Long Gulley Poems
Long Gulley Poems. Below are the most popular long Gulley by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gulley poems by poem length and keyword.
The rain came down suddenly like madman beating on the roof, knocking on doors and spilling its vengeance on the floor.
I couldn’t stand to see the water digging out the wounds in the tree running in the valley with a message for thee. The gulley filled up in a jiffy and tins bottles and all forms of garbage came up instantly .The rain came on time to justify what is mine.
The valley is deep and you have to meet me on the street, the Hedgehog with its stiff spines lurks in the bushes with its nocturnal eyes anointing the animals as they come by. Its movement is sharp, its body is dark and it never misses a prey so stay out of its way.
Water is gushing from the stream interrupting my dreams soaking up the thirsty land and depositing a pile of sand on the road. You can see the mountain crashing down throwing rocks and mud all over the Town.
The streets are flooded and the cars are floating on their backs .The house has washed away too and the old village ends up on the rock with all the old garbage scattered on the house top. The bath tub is stucked on the narrow path and blocks the flow sending the tree trunks on the go.
Everything came to a standstill and the only movement was a little dove floating on a tree limb and a pot of daffodil stuck in between. It must have come from someone’s garden and washed downstream .
As I was about to reach for it a body of water parachuting from the ground spraying mud and dirt all over the earth. The water is receding.
Penguin the pilchard leapt onto the ice
He flipped and he flopped and arrived in a trice
He took a deep breath and he held it and then
He bellowed with all of his might… “MEN!”
Pilchard the penguin said, “Where have you been?”
And then asked his friend, “What on Earth have you seen?”
Penguin the pilchard said, “I’m telling you,
A big boat has come with a whole TV crew.”
With all of the penguins now gathered around
Pilchard’s mum, Herring, prepared Pilchard’s ground,
“Remember the plan, we’ve done it before
For when men with cameras visit our shore.”
Pilchard the penguin said, “When they arrive,
We show them the struggle we have to survive.
Let’s huddle together then we can deliver
The image they want so let’s practice our shiver.”
A rumble, some heaving and ice cracks appeared
And up popped an orca… who nobody feared
“Okay,” he said, “so who do I chase,
and who is the stand in, you know… just in case?”
Pilchard the penguin said, “No ‘just in case’,
Nobody’s getting consumed in this place
It will be I that you shall assail
And I won’t be eaten by no killer whale.”
Seagull, the polar bear, said, “Holy cow…
Does this mean I can let my wind go now?’
Pilchard the penguin said, “Don’t let it go,
Until you’ve scraped ice up to make flakes of snow.”
The film crew arrived and they took up positions
They struggled to film the Antarctic conditions
It came as a shock that the blizzards that blew
Came with a stench that was rather like poo…
The penguins all shivered while stood in one place
While foul smelling snow pelted everyone’s face
The crew filmed the penguin as orca gave chase
And shed tears of joy when the whale lost the race
Penguin the pilchard said, “Give them some smiles,
And leap from the sea like Polaris missiles.
And then do that thing that all humans find sweet
Where young penguins stand on their mum’s and dad’s feet.”
Pilchard the penguin said, “It’s for the tele,
Won’t it look good if we slide on our belly.
You see that ice gulley, why don’t we slide through it?”
And Penguin the pilchard said, “That ought to do it.”
The crew packed their gear and they made for the shore
Where they boarded their boat and weren’t seen anymore
While back with the penguins where men were now gone
Pilchard the penguin said, “Get the fire on.”
I hear a soft voice amidst
deafening din of daily grind:
Where's the forest dark and dense;
the mountain high as heavens--
its shadow, a looming doom?
Where's the valley that dews
dawn to dusk, too deep to fill?
Or the gulley wide and yawning?
Or the sea fathomless, bottomless,
a home for leviathans, a womb
for tsunamis; frothing and foaming,
howling, humping to the shore
where a tiny grain wiggles,
scoffing the scorching glare.
The grain jiggles on the beach
sparkling in the sun. His voice rings
a deafening roar: I'm F-A-I-T-H.
I'm higher than heavens, wider
than earth; deeper than the deeps...
Creation stills, cowering at his voice.
Trees wither; rocks shear off in splinters,
tumbling down in clouds of dust, spraying
shrapnel on persons away from the voice.
Out of my spell, I crawl to the beach.
