Long Hydration Poems
Long Hydration Poems. Below are the most popular long Hydration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hydration poems by poem length and keyword.
Well, get up on time,
See your days pass by.
Don’t ask questions,
To leaders of suppression.
Cause court is in session.
Obey this do that,
When you go out,
Don't wear hood or hat.
Ah, eat more Tyson food
City gave us a candle,
Ask for a meal, they might be in a good mood.
Lights, camera, action,
Fake your true reaction.
College teaching us
Basic subtraction,
Wondering if it’s all distraction
To what we love to do
Ah, sulfates in shampoo
Don’t complain about
Government voodoo
Whatever you do
Whatever you see
Don’t take it too personally.
Cause you might change the world
May do what they don't want you to.
Might abolish greed,
And you might uproot their evil seed.
Ads littered on t.v.
It’s bait for the hook
Crooks stalking my Facebook
Someone’s in a fight,
But people enjoy and look look look.
Well, Billy threw up
That corn syrup.
Read your schoolbooks and shut-up.
Rise for the anthem,
Rise for the pastor,
Labeled dumb for not
Thinking faster.
Sally resisted two faced authorities.
Cells are filled with innocent minorities.
Ah, preach it on hills
Lights flashing in Area 51,
They shut down my windmill
I’m faced with a giant and my ammo equals none.
How is my grandson gonna live?
If all he does is forgive
Those who take and do not give?
I’m staying home today,
To relax and pray.
Ah but GMO is in my fruit.
Saw a man trade his soul for a nice suit.
Hypocrites smile with snakes in their boots.
Ben came home with black eye
Then left his mama without a goodbye.
Mamas sittin on the porch only to cry
For her son who is now getting high.
Last week he was a victim in a driveby.
Read all about it in the news.
Single mother of none in suburban town of blues.
Little girl taken in an alleyway,
Policemen said they'll find her another day
Unless the parents have money to pay,
You won't be seein her face, hey!
Little girl grew up hangin by street corners,
Asking for one night for only four quarters.
Meanwhile in Flint Michigan
The water is polluted brown but they ain't listenin,
So the citizens are thirstin’
For some hydration.
Metals in their water
While the mayor counts his dollars
The governors apologize
But it's just more lies.
Read all about it in the news,
Truth is kept hidden in suburban town of blues.
It took place shortly after and the stage was set
before words before ink before heavenly breath
There was a rain on the parade
of eternal monotony
and the angels were elated
In the Beginning God created... the verse everyone knows
tantalizing phrasing that leaves you on your tip-toes
before grass before plants before earthly foes
And the earth was without form... (and talk about void!)
It was there when it was all lightning and storm:
chaos untamed in watery upheaval,
though the celestial walls were impermeable
Enough disarray to make a grown man weep
And darkness was over the surface of the deep...
It was there before it was given the title: Sea
Before light was birthed with a "Let there be"
Blanketing the earth with cerulean comfort
in preparation for ethereal tickles,
despair happy to take her wings
And the Spirit of God was hovering...
Like a golden eagle dipping down
into azure pools
knowing mountains will soon rise from your depths
... but LOVE is the requisite
... and HOPE is the heart of it
Just like the weather that's about to hit the scene,
before Pangaea performs in emerald green
... and there was morning the Second Day
Can you not hear your doubts just wash away?
---remember what happened on the Third?
I'm sure you do---
As you see Him reaching down with liquid love for you,
longing to invigorate your being
He wants to split you in half
as the Rod of Moshe
made watery walls of crystallization
He longs to enter into your towering trust
(and not just on occasion)
For sometimes the Water of Life is dramatic
Sometimes it's not
And sometimes your fears could use a little irrigation
(right now your eyes could use
a bit of prayerful precipitation)
Remember the ruby water that dripped down
the Face of the Son
that fateful day
Drink it in Become full
Indulge in humble hydration
Your heart will tell you what you should
And behold it was very good...
NOTE: Moshe is the Hebrew rendering of the name Moses.
Written April 2nd, 2016
For the Element Water Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Six Words Used: Impermeable, Requisite, Invigorate, Crystallization, Precipitation, Hydration
Everything was green and lush as I walked the hiking path,
little did I know that soon I would be hopelessly lost and
entangled by the forest with foliage impermeable. I walked
miles. Soon I was weary and so thirsty, I knew it was a requisite,
even perhaps death, I needed water soon or die. Suddenly a
needed precipitation, a sweet drizzle of cold rain falling on me from
twisted branches above in the tree canopy. I cupped my hands and drank.
Stillness surrounded me, not even the birds sang, all was quiet.
Pausing, I then heard the sound of water in the distance calling to me,
and I started to walk in that direction, energized by the thought of the coolness,
running through the thorns and decaying fauna, stopping and starting,
twisting and turning. I stood there panting listening and still hearing water.
