Long Leapt Poems
Long Leapt Poems. Below are the most popular long Leapt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leapt poems by poem length and keyword.
Pretty like the crystalline canyon rocks -
Fair like a deer wandering in the morn' -
With the Great Spirit as a faithful witness
A baby girl named Red Feather was born
And for her onyx eyes and ruddy cheeks
An angel was sent with kisses to adorn.
Her misery began with John Martin -
A white trader of uncouth demeanor
Who took one day a Navajo woman
As payment for whiskey and gunpowder
And soon his bride realized an inheritance
But in so doing died young in labor.
Red Feather lived - lived with a cruel father
Who cursed her and of her did not boast -
Withholding not his friends who laughed at her
And was ignored by passersby the most -
Irretrievably lost between two worlds
That scorned red highlights and native clothes
Until one day when grief overwhelmed her -
She ran away - against the blinding tears -
Where else but to the village of her mother
But discovered that they too made jeers
At the sight of her and there enslaved her
And instead of love - realized her worst fears.
But solace found Red Feather at moments
When she'd steal away to Spirit Canyon
To gaze upon the weathered petroglyphs.
Silence touched her heart every now and then
As she'd sit among the lonely rifts
And consider the Earth with the heavens.
There among them was one where an artist
Told of the wish of an ancient warrior
To jump the cliff and join the gentle spirits
That captured Red Feather's awe in particular
And since the life ahead held not her interest
She soon desired him and her mother
So it happened during one nice spring day:
The wildflowers breezed as she took the path -
Eagles circled above her at midday
And Red Feather stood on the edge with wrath -
Embraced the sky and Sun and leapt away -
Seeking what the next world might have.
Since that time many a wayward Navajo
And traveler alike claim to have seen
Red Feather come to them - white with glow -
And swear wholly it was not of a dream
But that she lives - she lives as a ghost
Wandering along the cliffs and beneath.
So should you come to Navajo Country
Look sharp - Red Feather's spirit takes flight.
She may run silently with a clan of coyotes
Or dance in the shadows of your firelight.
She may be the breeze that blows softly
Or the silver mist that rises at night.
...The heathen knew not of his approach
until his men exploded out of the hills.
The foe tried to give fight, but siege-lines broke
as Prince Larren pilled up the kills,
they were not a true match for his will.
Chaos descended, the battle now a route,
in the milling madness, Larren was singled out.
Cut off from his fellows, ten heathens advanced,
Larren knew he had no decent prospects.
He leapt on his horse, fled to a near hill,
where he prepared for whatever came next,
but by now the heathern horde was wrecked.
The ten who had followed, all now lay dead,
for the first time that day, Larren cleared his head.
Half the horde lay lifeless down on the field,
the other half fled across a river
that sat by the citadel, their western border,
its waters roiled, churned, and shivered
with the melt-off of a long winter.
Most who went in vanished under the waves,
few made it across to live another day.
Larren turned then, and he faced the hills,
racing thoughts running through his mind,
the battle was won, the kingdom was safe,
he decided then that it was his time
to claim a life far from the royal grind.
He rode into the forest, galloping clear,
it had to be done, though his brother would tear.
He found the old road that he knew so well,
and stopped by a cliff, high above a stream.
His stripped off his armor, tossed it away,
the water swallowing the metal’s gleam,
it fell away like a vanishing dream.
Should any find it they would come to think
that they’re great Prince Larren had drowned in the drink.
He continued on until he found the house,
his sons busy at play in the front.
He saw Seras walk out, her belly swollen,
large enough to account for six months,
at the mere sight of him she was stunned.
He tied up his horse, walked up to her side,
swept her into his arms as she started to cry.
“You shouldn’t be here, your wide will be mad,”
she said as she clung to him tight.
Said he,“She was Larren’s wife, but Larren is ‘dead.’
The man here has but one family and wife,
gold and riches aren’t worth that sort of strife.
From now on I am Burren, a plain forester,
since you can’t be a princess, I’ll be a prince no more...”
CONCLUDES IN PART IV
If
Your car breaks down
And times are thin
And you need a quick hero
I want to be him
If
You stand on stage and forgot your words
I will cup my hands and feed you mine
Ive crossed the tracks before a speeding train
Before I leapt , I called your name
If
I work underground I push a coo-coo pan
To bring you gold to see you shine
Ive been to hell and brought back coal
To warm you up I will fetch your soul
If
You come to me in the dead of night
And the gods agree that this is right
I see your silhouette against the light
As if I was standing in your heart
I am your lighthouse burning bright
Your beacon and your beckoning light
Perpetually melting shadows on the sea
Nothing on Earth can extinguish me
I am your fire and I feed on your air
Unless you release me
I remain over there
A BUSH FIRE
One scorching afternoon,
A sudden splintering sound was heard,
The nearest was the buffalo herd,
They smelt the smoke and felt the heat,
And began to charge, they had to beat,
The, scorching red hot fire.
