Long Oil Poems

Long Oil Poems. Below are the most popular long Oil by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oil poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Ducks In Oil

Ducks in Oil


Ducks in oil, not a painting. The sad expressions on their faces. I never knew a duck
could cry.! Ducks in oil looking like bad clay molds, I know if they could they would ban
B.P. to Hell. All they can do is wait to die.... and slowly waddle against the
wall, condemned to death from an oil spill. Refusing their last meal. One looked at me and
said with his eyes; I don't have a soul. But I had my life. And this big corporation of
mirth, has failed to see my worth...The look he gave me said it all. If He could, he
would, .... ban B.P from the planet earth.! That's when I saw a duck cry.


Little Oil and Five Stones

I.

I dreaded those days before they came
When I had to look at you laying down, weak as I stared at your frame
And many treasures that couldn't make you stand up
Glory is nothing to those gone, packed up
And I prayed you would make heaven upon your return
Thought nothing about the weight if I had to carry your bones to the promised land
Having no power to call you back as I listened to life's crude tones on command
I'll bring you back in grand style if God willed it so
Though all I've got is a little oil and five stones


II.

I'm not that king of ages
I'm not that old widow miraculously made rich
I depend on God like they did
A light reborn without doubts and dismay
I carry my cross, following Jesus
Without any more dallying, I win every course
Running to win against hoarse waves
I'm neither the wisest nor the best
Neither the bravest nor the greatest
I have nothing else to give but all it takes
No other show of faith and grace but my little oil and five stones


III.

I have a hope and a song for my times of trouble
I have a shoulder and a gong for my times of pain
I'm not that king of ages
I'm not that old widow with gained heritages
I'm not better than they all 
But in the midst of dirges and storms of tears
My little oil will overflow
And by one from my stones, these giants are overthrown
I'll be made whole, transformed in God's tomorrow
Separated from tares the evils have sown
I'll be counted amongst the holy seeds, a godly breed
Bald as a rock with the Spirit of the ancient Word
And I'll still relish the peace bought by a blood stained sword

Nanook Of The North

When not out clubbing
hey-ho the merry oh
at night with the Inuit
I suspect by intuit
an intrepid Inuk named Nanook
a-hunting walrus he would go
with his trusty harpoon
traipsing 'cross the ice and snow
then when paddling afloat he went
in the harsh Arctic environment
to keep out the bitter cold and damp
in the very bottom of his boat
there was a fiery seal oil lamp
which eventually burned a hole
and without trace into oblivion he sank
with nothing to mark the place
in those deep dark blue depths so dank
even so who can ever forget
this tall tale chilling yet true
as his demise to the pithy proverb gave rise
'You can't have your kayak and heat it too'
Form: Rhyme

The Oil of Life

The oil of life

when one writes about minorities 
no one wants to know, the next page is about knitting, please.
We do not like to read about losers
and our responsibility for their failure.
A tsunami came rolled over the landscape, changed it
and the language, unstoppable misery for the people
who lived there, but it brought us the automobile. 
The Palestinians have lost most of their land and now
they are losing more, except their dignity.
We don´t want to know the next page about knitting, please.
Let us read about the super-rich and their yachts
and Rolls Royce, we like to see the pictures of them 
in magazines, their villas and life mode-
we dislike the truth, and it demands us to sit up straight 
and think about the world and the orangutan losing
their habitat to palm oil.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Diggleberry Oil

I STUMBLED UPON THIS BY MISTAKE
IT BECAME A REASON FOR ME TO INFORM
THE WORLD ABOUT " THE FOOLS OF HALTRIUM"
A GROUP OF PEOPLE WHO'S MOTTO IS
" TRICK'EM: TRICK'EM: TRICK'EM!"
THEY ARE GROUP OF UNSUGGESSFUL ACTORS, COMEDEINS,
ACTRESSES AND " HARDLUCK CAFFERS"
WHO BEFREIND PEOPLE AND FOOL THEM INTO
DOING CRAZY STUNTS, WHILE THEIR 
CAMERAS ARE ROLLING.
 THESE PEOPLE OFTEN ARE THAN MADE INTO STARS
WHEN THESE PEOPLE SELL THEIR WORK'S
 TO BIG MOVIE PRODUCERS, WHO USE THESE
 BASIC LIKELYNESS' IN THEIR MOVIES. CUTTING COST.
FOR EXAMPLE, A GUY IS HIRED AT A FABRIC FACTORY
WHEN THE SECRTARY BECOMES ILL, HE'S ASKED TO
SIT IN FOR THE WOMAN.
HE'S GIVEN A SCRIPT AND TOLD TO CALL EACH PERSON
ON THE ORDER, AND WARN THEM OF THE FUNGUS GROWING ON
THEIR ROOFS, AND HOW THE NEW PRODUCT CALLED" BLEEP-AHROLL"
CAN REMOVE THE FUNGUS CAUSED BY WILDDOGS AND HUMID AIR.
HE SENDS A GUY OUT TO INSPECT THE ROOF AND SHOWS THE PEOPLE THE RESULT OF RISING TEMEPURES AND THE EFFECTS OF TOXIC AND DOGS, WHO CREATE FUNGUS THAT RISES IN THE AIR AND SETTLES ON THE ROOF.
HE GIVES THEM AN OITMENT TO PUT ON THEIR DOGS AND A CHEMICAL TO SPAY ON THEIR ROOFS. ITS A SHAM HONEY !
Form: Ballad


Premium Member Boreas by John William Waterhouse 1902 Oil on Canvas

It’s not that I am languid, more that I am chagrined.
So disappointed to be met by this dreadful north wind.
I am on my way to see him, and I will look so disheveled.
I am convinced the god Boreas is inclined to be bedeviled.

