Long Millipede Poems
Long Millipede Poems. Below are the most popular long Millipede by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Millipede poems by poem length and keyword.
SOLITUDE A LOVE KNOT
Rushing millipede of rain down my window pane
sadness drifts, glided uninvited ounce reef.
Unruffled even from billowing strain,
solitude steals unnoticed like a thief.
Tiptoeing feet over my naked crippling fear.
Verbiage expressed in trying train distraught.
I... yearning a life of dearest love cheer
let it be from solitude, it will sprout lots.
Loneliness prism echoes songs of sparrows.
Nectared bullet actions, a long tender sought.
Brushing my frozen hind with hues of rainbow.
In solitude, knowing thyself a love knot.
Healing ancient wrongs buried deep marrow.
Transfixed by time, dot by dot by dot...
(c)Olive ELoisa
5:09am
August 09, 2014
POETRY TYPE: RONDEL
If I were a millipede
- / Flip-Flops
The only thing I wanted was slippers
- / Flip-Flops
Five hundred pairs - you might think it's a lot
- / Flip-Flops
The best "doctor" for my tiny little feet
- / Flip-Flops
Let it be my greatest happiness
- / Flip-Flops
On the beach with lovely bathing water
- / Flip-Flops
Sun through my purple sunshine hat
- / Flip-Flops
I prefer the sweet taste of ice cream
- / Flip-Flops
Satisfaction prevents envy, soul or not -
It would be a floating summer symphony
filled with grains of sand, salt, sun
and a lot of Flip-Flops
24.08.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Soul Slipper Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
4th place in the contest
Millie millipede needed some new shoes
for her summer holiday fun Disney cruise
Her old shoes were tight making Millie hop
so she went with mommy to the shoe shop
Millie hobbled through the door and began to wail
the poor shop assistant’s face turned quite pale
because Millie millipede had got forty tiny feet
so she sat Millie down on a comfortable seat
The shop assistant summoned a little elf
to fetch some shoe boxes from a high shelf
and when Millie tried some shiny red boots
she said, "These are wonderful substitutes"
The boots were leather and had a thick heel
for walking round Disneyland they’d be ideal
With so many feet Millie needed twenty pairs
so the elf assistant dashed up and down stairs
Mom was given a discount when the bill was paid
so they stopped at a café for sweet lemonade
Millie wore her shiny boots all the way home
stopping off to show them to her pal Ted gnome.
Nursery Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
03/12/21
The first train, a smoke puffing monster, ran in India,
Moving like a millipede, cautious, yet, no phobia;
As though well-chosen astronauts, lucky four guests traveled,
In cozy, cool, curtained compartments cautiously castled...
Soon, trains - thought of as luxury, prestige, status, and style -
Turned to be thrift trips that take travelers so long a mile,
A beggar could move in it singing, dancing, and begging;
Clowns, jugglers, and vendors easily could make their living...
The Indian trains and rails have long-lasting histories,
Mass accidents, like puzzles, have remained great mysteries;
Derailments, like earthquakes, shake and take the trivial tracks,
Direct collisions, like wild-bore hits, tricked by timely cracks...
Dangers, unintended, like calamities, die away,
Traumas of accidents, into normalcy, bloom someday;
Intentional human errors do corrode moral sense,
Like Abel, they knock the closed castles of human conscience...
A great train-trauma the times of nation never forgets,
Like horrible nightmares, innocent hearts got terrorized;
Is the partition-time human life slaughter, like cattle,
Sending them in blood pools by trains, like dead in the battle...
Then the religious bitterness in the form of riot,
Murdering, blazing - young, old, women and children - quiet;
Singing, dancing - like the god of death - around dead bodies,
Joyous, on the death of humanity, like dry poppies…
Common human beings here, like animals, do not care,
Many trains - as late as twelve hours, daily - all through the year;
Deaths and murders - like sunrise and set - if trains often bear,
Doesn't the goal of the invention of trains seem sheer sneer?
13 October 2021
Railroads, A Historical Glance Back Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
Look! Can you see? Out of the window?
Snowflakes are falling, white blankets are forming.
Patience, little one,
Soon it will be quilted and quiet.
Not far away, three small mammals are doing their sleeping:
The dormouse, pipistrel and the solitary hedgehog -
Mystical prickled pig of the hedgerow.
Ssh, she's away with the fairies.
