Long Pack Poems
Long Pack Poems. Below are the most popular long Pack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pack poems by poem length and keyword.
A flawless sapphire blue tanzanite sky
spurs the flight of a monarch butterfly,
discarding its colorless chrysalis
as summer's sunny rays intensify.
Waves tongue ticklish toes along the shoreline
licking at bare feet playing in the brine,
and laughs and giggles echo in the wind
as the magic of surf and sand combine.
The beach hosts a frenzy of sights and sounds
from frisbees to seagulls doing their rounds,
a cacophony of shrieks and clatter
as the children howl like a pack of hounds.
A yellow sun sparkles like a citrine
hung above splendiferous shades of green,
and I cool my sunburnt skin with a breeze
that smells of sweat and barbequed cuisine.
I revel in the dog days of Summer
set to the beat of a laid-back drummer,
for this unhurried pace is hypnotic,
although summer's end can be a bummer.
(Rubaiyat)
9/5/2018
~BLOOD DUSK~
I'VE 'LLOWED MERCY OUT OF MY PITY,NOW MINE HUNGER REFUSES IT'S FAST
CONCEAL'NG TH' BEAST WITHIN,WHILE MY ENEMIES PERCEIVED ADVANTAGE
LIL' DO TH' INANE MONGRELS KNOW,THAT THEIR DOG'S DAY BRINGETH DOOM
NOW TH' RAVENS WILL FEED 'PON THEM,AS THEY'RE LAIN RIGID IN MY WAKE
'SPENDED IN TH' SHADOWS I LINGER,A'THIRST FOR THEIR SPUTTER'D GROANS
SENSING MY COLD THEY SHIVER,SOON TO KNOW TH' CHILL LEGEND'S TRUTH
MINE SLAVER BLENDS WITH FROTH,AS TH' RAGE ATTUNES MY SENSES FERAL
ANGELS N' DEMONS 'LIKE,FLEE TO 'VOID TH' SLAUGHTER FORTHCOMING
THEIR PACK APPROACHES HEEDLESSLY,AS I SMILE FORESEE'NG THEIR SHOCK
FOUR,FIVE,SIX BY THEM OF SCORE,"TH' MORE TH' MANGIER",I GRUNT GIBELY
MY SPORT'NG QUICKLY SUBSIDES,AS TH' SMELL OF BLOOD INCITES MINE RIOT
THEIR YELPS FILL TH' DARKNESS,AS I POUNCE PRECISE 'MIDST THEIR THRONG
SLICING THROUGH THEIR SINEWS,MINE CLAWS REND HASH'D THEIR FLESH
WHERE WERE PATES N' LIMBS,NOW SPRAY PROFUSELY OF PULSE CRIM'D MIST
TH' VAPOR'D THICKNESS FORMS AN FOG,AS I STAGGER 'MONGST TH' SECTIONS
WITH AN EXULTANT BAY I LET BE KNOWN,MY ALPHA'S ENEMIES' OMEGA...
.
..LEAVES FULL~FILLED,MINE FEEDING FRENZ'!!!
~AZAZA~'09
The elders gather the children together in a tent,
to pass down the teachings of the Ojibwe culture;
through fables, legends, myths, songs and dance,
to the sound of a beating drum we listen.
Of moral stepping stones and spiritual beliefs,
through fables, legends, myths, songs and dance;
we learn of the seven grandfather's who dwell above,
of animals in nature who have great spirit.
In fables, humility is represented by the mighty wolf,
for the wolf's very life is to be part of the pack;
and the ultimate shame is to be outcast, alone,
to know humility is to know who you are.
In legends, honesty is represented by the raven,
for the raven accepts himself completely;
and knows how to use his gifts in order to thrive,
to walk life in integrity is to know honesty.
In myths, respect is represented by the buffalo,
yes, to live your life in peace and total harmony;
to give of yourself in order that the people survive,
to honor your creation is to know respect.
