Long Handstand Poems
Long Handstand Poems. Below are the most popular long Handstand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Handstand poems by poem length and keyword.
Tall and handsome was super Armand
Younger days spent in a music boyband
Older he graduated to a heavy rock band
With the stage name of “Collapsin’ Grandstand”
Last summer Armand took a cruise trip to Greenland
Because that was his deep rooted fatherland
Then a hop a skip and a jump over to Iceland
Tagging on a visit to his sweet motherland
He thought this’d be much better than Disneyland
For here his music was in most popular demand
Confirmed in all papers at any newsstand
Heard it many a time and it was easy to understand
Fans cheered and danced at the band’s command
Everyone in attendance had a time that’s grand
Always had a bigger crowd than planned
All felt like they had reached the Holy Land
Never accused of being underhand or bland
Every night in the middle of Armand’s handstand
The crowd wildly cheered for “Collapsin’ Grandstand”
Too hilarious to see how would jump to attention every stagehand
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
I tasted summer…
It sure tasted good
I was dying for a sip
Of my iced coffee CHINO
Only in Cyprus…
My drug of choice
Crushed ice with sweetened coffee
OH....YES!
In the evenings
succulent watermelon treats
Eating it all with relish
Even the seeds
what greed!
I tasted summer…
In that first dive into the pool
How cool!
Immersed in liquid delight
Open eyes
I touched the bottom of the pool
Two dolphins painted there
Let me have my way...
I did a handstand
Legs pointed straight up into the air
The water running down my legs
Straight up....I held on
Weightless
Weightless
In my element
My hair flowing around me
As I did my strokes
Diving in and out of the water
A fish…
That's how I got described
by the one who watched,
"Your so agile"
Such exuberance
I thought…OH…this is better...
Better that a sensual high
There was I
Gliding in and out
Water above, below, all around
Carrying me
Splashing around me
loving me
Playing...playing with my hair
Saturating my soul
With giddiness
Muted sound
Below the surface
I swim underwater
The width of the pool
I thrust up for air
Water slides off my body
The sun kisses me
Applauding the feat
I taste summer
It sure tastes good
Salty scent in my hair
My body slathered in sunscreen
Sand clinging to me
The beach
My sensing feasting
On every single thing...
My eyes delighted
A small September crowd
Enjoys the breeze
that creates the waves
I wade into the water
Intake of breath
I squeal
It's refreshingly cold
The water laps at my legs
crawling further and further up
Making me gasp
Finally....
I submerge
I laugh
I dive into the waves
One by one
I play...
I push myself high
My face to the shore
They pound on my back
I take a deep breath and let them roll over me
Enjoying the roughness
That "out of control" feeling
This is greater than me
And then
I lie back
I float
Blue above
White puffs: baby angel breath clouds
I let the sun ravish
The water carries me
I forget everything
My mind blank like the blue sky
There is nothing but the NOW
NOW
And there am I
Tasting summer
Salty and sweet
September treat
And happy
Oh, so, happy, am, I!
Eileen Manassian
Buttered Fields
It is early when she is tickled awake
as light eases under the eaves
to trickle through a sigh of curtains,
to whisper across the bedroom floor,
to nudge and nestle beside her…..and beam!
Outside the sun has buttered the fields,
mellowing, yellowing the crisp, morning dew.
The girl awakes wearing playful eyes, a zestful imagination,
wishing for a form of storm that might offer up jinks and winks
but the morning is in the process of writing its own story.
Capital letters of trees stand tight and tall
beside commas of bushes, question marks of shrubbery,
sprinkled with colourful, exclamation marks of flowers
and, dotted here and there, insected full stops and apostrophes.
Yes, her day is already penned and punctuated.
Soon, she is washed, dressed and toothpasted
and, with a hip and a hop, she springs outside her house.
All around the morning sings, “All things bright and beautiful!”
while Mother Nature has her skipping rope out
and is creating mischievous merrymaking.
The wind begins huffing and puffing all before it
and after juggling a few dustbins it decides to show off,
performing three cartwheels and a backward double-flip
into a one-handed handstand, finishing with a vault without fault
to win the gold medal in the morning’s gymnastics competition.
