Long Lope Poems
Long Lope Poems. Below are the most popular long Lope by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lope poems by poem length and keyword.
A sharp elbow in my ribs,
Listen,she hissed.
The regular thumping on the back door
Brought me wide awake.
Stealing nervously to the passage window
I squinted out.
There bathed in the moonlit glow
Stood a big Alsatian
Coiled to launch yet another assault.
Relieved I crept back to bed,
He'll be gone in the morning.
Morning saw me gingerly open the the back gate
To see him stretched out
Back firmly pressed against the door.
Alert,he sprang up confident,not cowed,
He,the visitor,making us feel at home.
Never did he intrude,
Only upon invitation would he enter the house.
Sadly we knew
his time with us would be short.
He did stay but a few days.
Had he been dropped off on the road
Late at night,as happened in those parts?
Master gone,relatives unwilling
To hold on to the faithful old retainer?
On walks he never strayed
Throwing back a watchful eye
To check we were not lagging.
His was a soft mouth,never wolfish,
Gently easing food from the feeding hand.
On the day that he had to go,
We were apprehensive.
Ready for snarls or whimpers of resistance
We heard neither.
Once the trailer cage snapped open,
With an almost philosophic lope
He leapt lightly into the cage,
Settling,head held high,paws outstretched.
As the trailer swung out of the driveway,
His image was branded upon my heart.
IF I could make maize grow in a desert
Then that power I possess by your will,
That which can make static air become wind,
That which can cause trees swing side by side.
If I feel down and out right now,
It is that I am not living by your shadow
For when I walk in your shadow I feel my heart serene,
It gives me strength to walk on, to live
THE moment I stray far from you,
I come face-a-face with my enemies I fear,
I meet straight out with devastation,
I discover that all green grass is brown-scorched
And flowers of yesterday have drooped in the sun
As if sulking as in suffering from a cold;
The mountain appears massive and strange
And I speculate: alone who can craft a mountain?
The flash I drift far from you,
The sea ripples with fumed waves and iced storms
As if it is a combat zone for warring nations
WHEN I struggle with you in my soul,
I get upset and my essence sheds tears
Not of hate, but of my incredible love for you,
I am derisory and without you am dead
For I cannot have sane mind-set anymore,
I feel like a man who died two centuries ago.
I cannot lope far from you as your shadow is ample
And it has unsullied, piercing eyes
That can see anything veiled and exposed;
I cannot talk sick of you my superior,
Your sharp ear resembling that of a wild hare
Hears the lot I whisper, you are amazing
I will not think perverse of you
Since you already know what I think,
You know when I am faking at you.
SO by your shadow I shall subsist,
It is not momentary like that of human beings,
Even when the sun is out of the array
And when the moon has botched as often,
Your shadow still shall be felt universally,
Though it can never be seen by man;
By your shadow I shall live
And my heart and soul I shall wholly give you
As a token of my sky-love for you my grace.
What else can I give you other than my heart?
Other than my passionate true love?
THE SURGE
You came like as expected
Winds furiously shaking the ground
Rain unstoppable continuous to pound.
As hours passed, your fierce marks the town
water increases up to its heights but still
you never stop swiping every corner, left nothing to spill.
Scampering, they're trying to lope your ailing temper
Mother and child crying for help but your sound is a tearful killer
parent's cuddled the youngsters, but too strong your foulest curse.
It's not your intention to harm 'cause you're just a phenomenal mishap,
but for those you visited, you're the great destroyer
A mischievous, dangerous thief that left nothing even their foyer.
THE AFTERMATH
Scattered bricks, fallen debris, lifeless bodies on the sidewalk
Mournful view, so sickening to the eyes
You've taken out their lives, now all that is left are frozen as ice.
The beautiful city turns to abandoned graveyard
At night seems haunted, deadly ravage
at daylight you hear the silent echoing in the rampage.
Deaths are still unnumbered, missing still increasing
They who outlive cries for shelter, food for their needing.
Never deter, frustrated mind, weary hearts.
>> the typhoon Haiyan (local name:YOLANDA) hits Tacloban City, Philippines in the 8th of November 2013
Without the families, the balloons,
the printed animal T-shirts
the walkways grow pensive and narrow
into unknown places.
Occasional security lights create
small pools of certainty.