They say I have a porcelain face and that I never smile.
This is not my usual demeanor my intention is to beguile.
My soft chiffon garment intended to drape my delicate form.
Is now windswept without hope of keeping me warm. 

I hold my scarf, my slender fingers holding it in place.
The daffodil I wear remains to draw attention to my face.
My ruby red lips catch the light as they shine like wine. 
Hoping my raven hair will still shimmer and appear divine.

Blurred from the gusty wind are my lovely blue eyes. 
They say I have undeniable beauty, now I feel otherwise.
My slate-colored scarf billows to resemble a conch shell.
The blackbird fighting against the wind isn’t doing well.

Soon I will be with my dear one in the safety of indoors.
My resistance to this harsh north wind, all for a good cause.
The movement depicted not allowing treachery to advance.
Shows strong resistance between nature and romance.
Form: Ekphrasis

Premium Member Oil Spill

Note this poem was written some time ago but I was sick and deleted my site.  I have been patiently reposting my poems since 9 October 2000.

On November 13, 2002. The Prestige, one of twelve tanks burst during a storm off Galicia, in northwestern Spain.  No help was forthcoming and by November 19, the ship split in half.  20 million gallons were spilled into the sea.  


Beneath the heavy dark clouds,
the storm broke.
An oil-filled tanker sank
spewing black lakes of murderous slime.
 
What a giant "Prestige"!

Despite the roar of untamed waves
there was a deadly hush over the ocean.
A low death knell sang a purgatory of pain,
as contaminated birds of gulls, orioles, kestrels 
squawked their last dirge:

What a giant "Prestige"!

Too late men stretched their ingenuity,
a desire to save and spare
the livelihood of so many families
that sailed the oil-spilled seas,
where baby dead fish dotted the surface,
sands and rocks tainted with death.
Elsewhere engineers burned their chemical gases
and smoke escaped from the earth's fragile shell.
 
We all have our "Prestige"!

Written 2016

Change My Oil

change my oil 
let my weakness 
be  my strength
cos am thirsty
for a change in a 
time when it is anb
only choice 

change my oil 
let my plead
be my reality
when am depress
let my weakness 
be turn to strength
let life take over
the air I perceive
till i become a change
my self 

change my oil
for the old is past 
yet some past refuses
to go 
cos every time it flashes
a memory I wish is gone 
despite it's a past 
yet it pain still 
beat my flesh so 
I pray let my oil 
be change with peace

change my oil
my joy must be endless
if my oil is new 
cos am willing to be 
by God's side
were truth will be born again
were I can only but be 
free and happy 
so again I pray oh God
change my oil
Form: Epic

ANOINT ME WITH OIL

I stand before you Lord 
I surrender control 
I bow down to you Lord 
I acquiesce to you my soul 

anoint me with oils 
grant me perfect peace 
Anoint me with oils
let my faith in You increase 

let Your righteousness and mercy 
In me prevail 
let Your Holy Spirit in me 
continuously dwell 

anoint me with oils 
grant me perfect peace 
anoint me with oils 
let my faith in You increase 

consecrate me Lord
shield me from the enemy 
make me over, take me over 
with your boundless energy
eradicate any inequities 
set me up right
shape me, remake me to now 
be acceptable in Your sight 

anoint me with oils 
grant me your grace 
my Messiah, my Redeemer 
perfectly in place

anoint me with oils 
grant me perfect peace 
anointment with oils 
let my faith in You increase 
.
I accede to you Lord 
with obedient behavior 
I thank you Lord
for giving me Jesus as my savior 

anoint me with oils 
grant me your grace 
my Messiah my Redeemer 
perfectly in place
 
anointment with oils 
grant me perfect peace 
anoint me with oils
let my faith in You increase
god
Form: Ballad

Oil Spill

Pelicans
Dipped in a hard oil exteriors in LOUSIANA ARE SUFFERING
Why must natures angels suffer from human destruction
Their mouths quieted by the fact that their vocal chords are voiceless
and they choke on liquids humans define as precious
But their eyes like a crystal balls show that their hope is beginning to deteriorate
Their angelic feathers now drooping like 10000 lb heavy weights
Agonized by poisons they grieve the acknowledgement of what a beautiful life they could have had............. before we took it without consent
Lackluster from exhaustion they hang their heavy heads
Defeated, is their miracle coming to save them yet?
Such graceful beauteous creatures lay with their feet in the air many are inanimate
Still they hang on defiant against the weary arm of death
Awaiting to soar higher than the sunset
© Laura Hew  Create an image from this poem.

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