Long Manually Poems
Long Manually Poems. Below are the most popular long Manually by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manually poems by poem length and keyword.
Through pristine glass observed
autumnal leaves a scatter
the litter of the season
to dishevel and clutter up the garden
Sweep the crumbs away
lay polish to the smudged and smear
for glinting tiles speak ever more clear
to build the walls security
Settle leaf it’s time is spent
amid the moss is it’s fading feeding decay
in vibrant earth again some day
will know the kiss of sun out breathing sent
So by chromium faucet quench the thirst
in bottled plastic catch each drop
and flitter dust from out the corners dirt
bacterial inch upon the forests advance
And this filthy earth stains the finger nail
showers of rain bring their unwelcome rotting smell
then by chemical impostors of a flowers perfume
seek to cleans the air in a solitary room
Such isolation proves it’s security
neat clean and tidily scrubbed
hold fast the separation of technical morality
these things devoid of insect footprints
Lay soap to order the odor of sweat
yet beg the bloom for it’s delightful scent
to cut it’s throat upon a table set
the vase the only carefully treasured object
Hanker, oh hanker for the green living pasture
all the verdant aspirations of life in nature
tingle for the worth still caught in the veins
but choking on the wish of concrete remains
Through pristine glass observe the vegetation
the autumnal leaves flutter from the trees desertion
the trigger of another season
comes to rot and disarrange the perfect garden
Such fear prefers isolation and security
would rather heed the babblings of a technological morality
aspire then beyond the dumbwaiter of nature
a vase polished of any smudge or smear
Better to be in a clinical retreat
and by habit accept what is so clearly of need
take this germ free vacation
the trees are happy in their branches for the leaves desertion
Dumbwaiter
a small elevator, manually or electrically operated, consisting typically of a box with shelves, used in apartment houses, restaurants, and large private dwellings for moving dishes, food, garbage, etc., between floors. The term “A dumbwaiter” typically implies an unseen or unconsidered workforce below, this anonymous workforce deals with the contents of the dumbwaiter, kitchen staff, garbage collectors and laundry staff
one night i dreamt i was surfing in cyberspace &
many images flickered in Adobe Flash
with every movement made, every keystroke &
slide of the mouse to & fro,
i hadn’t a clue (in real time), but i knew
that there were centillions of digital footsteps
being made with every moment
leaving their print upon the world within the screen
(still outside my own physical self)---
while my own history could partially be brought up
manually on my PC, i knew that
every phone call, every movie watched & every second
spent on the web,
had been recorded somewhere,
being held for an indeterminate amount of time &
unlike those nutjobs who say they had a
“near death experience” &
their lives flashed before their eyes,
i myself was fairly certain that
i would never come in complete contact with
this shadow of online presence.
this, however, did not bother me,
because whether my life was dragging down deep in
the gutter or
flying up in the air by the seat of its pants,
i was grounded in the cooling light of backlit LED pixels,
which would be with me until my dying day
(or until i became one with them in the future).
and there was no conversation with my PC,
because it was not a capable artificial intelligence
(as of yet) & therefore it had to abide my own human
error
(alas, PC, i pity thee) &
unlike the fictional “lord” of those religious idiots out there
walking in the sand,
it did not “speak to me” when i was down on my knees
squinting to myself with hands clasped
(um, for i wasn’t),
conversating inside my own head
hoping for answers to questions
to magically arise from my own fragmented,
severely delusional &
quite obviously
bat*****
mad
psyche.
no, there was no made up excuse
for which this human had to look to
in order to alleviate responsibility for those things
that are the most absolutely horrible
which all of us humans have done to each other,
the world around us &
to ourselves,
but rather
only quality time spent
between myself & my computer,
which had evolved from a less impressive model to its
current state,
but which would be outdated in a few years &
get scrapped for a better one,
until its own superiority
surpassed my own &
i needed to become one with it---
then, there would be no
digital footprints at all,
for they’d all be
within.
Sometimes I think
My computer is plotting against me
And only me!
Trying deliberately to drive me mad.
My computer knows
When I am busy,
Then it throws a hissy fit.
Constantly Crashing
It often refuses to boot up,
And crashes constantly.
It loses data it had the day before.
Or five minutes before.
Or refuses to save the data.
Just messing with me.
As it loves toying with me
Making me yell and scream
On my computer screen.
