Long Kilometres Poems
Long Kilometres Poems. Below are the most popular long Kilometres by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kilometres poems by poem length and keyword.
My cycling shoes of two and one year are on their last legs.
Stretched, discoloured, looking the worse for wear, with
sole departing from the body; their days are numbered.
The time is nigh for a parting of our ways.
They have served me well
Locked together , secured to pedal.
Turn after turn, countless revolutions,
Never ending kilometres, oe're hill and dale
Through winter splashed puddles
And sweaty socked summer days.
Sometimes cruising at leisure,
Or often pushing at pace
Never missing a beat, reliable as a trusted friend.
But, despite all of this they will be dumped.
Consigned to the waste bin, labelled as , useless,
No longer fit for purpose.
Dangerous, and an accident waiting to happen.
Your time is up.
There will be no breaking news announcing their demise,
Flags lowered to half mast, or, days of mourning
Decreed by a solemn address to the nation.
Schools will not be closed, or major events postponed
As a mark of respect.
They will be gone and quickly forgotten.
But, wait, its never to late to have a change of heart.
Clear a space on a shelf where other bits and bobs of
tools and parts that are seldom if ever used happily reside.
And there they can rest in peace , maybe only to be discovered,
In a future time long after I've departed this wonderful world.
When someone will say,
'They belonged to him, he who loved to ride his bike.
We cannot throw them out , those old cycling shoes.'
A fire burning is a sight so mesmerizing
Especially when lauded it is with words
Enouncing of how great that power which
Rules over us all is!
Flames, being made to represent our own God
Are that which captivates my attention
At all times!
The magic with which they are imbibed,
Potent enough to hold the keys to allow us
Entries into portals where life is said to be fairer
And the power with which they sneer at us,
Tempting us to dip our little fingers in their essence
Makes of them that which shall never be conquered
Neither by me nor by any of my peers
For fires are that which have been created
To remind us all
Of how small we shall remain, faced
With the magnitude of the mystery that hovers
Above our heads!
Fire hold enough potency to absorb in our sins,
Or our promises to be better versions of ourselves,
Or even,
Our choice of life partner,
And of course, in the end,
It is that which gobbles us our remains
When our body feels that it has accomplished its duty
In this world!
A fire, dancing arrogantly, boasting of its hold over us,
Is as beautiful as is the sight
Of the calm ocean sprawled for kilometres on end
Meeting the skies at that point which bluffs our minds
And our vision!
Today was the day for a medical appointment
to prove he was fit enough to drive
It's an annual event for which one must present,
when you reach the ripe old age of seventy five
What's the medication for your pulse rate
at forty three beats per minute why is it so low ?
Fifty years no medication, with gusto he decided,
he would surely let them know
Firstly he revealed , whatever he did eat
was only ever, organic raw
No food is ever cooked, no coffee tea or drugs
it's been that way for thirty years or more
At age of seventy seven he still can swing an axe
to chop a pile of wood
Still quite able to do all the things
as a younger man he could
Be it physical or mental
he has energy aplenty
To run six kilometres daily
be it ten or twenty
Daily exercise, play musical instruments
or just sitting in the sun
Choosing activities
that offer lots of fun
Focus on the breath
through the nose both in and out
Be aware of beauty, the birds , the trees , the clouds
where ever you may find yourself everywhere about
Complete a cryptic crossword, a trivia quiz or two
works the mind , slows the onset of senility
Meditation in the morning perhaps again at night
exhilaration, a sense of guided tranquility
Introduce Tibetan Rites, an ancient form of yoga
a therapy to reduce the ageing rate
As a soul upon this planet, we have free will for our selections
Face reality there's an outcome for the choices we create
It's almost to the point we will need another licence
for the vehicle called the body, which we inhabit twenty four hours a day
It's called a microchip or an ID card. Will you give it your consent ???
I request that every one of us, votes an emphatic nay
20th February 1888, he left as snow fell in Paris,
seeking warmth, bright light and colour.
Provence beckoned, Arles awaited.
Cold welcome soon turned warm, Vincent keen to explore,
keen to advance painting style,
bold colours, dynamic brush strokes.
May day and the yellow house his base, hopes of a collective studio.
Daring colour adventure begins,
townscapes, countryside, ordinary people, self portraits.
23rd October, his good friend Paul arrives,
dedicates a self portrait to him.
Painting solace the quest.
But two months later, no more, their characters and artistic temperaments clash.
Friendship ends.
Collective studio shattered.
23rd December mental breakdown, absinthe takes hold,
left earlobe severed,
but still he paints.
His postman friend Roulin worried, mental strife continues.
Townsfolk complain of disruption.
Red-headed madman must go.
March 1889 police shut yellow house, what now for Vincent?
8th May, Arles ends after 300 paintings and drawings,
25 kilometres to Saint Rémy voluntary internment.
Personal demons, tortured soul, but still he paints, indeed his best,
143 paintings – Starry Night,
at the pinnacle of his genius.
On to Auvers-sur-Oise and journey’s end, July wheat fields painted,
and then its over,
suicide in that painted location.
