Long Gymnastic Poems
Long Gymnastic Poems. Below are the most popular long Gymnastic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gymnastic poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel a sudden stiffness in my chest, I have not been running but I am almost out of breath, I stood for seventeen hours in the corner trying to put things in order but the drill across the street keep disrupting my heart beat and the humming bird around the corner keeps scattering the garbage in the street and singing to a musical irony.
I am not used to doing formal exercise but sometimes I go all the way through the painful sacrifice, with my hands on my hip and my foot on the bar, I do exercise that makes me feel tall.
The mornings are grey when my heart is leaning the other way, I wish I had company to exchange a word or two, when I do the pushups , weight lifting and a couple miles on the treadmill.
I love doing aerobic exercise, instead of taking diet pills and drinking green juice, I just love to burn the sweat and stretch and fill my lungs with fresh hear.
See them laying on the floor over there, everyone in their own space, they are rolling from left to right and the body is putting up a terrible fight.
“You have got to shed five pounds”, he said, or I will roll you out of my bed, I will be the director and I want you all to do some frantic move, by the end of the week you will jumping on your feet.
You will wear bikini on the beach and you will ride bicycle through the street and tell the people that you have lost five pounds. You will give them a flyer to join the class and you will start your own business at last.
I cannot feel the stiffness anymore; it has disappeared on the dance floor; I work out mornings and evening and at nights I usually take a swim.
My gym is in my basement and I have emptied the diet pill in the toilet, I feel much happier when I sing, I lose more weight when I stand up straight.
I have to get my mind and body in harmony and my spirit to balance it.
I love working out on the gymnastic bar with that graceful poise and when the instructor comes along, she plays the music of the wild swan.
The stiffness is gone and I feel comfortable in my body.
language can be comprehended when u hear it
Words of the consciousness a flash of the human spirit
Visions in the mind that can be caught
A water shed manajerie of thought
Language is the eco system of spiritual possibilities
An epox of gymnastic mental abilities
An old growth forest of the mind
An undergrowth hidden by the canopy of time
The belief is rooted in our own precision
when language is spoken it makes an incision
Some languages can be seen or spoken
Some languages are hidden from the open
Like the language of the spirit hidden beneath the flesh
Tangled thoughts and memories caught in a wired mesh
Language is energy condensed to a slow vibration
It evades comprehension in todays generations
If language is the product of physical action potentials ocurring in the brain
The surely language is essential for putting thoughts in a frame
When the world seems out of pocket and complicated to understand
It is language that seems to stop it and lend a helping hand
Language can soothe the soul and calm the savage beast
It can also be used to control to say the very least
Language is the bridge that connects mind to reality
Language expresses visions that helps to set us free
Without language thoughts are nothing more than a continous wheel of thread
Without expressing languag we might as well be dead
Base Ball
Give me basically any ball and I love it
Hate to say it is Rugby this side of the
Ocean that divides but we are joined by
the language though we call it ‘Rounders’
Round ball and here it is the oval crick and crack where
talent meets and bats propel with sonar
speed and sweet delight when cheering leaders
sport their curves and acrobatic tantra
For uninitiated and confused spectators
a leather bullet approaches with all its might
some poor guy or gal not allowed to duck
or dive but brace it with just a wooden stick
Projectile forces redirected emphasize the
need to run around in squares of enchantment
with crowds jumping up and down hand to
heart in orchestrated anthems of support
When all the running hitting throwing stops
and all the adverts are digested the better
side has won but everyone should receive
a shiny medal for taking part in unison
Innings and outings have a greater meaning
though once philistines have counted all
their blessings and aggression has abated
it’s just a game and warfare was transcribed
When followers of baseball passion leave the
stadium and paraphernalia crown the streets
good shots and hitmen women of gymnastic pride
agree that ball and basic instincts kept the Peace
Embedded in national culture heritage and thrill
the soft sporty cushion of engagement bereft of
disproportional lateral harm and collateral damage
has shown the world for once a peaceful resolution
11th February 2017
I see that I've detected
some words that were neglected
By noted “lexicologist” to Suess
I'm sure some how in time
they'll create more words that rhyme
But for now, I'll put the ones, I found to use
For example, there's "Galactic"
and I hate to sound "Didactic"
But, have YOU tried to rhyme this word before ?
