Long Inclines Poems
Long Inclines Poems. Below are the most popular long Inclines by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Inclines poems by poem length and keyword.
From a mountain's peak,
to a very picturesque valley below,
these cold and sprightly waters flow...
watching the gyrfalcon cool off his beak.
River, don't stop your flow anytime,
let me admire how you glisten...
running down the snowy inclines;
hearing the croaking sound of a raven.
Further down you plunge into ravines,
and less forcelful than a waterfall,
you splash on rocks and wildflowers...
raring in the manner of a rascal.
No vigilant eagles, or dozing marabous amid stalks,
are found as you approach vast grasslands,
but the ocean is very far and doubts arise;
o river, keep on flowing towards those serene skies!
From a mountain's peak with graceful glee,
you gurgle in flowless rhythm without mistake,
satisfying my dry palate in a dire state;
o river, flow like the blood that sustains me!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
I’m offended by ‘ski slope,’
they should be ‘ski inclines,’
they’re insulting Asian people,
have those fools lost their minds?
I’m offender by ‘Black’ Russians,
when made by pale people,
I’m offended by ‘cow’ boys,
for excluding the bulls!
I’m offended by those who will
mock diversity,
the world would be much better off
if more folks thought like me!
I’m offended by gun owners
who protect their own lives,
it’s unfair that they show such strength,
when I can’t protect mine!
I’m offended some gay people
realize they’re really straight,
why did we even give them choice
if they were going that way?
I’m offended by fast food joints
that serve children French fries,
and when they change to apple slices
I’m offended my kids cry!
I’m offended by the government,
oh wait—now we’re in charge?
Then I hate the fools who protest us,
who do they think they are?!
I’m offended by those women
who take their husband’s name,
but happy when husbands take hers,
that just makes my whole day.
I’m offended when I hear people
say judge by ‘what’s inside,’
don’t these fools know it’s bigotry
to ignore someone’s hide?
I’m mad at those not offended,
don’t they know it’s currency?
And that there isn’t a person
more offended than me?
I take offense at the right things,
and that must make me rich,
poor folks always hate their betters,
that’s why they moan and b--ch!
Do not tell me how the world works
when I want things mended,
you're why we have no utopia,
damnit, I’m offended!
Without a word we get aboard
New lease of life I have to hold
You didn’t tell, but it’s okay
I knew the schedule for today
We’ve got a lot of alco stuff
And dainty food, more than enough
A few musicians, one plays flute
Three others doing strings and lute
Monk is the captain, he’s so nice
He leads the ship by throwing dice
The boatswain’s drunk, rest of the crew
Aren't sure what they ought to do
Nuns play canasta, drinking wine
A beggar prays for sun to shine
Some folks are gazing at the skies
As if they’re taken by surprise
Perhaps they got fed up with sea
Waves sway around you and me
You turn to me your face, so pale:
“We won’t be swallowed by the whale,
I hope, what do you think of this?”
- “I think to get another kiss"
This plot unfolds by its own rules
We're hanging out on ship of fools
There is no course this ship must do
There is no purpose, but a view
Of endless waves up to the line
Horizon darkens, then inclines
Then our ship soars up and glides
Down to the bottomless white skies
And there we go, towards the land
Which doesn’t look like golden sand..
The blue hills on hazy horizon cascaded down
the emerald inclines of rhythmic undulations,
shaping the contours of the harmonic hamlet
where my endearing home was cradled once.
The pristine panorama of clouds spread silent
on the curvature of canvas of the cerulean sky
where my childhood joy soared to great height
with the colorful kites I so much loved to fly.
A calm brook gliding with glistening liquid pearls,
flowed with flamboyant show of silvery splendor,
bedecked our sprawling house with ornate garland
made of embracing loop of mesmerizing meander.
I saw my rainbow tinged paper boat glide smooth,
its course tracking the silent current’s tortuous trail.
On it I perceived to a distant dreamland unknown
my mariner mind with teenage fantasy used to sail.
The boat sank in the whirlpool of a sudden flood,
string-snapped kites flew away in surge of storm.
Rising from ruins I was an uprooted defoliated tree,
turning to a drift wood, in nostalgia I search them.
July 10, 2019
1.
Narcissus
There's a lot of room left in your head yet, my brother
There probably always will be.
Yours the realm of sliderule order
The self-denial of the man who believes in Facts.
Your feet planted firmly on the Earth
While your head inclines to the stars.
You could well serve as God's measurements taker.
Your home is the cloister,
The sound of sandal upon stone
Will usher you in and usher you out
As you pass through the halls and cells
Of your ruthlessly well managed life.
The quiet warmth of candlelight
Has always shone in your eyes.
How much I admire your strength and discipline,
Yet how much the more do I pity you,
O Master of the Mind!
2.
