Long Motion picture Poems
Long Motion picture Poems. Below are the most popular long Motion picture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Motion picture poems by poem length and keyword.
like vinegar and baking soda combined
daily hustle bustle and grind — in caustic silence —
erodes...
precious time eroded in the rush to clear agendas
rushing to the rhythm of the— tick— tockin’ of time...
engulfed with the toils and responsibilities of life
it all seemingly moving in slow motion...
'til suddenly it becomes sublime
to realize just how much time— has passed
now seemingly moving much too fast...
like motion picture film spinning on a reel
as this arduous journey reaches a place of still...
still quiet —volume so loud —you can hear it scream
with flashes of the past rewinding inside your mind...
revealing —in that slippage of time— often
it was thou— you left behind...
quiet screams —
time to exhale....accept or receive
what has been lost or achieved...
shhhh — listen!— the time is now yours
time to lay to rest — hustle bustle and grind—
time — to relax your mind....
and enjoy —your way—what’s yours...
God’s greatest gift—
time......
***Inspired by the feelings many retirees and empty
nesters experience...
at the entrance to the drive-in church the road divides deceptively
the sign signals divisive directions but mediates midway at midnight
Saviour salvation spirit Satan superstition sacrilege
God giving guidance gluttony greed gyrations
resurrection rejuvenation revelations agnostics atheism antitheses
righteousness roadside assistance available ‘enter at your own peril’
prayers pious power soda pop popcorn psychedelics putrid paranoia
temple tables terra-firma trivia temptation tribulations
selfless sacred sustenance slivering snake salivating
the slow-motion picture posits poignant perusal but it’s a silent movie
apart from back seats groaning settling for sex sperm and splits sheaths
scripted sanguine suggestions sighs salubrious screams
sanctimony shelter serenity suffering secrets sneakiness
spare me serpent and ravaging rod please hit me with your rhythm stick
appease the apple anchor my appetite avert my agonizing aspirations
Eve enters the epic production while Mary Magdalene marries measure
suddenly the speaker system sounds in supersonic spectacle’s squeals
sheep and shepherd apparition or angels dreams or duped delirious dance
purity pinnacles pentacles punishment penetration perspiration
chaste cinematic celebrations cradling caresses X rated cross
on the way home the bubble and the tyres burst into almighty shreds
but the spare rubber went missing and God works in mysterious ways
29th August 2020
Willingly, I ran
That was the first sign my life was falling apart
Strange bike that brought me back in one piece, damn you
That hope of abduction never came to fruition
I am complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Climbing those eight flights of stairs
Only to prolong my denial
Too choked to speak
Life has always been easy
I realize you are a hologram
Motion picture of a mother
You are complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Sent to bed at five o'clock
The same time it's been since yesterday
I fake asleep
When you walk in with my father
Coughing lies and webs of drunken incongruencies
I am complacent in the wake of my life's finale
We eat, and I sit by the water
Black tide splashing up to my toes
For a moment, I dream of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
I'm pulled away by the arrival of pasta
I do not eat, but rather stare as you finish
One, Two, Three, Four
Glasses of wine
I threaten to walk until I'm pacified
Moron, you call me
As we arrive, safely
Climbing those eight flights of stairs
Only to prolong my denial
My eyes are closed
I fake asleep
Sober at midnight
I said something that had scared you, though you don't quite remember
Please talk to you
I liked hearing you beg
Ignoring you in my bed,
I fake asleep
I wake up alone
Breakfast waiting for me
I do not eat.
Yesterday did not happen
I'm seventy feet under
Quite easy it would be to die here, I think
I wish I had.
I was complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Resurfacing, I refuse my favorite fruit
I do not eat, but rather stare at the water
For a moment, I dream of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
I’m complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
We drive in silence
Still crunchy from the salt
I fake asleep
I never woke up
Hypnotized by your lies and
The gaslit fire that kept me warm in my slumber
I dreamt of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
Until I fell still, complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
There were ten of the female gender in my immediate family.
Comparatively, there were five of us males and a dog name Jack.
Whether needed or not, I'd say there was a two to one advantage.
