Long Knolls Poems
Long Knolls Poems. Below are the most popular long Knolls by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knolls poems by poem length and keyword.
Violet Jessop, threat ahead
Escaping Poseidon’s death toll’s
“Look after this, will you?” He said
She did, counting down the portholes
First the Olympic’s nurse enrolls
Last, the Britannic’s noon code red
Titanic claimed her shipmate’s souls
Violet Jessop, threat ahead
Miss Unsinkable showed no dread
There as a nurse of many roles
To safety, others she had led
Escaping Poseidon’s death toll’s
The Titanic, tragedy doles
Passed a bundle with tiny head
As he returned to his patrols
“Look after this, will you?” He said
This man was cursed to join the dead
One thing left under her controls
Hold this babe close while others tread
She did, counting down the portholes
Life for her was not grassy knolls
Dreamt of the sea from in her bed
Board the Olympic, heat the coals
The ocean from her veins she bled
Violet Jessop.
March 14, 2023
"Double the Fun" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Written of Violet Jessop otherwise known as Miss Unsinkable or Queen of Sinking ships. She survived the near sinking of the Olympic, the tragedy of the Titanic and the sinking (after being hit by a torpedo) of the Britannic. Following all of this, she returned to working on ships (including the repaired Olympic) until retirement. One more interesting little tidbit I read, 59 years after the Titanic sunk, she got a phone call from the baby she was handed and saved. I thought she had an interesting story to say the least.
Reflections on a Wall
From the valley floor
A stone arises,
Straight walls of polished blackness,
In between rolling, grassy knolls
Hidden in their cleft –
Arms open wide,
Welcoming pilgrims
Who in pilgrimage approach
It’s darkened face,
Burdened by their tears
Written on a page,
Wounded hearts, reopened,
In time and from far away
In air that hangs so somber,
Yet so full,
Like incense smoke,
Slowly lifting quiet sobs and farewell words
Into Heaven’s air
Until they meld
To final rest upon
The fragrant floral tributes,
As one clear voice of taps,
Bidding youthful souls
And mourning hearts be one again
Within the granite wellspring bubbling up
Like a flame - eternal as the spirit sighs
That rest within the stone -
Where life reflects back to the living
In a visage blank - a void -
Through the eyes of death
To see in the reflection
A mirror framed by silent tears
When hands held in mourning
Trace the outline of a signature,
Remembering the warmth shared
In first steps
Or love awakening,
Then reach out to touch the name
Etched into the stone
Reviving life,
Holding onto a youthful hand outstretched
For one brief moment rejoined with life -
Two souls touch -
Then pulled away into that space
That all mortal flesh fears
To bid adieu again
Across the finite portal into eternity.
Reflections on the Vietnam Memorial – Washington DC
These vast plains of steadfast savannahs
Haunt me joyfully with the silent hissing tune
Of the setting sun, smiling at the
Sashaying clouds of low skies, and ogling select woods.
The earth is brown here (snuff-brown, I insist),
And with the courage of humble humus soil
Into whose fecund wombs the fattest disciples of yam —
Each tuber a testimony to nutritious creation —are nursed.
Need I guess correctly the mating time of sorghum — in the rains
Or in droughts?
Millets keep decent trysts with their kind,
Aping the pullulation of scattered corn, tomatoes and cactus,
And peripatetic weeds, and all other refractory modules of tillage.
Anointing breeze is wafted by the league of seasons,
The illustration of grazing cattle, and singed
Hirsute peaks of knolls near totems hoisted by
Ancestral masters —on foot and on teething caravans.
The pasture, gold-trimmed, reaches the edge of the world,
And glitters with the power of mirage.
Within you, you belabour the point of nostalgia for mind’s
Aging peace fluttering in the distance, a faint, glistening ray greasing
The elbows of noontime.
Large, mourning boulders jilted by jealous streams serve as tour guides,
Deflecting pirouetting spectrums that harass the eyes as you ascend northwards . . . .
Welcome, Rover!
This is Northern Nigeria,
The foothill of God.
