Long Pairings Poems
Long Pairings Poems. Below are the most popular long Pairings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pairings poems by poem length and keyword.
We big, tough, well-thinking male bearberries blew and we snarled and we spouted and we blew.
But those danged dandelions obstinately kept their tops on, no matter how much we did fuss.
Come on fellas, I said to my fellow bearberries. Here is just what we’ll do…
“I’m not taking them!” I screamed at B.B.2, our leader, a passive little cuss.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
I am so sorry Tiger Lilies, he told them. It’s just us bear berries today. He shot an apologetic look to T.L. 1 and T.L. 402.
I am sick and tired of my whole life being video- recorded by those selfie-taking nut-buckets, I told him, indignant, and with an angry face.
They will clean your house, wash your floors, pay your bills, wax your car, and do your laundry, said B.B. 2.
I don’t care if my house implodes on its dirtiness, I retorted. Just keep them in their place.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
Tiger Lily 58 sneaked back into the Bearberry Lodge, where Tiger Lilies are never supposed to be.
We did not see her at first as she used her invisibility tablet to reach us; I felt her heat on the back of my neck, before I saw her.
She began to give me a really nice, warm, massage and sweet backrub which was the best I had had times three.
Wow! What is that? I asked myself, as I began getting tingly and happy all over, and down under.
I guess I was talking about these wonderful tiger lilies, our allies.
My dad had told me a long time ago that the best pairings in the meadow was always a BB and a T.L.
Who are you? I whispered to Tiger Q. Lily 58. I am your soul mate, she responded, can you please meet me at 2?
Where? I wondered, and she immediately conveyed that she would be at northern rise of Bunny P. Hill.
I will be there with my matching rings, I told her. Are you ready? Yes, she agreed. No one else will do.
I am now hitched to a wonderful tiger lily, and all my mean thoughts
toward T.L.'s seem pretty damned silly.
(And I don’t care whether or not the dandelions ever lose their
tops. They are of no use to me now.)
Dated: May 12,2018
You were placed on the planet
to write rhymes
but to many times
people tried to fit you
in between their lines
Their prefect pairings
not caring or wanting to be fair or kind
They couldn’t possibly see you
They were bonafide blind
not understanding you
unable to peek into your multifaceted mind
You say “Darkness and Negativity”
But you are starting off in the right place
praying on your knees
No, not needing the societal disease
Who cares if it’s man you please
Only God has the answers
He holds all the keys
He gave us the birds and the bees
and lets us build our houses
out of his trees
Change is coming
I can feel it cold blowing
on the breeze
Maybe God will show us
what He sees
I know sometimes
That mirror feels cracked and broken
The image you see is frozen
Words stuck on the other side of the glass
your reflection has never spoken
When you stare into those eyes
You wonder
What things will be discovered
as your spirit is awoken
Get on the love yourself train
God’s blessed you with a token
Don’t worry, I think all of us
feel incomplete
doing the life sad shuffle
just off a bit by a half beat
yet we get off our asses and repeat
Nothing ever got done
spending to much time in a seat
Get moving guy
bring out those happy feet
You’ve got things to do
and people to meet
Put words down on paper
Take all those thoughts
the good, bad, bold and beautiful
flow-fully fill up that stark white sheet
Like yours “my reality”
is imbedded within my insanity
sometimes I’m the victim
of my own voracious vanity
I think I need to go it alone
While needing something
to fill up this heart cavity
Sometimes I feel like floating far far away
yet I can’t escape emotional gravity
My loneliness is my own preferred prison
I am my own worst enemy
Is this a strange self fulfilling prophecy
Do I need to be separate from society
If so why do I want people to look and see
To read the essence that resides in me
It’s only when I write that I totally feel free
I guess in the end I’m who I am born to be!
Inspired by Christen Foster’s “My Reality” piece.
Join me in welcoming a new poet to our family.