So, l'll find a different Tactic
less ridged more Elastic
That I'm sure everyone, will just adore
I've been writing till I'm Spastic
like a nervous Geriatric
But there's only two words, that will do
I'll seek some Chiropractic
And work on my Gymnastic
In time I'm sure I'll feel as good as new
I don't mean to sound Sarcastic
But what kind of word's Bombastic
It's the craziest word I ever heard
Who made up Pleonastic
And thought himself Scholastic
I'm sure he must of been some loony bird
How can I write with Lactic ?
Or practic, prophylactic
To make a poem filled with poise and grace
If IT'S to be climatic and regarded as fantastic
I've got to do what's Drastic,
I rest my case
We have crossed over the bridge, looking back from where we begin; we have crossed over the bridge and have paid dearly for our sins. The sins of lust burn with shame as we try to wrap up this promiscuous game; the days get longer, the night gets shorter and another month jumps onto the fleet.
The devil is strumming his guitar in the back while the ancient alter is spewing out poisonous gas. The scene looks magnificent from afar but danger is looming in the sky waiting for the clouds to roll by. We have been there for a long time, counting down the days when the wind would blow in our way.
The streets are littered with matter and the crows are hanging over the gutter, the grasshopper is jumping about in the bed and volcano erupts exposing the dead.
Thousands of them lined up in the streets, with long guns stretched across their back marching together in a unified manner while the general refused to give up power.
Several ultimatums were given to him but his eyes did not blink and so he held his grounds on a burning throne. The heat was so hot; he had to exchange his military clothes for a silk gown and a gymnastic pose.
We continued our journey across the bridge with a flip-flop on our feet and tee-shirt and jeans to cover our body that were exposed to the burning heat.
Down in the village it was overcast but we continue to press before it gets dark, we had no money or food to eat, we had to beg as we progressed along the street; some people had compassion on us but most of the time we ran out of luck. As the night bears down on us, we found someone that we could trust. She opened her hearts and took us in and gave us a nice shower, a healthy dinner and sends us on our way the next day.
We got some change to ride the bus and we got to our destination without a fuss and so we had to part ways when we reached the city center. I walked through the gate and for the first time I felt detached from someone that was holding on to my frock and bad mouthing me behind my back.
Now I have the space to breathe fresh air and connect to my heart that is so dear; I can still hear your voice mumbling on the air and I want to listen to what you have to share. I can feel your presence far and near. This was a narrow escape.
Before the primate known as “man” became loquacious,
With all his fishnet shenanigans, skylarking monkey shines,
And thermo-nuclear weapons,
There was a time when words among men
Had not yet become discrete utterances
Encoded with agreed upon meanings.
It was a time when disputes were rarely settled
Through diplomatic concordance.
During that long stretch of pre-history,
Our ancestors’ best efforts at verbal communication
Consisted of assorted grunts, howls, squeals, screams, cries,
And presumably laughter.
Conflict negotiation in Paleolithic times
Might have involved all these primitive sound bites,
But would most likely conclude with blood being spilled.
The development of verbal language among humans
Would require the evolution, over many generations,
of various specific anatomical adaptations.
The mechanisms that enable us to fill our lungs with air
And expel it in a gymnastic manner up our throats,
Around our tongues, through our teeth, and past our lips,
Allow us to produce all the recognizable vocalizations
That comprise all the languages of the world
With all their vocabularies and grammars.
For most of pre-history the genus Homo
Merely grunted, howled, squealed, screamed, cried,
And occasionally, it might be hoped, laughed.
The development of verbal language among humans
Would lead to the invention of promises, oaths, and vows,
But also lies, deception, and inhuman oppression.
In the end, we are all just talking monkeys.
Talking monkeys that still grunt, howl, squeal, scream, cry,
And sometimes laugh, whether it’s appropriate or not.
Talking monkeys armed with thermo nuclear weapons.
Human history may be heading to an inevitable conclusion;
Talking monkeys will never be anything other than talking monkeys.
At the mountain's peak, where the sky touches the earth,
Stands the graceful woman, determined in every moment, for every soul,
She trembles slightly, like a bird waiting, gentle in her love,
Her story unfolds in blue echoes, under the gaze of the stars.
In the pale moonlight, she speaks of the cold that froze the homes,
She asks with longing and pity, "Why do the little hands tremble, mother, and why does the earth cry?
