Long On the lookout Poems
Long On the lookout Poems. Below are the most popular long On the lookout by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long On the lookout poems by poem length and keyword.
LIFE IS A FLICKER IN THE WINDOW
“Life is like a flame’s flicker in the window, the window of time. One moment the spark is there, and the next it’s gone."
When you look at a flame, what do you see?
I see a flame. Not just any flame, a bright flame looking for more room to explore and to expand its life knowledge upon.
I see a flame of self-confidence, and the will to believe in what you believe to be right. What is right isn’t always popular, but what’s popular isn’t necessarily right either.
I see a flame of a true-hearted soul. A soul who not only lights up your world when your lost in the dark, and need a hand; but a soul who will hold your hand all the way to the end of the tunnel, and straight on til morning.
I see a flame of born seeker. Someone who is seeking to know all there is in the world, but doesn’t have enough time to do so. Someone who is always on the lookout for something new to expand upon and never stops looking til all possibilities have been breached.
Finally, I see a flame of life. The flame of life that gives birth to everyone, and everything; yet hold the ability to not only create, but to destroy as well. The flame that in one flick of the flames light, can bring people together, or break people apart. A flame that can help people understand, or make people discriminate for they don’t understand.
As some wise person once said, ‘Man is not built for defeat. A man can be crushed and destroyed, but never defeated. Defeat is not a time to think about what you do not have, but a time to think of ways to do something with what you do have.’
There are many different ways to look at a flame, and many different beliefs about it. But the flame is an ancient being, to which holds more knowledge than can ever be perceived by a mere mortal.
Reach out to grab it by force, and it will burn you. Reach out to touch it with a gentle hand, and it will be absorbed into your very soul, and only ignite when is needed to provide the confidence to be yourself, and not let anyone tell you otherwise.
It is all about how you choose to approach opportunity when it is burning in front of your eyes, waiting to find a new anchor to this world, that will let it burn for eternity and beyond.”
- Gianna Hogen
Liberty has been taken hostage, abducted in many parts
Of the world
Freedom is often smothered, suffocated in many hearts
In this world
Both are often used as steady stepping stones
By demagogues and fibbers to break the bones
Of patriots or sincere citizens yearning for justice
Respect, humanity and peace
Freedom was supposed to be the beacon of democracy
What happened? Nobody knows. Hypocrisy
Is a fatal contagion, which is ruining our society
Like a flashy oxymoron in an esoteric ecstasy
Be alert! Be vigilant! Freedom means
Different things for different folks
Liberty is like an abused substance
Where repulsive recidivists or wannabe crooks
Use unimaginable decoy to bamboozle innocent citizens
Be aware of nebulous nuances or weird connotations
Be on the lookout for spurious explanations
Freedom and liberty for all are about being free
Like eagles in the clouds, and the squirrels on the tree
Shaking small branches, while lightly groping trunks and leaves
Always be aware of the artful dodgers and the slick thieves
That’s a voodoo ploy, a trick to hypnotize the body
And to annihilate the very essence of the soul
Cry foul, speak out! A human is not a remanufactured tool
An unceremoniously born again or an uneducated fool
Freedom is audaciously very expensive, not obviously cheap
Freedom is a paradox for countless poltroons who peep
And weep like crocs swimming in a swap full of evil creeps
Beep your horn if you believe that everyone should be free
And be aware of the camouflaged criminals in the quarry
Blow the horn again, because innocent people don’t belong
In jail. I wish seeing an evil transgressor swallowing his tongue
Simply to live how it is to lose freedom or being hurt wrong
Because liberty is about the truth, freedom is about justice
And honest individuals are about love, respect and peace
Sweet freedom is like vital oxygen and vitamins for the body
And liberty is about bona fide hope and happiness for humanity
Liberty has been immorally taken hostage
And freedom belongs on the zenithal stage
Holding the eternally effulgent torch
That no pariahs shall ever touch.
Copyright © March 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry
Beneath the city the river fishing is good.
I roam with tackle and pole below those wiggling tapeworms
Wound around the cement underbelly of bridges
Devouring the guts of the city’s glamour
Down here where shadows are long as green moss
And the voices of old black dudes echoes to casts
“Damn motherer, you crossed my line!”
Splash.
To catch catfish on a wad of bread is a worthy fight.
It takes shoulder chest and wrist and it’s not just the fish
But the current of the Grand River pulling us over
That sucks us in like a Thanksgiving ladle
Into a whirlpool of brown gravy spilled on a dinner table.
