Long Not now Poems
Long Not now Poems. Below are the most popular long Not now by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Not now poems by poem length and keyword.
Elon Musk at 54
Under the sapphire sky, at fifty-four enchanted dawns,
a dreamer weaves his path among constellations of desires,
from the ashes of Pretoria, an ancestral fire ignites, calling us
to Mars, where stars weave promises of light.
With the hands of an alchemist and the soul of a wandering poet, he breaks the boundaries
of the old world, his mind cutting through dogmas like a silver sword,
sculpting new horizons, endlessly asking "Why?",
and the sky answers him with its deep silence, rockets dancing
where gravity loses its spell, and dreams fly free.
Tesla vibrates under his fingers like a harp of lightning,
an electric pulse traverses the universe, while Neuralink whispers:
"The mind is an epic code, and the world is an endless canvas."
On X, his voice thunders like an echo from the depths, a laugh and a cry,
fighting the shadows of bureaucracy, the dogmas that would pin him down.
No chain can bind him, nor fear of the infinite void,
he is a pilgrim of the cosmos, with a soul of fire that burns
with the desire to see beyond the horizon, to make humanity
multiplanetary, not just dust scattered in the cosmic wind.
At fifty-four stellar spirals, with eyes set upon the universe,
Musk becomes a beacon for those who dare to secretly dream,
from chaos and doubt, he builds a road to the future,
always asking "Why not now?" under the eternal sky of dreams.
The limb elongates in the bodies flayed attempt at survival.
Internal struggle, intelligently struggling in the maintaining of oxygen in a Bold yet desperate display. Feeble gravities
Lunging, Lurching behind from within where wheels turn till a grasp,
grips a palm heavy & ten digits stick.
Heaven sent on Godspeed Hell-bound down to stand dim-witted, in await on the Devils' wing.
War-torn legless soldiers tip-toe down the shadow of death.
Then 'Battle Panthers' pounce sunk down well past dawn,
Commence the plan, sharp with a thin edge.
Approach them cold, except.
Accept, Blood flow in the shade of an Assault Machine.
Dust, sleep in those eyes.
Bloodshot and eyesores alike,
litter the land to become paint to my landscapes elicit bashfulness banished to the whitens life behind snowcapped eyes of the irrevocably blind.
Boulders retained locked in pain staking strain.
bare shoulders maintain Bolder in a crushing composure.
In the embrace of enemies,
On the eve' of deceit.
Decompress in a vacuum space, tight, beneath a new peak
a Zizith thread, a Zenith thread.
Found a home where the avalanches' onslaught shifts before rest.
"It's Murder on the Knees".
Got to try it sometime.
If not us then who?
If not now then soon.
Bold Favors; Bold Flavors.
Ever wanted to take a ride
Not now but someday.
To cool down not to run away
To take time and communicate with your pride
for it to bear with you in a certain way,
Hoping it listens to you one day.
Or ever felt like you could stride
Take a break, go on a self-holiday
Many say it is an internal getaway
But cannot because you have already tried.
If only I may,
brief you about that day.
I put my pride aside
as I discovered that I will be on a subway
with no place to stay.
Fast as a speedboat I changed my mind
as it was and still is what I obey
And hope to never disobey
Since it always has my right side.
Pushcat has gone missing, where on earth could he be?
He usually greets me at the door, miaws as soon as he sees me.
I got him on my birthday, in August last year.
I loved him straight away, striped like a tiger, black and grey.
Pussy had died three months before,at only eight years old.
I found her under the deck by following my nose. Natural causes I suppose.
Not nearly as affectionate, she was white with black ears and toes.
Kept to herself more, while he will kiss me on the nose.
He's almost a year now and strutting his stuff.
Perhaps if I had taken him to the vet..I would not now be writing this poem.
No!...Wait....
He's home!!
The doctor came; he said very clearly, "a handful of days, if nearly".
I looked him squarely, and then most directly, "time is what you make it".
The doctor left, he did not come back, yet he was sure and shook his head.
I sat alone for a while, in a chair near the table,
by the small window, the curtains drawn.
No family to call, no friends to consider,
no reason to worry, just time to be gone.
Thoughts of yesterday, almost empty,
too long put away, just passing regret.
Sick inside from this or that, an empty, kind of sad.
Shadows danced at the edges of things,
like phantoms of the unseen,
I am ready…
I closed my eyes, nothing happened.
I did this again, nothing happened.
I opened my eyes, something happened.
There on the table, it caught at my eye
The book of the truth, my grandfather’s proof.
It was a…
Knock at the door, A call on the phone, A letter from tomorrow.
It came at just the right time,
not a storm to match mine, but… a whisper…
“I am not done with you.
Stand up and be tall, shout at the wall.
There is no reason to wait”
I read and I read, I learned and learned.
More than both put together, and still I burned.
I found my knees on the ground, and prayers on my lips.
I am small, you are tall, I am sin and you are grace.
Now I am ready. Peace on my face.
Amen.
Lord show us the way
That we can best celebrate your day,
Should it be fun
For all of us to feel as one?
Or should we be sad
Knowing that we may at times have been a little bad?
May we please drink,
So that into depression we do not now sink,
Aware of course
That too much imbibed turns our chatter into morse.
How about the food,
Or would too much eating be quite rude?
Forget that thought,
As we need consume these lovely things we bought,
Also these folk
Will badly need the victuals for all the
alcohol they soak.
Sorry - now back on track,
Forgive the decorum I so very clearly lack;
But it is a joy
To share this feast with loved ones and on that I shan't be coy,
For while it is your day,
There is one further thing I must now say:
It wouldn't be the same
If we didn't come together in your name.