© 2018 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Passion ignited on a strike
She lights the dark night sky
trailing a glowing inferno
scattering embers near and low, soo far and ever so high,
crawling across the hills ever searching
for a manner to quench her thirst
her sweltering footprints
branding her way
her unplanned escape a devastating curse
flaring vivid hues of freedom
she crowns trees and takes flight
her hot breath all consuming
only ashy detritus blankets this land, struck by this blight
courageous knights rush in on motorized wings
bravely jump from great heights
to scorched earth below
lionhearted warriors joust on ground
metal horses rally above
still she glides ever faster
down treacherous slopes
gusting wind at her back
eyes on what gives her hope
a ravine down below in the heart of the valley
so narrow its girth
that its depths are unknown
it calls her nearer
whispered promises
quenching her sitient soul
a whisper of freedom from ensuing foes
an end to all her troubles and woes
she dives down the cracked mouth of the abyss
and drinks her fill of its watery deaths kiss
smoky sunrise lights vistas inky colour of mourning
small embers of freedom hissing at droplets of rain
all that’s left of her drowned in the deep water gulley
and her feathers of freedom, now ashy snow
All seems dark, land lost to her terrible plight
return a while later and see what has birthed
shoots sprouting green through blackened charred earth
through culling wings of fire the red angel of death
set off to be free
now in her wake grows new life starting to thrive
if not for her affrighted quest for freedom
would this flourishing life even have survived
06.09.2021 - 08.03.2022
Serge Lyrewing 417
Sharon K Gulley 174
Shihabudheen Kumbidi 424
Shiraz Iqbal 88
Shirley Ann Hawkins 123, 190
Shirley R Rebstock 102, 181
Simon Laurie king 312, 314, 393
Simon Rogerson 287
Sneha RV 146
Sophia William 464
Sophie Georgia Pilkington 123
Stephanie Falotico 97
Stephen Mayne 386
Stephen Michael Tefft 318
Stephen Watson 402
Subash Khanal 434
Subimal Sinha-Roy 14
Subrahmanyan Radhakrishna 192
Supraja Kannan 279
Susan M. Ashley 25, 42, 56
Suzanne Delaney 112, 132, 172
Suzanne Jones 443, 445
Swagata Lakshmi Das 365
T. Wignesan 413
Tania Kitchin 126, 59, 78
Terence O'Leary 101, 18, 72
Teresa Lindsay 414
Thomas Cunningham 72
~Many thanks to you selected poets; Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it; Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it; Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers~
Write On!
P S its POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 17
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Nights of flying dream world,
who might chase a raucous laugh,
or seek indeed mirthful excitement,
the sort that has embroidered twists,
as is generally perceived by intention,
but epic hurdles formed in still frame,
city snores past midnight bell clang,
dare one ever risk a robust venture,
should I have said pursuit instead,
sleep is diversion in that steel crib,
that modern crib pillow we fostered,
an idiom that has it’s silken source,
on foot of rainbow studded home run,
as denizens of driven blissful sprint,
with that palette city life concocts,
waiting to arise from brainwave surge,
but toilers so content at last wonder,
can still find that extra zestful yen,
nocturnal misnamed down tool free time,
energizing hour filler may arouse,
around the ink drape walkways,
quite surrogate and surreptitious,
character one may mold from time,
spent as a regal rhombic chaser,
boundary scuppered plot by strolling fleet,
as creatively imagining might edge,
vast supply has penchant without dent,
zeitgeist flower of a fluorescent flag,
warning mask so deft but visible,
canopy laid beauteous black fringe,
alliance in shade infused etch front,
squeaky noising trickle eardrum muffin,
hear full dose of ripple muttering,
clued on obscurantist thin,
taut code evasive decipher ask,
float of urban mirror pool by pattern,
reflection, mirage, cocoon,
after midnight curtain draws,
to protracted claps evinced from,
squinting imp coterie on foot,
ricochet off Moroccan spice tint,
outside vivid haunt so frequented,
perchance, perforce, pertaining patois,
little seen scatter mice squeak,
analogy horizontal spurt funk,
if only these dart and dash clan,
midgets metaphorical so jubilant,
in sonic meddle near edge encounter,
it would be strictly beyond a dazzling cast,
from other daylight theater staunch queue,
when aiming for parallel experience,
performance nocturne wise deep art,
even rich fantasy has upper boundaries,
some grating gulley flake debris awash
Are you more than just my imagination?
Is your call only my inner, silent plea to
be released from this lonely desperation,
this hollow, unfulfilling need?
I see you walking in the fields at night
and I feel you touch me in dawn's early light.
I smell your English lavender the same as
when you were here. Is it you, really my
Dear?
Is it you who ripples the water when I am
at our favorite creek and is it you that kisses
the tears from my cheek? It can't be just my
imagination for I feel you are here, who else
would have followed me throughout all these years.
Is it you my Love or just my Imagination?
Sharon Gulley
05/17/2014
My head hit the pillow and I was asleep,
I fell into a dream that was so deep,
standing on the deck of a fighting ship,
the vessel did rise, then into gulley did tip.
The waves so cruel did rise and fall,
and all did work for the good of all,
the Dramallach Raven was sailing through,
a storm of darkness, the ship held true.
Deep in the darkness, the waters did crash,
against the ships fore they did mighty smash,
yet this mighty vessel was sailing true,
it would reach its destination, all the crew knew.
Where was this ship bound on this stormy night?
The moon shining down, its beacon light,
the Dramallach Raven on its way to Hell,
I knew this ship and my legs fell.
I knelt and I looked to the wheel,
my horror I could not conceal,
the skeletal captain did doff his hat,
let me wake and that be that.
You Touched Me ( Sharon's Acrostic)
Time, at some point, will be no more; and thus unable to heal all my wounds.
Out of my afflictions and pain, when time has demised, I shall still sing and arise.
Up from the caves and pits of a bewildered life, I shall never again be afraid.
Caught before I fell; caressed when I called; shielded behind your strong walls.
Happy and free am I, and touched by an angel; you carried me along on your wings of love.
06302017PSContest, Touch Me With Words, Sharon Gulley. 5P
Acrostic from the word "Touch"