Hunter the knight that shines so bright
Your twinkling greens eyes were my delight
There was no task from which you would shrink
two years with cancer always on the brink
From the day your were born till day you died
You treasured each moment you were alive
A bond was formed and you saved my life
Not just once but many times
You suffered in silence an endless pain
as cancer ate your body away
Yet still rose to every call
your love enough to carry you on
With your sister by your side
with Lady Guiniverre you would ride
then walk into that beautiful place
grassy knolls where children play
Into a stream you both would slip
delighted you both would swim a bit
& smile your silly smile with half your face
& run & jump & prance & play
You would both take turns when I was home
Making sure I was never ever alone
Always excited when I came in
from wherever I had been again
I love you both my tears still gush
I hope you did not suffer much
I just could not anesthetize
I kept you alive despite the advice
I wanted you both to be in the same place
in the yard were you always would play
I made your final resting place
I know for at least the last two years
you only hung on to ease my fears
You tried so hard not to die
your heart was willing but your body denied
How lonely you must have been inside
86 days you were alone for the first time
Your sister was no longer by your side
I can't believe you held on so long
just to comfort me once she was gone
86 days is what it did take
then you joined your sister in her resting place
Hunter March 8, 2008 to August 9, 2020
&
Lady Guinevere March 8, 2008 to May 15, 2020
Brother and Sister - Bonded littermates -
American Staffordshire Pitbull Terriers
No words can ever express
the love I have for you
& how much your missed
The sweetest, gentlest, kindest, loving, fur babies anyone could ask for
I will miss you forever Hunter & Gwinny. I love you both.
We had a garden gnome named Griselda
the bane of our small bungalow
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
the worst that you ever could know!
Her garden mate, Gregor, had feared her
but one day he mustered the nerve
with all of our backing, to send the girl packing
with cleverness, cunning and verve.
But she was vindictive by nature
and wouldn't let 'bygones' be gone
if it took all her years, she would stir up our fears
her plans were all plotted and drawn.
She waited 'til we'd quite forgotten
her villainous, vile, evil reign
then with fierce aggression, she took bold possession
of our lovely, dear, docile domain.
She poisoned the pansies and lilies
and shredded the sweet climbing vines
she disturbed my repose, when she broke the windows
with a shriek that sent chills up my spine.
She tore down my front porch swing
shattering the flowerpots and planters
mad wreckage in her wake, as she sought all to break
taking off to the back at a canter.
I squared off to defend my back garden
grabbed whatever I thought I might wield
at first, on my guard, as I entered the yard
I found she was hardly concealed...
And 'though she seemed alone in the garden
I soon found that I was mistaken
for, succinctly put- I was bound head to foot
and carried off, unhurt but shaken.
Griselda had built quite an army
it seems, in her time far away
for gremlins and trolls, from the caves to the knolls
were under her terrible sway.
They answered her orders directly
and smugly, she smiled and she smirked
a gleam in her eyes as she planned my demise
as her minions continued to work...
Heaving in stones from the quarry
they were piling them higher and higher
and my strength gave away as to my dismay
I saw they were building a pyre!
But Gregor'd escaped all their notice
as he'd hid 'neath the back garden shed
and despite his wee size, he would prove her demise
at his bellow, her company fled.
He used a cheap trick, an enchantment
that he bought from an old witch named Rue
and it seemed there were thousands (as far as the eye scanned)
of Gregors that came into view!
Her face was distorted with terror
and she promised that she'd stay away
and off like a blip- she jumped on a ship
and sailed to somewhere near Bombay.
From timeless caverns in our human mind
We stole the solitude from Earth's heartbeat
And left a trail of tears from death behind
With our dung lit realm and need to defeat
The graveyards left to fade away with years
The cities have crumbled amongst the cries
Empty furrows are blown by the wind of fears
Fill up with the blood from our hateful eyes
This crossroad of mankind will one day pass
And when it does. Will we be here or gone?
One more life form whose bones feed blades of grass
Or something to behold, to look upon
Will our pulse be, the sound of Nature's knolls,
Or become wildflowers on graves of dead souls?
9/18/19 contest crossroads
Satsuma Tumour
Sense of Humour?
That Groomer Rumour
Cometh the Hour
Cometh the TAN!
People Power Glower should Flower
Grassy brassy knolls
But proles at the polls
Sold their Souls
To joust like Faust
Ignore Marcel Proust
Cower before the Ivory Tower
Odd bod elite’s law
Tweets of Sod and God
No Enlightening
Repeats the prism
Or algorithm beats
Every criticism schism
“Ism”..a frightening..lightning rod
Pot..black..kettle knack
Debauched cheats pedal to the metal
Out of whack flak attack
Unsettle our mettle
Plot to settle that score
Scorched and torched serfs
Any petal in fine fettle
& the earth's core
She came dressed in the finest of green
To tell the story of a mighty Queen
Who once lived in the hills and vales
Of a distant land;
Where robust rivers once flowed
And game was plenty.
Where children once
Played on grassy knolls
And swam in pristine pools.
Where songbirds sang in sweet refrains,
And eagles soared over bountiful plains.
