Long Neptune Poems
Long Neptune Poems. Below are the most popular long Neptune by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Neptune poems by poem length and keyword.
when Jove heard of the happens in Ethicia
he summoned Neptune, who bought
Cupid and Bacchus to stand before him
and speak of what they saw in Ethica.
Bacchus wish to speak last due to the
fact that Jove blamed him for most
things that went wrong in Saddlery,
and Bacchus knew that Cudip played
part in the happenings in Ethica.
Cupid told the story of Jinn and Rapa
dancing with Mami Wata, who wore nothing and had plenty wine.
She asked to lay beneath Rapa as she wished Jinn to be atop.
Your wives shall hate me,
and my Husband shall wish to war against you
recalled Cupid of the three laying in the
Garden making love.
Bacchus interrupted and spoke and neither were they drunk or with out influence of Cupid.
Cupid said angrily, then you accuse me, this is neither love or Loved said Cupid.
they grind to create friction,
those that I inspire lay in love and are Lovers.
Bacchus said there influence is neither of love or God
might they wish to satisfy mans need to war?
Jove answered, than they shall stand before me
and speak theses ills of lust.
Cupid summoned Neptune who retrieved Jinn, Rapa, and Mami Wata.
Neptune crossed seven continents looking for these satans.
He found them in Mor- Moral were they
stood in front the mssess in the town of Concern naked and cared not who saw them.
Neptune spoke and said
Jove wishes to see you might you come with me.
Not wanting to make the Most powerful God angry they quickly came.
Jove spoke and asked them why they were doing what they were doing and what they wished to accomplish by doing so.
Jinn told him, a husband shall be angered and two wives shall hate her, are you God that you refuse to understand.
Jove said with me being might you understand that I am, and all that exists is of me.
why than do you make those fear and hate you,
then Jinn spoke and said.
which pleasures are services to God?
Than which services to God are chored.
What we do is to inspire neither service or chore
might it anger those who are our wives and her husband,
might these pestilence of man find it easier to war.
Jove spoke and said, I am Jove
I am that at I am, what is neither is never done,
what is done is never undone,
than man shall laugh at you as I wish them to.
then Jove stood and waved his hand
and all men in every nation laughed at these Satans
never to speak there tale agin.
EDDIE MARS AND THE SOLAR WINDS
The biggest band in Lisburn and fronted by Eddie Mars
A guy who could play anything, on his collection of guitars
On vocals, Charlie Venus, who was the joker in the pack
He played his fender tele' through a great big marshall stack
On bass was Johnny Neptune, with his yellow platform shoes
He harmonized on vocal, a disciple of the blues
The keyboards were delivered, by Hector Mothership
He worshipped things electrical, and loved the microchip
Ray Uranus kept the beat and he wore a bowler hat
Sure only a crazy drummer, would adopt a name like that
They played all over Britain, with their rockin lunar style
They sold out gigs in Wigan, they were lauded in Millisle
Their stage show was fantastic, with a massive lighting rig
A spaceship and some planets, lit the stage at every gig
That grew a loyal fan base, as they played across the land
They lived a life of excess, just like any touring band
Success soon followed in their wake, awards came thick and fast
And very soon the space machine, had an ever growing cast
Five young lads from Lisburn, fifty people in their crew
An entourage of strangers that they never even knew
Five big trucks, a fleet of cars, a chopper and two planes
A man to do the finance, who didn't even know their names,
Still, fashions change, the sales dried up, the audience died away
And soon there were no big crowds, to watch the five lads play
Their last gig at the Ulster hall, was an evening to forget
Out of tune, and full of beer, as they stumbled through the set
And things got pretty messy when accountants came to call
They had no cash, they had no rights, seems their manager had it all
Their luck ran out, the band where broke, they had to end the show
They had to sell up everything, the spaceship had to go
Ray could never come to terms, with all the hurt and pain
He took some drugs and alcohol, he just never woke again
Hector went to college and he earned a top degree
And now he is the I.T guy in a light bulb factory
Johnny is the local star, who likes to talk about his fame
He tries to pull the young girls, and dine out on his name
Charlie lost his family, when the alcohol took hold
He shelters in the hostels when the weather gets too cold
Eddie left the country, when it all became too much
He now lives in Australia, but he never kept in touch
DAUGHTERS
Opposites presented by Goddess
in talons of Eagle
on wings of Dove
Equally loved
A torrent from a fierce black cloud
yang frothing waves in a storm
beating seaweed rocks
claiming it in her bosom
then furling it afar
into unknown depths
where Neptune roars
his roar on end
boasting an indigo flag
Then ...light as a feather
yin floating on a shimmering beach
rosy ringlets microscope crabs, bubbles
giggling at ant antics
in crevices of creaky floorboards
while autumn Sun sets
dew drops on clover leaves
so misty morning says Hello !
