Long Heeling Poems
Long Heeling Poems. Below are the most popular long Heeling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heeling poems by poem length and keyword.
"Rapido"
walks on water fast
salty trinity
soul heeling
a pearl reflects wisdom
on indigo see, the mirror mapped
dancing with diamonds
the light shows
characters
rippling mirages
compasses peppered
rapt in black
and blue velvet
soon arrives the Morning
like a twin, golden apple
rolling before us
Apollo
alighting upon a floating chariot
racing white horses
a storm
is approaching
harnessing the tornado
petulant Horseman
Apollyon, hit lists,
in raised fist
riding a magic carpet
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
heeling.
healing.
list (nautical).
list (enumerate).
Rapido 60.
Defrocked yachts on moorings in the bay
Pull at tethers like dogs yearning for a walk
The ruffled blue waters, rippling white glary glints
Sea of sparkles, gentle tiny flashing lights like town twinkling at night.
Listen closely as the bobbling yachts creak, groan, rock and lilt
Whispering and murmuring sea shanties to each other.
Hoist the main, unfurl the jib
Drop the mooring rope, unleash the boat to sail.
Horses loves to run, sailboats loves to sail
Straining, heeling over, yielding to wind
But contriving to trick the wind to grab its power
To drive the yacht forward through the sea.
The waves are sliced through, and surface waters parted
As the sailboat flings delightfully forward
Relishing the sail, frolicking with crew
Sailing free on true blue waters
With true and steady winds, that blew and blew on blue all day.
Maestro bows, a motion lulls thunder,
ovations a period of heeling, a clap
diverts a few, then attends silence.
A typical cough failed its challenge,
disturbed section promptly affects
a hall--indulges the jittery few. An
abrupt tapping expresses with
distinction and a Grandeur Hall
transcends towards the respective
measures that virtuous it's due.
His first appearance in the luxurious
auditorium, covetousness befell the
many, save one. Maestro entranced
a curve amidst a grand hall, fulfilling
hopes of men who are dropping jaws
and the prim-n-proper ever-widening
pupils for cosmetics lost effects.
As the thickness of the drape-enriched
velour, entrenched symphonic, designer
concertos, intricate waltzes, filament of
operettas--richly curtained memories
bliss.
Maestro's music world is the gist of his
being. To suggest other worlds, why
bother, it's just the world of music, and
that's the end of it. It's not a peculiarity
when one's grasp of the world is finite
and specific, that's what defines him.
I certainly don't want to be in a spot
when I'm in a surgical room, having my
heart worked on and standing there in
surgeon's clothes is the local dog catcher.
There are no hidden agendas. His life is
an open book. Life can be much simpler
if there were more people like Maestro
when he made up his mind it be so,
assuring his notoriety and, without a
doubt, a place for his name in the annals
of music history.
Movement Shod
Heeling halt
Abbreviated democracy
Flank in route
Gaurd maneuver out
Folded company
Beret for address
Redress complete
Back in Britain
Marina Ann Hantzis
Princess Matilda
Vulnerable Matilda Prodigy
Florence of the ash reddened twine Nightengale
Graphic design
I come from a brass adorned general
We don't resemble excess points
I am exit of branch in brass adjacent brad
Minute brigadier
Halt
Ag is creation
In duration of appointment
Grass is yawn
Foreign testimony
Irresolute burden
Friendly visions 1
The refusal of hindrance
Nulled void in presence of buddha
Blvd.
Bill of ardent
Assembly of literature budget
Education boundary activities
25th hour calls on sight
On the bay the wind is scurrying
along its flock of waves,
with white crests honey combed,
to flip over their edges,
on blue foreheads.
The bow of the yacht slices
through the waves driven by the wind
in the sails, rattling the rigging,
heeling the boat over,
relenting to force of wind,
tricking the wind to drive the yacht
forward wind into the wind.
On the bay the currents play with the tides.
The ferries ply their routes,
hurrying and streaming,
with passengers waving to passersby
for no good reason, for no one asks them why.
The ferries toot their horns to
sloops, ships, skiffs, tugs, tinnies, dinghies and row boats,
hoping they will get out of their way soon.
Dolphins, twist, glide and turn, riding the bow currents.
They pop up to say: "Gidday!", "How's it Going!"
Surfacing for a one-eyed glace up at
the bow-riders standing up front like a figurehead.