The trouble with catfish is that they swallow the hook
Beyond the use of pliers
And when they’re too small
We cut the line
With a lack of guilt like Old Testament God
Throwing the creature back
Hoping for a miracle.
Logs are tipped over along the gooey shores
And upon them painted turtles sleep
Sunning like leprosy sores.
Even from down here in the cool mist umbrella from summer
We can see the smokestack vapor
Twisting overhead like a genie rubbed from its lamp
Thin at its head thick at its feet still stuck in its copper mother
Arms outstretched like a Christ-cloud spooking the sun.
There are other mysterious pipes
Lips rust red as strawberries
Bloomed from the banks dripping silver
While mouthing a lullaby
To the muck
Like a whore at the end of her exhausting shift.
A railroad bridge rattles to life
Swollen by the axles of its returning soul
A freight train pounding out the Blues
A rhythm meant for bass and drums
That part we don’t sing
But the swing that keeps our foot stomping
And in that noise
Software girls flutter about like orange ribbons
Untied from the hair of the downtown towers
Drifting along the river trails at lunch
Jogging in pony tails and pink shorty shorts
Fingertips stuck into their cotton ears
Ever on the lookout for us
The creeps.
The trick is to not make eye contact
I mean us with them
The fishermen the engineers the long forgotten wrenches
Screwing cranks turning knobs yanking hooks from helpless fish
Drilling the pylons through chemical gold
That holds up this magnificent city.
Going For A Job Interview
The moment of truth comes, when one comes face to face with a prospective boss…
Having secured an appointed date for interview, it is time to meet the boss…
This learned young man is well prepared in his spirits, mind and body…
For this day is the much anticipated date to define his immediate destiny…
Freshly minted and on the lookout for a dream job offer in his field of studies…
His hopes are high, with a gamut of feelings of trepidation, anticipation and anxiety …
Getting a job is a typical priority for many a graduate after years of books and studies..
But the process of looking around for a dream job and landing it is far from easy…
For a wholesome week, this day has been crowding into his daily thoughts and routine….
Over and over again he has mentally run through his expected replies to incoming queries..
Will this window of opportunity be in the right one for a youthful graduate such as he…
Will his mannerism, answers and personality be up to the expectations of the boss to be…
He is well dressed for the occasion, most appropriate for the formality of the occasion…
Textbooked details are well in place, looking sharp with not a hair or attire was out of place…
His newly bought tie is snuggly attached to his high collar, well he looks like an executive-to-be…
Looking smart and most presentable, document folder in his hand, he’s well and ready….
Grabbing the car keys , he gave a perfunctory goodbye wave as he strode to the family car …
With fingers crossed, the father wished him the best of luck and whispered a silent prayer ….
There you go, son, you have to make your own way, may God bless you at the interview…
Have faith in yourself, you are well prepared and you are at your best as you can possibly be…
Waving goodbye and with a big smile of encouragement, he watched junior drive away…
Stiffling the rising inner glow of pride that that young man is now big enough to seek his way…
The next few hours will be crucial, will the outcome of his job interview be successful….
Will the call yet to come be one of jubilation or will it be one of deflated enthusiasm…?
CAT AND SQUIRREL
By Curtis Johnson
The squirrel was in the tree, and the cat on the ground. There was nothing special about that scene except that on this particular spring morning in 2014, there was something different about the encounter that I was observing. The squirrel wanted down, the cat wanted up, and the cat seemed to be saying, “Only if you can get past me with the fight of your life”. And the squirrel? Why, I suspect that he was saying, “I’m in no hurry”. So, as far as I could tell, there was no dummy in the tree nor on the ground. Though it appeared that each wanted to determine the outcome of this standoff, I witnessed a lot of patience above and below.
The cat seemed relaxed, which seems to be the stance of most cats that I have ever observed. On the other hand, I have never witnessed a squirrel that I would say was relaxed, and that is quite a contrast from the cat. It seems that squirrels are constantly in the "run for your life mode”. Their eyes are constantly on the lookout for what might be lurking to do them harm; and their little tails seem to always be in “a state of wiggle”.
I observed, watched, and waited patiently just like the cat and squirrel. I don’t know how long the two of them had been in this stance before I appeared, but I watched from the front roe seat of my living room window for at least 10 minutes, hoping to see at least a good chase. The cat jumped up the tree trunk a few times and fell back down. I suspect he was either too old to climb the tree, or maybe he figured the squirrel was not worth the effort. Every time that the cat made a motion in his direction, the squirrel would simply go higher or jump to another limb. The squirrel did not seem worried in the least, as long as he stayed focused upon the cat.