Goldmund
O what a lucky ladies' man you've been,
My darling, handsome little Goldmouth!
Kissed them all and not a one cried
When you left them.
There was too much of your mother in you for that.
The libertine's life was the road you followed,
Running ahead of wilting youth.
You saw the plague and its silent horrors
And killed two men yourself,
Got a taste of the gallows,
Yet lived to tell it all.
You lived much, suffered much,
Burnished your soul to its final brightness.
When you fell and broke your ribs
To breathe your last in icy waters,
Alone beneath that dark, unpitying Winter's sky,
Mother called you back.
The wings blemish on the laminate panel.
The zany suit shudders at dainty muscle.
Sparkling splashes on abhorring emerge.
Brainless spirits shine over despot spurge.
Ill-mannered standards have been strengthened.
Wood chips were deployed to line neurally connected.
Despite laying the fault, she sparkles brilliantly.
Spitefulness, which to boot inclines daintily.
Extreme squalls will expect to be accused.
Humankind real pith has been frustrated.
Scorn and zeal linger at the core of tyranny.
Their pride makes the thin children hungry.
Tyrants grin as they savor their liquor.
Parroting raw decrees to the unhearing slicker.
Written: November 16, 2021
Wrap around me
just so
string yourself through the needle of time
chase the froth of foam lipping the tide
let my nascent heart tap with the tip of your toe
samba, slow dance, make romance
Oh wrap yourself around me
just so
slide down the capo across the strings
through this opening in cosmic signs
birth the waiting wonder of my love mi corazon
limb to limb entranced, your head inclines
Wrap yourself around me
just so
just so
pluck me from the moving melody of rhyme
dip with me as the moonlight strides
let my petals curl with the click of heel I love you so
samba, slow dance, make romance
Wrap around me
just so
*Meant to be sung to Peter White's song “Life Story”.
When I was little, before I started school,
my dream was to be a professional dancer
for I knew I had that natural talent instilled
in me, talent that was not taken seriously.
The magic, beauty of dance stayed in me.
Although, I never had any dance lessons,
I was always selected to perform at my
schools, recitals and community events.
Life took over and as I navigated the many
twists, turns, inclines and descents of my life,
like a roller coaster, it became loud and clear
I was not meant to be a professional dancer.
My burning desire to dance flickered, as it
was put on the back burner for many years.
It was set on fire after I retired and started
dance lessons and living the time of my life.
It has been six years since I have been doing what
I love, dancing to express the beauty of dance in
my feelings, grace, agility, moves that the people
around me watch and feel the liveliness within me.
Yes, they come and tell me ….
The Monk of Mock has fled the flock caught knocking up a tween.
(She brought to light the special rite he sought to leave unseen.)
With profaned eyes they agonise, their souls no more serene
and at the shrine the flutes of wine are filled with kerosene
by men unkempt who once had dreamt but now can dream no more
except when bellowed bellies belch an ever growing roar,
which churns the seas and whips a breeze that mercy can’t ignore,
and in the night, though filled with fright, they try to end the War.
The slow and quick are hurling bricks and fight with clubs of rage
to break the chains and cleanse the stains of life within a cage,
but yield to stings of armoured things that crush in every age.
At crack of dawn, a broken pawn, in pools of blood and fire,
attends the wounds, in blood festooned (the waves flow nigh and nigher),
while ghetto towns are burning down (the flames grow high and higher);
and in their wake, a golden snake is rising from the pyre.
Her knees are bare, consumed in prayer, applauded by the Friar,
and soon it’s clear the end is near - while magpie birds conspire,
the lowly worm is made to squirm while dangling from a wire.
The line was crossed, the battle lost, the losers can’t deny,
the residues are far and few, though smoke pervades the sky.
The cool wind’s cruel, a cutting tool, the vanquished ask it “Why?”,
and bittersweet, from Easy Street, the Pashas’ puffed reply:
“The rules are set, so don’t forget, the rabble will comply;
the grapes of wrath may make you laugh, the day you are to die.”
The down and out, they knock about beneath the barren skies
where homeward bound, without a sound, a ravaged raven flies.
Beyond the Walls, the morning calls the newborn sun to rise,
and Peter Pan, a broken man, inclines his head and cries...
End
Those times have come and gone repeatedly,
Where my search was looking for love.
While this journey often took me to a steep
Slope, and I needed a helping shove.
This only proved what I had been told before,
That a lot of work was needed to pursue.
Yet my lack of experience was on full display ...
I was hiking blind without a clue.
The landscape was unfamiliar, becoming
Treacherous around inclines, to slip & fall.
Knowing that I could easily turn back & survive,
Or continue in a slow-motion crawl.
These climbs have caused me to reach higher,
To greater altitudes where the air is thin.
Realizing that even as my breath is taken away,
The pinnacle has a view to love again.