Long Northward Poems
Long Northward Poems. Below are the most popular long Northward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Northward poems by poem length and keyword.
because of bad dating experiences
that’s really been confusing me for a while
his is something
that she refuses to mention
friends can only go so far
and frei is all he is limited to
poetic devices to express thoughts
might he create the condition of
her needing him
having one person to share your thoughts
in a life built together seems more novel
especially when tow are apart
the meeting to embrace and be noticed
to be adorned is his goal
it is her nevermind due to his longing
she resist and overly edges to insult
relationship dynamics to
prefer a more casual or flexible
approach to dating and romance
East is east no matter where I stand
yet northward winds come from the south
westward might the sun travel
from morning to evening
Where I refuse to stand before you
in doubt
When I consider the nights without you
I think of the loneliness of your troubles
that you wish me to completely yours
undefined to which what you speak
that had started the day we met
from a smile and kiss to
a romantic evening
to hear my own regrets
might I sing the lullaby of whispers
where I have been trashed to refute
where it is complete and unmentioned
our love affair where I am prize
in your pursuit
in reference to our togetherness
I applaud your characteristic begs
I frown and giggle laughing
at you
To only want you here or around
From
Lost in A singer Lingo
Where is That Crooner
Written By Jules Halfstep
and Romantisk Berättelse
Music and Song
Standing on the porch savoring the taste of a cold Blue Moon, I pause.
A day's work has ended. I watch as our border collie Rusty navigates the pasture, Herding cows into the barn. Each one moves to its proper stall, Finding their way, as we all do when we recognize our home. The sun has set. The last light of it’s feeble reach remains on the horizon, thin pale arms Reaching to draw the shade. The first star of the evening reveals itself
As I turn my gaze northward past the old oak, where the rope swing hangs
Like an exclamation point! Beyond this, there lies a hollow cave of dark,
Formed by weeping willows rooted to the banks. This is where our farm begins. The creek unfolding from tears the willows cry, becoming a drink that nourishes the land. Life flows from the water as it flows from the earth. In the stillness of this evening I look to that dark place of origins, where the light is most absent. In that place, Just above the surface of the water, I see the first firefly of summer as it slowly blinks:
I am here I am here I am here.
Others heed its call adding voices to the choir. The sleepy meadow fields
Reflect the night stars above, fireflies mirrored below. They provide a glimpse of how the night has been forever. Crickets chirp, frogs croak, as cows begin their dream of greener fields. Here, I am lost and I am found. Staring at the earth’s reflection I experience the quiet birth of bliss that comes from sudden realizations. At the height of our brightest light we become all of this, A passing memory. The light of our humanity pulsing as one heartbeat,
Matching the fireflies light, as we blink into forever:
we are here we are here we are here.
I Thought Irma Was Over
By Franklin Price
9/11/2017 – 5:26 PM
I thought Irma was over
When she turned right at the coast
To cross the width of Florida
With an eye I thought was toast
She made it although wounded
Winds out four hundred miles
She kicked the ass of Jacksonville
And took away their smiles
She left and headed northward
Pounding Georgia's coast and Isles
The Okefenokee swamp
Had hunkered down it's crocodiles
She then kept on to Charleston
Water surged in streets and ways
I'll not think she's gone again
Looks like thinking never pays
It would not surprise me
If she headed out to sea
And got her wits about her
And came back after me
I'd hunker down in Asheville
A very sheltered blue ridge town
I'm sure the mountains would not stop her
She'd scream right in and blow them down
I'm hoping she won't read this
And decide to come my way
I would much appreciate it
If she went to sea today
Headed to where the water's cold
To take away her fuel
Looks like that's the only way
She will die and end this duel
His meds kept Andrew sane
He lived with us, no one to blame
But one day he refused his pills
I knew what that meant, a battle of wills.
In a few days voices told Andrew to leave.
He vanished, left a note I didn’t believe.
I tracked his SIM card to Idaho.
I had lots on my plate but I had to go.
At Boise airport, I rented a car.
From there I let instinct be my guiding star
I thought Andrew would go where wild horses run
So I drove northward to find my son.
The scenery had its beauty, the mountains were high
The snow on their peaks merged with clouds in the sky
In the Challis grassland, antelope roam
But my son wasn't meant for a cowboy poem.
I drove since midnight, no sleep to be had
My thoughts were racing about Andrew gone mad.
Then the sun rose over a ridge, a golden crest
The kind of view you only get in the American West.
I found nine horses grazing and a wraith was there
I recognized him by his red burning hair
He said “zombie pills are a high price to be sane
But I will relent, I will spare you more pain.”
I said "Your meds are the best that science can do
Let's drive home together, our relations renew
It's quite a backdrop you found; I like the aura
of the sunrise cresting the top of Mount Borah."
He took half a pill, we drove the Lost River east
After a while his false voices ceased.
Many years have passed since that madness attack
But stressed in my office, I often flash back
The image remains, stamped in my mind
Caught among the wild horses, a son to find,
I read my Wall Street Journal, and the thought haunts me
So many people are their worst enemy.
I saved him, but who will save me?