I'm not saying that all of them were programmed to be talkative, but
almost every one of the women in my family have lots of words designed to be spoken. And maybe it's just me, but it seems when my sisters are together, they compete in the number of words to be delivered. I tell you. It's serious business.
Growing up, if I were lucky, I had to 'break-in' to get a word in edge-wise.
Otherwise, I'd just stand around and listen to loud words that weren't so clear. Oh, my eight sisters liked to cook and play, but mostly, they liked to walk and talk. Even now, whether on a long distant call or close up
and in person, I still have to 'break-in' if ever I have any kind of say.
When my wife first met the women in my family, she could not understand
how anyone ever understood what the other was saying, because all of them were speaking at the same time. But make no mistake, if you did not
understand, it only meant that you were not an 'insider'. If by chance
one was able to 'break-in' and become a part of 'the loud and not so clear chat', he had better 'get on with it', or he would quickly be 'shouted down'.
Oh yes, although it remains a mystery, I suppose that somewhere in the family archives, there is indeed a hidden secret to the 'meaning of the madness'. But anymore, my wife doesn't try to enter in or even understand. But she does find it entertaining. She just sits or stands to observe the motion picture.
061422PSCtest, Women in my family, Sotto Poet
Beware the pieces of the puzzles of your life.
Treasure them early; appreciate them for life.
She was the sight of my first job opportunity away from the farm.
She bridged the social gap between 'my boyhood and my manhood'.
He had a shoe store when I asked him for a job, and he said yes.
His name was Abe, and I have him to thank for many lessons learned.
She is the sight of the first motion picture show that I ever watched.
She is the sight of the cafe with the best tasting hamburgers I ever ate.
He took me under his wings and taught me how to interact with people.
He portrayed the meaning of service, entrepreneurism, and persistence.
Her name means, 'Deer River', and as a child, I knew her as Issaquena.
She was the sight of a barber shop whose owner was also a musician.
She was the life blood of activities of every kind as the people mingled.
Abe and Issaquena, two unforgettable names attached to my early years.
Abe, a giant of a man; one piece of the puzzle that assisted me early in life.
Issaquena, a hometown street and an inanimate piece of my life's puzzle.
100221PS
Sometimes I wonder where did the time go
Am I growing overall or just not knowing
I ask myself is it me, it must be something I'm not showing enough of. Enough love, understanding, empathy, feels like a motion picture woe despicable me got me thinking am I still seeking to win your heart am I still fishing for you, what about my actions do they really speak louder than my words, are you still blessed to have me, are you really the one I deserve. Am I still the one you wanna spend your last days with, should I question it at this point but then again why not is this just a pit stop. I got plenty of questions but will yours answers put those fears to rest, we want everything to be right but are you ready to come together humbly and find out why, when, & where we went left.
I'm gonna try to be the President.
A major league baseball player.
I'm gonna try to be a football star.
A big casino winner.
I'm gonna try to drag around a fire hose.
Drive a hook and ladder.
Here's a few things, I'm gonna try to be.
I'm gonna try to be a winner.
Save up all my money.
Try to live it up.
I'm only just a beginner.
I'm gonna try to be a movie star.
A motion picture actor.
Then I'm gonna live it up, in Hollywood.
Become a top ten singer.
Here's just a few things, I'm gonna try to be.
I'm gonna try to be a winner.
I'm gonna try to be a winner..
Winner-Poetry By-Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2001,2014..
All rights reserved..
The American Library Association
implores cognoscenti tubby alert
for impersonators, who
call themselves Ernie and Bert
took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,
(who worked for Peanuts),
and pay-dirt, though
dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous
sordid details suppressed kept from press,
(which scurrilous breach of conduct)
involved said scallywag
violating more than flirt
discovered in prurient compromised activity,
where his skin flute encircled,
with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected
public television station benefactors,
and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly
to make a profit) sounding proper
sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
asper faux expected by
a "FAKE" trumpeting prophet,
sans motley crue comic
stripped of more'n
motion picture PG ratings,
hence future lurid, graphic,
banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
muted, disallowed, and banned
so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
(who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
returning amidst fanfare hoopla
much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
glory and apple pie order land
ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
and horrifyingly
brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
whereat armed guards
strategically stationed
at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable
ravishing knowledge
hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
faster then Clifford
the big red dog re: oh speed
wagon in toto (oz suppose)
to escape paginated bound woes,
but especially to flee bozos
not tubby confused with Bezos -
(the richest cat on planet Earth),
whose cashiered spigot flows
née gushes without any need to faucet.