The girl now watches, waits and wonders what is what?
So with trees staggering and the wind waggling
the morning now dancing merrily in front of her,
and with a giggle of sunlight, an extra wiggle of wind,
she curtsies, partnering the morning in its frolicsome entertainment.
Suddenly and sharply the sun, like stage lighting,
flares through the clouds looking for something lost,
while the road’s yellow lines appear to hold hands
as they stroll side by side into the distance;
the girl follows, excitement shivering her sleeve.
Here’s the man in the marching band
Fiddlin with sticks on his petty hands
Marching, marching round the street
In the middle of the glazing blazing heat.
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man. He’s in command
With a little syncopation & intonation
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man when he’s on demand
Walking in the steps of a child’s handstand
Dancing to the beat of a broken watchband
Sticks and stones might break his drums
No beat, no soul, no rhythm, no goal
Maybe one day, he’ll break his bum
Thanks to countless talented taps he stole
Here’s the man in the Marching Band
Confidence looking so high and grand
Here’s the man in the marching band
Next time he plays, the drums will be canned!
I had not been on another poetry site even a week
And l had already crossed paths with a bully
A self appointed “Professor of Poetry” it seems
Who spewed out rude comments regularly
Now, I don’t know your name
So I will call you Richard
(DICK for short!)
Insulting and belittling
Others poems and effort
Is not called advice or support!
Now DICK, some of us just like to write poems
Simple though that may be
Not for judgement or accolades
Just for the joy of poetry
Being hurtful , rude and insensitive
Arrogant, intimidating and just unkind
Does not make you knowledgeable or gifted
Or a poet of any kind
DICK ….your words have no impact on me
I am strong and your words meaningless and weak
My concern is for the young or vulnerable
Who may be affected or scarred by this garbage you speak
DICK ….. I suspect you think you are superior
Intelligent and of a better class
But DICK I think you are doing a handstand
And talking out your ar*e
Who gave you the right to be so judgemental
To think it’s ok to humiliate and be cruel
DICK you just make yourself look like
An absolute DICK fool …..
He sat on the pathway edge,
crossed legged at the feet.
Donned in green moleskin trousers and yellow oilskin, felt pork pie hat and tilting back from the band a pheasant feather,
multicoloured,
catching the sporadic sunlight.
Thin lipped and with a smile that exposed teeth so uniform that if he had done a handstand you would swear the mouth had not moved.
I imagined the canines and molars worn to evenness by the gnawing of rope and net whilst Captaining trawlers that endured weeks at sea, but more likely a University lecturer, Geography teacher.
Like Shearer at the Gallowgate end I held my arm aloft exposing the too tightly pulled wristband allowing entry to the festivities.
Heartily and simultaneously with him “Morning” and his smile extended further.
Drinks were ordered and it was several minutes before I became aware of my inappropriate footwear as wood chippings bit my toes.
Forgetfulness was becoming an ever increasing trait.
Oofos flip flops were not going to cut it.
A Met Office amber warning, dancing and the threat of a drifting mosh pit required a sturdier approach and a journey back out.
“So soon?” he asked ruefully.
I pointed to the uncovered feet, his brow concertinaed, he stood, smaller than expected, deceived by his outstretched legs.
Arms raised, fully extended, he planted his hands upon my shoulders and with quiet authority
“When your Father told you that things would get easier, that you hadn’t to worry, that you will get wiser. You didn’t listen did you?”
He bellowed and I joined him.
He sent me away.
Uplifted.
When I returned he had been replaced, voluntary shift complete. Sat in his place a young man, a boy barely eighteen I guessed.
I left my arm by its side and tugged at the sleeve, we nodded.
Later that day I spied the man, sat on a tree trunk bench.
Pork pie hat with pheasant feather, crossed legged at the feet but held to his thin lips, a dark beer, a mild, a stout or a porter.
Undoubtedly a Geography teacher.
