Long Netted Poems
Long Netted Poems. Below are the most popular long Netted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Netted poems by poem length and keyword.
Before the dark obscures the sky,
I sat gloomily looking out of the window, wondering why
wishing one of the stars tonight will glide and send you smiles
right here in my heart: a feeling that cannot deny
creeping worries and gloom-----sinking to the bones
of my fear, I close my eyes, hope and pray. Here,
my heart trembles, fear of the unknown
ghost of formidable weather in the origin, and what
a pal humbly does, not to close the jar
spills the ink, not to count the molecules on air
if possible, pull down all the stars above
all in her wish you’re at best right where you are.
More thoughts of you, in succession comes
lighting the pent-torch in search of love ones
my echoes traverse, emotion balances: still,
the fleck spreads out and runs in a glut
sacred novena uncontrollably flooded since the start
my ranging gloom. However, excitement of our plans await
scribbling countless words….I wish my break swiftly comes on its wings
ink profusely flows releasing conglomerations of feelings
outpouring all the words from a pal’s warmest embrace
dream once dreamt printed on my hymn: the pledge
and the joys how we shared once through pen
light and happiness: worries no more
The power of ink, words unfold surge and drifts away as
my fingers open a glint of hope, I’m waiting
Jan. 21, 2012
Nette, my dear poet friend and very talented kababayan come back home now, please. This poem which I hardly tried to write with the inspiration of one of your super winning poems is not primarily for the contest; (‘though I’m entering it) but, for me to send all my warmest thoughts of you. We’re missing you now here on soup. I hope you're doing well and hope to see you soon.
Third Place
Contest: Netted by Words: Her Silvered, Tender Web
Judged: 2/19/2013
Sponsor: Poet Cyndi Macmillan
Of Silent Webs and Freedom Bells
In the watery silk web
of slippery deceit,
the inked widow sits poised
upon her throne’s seat.
Fresh from their cocoons,
the innocent plows the air
unaware of the netted fate
that awaits them there.
The laughing wind plays tic-tack-toe
with the two foes,
chillingly unconcerned
as to how the situation goes.
In the end, by law, nature
will be the deciding one;
choosing the loser as well
as the creature who has won.
Strange how man apes
this phenomenon of nature;
as if he was the controlling force
and world shaker;
selecting and culling
his inked man-cubs one by one;
caught in the bloody silk web
of the chosen some.
But the gavel of justice
is unweaving the deceit that men bare;
and echoes of cracked liberty bells
are bellowing everywhere.
Mister Joe, would-be muse,
jangles loose change in his pocket.
Memories jogged and garnered as he walks.
Mister Joe in contemplation,
washes, rinses and tumble dries, what pops into his head,
in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
to taunt and flap jangles for him,
for his readers, and strangers who happen to pass on by.
Mister Joe, would-be muse,
casts charms, jangles and sparkles,
to jog in the minds of his readers.
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and serendipity dips,
in the minds of his readers with word play, puzzles and twists.
The catch netted, is prodded, poked, shaken and stirred,
to inspire twinkles, sparkles, hums, aahaa's, grunts,
and perchance, nods of appreciation and delight.
Mister Joe's catch of memories, once jarred and jangled, are returned to reader with care.
For the reader to add jangles to their pockets,
and gems to their lockets and charm bracelets.
Mister Joe, would-be muse, and his reader, now walk with jangles echoing within.
The branch that grew on its own
No consideration of where it was sown
Oh, the heights could it seek
To become one that others would speak
Look at this what I have will flourish
Many shall see my example to nourish
New heights and beauty of many branches
All going in many directions
Not seeing the way it was headed
Even the spiders had quit netted
As the branch was about to hit the power line
The workers came by and chopped its spine
Falling to the ground in unbelief
What use shall I be of now in grief
How many times did it refuse to be pruned
Now laying in the dust of ruined
They were gathered round the billabong
to try to work things out
but all that was being emitted was
a right Caxton of sounds
All were jabber, jabber
and some pushing going on
jostling each other for space
none wanting to be left out
At last the wallaby said
whoa, stop I say STOP
and quiet finally fell
Lets give the chair to cockatoo
He can perch up high
from where he can
keep things moving
so watch for his signal
Cockatoo opened the meeting
and first called on Dingo
you get everywhere Dingo
what have you heard?
