Long Ledges Poems
Long Ledges Poems. Below are the most popular long Ledges by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ledges poems by poem length and keyword.
This day
in the deep country, the sky it is high, blue, and vertical,
with no hand holds, nor anything for the eye to cling to.
In the city we don't get 'big sky, we get pencil thin rays
to sweep our dusty ledges, we have elevations
where the sky fades to gray on viewless windows.
Far below, down on the hemmed-in streets
a few trees, stretch, reach like mountain climbers,
In the ghetto, doors clutch at pidgin cluttered roofs.
Mostly
we give no thought to the sheer narrowness of it all;
how the city closes in on itself.
it's no wonder some choose to leap,
rather than foot-slog up an ever-descending
staircase.
She rose up, great green turtle of mystery
From chlliy depths of sapphire blue.
Drenched in a rich history,
Centuries of legend, lore and tales true.
Her shores are cloaked in limestone,
Ledges of jagged natural protection.
This grand Turtle Island alone,
Is Gitchii Manitou's perfection.
From her Eastern Shore,
Where the Arch rock stands tall,
To lover's leap and its lore,
Where Lo-Tah leaped at her lover's call.
Devil's Kitchen where wen-di-gos did
dwell,
When the winds come lashing in
Screams of their victims still echo well,
Washing over the Turtle's shores again.
North it's a great pillar of stone,
The very wigwam of Gitchii Manitou.
It stands tall, proud and lone
Watching over the Isle in the jewel sea.
Near the center is the crack in the island,
Where the Giants fingers grasp.
For when he loses grip with his hand,
The great turtle will sink once again, alas.
Near the old docks in Genoa where old dwellings stand close together making streets narrow and families live is
lived rather noisily, where women hang laundry to dry on small terraces or on window ledges.
Sometimes when several street merges, the open space is called a plaza, where fruit seller, tobacconist, and cafe where men sit and smoke, drink red wine, and argue
about politics, in a gruff manner.
When the crew on his ship took a taxi up to Gramsci Street to seek the bright light, he walked to his cafe, lit a cigarette drank good wine, ate bologna or ricotta or Gorgonzola and salami
The people accept him sitting there, because even if Italians drink they are not drunks falling about being aggressive as people from Nordic countries tend to be.
On a tall wall, a placard, partly torn depicting the face of a politician, they said he had been a good man for the locals and looked after his friends and family like an Italian man should.
When the war ended and since he was on the losing side, he fled, they thought he was in Argentina, he was of no interest anymore, better not to talk about him.
This sentiment is quite true, at one point we must look to the future and forgive those, who thought they had
done the best for their country but it turned out they had
failed miserably
Vase Dream - c'est la vie
White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from…
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
Happened along
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie
Intact
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
An ally
Another fate for vase awaits
Less encumbered
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie
If so inclined
Or so designed
Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
Reflections That Reside
Innumerable Cumulus clouds gather just up o’er the green hill
Considerable quiet lathers the air as my heart begins to fill
Formidable resolve tethers me to the place I’m lingering on the window sill
Forgivable sins repeat the circuit and relieve me of my iron will
A small repentant afterthought claims it’s steak inside my mind
I almost fall resplendent in the juggernaut of feelings that I find
Standing tall among the prevalent moments of doubt I remain refined
When it all remains like a defendant standing brave among the blind
I see children starving at the edges of abomination in the name of humanity
I see men standing on the ledges of their own attempts to avoid suicide among all the profanity
I see women begging for the bombs to stop awash in the depravity
I fear that it all will remain like time forgot to stop the repetition of this insanity
When things were light and I used to smile for the entire day
There’d be delight and I could revile in inconsequential play
Now there’s no respite from the suffering as I fear I’ve lost my way
As the insight from the introspection affects everything I say
Abolishing racism and colonialist beliefs that oppress the people
Have made things even graver as they take refuge in the steeple
Polishing my urge to save her while they contest what is classed as lethal
Admonishing the conversation while they continue to conceal
I retreat back to the clouds to take a break from all the slaughter
Then repeat the smoking of the shrouds as he sells off his teenage daughter
I’ll linger long and play it loud as I miss my longed for laughter
Because the haughty and the proud keep taking coins from the local pastor
So bleak in my reflections of a society that is lost
I speak in reverent genuflections as I think about the cost
Of having wayward turns of bad intentions that manifest as spiritual frost
Ill try to burn the condescensions as I stand up and take it all upon my cross
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
As I watch this radiant space
Beyond cloud’s torch, prayers retrace
Where the ledges of Prague’s border
Adorns steeples touching moonlight.
In Lesser Town of holy rites,
Infant Child stands like gleam so fair
As I watch this radiant space
Beyond cloud's torch, prayers retrace
A chorale drifts in soft procession
Jesus’ feasts blaze with devotion
Where the ledges from Prague’s border,
Infant Child stands like gleam so fair.