A dancing juicy apricot
kisses at library doors
spongy beneath oak exterior
where beetles dug a hundred paths
staring defiance at an orange star
scornful, graceful, factual
proclaiming a Largeness of Life !
An Earth child in long waves of auburn
reaching for Mercury
A Spirit child, Earth located
One imaged from bowels of struggle
she whispered freedom in my ears
when behind prison bars
I sat counting toes
One imaged from Gabriel’s gown
or was it Merlin’s ?
she fingered watercolours
through my lenses
As Saturn said goodbye ...
Sirius screamed from wreaking hell
wrought from rages or sages unknown
Born in blood without its blue
from a womb of turmoil tremors
crystal dripping dark strife
hypocrisy contemplated
torn apart by churning guts
as young medics ogled
grimaced, searched
so premature, so incubated
it was “I will survive!”
Sun and Moon crossed one another
not knowing which way but loose
streaming rivers flowing sideways
in dusty towns, painted villages, rape
a gecko appeared on a pillowcase
Gangster peeped through a window
books came tumbling down
numbers flew away
lashes black as croaking crow
it was “I am here!”
There can be no coin to
ponder if not faces two
no tornado ripping apart
if no breezes play on
a horse farm in Karoo
No life if no death
Night clings to day
as daybreak clings to escaping night
sunset embraces twilight
negates itself, disappearing
one embalming the other while
flying
together on a silver thread
in blueberry Sky !
well, woman has been around for a while
hypno-teasing men with her wicked smile
been known by many names starting with Eve
Boadicea, Cleopatra and Genevieve
she can fly-by-night, be out with the bats
purring and prowling with sly slinky cats
never a tame girl, sometimes receptive
with hidden secrets, deep and deceptive
see her in twilight, creature in the dark
flames flickered when she was Joan of Arc
think she has been here for just a few years?
think again, 'them' hills, they flow with her tears
woman has been teacher for aeons of time
wrote most of " Homer ", taught Plato to rhyme
as Archimedes' hand-maid, she had a laugh
when he shouted " Eureka, get me out of the bath! "
around when Adam gave out those spare ribs
her name is on parchment writ with rare nibs
her time here with us, a mere interlude
battles over centuries, a bitter feud
with men from the past and future I'm told
man on her arm, just her latest cuckold
well-rounded dame or seriously slim
cheerful demeanour or chief sister grim
close-quarter woman talking loud and fast
words over-taking like a blast from the past
so hard to keep up, so hard to break in
leave you behind in the wake of her din!
what's this I hear, is she now slowing down
pausing for men, is she wearing a frown?
perhaps she's starting to shuffle the deck
departure dreaming on a very long trek
maybe no point in moving on once more
the greater challenge is here at the door
as men they shout " I am invincible
I've the biggest Archimedes Principle! "
late at night she now walks the floorboards
seeking a new role, a song with new chords
" where and when will I go, who will I be
will I stay in this land or else oversea ? "
men of the future and men of the past
treasure this woman as head of the cast
whenever, wherever, whoever you are
she will always twinkle, shine like a star
bring her some chocolate, bring her some wine
make sure she stays and has a good time
but watch at midnight in case she's outside
all alone by the road hitching a ride
silver moonbeam and finest curb crawler
then down to the port and onto a trawler
far out to sea where she thinks of those days
when Gods fought Neptune for sight of her gaze
My grandfather Hymie
spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes as testimony
to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittled
spumed raw elements que
sin art finest artisanal blended, crafted,
dredged by mother nature pre
pared within each trough and crest only
for thy fiercely weatherbeaten nee,
tough as rawhide, leathery,
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within
briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, prith ee
teaching him survival skills asper
getn' taut via eddy fied tests frequently de
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian mutual friend
shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man appeared quite be
coming. An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
ah...them tha many decades past
since the merchant
from Neptune to mast
to nether world, though his parting seems
like it hapt last
year, noot nay twas scores o' full moons ago,
that grim reaper came swift and fast.
Built in a Belfast shipyard
for Shaw Savill ‘n Albion Line.
On her flagstaff wind ‘n lee
flew the Southern Cross ensign,
down a slipway to the sea
launched afar by Her Majesty
Behold her pale eau de nil
green ‘n painted hull of grey,
at twenty knots her rate
twenty thousand tons aweigh.
On the seas a ship of fate
the world to circumnavigate
Yon the Empire far ‘n wide
from Southampton to Trinidad.
Where from ship to shore
off I waved goodbye as a lad,
till in the distance I saw
my home to be nevermore
Smoke from her aft funnel
into a big Caribbean sky blew,
then set a course westerly
by merchant captain ‘n crew.
