Long Kick Poems
Long Kick Poems. Below are the most popular long Kick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kick poems by poem length and keyword.
AGAIN AND AGAIN
Dreams faded like the shadow!
The tears soaked my long-sleeve
The blood drop from my ears
Like the honey shading from the beehive
The stone striped me
“Again And Again”
Brothers and sisters passes!
The orphans outnumber the shelters
The domicile floods the widows
The life encounter roadblocks
And the sorrow takes the dominion
“Again And Again”
The sun started to shine8
I pushed my self from bed
Ready to start a new day
Although sleep was so sweet
I didn’t hold back until I was out
“Again And Again”
The sun shone brightly
I found my self not alone
But in a team with courage and passion
To chase the intruder who
Robes the lives of our neighbors
“Again And Again”
Ooh! The darkness covered the eyes of our people
By the first time we knocked their doors
It was hard to be accepted
Considering us as members of devil
We kept our focus to open their eyes
“Again And Again”
We came up with the idea to kick the intruder
ABCD played the great role
The team added up the duty
Outreaches to kill the root
The kids were responsive
“Again And Again”
Our voices chased the intruder
And the darkness started to vanish
My dreams were back as before
The neighbors captured the tips
And started to practice
“Again And Again”
Many troops were formed
Ready to fight the existing war
The battle is so tough to leave on hands of minority
The knowledge will be the armor for each
And SRHR as our banner, the hope will touch each
“Again And Again”
By
FREDY Y. ALPHONCE
I. Partial Eclipse
The carousel broke loudly.
We made them laugh.
We made them love.
II. Total Eclipse
If you want passion:
The un-filtered wild joy of heaven and the sacred warming gold,
Seek no more:
Our afterlife is in the herelife,
An unsanctifying rim of coexistence,
A love unvarnished,
Uncleansed,
Sloppy like a junk-filled pick-up,
A warm, hard smile,
The soft, woven kiss,
The thoughtful eye-brow,
The tickle of a snowflake,
The fading pause of the ever un-thoughted pulse
And the fluid motion
We gave no name
In our readiness of love.
We sink to be.
We think to be.
So grow and glow and grow and glow again
In the round and round and round of the carousel we go
For a new moon has arrived
To be shone upon and ever spinning globe.
III. No Moon
The globe
The strobe
The harrowing roads
The blighted, borrowed souls
And I'm tired of poetry, moons, and everything bright.
I wish for a damp cold firmament
In hushing grace with whispering goats and snoring lambs
Where nothing sneezes and nothing aches.
Just the dream-time manger and tired eyes.
The glaze of these images is all I dream for now
As I trek and breathe through wire and meshing
Fighting self against selflessness,
Finding all is greed, the chemical survival,
And love is a feeling we invented to save ourselves.
We will point to the light
But few walk towards it.
We just show others
Where this silent plume pours outward
Into an endless beaming flood
alit pain and confusion,
A solid rigid ray
As in the absolute fixity of text on stone,
The stone plain and sad, like a tumor on the ground.
Kick it and be sore.
Love it and stay forever.
The carousel broke loudly.
It breaks everyday.
Whether or not we leave or stay.
Love or stray.
If you’re cooking
I will do the dishes
If it’s the last thing I do
Because you’ll fight me
Kick me out of my own kitchen
Giggling like kids again
I’ll do the dishes
If you cook for me
I’ll curl up in my corner with a book
While you’re on shift
And smile when you come back
And you will – come back
To me
And my kitchen
Stick on that one song
'Bout the young kids in love
From way back when
The times when we laughed
Cried-bickered-danced-cared
The point in life when we decided
You’ll be the one cooking
And I’d go get my degree
You’d go off to be a hero
And I’d wait in the chair you built me
That rocks just a touch
Enough to swing a tad
A smile cracks as you stare at the sight
I turn the page
You still there staring
I feel your gaze
But I let you stand there
Knowing eventually you’ll turn
Towards the kitchen
Just to yell
“What you want for dinner?”
“What I want is to do the damn dishes tonight"
Outside my window, lightening flashes;
Thunder rattles the glass in the window pain;
Dark clouds have turned the day to night
In anticipation of the coming rain.
I kick off my slippers; roll up my pants legs;
Dancing in the rain is my only goal.
Uptight neighbors watch me with disgust
As the rain now cleanses my soul.
Their prying eyes worry me not
I shed all my clothes showing everything that I’ve got.
Let their shrinks come and take me away.
When the sun returns drying me and my world
The soul cleansing comes to an end
I go back inside with nothing to hide
Waiting for it to rain once again.
I told the truth, and made some mad
Felt threatened, and told me to stop
Tell me who I am, no they cannot
Control my reality, no they could not
Better the view, way from the top
They see me rise, and I see them fall
I got fed up, and said enough
They criticize, I say shut up
Comparing me, and cannot match
I raise my voice, and they are shocked
Some mocking me, and then I block
They had a say, now it’s my turn
Out of my way, have them kick rocks
Call me black sheep, better than lost
I am the one, and they are pawns
Triggering them, with just one word
If the shoe fits, it’s not my fault
I am now free, I know my worth
The slate is clear, facing the sun
A brand new me, I have transformed.
