Long Kayaks Poems
Long Kayaks Poems. Below are the most popular long Kayaks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kayaks poems by poem length and keyword.
The seasons revolve in sublime spell,
joyous essence I feel within me dwell.
Summer’s departing footsteps I hear,
as blazing sun mellows down at noon.
In autumn meadow dew pearls appear,
the leaves rustle, they’ll be gold soon.
The seasons revolve in sublime spell,
joyous essence I feel within me dwell.
Dawn’s prism emits the autumn color,
as crimson cloud kayaks across azure sky.
In sunburst landscape nature is never duller,
as in zephyr the fallen bronzy leaves fly.
The seasons revolve in sublime spell,
joyous essence I feel within me dwell
Catching seasons’ signal on my radar screen,
I can detect winter’s approaching shadow.
To soak the last warm air of the fall I’m keen,
in frigid times I won’t be glacial and fallow.
The seasons revolve in sublime spell,
joyous essence I feel within me dwell.
Chilled miasma melts making cyan sky clear,
spring descends through the sparkling air.
Wispy clouds in sapphire expanse appear,
suffused with sunshine the buds bloom in flair.
The seasons revolve in sublime spell,
joyous essence I feel within me dwell.
_______________
July 7, 2022
Contest : The Time Between The Seasons
Sponsored by : Kim Rodrigues
You see them rise while still in the suburbs,
the rings of hills, the wilderness buffer;
smaller, more round than what waits further on,
some sport cabins atop with views quite long.
Down on the road some houses still pop up
for folks who hate the concrete, noise, and trucks,
and at crossroads, small stores with country themes,
selling jerky, t-shirts with wild scenes.
Then small motels folks claim on the weekend,
cars with kayaks, across the ponds to wend.
Just down from that, a smallish petting zoo,
with local critters strutting in plain view,
the kind you wish you could see in the woods,
but they all hide, and that’s for their own good.
Then a small lake, stubbed with second homes,
the kind that you hope someday you might own,
weathered docks and fishing boats on the lake,
could the trout here be big enough to take?
But now the peaks are stretching for the clouds,
buildings thin out, the road the forest crowds,
the foothills gone, these mountains your escape,
a wild land, the kind owned by the state.
Thoreau found solace in his pond…trees made Joyce Kilmer quiver
but yesterday I found our comfort…floating on the river.
We paddled and floated in our kayaks…you know…boats…the quiet kind
gladly leaving our computers and technology behind.
If we wanted to watch a video…all we had to do was look around
If we wanted to listen to music…we were inundated with sound.
We had a constantly changing video right before our eyes
we had the slowly moving water, the trees, the clouds…the sky.
We didn’t need a remote…no need to switch the channel being shown
because nature is always changing the view…subtly…on her own.
It’s like a panoramic 3D movie that is shifting all the time
It’s beautiful..it’s breathtaking…and it doesn’t cost a dime.
And if it’s music that you crave…stop and listen as you float
There is a rhythm to the waves as they brush against your boat.
Then music sung by countless birds from their nests in endless trees
finds its way into your heart as it drifts upon the breeze.
You drift along losing track of time…you flow without a care
feeling the coolness of the water…smelling the freshness of the air.
You instinctively stop paddling…as you drift around the bend
wishing this moment would last forever…hoping this feeling would never end.
and there upon the river…far far from the maddening crowds
reflected in the water…you find yourself floating through the clouds.
I understand what Thoreau meant about his pond and Mr. Kilmer about his tree
because yesterday…as if my magic… the river spoke to me.
As I look at nature, it’s sure delight,
because what I see is a lovely sight.
Can’t you hear the birds take flight?
daffodils sway to the left and to the right,
Eagles soar, with keen and good eyesight.
fish swim, in ocean such an amazing plight,
Grass caresses one's skin at twilight,
heaven on earth; it’s an alluring invite.
Iagos find shelter while it’s still daylight,
just beyond the stream is a campsite;
Kayaks sail by ,underneath the moonlight.
lions roar and the animals run in fright,
monkeys swing in trees, they’re so bright;
Nectar flows, bees have a strong appetite.
one could just bask in nature all night,
Pleasure fills me as I notice a little kite.
Queen lions teach her young,their birthright,
Robbins sing a sweet song; a lovely highlight.
Swans glide across the lake, free of frostbite.
turtles are in their own world,out of the limelight,
Understanding nature isn’t black and white.
valuable lessons were learned here,in hindsight,
Why didn’t I do it sooner? Now I sit and write.
xeroxed fears are gone, they were too contrite;
youth is fading, I want my life to be dynamite,
Zeal is what I strive for when I’m feeling uptight.