Snug in her nest, may her slumbers be blessed.
One in a million,
She's a spherical urchin
Curled tight on a cushion of twigs.
Hedgehog is dreaming, snuffling,
To chobble on tanklements of millipede and earwig.
No, no, no!
No mediaeval harbinger of doom -
She's a bristly broom,
Self-anointed by toad skin and poo,
She brushes in spring anew.
And in the half-lit, moonlit summers,
Her little donnies will write spells -
Not ‘ills’, with her quills,
As trails of silvered cursive script
In the glistening ink of snails -
Near nanny’s pots and pails on the patio.
Later, little one,
Her thorny needles will stitch cobwebs of autumn
Between the railings on the hill,
Knitting together a tapestry of seasons.
Shapeshifting.
Bewitching.
An ornamental doe and fawn,
suddenly move. Tails wave, noses nuzzle –
I have mistaken an actuality,
and now am thrown out of my skin.
I’m a millipede of fractal awareness.
I sniff the body-odor of the planet
take inward, then sift out
Australia and Africa.
I pause to dip my face in the River Liffey,
odoriferous waters foam over septum and cranium.
I’m a teaming acre of feelers and heads. Until
an atom of disbelief re-enters its exoskeleton.
The next moment is inevitable;
it is a concrete bunker of inevitability.
I am a stone goblin with a blunt chisel.
Nerve buds are again Saran wrapped.
Oddly, I’m carrying a large red kangaroo
on my shoulders;
it’s demanding to be sent back,
and I would send it back – if I knew how.
Hey,Miss cute little jumping spider;
you are a skilled under leaf hider.
Wow!The crown like eight tiny eyes!
or you the princess in disguise?
Hello, Mr. Handsome Hawk moth caterpillar;
the color spots on your body glitter.
Aww, you look like a snake, with big pseudo eyes,
Tell me, when are you gonna fly?
Oh, the shiny cyanide millipede,
How do you manage to walk,
with these many golden legs?
Why are you so shy, now don't get coiled.
Hey,the smiling soft snail;
Why do you look so pale?
Can't bare your mobile home?
Come take rest, don't roam
I still wonder,
Why do they hate you? It's not fair
It's their blunder
You just don't care.
April-30-2018
The Soul!
Enveloped in flames of a burning Heart
suppressed by the strong will of the mind
and silenced by the dynamism of the body's actions.
The Soul!
Morbid with many soft spots.
It's creation comes forth with undetected weakness
and even during its loudest outcry
it is almost always never heard.
How then!
can we establish the much needed connection?
Even if it means stitching our nature to its wants
and treating it beyond just a mere cosmic wave
Establishing the connection,
may seem like counting all the legs
of a millipede while in motion
Or observing just one drop,
from an outpour of heavy rain.
but it's possible to take that step closer,
by so doing, only in Poetry.
cos its the Soul Talker.
Poetry enters the deepest pits
and travels the longest distances.
It brings out reality even from the abstract
and a Fulcrum of Music.
It bears the weight of every Nation
and can connect all physical forces.
A stronghold to Life, like one of Nature's elements
and exciting to all, both young and Old.
A preserver of tradition
and a major component of History
A sound mind speaks wisdom
and a clean Heart expresses exemplary virtues
but when the soul speaks
poetry is manifested
How weird is having no sounds
from a clinging pair of Cymbals
and no melody from a gently played Violin
so also is like the Soul without Poetry.
For the love of poetry Contest
sponsored by John lawless
Still clinging onto the hangover of colonialism
with mental independence weighed to a pathetic size of almost zero.
You are a beautiful woman, yet low esteemed like a barbaric savage.
You are contented with pain because of the availability of opiods.
You constantly shuttle in this nonsense
with the thought you are caressed by time.
Greed and a constant tussle of power and selfishness drag you behind
with foundation-less systems where corruption is the institution.
Civilization seem to marry your ideology by accident
dragging the feet of developments to the point it becomes stranded.
An entire region not in a good shape,
so timid and flawed indicated by its unspoken glances
degraded so low that an ordinary monkey intimidates an elephant
having the substance but lacking the direction
like an affluent clueless man when alive
but dead and buried within his possessions.
Despite the persistent surge of prosperity both from the west and the east
you take a small step in decades with the belief
that such laxity is just a naughty spot.
You may be moving, but much slower than a dying millipede.