Long Match Poems
Long Match Poems. Below are the most popular long Match by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Match poems by poem length and keyword.
Enter the fest with easy gaze,
Cheer echoes well in poignant trace;
Hear from the best who sync with craze,
Opt to dare dwell with fun in place;
Embrace the light that shows the way,
Sense surreal moves as feelings show.
Glimpse precious sights in light of day,
Live sketchy grooves in sensuous flow;
Imprint marks clear the pulse of change,
Meet and match wits with thoughts worthwhile;
Plant fleeting cheer and prize joy's range,
Set the path fit where love now styles;
Effort funds gain in gradual means,
Sip not in vain calm zest that wins.
Leon Enriquez
20 February 2017
Singapore
It might stress me a little, but not much, to speak of these;
But not bother me near as badly as a nest of stinging bees.
But I hasten to say that the need to share them with you is a must.
And I must say that I am much pleased that I did not wait until their rust.
In my mid-teens, I built a small business with neighbors by mowing lawns.
On the farm, my business was better than hard, long hours under the sun.
The most accounts I had were three customers, and one was a family doctor.
Each of them created a lasting memory that has served me well, enabling me
to discern and understand people. Some people are strong and able, kind and compassionate; many are socially weak and feeble, as well as indifferent and spiritually disabled; some other mortals are loving and seem to be overwhelmingly determined to convince one that 'he belongs'. Such were the three character make-ups of my clientele.
The doctor was able, compassionate, and strong. The teacher was partial, pretentious, and secretive of her true self. And the retired couple were most kind, hospitable, compassionate, and loving. This couple struck a lasting and unforgettable match in my soul. The torch of their character forever burns.
No, I was not in search of certain characters and views of people.
However, while a teen, I met and discerned a variant make-up of people; and I am grateful that my life has intertwined with the best of all three types.
083121PS
Oh what a thrill
sliding downhill
an icy peak
then go back up
for a repeat
just for the fun
of it!
Beat my brother
at a wrestling match
then cuddle up
for mother’s milk
buttery fat
sweet.
It’s spring!
Mom is hunting
seals for meals
patiently waiting
by the hole
ring
till a head pops up
to breathe
then down goes mom
with lightning speed
to snatch it up
for a banquet meal.
Summer is hot
under Hudson Bay
sky
ice like a baby
cries!
Then starts
our long
miles long hike
leaving beyond
what was ice
now a liquid sky
of sparkling stars.
Food will be scarce inland
and scarcer yet
with summers getting longer
and ice seasons shorter.
I learned mom’s lessons well
to approach the prey
downwind undetected
but it's sad
there won’t be enough
for us bears to share
and some will be left
inland
among the dead.
Think of our habitat
when a stuffed bear
you hug to your heart
because that’s all
you may have left
if for nature
you have no respect.
Unwelcome visitor lands in field
Farmer goes out to investigate
Our hero wonders what he will see
Upward he looks into the night sky
Fast approaching ships are all around
Over and under all the lights dance
Unfortunately he's on his own
Friend or foe he did not really know
One man feeling he is without hope
Undulating wheat covers the ground
Fire is the answer that he seeks
One tiny match sets the field aflame
Up and away the saucers all fly
Fleeing from the blaze that he had set
Our hero looks up and waves goodbye
Project U.F.O.
I used U.F.O. for each stanza and wrote about U.F.O.s for good measure.
For form I chose I do not Know, I thought it would be good to choose Unidentified
Form Of Poetry otherwise known as U.F.O.P
Form:
It’s your birthday? Forget the cake and cheers.
Let’s slice up a piece of life and dive into the tease.
No fancy decor can match the warmth we bring,
Just us, sharing secrets like agents in a fling.
In a world of chaos, everything blurs outside,
Oh, how I would rant through my rage on a long, tiring night.
Pouring out struggles, sharing troubles and delight,
You listen, filling my heart with warmth and ease, my guide.
Yet in our childhood, those sun-soaked, endless days,
We chased each other like fireflies, lost in playful ways.
I can't imagine us as adults, so far from that sense,
For the mini-version of ourselves lingers in my brain.
The special bond we share, I know, others must see.
Sisters often bicker, but we let it be.
While they fight and criticize, we just go with the flow.
Who needs a party when we can roam the aisles,
Pretending to be food critics, savoring snacks with smiles.
The guiles of spiders are designed to fetch
Life-support prey seldom of an own kind.
If wild cats hunt, it’s only food to find--
What ye call beasts, in heart hate never hatch,
Nor in hostility the hunted catch
And only kill to fill a hungry maw
In a highly held un-writ wildlife law:
Slay to survive or get slain if no match,
Knowing not else but do just as designed,
Unlike O men hunting’s thy pass-time game,
A trophy wall-mounted in flashy frame,
Purblind, heedless, ye alone hunt own kind
Thus, crowning thee as lord of death in shame
Ye write a tale of thy blood-be-soaked name.