* Iago sparrow- Is apart of the sparrow
February 02-12-2020
Contest:ABECEDARIAN
SPONSOR:Caren Krutsinger
I gaze beyond
the sky of sapphires,
waiting for a
spark of sailing light,
listening to
the balmy breeze~
they kiss the
rays of silver,
with tales of
my eclipsed past.
Maybe tonight dandelion
wind will dance in sync~
to sunset kayaks cruising
through wounded waves,
shimmering amidst
tear-stained dunes…
I lean on the seething sea
of seven sisters,
to rewrite my destiny~
learning from flawed art
within my aching heart.
But am I the one at fault?
or were you the
reason we fought?
I question the twirling time,
passing through
hues of forest haze.
Was the blame in
broken melodies~
strung from frail strings
of my antique guitar?
Maybe, somewhere
down the lane of
finding myself,
I lost our rhythm,
trying to fine-tune
symphonies of
frozen love.
Now I’m gliding towards
the moonlight
away from the
soulless midnight,
to reach a cosy shore
where I can knit
quilted patterns,
unraveling a place
that feels like home.
As I’ve been searching
for an island that has no
lifelines of faded vows,
so I’m running
from the limelight;
ice green footprints,
following me and
our musical memories,
like sinister silhouettes.
I never thought that
you were the one,
I always knew I was the
throned queen of darkness.
Who will it be next,
to rescript this
tattooed misery?
Maybe, a poet with
an acrylic quill softer
than the air I breathe.
Now I’m gliding towards
the moonlight
away from the
soulless midnight,
to rise above the silence.
I still hope that I’ll waltz
through a sphere
where warmth
of faith flickers in
colors of honeyed hope,
and home will no
longer be an illusion,
etched on dusky feathers
of diamond dreamcatchers.
Someday, hourglass pearls
will fall in shades of
this poem I’ve woven
in starry ink~
this is the unfinished story of
You and I.
The sherbet orange light of a fall morning in Connecticut crackles with the scent pine. The lake’s parking lot overflows by nine thirty. The S.U.V.s park in a haphazard manor. The boat crew’s flight from reality – or the emersion in it—began in earnest hours ago. Neon-colored, plastic, kayaks adorn the grass skirt before the water’s edge. Dressed in shades as lively as their hulls, the small craft owners match themselves up with their water-horses. They shove off at random intervals.
geese
land and take off –
squirrels scamper
Disturbed, Lake Lillinonah ripples with the dip of paddle and the morning breeze. The cotton wood trees chatter to passing egrets. The smell of powerboats, only slightly mars the bathing-beauty glow of the day. Days end will find a conga line of cars pulling in to a local dairy for homemade ice-cream. Truly, God is in his heaven and all is right – at least here, for these few hours—in the world.
pink tipped tongues
lick sprinkles from the cone:
eyes roll
There are many ways
to travel down the river.
Swimming, flowing,
diving, using: kayaks,
boats or yachts.
I have seen people
in stable boats, just relaxing and
from it time to time swimming
to enjoy the waters.
Some brave one’s dive in
the deepest and darkest places of the waters.
I've seen people in broken sinking boats,
yet refusing to let go of their boats.
Others are force by the current,
to leave their boats.
Many go against the current.
Some they get tired of swimming and drown;
not knowing that they could just flow and
enjoy the experience.
Many ways to travel the ever-changing river.
How are you traveling the river today?