The darkness in-between the glow
balloons and smothers,
wipes away the memory of laughter
and the excited screams of running children.
Nocturnal eyes hover over perch and branch,
peer from under rocks, watch each other’s lamps,
waiting for tell-tale blinks.
Big cats stir, smell prey. They see through walls
an instinctual stalk and stealthy hunt.
If you are alone in that imprisoned jungle
you will keep on the far side of the enclosures,
try to slip away from the low growls, the panting
and paw padding.
but then the moon comes out of a cloud,
you commence to howl, lope along
seeking more of that pacing fear,
more of the thickening air to draw deep into your nose,
a snout now muzzling this way and that.
Without the families, the balloons,
the printed animal T-shirts
the walkways grow pensive and narrow
into unknown places.
Occasional security lights create
small pools of certainty.
The darkness in-between the glow
balloons and smothers,
wipes away the memory of laughter
and the excited screams of running children.
Nocturnal eyes hover over perch and branch,
peer from under rocks, watch each other’s lamps,
waiting for tell-tale blinks.
Big cats stir, smell prey. They see through walls
an instinctual stalk and stealthy hunt.
If you are alone in that imprisoned jungle
you will keep on the far side of the enclosures,
try to slip away from the low growls, the panting
and paw padding.
but then the moon comes out from a cloud,
strangely, you seek more of that pacing fear,
more of the thickening air
draw it deeper into your nose,
a snout now muzzling this way and that -
you commence to howl.
In Cities in Flight
transformations are chronicled over generations.
It can make us cry
out for the genius occurring
now and in our past. How
the unseen, unknown participant
was made known to himself
through devotion to those outside himself. He
guides his city
into space.
So, the father and the teacher
guide the family and the student
through the close spaces of knowledge
and obligation. And perform
the history that surrounds them.
Good actors and directors,
philosophers and physicists,
soldiers and foresters.
Today
steam rose from the asphalt
because the sun
has arrived in place, powerful, equinoxal
as the human song
that receives it.
Two big deer
Lope cautiously
Off the open road.
Two crows
Fly low
Above the Oswegatchie.
Frank Bassett
forester since '57
marks a stand of maple and black cherry
for selective cutting. His actions today
will be noted
by another forester, also acting alone,
in the 21st century.
New York City
in a froth of creativity
Pacino and Sheen in Julius Caesar,
Sonny Rollins at Town Hall,
films opening, one
that portrays the flamboyant style
and dedication
of a barrio public school teacher.
You cannot act alone.
You must belong
in your heart
to the flight humanity makes in Spring, north
toward wild flowers
in geese chevrons.
There are werewolves among us, or so it is said.
Not unlike what you conjure when you think “lycanthrope”.
They plot and they scheme for the blood they will shed;
they lurk in the shadows and feed on lost hope.
Their lens to the world is a skewed microscope.
They're drawn to the viral; it’s vile what they spread.
They must devour others in order to cope.
There are werewolves among us, or so it is said.
These modern day wolves are not of the undead,
but they snarl and they howl at your heels as they lope.
They roam social media; in blog feeds, they’re bred.
Not unlike what you conjure when you think “lycanthrope”.
They strain all the norms, and they push envelopes;
they fill decent folk with much horror and dread.
They dox and and they gaslight and tighten the rope.
They plot and they scheme for the blood they will shed.
They’ll beat a dead horse and make sure it is bled.
Far from gregarious, these misanthropes,
avoiding the spotlight, in darkness will tread;
they lurk in the shadows and feed on lost hope.
So don’t be a victim, there’s no need to mope.
The truth is their wolfsbane, aimed square at the head.
Be a tiger, a lion, not a weak antelope.
The idea seems quaint, but don’t be misled:
there are werewolves among us…
—————
for the One From The Dark Side Poetry Contest
sponsored by John Lawless
written 06/08/22
spires stretch heavenward in a twilight sky
crimson hues and nighttime blues do battle
as people lope lazily over a dusky bridge
like cattle with cameras;
snapping the domed limestone giant
below, boatmen skim across a shimmering mirror
reflecting fragmented moments
cast down from the world above
floating like flotsam; lifeblood
coursing through the city’s stone heart
amid those masses, we watched
the shadows grow steadily longer
and balls of soft lamplight glow gently brighter
until, suspended in the darkening air
they floated like no post was there
then, just like that -
the city shrugged off day’s last light
wrapping herself in the mysteries of night
where amorous wishes and twisting seine scenes
led to candlelit kisses and solitaire dreams
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Most exorbitant in glitters!