My wait to see some kind of wild kingdom action was in vain, because the cat decided that his patience had run its course. So he slowly walked away. And of course the squirrel was now free and clear to go on its merry way
cj08252014
I’m moving down a forest trail,
wooden canyon on my right side,
above, on thermals, raptors glide,
always inspires without fail.
I hear a rustle before me,
and wonder just who that could be?
Perhaps it is an Indian,
face painted, war club on his back,
looking down at the dirt track,
the path taken by his foemen,
they took his woman in a raid,
his bow will flash, and they will pay…
Maybe it’s a militiaman,
on the lookout for that same brave,
the British stirred them to a rage,
bribed them to devastate the land,
dirty tricorn and old musket,
but he’s rarely had to use it…
Or could it be a long-hunter,
clad in leather, fringe, and fur hat,
rifle and necessary bag,
seeing it the duff is disturbed,
tracking an elk across the hills,
hoping tonight he’ll eat his fill…
Perhaps it is a pioneer,
just passing through on his way west,
his only clothes are on his chest,
his destination isn’t near,
looking for land that he can farm,
clear it with just strength of arm…
Maybe it is a lumberjack,
timber-cruising for trees to fell,
which ones to cut, his eyes can tell,
some of them broader than his back,
snaps is suspenders on his plaid,
they’ll have work for all of the labs…
Or a uniformed park ranger,
tired from long miles on his feet,
these winding trails his daily beat,
always looking out for danger,
knowing poachers frequent this place,
they’ll pay the price for unfair play…
It could be a tourist family,
father wrangling eager kids,
who dash about (like he once did!),
so many things they want to see,
his wife carries the little one
who snoozes in the mid-day sun…
Though it could be some teenager,
even now she’s glued to her phone,
why did she even leave her home?
Takes selfies to show off later,
Is she awed by the canyon’s drop?
or is it just another prop…
But it is none on these things, no,
it is an ambling black bear,
we’ve caught each other unaware,
neither seems to know where to go,
He’s as surprised by this as me,
was he also caught up in daydream?
posted--no swimming, strong under tows
no guard on duty
what kind of life is that, no swimming
it’s my life and I don’t need a guard
I’m taking the sign down
He spotted a another sign, ‘no boating’
He had his boat and launched it.
Still another sign was noted ‘no alcohol’
He opened a six pack.
Would you believe another sign existed, ‘no fishing’
He consumed the beer while he was fishing.
Caught a tuna and hoisted it into the boat
brought it back to shore and into his truck
other tuna’s saw what took place
and were angry over their loss
they left a sign on the beach
‘drunken man named Charlie took a tuna’
the fish market learned of this situation
after they had just bought his tuna
which was not of good quality. They
notified other markets to be on the lookout
next week Charlie came back to fish
out in the boat he saw water filling his boat
there were holes at the bottom
the other tuna’s alerted swordfish of the capture
they pierced the boat to sink
frantically he waved for help
people on shore called the police
once onshore he was read his rights
for breaking the rules while under the influence
at court the judge spoke
‘sorry Charlie only the best tuna becomes Starkist”
‘you drank while in a boat fishing’ ‘you violated
the postings disrupted a family of tuna’
‘how do you plea’
well I don’t want to explain to the court how I pee
but if I can go to the back room I will tell you
the courtroom howled
‘order in the court, this man is disorderly’
the verdict came down
Charles was given a one month sentence
for violations of rules of fish and game
intoxicated on public soil
destroying public property
and operating a boat in a restricted area
Charlie sat in his cell and saw a sign posted
smoking permitted only with a guard
there was a guard on duty who said
“only nice fishermen get to have a camel”
he then received his lunch on a tray,
tuna fish sandwiches!!
and a note ‘sorry Charlie only the best
inmates get Starkist'
They noticed from the time when they were young…from before they all could speak…their father’s way of looking at the world was different…some would say…unique.
Every morning he’d open the front door…look out over the land and to the sky above…then he’d turn around and say… “Today…children…it looks a lot like love.”
Rain and shine, good and bad he believed this is the world as God designed it…
"But she also filled it up with love." He’d say, "And it’s up to us to find it!”
Which is why every day he was on the lookout for the love he constantly spoke of…
and every day, wherever he went, he would call attention to that love.
He’d point out a smile exchanged by strangers…watching anybody share…his children were amazed…how he’d find love anywhere.
He’d show them a mother comforting a crying baby…a family holding hands…and slowly the more love that he’d show them…they more they came to understand.
Once they learned this lesson…once they knew what they were looking for…they began to find love in places where they hadn’t noticed it before.
It showed up at family dinners, good night kisses in their rooms…it showed up in the rain that helped the flowers bloom.
It showed up in people helping other people…in a wave to someone they didn't know.
It showed up anywhere they happened to be…and anywhere they’d go
The more they began to see love in their life and in the world around them
the more they began to understand how love envelopes and surrounds them.
Thanks to their father’s teachings…and those seeds of love he’d sown..
they learned how love makes every little thing in life…glow…with a beauty all its own
Which is why their own children…from before they all could speak…
saw their parent’s way of looking at the world as different…some would say…unique.
When every morning they open their front door…
look out over the land and to the sky above…
then then turn around and say…
“Today…children…it looks a lot like love.”
Here on poetrysoup, the newest poem,
pops up on-screen
like the latest off-shoot, or newborn babe
or like a newest floral bud,
in the orchards of poetry.
Or like a fresh wave of words
crashing and cresting upon the turf
For all and sundry to view, enjoy and surf!
Or ha ha, even like linguistic kernels
that pop like popcorn
in the crockery of poetrysoup
with different flavors to choose from,
to reveal what's been cooking in the minds.
Some indeed spiced-up,
some spicy
some acidic or buttery
all of 'em', more or less with melody.
Or the newest poetry is
to put it more exquisitely,
is a fragrant flower just bloomed
in the bedecked bowers of poetry
Or to say, each latest poem pops on screen
Like pop goes the weasel
For poems pop up like meerkats
but on the lookout for friends instead of foes.
Ah, and then they might wait
for the honey and jam of comments
and perhaps even the bitter gourd of criticism,
for healthy constructive criticism
is like any bitter pill vital to health.
You're lucky if the doctors of poetry
refrain from prescribing chits
of bitter pills to swallow,
Or opted for sugar-coated ones
for which you heave a sigh of relief
you didn't receive, blunt sharp critique!
As I prefer sugar coated pills in all matters.
Yet if they do administer the wrong dose
out of sheer bias and prejudice,
you can always give them a taste of their own medicine,
if you wish to be vengeful and impudent
Or you can forgo, overlook and be lenient
For my poetry is meant to be tasteful
and gentleness is nice.
Harshly insensitive reviews can leave
a sour after taste in the mouth.
As I'm habituated to taking sugar coated pills.
A biased person could never appreciate my poetry.
Let's taste and try out all the varied variety of curries and broths of muse out here...
Let's all appreciate the different flavours that simmer in the poetry soup melting pot,
many cooking up delectable foods for thought...
Courtesy the mighty Amazon successful deliverance reported...
Regarding unexpected Gadshill gift
(as if delivered from Magi)
tamper proof wrapped,
thus an obligation goads me
to communicate following
trademarked™ poetically apt
reasonable rhyme capped
with feeble airborne attempt,
no matter arms waved futilely,
madly, and ridiculously flapped
fortunately I eluded being kidnapped
by men in white coats
spellbound and rapt
before arriving at 20965 Young Avenue
Bend, Oregon 97703-8461
without energy being zapped.
The abovementioned transmission to whit
hesitantly, yet immediately, wisely scuttled
cuz analogous to Icarus, a free spirit
ignoring Daedalus warning soaring
too close to the sun
earning stronger epithet than "you nit"
true to adolescent hubris,
the son blithely ignoring
his father as a hypocrite,
but honest to goodness truthfulness
of above line entails
caution and discretion I readily admit.
Just now, I sample
Navitas Organics blueberry
hemp power snack(s)
wondering how many chewy squares
yours truly needs to consume
before me noggin
goes wickety wickety wack,
but... just maybe amply ingested
cubed plant based superfood
could allow, enable and
provide me means to take flight,
whereby off gray carpeted tarmac
goes Matthew Scott Harris.
So best be on the lookout okey doke
for one nondescript buzzfeeding bloke
long haired pencil necked geek fella,
who juiced awoke
and suddenly found himself at Trader Joe's
(with a twenty dollar gift card)
among garden variety generic folk
such as special people spanning Costco calendar,
who sport and trumpet surnames such as
Dunning, Harris, McGeehan no joke,
yet amidst madding crowd there could be
spy versus spy donning dagger and cloak.
anyway hoop fully thee above laughter did evoke,
perhaps e'en yar own literary juices
I didst unwittingly stoke.