Long Make noise Poems
Long Make noise Poems. Below are the most popular long Make noise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Make noise poems by poem length and keyword.
In every corner of my floor and everywhere are toys,
the floor is littered- even with some that make noise.
There is a huge floor scratcher shaped like a boat,
and dangly things that I must for kitty daily float.
There is a tall scratch post that is very tattered,
'cause kitty is determined that it must be battered.
There are blankets thrown out of her soft fluffy bed,
and it seems her squeaky mouse have also fled.
There are catnip pouch shapes for endless fun,
and kitty will run with them till she is tired- done.
But, I do not mind the clutter and stuff on my floor,
'cause each day kitty and me bond more and more.
You need to do this
It would be better if you
...did it my way
My way, well, I don't know
I'm still figuring it out
....along the way
Ways,days, leave me dazed
With confusion, illusion, and conclusions
....that never pan out
But I want you to listen
I have important things to say
....I'm a poet, for goodness sake
Words, like perfectly formed turds
Still stink when they are delivered
....no matter how tightly wound
A wounded wound, makes a distinguished sound
On the piano of the heart
....like a weighted string
B R e
a
k
ing.....trying to take on one more note
The pressure of holding it together
Giving way...to the thud, of words
.....pianos float notes...not words
The beauty of rhythm and flow, gone
The whipping of the string, finally free
....to make noise in the air
with WHOever is there
daring to care
for the broken great.
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-30-2018
Note: Fear communications are so damaging...just had to walk away. Also, it's a wounded (injury) wound (past tense of wind...ahhh...words make me silly with joy).
with their words they
embark our minds on a
a journey, a journey to
the garden of Eden, where we
would have jobs, houses, clean water,
electricity, education and better infrastructure.
"Were they claim to have improved our standard
of living".
their words perplex us, traps us, deceives us like illiterate
fools we are, their actions humor us, enlightens us, thrills us,
all in the name of the X.
Their songs takes us back ,back to the days of struggle, sorrow and silence.
Days that paved that gravel road from where we were in 1994.
they do this, all this, in the name of democracy, hiding behind it,loving inside it,
breathing within it, like cacoons, while we make noise like baboons protecting them.
For what?, For them to be rich?, for them to transact our votes for lies?.
damn CAPITALIST.
Their words welcomes offshores with both hands and prohibits my brother from
another border, who suffers because of their policies, protocols, in-competencies, and laws of flaws, from where he comes from. Were the idea of democracy looms on his poor and literate head. Were liberation and democracy was guaranteed, but not freedom. Which looms in my head, were the idea remains on my head, manifest in my heart, runs in my veins, arteries and soul. Where the idea will have to be vowed out, the idea which i will have to pass to my descedants
Form:
Torah: Black Fire on White Fire
Every Place, Every Space,
In Ink, 'Tween Signs, ‘Tween Lines,
Everywhere He, Where are we?
Ask, "Mi Hashem Aylai?"
Not, "What's in for me?"
Descent from Kedushah is "I"
Ego's swig, a "Drink Me" potion of Shrinkingness,
Causing "I" to be Mired in Pride,
My Hand; Plural World vs. Oneness
We are 'Taken In', pleasing "I",
Or Harvard or other Men,
What's the difference? Our Eye's Sty!
Live His Torah, is Zeroing Me Debris,
Our Chance to Be, Alive ‘n Doin’,
Here, Now! Waiting on Him is Freeing.
He gave us Myriad Mitzvot,
To glimpse Him, to Breathe ‘n Do,
To be in His Company True.
Life's not just other Men,
With Them to Hang Out, Them to Please,
Acquiring Clout, our Dodge Cop Out.
Men are Seen, He’s Hidden.
Pleasin’ Men counters Our Goal,
So, He smiles, if We’re Herein.
As He is Here, We don't Fear Scowling Faces.
Men make Noise, when Losin’ Stature,
Men are in Places, not 'Tween Spaces.
Drink In the One, Sip His Strength, to Stand Alone,
Be a Rolling Stone, Not just a Clone,
His Whisper is Choice, so Ignore Men's Noise.
It takes max strength Chutzpah,
Swim Agin' the Torrent, Yet be Current,
Carpe Diem, Be not a Puppet of Them.
Gematria, 301, means Fire equals Call,
Or Fire in Hearing 'Sounds of Silence': A Calling,
Horton Hears a Who, Choosing is Less than to Be Chosen.
Be Strong; You're Created to Be a Man,
Hashem's Eved, In touch with Your Maker,
Answer to Him, not some Faker.
© Chaim Ben Moshe 2018
THIRD WORST CLATTER OF ANTIMATTER
clatter of antimatter
alien dishes splatter
(the shape of spaceships)
his antennas* whir with rising
he considers going wireless
a dish flying at warp speed
like a zillion cyclonic bats
(female Vogon shriek encapsulated by rage)
the creaming of eggs
the earth took a beating
(local yokels evaporating)**
the pounding of this poem
pretty bad prose
destruction of the first and second worst verse
because everyone knows a Vogon
must clink and clank
on its dink and dank typewriter***
the third worst clatter of antimatter
mama Vogon whisks their deadpan bottoms
if you think your kids make noise
you’ve never heard a Vogon cry
D…o….n, well f…i…n…i…t,
Fingers smack on each key, pounding little hammers.