O, Divine blessing from above!
Rainbow of multiple colors
And symbol of love!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
A universe, in you, I see,
With its vivacious forms and shapes;
Endless beauty in highest glee,
In you, like landscapes!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Herald of true transformation!
Envoy of great comfort and hope!
Tale of total liberation!
Zodiac in lope!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Image of joy and hopefulness!
Representing undying love!
To express pure auspiciousness,
You're flown like a dove!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Sing of souls and resurrection!
Endurance! Metamorphosis!
Conversion! Transfiguration!
Constance marvelous!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
In a world of cares and worries,
You teach humanity calmness;
Eternally lasting mores
Amid mousiness!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
I so much yearn to be like you,
To live my life flawlessly here;
Flying... forgetting every woe,
Fearless; full of cheer!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
29 December 2021
''B'' Forms, 10 Plus lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
MY HEART IN YOUR HOMELAND
Cupid must have been busy he forgot my heart,
And so instead of a man I've fallen in love,
it is in the mountain ranges my eyes dart.
Sweet, the giddy puffy white clouds above
outstretch his arms to share a shady luff
amongst swarming emerald Spruce that skirt
'round the silky slopes-- like some gloves.
Down quiet is the Loch that stretches its girt
of lucidity allowing passerby's to see pert
Salmon and Trout dancing playfully below,
Delighting both my eyes and so my smart,
a fishing rod, I want to slowly low.
This nature's wonder, I behold for free
soon, I surely want to share with my honeybee.
Some bumpy, some smooth are the long winding roads
One day along my ride, I say hello to this Adonis man
Easy as one, two and three our talks-- climb and flowed
Excluded in my plan, wow! Our love story began...
Cascading soft and longer is our attention span
so velvet then is the glowing blow of our said hello.
No longer, I desire Japan but be home in your land
as to the World's theatre we want to show,
our love like barley seed it sprouted and it grow!
Bright yellow bloom it is while us, a fever red
of fruitful trust and hopeful tomorrows. . .
May we never bleed then later be shred,
instead, like the Spruce wrap 'round the slopes
together we will hold hands to boldly cope and lope.
_____________________________________________________________
©O. E. Guillermo
10:31 pm, January 19, 2015
I only be looking down now, looking inside myself now,
not head set in defeat but reflection, not the thoughts but the actual events that happened, wild flower child, yea right boom boy im a power plant, a quater-back serving audibles, wide-receivers run em in slants, run deep, swapping the rythym up, call it skill or pronounce them fiery darts of the devil, replay read a lot of fake words, deploy nothing but truths that carry troops, dead-zone drop-off swing wide scrape the danger, winged right there then, repairs upmost respected like I have a strong command of the english langauge, a strong sense of honor, PoW's plenty of wise men, plenty that u couldnt challenge on the battlefield, u better be ready to die when you walk in their battallion, Feel the valance the stealth, feel nothing feel what you feel wether its false politics American Goverment, I dont condemn my country, American people be the damn blindest, conditionally unseasoned , refutedly would he die in that war man? Well im a black speck in his eyes dying where ever it dont make a ****, you think a soldier gives a damn about being remembered, nah its about fighting your hardest, living longer, having your friends back, perfecting that last love letter, asking God for guidance, as waiting for it, Command given stretch the ammunition, permissions only to use your intuition, now i put a disatant on that idea's be balanced if you spot it u got it, six strikes 3 terrible battle plans, instructions be on a good heart. we life size- we realize it. we competition cams with a lope pulling deeper compression, true intentions blow up in your mind like mushroom clouds, like the repurcussion was a blast to the laws broken in an accident, cheap shells cheap never be Blaine c cheap s sweetlies b bashing breaking *****es, bullstrong. balls with the brillance, beautiful blows, brainstorming, bulls of bashan beaware the wheel of furtune turns quick ask me I slip out simple vibes I be on top soon. blanks broken hollypoints I keep one jax in the chamber, Bang baby I still hit hard with the power, bang *****es blaine me, can u blame me? Straight and narrow , not like in a false form, warfront back on a warhorse, back on the foremost thoughts of a man with a decision to make..
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