Olympic Sports
There are several sports in the OL; I would like to see banned,
let us take winter sport, 50 kilometres cross country on skies is to
watch a paint drying if you are cornered in a room,
even worse 10 thousand meters on skates, around and around
they go will they ever get to the finishing line?
Summer sports, some men throwing a plate onto a field to how many meters they
made; and people with an iron ball doing ditto?
In Roman time one tried to hit a slave, which did the sport
interesting, as it is now it is boring and has no entrainment value.
Then you have synchronized swimming, wriggling feet above water
if it is done right according to the expert, everybody gets a gold medal
and we the public are none the wiser.
We must make the sport relevant to the way we live today,
ski board is a good beginning and chasing sharks in the Atlantic
and flying through the air as Batman is entertaining because they
can hit a bloody cliff any moment and if you only have safe sport
there is no point watching it.
It looked an alluringly lovely swing
Or you may say a band of rainbow
The pretty bend like a bow hanging
In the middle was it the arrow
A moving bow with rhythmic steps
Crossing the bluish shallow river
A walking beauty a wonder object
A filigree in memory to stay forever
I zoomed my lens and was taken aback
A girl with a bamboo pole on her right shoulder
At the two ends hung from the rope black
Two yellow pails filled with water
I stay three kilometres away
She gestured at the sound of the breakers
I carry water from this well everyday
And sell it to the thirsty neighbours
Many girls my age do this job
There is no other source of water
It is far better than resorting to rob
She went on saying as I gazed at her
Her eyes glistened
The morning stood mum
In wonder we listened
The reality humdrum
Soon she began
Her rainbow walk
For the broken cans
A handsome rock
______________________________________________
June 4, 2018
Grow tropical fruits here, near where I live,
harvested, immediately, travels sixteen hundred kilometres south
Then returns on that long journey finally stacked on supermarket shelf
name themselves The Fresh Food People, not so fresh , now inside your mouth
Family farm days amongst beef and wool ,one jersey cow for daily milk
goad her in, lock her head inside a bail
Sit ourselves upon a stool, clasp each hand around a teat
gently squeezed, squirted milk, to fill a ten litre metal pail
Transferred inside to kitchen bench could drink fresh milk if immediately desired
On dairy farm aged sixteen, observing milk collection styles
Twenty four hours gets to factory ,they claim its fresh, not me. We've been taken for a ride
Don't support commercial farming, grow my own,visit local markets
Lots of fresh to fill up several wicker baskets
Seek out real meaning of fresh, buy only what fills the wellness bill
nothing's fresh, if you're lined up to pay at the local "supermarket" checkout till
The only milk that's ever really fresh is what's taken, directly from the breast
Lie beneath a dairy cow, get your face right down close to it's udder
Let me know if you are satisfied with your experience and if the cow enjoyed you as a guest
Footnote: Excluded all dairy almost 50 years ago. Am now always feeling rather Fresh !!!!!
If in doubt about what to do,
Start up yet another charity,
And ask donors to use their credit cards,
That should ease a conscience or two.
If in doubt about what to do,
Build an even bigger sports stadium,
That should take their mind off the housing shortage.
If in doubt about what to do,
Earmark millions for a purpose built children's playground,
Where they can exercise and lose weight after a hearty breakfast,
courtesy of the local food-bank.
If in doubt about what to do,
Put in another 50 kilometres of cycle way,
That can withstand a 1 in 100 year climatic event,
In a city that is wind pron and on a major fault line,
Lack of road maintenance funds will justify the project.
If in doubt about what to do,
Don't forget to smile,
As you usher in a new era of prosperity.
Reference to "Swear It Was The Moon" poem,
this site I choose to say...
Have been extending and transcending..
my first comedy stage play.
I'm not sure they'll give me funding,
for such a funny cause...
Though will try my best to manifest
the script with lawless laws.
Today composing music,
it's all so flowing freely-
For piano, guitar and some apar
and violin ideally.
Will only be a little play,
as I am only a beginner...
But hopefully this play will be-
out there and a great winner.
For light and silly it may be,
really want out soon;
It may fail or well may sail though
Blame it on the moon !!
Bamboo vines swaying
Sunlit hours casting shadows;
Darkness swallows light
~~~~~~~~~
Eyelids fluttering
Fatigue closes window blinds;
Dreamy landscapes call
~~~~~~~~~
Haiku moment blooms
One transcendental fragment;
Frozen time reveals
~~~~~~~~~
Raindrops streaking lines
Lightning camera flashing;
Still life photo shot
~~~~~~~~~
Marathon runner
Forty-two kilometres;
Adrenaline rush
~~~~~~~~~
Fruit shop vendor styles
Pink watermelon smiles curl;
Ear to ear aglow
~~~~~~~~~
Old granddad neighbour
Knee surgery aftermath;
Pain loiters limping
~~~~~~~~~~
Starbucks coffee brew
Caffeine fix for blurry eyes;
Workday exfoliates
~~~~~~~~~~
Dangerous curves tempt
Fast and furious viral catch;
Insidious intent
~~~~~~~~~
Fickle fancy flings
Picture stakes a thousand words;
No birds sing today
~~~~~~~~~
Glimpse of beauty bright
Shadows evaporate fast;
Promise of new day
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
30 April 2015
Singapore