You, boy, have the dagger that can wound, that can crush,
Do you still have anything gentle in you, or have we become strangers to each other?"
"I feel myself shrinking," sighs the watchful woman,
"People pass by on the streets, they look at us, count their years and traces,
I would like to kiss the fence between us, in a dance of love full of magic,
But this gesture remains in a dream, a prisoner at noon, in a world that cannot touch it."
In the silence of the night, I hear how the stone cries, in its centuries-old sorrow,
Bitten by the shadows of the dead, it has frozen in pain and sadness,
Well, I, the human, have also felt the bite of those times,
I flinched, I trembled, I faced the helplessness of my world.
I beat the guards with my unseen hands, with my sharp ears,
In the pause between words, the sounds of my inner greatness burst forth,
But my soul traveled through unseen worlds, seeking salvation,
I fell into a sea of thoughts, of dreams, I fell into myself, into an endless world.
In the midst of the unripe hemp field, I lie down and feel my longing,
Love grows in me like a heap of damp and fragrant hemp,
I feel the flame of passion igniting in me, of unrestrained desire,
I lose myself in a gymnastic love, in a dance shrouded in mystery.
In this dream world, I say, "Alas, woe is me,
I have thrown my glasses into the river of time and now I cannot see,
You, like a shining star, are in front of me, but the water separates us,
And yet, we are in the same boat of destiny, floating together."
We, two wanderers, in the middle of the night, cling to hope,
Traveling through hidden worlds, through deep and dark feelings,
In this melody of our hearts, we are a chorus of love,
And in the dead of night, under the star-filled sky, we find each other, we love, we embrace.
A small boy is playing baseball in a Summer afternoon.
Imaging that some day would be a famous baseball player.
The group of girls are training to compete someday in an
Olympiad.
They played sports for hours to achieve their most desired dream.
Tim hits a home run for first time in his short time of being playing
Baseball.
He runs the nine innings to assure success in his sports life.
Determination is one of the most valuable traits of Tim.
A star is shining, promising to be an unforgettable Baseball player
to the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Christie and Marien dream to be famous gymnasts in a far future.
They go to the park every day with Tim to let free their imagination.
Perseverance and discipline will be the factors to fulfill the children dreams.
Time will tell if our protagonists reach their goals in life.
Twenty years has passed in Tim, Christie and Marien lives. They are grown up.
Tim is a famous Baseball player known worldwide. His name appears in the
Baseball Hall of Fame.
Christie and Marien compete in an Olympiad. Won gold medal in a gymnastic competition.
Reach for the stars. Every worth while deserves to be tried at least once.
For Oil Paintings 4 & 5
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Third Place
Nayda Ivette
11-19-2015
That child is like a washing machine
when tucked within her bed,
Arms and legs flail everywhere
No chance you’ll find a head.
I expect that's hiding somewhere down
where you’d expect to find the toes
Where a noggin normally rests
Well! No one really knows.
You lay her down to go to sleep
The first move is the “wash”
Linen, gets all pushed around
erratically till its squashed.
Here’s the move I call the rinse
This one’s rather tame.
Motion, and then rotations start
But not quite yet insane.
Ye Gods!!
Here’s the start of the spin cycle.
As bed begins to rumble
Thrashes mirrored by crashes
Artistic gymnastic tumbles.
Blankets, pillows, clothes
All flying through the air
One stuffed toy arcs past the light
Whoa!
Had to duck a teddy bear!
Of course she always sleeps
Through all this absurdity
Each morning I lament the fact
that she was tucked in carelessly.
The simplification of a traffic jam
In an office
Finish print job
And release document to document owner
Mail fraud in possession of access
Whom accessed file of document owner wrong
Is in hearing
No hearing of printer job
No crime in owning document
Homekey fraud
Interpreted in California as economy
Unemployed printers?
City does and does not operate hotels
Business transacts in appropriation of funds
and ink press powers
In time observation
Of collection is willing
Thank you again for sharing your feedback and helping us shape California's future.
Sincerely,
Governor Gavin Newsom
Obstructing journalism
Very literal
The homeless point at and time move
Down generation gymnastic snatch skills
Front lines of tinder relocate shift reward visuals
Out the house dodge
Grades good bye byes