Long Hubs Poems
Long Hubs Poems. Below are the most popular long Hubs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hubs poems by poem length and keyword.
The plum tree over the Zen pond,
reflects in vivid purple colors in the pond,
The scattered colored autumn leaves,
swim in the water with colorful carps with perpetual ease.
The optimist sees the sky is the limit and feel free,
as they watch fallen leaves touch the top of the reflected tree,
The pessimist visions the inspirations going downhill,
as the leaves wither and decay in the autumn chill.
The autumn moon covers the pond with its silvery light sheets,
The sky, galaxies, planets, stars and moon all reflect in its soothing bliss,
The whole contained universe is so calm, quiet and peaceful,
That even a tiny falling plum leaf creates concentric hubs of terrestrial upheaval.
What is the sound of silence?
Who is hearing this sound?
The peaceful heart sings its inaudible melody,
But always wonders, who is that hears?
Date: 5/1/2023
Up to 20 lines poetry contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
I'd wanted a boob job for years
Loud moaning was all my hub's hears
Neath the tree there's a voucher
Soon I won't be a sloucher
Hubs thoughtfulness brought me to tears
His present was such a fab gift
Boob implants and a full face lift
Now blokes ogle and stare
You should see hubby glare
This present has now caused a rift
Next year on our pine Christmas tree
A voucher for more surgery
With huge boobs I was cursed
I'll have the op reversed
Not all gifts will make you happy
FICTION POEM FOR CHRISTMAS LIMERICK CONTEST
Sponsored by Alexis Y
12/04/20
Nice sum
ho-hum
Figures
triggers
transfer
defer
Strict loan
bemoan
Invest
divest
credit
debit
Tax break
intake
Pay in
smart pin
Pay out
for nowt
Encash
that’s flash
Mortgage
bondage
Wage freeze
on knees
Account
discount
Trader
with flair
Bonus
focus
Crossed cheque
ink fleck
Price hike
dislike
Bank app
just tap
Bankrupt
disrupt
Assets
facets
Bullish
flourish
Bearish
finish
Blue chip
shrewd tip
Savings
cravings
Broker
joker
Launder
flounder
Money
sunny
Offshore
of lore
wealthy
healthy
Lodgement
judgement
Finance
by chance
Stocks crash
mad dash
Target
market
Angel
gainful
hubs thrive
survive
Jill and Lucille are two very hungry slugs
They often dine out at their local garden food hubs.
Lettuce, flowers, fruits, sunflowers and beans
These are a few choices from these veggie canteens.
Some clues are noticed from a gardeners view
Slugs are not clever, they often leave one big clue.
Slime trails are generally very clear to see
When they travel for food that they eat greedily.
Flowers without heads and partially eaten veg
It all looks a mess when a gardeners work has been wrecked.
But hedgehogs love slugs that are plump and juicy
That's when Jill lost her friend, who's nick name was Lucy.
Jill left the garden when her best friend became their snack
Near to a hill, is where she met her new friend Jack.
But as with all stories, they change over time
Snails morphed into humans and birthed the Jack and Jill rhyme.
But that is not the first or last of the Jill and Lucille tales
Many more will be published about their life in the Dales.
These girls will be as famous with modern songs for the young
Feminine nursery rhyme rights will never be outdone.
Dear Steven Gageler mate.? Maybe that address to you offends.? If thats is so?
Then we' both know the course you'll take'
Yet here I will indulge a little bit.' In this notion.? (That you've not been hit ) by those who would screw Australia down lock up its Spirit, tarnish its re-known.' Its
Golden promise born un-tamed, the land of
Mining; cattle, sheep and endless plains.' Where hope strikes up despite great floods.' Where bush brigades battle massive fires untill
They get them into hubs.' Where roos and
Emus shadows cast.' Along a ridge as hard
As brass, that sets off well our bodies bronze.' Australia how i love you long, and so Steve? What about a fair go for all.' In a varied Nation whats your call.? Will we beneifit; from an educated youth.? In a land thats its own continent..Come on now bloody;strewth.' We have a world here thats our own..No need to leave its shores to roam, and I speak here of my own know! For should I
Return I'll never go.' Who of us is the greater man.? I have no care..And truly no plan' I'd much rather,
indeed i'd love to see' so many hero's; for i know there be.' In my rugged land down under...Steve take your place.'
And roll out thunder.! PROCLAIM OUR ETHOS TO THE WORLD.! don't deny full web access to ( our boys and girls !)
Team leader Renee peered out
of her faux gold window around a pulsing Friday noon.
“Almost like we’re puppets of each other down there.
Maybe everywhere?”
Albert, her partner and co-worker were apt to look down on the buzz where their joint venture, their central office, was located.
Quite often hoards of people of all age groups hung out, shrieked with joy, abandon, near the hazy plume cafe.
They were snacking and sharing purchases.
There was rainbow signage to the left of this group promoting all the companies within Renee, and Albert’s brief.
The name of their company was Hereafter Unlimited.
