Long Outrunning Poems
Long Outrunning Poems. Below are the most popular long Outrunning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outrunning poems by poem length and keyword.
Salt on my lips
Arm on the door
Sun sinking slow
Like it’s begging for more
Paint on the sky
Pink into gold
Dashboard glow
Make the whole world fold
I’m driving down the coastline
Nothing in my way
Shifting into forever in this endless day
Engine like a heartbeat
Louder than my fear
Unstoppable and weightless
I was born for right here
Lines on the road
Blur into one
Wind through my hair
Like I’m outrunning the sun
Signs flying past
Names I won’t know
All that I need
Is this endless glow
Hands off the past
Both eyes ahead
That old life shrinking
In the rearview red
If this is a dream
Don’t wake me up
I’m racing the edge
Of a burning-up sky
lacksidasical larry leaps lovingly through the air
making mincemeat marauders truly want to care
nine nefarious nigglebuns are trying not to stare
outrageously outstandingly outrunning marathon mare
providing pristine plots to princely priestly pree
quizzing quality quails wondering why I am free
resident ruffians reaching residual responsibility
stressing strenuous starlight studies under thee
tricky trustworthy triple treats tripping up and down the bay
understanding understudy underlings trying to have their say
visualizing various viillains we often meet along the way
‘xoecting ‘xact ‘xasperating ‘xersizes to save the day
zany zigzagging zealots zipping into the fray
Where is the real place of safety
Inside these walls, or deep within
I am a wandering migratory spirit
Below the radiance of a far-off star
From chasing shadows, a hasty escape
To outrunning anxieties in the last of the light
Even if the past may haunt us in a faint whisper
We must fearlessly go forward
Maybe a sanctuary, constructed of oneself
An inner wealth, a quiet strength
Or in a community, a shared comfort
In the embrace of kindred care
Look out, reach out, let hands connect
No fear can destroy this tapestry
Because our spirits heal in this link
Until the very end, a haven was found
© daniel miltz
Consuming Failure
Pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
lest you believe the music makes him strut
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
the cooling of the iron his sole treat
keep moving to avoid the final cut
pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
harsh tempo of perfections searing heat
obsession with the ifs, and whens, and buts
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
performing in the hope of winning seat
an endless line that must remain uncut
pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
there is in heated battle no retreat
for some the dancer’s door will soon slam shut
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
accept in simple failure your defeat
perfections long sought peak a muddy rut
pay heed the dancing chickens hot plate feet
outrunning death by curried peppers sweet
6/12/2015
submitted to – Villanelle’s and Terzanelle’s Only – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
His mind is dark,
like a night sky without stars.
Doubt sits upon his shoulders,
poking at his face,
irritating his mind,
interrupting his thoughts,
outrunning his words -
laughing at him hysterically.
Demons slay his self belief,
echoing like mountainous valleys.
Playing with his insecurities.
Manic voices vibrate in a percussion of shrieking,
like jesters juggling with his sanity.
Sweaty palms and heavy feet,
leave his tongue cemented,
like a block of concrete.
Curtains ascend slowly.
Microphone has no mercy.
Silence awaits,
as audience anticipate.
His petrified eyes attempt
to ignore hundreds of faces,
focusing at him.
He fumbles and mumbles
apologises and starts again.
Closes his eyes,
to find his special, sacred place.
His hidden spirit roars, as audience gasp.
His soul rises like king Arthur's sword,
releasing the thunder, trapped inside.
Doubt plummets to the ground.
His words strike like lightening,
defeating demons into silence.
Audience applaud in elation.
For a moment he smiles,
but then doubt and demons re-emerge.
Bullying his self esteem,
murdering his short lived joy.
He sits in silence,
wondering what is the point...
Simple Musing
Silent One
25 July 2020
My Birthday,The Calendar Speaks
Since January 4, 1951**********
(Written for the Shanks, the Youngs & Jim)
“...Raging glory...Forever young...”. Bob Dylan
————————————————ttt———————————————————-
The calendar speaks
Of this day, seventy years ago, when
I was born. Around 6 p.m.. Wearing a crown
Of thick, black hair. And a never-stop smile,
Instilled to fight the blues. I will not
Want to imagine my mother in the pain of birth...