She painted a scene
Of a fairy tale dream,
Of meadows green,
And skies ever so clean.
Then, she lashed out,
Hot blood from her veins poured,
Her eyes ablaze,
Her blistered skin,
Turned red with rage.
Her voice full of anger and hate
At those who came and stole it away.
What more do you want,
She defiantly raged?
You planted steel in my vales,
Drilled wells in my meadows,
Dug holes in my mountains,
Trampled my grassy knolls,
Took away the green and
Filled the skies with ash.
No longer do the eagles soar.
No more can I give.
No apologies will I make
For you raped my soul.
I gave you a chance
And you turned it to ash.
It is time you paid
For the havoc you’ve wrecked.
My parched skin
I must reclaim.
My breath made clean.
The fruit of my life turned crystal clear
No apologies will I make
For what I must do.
For justice is due.
With that, a bolt from the heavens
Struck a mighty blow
To the earth below.
The thunder roared,
The wind raged,
The clouds turned black,
The oceans heaved,
Tornados ripped across the plains,
The blood of the earth turned red.
On a distant hill stood the Queen
All draped in black
A chisel in her hand.
On a tombstone she scribed,
Here lies the men
Who turned my rivers to rust
My soil to dust,
My skies to ash.
No apologies will I make.
“Mother Earth”
I cuddle a porcelain jar within my bosom
My womanly soul yearns for your eyes
Tracing Christmas eves spent moon- gazing,
Your fingers busy plucking a violin
As we giggled, hummed through knolls of snow:
Had I known that on an exact hour
A crooked cane would roll away without notice--
Bent against the ice of heaven while faint stars
Temper your breath in haste... my own hymns
Would not have stopped their refrains...
But there is an open skyline which leads
Grandfathers like you to rest by their own will...
And I cry among rosy poinsettias
Gliding by the shore: It is near the 25th;
Your ashes spilling now on waves where you belong,
Mourning for all life's twinkles...
My frozen moment adrift ~
December 2018 Contest for Brian Strand
EVERY MORNING I AWAKEN TO THE MAJESTIC BEAUTY THE BRILLANT PRESENCE OF THE BLACK SWAN BATHING IN THE RISING SUN SHE SWIM SO GRACEFULLY WHILE APPROACHING THE SIDES OF THE LAKE WHILE MY HUSBAND AND I PLACE THE BOOTS ON THE GROUND FOR THE FLORIDA'S FALLEN HAND IN HAND CROSSES AND AMERICAN FLAGS LINE THE GRASSY KNOLLS WHILE FIRST RESPONDERS SHINE THE FIRE ENGINES FOR THE BIG DAY THE WARRIORS WALK A PEACEFUL MORNING HUE PEEKS IN BOUNCING ON LILLY PADS COVERING THE TADPOLES AND YOUNG ALIGATORS AS SHE SEPERATES HERSELF FROM ALL THEE OTHER SWANS SPLASHING WATER ABOUT AMAZING LOOKING FROM HERE I AWAIT HER TO PASS THROUGH THIS GLORIOUS PROCESSION THE BLACK MADONNA HANGING IN THE CATHEDRAL IN POLAND COMES TO MIND HOW BEAUTIFUL WHAT A BLESSING TO HAVE THE EYES OF JESUS HERE SHE COMES AGAIN WOW BLACK BEAUTY IN ALL HER GLORY ITS QUITE RARE TO FIND BLACK SWANS AMONG THE REST AND THERES ALWAYS ONLY ONE BLACK SWAN HER DANCE IS SIMPLY FABULOUS THE OTHER SWANS ARE JUST AS PRETTY SOMETHING ABOUT THE BLACK SWAN THAT GRACES THE CITY OF LAKELAND WITH HER GLORIOUS PRESENCE THE SWIMMING MADONNA DIVES DURING THE WARRIOR WALK IN LAKELAND SHE DRIES HER WINGS ALONE AS SHE DANCES ALONE WATCHING HER OWN IMAGE ON THE CRYSTAL WATERS OF LAKE MORTON THIS IS ABSOLUTELY QUITE FASCINATING GRACIOUS MEMOIRS ESPECIALLY THE SIX NEWEST ADDITIONS OF SWANS DONATED TO THE WONDERFUL CITY OF LAKELAND BY QUEEN ELIZABETH FROM A CHICAGO BREEDER WHY I WALK WITH SHEER ADMIRATION AROUND THE LAKES OF THE CITY OF LAKELAND
WRITTEN JULY 30TH 2025 BY
MRS YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
LAKELAND POET