Long Novices Poems
Long Novices Poems. Below are the most popular long Novices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Novices poems by poem length and keyword.
You see them parked by the base lodge,
often still in the bright of day,
big, tracked machines that will ensure
the snow is nice when you come to play.
A wide-arced plow across the front,
and broad tank-treads on either side,
large windows mounted high above
in the cabin where people drive.
A roto-tiller on the back,
or a long and carpet-like sweep,
with weight to crush through any crust,
to find the ice, then slay and reap.
Most skiers just call them groomers,
though that word has…connotations,
and every day (save powder days)
we show our appreciation.
Turning a lumpy, windblow mess
into the smoothest corduroy,
grinding blue ice to granular
so it no longer can annoy,
and crushing through the skiers bane,
the woe we call ‘breakable crust.’
These vertical Zambonis do
make it quite nice for all of us.
They started as such little things,
truck-sized with triangle tracks,
they lacked the weight and lacked the tech
to mount that much of an attack.
But they grew into behemoths
that still can turn fast, on a dime,
only once have I ridden one,
shocked by the smoothness of the ride.
Though they sometimes smell of diesel,
and come as shocks to novices,
most skiers soon are thankful for
all of the service that they give.
Be it carving out halfpipe walls,
pushing big snow piles around,
lugging skiers to back-country,
or smoothing the bunny slope down;
it’s all thanks to this big machine
bringing all the white stuff to heal,
and yes, I’ve asked, their insurance
won’t let customers take the wheel…
be lucky enough to find love
with one person
and fortunate enough
to become friends
seems it's not worth the mentioning
when all your relationship
comes to an end
aint worth much of nothing
when it seems everything has changed
when you start feeling
like your lover has become your enemy
they say you began acting
strange
let him know
get let the feelings go
she aint never loved you
he been around the
world
made a lot of friends
and never had a special someone
she start talking about you
behind your back
and people start acting dumb
leave her be
aint much to it
if she aint real all the time
strange things happen
when the ones you love don't
keep you first
priortizing
what real
and your freind is alway
on their mind
just let it be
let go
she don't love you
a story about a man down and out, he never found a worthy partner.
he often find love, but meddling folk wish ing freindship would divide the loyalites
of two poeple, to make conversation. feeling important often mean selling your soul to be seen as wise. often from a novices view it make no sense to be lovd. a fool in his own relation, that is made spectical of for the sake of meanest. break a Heart and be blessed. "Fall in love and miss out on the goodlife" said one woman!
full of music and rhythmic grooves and ballets.
A lovely lady beguiles a luckless lad
Of unwitting others she might have had
The fairest face may be foul of heart
Deft deceit is how now it shall start
Like fated moths drawn to the light
Novices can't tell wrong from right
This lady then connives confusing witch's what
Spins spells that do convince what is not
She conjures him to shirk sacred duty
So sure he's blinded by her beauty
She coyly coddles this beamish boy
His twisted thinking in frabjous joy
He peers deeply down into her soul
Seeing darkness finding blackest coal
It hearkens back to Eden's first sin
Stirs silent shadows sunk long within
Beware that all's not as it seems
Beauty's illusion can change what it means
Purpose or pulchritude which will impress
When next we witness a damsel's distress
Both of us were damaged yet, we tried
literal broken lines.
He was right winged and I was left winged,
I hid under his, we lifted with mine.
Both of us were needy flights, wing singed
like Icarus we fell down
I was left winged and he was right winged
I lifted him and yet he held me down.
Both of us were novices at love,
pigeons with tried, tired roles.
He was right winged and I was left winged,
his sheltering wing took such a toll.
Both of us were desperate for love
so, we nested for some long time.
I was left winged and he was right winged
yet, down we fell, when we wished to climb.
*Dedicated to all the damaged ones who tried.
A community of poets,
from all over the world,
with cultures, beliefs,
and faiths, though different,
can participate in this contest
contributing their viewpoints.
As a common platform,
it treats amateur, professional,
famous and budding poets alike.
Inspired by the flawless poems
written by the luminaries,
the novices try their hand,
so innovatively, giving colors
to their thoughts, feelings and ideas.
Encouraged by the comments
posted by the fellow Soupers,
beginners, through their poems, tell us,
how to make our lives so sublime.