And to each port ‘n quay
across the ocean carried me
I remember gazing in awe
up ‘n down her length ‘n beam,
at the mighty waves below
and how sea ‘n ship did gleam.
In canal gates under tow
winding our way lazy ‘n slow
Crossing the equator I saw
Davy Jones ‘n King Neptune
rising up out of the deep
‘neath a high December moon.
Till in safe passage ‘n keep
back to the depths they leap
Out on Oceania as a boy
in the lido deck pool I did dive.
The Southern Cross ‘n me
would our long voyage arrive,
on in all her hope ‘n glory
the grand old lady of the sea
On final Far East voyage
would alas be her swan song,
beached on a tidal seaway
sold ‘n scrapped in Chittagong.
A line flagship in her day
stripped bare where she lay
Written: May 2017
It was on board this ship nearly 50 years ago that me and my family left Trinidad bound for New Zealand - I was nearly 8 years old. We arrived on Christmas Day 1968 in Wellington (pictured) and a couple days later disembarked in Auckland. Built in the same shipyard as the Titanic in 1954, the SS Southern Cross had a far more fortuitous career transporting immigrants and pleasure seekers across the British Empire until her sad and final resting place in Chittagong, Bangladesh (pictured) where she ended her 50 years of service as the Ocean Breeze in a ship-breaking graveyard in 2004. She was the first passenger liner to be launched by a reigning monarch. Not a big ship by today's standards but as a boy to me she was huge - I thought she was magnificent. Still do.
We lay bare next to the skin of the earth
watching mercury dancing around the restless sun
playing hide and seek in the burning heat
and penetrating mankind deception in the deep
Venus is orbiting the earth with its piercing light
casting shadows on the desperate arrows
and choking up the heavens
I don't know where they have laid him
but I can feel his current rumbling through the earth
ripping the stagnant river apart
and looking at the moon in the dark
I am sitting here waiting on the unknown
Heart throbbing billows rolling and
the deep blue sky is covering my head
The green trees are still standing tall
waiting for the anticipated fall
Saturn in riding on wings in big circles
it is the rock on which we stand
And it stabilizes the turbulent land
looking for the one who is able
to withstand its fiery hands
Jupiter has been murmuring for years
it has a storm that is bigger than our fears
twisting cold windy clouds over our busy head
erupting the emotions and stretching our legs
Neptune is invisible to the naked eyes but its
water and methane is fasten on solid ice
Uranus is filled with chemical composition
The confusion on earth is position on suspicion
Is this imagination or mere confusion
Mars has been snooping on us from the sky
Twice this week it emerges in plain sight
with its bright orange eye budging from the sky
I have mistaken it for the amber moon
But nature has declared a war to soon
Bees buzzing from the sky dropping honey in the kettle
Mankind queuing up in long lines waiting for a city that is divine
The mystery of life is yet to be found
It is buried somewhere beneath the blistering ground
Something is out there in the unknown
Waiting for the perfect time to make itself known
Earth with its formidable crust has finally open it guts
exposing its intricacy and laughing at us loudly
something more powerful than man lives in deep ocean
swirling and twirling like monster ready to devour
Oh how much I dread this conceited revelation
It is shaking the core of the hemisphere
causing death and destruction over the years
Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune
are bidding earth goodbye as they regroup in the sky
Life mystery is profound and it is found in the unknown.
...Techno was so excited that
scanning the moon made him happy,
he babbled about it a he flew,
sending back new pictures endlessly.
A year passed before her reached Mars,
used its gravity to increase speed,
it was only a short fly-by,
but his scans took up all of our feeds.
The next stop he made was Saturn,
where he parked himself in orbit,
came up with questions, ran his scans,
we were all quite impressed by it.
He thought up new places to look,
new approaches none had yet tried,
he was a copy of Johns’ brain,
and saw things with similar eyes.
He stayed at Saturn for two years,
found new moons and studied the rings,
then powered up his engines for
the next great undertaking.
This burn would take him to Neptune,
but when the signal did come in,
he said,”Hooray…another planet…
well I guess I’d better begin.”
How a robot could sound sarcastic
at first boggled some of our minds,
then Johns answered,”He’s growing up,
my teenage years weren’t a great time.”
We remembered this was new ground,
a computer like a human brain,
and the data kept coming in,
enough it would take years to tame.
Techno became much more snarky
in the two years out to Neptune,
far from the excited A.I.,
he now sung a defiant tune.
When he arrived he started slow,
had to be prodded by us to act,
given the lag in radio
these delays were no little fact.
But teenage as Techno might be,
he had been created for this,
and there was nothing else to do,
so he grudgingly got to business.