In songs, bravery is represented by the bear,
the mother bear has the greatest strength;
and courage to protect and feed her young,
to face life with courage is to now bravery.
The drums, speak of wisdom represented by the beaver,
the beaver uses his gifts for his survival;
and alters his environment to sustain his existence,
to cherish knowledge is to know wisdom.
In dance, truth is represented by the turtle,
here on earth since the beginning of all time;
he lives his life slowly but with a destination in mind,
and knows the importance of the journey.
In fables, legends, myths, dance and songs we learn,
of the eagle who flies the highest to the creator;
who sees all, the eagle connects all the teachings,
to earn an eagle feather is the highest honor.
"Life is circular and the heart is the center and we are the heart."
___________________
February 22, 2017
Verse/Fables, Legends, and Myths
Copyright Protected, ID 879326
For the contest, Fable
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Second Place
A warm breeze, its source unknown, yet upon its breath
Carries the scents of my garden, thyme and sage and rose
Moving over warm soil, picking up cricket calls and aromas
Brought to me as I lay in bed, through a window open wide
Tomatoes and grass, full of residual heat from the August sun
Cooling under the pale light of the moon and stars, above
Slumbering, the wind comes and chases dreams through my brain
Like a pack of wild things, running in the halls made up of trees
Images of open spaces, verdant green hills, empty beaches bare
Owls hunting voles, victory in my garden, they cry of their lusts
Slinking feral cats, backyard lions, yowl to the moon in defiance
Sleep translates this mundane to where King Ozymandias reigned
My veggie plot, only grows stunted cherry tomatoes in the corner
The slugs went and ate my eggplant and the aphids suck my roses
The freeway makes a perfume of tar and smoke to bedevil my nose
A hot night and I open my bedroom window to catch some of the air
But in my mind, small things work magic and translate to the epic
When I sleep under the breeze that has blown through my garden
Silently he moves about,
Searching for easy prey.
An expert opportunist,
His game is not just play.
Often using a disguise,
To blend with his surroundings,
He keeps a low profile,
Until he's got his grounding.
He's a real chamelion,
A shape shifter for sure.
Whatever suits the current mode,
He'll shift to change his lure.
Moving freely with the pack,
He makes all the right sounds.
A wolf amid the dozing sheep,
Until his mark is found.
Friend or foe, it matters not.
He'll do what must be done.
Some sacrifices must be made.
Some fall before the gun.
Beware the friend you know little about,
But knows you far too well.
The friend who says not much at all,
But hears all you will tell.
Like the shark, he's silent,
Seeking what he may find;
And like the shark he's ruthless,
Preying on his own kind.
He had fondly decided to do his best
And win her love- his warm,cute choice ;
He flew about her, in chivalry and poise,
Who pecked and offered him to build a nest
That should be all of comfort and pride,
Besides being surely safe and compact ;
Beating amorous wings he receded with tact :
It should be pompous ; she won't deride
Nor ever in any way, the cosy love decline ,
As he would truly buckle down and align
Hovering about the nearby greenery and foliage,
He perched finally on an entangled branch,
Watching the waters running through a ranch ;
From the dawn to the dusk he did engage
His spirits and effort to search and port,
Shreds and patches of fronts and grass;
Every flight secured his hope and strength across ;
And then in all came up a neat little fort,
The emotive achiever made a careful scrutiny
Contented that the nest would house his destiny.
Fluttering around the proud preener, he did woo
In soft twitters and impulsive moves explicit ,
Of flapping wings and the beak came the tweet ;
The preview began without much ado....
Just a perch on the nest shaped well
And a few choice leaps here and there ...
She shrugged and fluttered away in the air
Leaving the poor proposer in a pell-mell
Yet was there a helpless humble chase
To seek the hopeful way out of the maze
The crest-- fallen darer with lost regard
And vanity, wrathfully began to crack --
Peeling and undoing every minutely twined pack
And pull down- his love laboured hard ,
With perches and hops crazy and anger agile;
The torn naive mass from the foliage nook,
Fell into the nonchalant water of the brook;
The puny loser's flight was fretful and fragile;
Snug warmth empowers and accomplishes a task
While cold pride crushes and sticks a mask.