Can’t Open Files
Often when trying to open
A document in Word,
The Word open file button
Fails to respond
Sometimes you have to wait
Five minutes for it to respond.
Or when trying to open a file
The computer opens a random file
Instead.
Or when trying to open a document
It kicks you out
Often several times
Random Blue Screen of Death
Cursing up a blue stream of blue curses
As the blue screen of death
Marches across the dark blue screen
Smiling at me.
Years ago my computer
converted everything
to the number 6 endlessly scrolling
down the blue screen of death.
Endless Non-Response Spinning blue wheels
Copy and Paste Wiping out document text
Or when doing a simple copy-and-paste function
The computer defaults to the last command
Making you have to do it again and again
Up to five times sometimes
And on a random basis
The copy and paste function
Wipes out all data
In the document
And to add insult to injury
Deletes all previously saved version
Sending the data
Into computer limbo land
Never to be found again
All without warning
Just zip it's gone!
Frozen Num Lock
Another thing
My computer loves doing
Is on a random basis,
Turn the numbs lock on
Without warning
Turning text into numbers.
Requiring you to manually
Turn off the number lock.
Defaulting to Foreign Languages
A very annoying feature
Is that when you log in from overseas
Everything defaults to a foreign language
Usually without the ability to change
It back to English
Mission Accomplished
And all the other gobbledygook messages
That pops up every five minutes, it seems
As the computer slowly drives me mad.
Flashing the final insult
User-driven mad
Mission accomplished.
Forest Sun
Laid out to pasture the company doesn’t want us
We got our severance pay then thanked them
Like they thanked us the day they made us sign
We belonged to them then we were slaves
Made to work in the forest cutting down trees
Or in lead mines manually extracting the ore
Many died for it was lethal work out in the sticks
The dead were replaced by new forced workers
One in one out from the endless supply of bodies
As bodies many left unless they had longevity
Being able to endure and do that for decades
Till they were purloined off with severance pay
The end of a hard unique journey taken by them
How many made it to the end point do they know?
There were more dead than alive in the death factory
Of course they knew it was all documented
They lived and died by numbers for it was a system
Made by humans turning them all into slaves
In dusty files in archives their names will be recorded
The moment they became numbers in the system
Just as I was taken off our family farm by soldiers
Only a little older than myself and put into service
I never saw my parents or sister ever again
Some were made into soldiers other workers
Who decided this somebody who was near and far
I was forced to mine lead but I wasn’t so strong
They put me in the forests cutting down trees
I was there most of my time with them working
It was just like the farm and I secretly loved it
I even met my forest wife and we had three kids
They were schooled into the system by them
And eventually became wood cutters too
So my lot wasn’t too bad for me was it?
I was secretly paid off when I was too old to cut
I still lived in my small wooden hut within their land
They owned all the forest and steppes all of it
I didn’t want to escape for this was my home
Even if it was my prison all this time
I had no bars or barbed wire or faced guns or dogs
Thousands of miles of nothing surrounded us
If a man escaped where would he go the Moon?
I was the lucky one and gave my wife my final pay
Then I finally sat down to watch the trees and sun
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spinning on high speed mostly out of control
the washing machine failed to conclude any
of its operation according to a wished for manual
given at birth he had not much choice in the matter
due to the lottery of inheritance he missed the bonus prize
surely his emotional mind had often given way to reason
but logic hardly ever stopped the autopilot in his mind
and with the off button defective it guzzled energy
which his thinking muzzled confused inconclusive repetitive
not so much a merry go round but rather a scary rollercoaster
plunging from great heights into nowhere in particular
but with nauseous combustion and vertigo squared to infinity
stop he pleaded and begged for a power cut or the bailiff
to disconnect him from such uncomfortable corrosion
because he himself just could not find the trip fuse
was never able to cut some wires nor change charge or course
inevitable depression provided only temporary reprieve
and alcohol simply increased the ugly voices after a blackout
how he wished to wash his thoughts manually with a bar of soap
but even then procrastination took over and merely smudged the stains
it bordered on incurable insanity but by then he had well crossed any frontier
and to emigrate from his own self required a valid visa for healing
when he did not even know where his expired passport lived a new life
in the past he had paid for expensive medicines kind therapists and doctors
which numbed him for a while or simply passed some time with empathy
yet there was no cure insight no major insight and still misfiring synapses
he joked sometimes that he had seriously considered a frontal lobotomy
but the idea of a sharp instrument passing through his eye socket did not appeal
suicidal ideation changed into self-pity and the machine kept spinning in vain
when he discovered ego-cide and acceptance of suffering karma and gratitude
his life changed dramatically as the cyclones rotated into more conventional drift
eventually he realized he would have been much worse off with a cement mixer
because then the pebbles in the cauldron would surely have shattered his scull
27th August 2024
Thunder and lightning ruled the black night
As the frightened young mother struggled
Beads of sweat ran down her pretty face
The old midwife calmly sponged off sweat
She hummed a lullaby to soothe her pain
Praying that the husband would be back soon
Five miles to travel in treacherous weather
Seeking the one doctor for hundreds of miles
Twelve hours of labor now seemed like days.