Only her joys in holding a daughter. My mom
Without any clues (thank God) to imagine all
The pains and demands
My growing would cause. Over and over.
Whoever would have had the thought that
My growing would go on this long?
Most likely, only God, who put the maps before me
All along the way. But, easily I can see
How his plan unfolded perfectly:
From my doings to the coursings of my heart;
From illnesses to ecstasies of my spirit’s growth;
From palettes to pirouettes to poetry.
Who would have prognosed I’d live this long?
Certainly not I. From outrunning my mistakes
To fighting beasts; churning through shadows,
Longing always for the light;
Praying for friendships with angels, and to be
Worthy enough to hear the psalms of Eden — which
Would have taken longer than this long — but,
Whoever would have guessed I’d live this long?
Not my doctors, not my teachers, not my neighbors.
They never saw life’s lessons feeding me to scream
Survival, then passion, and desperately to keep Knowing the smiles that blessed me from birth!
Thanks. Thanks, then, to life and God, and
Love, yes...
Love has held me all along. Thanks, too, to
New Poetry soup friends, so great
********. ************ ********
(c) sally Young eslinger for 1/4/2021
Thanks be to God
Beneath the diaphanous vault where shadow and humanity dissolve,
The fabric of nature unravels into an inscrutable residue of secrets,
Far from the world’s gaze, in the salt of the wilderness, a different essence is born,
Even bare sterility embraces the enigma that deceives and soothes us.
From the illusion of light-years, a whiff of earth mixed with saffron,
Nature caught in the dance of an eternal flame, inscribes upon the planes of existence,
Odes to the wind, where meadows bow to reveal a hidden-lost utopia,
The delicate sign of the sky bears ethereal symbols, home of the precious wild clover.
Deep down, at the root, where the echo of initiation throbs and writhes,
The whispers of a partial eclipse weave a complicit veil over myrrh footprints,
Nestled in the maple leaf, the wave of blood becomes intimately red,
Rustle of life in our spread, a solitary armchair beneath blue draperies.
Thus, I begin to merge with the threshold of mystery of beginning and end,
To immerse myself in the enigma of the opulent soul, the scent of ash and quake,
Outrunning the saintly stride, seeking the heart as a celestial sanctuary,
Stepping into the labyrinth called love, a portal to the heart named eternal.
i sit in silence
taking stock of this novel
that is my face its ruffled corners
and frayed pages written line by line
a faded cover aged and worn out in spots
old-fashioned dedication to the human race
some pages tattered wrinkled some even torn
but a worthwhile read perhaps for whomever
is willing to take a bit of time to look inside
the invitation’s there laying unopened
a story behind each tiny wrinkle
earned year after year
outrunning
age
age
age
age
age
age
age
age
age
age
age
age
with
charm
as well
as grace
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 11, 2020 for contest STRAND SELECT M sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
The day surprised me
tiptoed in on warm autumn breezes
that slipped in an out the leaved trees
floating down like winged butterfly chains
crunchy and wrinkled from the lack of rain
sliding in on clouds without a hint of change;
autumn rustled light upon the earthen forms
with browning grass and fading blossoms torn
and birds gathering in-flight prep migrating winter storms;
along the garden edge,
bulbs slept in their deepened beds
and the dried and thirsting ground
held spring's new bounty to be later found;
summer gave up its burn as it slipped away
outrunning sun and moon of longer to shorter days
to rest immersed
in cloud burst
with winter fantasies reborn.
A long line of waters
Deep in hearts of bathers
A lifeline of growth
Weep of salvation brought forth
Waters of life over a mile
Outrunning a thousand stile
Gifts of life in piles
Surmounting torments of viles
Dreams on waters slate
Streams of sages proliferate
Sun beam of neon flickers
Teeming waters on pickers
Wishers with panoramic views
Dreamer of waters purviews
Like well-wishers throwing coins over heels
Eye-openers on picker wheels
A river full of life
A river lull of strife
Outpouring a thousand mile
Outscoring a thousand smile
On this river of hope
A bigger dream to scope
A kaleidescope of scenery
Grandeur over tapestry
One day the said river dried
No one ever wondered and belied
Gold in pieces on the ground mounted
In the hearts of gold sprouted
Euphrates...
A river