I turn to my girl highlighting Mayday is near
A day of spectacle that the whole village views
There's Jesters of folly and Knights without fear
Witnessing lances and jokes, always going askew
To view such we can venture along different ways
We can stroll by the river listening to many sounds
In awe as we walk amidst most wondrous displays
That on any given day beautiful vistas abound
Decisions, decisions, as we contemplate which way
It's such a special day wondering what to wear
Beauty personified will my Olive be on this day
Knights or Royal Princes, all they can do is stare
So tomorrow we've decided to be our chosen route
Two hearts in decision, declaring what's their suit
Mayday morn now greets as I turn next to me
She my guiding light as beautiful as the dawn
Excitement illuminates for into her eyes I see
Onto my back I lie, that feel she's now upon
Into this day we go heading along the river
Crystal clear translucent such serenity in it's flow
Under greened canopies cooled shaded deliver
Wafting leaved dress in delightful fanned throw
We sense the clearings near for scents we sense
Sporadic clusters in capture of welcoming eyes
Mayday games have started, distant heard suspense
Knights on horseback mounted, now in espy
Now we're in amidst encapsulated we now are
She's here to cheer, her Sir James, soon to spar
Balcony she now awaits, white steed he's now astride
Blinkered pairings gallop towards intended foe
To win this Mayday he, to fight for her his bride
Eliminate his enemy, witness his crimson flow
His lance in now connect, thrown metal disperses
Petals of beauty hurled of rainbows selected
Images of we, now thinking marital rehearses
To know on this day, her intended she's elected
Moments of their previous now in recent past
Knowing they're now free in kaleidoscopic stream
Spectrum of feelings now in view full cast
In colourful extremes, fight for your dreams
.
In referance to SATB
I didn't know that music lovers often
tell the story from the arrangements
and pairings to what the composer is sharing
he combination of instruments
don't get along
like the piccolo and tuba
they don't jive when there together
and the muted celesta and xylophone
they don't get along
whats a song
the sounds for many
comparable and gitty
composed to love or set a mood
sounds can't love
but are capible of being loved
it's arranged for cultural conservation
you get what the composers saying
even though sounds aren't capable of love
what one desire to love
is an obstacle and challenge
due to the facts of being love
takes an enormous amount of time
those who interfere
will say one maynot be sincere
which may indicate a lack of
a lovers importance
the sounds that are supportive
the bright side to the love thing
is defined by what
you bring
to level out both sides of
importance
the composer considers
a pitch that delivers
the mood the sound should bring
Les personnages de cette fiction ne m'aiment pas.
Ils refusent de m'inspirer, alors j'ai refusé de leur
donner mon nom de plume ou mon nom légal.
Ils sont méchants et ne m'aiment pas.
Ils refusent de m'inspirer.
Vous pouvez dire que c'est fou parce qu'ils sont
fictifs, mais ma représentation et mes moyens
pour parvenir à mes fins sont tous liés à ces personnages
Piccolo meddled in Tubas affairs
the audience stops and stares
the traits of a disoriented thing
and what about Celetas muting
wisdom tells us that
it's no suited with
xlophone maybe it's all fiction
but for where we're sitting
I aint never seen nothing like
this before
Research suggests those who interfere in others' relationships are more likely to have dark personality traits such as narcissism. Meddlers may interfere in a relationship in a variety of ways, such as by highlighting how one's partner has failed to meet important needs.
The night closes the windows, and
The sky has become a crystal house,
Shining crystal windows,
The Moon
Has sketched through them -
Through the entire alabaster sanctuary.
A single star was sending down
A crystal cable,
And passed its plough across the earth,
Unearthing embraced bodies,
Couples chained
Around the round earth.
Their speech clung everywhere,
Through droplets of words, lost upon the earth -
The same language that stars do not touch.
And the crystal globe spun -
And the coiled bodies with it.
But the sky did not spin,
Nor the majestic stars with it –
They remain anchored,
Each with its sword of light
Plunged into the earth,
Each bound to the immense plough
That furrows our lives.
So stands time, the eternal farmer,
Stretching his seed of crystal through the darkness,
Halving our dreams and years,
With a hand that seems never to rest.
We spectate, spectral, in this dust of life,
Where love and fate share an embrace,
Crying silently while the unyielding cosmos
Continues to sing its cosmic ballad, moist with unseen tears.
Oh, divine plough that overturns kingdoms and hearts alike,
That breaks the midnight soil, turning love into a relic,
Unleashing silent groans beneath the starry canvass -
You build us and unravel us in the rhythm of a spinning sphere.
Our pairings, our bondings, walk upon the giant orbit,
Generating echoes that beat in the crystal silence of space,
And slicing the infinite shadows with every furrow.
Will the star continue to watch us,
When we, at last, dissolve into the earthly evening's darkness?
The Palinend
the Palinend is a form of poetry that the last word of each line is spelled backwards from the last word of the line before.
as such it always has an even number of lines.
ideally the words are spelled exactly, but the order of the sounds is paramount, that is, deer and reed is ideal, but dear and reed are still properly within the form.
Minimally there should be at least six syllables per line, and at least six lines per poem.
A variation would be where the reversal would be spread across more than one word.