Dingo says I heard the humans
they are going to cut down
the blue ridge forest
and build many houses there
That can not happen
it is our home
we will have to work together
if we band we can delay their work
So the animals agreed on a plan
the big animals would sit in the roads
slowing the trucks down
While the monkeys would hide their tools
Snakes would wrap their bodies
around the marked trees
while the birds and parrots
the workers they would bomb
All this drove the foreman to despair
the work fell further and further behind
We could build netted fences
but that only stops the large animals
The Wet will be on us
in less than a month
if the land is still un-cleared
all work will come to a stop
I think we need to reconsider
and turn the Blue Ridge mountains
into a reserve for them all
there are plenty of other places
Where we can build
that do not have many animals
lets leave them the ridges
then we and our children
Will have a sanctuary
to come and watch these fighters
they have shown us the errors
not all land should be built on
At the next meeting
Dingo told them you are safe
your homes will be left untouched
all we all have to do is show our faces
Pose for the odd photo
amuse with a few tricks
and in return
we can live in peace
18/04/2017
Mirror Of Time
Surrounded by skeletons,
All just a' running and fast,
Occupying their moments and minds.,
Big time,
Regrets of the past..,
To stop themselves espying..,
The mirror of time.
My friend.., my age, a paperboy.,
On his bike ., cycling to catch the freetime
Of a Sunny Saturday morning.,
In 20 Billion., I'll recall him..,
Free-wheeling, right 'long,
The middle line.
Got an advert inter-netted me.,
A mystic, says my future's all set..,
For a minimal amount of coinage..,
Tomorrow's Knowledge.,
And for a coin?
What'd they hope for with what they purloin?
Guess I'll ask them in 20 billion..,
See if they kinda misspent their days.,
They'll just give me their enamoured bible still.., in some kind of reverence,
And say their guns speak louder than prayers.
I'm just surrounded by all these walking skeletons.,
All running around to nowhere and fast.,
Trynna' occupy their minds and their moments,
But the mirror of time and their payment..,
.....Comes....
At last.
Form:
(described in ~thirty lines of rhyme)
Might help explain how fruit
full this harmless poetic brute,
(a Methacton School of hard knocks
grad), who sports astute
demeanor with ample
brew netted locks,
vaguely androgynously cute,
his trademark signature hirsute
unstyled wavy hair
tell tale characteristic,
not that I care if anyone
gives rats ass and/or hoot
bummer attire acceptable since
long unemployed and
recipient with meager loot
receiving social security
disability to boot,
nonetheless can while
away unlimited numbers
of wee hours into morning
yea ideally best time to sleep,
but also most optimal,
while the missus thrashes
in bed thankfully mute
unless ya don't count
flatulence she doth toot
disrupting and derailing
train of thought
courtesy trumpeting glute.
Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
"Valentine Fatale"
Pull the violin
strings
from the heart
like a corset undone
there the softest rose,
blood red plucked,
the thorns played
and petals cast
as kitty discard
from the breast
of a Valentine fatale
voluptuously falling
into the open arms
of Love, spilling
over into romance
like a broken dam
ripely held in the
bow of cupid smile
passion full
drawn into
the delectable swim
twirling swirling down
into the warm velvet
like moss, so green
against reflective
sapphire pools,
the dangerous sea seen
like an inviting ocean to kiss,
in such vastness taken,
the lost fast falling
thick panting eyes
mirroring each other
in the dance,
like a waltz Viennese
Love, spilling over,
like a broken dam
fallen, then,
pulled back
into the catch,
netted and tangled up
in the ropes of
Rubenesque romance,
eye to eye
hand to hand,
a burning flame
ripely held in the
bow of cupid smiles,
incandescent
fiery twin arrows,
the well lit,
seduction
(LadyLabyrinth/2023)
Dearest Tenser:
Told you I would write you about the weekend.
Pray for them flood peoples and all. But got some news for ya.
She used a chrt to list the men she'd been with. We sat in the dining hall listen to her presentation. It was right before the BBQ.
She went inside and started cooking. Acting like everything was done on tth grill. I didn't say anything when people arived, holding my tougne. That Gal from Dizzies showed up. Dressed like a street thang. Netted jacket, netted pants. "A show stopper one peice", we told her to put Duct tape over the Specail treats cause our men freinds were here. She did it. Got mad when some one said something about it. Well back to thee BBQ. Miss Thang did the cooking. Had Short ribs with wine sauce potatoes and mushrooms. It was good. She cooked the short ribs in the crock pot for six hourss
and smoked a BBQ sauce on the smoker
and and tossed the ribs in
when her company arrived.
Acting like the whole thing was done
outside.
I stood laughing at her
write me back:I gonna meddle into why these pole choose us to be audeince to them.
Sincerly Your Tenser
The Giraffe Cries
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour
Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar
Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations
The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises
It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts
Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths
The train departs…the giraffe cries