Long Honks Poems
Long Honks Poems. Below are the most popular long Honks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honks poems by poem length and keyword.
JUXTAPOSED AWARENESS
On and within the fullness
of this beautiful sunshine day,
I peacefully sit here pondering
the present chaos of the world.
How awe confusing…it all is–
outside, flowers are blooming,
birds and butterflies are soaring,
and the quiet wind peacefully blows.
.
But within the physical and spiritual me,
there seems to be a battle for power control
over which system is the most in control when
it comes to sustaining me physically and spiritually.
Indeed–within–the heart seems to challenge
the brain, while expansion and restraint tease
the soul and spirit with respect to focus and divine
wisdom and guidance in oneness of mission purpose.
Here at home and around the rest of the world, atrocities
continue within its circumference: supporting inequality,
denying climatic change, ignoring human disasters,
and pimping war; all deemed…apt power aides.
Indeed, as I sit here looking out into the Godly beauty
of nature’s canvassing in the springtime, all is painfully
sighted and sourly tasted by the awareness of the chilling
wind of change murderous war is bleeding onto peaceful life.
Once more and again–we hued–wherever we may be
in our sojourn, are caused to detour round-about-focus of
empathy to drop off aspiration, inspirations, hope, faith, and
collective actions, to physically and spiritually aid victims of war-
mongering power-viral infected oppressors we all battle in common.
As I sit here gazing out/into this beautiful canvassing of nature,
hell flaming fires are wreaking devilish havoc not too far away and
at the same time, bombs shred life and spread their collateral pains;
all leaving peace to be realized in the spirituality of the actions of love.
As the “round-about of nature leads us back to the sojourn pathway
our ancestors left and foot-printed for us, let’s move on past syndrome
roadblocks and continue to cover miles of awareness–honking honks–echoing
to all the world that “...our equanimity too, is essential to world harmony.”
I can’t bear that rock in my shoe,
As I sit, I glance up mesmerized by the sunset’s view.
Seven deep in a grocery line,
The wonderful innocent stare of a baby and mine align.
Two minutes ‘til the microwave dings.
I’m lifted on wings while the voice above nostalgically sings.
Dropping my change all over the ground,
It’s a wonder these tiny ants can amass such a mound.
Traffic slowed to a halted gridlock,
Listen to the honks leading that swaying vee of a flock.
Keys locked inside my car,
The horizon is so clear today, I can see so far.
Coffee dripped upon my shirt,
I’ll go in and change giving my darling a romantic flirt.
My dog drops a load on their lawn,
To their magnificent flower garden my eyes are drawn,
Drive thru with limited crew,
I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular sunrise hue.
If only I could stop on my own accord,
I would readily see creation’s beauty gifted from my Lord.
Breaking the silence at Summer's end,
the crackling crunch of leaves can be heard.
And the wind wails at trees that won't bend,
proclaiming such resistance absurd.
Songbird chicks have fledged and spread their wings,
while their songs have all but petered out.
For no longer bound, time cut their strings,
and gave them feathers to fly about.
The honking calls of migrating geese,
resonate as they fly south in flocks.
And late in the Fall, their honks increase,
in response to calendars and clocks.
Winter approaches as a light snow
falls to gently cover Autumn's dead.
But soon, flurries aggressively blow,
burying everything that hasn't fled.
Pa Honks the Horn With a Tree for Christmas Morn
~*~ ~*~
_______________ ~ * * .* `* ‘ * ‘`’`’`
(1940s green pick up) *’ *` *’ - * ~ - `*~ ` * - *
/1l l11l l1\ ~ `’`’ * ~ * * * * * * * `’`’`’
/1l l11l_______l1\ * =*= * = * = * *= *= *-- *--
(Pa honks l @l the horn l@\________________________________`’`’`’
{when he drives up the drive with a noble fir for Christmas morn. ]
( Dressed warm all seven of us run outside as crystalline [ snow falls ]
( from heaven. Excited with anticipation to help pa bring in the [ tree indoors]
( The flavor piney scent of the tree lingers throughout the old farmhouse ====]
Decorating the tree with string popcorn garland,
dried fruit, and homemade lace
ornaments we adore
12/2/2016
That pretty girl in the sports car,
Could she be a movie star?
She drives past, throws a smile at me,
Could she be attracted to me?
The cool wind blows her hair loose,
In her red open top Porsche,
Pink lipstick? never seen before!
Makes my heart race even more!
At traffic light we come to stop,
Is she going out to shop?
She looks at me, throws another smile,
Let lights be red for a while!
Green lights and we both race ahead,
Staying close and head to head,
Wondering when our paths might part!
moment that will break my heart!
She signals left and honks the horn,
dreaded moment has come on,
She pouts her lips to sign a kiss,
Should our romance end like this?
Steam was rising high in my heart,
Can’t let roads tear us apart,
I signalled left and honked my horn,
Blew a kiss and followed her on!
Snowdrops tend to sprout early in the Spring,
while daffodils bloom later in the Spring.
And deciduous trees wear beards of green,
as trillions of buds unfurl in the Spring.
Sweet sap starts rising in sugar maples,
and flows from taps, drip by drip, in the Spring.
Migrating geese announce their homecoming,
with honks blaring from the skies, in the Spring.
And as songbirds begin to fly back north,
dandelions pave their route in the Spring.
And Japanese cherry blossoms bloom pink,
as creeks fill with spawning smelts in the Spring.
While Robin Redbreasts start building mud nests;
bears emerge, looking less stout in the Spring.
Butterflies and birds beautify the scene;
as the children laugh and shout in the Spring.
Metallic city howls like a wounded animal
scraped by nocturnal vigils
of grandchildren and elders
emaciated like tuberculosis lungs
gasping from chug-chugs of tobacco soot...
and the face of a night is hammered by
ripped moans like plucked strings in motel rooms;
pagan women opening limbs for a meal in silent fury.
This is the other side of town, so real...
beggars peddling hope; factory shoulders
ranting over shuffled cards and fired gin
as wives’ blistered fingers
clean rented pots, gibbering same monotone of hymn,
“give us daily bread, daily bread”.
Outside, the pier coughs off
the commercial honks of weighed cargo
reeked with labor’s perspiration,
where pawnshops buzz with greed's snicker...
the evening owl attempts winks
under the grime of bloodied moon…
it spits the larynx of tenants’ raged hoots
wishing morsels of fresh sunset
would pour some grace of life’s salve. I weep
before the shrill of red sets in... again.
------------
Truth Contest sponsored by Anthony Slausin
Re-post 5/28/2019
Fog on the road, white out conditions.
Cannot see a thing; wind bats car back and forth
Sideways, as we try to advance forward.
Slap. Slap. Drive. Slap. Slap.Drive.
The windshield wipers appeared to have turned on.
Oh, I guess I did do that.
It does not help at all. Slap. Slap. Drive. Slap.Slap. Drive.
Christmas Eve. The car is sliding, we whirl in
A complete circle, BAM! When we hit another car,
The trunk pops open. The gaily wrapped presents begin
Throwing themselves onto the freeway. We are still spinning.
I get a glimpse of a small package, and watch a semi
Smack it away, in a furious head-butt. Spin. Spin. Spin.
Some fool honks. I know we’re in trouble, I think.
Whomp! We land in the side of a snowbank, three
Feet from the freeway. Fog on the road, white house
Conditions. Watch out everyone! And you can stop
Blowing your horns. We know!
From the lofty snowcapped peaks
of Kilimanjaro
The morning mist envelopes its verdant foothills in a tight embrace,
No need to hurry, this is not a race,
Beads of sunlight dancing across the glistening dew.
As the plains of Amboseli reveal their golden hue,
There's movement spied where none existed moments prior,
A herd of Zebra lounging in their elegant attire,
The lush grasslands beckoning them for yet another day.
The few Wildebeest amongst them if only they could talk they'd say,
We're happy to be safe in this weird and motley crowd,
Despite the fact these Zebras are so boisterous and loud,
What's a little banter when the promise is of grazing in contented peace.
Double is their luck as the pert Egyptian geese
Act as wary Sentinels, their honks resounding loud,
Alerted by the pride of crouching lions, their countenance so proud,
Scouting for that meal for their young to feed.
A Wildebeest or two would fill those hunger pangs indeed,
Were it not for those Hyenas prowling on their scent,
To steal their hard-fought prize definitely hell bent,
Neither party cowered, neither will give
ground.
But what's a little tiff when prey does so abound,
A fragile land of bounty, God's country that's for sure,
Where every single creature finds ways to gainfully endure,
Africa in all its glory, nature’s living work of art.
In a humble hamlet, not so grim or glum,
Lived a goose named Lucy, quite the funny one.
With feathers fluffed and waddle wide, she'd roam about,
Her honks and hijinks would make the townsfolk shout.
Goosey Lucy, with a gait so giggly,
Tripping through the town, she'd make the old men wiggly.
Her antics were a antidote to any sorrow,
In her wake, the wisest smiles would follow.
She'd slip and slide on streets so slick,
Her slapstick spectacle was a comic trick.
Giggling gaggles gathered to glimpse the goose,
Every tumble and topple, oh, how they'd whoop and hoot!
Lucy's loony looks could lighten any load,
Her beaky ballet was a quacking ode.
In fields of fluffy dandelions, she'd frolic,
Her joyous jousts with butterflies were nothing short of symbolic.
The baker, with a belly full of bouncing bliss,
Would toss her crumbs, which she'd never miss.
With every peck, a chuckle would escape,
Her gratitude as grand as any grape.
The children, with their chortles clear and crisp,
Would follow her, their laughter never amiss.
Through the village, with its cobbled corners,
They'd skip and sing, little carefree warriors.
Goosey Lucy, with her humor so infectious,
Turned the town's collective frown into a smile impressive.
Her humorous adventures, a local legend,
Became the town's treasure, a comedic covenant.
So, here's to Lucy, the feathered friend so funny,
Her memory in our minds as bright as the sunny.
For in a world that can be quite the mess,
A goose named Lucy brought us comic finesse.