Here is an example: Steve Irwin, Moses’s Mom, and Me
in amongst the Nile reed
she trusts what she held most dear
out along the barrier reef
is where he faced his fear
though through this world we strut
it is in God that we trust
thus we discover how powerful we are
in this moment, or any era
if i can stay in the now
then i’ve truly won
In this example, the first two couplets are good examples as they have the sounds in order (but not the exact spelling) The third couplet is weak, Strut and Trust are not exact reversals of each other. The fourth and fifth couples are spot on.
here’s another: reward
the part of me most reviled
is the part that will deliver
so with my spirit i will tinker
and together my parts will reknit
so i’ll dig back into that dark drawer
and there find my great reward
This one is a bit tighter, as all the pairings are exact.
If you give this a try, please post a link to your effort here in the comments, or at erbiage.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/the-palinend/
Death ...
Death is NOT the enemy
It is but the longest part of eternity
The essential part that gives life its preciousness and value
It is the body's rest, the spirit's release, and the soul's freedom
When we again join tenderly with the Universe ... coalesce with the cosmos.
Apathy ...
Apathy is TRULY the enemy
It is the thief of all that's good and estimable
Its complacent dynamism will rob you of all you feel and find of value
It is the lie of substances - the voice they whisper you, sweet
That life is for THEIR purpose alone - the endless pursuit of euphoria.
Escape ...
Apathy's true and wily ambition
The artful, errant ambition it has perfected
Escape from worry, escape from stress, escape from pain and pity
But in truth, escape from love and emotion and responsibility ... and LIFE
An escape that is permanent, impervious and cold.
Death ...
Death can come to you in many ways
And it can come long, long before you breathe your last
For substances - the great lie - will strip your passions, for good and gone
Even if you are released from the grip of their addictions and affects
Your heart will never thrum - never MOVE - with the sacred intensity it did.
Poet ...
I am a poet, among other things
I do my best to write honestly, with unusual phrasing and imagery
Melding fresh word pairings and ideas with classic style ... and emotion
Imagine what I could write - the Sonnets and Odes and Verses and Rhymes
If I wasn't cursed by my own poor choices, to never feel DEEPLY ... again.
Fool ... oh, fool!
The Beer Drinker
Seven, the shop in the village closes at eight, something my wife
needed...so ok. I took the narrow road the one that has trees on
both sides it is a bit longer and I did not have to do this but I had
been drinking beer didn’t like to be stopped by eager police they
have been coming down on foreigner, giving fine for anyone over
the legal limit they get a percentage of the fine.
In the middle of the road, I stopped light from my car casted
a un- earthly impression and I saw wolves crossing the road,
wild boars galloping as avoiding an enemy or enemies, hares
in burrows and glades trembled. The nightlife of the damned, their
night was not a cosy fireside where fairy tales were told, a struggle
to survive this night, to forage food, they are more scared of each
other than of me. Life of wild animals is short sharp and painful,
- or is it- yet we have no right to interfere for they are free and
live a life that within its confine has mirth and happy pairings.
And then the full moon came I got out of the car undressed
and bathed in its blue, silvery light, shivering but it was
worth being at one with nature which we lost and still think
we can regain. My wife never got her the garlic, but I was not
bitten through the night, but my love for the woman who
married someone else still appears in my dreams.
Artificial pairings forced friendships
and barriers of language, but seemed
harmless, and without knowing me
painted letters in tidy rows
words on scented sheets signed with love
and read in secret.
Mother could be so distant
she must have known love once
waiting with a case of clothes
strange faces and writing books
no drawn out farewells or take cares
I went to school
Empty words and promises
long vacations surrounded by mountains
the song filled valleys I made home
with broken phone calls, no dreams
just pregnant pauses and nothing
but Nain would hold me.
I remember packing trunks and boxes,
skirts and blazers of dark blue
no handkerchiefs for crying tears
hidden behind the closet door
I had nothing to say.
The years have wandered past now
and love has found its own way
my heart once broken remains strong
beneath a distant smile
I have learned to keep my secrets
with phone calls that never come.
I still wonder if those old friends
hid their secrets beneath the pillow
before their voices judged me
with venom to strip my heart
as they turned and walked away.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 [King James Version of the Bible]
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the
heaven:
Prayer makes man human for in our innocence, we pray.
Knowing, that we're limited in sincerity; we seek.
Palm to palm, oft on our knees, childless, we of clay convey
the hope for healthy children to the Universe, we speak.
Our pairings blessed, our off-springs bloom, each yin seeks a yang.
Coupled moving forward walking hand and hand, yang calls to yin.
All we've known is but a part, a grain, falling from His hand;
adult children pray oft on their knees since, we are akin.
Around and round the cycle rolls in Universes untold
whether the parts know or seek the whole, still they grow, and go.
Yet, only the sentient pray and dream, eyes half open, behold
the Eternal wonder of creation, yet ... who knows, who knows?
Does the quark pray for a quark, does the sun pray for decay
does the Universe seek black holes? Who can say, who can say?