Fell trees and shaved off roof tops, toppled by whipping winds
Rising rivers were swollen, and flooded make shift roads
Endless rain poured like there would be no end
Meanwhile her unborn child lay bridged as it battled for release
Suddenly the door burst open and the doctor rushed in
His clothes sticking to his skin; there was no time to change
With his palm he felt her forehead asking pertinent questions
He and the old midwife tried manually to turn the exhausted child
At each attempt, mother’s painful cry was heard in the distance
She gave one guttural scream and usherd her baby into the world
The child, born limp, barely breathing as the mid wife took her away
He starred into her eyes, and knew that she was beyond his help
He brought the new born to lie in her mother’s warm arms
The silence was noticeable; the raging storm had passed
The sound of light rain, now a comfort, gently tapped upon tin roof
In a soft, weak voice she called her husband and managed a smile
Then she blessed her child with words from a mother’s heart
“May you be a light, swift as lightning when days grow dark.”
“May you have wisdom and foresight beyond your days”
“May your heart nurture and remain open to love”
“Like rain, may you bring life to all “
“Born this stormy night, your name will be “Rain”.
~*~
By : Audrey Carey
Note: Imagination at work:) Written for Constance's "Rain, The Story" Contest.
My imagination took me to some little village in Africa. This scene is played out in
many villages where health care is non-existent. However, there's always, thanks
to God, a wise, caring "midwife" to help mothers during delivery.
Everyday, countless miracles are performed by God through "midwives"!
About Twenty Two Score Years Ago...
One “FAKE” rumor purports April Fools’ Day
accepted with hostile abandonment
according to Giggle ling search result
conducted by this gent
adopted when France switched
rather than fight abolishment
transitioning from Julian calendar
to Gregorian calendar,
(yet maintaining same gender reassignment)
called for by the Council of Trent
Lot affecting chronological abridgement
forthrightly, immediately, and
magically decreeing making
with flourish of inkhorn - prestidigitation
"poof" quite few months absent
necessitating rejiggering
displaced vanished days forcing
latter time keeping paradigm absorbent,
asper sands of time no matter such
figurative tectonic shift population
aghast at August accomplishment
and probably did March in protest,
cuz entire season,
sans couture accouterment
suddenly rendered obsolete and unfashionable
manually crafted, swiftly tailored, and
harry styled clothes no mean achievement,
and uninformed folks got hashtagged
kindled, and named plenti admonishment
visited on their person such as
bumsteads, dolts, fools, et cetera
howling guffaws when derriere adornment
slapped with "kick me steady bum,"
or stuck with tail like appurtenances
eventually this "FAKE" – advancement
ha ha April fools historical joke
became embedded tradition inn advertent
lee established meshugas, where Jews
and especially gentiles went meshugoyim
generating cottage (cheesy) gum mint industry,
and brisk business for nascent advertisement
industry, (albeit handily horse drawn
attention grabbing kiln fired tablets)
mainly for (Philly buzzfeed string) affluent,
who secured lifelong gentlemen's agreement
with artisan, and of apprenticed trumpeting sons
(after tithe thing allotment) earnings
portion squirrelled away for rainy
May Day festivities ambient
brouhaha babushka's celebrating divine comedy
21st century poet tindered mild amusement
regarding this "FAKE" flight of fancy!
In April of '57 the US got quite the shock
The Soviets launched Sputnik
The space satellite rock
We fell behind in the race from that very day,
That is, until we elected a President named
J F K...
Only three months into his term
1961, April, back then
Yuri Gagarin orbited Earth
Those Russians were at it again
JFK circled the wagons with the White House clan
Told 'em ~ America's got to win this race in the end...