Close and “trustworthy” friends formed this postgraduate 7 person cluster which later evolved into quite a
mind-bogglingly complex concern.
Hair-raising hubs were hatched.
Geniuses one and all created one matrix after another of sequential self-financing companies.
Ideas among them spread like avalanches.
Songs and puns were sung.
They had “flames” or “wildfire” intensity at their fingertips.
They were at the mercy of their own brilliance.
Their aim was to bring countryside joys into every nook and cranny in their chosen capital.
There were bookstores, clubs, restaurants and other outlets named after the multifaceted rustic charms that obsessed them.
Each outlet had a communal dining area to draw in clientele.
The underlying idea behind all these shops, stores, stations
was to have a magnetic pull.
Havens, an escape hatch that would leave an out of this world impression on the visitor.
From energetic background music to kaleidoscopic screens, to elaborately sculpted tables, mahogany tint chairs, azure blue halo moon menus, kid zones in high jinx.
Cascade after cascade of hue swirls in tandem with jubilant dance trope very much in evidence.
A magic merry go round motif underpinned each inventive hub.
Once savoured, never forgotten.
Festivity a frequent festoon, mouth watering smorgasbord without rein running riot.
The element of surprise, key and kernel to atmospheres that thrived on visionary continuum
Who is last to be served a meal
Who tends to the kids when they fall and squeal
Who transports kids like they're on a Ferris wheel
.... a mother
We live our lives in the fast lane
The days whizz past so fast
Don’t have time to catch our breath
And we hope our good temper will last
We wake our kids in the morning
Make sure they aren’t late for school
Give them breakfast and a well stocked lunchbox
Although the Ninja Turtles box may no longer be cool!
Then we hurry to our day job
and we while away the hours
then its a mad dash home to greet the kids
Some precious ‘me time’ just isn’t ours
Somehow we fit in the shopping
And take the kids to social clubs
A little down time is so important
Spend time with your friends or your hubs
So get yourself a trustworthy babysitter
Maybe a grandparent or a reliable friend
A few hours with no parental responsibilities
Some precious ‘me time’ is a real godsend!
Take care Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
7/27/18
In the beginning ...," roosts;
Christians and Jewish boosts.
Hubs stretched out their ellipsed
rung, un-Earth cures eclipsed
space; science clues darkling,
emerging as sparkling.
Up and down, primordial
chains--retards cordial.
Time slot checking briefly
when brain cells claim chiefly.
Focused an analyst
review a panelist,
truth and not devious;
now, post-, and previous.
Be of good health, nourish,
mindful, and to flourish
together ... we harness
our outreached true farness.
Constants are the scatheful,
equaled by the faithful ...
life marks trails that puncture
time cross-over juncture.
Naysayers, "That's crackpot!"
Truth smiles at the jackpot
as hopes, a bit mournful
of those fiercely scornful
Truth be told--mortified,
unseat those fortified,
advent-relegating
actions delegating,
doting are distinguished
evil hailed extinguished,
sage passage dutiful,
heart imparts beautiful.
Gauging your fealty
accents self-realty ...
descension diminished;
exalted goals finished.
Daily scriptures strengthen,
understanding lengthen
all regenerated
by the venerated.
A righteous behavior,
prophets teach, a savior ...
of a lost lamb was--not,
for The Shepherd does--not,
hence, Heaven will cherish,
hell reroutes won't perish,
reborn renews brilliance,
transforming resilience.
Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .
Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it once at the back of our barn.
As far as I remember,
It was really so old and rugged;
But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber,
Amazingly fixing all things all-over.
My granda was a well-known painter,
I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers;
When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut,
He was there recycling all my milk cans.
When everything was done,
He gladly gave it to me with a big hug;
I hurriedly drove it at once,
Down the street and field with so much fun.
“My bike was real a unique one!” I thought.
So different from others in our neighborhood,
Its wailing siren was made up of a cow’s horn,
Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn.
Other parts were still the same,
Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set,
The rest were made up of my milk cans,
They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem.
Handle bars were what I liked most,
Converted from the handle of his old plow;
So sturdy and so strong all I knew,
And I can drive it so long in full control.
However, when I travelled quite afar,
Parts were falling one at a time;
Until everything suddenly split apart,
Eventually it dropped and rolled me down.
©2012Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Date: Aug. 3, 2012
4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem)
Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest
Contest Judged: 8/4/12
Poet Sponsor: Secret
I may be old fashioned but I think I will die,
Refusing to believe the lie,
That open plan living justifies wearing a suit and tie.
I am yet to be convinced on the merit of hubs,
Where the Doctors keep swapping patients,
And different sports are no longer good sports.
I think headphones were something worth inventing
But I don't think they were meant for keeping,
The conversation out and the noise in, when at an important meeting.
The good news is that I have not given up hope,
That open plans and hubs are on a slippery slope,
As my grandson who is no dope,
Looks to books to give him scope,
Which pleases this old dope,
Who sees no need of a rope,
As open plan living and hubs may soon be words not often spoke,
With a new generation dreaming of a Den or a quiet space to give them scope,
Which is all that we can hope.