______________________________
Musings | 08.11.2012/revised July 2026 | beast, kill, joy, men, wild, Sonnet
Note: And I am tempted to add two more sonnet endings:
To call it sport that goes to fetch thy end
In slaying lives on whom thine own depend.
Till one day Earth twirls inverted thy claim,
And he who thought him hunter turneth game.
On life's easyrider days and nights
love plays a romping game.
On those more oppositionally challenging days,
and long anxious nights,
love is a hunt,
sometimes a passionate hunt,
special occasionally a compassionate hunt,
a mutual hunt
for truth about who is hunter
and who is hunted
and why
and when
and how do these co-arising functions transcend "or"
to gracefully meet in "and."
This primal function of love's synergetic force
hunts
like gravity.
Both parties,
all living entities,
hunt,
gravitate,
even those feeling hunted
haunted
stalked
fearful and anxious
competitively and unilaterally,
often in silos threatening despair.
We all search frantically for safe havens,
hidden from those hunting for our very self-identity,
our life,
or at least so it feels during those dissonant times.
What is a redemptive optimization strategy
for those hunting safe havens from death,
pursued by tyrannical lovers,
ego-identified life-sucking hunters?
When is it not an appropriate moment
to love the hunter,
the hunted,
and the hunt?
Is there a significant difference
between the romping love of fluid smooth days and nights
and the more strategic
logistical
personal
intimately co-prehensile
hunt for love transcending Ego-incarnate death?
Too seldom haunted hunted entities,
primally assuming cooperative investment
in our challenging rampant race
and pace of EarthTribal systems,
when a passionate challenge exhausts our smooth-skinned body,
and/or brain,
the hunted redemptively turn toward other hunters,
gratefully and mindfully inviting a wrestling-with match,
setting aside a wrestling-against death and fear match,
comprehending that compassioning our hunting love
always optimizes EarthTribe's regenerational future.
In love,
sometimes,
at least once,
it is my time to love loss,
to forgive away space and or time,
to redeem future spacetime
equivalently invested in me
birthing my original praxis of conception
as mutual reception--
eco-harmonic redemption.
With a fist full of daggers it descends upon its prey
Dropping like a meteor without the light of day
But no rocky harbinger, this bearer of last light
It's gift eternal night borne on the softest wing of flight
Envy, and wonder, consume the pondering breast
Was it oversight or blunder that left us so unblest
Since the point where first we leapt, we long have sought the wing
Yet clumsy sad contrivance is all that we can bring
'sif chitin brought to shiny curve, could match the kite its wing
Still our eyes reach skyward, as if prince had been king
Our reach forever past our grasp… we're left to pine and sing
Oh we can bring the night to those we deem worthy of rest
But soaring on the breath of life is not how we've been blest
But rest assured in this one thing we share with those of wing
Squawk, or screetch, or melody, we too, can laugh and sing
Breathe deep as though it be your last, and fill your soul with song
Then let fly with the breath of life… sing loudly, if not long
They spoke bold and brass
Each looking to dominate
there respective segments
And respective time allowances
They knew the outcome
If one were to lose in this sanctioned
Bout where the stability of the night
Would either be challenged
A series of loser leave town matches
Would have seven fans awarded a room and
Two meals at the courtsey of the loser.
Two men enter a contest in seven different
Towns. Each man makes arrangements
For a room and dinner and breakfast
The signed match is then scheduled
A radio station or group of ( radio stations)
Conduct a fair and honest raffle.
The winner gets the losers room
And two meals paid by the loser of
The best of seven series .
"A Loser Leaves Town Match" one that
Will put the winner of the series as number
One contender. Look to your favorite radio and tv stations for details in all metropolitan regions.!
This is one for the record books. Collab Productions presents....... A Loser Leaves Town Match coming
To your area!
*********** The Series Is only to bring to ahead the Grudge-Match between the two combatants: during the Series the Loser must lleave town while the victor celebrates and the already booked room is gifted to the contest winner>>>>the at hele is still under contract and will again forfill his contractaul duties unpon completion of the Series**********
Tagboard Wrestling Reporter
Filed this day
In the Wrestling World
Find drawings here
In comic art;
Fine lines speak clear
As etchings start.
Sketches now pose
To tell a tale;
Art in fine dose
As plot avails.
Comics can be
A source of ease;
Tension you see
Can play and tease.
Good versus bad
In clash and fight;
Feelings now pad
What's wrong or right.
Seduce the mind
With evil spice;
Watch good you find
Turn not so nice.
Read the story
And smell the plot;
Things turn sorry
In awful lot.
Thought illustrates
What pictures cast;
In abrupt state,
Watch who outlasts!
Ideas of poise
In picture sketch;
Comics now voice
Sheer art to match.
Leon Enriquez
28 April 2017
Singapore