Alan Shephard went up in the month of May
But as fast as he shot up, just that fast he came down
Compared to Gagarin, he was a monkey, a clown
Strapped tight to a board--rigid, upright
He did nothing but endure the vertical flight
~Unlike Gagarin, who manually controlled
his takeoff and landing, the ultimate goal
Then Grissom went up in the month of July
He seemed to fly nicely and pretty high
But at the end of the day
His near-disastrous landing
Clearly was NOT 'A-OK."
And by February '62
When Glenn orbited the Earth
Those Soviets led us by quite a wide berth.
Kennedy grimaced, fuming inside
He reckoned it was time for us to take pride
in our space program, to date a big bust
~ In the race 'gainst the Soviets, a win was a must
So he gathered his courage and adjusted his vision
Set out for Rice University, appeared on television
Challenging us, coaxing us, squeezing us, urging us
with this daring question--
so the Soviets wouldn't be 'purging' us:
Some people ask, 'Why?'
To them I reply
with all that I've got
~ Why not?
Then he set this agenda for NASA,
America's fledgling space agency:
Put a man on the moon before 1970!
~ JFK's proudest legacy
Postscript: On July 20, 1969, American astronaut Neil Armstrong,
took man's first step on the lunar surface
~"One small for man; one giant leap for mankind."
To steal; to kill; to destroy ; three deathly traits of ‘the evil one’.
Nothing to negotiate or discuss; no bomb threats and timelines.
The stages and steps to total annihilation had begun, bathed in hate.
The evil plot was so manipulative that some of its players were uninformed.
There was the element of surprise and the execution of the unthinkable.
I have a hope that ‘Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!
We desperately wanted to believe that mortals are inwardly paved with goodness
Our hopes took wings with the fall of The Iron Curtain; but that was short lived.
We insist that given the right spark, mankind will explode into showers of love flames.
However, human history is replete with inhuman conflagrations of massive madness.
The quest for freedom is a God infused desire, but forever at war with ruthless haters.
I have a hope that “Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!!
It too was a day of infamy causing endless shock and awe around the world
Only an evil person or institution would inflict so much pain on the innocent.
Evil seeds of fear and brainwashing cause mortals to unleash damnable devastation
Strange weapons of war with guided missiles; not remotely, but manually controlled.
Were our heads in the sand, denying that ‘evil’ has no concept of togetherness and unity?
I have a hope that “Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!!!
Never again was America and the rest of the world to be the same
Will mankind ever unite in brotherhood and stop inflicting so much pain?
Will tomorrow’s evils that loom ahead make yesterday's evils seem tame?
Today’s kings, rulers, and leaders must ‘make the call’ that this is not a game.
Only this and God’s mercy can prevent the repeat of using jumbo planes as missiles.
I have a hope that “Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!!!!
07052016 PS Contest, Evil Is Everywhere by Brian Davey
The Almighty has created me an angel.
The mindlessness in me has changed me a devil.
When I have a beautifully sensitive nose,
Why am I unable to smell a fragrant rose?
My sense of taste has been, preciously marvelous.
I have marvelously turned it highly tasteless.
How my sober, secure, sure sense of soulful sight,
Has turned into dull, dark, dim, dreary deadly light?
My hearing sense seems sound, and sensitively sharp,
Why am I not able to hear my own sharp harp?
Though thousands fall on me like heavy human rocks,
I don't feel their touch or even the rocking knocks.
My mind has, alas, gone very far-far from me,
It has gone beyond control like a drunken monkey.
If I could mindfully sit the morning moment
Meditating the beauty of God's covenant...
If I could eat my food savoring every taste,
Tasting and relishing and knowing every waste...
If I could watch the birds and hear the flowers bloom,
And be one with hard-working honey bees and plume...
If I calm my mind and completely concentrate,
Relaxing and light like saints within levitate...
If I owing my compassion fraternal love,
Make someone feel the compassion of God above...
If I am an innocent immaculate child,
And thus my soul always in purity abide...
If I could feel the feeling when I plant a tree,
The true feeling-full feeling of planting me...
If I could create things than merely copying,
Partake in God's continued act of creating...
If I could manually work hard and sweat well,
Keep healthy and hearty my every little cell...
It's then the mindfulness will make its home in me,
And in that home, God of love will abide with me.
12 June 2021
MINDFULNESS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker