Long Host Poems
Long Host Poems. Below are the most popular long Host by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Host poems by poem length and keyword.
(1942-1995)
when my husband was sick with cancer
i spent every moment by his side
one memory i cherish dearly
happened late one night
when we came across a series
of the joy of painting episodes
in spite of the late hour
we watched three episodes in a row
mesmerized by the soothing
meditating voice of our host
we couldn’t get enough
of absorbing the calm energy
he exuded and shared
ever so generously
and what a legacy he left
bob ross, the world is a better place
because you shared your gifts
yes, god was having a good day
when he placed bob ross on our path
bob was a friend to one and all
especially to animals and trees
his voice was the gentle whisper
of an angel’s wing
his zen wisdom
a gift pure from his heart
bob was sent to show us all
to be calm and not worry
how to find happiness
in a brush and freedom in a canvas
how to be the master of our world
how to summon our power
to move mountains
and bend rivers
meditating with brush and canvas
happiness just a landscape away
no pressure
just think like a tree
every day is a good day when you paint
bob made it look easy
inviting happy accidents
we thought we’d never lose you
then there you were gone
bob ross, we thank you for your legacy
AP: 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2021
I would be wearing a backpack and puppies would be hanging out of it.
Their tongues would be hanging out too, and they would be smiling.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven puppies. Because you cannot have too many.
My face would host an enormous smile.
I would proudly show the holes where teeth used to be.
To let you know that I am not vain, or socialized.
I would be carrying a sketch pad, a notebook, brushes and acrylic paints.
My clothing would be speckled and splashed with reds, greens and yellows.
My I-pads would be hidden. For I use both to cheat at word games.
I might not want people to know that.
My hair would not be brushed. I would be limping thanks to arthritis.
Dogs would be following me, guarding me, saying “this is my mama”.
I would have enough sandwiches in a bag to feed me and the pups.
They'd wade at standards to be seen by most.
The Spoon-billed Sandpiper, who shares wading,
to dying, one hundred ten, and counting.
Stretched East Asia, Russia through China ... host.
They've spoon-shaped bills to help them scoop up moss,
insects, shrimp, and worms. They are renowned for
their calls, which males fly and sing a rapport,
sounds like 'preep' and 'wheer' can stretch it across.
Human encroachment on their feeding and
breeding wetlands threatens their survival.
Predators plague their nest a revival,
two decades, numbers dropped by two thousand.
The ascension for most and few still greens,
a descension of value bows night scenes.
Picturesque holy visions nature’s lands
Horizontal those the views
Elongated greens, mid color trees hands green
Bodies’ trunks grey, black and brown vibrant m
Upper tier skies written painted moving whites dots
On blue stationary canvas
Beauty sounds the tweet carries in the air;
Crisp summer breath
So sweet the heat barefooted are the feet
I walk in seven inch fine grass
So lovely are the trees
Conversing to one another
Waving in the vibrations
~
To each of its sisters and brothers
Beautiful wildlife in compass
Running green grasses under a rampant skies
So crisp clean the air the butterflies cries
Delighted in the tranquil stillness such is life, a life is breathe
What is left clouds? So lovely are the trees
Caterpillar running on moisten leaves
Just darts the rabbit he hops along out of harm’s way!
Deer’s peering eye to eye
Antlers locked about bumping heads challenges
Where translate beholden th’ swollen hill
Covered the red clay dirt fiery boast
~
Green, green hills valley brine
White marshmallows puffs in the skies
So much am I in love with the view
A nature canvas, ’vr natural
Shape shades of greens rolling hills of bladed dews
Who am I to question with my nostrils nor my eyes?
Embracing I am the land set before me
Ever friendly all the lawn those greens
All so friendly waving are the trees
So adorning, I’m exploring my host
Nature’s beauty my senses embrace up close
Yields of country lands reconnaissance
~
Observant pleasant picturesque inviting
Climbs even the breeze, nature grows continually
Naught disturbs thy quiet, all to thy service yields,
I naked ankles down I walk I crush the grasses
Sweet soft small animals scurry away unto me,
For am I not the caretaker
For am I the gardener
For am I the gardener
For am I the gardener
I partake of my visions view
I am the caretaker of my view
Upon my eyes all is well and natures beautiful
For am I the gardener
I partake of my visions view
8/9/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
(a sonnet)
Two realities, both alike in dignity,
In fair America, where we lay our scene,
There fallacious grudges explode into mutiny,
and lawful-blood makes patriot-hands unclean.
From common bonds these neighborly foes,
sail contrary seas of truth; on which they stake their lives.
Some, stoked for misadventure, by the host of a TV show,
do with their scurrilous deeds bury their futures for strife.
The fearful passage of compatriots love,
by continued embrace of marketed rage,
which, admitted truth and humility could dispose of,
fills now our breathless hours and sets our stage.
Which of you, with angry hearts, will patient peace attend,
and back away from martial games so pointless strife can end?
[Exasperation! who can love as this poet?
A host to the heavens and bleeding life?
Conferring words as exchange between God -
angels and mankind?"\]
How his body will end up in dark spaces
and small places -- Palid, stiff, naked!
Yes, jokes! I do make them! Ah! When I
hear these angels speak! Ha! The ones
who left divine dwellings for this rock
called Earth! My fallen 'friends' upon
this clay! Becoming nothing at all!