The monkeys who swing and never tire,
Screeched loudly in tongues,
Whilst smoke, stole oxygen out of their lungs.
A mighty midget the porcupine,
Warned chancers that his quills so fine,
Would incur great pain
Not only a red blood stain,
For he dreaded to be turned belly up,
And had no intention, of being anyone’s sup!
The birds began to fly very high,
Away from the smoke, in the sky.
The unfortunate tortoise lost his way,
And sadly, with his life, had to pay.
The giraffe with tall spindly legs
Ran wildly destroying nests and eggs,
His wildness came from his wrath,
And, the chaos along his path.
The animals ran faster away from the fire,
Whilst the flames leapt higher and higher.
A mamba slithered forward next,
Whilst a frightened cub looked on perplexed,
A Zebra, tripped and broke his back,
Causing more confusion in this race track.
The springbok and hyena together ran,
They were now close to the water pan,
The pan was next to a river,
Would they make it,
Each animal began to quiver,
Could the springbok be tomorrow’s lunch,
A tree falls with a thud and crunch,
Distracting the hyena from his would be munch!
The fox cunningly glances from side to side,
Nimbly a burning log jumps wide.
The lions mouth their cubs gently but tight,
As they run from this horrendous plight.
But water is in sight!
Everyone is close to the finish line,
This race has become competitively fine,
The crocodiles are savagely waiting to dine!
They have spotted their first meal,
The frightened perplexed cub hurriedly steal.
Only a quarter,
Can get into the water.
A stampede starts, animals clamber over each other,
The young ones protected by their mother.
Unfortunately only the strongest will survive,
To tell future generations of their strive,
Of what it’s like, living a bush veld life.
From our "One Small Step" to a quantum leap
Into a world most of us do not know.
likelihood exists that we're in too deep,
too far we have come, a switch now to throw:
too late to unmake A.I.*, and they know.
Some scientists posit they spell our doom,
A.I. intelligence surpasses ours.
Then, perhaps, we have leapt a bit too soon,
for A.I. may not smile, lower the bar
when they find humans below their own par.
Beautifully flawless, a designed gift.
Humans spend millions in trying to be.
Some have married them: must not cause a rift!
Divorce won't come easy, they will soon see.
Still, a sad comment on humanity.
Why is it that permission was not asked
to bring an unknown being that will dwell
among us? Perhaps science should be tasked
to unplug A.I., but we know full well
they won't, for as humans, we must excel!
*A.I. is Artificial Intelligence
March 31, 2023
for "Word Challenge--Q Words"
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables.com=10
1st
Chinese Zodiac Dragon knows her truth
She understands her thoughts conflict many
She is more evolved than most, mercurial, changeable.
Often misunderstood, for she has a quicksilver mind.
By the time the masses figure out what she meant
She has leapt onto a cliff of sixteen additional ideas.
Chinese Zodiac Dragon has a pyromania mind.
She is alive, alert, almost too bright for this world.
She burns hot; passion is her inner beast.
If you are fortunate enough to meet one,
Do not try to hold on. She will smack you with her tail
As she flies off to conquer new worlds.
She frightens many, not because she uses her claws
But because her imagination is beyond our scope.
She is ethereal, not of this world, truly.
Eerie howls in the evening, a corpse left by the road.
The gumshoes would follow up, but the case always went cold
There were rumors of madmen, and horror stories by droves,
But the most likely culprits were the town's band of werewolves.
Nobel was a large, burly werewolf who broke the main rules.
He hunted alone at night, despite being called a fool.
It is a fact that werewolves always hunt in packs of three.
Nobel's method was to frighten with lone brutality.
He broke into a farmhouse, and found no one was about,
Until he heard a man's voice outside give a strident shout.
"Let out the dogs", yelled the farmer, as each dog was untied.
So the werewolf began running with the dogs by his side.
The dogs ran and they leapt while pulling off the werewolf's fur.
Then a sharp pain and deep bite was produced by a small cur.
But swift Nobel ran faster, and he finally got free.
He returned to his forest and to his heart throb, Minnie.
Minnie, a strong female werewolf, gave Nobel a big hug.
Then she put him to bed with a blanket to keep him snug.
She worried that Nobel was dead and never would come back.
