Long Landed Poems
Long Landed Poems. Below are the most popular long Landed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Landed poems by poem length and keyword.
the deer died with her eyes open
which means she watched herself
become field
something permeable
I found her on the third day of autumn—
found autumn wearing her decaying hide
like a hand-me-down dress
the flies had already written their poems
in the metaphors of her throat:
small black punctuation, multiplying
I wanted to close her eyes
but my hands passed through
what I once believed was boundary
later the biologist told me
decomposition is just the body
finally telling the truth
about how many selves were always
inside you waiting to be released—
even the child who never grew old enough
to be revision
now when I say I, I mean the forty trillion
bacteria who call this dirt-body home
I mean the deer
the flies
I mean the light
that passed through her
and landed here
in this poem
which is just another way of being eaten
which is just another word for love
by the porous self
"What are you all quacking about?" squawked Reginald Cluck,
Peering from his coop, quite out of luck.
A drizzle had started, a timid, soft weep,
While others still snoozed in feathery sleep.
"A little rain never hurt anyone!" chirped Pip,
Whose splash-prone spirit rarely would slip.
He’d eye every puddle, a shimmering pond,
With a gleam in his eye, quite remarkably fond.
Reginald scoffed, adjusted his comb,
"Such soggy affairs! I prefer my dry home."
He’d seen the contest poster, a splashy delight,
But preferred his reflections, all polished and bright.
Then a gust, unexpected, a mischievous sigh,
Tumbled Reginald forward, right under the sky.
He landed with grace, in a puddle so grand,
A most dignified splish across the wet land.
His feathers, now plastered, his dignity skewed,
He blinked at his image, delightfully new.
"Let's do the chicken splash!" he suddenly cried,
As the "Mystic Rose" whispered, "Don't hide your wet side!"
And so Reginald Cluck, once a skeptic so stiff,
Discovered true joy in that watery whiff.
He kicked up a fountain, a most glorious spray,
Proof that a puddle can brighten your day.
When she named Jack as her val,
I knew him never to be a pal,
To the naive girl with the eyes of dove,
For this rascal has been known to shove,
Every soul who has been his prey,
Leaving them all with the eyes of grey.
But Cinderella was sure she will not be the same,
Like the other girls who didn't know how to tame,
The crooked guy with the dreamy eyes.
She rode foolishly on the rascal cheeky lies.
But landed with a thud too bad to mend,
And the crooked val laughed scornfully at her sorry end.
This Cinderella is in many girls I see today,
In a twinkling of an eye they eat their future away,
With just a morsel, a future is marred.
With just a morsel, a destiny is barred.
14/2/19
COMMON Interests
Kim and I were both taught to be good girls, and we both believe in God and humanity.
We use long poetical rhyming words like insanity, vanity and profanity.
Both of us like the outdoors, and know there are dangerous things like gravel and snakes out there,
Which will jump up and bite our bare feet and bare toesies without a “I’m sorry” or a care.
Our jester-side is actually in charge of the whole family, and maybe the neighbors too.
We are so terrific wearing this hat, that we conduct whole armies, red, gray, orange and blue.
We both enjoy the Beatles – Yellow Submarine, is a favorite of mine, and that’s no fib.
I was a young teenager when they landed in the states, Kim,you heard them in your pink baby crib.
We agree on second, third, and maybe even fifteen chances for people whom we love.
We like imagery that includes billowy clouds, faeries, and a charismatic turtle dove.
We like Dr. Seuss’ Books, especially ‘Horton Hears A Who’ and ‘The Star Belly Sneetches’,
And we would not turn down a free vacation at wonderful South Carolina beaches.
We do our best to comment on other’s poems with genuineness and love, to an entire group.
Our tastes are similar; we love art, music, gardening, animals and especially Poetry Soup.
Key words: good girls, God, rhyming words, jester, Beatles, love, faeries, Dr. Seuss, love, art
Gardening, animals, Poetry Soup
Written: May 1, 2018
There, I stood in the middle of Nowhere
Staring at a figure I thought I knew somewhere
Words lingered but sounds not dared
I and the figure a glance we shared
I felt my resolve weaken, my body sway
As she met my gaze, acknowledging in her own way
At first, she pretended not to care
Like a toddler, my heart was racing out of fear.
This trance continued playing on repeat
Her hands slips and landed on my lips
This session continued on a slow beat
I awoke bewildered, with a lingering heat.
In hindsight, it felt vivid, surreal,
Like the taste of an evening meal.
But like this poem's theme
It was all but a dream.
She was a confident winner
Fantastic, amazing, stupendous!
She came out unscathed in every
social situation whether in the neighborhood,
at home or at work
She was a lucky chameleon!
He was a confident winner
His chess-playing was not fabulous, but
when he switched to Monopoly,
he became a maestro, a magnifico, a wonderman!
He always landed on his feet, holding the most
real estate – always Boardwalk and Park Place
with two mighty red hotels each!
They met, fell in love, and had offspring.
Their offspring derived confidence usually reserved
for the gods and goddesses of Zeus. Who is to say
whether or not they were direct descendants?
They travelled their individual spiritual paths
upholding and promoting each other
inspiring each other’s work, and loving the universe like mad.
Confident winners.
They are everywhere you look.
It is up to you to find them.
The trick is to LOOK for them.
It is well worth the effort!
I think he comes from the Tangerine Sun, she said.
I wondered about this, but she added his name was Tedd.
He’s cool and suave, debonair, fancy, gloriously bright and keen.
I think he’s a star of some kind, a consort to their queen.
I had to see this runway type of an alien guy.
Don’t question my instincts; please don’t ask me why.
He sauntered up to me and asked me to take him to our king.
I told him that I would but his lazars he could not bring.
He put down his weapons, and sauntered toward me in a swishy way.
I wondered what he would be doing to us by the end of today.
He did not make small talk, preferred to sit in silence, being grand.
I asked if he wanted anything. He said “yes, a jazz band.”
So we brought out the band, and they gave him a taste.
Of what our music sounds like. He began to twist at his waist.
He boogied and two-stepped and began hopping around.
He radioed the mother ship “come on down, I have found….”
A wonderful planet that loves orange, and is jazzy.
A place where we can swim, dance, play, and be snazzy.
A bigger ship landed, and fancy aliens came out.
Being fancy and noticed, is what they were all about.
He landed on the other world and knew
his time on planet Earth was truly through;
the place he'd come in time to call his home
was full of strangers, pastures new to roam.
Ten moons were visible that starry night,
the sky was red, and all the land was white,
such lakes the astronaut had never seen,
and not a single plant or tree was green.
The others greeted him and asked of Earth
(a place they'd left behind but known since birth);
he smiled as flying horses crossed the sky,
and sat beside the girl who'd caught his eye...
He slept beneath a thousand shooting stars,
so glad he'd chosen Zeus instead of Mars!
written 1st July for William Kekaula's Most Beautiful Sonnet contest
Over 400 years ago, the arrival of 20 or more enslaved Africans are called ‘The Beginning of USA Slavery', which are much more complex than that.
We were kidnapped from Angola, forced on a Portuguese ship, tied from head to toes, Europeans called "The New World"—stolen from that ship,
English pirates confrontation on Mexico coast 20 or more,
“Odd *******” landed at the Point Comfort 1619, English settlement would become Virginia.
Injured defenseless, don’t know what to do; would you?
Duly noted, colony’s secretary, famous as the widower of Native American Pocahontas.
The horror of the journey began with 350 slaves, onboard “The San Juan Bautista",
One of terror, hunger, death even before the piracy begins,
Half would die Portuguese ship, some of millions would perish,
Middle Passage, 1600s to 1800s, before the docked near Veracruz,
Overboard they would go, feeding the sharks valuable no more.
2019 anniversary of the slaves, arrival in the USA must be observed,
No more shall it be paying tribute to perseverance and resilience,
African-American History Commission, Virginia’s 2019 Commemoration, American Evolution,
States—Nations—history must remember that we are Americans,
Complexity as it may be for some to know we are here to stay.
Oh fairy isle, beauteous isle thee!
Green delight in a blue jewell sea.
Lovely limestone cliffs rise high,
To kiss those soft blue sky-
Feeling my heart with glee.
From somber Lovers Leap to Arch Rock,
Grand Sugar Loaf to Devil's Kitchen and
Chimney Rock.
Such natural beauty, unreserved,
On a fairy isle so perfectly preserved,
My heart is longing for thee.
To wander along her paths for a while,
Makes my heart sing and my soul smile.
It is the land of my ancestors, long before,
Who first landed in birch canoes along her
shore.
Leaving little bits of history.
Oh fairy isle, beloved fairy isle.