Then I rested on the decomposing forest floor and fell asleep and dreamt . . .
How did I get to this lovely place of waterfalls and brilliant foliage and a
river of icy blue flowing into a lagoon with flowers blooming and trees so green.
Every perfect thing you could image was before me. I plunged into the lagoon,
exhilarated. How I needed the hydration and I drank to invigorate myself.
Wonderful sprays of serenity held me and I never wanted to leave,
and under the moon I swam and dived in the emerald blue iciness, but
then, I awoke and knew I was not of this realm anymore. I was to be
eternally part of the icy blue, a water fairy dwelling in a beautiful lagoon,
reality gone, now I am the crystallization of water, a sweet hazy reverie.
From my watery grave, I whisper to you in dreams, come my lovely, come
and join me in the misty blue, oh it is magical where I dwell in water deep.
In my realm all is tranquil and peaceful and we can float free and calm,
rest your soul in my crispness all the night, come my lovely, come. I promise,
you can leave when you wish- or perhaps you will stay with me in the icy blue.
_______________________________
April 1, 2016
Poetry/Acrostic/Elements Part Three- Water Fairy
Copyright Protected, ID 16-773-743-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Elements Part 3: Water
sponsor, Brian Davey
First Place
I'll climb
the tallest mountains with no stress,
I just need~
a helmet, rope, and other climbing gear,
warm layers, good boots, maybe some fear,
a bit of my heart in my mouth,
to chase the butterflies from my belly—
no need to fight against my shadow~
it'll be too tight upon the rock,
wrapped
as image around
the creeps
like a siamese twin
afraid to be
u n j o i n e d...
then, with gentleness,
without my blood running cold,
so the teeth of cold don’t bite too deep,
up my legs will climb~
a step at a time,
slow and steady~toward the top,
trusting my body to do the rest~
just pausing...
to refuel my throat and tum,
sip from the hydration bladder,
and from my backpack, grub a hiking snack...
When at the peak—/\
show me the bullet,
let me bite~
now too far for my feet to still be warm,
release the wings~~~
let me f l y
like an eagle~~~
let me s o a r
far into the sky where no star gleams
and no moon glows nor sun shines,
where angels peep~and I can see them
and the roars of lions are like
w h i s p e r s
and thunderbolt shouts are dim,
where s i l e n c e is loud, yet never speaks
where lights are like shadows,
with f l i c k s brighter than the sun,
and fires that burn with no flame—
just pale blue s m o t h e r s ~
in a womb so sullen and solemn.
Will I get friends among the a l i e n s,
if I fly~~~in a saucership, oxygen-filled,
and with dinitrogen oxide~ to force a laugh,
to rise from where l o n e l i n e s s
has thrown me:
down in the dump;
face like a wet weekend;
just to have the blues;
what if the saucercraft c r a s h - l a n d e d ?
Will I be found—still human—
like in
"There are Martians Among Us?"
But wait...
are the lights on, and no one at home?
am I far away with the fairies?
If true,
then there is
a method
to this
m a d n e s s.
You probably feel like the world is against you.
This letter is for that young woman from fifty years ago.
She was eighteen years old; that was me. I experienced those feelings back then, and as I look back through a reverse mirror of time, I realize that while the societal context may have changed, the emotions and struggles I faced remain relevant. They highlight enduring themes like resilience and identity.
Individual experiences are crucial; they illuminate broader issues and provide vital insights into the historical context that informs today’s discussions. Focusing on the past is essential for understanding present challenges—it doesn’t hinder progress; it fuels it. By sharing my narrative, I hope to empower young women and inspire them to recognize the connections between the past and the present as they forge their paths.
Forget about your looks; they will come in time. Look around you; it’s all about visualizing what Mother Nature can do. The potential is there, but you may struggle to understand how to harness it. I assure you that you can profit from the land. Those wild aloe stalks you see are just the beginning. In fifty years, they will be showcased in the beauty industry.
The Pure Aloe Vera Gel: Aloderma Pure Aloe Gel is a fast-acting moisturizer that helps restore the skin’s natural balance and hydration. It provides intense hydration for a plump and supple complexion. It’s lightweight, fast-absorbing, and suitable for all skin types.
By 2025, it will cost millions of dollars and be an essential ingredient in most facial products aimed at reversing the aging process. Unlike Rihanna Fenty's product line which focuses on a variety of products, this is about using all-natural ingredients from the land. This was us against the world, and here I am today, looking back in time to see your reaction as you read this letter.
People may laugh at you now, but you will strive to embody the beauty of a goddess. Even as I write this narrative letter to you, I still feel your pain. People back then were afraid of the unknown; we were not. We were wise and adventurous.
Be brave, be strong, and remember that you are sheltered under the blood of Jesus. Read Psalm 91 daily.
This poem was a fire
Ignited within me.
It heaved and it burned
Inside my chest.
It was a heavy burden and it made me
Go mad.
I knew I would not let it get the best of me,
So I decided I would get on my feet and beat it with rocks
Until it bled.
I would pick up a pen and write down what it said-
A love letter, a couplet perhaps?
I’ll write whatever-
I want this feeling to elapse.
My ideas were like new babies being born,
One after the other.
They would not give me a chance to
Catch my breath.
Oh no, they just kept coming
Streaming
Crashing
Shining
Like lights discovered in a flowing river.
I sat on the kitchen table,
Held my lucky pen- and waited for the words to ooze out of my soul.
The sink complained,
“Drip, drip, drip.”
I stared at that piece of
Cold useless metal.
As a glass of water stood by its side,
It trickled tears.
My thirst kicked in –
My eyeballs turned dry,
My hair went brittle,
And words I struggled to say
Were stacked to the roof of my mouth.
I bit my dried up lips.
The moment I would sip that holy water,
My guts would cool down,
And maybe,
Just maybe –
Kill this poem,
That was a fire ignited within me.
Drinking water is such an easy task,
May I add-
It is quenching
Delightful
Guiltless
And effortless.
Such is loving you my dear –
The only contrast is that
When I reach out for you,
Strange hands appear and slap my dry palms,
Depriving me from a necessity,
Expecting me to survive -
And make friends with thirst.
When I stand my ground,
And protest,
They finally hose down my need for water,
And bury my head in an ocean of my own making,
Where my words are blurred and unclear,
Trapped in bubbles of murdered justice
That will never pop.
Aren’t they aware?
Don’t they know?
We all need a sip of water every once in a while.
The sun might hurt the petals by drying them out
But the rain visits from time to time.
When will the rain visit me?
Wash away the distress they have caused-
As long as things stay the way they are,
I will have to find comfort and hydration
In the thought of this promised Glass of Water
That shall one day –
Quench my thirst.
Preface: There is entirely too much water being consumed. People should be satisfied with thirst and being dry. They should think about desert sand, romancing dunes and bleached bones in repose.
People become inflated with hydration
Leaving faucets on, mouths wide open
Under the deluge of flowing water spouts
Every drop is counted against humanity
Wasted on stupid sacks of wet fluidity
Walking around with tongues hung drooling
Carbon based units most insidious when wet
Something is wrong when not forgotten
Hydration is the sin of water taken in
Environments remember every sin
Nature hates you because you take from it
The sum worth of oceans is in their taste
Is salt not dry? Is it the flavor of the day?
Environments are crying for revenge against humanity
Parched deserts are void of thinking water
There is no shame in thirst
Under the sun there is no shade to hide
Heat and land flow dry on to tomorrow
Adding water to a person porous is a sin
Being parched is not when plugged up properly
Emptiness can be dangerous but it is kind
This condition of dry is a state of holiness
There is nothing that a desert can not fix
That which buries you is friendly
Leakage is a crime against humanity
People who drink will end up in a well
Will sink in perpetuity to new depths
Hollow to the bitter end down in a hole
Not worthy of a soul worth drowning
Emptiness will follow you to oceans depths
In debt you will be swallowed whole by them
They rise to levels with high tides to float
To their horizons saturated with insurgence
Where will you go when waters stop you cold?
Fluid intake is a compromise to thirst
Don’t do it if you are wise
It weighs heavy on the bladder of the drinker
People who leak on lawns should not
Should be arrested and pay high fines
Urination is not the nation I had in mind
When I moved into the community
Actions have consequences when not dry
There is a cure called incarceration
It comes with a slice of bread but no water
Because that would be wrong
For the damage done to lawns
You cannot tell someone how to be poetic.
One of the beauty's of God's creation is variety.
Everyone has a different way to view the world. So expression is personal and how they do it,
is how they do it.
You can dislike the well and the pump,
the water may be bitter, but poetry is a pipe.
A pipe is a pipe. (I suppose you can hit
someone in the head with a pipe,
O but this one likes it?!)
Contrite=Clean pipe=poetic hydration= delicious
A garden, apologetics' pardoned.
So many topics of value to water and brighten
in synthesis
Most relatable in at least one way,
some maybe a vantage point yet to be reached.
Poems written, certainly make sense to the Poet,
intent for them
timing of delivery.
The poem vehicle is guiltless and clean.
All non maliced expression is beautiful.
Beauty is there to be seen.
Reaching others is beautiful,
poets know what I mean.
Indeed, a contrite heart's expression cannot be
told how to beat, rhythm or song.
Channel the mind's lifeblood to transfuse
in drops of iv connection.
It is a personal inner working, each
with personality,, a variety, multiplicity, complexity, ingenuity with it's multitude throng of shadows long. ing, to show a cog run
spilling for a dawn ing, kaleiding
with its own gratuity,
with other spring unleashings, seasonings
scent of sprigs sprung reconciling-filing,
suns setting down,
pages aglow with flavors abound for of sight,
sense, touch of taste- of the profound.(a bit much?
No)
A psalm, a palm, a plum, a tongue
(testing, tasting litmus for the truth)
Expression is our spirit animal's instinct.
How can instinct of feeling, "intuition" be wrong?
You may be wrong, but your feelings are always true.
They are a telling of the truth as you know it.
So transpose your interpreter,
3D ink your printer, lube for that ultrasound hum,
seeing reaction, scan for it
and hope for more, so that we can see what
was in you all along.
Then throw up in the bottomless pit,
because you are impregnated with it.
It is squishy, you can feel it in the pit,
under your feat.
I would help the air by blowing smoke
into outer space.
Not like the teens who blow it in my face.
Bok Choy!
For the farmer I would bring rain,
precipitation to wash upon delicious leafy greens.
Oooooh!
I would open the clouds just like they were a tap,
with a wave of my hands, stop drought
with a thunderous clap,
cause a streak of lightning just because I can.
I would make the water the purest, the tastiest,
I would take hydration to the maximus!
Nothing but the best for us, for the food
we harvest into healthy snacks.
The Arctic needs more cold
to keep the temperature well below.
Zero would be the problems when my frosty breath
takes hold.
I would use my lungs, my will, my color changing lips, to solidify the icebergs, fortify their length and width.
It is my pleasure, my treasuring,
just the nature of things, taking their course,
the power coursing through my veins
of course from love's mysterious source.
It would be like a tornado on the tundra.
Science meeting alchemy,
like liquid nitrogen caught in a breeze.
Where responsibility meets a good deed,
and nature meets with sorcery, haha indeed!
From Antarctica to the Arctic Sea,
I would do a solid for the life that thrives
on the world's icy shelf.
As far as the eye could see,
people will see me not just thinking of myself.
Even though I wouldn't mind an icee, or a slurpee,
or a magic elf.....a stereo, surround soun.....
ahem, sorry about that..
I would clear the old growth forests
with the back of my hand,
chopping like a kung fu master,
the bark, stump, branch, the whole botanical span,
and i'd pick up the trash just scattered about
and i'd put that sh...put it in a can.
I could take away the fuel
for an out of control blaze,
and give it to the elderly
for warmth on cold winter nights
and cold winter days.
It would also ensure to the animals
a lifelong place they can run and jump
and also graze.
But no cruising please,
it would be weird to run animal's vehicle plates.
I'm just sayin'.
Fever and Chills
History writes itself
invisible pens find surfaces unknown
private life
public life
fever and chills sleep together
heaving corrosive air
from colorless lungs
hearing but their own moans
their own cries of ecstasy
how loud
how soft
From boardroom
to bedroom
clinging to manufactured essence
flesh bleeds with century's plague
ignoring contagion's history past
nurturing instead
weed gardens of delusional orchid and rose
These darkened windows aloft
where seductive airs of passion molt
fail to hide the pores of covetous fantasy
gluttony's vaporous hydration
ready to flake
While all about
Ether's wake delivers
sirens and horns
delivering ambition's twisted celebration of death
one less emergency burden
one more dodging of tragedy's awareness
the One-Percenters' plunder
destined to erode
like sand castles knowing little of ebb's inevitable tide
How courageous for some
To incandesce amidst shallow atmospheres
even as infirmity goes unnoticed by those
embracing fleeting moments
momentarily exchanging covers enfolding profit reports
for the silk and satin kind
king size queen size
makes no difference
For these of duplicitous breath
life becomes but a fool's gold enlaced treadmill
unquenchable thirst crossing windblown lips
insatiable and voracious spoils
body upon body
The sickness passes its virulent infection
its waste-basket poisons
from all too anxious glad-hands
offering but copper-nickel-dime pilings
greed's weed defoliation of flowered chameleon hope
trickling downward
battling updrafts of street despair
as sidewalk survivors reach skyward
embracing the floating pocket change tearfully
As misery rages below
this citadel high above
protects blind-weary subjects
behind penthouse glass
sitting together
sipping cognac
turning up the Bang & Olufsen
reading sonnets they know nothing of
awaiting the recurring sirens and horns
Like children beneath pup tents of fantasy
they scurry close
securing their panic
denying the dark
Yet
They too will one day know virulence
and await their own
fever and chills