Zip..(return carriage)
How oh how did those earthlings type with these
Zip…(return carriage)
But this is rather priceless after earth’s fiasco
3/7/2017
Shadow Hamilton’s The Noise contest
*American television show depicted a martian with antennas
that would rise from his head “My Favorite Martian”
**Local yokels – an inhabitant of a particular locale
***Everyone knows that a Vogon doesn’t know the “meaning”
of the Universe (or words for that matter)
It's not like a rush of waves
Like I've read in those books
The innocent idyllic lies
Of fountain wishes and
Written dreams and
Patriarchal fantasies
All in illustration
Illusions? Delusions?
All the same
Damsels, dragons, the dammed,
Doesn't feel too far from truth,
Be it written in thousands of pages
before now, in this moment
Knights, nights, party lights
Why wish for saviours when it's now
That my story should start?
Should it? Could it?
Could the masculine energy cope with my defiance
While the moths feast on the dresses
That would sexualise not humanise
The flesh and blood I wear,
It's mine to share
Feeling disconnected from reality
Yet those delusional illustrations
In page after page
Etched in my brain
Make no sense when that glass reflects
The shell and defence I wear
Day in and out
Who am I protecting
I'm only hurting myself
Is it the fantasy of me
The idea I dream for myself
No rainbows to arch over me
Lack of godmothers who turn up
When we want to please a man
To show who we 'really are'
And paint that picture
We dreamt about as children
I am hurting, I have no energy
To paint, to draw, to wait
To dream, to please
I chose me, I have no story
And I hope I disappoint the ideals
That were pathed for many before me
I'll make noise, I'll defy those fictions
That is not me, shan't be me
I chose to be a sparkler
No tiara.
If miracles were made in the Sun
I would come and see you before the day is done
I would whisper good news in your ears
And touch the passion that has been sleeping for years
And drive out the monstrous fear
Wake up to the peace around you
for summer is smiling within you
Go shopping for your summer wear
And live the life that you always fear
Go partying on the beach, and bring
The carnival back on the street
And wear something nice above your knee
For you are going to make noise in
The street for the entire day
until the stress goes away
You will carnival in state, city, village and municipality
Until you drive the demons out of the town
Give everyone an hand Kerchief to wave and make some
Noise in the place; eat drink and be merry
According to the biblical prophecy
, you can hold the world in the palm of your hand
And the heavens will make you strong
Nature will tell you what to do for life is bigger than you
Sound the alarm in every town and dance till the mountains
Come down, and when your hearts are free you
You will slip away from the crowd and walk
With me in silence by the sea ,and gaze at your destiny.
In a great, entangled forest, stands a metal monster—
An impossibility of nature, made by man. Alone;
Broken—it looms over all things natural
And asserts its right over the creatures that belong.
They do not look to him (this fake, metal being) —
It cannot even breathe or make noise!
Apart from the gears whirring in its machine form.
It is hated and unwanted. Even by its creators,
It has been abandoned. Now, it will never be found,
And it will be left for time to deal with; until it is
Creaking and groaning and falling apart with rust.
One day, soon, the grass will grow so thick and wild
That it will wrap its spindly fingers around the beast's leg
And grip it tight. The weeds will never let go—
The metal monster will never move again.
The whole of the forest soon will envelop the machine
Until there is nothing left to be seen of it. Until it is
Destroyed, like it was never there. Gone:
Prey to the unknown and the forces of nature.
One day Orkie was on a hunt for clams
On the bottom on the ocean sand
He would dive way down
And have a look all around
It became a game
For which he had no name
But he did have fun
Until he got tired and was done
Another day, Orkie said to mom, come and see
What can this creature be
They stand on a boat and look at me
Whatever can they be
They are called the human race
Don't they have a funny face
Once they used to hunt us on the sea
But now they just let us be
They come on a thing called a boat
All it does is make noise and float
They drop out their nets
To see how many fish they can get
Silence is the best answer.
Not out of weakness, but out of wisdom.
When chaos roars and seeks a voice to wrestle,
Choose silence.
When fools gather to trade in folly,
Choose silence.
When conflict rises, desperate to be fed by your tongue,
Starve it with silence.
Silence is not emptiness,
It is fullness restrained.
It is not ignorance,
It is intelligence under control.
The loudest man in the room proves nothing,
But the silent man he preserves everything.
He preserves his dignity,
His peace,
His power.
Speak not to prove you are right,
Be silent and let time reveal it.
Argue not to win a crowd,
Be silent and let your character defend you.
In humanity, silence is a sacred discipline.
It teaches you to listen when others only wait to speak,
To observe when others only react,
To heal when others only wound with words.
And when success finally crowns you,
When your hands hold what your heart prayed for,
Remain silent still.
Let not your mouth make noise of your glory,
Let your success make the noise.
Let your results thunder,
Let your life preach.
For the world does not need more noise,
It needs more depth.
And depth, my child, is always silent.
Silence is the best answer.