As I watch this radiant space
Beyond cloud's torch, prayers retrace.
*Lesser Town: place in Prague, Czechoslovakia
where the famous statue of Infant Jesus is enshrined.
Thousands of pilgrims join a parade to honor and show
RESPECT for this Child.
Dr. Ram Sonetta Rispetto
by nette onclaud
Hectic red steadfast on earth and anchored fast
Caught in the beginning of the end of working days
To yield a common profit from the land as harvested
On beams of yellow sun light set in motion in the Spring
Beings on oceans of colors with orange poppy fields
That only feel the warmth of winds circumference
Along with golden wheat that is ready to be taken in
Before eaten by Winter strangers and their friends
In a spectacle of hills rolled up in evening green
Beds of vegetation dream of wheat in foreign lands
Under blankets of sky pulled up to open window ledges
A baker gives full attention to making bread
The aroma drifts to the seashore close
While Spring goes back to sleep at peace
And near enough to hear the ocean break
Collapsing waves upon the shells already there
Someone in the wooden cabin listens fervently
Watching out for Summer whispering in
An open vase or vessel fills with country air
Prepared to hold the flowers of the field
Cut with kindness ready for the dinner table
Bread and water are there for company
As well as comfort for some weary bones
An old couple still find romance in holding hands
Vast open lands that radiant with natures colors
Require receptacles made of clay to celebrate
To display the beauty of the day while saying grace
Wind and rain bring back the wheat fields from the past
Swaying flags of yellow gold on beams of light
Anchored from the soil up to the sky
Boundaries emergent to lift the fleeting eye
Flickering light might indicate the end of power
Only shade can hide a candle going out at night
In reference to the Purity Wheat Domain
It remains the same in brightness
Honey Locust Trees, perched precariously on
Ledges lost amid ruptured chasms of evil
Ant hills, protruding fistfuls of grapefruit-sized
Giant ants suffering remnants within sight of
Chernobyl, in the Ukraine forbidden zone;
Seemingly immune to the poisonous pods;
Literally dripping heavy ants clinging to juicy,
Waxy seeds as they climb and fall over each
Other feasting on spandrel sins denied by silver
Palaces adorned with backroom deals and
Shady hats glittering with guava-glazed
Toasted pecans, spun with rain-soaked
Clumps of blue spirulina hungrily engulfed
By the living dead...
Enrobed
In
Pock-marked
Palladium
ORIGINS
I
It began in the dank basement of the Thallasic column
steeped in abyssal brine of a thousand supernovae
so much alchemic sludge churned up, expelled by the co-tidal vice into the epeiric sea
A million points of organic flotsam and jetsam; Indra’s vast net billowing, swollen and bloated by myriad regurgitating fountains, shattered vents, open ocean scars
from which inky bathyl streamers wave to and fro
a trillion interactions, a revolution every second
The colossus flexes, stirs.
II
The inland sea carved a path awash with silt and sand-grain memories of a thousand shores
the alluvium mire replete with vagabond deposits
buoyant and bobbing
ethereal strands of angel hair wafting through the abyss
nerves and sinews and veins
myriad natant snowflakes tripping atop organic ooze
vast web spanning to the lapping fetch on clay-layered littoral ledges.
III
The swirling brew, rain-pummeled and vent-swollen
dividing, sub-dividing, swept by bitter sea brine
its mind’s eye under a thick film squints open.
---Life was not wrought in the witch’s cauldron---
---The Cauldron itself came to life---
The Universe awoke from its eternal slumber, and Thalassa stirred
rocked and bathed in a vast organic web, star lit and floating in a Nebula of Dreams
IV
Information-gathering units
each body a corpus of datum
splitting, spinning, joining, fusing
probing, flattening, bloating, separating
spawning countless non-appendage heralds
crawling, flying, walking, swimming, floating
WE ARE THE MANY IN THE ONE
WE ARE THE ONE OF THE MANY
WE ARE THALASSA
My new kitty cat arrived in a tattered box,
she has long grey fur and looks like a fluff ball;
and it turns out she is quite a chatterbox,
but at first kitty is shy and does not play at all;
she is so sweet and innocent and very small !
As the days pass she becomes really brave,
I see quickly how naughty a kitten can be;
she likes hiding deep in my under the bed cave,
when I want to hold and pet her- she will flee;
my home looks like it was hit by a tidal wave !
Sometimes, my kitty will lay sweetly on my lap,
and naughty turns to purrs- oh so innocent and nice;
she pushes things off the window ledges to catnap;
and for supper, I feed her warmed up chicken and rice,
and I soon learnt that to stop a mad dash- just clap !
"Kitty could be called spoiled but I love her to pieces,
and each day our love for each other only increases ! "
Quote _by Constance
_______________________
March 04, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/She Arrived Innocent
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1436-346-04
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Naughty Yet Innocent
sponsor, Mohan Chutani, Judged 03/06/2022
Eighth Place