Long Parachutes Poems
Long Parachutes Poems. Below are the most popular long Parachutes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parachutes poems by poem length and keyword.
New baby angels float in turquoise gowns
Come down slow like opened parachutes
On eight sided snow flakes in Alaska
Where sun light plays with ice on trees
With colors creating crystal glowing dreams
Angels come in peace from far off galaxies
From newly created universes from beyond
At the edge of quadrant five where time began
Where holy forces congregate with dark matter
Brilliant beacons of hope travel on light beams
At light speed to find a home with fallen snow
As children find the wilderness in innocence
Exploring the unknown
Woven through eternity in the fabric of time
Children capture snow flakes in their mind
Play with angels hidden deep inside each one
Parachuted down from heaven on eight sides
Sometimes you need
We all need
To step outside ourselves
And take another look
Grab a break
Pretend, dream and otherwise fake
That you know whats going on
Which path to take
Then again
Its good to roll with the smoke
Giggle at nothing
And share the joke
Yes, I know
Drugs are bad
Simple parachutes
For the mad, sad and glad
Looking to follow the latest fad
Ho Ho hee hee
Puff puff pass
Don’t be greedy
Plenty to go around
Hoochy hound
The magic mess
Comes from the ground
May I introduce you
To the sound?
And lift the veil
Of the deep long inhale
Hold on to the smoke
Then exhale
Wait for the rush
Then enjoy the silence
Of the mental hush
Watch the day melt away
Take your thoughts out to play
Beautifully lazy
Is all I can say
Come come
Bring your lips and a lung
Time to play hooky
And get them eyelids hung
Mary, Mary
How does your garden grow?
B.U.D.S.
Bring Us Delicious Smoke
Wonderful girl,
Come take my mind for a whirl
LOL
Eric (and sometimes not)
Once upon a time but not right now or ever
A parachutist climbed the short oak tree
On private property not yours or mine
The sign read, “Trespassers will be shot
on sight” (sight unseen)
Our flying man used fingers on both hands to climb
8 of them plus 2 thumbs as I'm reminded of the crime
All hands are innocent until proven guilty
Tree/land violators will be considered flying legal
If found rising to the sky with parachutes behind them
At the top he stopped, having nowhere else to go
Using skills but not his knowledge for jumping off
Like superman on hypnotic kryptonic drugs
That could lead to harder drugs
Or landing like a block of lead in mud
His hands stretched out pretending to be wings
The chute forgot to open or to chirp or work
Because chutes are not birds and they don't chirp
Rip cords don't pull themselves
Parachutes don't deploy from tops of trees
We hear someone yelling “Geronimo!”
While leaping between the leaves and forest
It was not a question of technology for the man
Perhaps the tree or ground got in the way of progress
Distances can cause misunderstandings about the land
Sound judgment and adjustments are required
Part of the calculus of jumping from above
He ended up where he had come from
Face down in the mud where he belongs
Not jail where you might suppose for trespassing
The sunlight beams down on a warm spring day
and the blues abate on a warm spring day.
March snowflakes morph into April showers;
and shoots start sprouting, on a warm spring day.
A cacophony of birds can be heard
chirping for a mate, on a warm spring day.
And yellow daffodils pop from the ground;
at a frantic rate, on a warm spring day.
Nesting birds take turns sitting on their brood
incubating eggs on a warm spring day.
Butterflies emerge from their chrysalis
and try out their wings on a warm spring day.
Dandelion seeds, rigged to parachutes;
gently float aloft, on a warm spring day.
And the crack of a bat hitting a ball;
rings out from home plate, on a warm spring day.
To gormandize upon the fungal billowing
of its noisome mustiness,
beguiles many to munch upon its earthy reek.
A creamy white meatiness enchants taste buds
to pillage pale fetid delights,
while a gluttonous well-being
permeates through every orifice.
Before they were banned from overhead storage
Durians ruled the sky.
Air sickness or a stomach churning turbulence
were deemed more desirable than
than those choking emissions
wafting from their pulpy substance.
High above the Indian ocean
passengers overcome by the funk
demanded parachutes.
Some renounced their white privilege
or fell to their knees to pray for breathing masks
to drop.
Even when disembarked, cabs would not carry them
fearing the lingering grip of clammy odors.