Raven Archer.
The sun climbs the glass-faced towers, Mist rises from ploughed paddocks.
Buses exhale diesel into the air, Fresh-turned earth lifts its dark, clean scent.
Coffee and pastries tumble into the street, Dew beads cold along the crushed grass.
My shoes kick paper from the pavement, My boots wake dust from the track.
A siren threads its needle through traffic, A kookaburra cracks the stillness.
Rain blurs the lines of the streets, Rain wakes the sharp smell of earth.
Fences divide the street from home, Fence lines loosen into distance.
At night, the city refuses darkness; At night, the stars reclaim the sky.
I look between the towers for one clear star, I look down the road for one clear light.
Love feels like it has gone far away
She used to exist everywhere it seems
Now she hides in fear of being used up or let down
Most now, don’t even remember what she feels like
I remember long ago
Love used to have big bright colors
lightening bugs would soar through the night sky
with dancing white beams that glowed in the dark
four leaf clovers would spring from green pines of grass
but would ever elude being found and plucked
by those wanting a taste of its Irish good luck
floral beach balls and pink rubber kick balls were the center of summers delight
camp fire girls adorned navy blue vests and strutted proudly holding red white and blue flags down main street on Memorial Day
lazy polka dot burnt orange black lady bugs
would sleep under the sun
waiting to be scooped up
each child hoping to find the lady
with the most dots
to win the game
cotton candy colored May Day dances held in the public-school yard always on the hottest and sunniest day of the year
each student excited about dressing up in colorful garbs from different cultures around the world
Love was innocent then...
Love had the best aromas too
tide detergent, vanilla extract
talcum powder, wonder bread
sweet potato pie
hot dogs on toasted rolls at the public pool
Chanel #5 on Church Sundays
lots of Chanel #5
Love had the most wonderful sounds
the rustle of fall leaves under your feet
the crunch of plastic sofa covers at grandma’s house
sitting on the porch listening to night crickets on dad’s lap
Maybe love is actually still here
Waiting for us to love her back
She has not been treated well lately
I hope that she will give us all another chance
And come back soon
Hopefully this time
She will stay
My advice is easy, and fun to do
Encourage everyone you see.
Show them the possibility of pure happiness
By joyfully being yourself
Hang out with your tribe
It may not be your family
That is okay; some of us have created a new one
And believe me, they are wonderful!
Go places you have always wanted to go.
Put yourself out there – your real self,
Not the “status quo” might accept you self.
Leave that one at home under a bed
Better yet – put that one in a box and toss it over a bridge
Because you are now joyfully being yourself
In everything you do. Every word you utter
Every sentence you write. You are being true to you.
Sure, some people will not accept it.
Here is a key point – you do not have to kick them to the curb
But ignore their eye roll.
Better yet, tell them it hurt you.
If they truly care about you, they will apologize and learn from it.
If they do not care, it is time you moved on.
Sure, they might be related, but they are not “family”.
Family is the people who love watching you be joyfully you
Go out there and dance you dance, sing your song
Spin circles, jump in mud puddles, howl at the moon
Life is too short to do anything except one thing….
Be joyfully and utterly you.
Truth is a mouthful of blood -spit upon a Persian rug.
A kick to the balls in the middle of the sweetest dream.
Karma doesn't stop gnawing until the soul's licked clean.
And what of our far-off God -that mysterious golden being.
Stirring devils into our kettle since we were mustard seeds.
Everyone thinks of offing themselves from time to time.
Usually when we're running low on honey and wine.
When mad horses trample over our parched lives.
Something brings most back from the frothy brink.
Maybe it's the bouncing star baby sleeping in the crib.
Or the dirty plunger when it finally frees up the sink.
You may as well dance because it's more painful to crawl.
Kiss a stranger on the mouth, have yourself a ball.
But don't bounce the ball off the devil's burning grass.
Or he just may kick over your little white picket fence.
And light up your fake happy little a$$.
Cock-a-doodle-doo! Time is come for you
to raise yer head, get out of bed.
Strum a note or two.
If you cain’t strum, pick and grin – hum a lick.
Enjoy the fun till ‘morrow come.
Buzz a note or two.
If you cain’t hum, blow and suck – mount a show.
Play yer juice harp, B flat C sharp.
Spit a tune or two.
If you cain’t blow tune, howl at the full moon.
Pick a cowgirl – turn, twist, and twirl.
Make them girls swoon.
Laid out with dry cows, gotta git up – rouse
You ain’t home yet, ain’t lost yer bet.
Dodged them hoosegows!
Time to saddle up, stop for a li’l cup.
Coffin varnish – insides tarnish –
Feel like a pup.
A day for hard work, not somethin’ to shirk.
Head Texas big, hitchin’ the rig.
Kick’n heels hurts!