Not For Contest
Note-Again Connie reads the contest rules after she writes the poem,
missing the fact that the poem should have ten lines or less. I told you
I'm walking on eggshells.
Why do all the chickens lay their eggs on my path
They are filthy and smelly and can use a bath
There's poop and stench pulling on my rope
Where are all the hungry foxes to give me hope
Please take them away from me on a jet plane
I can't take this anymore, I'm going insane
Fly them off to the sun so they'll burn to a toast
Their presence has turned me pale like a ghost
Why couldn't I have been the one to fly the coop
Instead of slumping with the white-sheeted group
Every day I see that family and six baby chicks
That pulls my nerves while I watch them get their kicks
These chickens should trip to the sun for all I care
I'll even pack a lunch for them to see them flare
Every day I hear buck-buck-buck while I walk on eggshells
My life needs to be unfeathered because I'm living in hells
First you take the girl
up on the southern Downs -
on a day with light wind
and bright sunshine.
Then you unpack things
from your bulging back pack -
with emphasis on those
Picnic goodies.
Next you ask for help
stretching the fabric out
to fit the sticks inside -
looking in her eyes.
While she holds the tail
you touch her hand with yours
as you tie up the string
ready for the air.
You give her the reel
and offer up the kite
to the heavens where her
presence transports you.
Place your hand over hers
and show her how to let
the string free the kite to fly.
When she turns, kiss her.
It's very simple.
© Griffonner 2024
When I take off as a raven,
the branch wobbles
my dark figure melts into the night.
No pack, no company
aside from the starlights—
they were once
alive, but now all there’s left are
fragments of tears from
somewhere above, is it heaven?
I wouldn’t know.
Wearing shadow of night itself,
I glide through the air.
Beneath me, a city in neon fire.
Cars rush below—
one place to another.
The suffocating air is filled
with nylon lies woven between
patched love, silenced truth,
and money slipped through envelopes.
I never understood that part.
My eyes spot the candlelight
from a small apartment window—
bright dancing orange, but dead as the stars.
I fly closer, in the window,
a young girl with silk raven hair,
inking silence with a long white quill.
Her lips unspooling low syllables
too old to rhyme with time.
The girl looks up—
Our gazes lock—
but she recognizes me, not the raven.
The shape of my own eyes
waiting in hers.
Candle light falters,
the night twists into a swirl
and drags me in with force.
The dead starlights flicker alive—
—I wake up at midnight,
breath caught in the echo of her gaze.
Outside my window,
a raven flies past—
I feel the wind in my chest.
“Hey, Mom”
Hey, Mom!
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been awake for hours.
There are dragons at my door.
“Come crawl in beside me,” She said
“I’ll chase them far away.”
Hey, Mom!
I stubbed my toe.
It hurts really bad.
“Let me see.” She said
“Oh my gosh. I think it needs a kiss.”
Hey, Mom!
Johnny said I’m fat.
He makes me mad.
I want to clobber him.
“Come here a little hug will do,” She said
“You’re a diamond in my eye.”
Hey, Mom!
Can you take me to the park?
I want to ride a merry-go-round
And play in the sand.
“Let's ask a friend,” She said
“I’ll pack a lunch.”
Hey, Mom?
Could you tie my shoe
And button up my coat?
It’s cold outside.
“I’ll walk you to the corner,” She said
“And see you on the bus.”
Hey, Mom!
Can I stay up late
And watch TV with
You and Dad?
It’s time for bed
My little one
A little kiss will have to do.
Hey, Mom!
Would you read me
A bedtime story?
Sure, my little one
Now, It’s time to turn out the light.
“Sweet dreams,” She said, “Sweet Dreams.”
That’s what Moms do.
Hey, Mom!
“Happy Mother’s Day”