"Tropic of Cancer"
Follow the silent trail
words like stars shine
coded on straight lines
blind to all
like diamonds
they are invisible
the keys
written and held
Winter stars puzzle the sky
Northward a cold frontier
waits beckoning
Capricorn’s Summer's dream
Escape Hell South
Where Heaven is a blue sky
golden beach purgatory
littered with pristine fingernail shells
Chinaman's Beach
the child grown
no more school bells
days are long and free to roam
Nine inch nails
to be buried in
some other coffin
burned and pushed out to sea
Cancer has been kissed away
alongside Soldier crabs and
prisoners in
Balmoral Beach cells
Wolves breathe hot
on cool paws
smiling wet lips
for thanksgiving
Circle of Magic
drawn in the warm sand
Ocean lapping
King tide kissing bare feet
On the other side
a future waiting, calling
Omen of higher self chairs
voices in the mind debating
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“Impasse”, Angel Oslen
https://youtu.be/kWUtALx9i14
Impasse/ Lyrics
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/angelolsen/impasse.html
Emilie Simon - Fleur De Saison
https://youtu.be/W3RUJ22Ca2k
Orson Welles and company put on a show
which was broadcast in 1939 over CBS radio.
It was based on a book written years before
by H. G. Wells whom many readers would adore.
Martian invaders landed in Grover's Mill, New Jersey,
and marched their way northward into New York City.
Many listeners considered this production terrific.
The sounds of an invasion appeared so realistic.
Unfortunately, the broadcast started some panicking.
So many people thought this was the real thing.
Welles had to announce he was downplaying any fear.
"Don't worry people, the Martians are not really here".
Based on the 1939 CBS Radio broadcast of "The War of the Worlds"
Somewhere on the ocean waves in the year of sixty six
The ocean wind and rain joined forces, a deadly dangerous mix
We were on our way from the Mediterranean, where we were deployed
Amphibious operations and some ports that we enjoyed
It was mid July, the sea was calm on a warm and sunny morning
We were heading into inclement weather, a violent hurricane warning
Later that day the seas picked up much higher than the norm
Word was passed that we were heading into the eye of the storm
We sailed against the wind fighting hard to stay on course
We had never before encountered a storm with such driving force
Waves the size of mountains came crashing across the bow
Dorothy was magnificent, queen of the seas for now
She never moved toward the mainland and had a very short history
She moved northward in the Atlantic and finally died at sea
We returned to Norfolk where our journey had begun
Check the superstructure and assess the damage that was done
Dorothy was a nightmare the way she howled and screamed
Dorothy was more beautiful than anything we dreamed
Sometimes I look out over the ocean thinking way back then
And Dorothy in her Glory, I’d love to see her once again.
Hurricane Dorothy in 1966 was a short lived hurricane
that died out in the North Atlantic never reaching the mainland.
I was at sea in the eye of the storm. Awesome.
Trader: wares of merchants.
Where do you keep at night?
Demagogue, hold back thy rants!
Oracle, thy sight!
Weathervane, point northward?
The master deals in snow?
Prisoner, hoist thy petard!
Chains, perform a tow...
Remember the moment?
Depends on what it had.
Far-flung fate to foment!
Fair flicker, O my fad!
Tremendous the tempered tale?
Metamorphic shale.
Fortune, got the time to fail?
Get thy garbage pail.
Prophet, poet, poison.
O serpent, hiss in time.
Rhyme and riddle, ricin.
Wind, blow hard the chime.
Eagle, ergo. Weal and woof.
Steady blows the storm.
Shingles, cover well. Hoof? Roof!
Wicker man, mare, warm...
Snail, thy trail. Never end, cur.
Mongrel, bite down hard.
Reminiscence! Where we were!
Orion, thy shard...
Open doth my soul and thine own breath bequeath
for here in this realm of mine, none else exists
gage me in dear moon, for I hunger here beneath
the ribboning rays of blue, come be my Deist
Open doth my mind and thine own thoughts ingrace
for over there the world is whole again
no wars, no diseases, no hatred of men on each face
sewing stars on God's breast, let us whisper Amen !
Open doth my heart and through thine own hold true
like the northward river of cane that flows through me
keep me aligned to your light and I will never be blue
as long as I have you close, I will always be free
Open doth my soul and thine own breath bequeath
gage me in dear moon, for I hunger here beneath
They stand tall like a monument, the wayfarer’s journey guide
Rough stones shaped into human form, the meaning to unhide,
Inuits first carefully piled these stones, the meaning becomes clear,
Traditionally “you are on the right path” or “someone was here”.
These unworked stones were used for survival and a method to communicate,
Mountain passages or an open channel, the stone placement was your fate.
A cache of food was near an Inukshuk without arms or one with anthers attached,
For the lost hunter in the Arctic, their beckoning and comfort was unmatched.
These rocks are used for navigation, the right direction to select,
They can also signify a memorial, a quiet place of respect,
Or mark where the spirits abide or where the fish can be found,
Think- the amount of information provided, without uttering a sound.
Winter 2010, in Vancouver, it became the official Olympic mascot,
“In the likeness of a human” is the modern meaning, now it’s thought.
I am no expert on these stones but driving northward, I keep a watchful look,
And respect the stone monument there to welcome you, the Inuit Inukshuk
Written July 30, 2011
For “Stoned Contest”
Sponsor Catie Lindsey