Chromatic
Voglio chetu sia mio
Ibi locutus sum
J 'espere que je ne le
regretterai pas
Na ia jeg takkle meg
selv
Daar is geen skeuring
tussen jou en my nie
Es un honored haberna
sentido asi
Jeg vil gifte meg med
deg: Ja sir re'
....................................
Composed by
Griot Apala
Ritmo Escale
Cancion Sonido
Armonia Letra
Benga Gnawa
and
Forro Frevo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
From The Movie
"Simon Pure, The long way Around"
a story told by motion picture soundtracks
featuring Sincerus Fakta and
Fatto Frevo
Themed from 1999
"Brazilian Desert Beach bum's
find a treasure map, and one
of the guy's inherits a fortune
but in order to collect they have to
raise catt Brazil for one
year, as a cohesive crew
who show the caretaker
that they are
responsible people and the
inheritor makes compited decisions.
Above the Line
the film is said
to be targeted
to people who'll come back to movie
theators Twenty years from now
to see it agin.
The music alone is enough
to see this film. This one
has the magic number.
It's one to inspire artsy films for decades.
Lyric written by
Scherzo " Samba" Pizzicato
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"Having a Nemesis and creating another one sound's like something a Madman inspires to do"
" Bullsh4t, man! Bull! you stray from her one more time and I will exstarct the closest thing to hell your dumbass could ever want to see. Punks like you alway get the pretty ones, treat them like whores and don't think people care about you or what you're going through, truth is it aint even worth it! A woman is smart enough to love and mean enough to understaan, but if you cross her one more time, she'll be demonifed enough to mortar, remeber I'm ah loving fool waiting to for you to get in my face!"
" It's as strange as you make it: and as familair as you allow it to be, just remember you aint right in this fight Honey! Woman been doing this for years and you think you done scoreed the big one, He might be gaming ya!"
" True love conqueres all it seeps into the soul and intoxicates the spirt: : I aint seen nothing here that does that for me, even though I am in love with him. It's fun tricking him: his former freind wanted me to be pregant with his child, and look him in his eyes and tell him he was the daddy, all along while he and I would only know the differance: I thought about it!"
(William Hammer, Thomas Alva Edison's assistant,
has reached the end of his tolerance. His boss is
planning to electrocute an elephant for a publicity
stunt.)
If he goes through with this, the dam has burst.
I'm done with him. Of all the tricks he's pulled,
this is the lowest, cheapest, cruellest. Worst.
Yes, Edison. He can't be serious,
can he? To execute an elephant?
He's out there, grinning like a Barbary ape.
Where two or more newspapermen are gathered,
Alva loses all his self-control.
He'll be there now, perspiring, shouting, lathered,
excited to his flinty, vulgar soul.
I'm William Joseph Hammer. Who are you?
A quarter-century I've spent with him,
but now the scales have fallen from my eyes.
The man's a pirate and a charlatan.
Inventor? Him?
Well, since I'm stranded here
in shabby Coney Island in the rain,
ignored and slighted, spited yet again,
I'll tell you. Edison did not invent
the light bulb - that's what he employed me for.
Besides, I'll name a dozen scientists
who'd made a working lamp some years before.
What is he good at? He's a patent-mill!
He takes out patents like a dentist, teeth
(except that dentists never put their name
on what they've pulled). The man has got no shame.
The team has all the talent, he the grin:
we think the thoughts, and Alva cashes in.
I think he's met his match in Westinghouse.
The so-called war of currents. Who will win?
America will buy one set of goods,
and where this country leads, the others go.
To get his system in American homes,
He'd kill his grandma.
Hence this all-time low.
He's worse than Czolgosz. At the very least,
the latter had nobility, although
misguided. Alva has no other cause
beyond himself. Those motion picture-things
are here for Alva's glory. When the blow
extinguishes that poor beast's life, you'll know
whose self-promoting hand was on the tiller.
Saint Thomas Alva Edison's a killer.