How they dared! Leaving the brilliant
living light for darker regions.
To what unknown region borne, wilt thou now
wing thy distant flight?
Anguished and empty but can hear and see
humanity grow -- they: pale, cheerless,
and forlon!
:: 09.15.2021 ::
God's bountiful creation,
our hearts with wonder fill,
held now in contemplation
with mind and body still.
Diversity of creatures,
varieties of plants
for our delight displayed here
that we may be entranced.
Among the host of creatures
just who am I but one?
Yet you and I together
the world have overrun.
We've stained its glorious beauty,
good habitats are lost,
exploited or polluted
at devastating cost.
Our planet's overheating
through burning fossil fuels;
all round the seas are rising
from melting frozen jewels.
Where will the plants and creatures
find refuge to survive?
Without their diverse presence
have we the will to thrive?
It's not too late God shows us,
and science also tells,
to change our ways of living
pollutants to dispel.
Jesus, in mercy lead us
consumers of excess
from fouling our surroundings
to making do with less.
Earth, air and seas defiled,
God calls us to restore
for future generations
to wonder at once more.
Diversity of creatures,
varieties of plants
for their delight renewed there
that they may be entranced.
Tune 7676 D: Ewing, Hatherop Castle, Aurelia, Crüger etc.
Fractals.
Spawn of iterating quadratic functions.
Choreographers of cosmic conjunctions.
Impervious to human dysfunctions.
Makers of multiverses. Encoders of creations.
Limited only by imaginations.
Recursive. Coercive. Immensely immersive.
Purveyors of poetic creative cursive.
With formative fractals you’ll melt your mind’s shackles
and be anywhere that you may want to be.
You can form fractals to your own reality,
and make anything in the sky or the sea.
You can even repurpose them to poetry …
Yes, if
fractals were dactyls they’d flow off the page,
whirling and twirling, sublime.
Freeing us, being us, thoughts disengage,
teasing and pleasing with rhyme,
reaping the rhythms of time.
From mundane equations that yet yield complex
repetitive patterns that please and perplex,
come fractals so beautiful in all respects.
Constructors of coastlines and snowflake concerns,
foundries for forests, and feathers, and ferns,
the deeper you dive they have more twists and turns.
Generators of patterns, like veins in a leaf,
and the branches of trees, shapes of every motif.
Look around, everywhere, there are fractals, good grief!
From the large to the small and still smaller they flow,
simple patterns repeating, yet different, you'll know
that there’s just no escaping the great fractal show.
So, let’s face them, embrace them, we’ll host history.
Let us master them, plaster them, I guarantee:
merge your mind into fractals, you’ll set your soul free.
Reconstructed 3/22/2021, for the FRAGMENTS OF VERSE Poetry Contest, sponsored by John Lawless
'Tis another glorious spring and I planted my garden with the expectation,
That I shall reap a bountiful harvest for my table with minimum frustration!
I planted the usual stuff - carrots, radishes, onions and termaters,
Watermelons, peas, corn, beans and a few hills of russet pertaters.
With the Good Lord's help, lots of sun and occasional showers of rain,
The seeds sprang to life along with some curses that are my infernal bane!
I've discovered that I have a healthy crop of weeds that need attention,
And a host of other intrusive visitors that I'll proceed to mention!
I was dismayed to discover legions of caterpillars and mealy bugs,
Pruning my plants along with hordes of ugly snails and slimy slugs!
They're even being attacked from below by gophers and moles,
And from above by crows making diving sorties from the clothesline poles!
'Coons, 'possums and wabbits at raiding my garden are very deft,
And armies of well-disciplined ants are gleaning what is left!
I even caught some nasty little kids filching a watermelon last night!
I chased them but those little dudes took off with the speed of light!
With a storm of wind and hail this morn I saw all my labor disappear!
Come next spring I think I shall opt to sit on the patio and guzzle beer!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
"I have been a stranger in a strange land." Bible, Exodus 2:22
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
Hungry eyes seek substance, food matters naught--
sees the unpleasantness that drains the eyes.
The sea, Heaven on earth, explicit thought
of days that pleased youth oft courses--denies
to the stare of his feet, wherefore and whys,
slowly his head lifts, upright, turned around,
raises palms to rub eyes, lowers ... astound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Rudders turn stern, sails fixed, helms steer abound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
The Creator last passed, blessed the Isles, ought
for the righteous--who first cheered led to cries--
so say I, the Lord of host ..., naught bethought,
lead to temptations; scripturally wise,
threshold darkness crossed, newcomers, eyed prize,
an ancient people's customs, rites, all-round,
diverse power creates oneness, propound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Afeared spread out and a kingdom compound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
An influx flourish, commitments ill-fraught,
church breeds greed, false prophets, true profits--guise,
knowledge sought by natives plots short-changed taught,
forced natives, dethroned queen, kingdom, likewise,
unlearned natives conquered by day, by lies,
time passed, those with knowledge escapes eastbound,
some accomplished, tiresome measures, homebound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Though zilch, non-native highest seat -- renowned,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
Grant, native Hawaiians were first who found,
last Hawaiian; Isles, their burial mound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Moses, Exodus estranged you -- your crowned,
last -- prince by name, adoptee, choose uncrowned.
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.