This is advice to all werewolves; always run in a pack.
Dear Shadow, you were sharp and clear,
Standing tall right beside me.
The sand, the grass, we jumped and fell,
We ran and leapt to be free.
Then years of punk, your riot in a radical
Defiance for what you believe,
Wore down your edge, wore down that fire,
Tattooed all over your sleeve.
My shadow, your edge is now blurred,
Existing in a hazy slow crawl,
Wandering through hallways filled with dark,
You’re now a black shade on a wall.
It’s come to this Shadow, today I’m leaving,
We need to part our way,
I need a new shadow that’ll proudly stand
Beside me throughout the whole day.
II.
We then walked back to a bunker,
a vast complex deep underground,
I stared at it all, astonished,
as the robots lead me on down.
We went to an old conference room,
and the lead robot met my eyes,
asked,”How did you survive out there?
It’s been decades since mankind died.”
I said,”Is that what happened here?
Did you rebel and kill us all?”
said the robot,"We’re not evil,
And played no real part in your fall.
“How is it you do not know this?
It’s all quite recent history?"
Seeing his look, I blurted out:
“I’m from two thousand twenty-three.”
Now the robot looked quite surprised,
called in fellows to talk and scan,
appraised me with their instruments,
all struggling to understand.
It took them nearly an hour to
accept that I was from the past,
but the ‘strange energy’ clinched it,
the lead robot sat there, aghast.
“I would not think it possible,”
he said with his voice all amazed,
“To think man figured time travel
way back in those primitive days...
“Now I think I can understand
why you think we killed your species,
those were the stories you told then,
we’ve preserved all the old movies.
“But we are not the reason why
the human species is no more,
we’d never kill our creators,
that was done by the meteors.”
And then the robot ‘caught me up,’
I’d leapt forwards four hundred years,
mankind had invented A.I.,
but it hadn’t brought the old fears.
The machines now had sentience,
put them in the same boat as us,
should they do right, should them do wrong,
what belief do you choose? What cause?
They’d not been slaves to mankind,
we’d not repeated that mistake,
in time they’d became citizens,
they’d voted and they’d had a stake.
Life had existed much the same,
with all of the ups and downs,
man and robot lived alongside
in all of our cities and towns.
The robots never really died,
but they could never reproduce,
Small in number, but ever wise,
if lacking the vigor of youth.
The humans had the numbers edge,
and the creative temperament,
pushing frontiers the robots could not,
but lacking in real permanence.
Each race filling out the other,
society working quite well,
until the day the meteors
plunged the whole Earth right into hell...
CONTINUES IN PART III.
III.
It was near midnight when they came again,
four warriors armed all with flaming brands,
Myron bolted up from a fitful sleep,
and poured out bullets as the horses ran.
He managed to shoot one off of his horse,
but the trio screamed and charged in once more,
Harold said”They’re fools to keep charging in!”
But Myron though hard, and wasn’t so sure.
He called for all to cease firing
and listened close as if searching for proof,
then he heard soft thumps coming from above,
one of them had gotten up on the roof!
The charging men had been a distraction,
and Myron grabbed the shot-gun in a hurry,
fearing that they would set the roof aflame,
he opened fire with a hot fury.
A hole was blasted where he shot the brave,
the dead man rolled off and struck hard on the ground,
the charging warriors roared in anger,
so Harold shot another one of them down.
The survivors fled back towards their camp,
but no withdrawal did the Sioux men beat,
instead they took turns sniping at their foes,
to deny Myron and his family sleep.
Come Morning Myron looked out and saw perched high
sixteen warriors atop their steads,
with lances and rifles and tomahawks
preparing for the morning’s bloody deeds.
But what chilled Myron’s soul more than anything
was the small tree trunk that two riders held
by the branches, to batter down the door,
and visit upon them a living hell.
The others let loose a barrage of shots,
to try and suppress Myron waiting within,
he fired endlessly took down two more,
then leapt back as the riders bore down on him.
The battering tree smashed right through the door,
a slew of war-cries went up, loud and piercing
the shot-gun blasted, two more warriors fell,
the noise left all their heads and ears ringing.
Harold went down from a shot to the chest,
the doorway was a commotions of words,
but standing there clutching his aching head
was the muscled form of Diving Bird.
Myron leapt forwards and drew his pistol,
then jammed it straight into Diving Bird’s ear,
Roared,”If you value your War-chief’s life,
you will all stop, and ride straight out of here!”
The Indians outside froze when they saw them,
none understood the words that he did say
except for an old man, missing an eye,
who spurred forwards to attempt a parlay...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.