unspoken ~
the siren of sour-ice sunsets
hangs on the cusp of kismet ~
tied with swarovski threads
of viper-thorns and
sinful solstice seasons ,
I, the mistress of the snake,
slither with the minstrel ,
laying the cobra crown
of ash feathers ~
on your elysian epitaph
where the solaris weeps
and esoteric emeralds sigh …
O blush opal love …
you were my Ouroboros ~
in the skin of seven-scaled saint,
the snake biting its tale
forming forever sparks
of flaming rose rings ~
as eternity emanated healing
on sapphire heart-fire,
surfing on the crest of the sea
with coconut-scented kayaks
that reach beyond
the endlessness of the earth ,
and there was still
a lore of life lulled
by devil-oysters
and ocean-dragons
until death fed
upon what never felt alive …
I reminisce the mists
of medieval romance ~
rippling in your rage
as remorse remained weary
and the clouds
spilled a thousand secrets
soaked with teal and topaz,
this moon-water
became a venom song,
shean and slippery ~
with sarcastic notes
bleeding in velvet,
and the fangs of the fortnight
remained fatal
with their fever of fixation …
but … maybe
our longing is a myth
a reincarnated taboo,
flowing in psychedelic papers ~
like a tributary aching to meet
the soul of silver ink ~
because a torn canvas
is two paintings
consumed into one …
as if, pulses of the lost
dwell between
the diamond edges
becoming twin-flame breaths ~
and the sun sighs
defeated by the
ancestral spirits
hanging low
within the smudge
of liquid sins
in the sky drenched
with smokey blood
of the dusk and the dawn …
in this pathological
heist of premordial passion ~
let the kiss of the serpent
exhume me …
let the python primroses
dress the infancy
of affection that could
not come true …
because,
I'm seduced by the stars
without a script ,
love-drunk on desire
as you melt my tears
into your sweet fire ~
where I blemish …
within wrinkled ache
betrayed … and buried
beneath the pearls you left for me …
I would like to talk about the coronavirus which has caused so many of us to agonize
I will stay away from politics except to say…it has made some people act unwise.
Instead I would like to stay closer to home…after all home is where I’ve had to be
and talk instead how this coronavirus has been effecting me.
This pandemic has seized many things we used to take for granted and put them out of reach…
On the plus side we have spent more time in our kayaks and on walks along the beach.
I haven’t enjoyed wearing a mask…living in this kind of artificial bubble.
but if one person is saved because I wear it…it’s totally worth the trouble.
I’ve hated social distancing…I miss hugging…for goodness sake
I even attended a Zoom birthday party where I could only see the cake!
The wear and tear on our car is better…since we only travel to the store.
and my hands as well as my jeans and shorts have been washed more than ever before.
This pandemic has stopped us from going to the movies…
something we used to do religiously…
Apparently now we’ll watch anything…even the Tiger King…that’s showing on TV.
We are exercising, doing more puzzles and reading…mysteries, novels…almanacs
anything to keep us healthy and our minds sharp as a tack.
Because this pandemic has effected our memory…
for instance…any show we watched when this pandemic began…you know…way back when.
we’ve already forgotten what happens in them and so we get to watch them again and again!
Deborah says it’s not the pandemic…we’re just getting old…but her theory I must poo-poo
I’d rather look at all my faults…and blame them on the flu.
Forget where I put my glasses…walk into a room and can’t remember why…
have difficulty getting out of a chair…feeling a little less spry…
These have nothing to do with old age..I believe it’s academic
when it comes to problems such as these…I blame them on the pandemic.
And I’ve noticed Deborah doesn’t laugh at my jokes as much as she used to…
It’ can’t be that I’m not as funny…and I hate to start another unfounded rumor
but apparently this pandemic can effect a person’s sense of humor!
In conclusion as we are experiencing something in our lifetime
we’ve never experienced before…
I know this coronavirus will win its share of battles…
but we’re determined to win the war.
Watching Homer struggle
to explain how a god wounded by a mortal
cannot die but may hereafter live with minor pain
and the humor when that god
complains to Jove that His supervision of His daughter
is inadequate and His Love too unconditional
while Diomed (or Tydides)
wreaks havoc on the Trojans and Hector
gives it back (in kind)
anatomically correct descriptions
of spears piercing jawbones (and groins)
sons without fathers hunting and fishing thereafter
alone. Written
amazingly presciently!
as a metaphor for Vietnam (our war)
forgotten consensually
as this generation slips lazily away
to Hades (or kayaks to the huckleberries)
where the lights are always blue, gentian actually,
supper's served at 4 and former adversaries
pass the heavy hanging time playing pinochle (and pool).
We're selling the house to pay the taxes.
Pallas Athena wars among the men
from the axle of her chariot
and Venus is injured by Diomed,
standing in the field of battle where she never should have been,
in her adorable hand.
What has this to do with Solomon in jail.
Not the Jewish king, a black American male,
same thing.
Your children can be failed at school and marched to war.
You can be taxed and sent to gaol for the honor of it.
anyone lived in a pretty how town.
We have no obligation
to perform the Iliad or read poems and even Homer
considers Achilles effete (compared to Hector)
and Odysseus is wrong even when he's right.
Therefore, modern man explores
the mathematics of circles in coordinate planes and their tangents
when (sooner or later)
the secret of warp speed is discovered
expansion of the species will be limitless and permanent.