At Neptune he stayed for a year,
then fired his engines once more,
a last burn to the Kupier Bel,
the solar system’s very door.
Folks were pumped for what he would find,
information, such a great wealth...
but none came in, just Techno’s words:
“You want it? Go get it yourself!”
That was the last we heard from Techno,
at least for a good long while,
we kept trying to reach the bot,
but he refused every trial.
We were annoyed, but still saw the
greater mission as a success,
the data from the two big planets
would for years hold people’s interest.
Besides it had always been planned
to draw down Techno’s power now,
batteries low, all out of fuel,
he would drift as he went, outward bound...
CONCLUDES IN PART III.
Dynamic reef flexion within the restless Earth
Continental drift spelled birth
once spelled Pangaea,
in early geologic time,
a supercontinent that incorporated
almost all the landmasses on Earth.
While rifling through mine
treasure trove of poems,
yours truly chanced upon
satisfactorily worded
geological event
where plate tectonics wrought
subterranean violent transformation
about a half dozen years ago.
Rust never sleeps courtesy zinc
without rhyme nor reason ye shan't
blame Neptune for unleashing
Indonesian tragic phenomena
just by his innocent wink
merely intended by regular
casual reminder
for Earthlings to think
seriously how (inhabited
linkedin chain of islands,)
yea kinda resembling a slink
key, within the ring of fire,
a large 40,000 km
(25,000 mi) horseshoe shape, -
Yukon also envision
a vague watery rink
encompassing basin of Pacific Ocean,
where e'en the subtlest plink
(no doubt unintentional), thus
absolutely necessary for inhabitants
to catch the latest
drift (albeit continental),
he gave forewarning
just days prior,
possibly relayed after
getting tipsy from overdrink,
hence warning not taken seriously,
where majority resident didst think
a practical joke got played,
yet a coterie of attentive people
accoutered in faux mink
(dressed to the nines
fur a gala fete
also taken by surprise,
no one sensed
any sudden high jink
then the cleaners),
and really the entire
population sustained strong kinship
with what they believed
tubby reasonable god
(a carry over from Greco
Roman Times font size 12),
hence could never suspect,
he would hoodwink
boy (and girl), whar
they ever wrong, come
Friday, 28 September 2018
at 17:02h military time,
or 7:02 post meridiem
an earthquake measuring 7.4
on Richter magnitude scale
leaving Indonesian island
of Sulawesi in total ruins,
from said rat fink
and additionally webbed,
wide whirling countersink
triggered a massive tsunami
razing humongous chink
essentially wiping off the map
in an eye blink,
whereat his lordship
could not be reached,
thus survivors bethink
sum - man tricks brought
watership down,
ah buoy big boon
dog gull upon his head,
boot nonetheless coon
sitter ably less of Neptune!
>Waiting rooms, an urge to write?
Why is it in a hospital waiting room?
I feel an urge to write.
I mean it’s a place to feel unwell.
Surely I should not want to write.
You see, when I am writing.
I always feel just right.
So perhaps it best to keep writing.
And feel so blinking right.
I always arrive early.
For my appointments that is true.
There are of course odd moments.
I forget appointments I do.
Not in as forgetting completely.
Oh no, that is not true.
Just write the appointments in my diary.
On the wrong day space I do.
I know I must have a problem.
That short-term memory, remembering thing.
If I could remember what it’s called?
I would not have the blinking thing.
But I write down what I’m told.
In printing, oh so very bold.
I think it must be, because I’m old.
So guess I am, as that’s what I’m told.
I wonder how long it will go on.
Making mistakes like that.
I made one last year as well.
Like me rhyming, my memories gone.
Will soon be time to call me in.
As hydrotherapy, I did begin.
Last week. Oh I did tell you.
In another poem, yes, that’s true.
So best stop now, before you know.
I am called, and it’s time to go.
Into that hydrotherapy pool.
Where the physio staff, make me look a fool.
I can’t take me paper and pen.
As like me, they will get wet.
Then those words, that I did write.
Will float away like me, that’s right.
To be fair, I must confess.
I keep one foot on the bottom, no less.
As if I took both off the ground.
Without that nurse I’d surely drown.
Now this is all that I wrote there.
As my name was called, so I staggered there
And when those physios, had their way with me.
I staggered back, the same you see.
But I thanked those ladies two.
For looking after me, as they did do.
I’m glad they kept Father Neptune away.
Was no room for him anyway.
And with the exercises they gave me.
Gentle ones, they were, you see.
I’m sure they will soon cure me.
Then no more of me, will they'll see.
As I’ll be cured!
And they all will be,
Oh so extremely happy.
And also will be, blinking me.
It seems funny how writing can take the edge off pain. As soon as I stop it comes back again. Funny feeling, feeling pain. (The mad author)<
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