Thus please forgive any transgression
During what will surely be a long and roudy session,
For we toast but once a year
In the presence of so many we hold dear.
Hence let us raise our glass,
Before yet another Christmas simply pass,
To hail your glorious birth
And such a great excuse for this unbridled mirth.
Whilst listening out for the pitching and
cresting frequency of the turbines and
blades from the wind farm upon
Frankenstein's castle on the hill
Mistress of the pale rose deftly ballet
dancing the breeze from the inside out
of a green mile prison bar
I want I wish I cast my net like a fisherman
in famine times from the whence the sun
comes up and later drops
As this years crops have failed the once
plentiful fertile soil is now gathering up dust
underfoot from the elders dancing and
pleading to God to save the day and
for the rain to come
So gather all yee faithful
Put on and dress up in your Sunday best
Spray yourself in floral scent
And let the world outside relent
And only for a minute if you can
Find and depress the off button
And switch off your computer please
And let it sleep as well
For it's you i have come to visit and see
And take a journey of discovery and
revisit back to the future past to a
foreign time not so long ago
To a land where people used to take
the time to stop and talk and enquire
of one another something as simple as
How are you and all of yours doing
Are you in fact ok
Is everything alright
We have all the time in the world
You now have my complete attention
Give this dog a bone
I don't bite
I promise I will only patiently listen to you
dictate and tell your story in which or
whatsoever manner of your choice
And together we can write the poem
of your life in word's this far
Because if not now than when is
this world in more need of real
life super heroes
Who do not feel the need to hide behind
mask's or wear a suit or cape in order
to do good
They battle weary face a sword with
the only armour disposed know unto
them to wield
A heart infused with truth , purity
and innocence a pen and 1 left and
1 right long sleeve
To write this stain in permanent
coagulating blood
Enjoy your victory whilst it lasts
For you not only do you know what
you have done
Nor not the consequences of what
is to come that can never be undone
That fate alone for you awaits
Because all I know about life is that
it's fleeting all of us are merely visitors
passing through
Whilst death on the other hand
Isn't
THE 12.12 SECS FASTEST WOMAN ALIVE
Life exudes in it's harshest of complexities:
I have built this machine with bleeding hands,
shaped her to slice the wind,
shined her as melanin with polish and sweat,
balanced her with feel in the cold chill
and powered her in heat with iron and steel.
I will become one with her and give her honor.
She will mount the wind like the Falcon.
She will learn speed from the Cheetah
and know no fear for this is where her spirit is free.
So I put on my running shoes.
Tonight I can't hide as I pace myself, breathing,
Letting go with every stride.
The melody of my footsteps and rhythm of my breaths,
Have synchronized into nothing in the past;
A calm stillness inside my head says "...but not now!"
I'm light as a feather so I let myself fly.
The world is a blur, but tonight... I'm alive!!!
On our marks, my competitors hits the track.
Rocketing away as the wind hits our bodies,
The blistering wind slaps our faces enroute the finish line,
We run with every throttle twist taken in time.
I shaved 0.08 secs off the previous 100m hurdles world record
set by Kendra Harrison (12.20s) in 2016.
Now I'm the world champion standing tallest,
And tears start to cascade from my eyes,
The National anthem reminded me:
"The labour of our heros past shall never be in vain..."
But now I'm the hero and my labour has paid off.
“My mum would tell my dad I was going to church
...I sneaked to practice or tell him I was going to a school debate
while I went to an out-of-state competition...", I reminisce.
But my father's ferocious fury couldn't fright me,
“My dad got really mad...when he found out (I was running),
burnt all my training gear and told mum
that’s the last time he wanted to see me in a stadium."
Thinking back how swiftly those years passed by,
I close my eyes and bite my lip, try so hard not to cry.
"Arise Oh Compatriots, Nigeria's call obey": The rest is history.
You were always such a scrapper, a raging thunderstorm -
Tobi Amusan, our pride, a phenomenon without measure,
Record breaker, pacesetter & Inter(National) hero.
Stay steadfast...follow the simmering sun
And undoubtedly be the best you can.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©July2022
As the Robins dart across the grass
Ignoring the clouds of gray
Cold breeze and cold dry air
Every so often they bob their heads
Eating a bug or seed something to me unseen
The Redbuds that in the wild do grow
Begin to show their true colors
Along the roads as about our lives we go
Awaking soon to different shades of green
They'll fill the artist's canvas of woods
Each tree shows its beautiful or knarled
Structure that's not now hidden by leaf or flower
Some being stately and others
Seem to be dower some look as
Though being crownded or shaped
By ice storm or children playing on tender limbs
Soon the full canvas will be painted
With all the colors of spring bringing
To mind love and romance of the springtime
A time of sunny days with just enough warmth
Color, aroma, and scent of spring flowers
To fill all hearts with those desires..amore
Form:
Darling, put the kettle on
Do it yourself, I’m busy hon
I thought you could have fixed that gate
Not now honey, I’m with my mate
Just popping next door love
You lying toad, you mean the pub
Honey, what we eating for dinner tonight?
Well I thought you’d get a curry, right!
Snuggle up beside me sweet
Not a chance, with your smelly feet
I’ll play some music nice and low
No, I’ll miss the east Enders show
Honey, well I’m off to bed
Okay, then, sweet dreams she said
Two hours later, she comes upstairs
To find him naked, standing there
What a sight, she thinks aloud
As he stands there smug, and proud
Well, I thought we’d have a little fun!
Not tonight, I have a headache hon!!!
Goodnight
© Copyright 26th November 2010 K.C.Leake