The saying, “A poet can see
what the Sun can’t”, seems right,
if we glance at the poems of every Souper.
If we venture to peep into the Soup,
poems of different genres,
as if soldiers doing march-past,
parade before our eyes, at one place,
quenching the thirsts of
the readers around the globe.
Put Youself In Their Shoes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Placed 1st
______________________________________________________
It was late August, during summer break,
We went to our grandma’s village called Snake.
She had a small house beside a big lake;
She was known to people as Mrs. Blake.
She liked to live in the village alone;
There she loved to live a life of her own.
In her little field, corn seeds, she had sown;
That time to its full size the crop had grown.
Around the field, there was a mountain range…
There we went for harvesting for a change,
Not expecting anything in exchange.
As we were novices the work looked strange!
We worked since morning till evening untired;
The art of harvesting we had acquired.
Our work in the fields everyone admired;
The children of the village got inspired.
After the work, we returned from the field;
People welcomed us with smiles unconcealed.
And honored us by giving us a shield;
To them our whereabouts grandma revealed.
Picture: 3
Date of posting the poem: 8/16/2023
Twenty steps, I thinks not,
The energy I have not got.
Eighteen steps sounds a bit better
Then again I must write a letter.
Sixteen steps is perhaps achievable
But my computer program is retrievable.
Fourteen steps I may make for you,
But you will have to make them too.
Twelve steps, now we are getting somewhere
But where that is I know not, nor care.
Ten steps, yes I' ll think on that,
But I have already walked the cat.
Eight steps, now you are really talking
But what shall I do while I am walking.
Six steps, that sounds more real,
But then again, how do I feel.
Four steps I will think about
But I think I hear a shout.
Two steps, I think that's a dance,
I really don't think there's a chance.
One step and that's to bed,
Activities there, you read my head.
Copyright Mandy M Tams 2011
Not my first Richard but my sixth.
soup lost the first ones when changing something on the site.
when posting still a novices and scared...
Your smiling lips, the gentle unfolding of a flower,
Your presence, a soft caress in our comfy bower,
In your eyes I see the depth and mystery of an ocean.
So glad to stay by your side in endless devotion.
Through all trials of life, you have stood strong.
As an anchor and refuge, you have been with me all along.
With courage, you have faced the challenges of life.
Happy and content I am in life as your wife.
How true, love ripens through the years.
You have gifted me smiles and dipped me in tears.
That was when both of us were novices in the art of love
Now we seek each other’s company like a pair of dove.
Your love is not on full display, sometimes kept hidden
At times by irritation bitten, but alike, you ‘re by love smitten
Your passion is a hidden elixir, but without conditions, given free
I come seeking it as your love is like nectar to a bee.
When your hands are raised to wipe my salty tears,
Your care keeps my fragile life from falling into fears.
Even if I lose my looks and vitality with aging years,
I know you’ll keep loving me and treasure me as yours.
Through the unfolding years, I wish you every bliss,
With a prayer that nothing you crave, you shall miss.
May in your remaining life, happy and blissful days unfold.
May God, keep you fit and send His blessings manifold.
A Solar trims the Earth's waistline,
while Polars bare all the segments,
Springing up those northern steppes leans sublime,
the Vernal Equinox presents,
then, on March 20th, it will shine.
The southern Pole leans the same way,
as the September Equinox appears,
on September, the 22nd day,
though terms mirror a different side as it leers,
it's Summer there, and it's their time to play.
The Winter Solstice 2025 blinks,
the northern Pole hails a Holy day is on,
December 21st freezes the winks,
as the holidays, year-end dawn,
gifts, fireworks, food, and some drinks.
At the southern Pole, they bare it all daily,
as the Summer Solstice, the sun takes sides,
the people are out and about dillydally,
swimming and surfing the tides,
on July 21st, the Cape Town and Rio rally.
The sidereal year is when the planet rounds its Sun star,
and the tropical year, they all straighten out,
though quartered as the calendrical stretched far,
they separate as seasons all about,
named Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, they are.
Astronomically, Equinoxes and Solstices,
Metrologically, they are seasonal sources,
Astro spatial heavenly body's positioned advices,
Metro is a simplistic seasonal of choices,
pros and novices sufficiently entices.
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Other special quest to be announced !
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3/22/19
Number #5 Placement in Contest
The First Annual Poetrysoup Convention Poetry Contest
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