While still in their departure lounges
hardened Limburger eaters grew pale,
trembling at the thought of flying unprotected
from that most redolent of fruits,
the mighty all-pervading Durian.
Dance, Monkey, Dance!
Commiserate with the dearly departed
The dead stay dead
Consummate your marriage with anarchy
Dance, monkey, dance!
The media plays you like a fiddle
This life's damned little diddle
Surely there is solace in fear
Birth a scapegoat
While gods parade golden parachutes
Life is ugly
Death is beautiful
A foundation of futility
Every soldier dead
On foreign soil
Build a fence
To keep out the goats
To keep the sheep free
From impurities
Dance, monkey, dance!
Life's tune plays in your ear
Tuned out by words replaying in your mind
Just regurgitated thoughts
That aren't your own
Line the streets with gold
To watch the chaos unfold
Your child's soul was sold
By gratuitous gluttony
Commiserate with the nearly departed
The living could continue living
Consummate your marriage with your own thoughts
Don't be a dancing monkey!
Birds Drop In With Questions
(Birds Don’t Catch Falling People)
Fly high on the happy open sky little ones
Sometimes birds collide with jets in flight
Humans have the right of way in aerospace
Why is there so much traffic?
Passengers like to step outside for fresh air
Sometimes they forget their parachutes
To confine people in small places is wrong
What ever happened to imagination?
Birds wonder why people don’t eat more bugs and seeds
How do they fly without feathers and wings?
Colliding with birdies is the least of their problems
Birds don’t catch falling people all the time
In fact never if you don’t mind
Don’t worry about our friends in free fall
They think about religion and politics going down
And how to lose weight at the gymnasium
And make a loud thud upon landing
Amidst the Snowflakes
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky
One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding
At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge
However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created
Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed
Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all
As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes
A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury
Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route
Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence
High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day
Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.
Andreas Simic ©
The Bandits Rendezvous
By Franklin Price
9/1/2019
Once upon, a Far East time, in nineteen sixty eight
The GEEIA squad made history on a non-remembered date
The plan had come together to build a club house new
When it was completed, was named, “The Bandits Rendezvous”
All the parts, to build it, were scrounged from miles around
Taxpayers did not pay a dime to raise it from the ground
The name not given lightly when it opened on that day
At the south end of the squadron a base called Cam Ranh Bay
Our scrounger, whom I will not name, got a jeep, for quarts of rum
From a needy alcoholic, there were a few where we were from
Had it flown down to us, in a Hercules with space
Then drove it down to Phan Rang where another trade took place
The jeep was traded, for a truck,with wood to build the core
Some was traded to the Navy, who poured the concrete floor
Soon the walls were standing and the roof was on the top
But the inside of it barren, and,. for sure, we could not stop
The middle was an open bay. The ends were spacious rooms
We made them into places that were far from storage toombs
The south room had a large teak bar, flown from the Phillipines
The north a full blown kitchen, a place to cook our steak and beans.
Parachutes adorned the middle bay, to provide some ambience
When we had our first unveiling, brass was invited to the dance.
General McConnel came, he was the Air Force, Chief of Staff
Along came other Generals, not the lowly riff and raff.
Don't remember any congressmen, no congress ladies at the time
The drinks were flowing copiously for opening this crime
The General gave a rally speech that made us all so proud
It was in the early evening, we were a drunken, rowdy crowd
When the night was over, and I staggered to my rack
I marveled at the place we'd built, from our scrounger's useful nack
He was right there with us, was a pirate, having fun
In the club house, “Bandits Rendezvous”, when all was built and done.
That's my story, I have told it. That was fifty years ago
The statute of limitations, has run out, for all I know
It was all for entertainment, yes, was all this glitz and glam
It helped to be creative in that place called Viet Nam
A countryside walk gives me such delight
yellow dandelions grow in the field
Soon they will transform, changing to pure white
soft puffballs, where minute seeds are concealed -
to a gentle breeze all these seeds will yield
Tiny seeds hang on to white parachutes,
with mother nature they are in cahoots
Scattered by the wind they drift in the air
until they fall to earth and put down roots…
but some gardeners find them a nightmare!
Pick-A-Title, Vol 21 - Dizain - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Chosen Title . 5. Lost To The Wind
10 syllables per line, checked with Rhymezone and how many syllables
08/05/20