A RED HORSE
Marc and Bella
beg for blessings
the portrait of a marriage
candlelight and the crimson cover
rides overhead
like a holy arch
a handstand,
like the artist’s euphoria,
balances on the back
of the red horse
dark days of Russia
play in the fields below
a suspended violin
wisps of forlorn clouds
blue with happiness
Marc embraces his bride
Bella holds her fan on earth
but a songsheet in heaven’s clouds
one bare foot upon
the backside of the reddened horse
her lips round with soothing sound
Marc’s protection above her
playing their wedding song
fantasy over rooftop
an arching crescent moon
“head over heels” in love
8/16/2017
I feel the water
above me
below me
all around me
intimate
caressing
accepting
loving me
I go further down
to touch the bottom of the pool
and there
on the two painted dolphins
I push my hands down
and my feet break free from the water
shooting up into the air
my handstand
For a moment
I revel the erectness of my form
My legs above the water
the water trickling down them
slowly
I bring them back down
and burst out of the water
head and chest pushing out
Hair...laden with water
swung back
spraying a trajectory of liquid crystals behind me
I take in the air
I smile
I live
I breath
my arms move back and forth
I dip in again
then swim to the far side of the pool
I hold on to the metal hand guards
Put my legs out on the side of the pool
Knees bent
I push myself below the surface
looking around...
my playground
the water, my home
I'm in my element
I'm free
weightless and happy
the muffled sounds
and dancing lights on the surface
flirt with me
I stay for as long as I can
then I break the surface
Floating on my back
I look at the sky
I feel sublime
chest and tummy tasting the air
I'm there
There
where in my mind
I'm beautiful and divine
sultry mistress of the water
he's touching every part of me
I'm free
I'm free
Jade
I am never as happy as when I'm swimming....the pool lets me be more creative, but I also enjoy swimming in the Mediterranean sea. I've been called a dolphin.... I'm more like another aquatic mammal at present, but even those creatures are graceful and beautiful in the water. Summer is coming....
My grandma was a steeple jack,
Of heights she had no fear.
The crowds would gather round to watch.
They came from far and near,
To see her swing and pirouette,
Doff her hat and wave.
And gasped and cheered each time she feigned
A slip and then a save.
Roof-toppers winced and bit their lips,
Tight rope walkers screamed.
Treetop loggers looked away
At the daring they were seeing.
Women gasped and children shrieked,
Fearful she would fall,
But at full ascent a massive roar
As she stood upon the ball!
She blew a kiss to the those below
As she turned around with ease,
Then there atop removed her scarf
And cast it to the breeze
But the crowd went wild as before their eyes
They viewed her final feat…
Into a handstand Grandma rose,
Then she waved and kicked her feet!
Whether flag pole, steeple, TV tower…
My grandma climbed them all.
For the freedom felt there in the clouds,
She was at their beck and call.
That grand old gal inspired me
Her legacy I've retraced.
Now I too dance upon a pole
At a club called Mary’s Place.
I was awakened in the middle of the night
by a noise coming from inside the house;
Carefully, I slipped out of bed
so as not to wake my spouse.
I quietly snuck down the stairs
to see just what it might be
and was surprised to come face to face
with another one of me!
“Excuse me … who are you?
And just what are you doing here?”
“I knew it!”, the other me shouted,
“I knew in real life I could appear.”
“I am the you in your dreams;
the one you see when you’re asleep.
I figured out how to reverse the process
and through real life’s portal I did creep.”
“Here I can prove it, I’ll show you”
the dream me excitedly said,
“I can do all the neat things that you do
when dreaming inside your head.”
He then floated about the room;
did handstand push-ups with relative ease;
moved objects with his mind;
and, pulled money from his sleeves.
Well, I had to admit that it was true;
I had dreamt all of those things;
I must be dreaming right now, I thought,
this can’t really be happening!
“And I brought someone with me,
the composite perfect girl from your dreams.
Would you like to have sex with her now?”
“No, I can’t – I am married!”, I had to scream.
“You need to go back into my dreams;
You can’t stay here in real life;
And take that Barbie doll with you
Before she is seen by my real wife!”
“No can do”, the dream me said,
And he flew with a jet pack out of the house;
Followed by the oversexed super model
with the very see through blouse.
I don’t know where he could be,
or what he is pretending to have me do,
but if you see me doing really absurd things
try to find a dream portal to push me through.