Gulls dip and squabble overhead, as terns dive for food,
Cormorants pop to the surface looking around,
before diving back down,
with syrupy smooth surge below.
Pelicans cruise by like flying boats, with folded bills.
For whatever we lose from ourselves on the land,
we'll find it again out there on the wide blue sea,
where life began, and it still sustains us.
For Planet Water is indeed our true home
where life began in water.
It's our matter and matrix,
mother and medium.
Truly our everlasting living sustainer.
"Heeling Mephistopheles"
murdering crows
flies in on the bow
of a Stradivarius
strange webs cleared
from the mind of
Machiavellian insolence
insisting life written
by dancing fingers
pressing monochrome
due diligence for justice
wrapped in blankets of
cloudy deliverance
tack a piercing
bittersweet
entendre
all the ebony wiles
imprinting jewels
for stringing
persuasive
shiny
stratagems
become ivory pearls
tingling vanilla dalliances
crisp and clean cut
new teeth
for gripping
dark contra
bones from corsets
broken and scattered
for ancient tomes
maestro buttons
for plucking
songs home
sharp pleats
skirting over
what’s buried beneath
floorboards
fathoms deep
waiting for its feed
words slip through
eye of needle, the threads
flowing cursives
through the cracks
osseous matter for a black dog
composed humming Bach
impromptu strokes
for hidden angles
offering tongue out
for words, to speak
angel notes
like legs running
across fresh sheets
bars raised ropes
concerto chords
like sails billowing
helm held hard
fast forward en route
encore
dark Mephistopheles
jibed
heeling
dark Mephistopheles
en route
encore
heeling
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
homonyms.
jibe
heeling
homophone.
bach
Mephistopheles.
Stradivarius.
Bach.
Machiavellian.
He put his tooth under the pillow along with a letter that he wrote
It was a request for a wish from the Tooth Fairy that he scribbled on his note
It read:
Plees insted of muny cud you grant me this 1 wish
Cud you go to the hospitle and giv mi Mom a heeling kiss
Cud you make her feel all beter, cud you make her feel all rite
Cud you as a anser to this leter bring mi Mommy hum tonite
He woke up anxious in the morning to read the Tooth Fairy’s reply
He took the letter to his father who read with tear drops in his eye
It read:
Thank you for your letter, that was a thoughtful wish
And your Mommy asked that I, please reply with her kiss
Your Mommy had to leave last night and join the Angels up above
Even though I couldn’t bring her home, I brought you all her love
He looked at me in wonder; sorrow etched upon his face
Where his front tooth was yesterday, there was only now a space
He said:
Daddy, maybe you should loose a tooth and write a letter too
So, the Tooth Fairy can also bring some of Mommy’s love to you
I told him, “Mommy’s love fills up this house and always will be here”
With tooth and letter in my pocket, I hugged and kissed our little dear
Guilt, remorse and sorrow
are the unrepressible emotions making me restless...
as they revoke their dreadful images,
leaving hot sweat on my wrinkled pillow,
and though I did hurt nobody but me:
it's a wound that will keep bleeding,
never finding that source of heeling;
and the longer I deny it, the more it haunts me!
God, give me Your revelation on how I should live,
to avoid the pitfalls that can make me stray;
God, I desire nothing more than mercy and joy!
I tread at the thought of the coldest grave;
locked in a coffin, buried underneath the heavy and damp soil...
with no air to breath, and no sun to feel and no love to give!
God, when my time draws near, all the bells will toil;
and will some of Your angels watch over my resting place?
If the main reason for being born is to build moral and character,
which deeds you demand of me that I perform in Your sight?
My ancestors sinned and I, too, must pay that price:
being imperfect and committing all kinds of vanities,
and still You consider me Your child and shine light on my path!
How ungrateful could I be with all the loving-kindness,
and undeserved generosity you shower me with...
when guilt, remorse and sorrow are all I have?
The older I get, the more frightened I am and all the foolishness,
which was evident in my erroneous lifestyle, loses its effect
and grip on me, revealing itself in that contagious and ugly aspect;
and who could return to the sinful ways and do more harm to himself?
I advice others to heed and redeem themselves before time prevails,
and offers no other chance at salvation! When I will be dead,
this voice will cease to speak...and I won't be found where the evil spirits loom;
and without guilt, remorse and sorrow I will be another corpse in that tenebrous tomb!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci