Long In and around Poems
Long In and around Poems. Below are the most popular long In and around by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long In and around poems by poem length and keyword.
West Coast Kool Jazz/ Spoken Word
In the air of the West, a cool breeze blows with a brushed silver sound, air-conditioned rhythm, sleek and precise, a cool jazz crown/West Coast KOOL JAZZ is born, where the vibe slides in quiet silk/where shadows flicker like neon on a sun-worn beach/ Shorty Rogers at the gate of this new thing called WEST COAST KOOL JAZZ/his jazz mates in the wings, a tight-knot of fate/Shelly Manne taps the heartbeat in drums, Red Mitchell bows the bass, Jack Sheldon paints the horn with a silver-traced grace/Frank Rosolino, Pete Condoli—names that hum in the cool jazz groove,/they sculpt the air with breath and blues that move/Soul jazz seeds sown by hands of color and courage/African American musicians paint their jazz chords into a golden collage/Clifford Brown glides, Sonny Clark lights the way/Harold Land keeps the street’s rhythem bumpin high all day/Hamton Hawes deep in the pocket/ Jimmy Bond rings the tone, Man, these cats be takin’ care of business making a living By day, IN THE RECORDING STUDIOS they chart the maps of notes those sight-reading saints in studios with movie scores in their hearts/TV shows and commercials, a vinyl jazz cosmos spun/ they stitched the world of sound until the work was done/ AT NIGHT THE CLUBS WOULD COME ALIVE in and around LA/ SHELLY MANNE’S HOLE. ZARDI’S, THE LIGHT HOUSE IN HERMOSABEACH, THE DOWNDEAT/ IN THE CITY BY THE BAY/THE BLACKHAWK, and the jazz workshop/Dig this blend: cool strutting harmonies in the air/cool jazz meshed with hard bop’s stubborn flare/East Coast grit with West Coast cool in the same breath, MAN, are you kidding me? like a highball cocktail, sun-kissed, at a beachside bar/ The cats kept their business in the cadence of the scene, living the dream/A breeze of brass, a whisper of reed/So listen—let the echoes ride the shoreline of your mind,/where shades of avocado and chrome rivers meet the electric LA grind/ THE SOUND OF THE EAST COAST BECAME WEST COAST COOL BOP/ LESS EDGY AND NOT AS FRANTIC AS A BIRD SOLO/ MAN, COOL WAS THE RULE/ HOW YOU DRESSED, ATE, and walked around town with your lady on your sleave/the West Coast cool sound//where jazz and history MEET/
(Leo - our cat's name)
Dear Leo, this verse is about you!
It's being shared not out of the blue
He is the morning person of all
But he doesn't require a rooster's call
He likes going for a morning walk
Of course; only up to kitchen block
He gets delighted to stirring sound
And responds if he's in and around
He takes a stance by arching its back
And displays his prudence to attack
Wise enough to show his intention
Follows on to catch our attention
He does give no scope to any mess
He never takes food less or excess
Our casual talks filled with his bites
We feel proud to share all those highlights
Decodes signs like a flawless scanner
Wins hearts with an elegant manner
He always appears to be composed
With great love, the best of him disclosed
Tenby sits down on the coast
in Pembrokeshire, South Wales
it's a lovely seaside holiday town
where summer sun seldom fails
Plenty of places you can stay
with B&Bs and caravan parks
based in and around this town
short breaks and weeks suit your mark
Caldey Island is a short sail away
discover its wildlife, explore its beaches
unwind yourself in peace and tranquillity
immerse in its spirituality within your reach
Loads of places for coffee and cake
enjoy a hearty meal to fill you
walk down to the harbour to see bird life
there is so very much for you to do
So many places to visit nearby
with the scenery so lovely and true
it's not too big but not small either
but having been there often, it's brand new
Paul had a near-death experience,
one of the most incredible ones...
he visited Heaven: the place of bliss!
And as he climbed the gold stairway,
he heard many familiar voices he had
known in the previous life...they happily
chanted glorifying God, who was seated
on an ivory throne surrounded by Archangels,
Saints and Prophets whom he remembered
from his Bible readings. He tried to look at
God's face, but he was blinded by an intense light...
more brilliant than the sun itself, then Jesus
approached with his out-stretched arms.
Paul smiled and was elated to have found salvation,
but Jesus kindly said to him, " Paul, your time
hasn't come yet, return to Earth and tell them! "
And briefly pausing He continued, " When that time
comes, your honorable name will be written
in the Book of Life, and angels will carry your new body
on their swift wings and you will enter Paradise! "
Paul's face was expressive of disappointment
and bitterness and weeping replied, " The people
of Earth deride a grave digger so groggy and grubby,
and they mock him with their delirious laughs;
I would rather be dead than return to them! "
" Go and show them your mercy! " Jesus commanded him.
Paul had only minutes before he would be buried,
so he rushed back and surprisingly saw a large crowd
attending his service as Father Michael, the Chapel's priest,
performed the last rites by splashing Holy Water
in and around the shadowy grave. They heard a knock
coming from inside of the coffin...Paul's voice became louder,
" I am alive, not dead...let me out! " Everyone was horrified
and shocked, but Father Michael ordered the mortician to open
the casket and let Paul out. Jubilation filled the chilly air,
and streaks of light filtered through the murky clouds...their shouts
were heard as far as the outskirts of town: Paul was alive!"
I sat with Paul the day after under the shade of a fragrant pine,
and he told me about his visit to Heaven with tremendous joy
and fervent faith. He admitted that he was wrong not to have
shown them his compassion and with the sincerest smile
he proclaimed, " My anger and grudge have vanished;
I have forgiven them...I am so glad to have returned! "
Entered in the ramblig Poet's contest,
" In Search Of The Human Mind"
Assignment: A Near-Death Experience
Thanks to all those brave souls,
the trail blazers
that has gone before us.
They who fell in love,
back when white society
wasn't so excepting or
was intolerant of mix marriage.
Love is made of tough stuff,
couples had it ruff.
So, for a while, some lovers even
kept a low profile.
This has been going on for a long while.
But they took a leap of faith anyway,
staying to themselves.
Love will not be denied.
Now days you see mixed couples everywhere...
Not just in and around military bases.
Today it’s not a shock,
but a pleasant surprise.
Seeing couples and their kids,
from different ethnic back grounds.
And even different size,
skinny and obese.
Both straight and Gay,
more than just Black and white.
As Day follows Night,
all kinds of races mixing it up.
One has only to open your eyes to see,
the mixing of the of the melting pot.
Which is hot!!
Love truly concurs all.
God has taken the spoon
and stirred the melting pot,
from the top of the rim
to the bottom of the bowl.
Hi. I’m feeling scattered.
I’m completely overrun upstairs. where thoughts should be processed individually, at a normal speed. Nope, not for me.
Currently they’re racing. It seems like they’ve created tracks that are now zipping in and around me
I can’t seem to escape, they're at every bend Surely, if I try to slow down, I will get pummeled by the thoughts that are speeding back around. I should install stop signs again.
I thought that PHD said that this is one thing I can control.
If anything, my thoughts are my own. This was it. Though in this moment that feels like a load of incorrect gibberish, doesn’t it? Right. I should make a right. If only I could transfer off this derailing train. Find respite from these Nascar like thoughts who avoid pit stops, relentlessly. I believed I was alright. I thought maybe this time magic happened, and I didn’t have to go against my own head traffic. I was hoping I was cured of this invisible monster and this unpaid debt I still can't catch a thought to bargain with. Several months back, I hired a thought traffic controller to navigate those rush hour thoughts that ignore installed processing stops. Seems like a forever halt is an absolute not.
I’m tired, but like I said, they rarely slow down to stop.
Not even for me.
Also, why do some people like me and some not? Why is it hard for me to accept that I am just a human being made imperfect designed with mechanics that have millions of kinks. To think one day, you and I will cease to exist. I digress.
Do you see how easy it is for my brain to run off topic?
Just zipping by. Ready to piggyback on the next thought passing, “sigh”
It’s quite busy up here in this head traffic.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and just want to cause a pile up to see what happens.
That was a bit reactive but really, like it or not, one day unexpectedly they will all just stop.
Oh Great, another thought.
Good day, I’m a little scattered today. I think I mentioned that.
Oh, and to answer your question, I'm doing ok
Standing in my sin
As those raindrops falling down
Standing in the wind ripped in
Through in and around me
as I stood I stand on hard and ground
This winter time
Moments that's so early fine
I was alone yet not alone
Someone on the throne
In the depths of my sin
God purpose is mine Deliverance
Tried of being sad
Downtrodden hurt being sad
I remembered one thing
this is gentle whisper
this voice this verse of Hope
I was lead to say aloud
When life gets too hard to stand kneel
All you need is following your face while on your hands
When life gets too hard to stand kneel
When the burdens of your pain
are too traumatic for you to sustain
Fall on Your knees
When your wrong choice is become your live voices
and you feel like you're suffering
Fall down swiftly to the ground and kneel
Selah
3/6/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2022
poets hate to get straight to the point, well she hates it, but she's clearly not a typical poet, she may choke on a metaphor or two, but she can express herself with the best of them, unfortunately this poem will not flow as poetically, she has a vivid point to get across, contrary to other works, this poem, well letter, is for him, she didn't just ask for a "just because" teddy bear, she asked him, she noticed him lost near a familiar horizon, perplexed if not tormented by his own thoughts, she noticed him, from the calming waters she danced in, knowingly stepping into shallow waters, that same horizon had her lost in translation, now words that once came easy she cannot convey, his sudden appearance in her life, scares her, she's frightened by possibility, for he could be the "more" she's prayed for, he could be colors to paint the gray skies she's accustomed to, he could be the world that revolves in and around her, he could hum her favorite song to save himself for the sake of her, he could be like a tree rooted deeply in her, keeping her cozy like her poetry, he could be human form poetry, he could be her poetry, the medicine for her sleepless nights, he could be her awakening that jolts her up at 3am to write, he could be as refreshing as rain, he could be here simply to combat her deepest pains, if only he knew more than just her name, if only he could adapt to the rules of her game, a tricky game where he could earn her heart, through writing this her anxiousness, her lion, her inner lion, is tamed, with hopes she ignited his flame, she hopes he runs into a crowd, pushing strangers left and right, all to see her, to seek her, revealing to her that she is worth the pursuit, worth being sought out after, she won't reveal a word, she vows to remain the silent southern hummingbird, but the melody, her lone melody, could come alive in him, now harmony, but she's probably overreacting, she knows she's overreacting, she knows why he's so overwhelming, she'll continue to write and vent to you strangers, she waits until she connects with him... this was her long-winded way of getting straight the point.. in short, this is why she asked for a "just because" teddy bear.. (she laughs)
The nights are the worst.
so lonely.
wanting to hold you,
the pillow becomes your skin.
Arms wrapped around it,
face buried
in nonexistent raven hair
that is yours, but not yours.
arms clasped around
and folded into sheets
that in my hazy dream state
become our hands,
holding hands as we walk
in the park.
Wrapped in and around this
tear stained fabric
we kiss, and I cry
knowing you're only a ghost,
lips I created and neck I kiss made
as real as can be in your absence.
I no longer know where
you begin, and I end.
Every night
I recreate you,
wrap myself around you
tangled sheets
lost in UN-reciprocated desire
wrapped up in my longing
for you and only you
like a mummy, a lonely mummy.
In and around, vibrance abounds,
rhythm of the universe perfect
and each fresh breath intake astounds,
source of which we cannot detect.
Immediate and intimate,
is touch of enigmatic space,
flow of time unveiling our fate,
where our origins we retrace.
Ramana inquired, who am I,
as that awareness self-aware,
ear of the ear, eye of the eye,
as stark truth sages did declare.
When we sleep, ego disappears,
resurrecting itself at dawn,
bringing with it desires and fears,
demons that vanish when we yawn.
We feel limited, caged in form,
yet heart tells us there’s more to us
but since we’re trapped in a thought storm,
concepts continue to nonplus.
Betwixt two thought trains, in the pause,
with the fulcrum, our tranquil heart,
as both the effect and the cause,
we then sense bliss ignition start.
How may magnetism be explored,
that truth of Self be realised,
save by erasing mind’s scoreboard,
that thus ego is exorcized?
Upon ending thought commotion,
that that remains is who we are,
revealed in ultra slow motion;
light that lights each and every star.