Long Participles Poems
Long Participles Poems. Below are the most popular long Participles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Participles poems by poem length and keyword.
March into her reformative room of wisdom
Where knowledge catapults to the threshold of your mind
Where Shakespeare and short stories in spoken English
Gives vibrant vocabulary over volumes of time
Her colorful classroom accommodates all levels
While your mental capacity is moved with motivation
It is a Catalyst for claiming certificates and medals
Like a sponge absorbing insightful information
Your books and brain will form beneficial bonds
From poetry to past participles, painted with your pen
Your termly evaluations and exam marks correspond
As your teacher tunes your talent over and over again
She does more than teach, she instills values and morals...
Empathy, compassion, tolerance and respect
From conflict resolution to resolving quarrels
She is ready to role model emotional intellect
On the sports field she is a callous coach
In the classroom she makes education exciting
She ensures you're filled with ambition as you approach
Your English class which is innovative and inviting
From dramatic irony to discursive essays
She'll teach diary entries and dramas in detention
Leave a memorable mark while teaching poetry and plays
As well as creative writing and comprehensions
While loving to learn, you will learn to love both
The language and the lessons where seeds are sewn
Her English exercises is an engine for growth
In her house of wisdom where knowledge is owned
In English classes my skull would be reelin' with a myriad of perplexities,
Strugglin' to cope with English Composition with its multitudinous complexities!
I could never comprehend (and never will) the mysteries of verbs and pronouns,
Or danglin' participles, prepositions, conjunctions and irregular nouns!
"Your future will be mighty bleak", my patient teachers hinted indirectly,
"If you don't learn the intricacies of the English lingo now and correctly!"
The long-sufferin' teachers considered me a dunce and their hopeless bane!
I wanted to be a pilot! How was this folderol gonna help me fly a plane?
Incomprehensible to me were past, present and future perfect tenses!
Invariably, I bungled those terms in trying to compose any of my sentences!
Fiddle faddle! Why, I mused from my naïve and youthful perspective,
Would I ever have any use for a comparative or superlative adjective?
My favorite classes were glee club, art and gymn, each in which I did excel,
But adverb clauses, proper and predicate nouns to my mind just didn't gel!
The use of consonants, vowels and indefinite articles left my head a-spinnin',
I couldn't understand the use of predicates or proper titles from the beginnin'!
Thankfully, after the vicissitudes of high school and bewildering frustration
I somehow managed to accumulate enough English credits for graduation!
Well, I reckon I ain't never gonna be no good at parsin' a sentence no how!
(Wouldn't my teachers be proud of that line - or would me they disavow!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
In English classes my skull would be reeling with a myriad of perplexities,
Struggling to cope with English Composition and its multitudinous complexities!
I could never understand (and never will) the mysteries of verbs and pronouns,
Or dangling participles, prepositions, conjunctions and irregular nouns!
"Your future will be mighty bleak," my patient teachers hinted indirectly,
"If you don't learn the intracacies of the English lingo now - and correctly!"
The long-suffering teachers considered me a dunce and their hopeless bane!
I wanted to be a pilot! How was this folderol going to help me fly a plane!
Incomprehensible to me were past, present and future perfect tenses!
Invariably, I bungled their use in trying to parse my sentences!
Fiddle Faddle! Why, I mused from my naive and youthful perspective,
Would I ever have any use for a comparative or superlative adjective?
My favorite classes were glee club, art and gymn - each in which I did excel,
But adverb clauses, proper and predicate nouns to my mind just didn't gel.
The use of consonants, vowels and indefinite articles left my head spinning.
I couldn't understand the use of predicates or proper titles from the beginning!
Thankfully, after the vicissitudes of high school and bewildering frustration,
I somehow managed to accrue enough English credits for my graduation!
Well, I reckon I ain't never gonna be no good at parsin' a sentence no how!
(Wouldn't my teachers be proud of that line! Or would they me, disavow!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved)
young whippersnapper brain
pours out her last idea
flicking adjectives into dirty dumpster
nouns prance off, disgusted
without elaboration or fancy descriptions
verbs take the lead,
kicking their adverbs to the curb
your nuances no longer welcome,
a mob mentality
seeking satisfaction in a brick alley
prepositions begin to arrive at the front
under the discarded boxes
searching through the rubble of the day
one climbs up the filthy trash heap
jumping into a pile of overused words
word play being what it is,
startling, laughing, loving gerunds arrive
carrying participles on their backs.
They cannot stop hitting, hurting and killing each other
Stop! Title yells. I want some kind of legacy.
I have no words to add, being mute and respectful of my elders
I am a mere homophone,
too consternated to know these two warring factions
well enough to take sides.
Soundlessly ricochet to and fro
hither and yon
roundly bobbing within squarely donned
talking heads of psycho killers,
one pyromaniac burning
down the crowded house
sparking magnificent conflagration
towering inferno emulating
caterwauling, kickstarting, ululating
(think) stray cats on a hot tin roof
nsync with 10,000 maniacs
intense heat and duraflame
long since eroding
weather beaten soul asylum
strip mining away
vestial trace, hence impossible mission
rectifying purposeless existence
imputed to passive self sacrifice
upon cusp of prepubescence
mystified, mummified, modified,
stilled, lulled, andhushed
obsessively grammatically fanatical
oftimes feeble efforts yielded countless
corrective editing measures
subsequently rendering lame
resultant deplorable effort
despite NON GMO gluten
and monosodiumglutimate free
diet of (hooked) worms
limply tethered symbolic constructs
analogous to dangling participles
scraping, plowing, etching...
imperfect triangulated Hollywood squares
across parched stream of consciousness
former luscious cerebral riverbeds
long since bone dry
millennium since onset climate change
courtesy global warming
blowing in the hot torpid wind
sands of time elapsed
accepted biological demise
forever linkedin with his forebears
birth/death repurposed cycle
activated, demonstrated, gifted...
integration, narration, reincarnation...
biochemical, geological, paleontological...
legacy randomly begetting me
epochal, integral, orbital saga
since time immemorial
fifty plus shades of once ashen gray
well muscled athletic human specimen
oblivious corpse good n plenti
petrified, metamorphosed, coalesced
bleached skull and crossbones
grown brittle when blazing sun's
rays generated aforementioned disparate ideas
jangled, rankled, and zapped
in tandem with bared tiger (no lion)
slapdash pell mell, helter
skelter, higglety pigglety...
germane blitzkrieg rained down above
leaving writer, tortured, mortified, and benumbed
without either sense or sensibility
nor pride and prejudice
perusing discombobulated chaotic
kamikaze lobbed muddlesome nonsense.
No petal knows the flower it helps become.
Yet every edge contributes to its net sum.
What petals cannot see, the bloom makes whole.
Each separate curve completing one shared soul.
A boundary gives every petal, grace and form.
Its edges hold through sunlight, rain, and storm.
We cannot grow by leaving limits far behind.
We grow between the lines that shape within the mind.
Perhaps transcendence isn't traveling so far away,
But opening wider to what's within today.
The bud becomes what folded silence knew,
By letting what was hidden freely move through.
So nothing leaves the pattern we pass through.
Bud, petal, bloom keep coming into our view.
Transcendence is to become, not to enclose.
Beyond the petal, yet within the waiting rose.
No petal knows the flower it will help create.
Each keeps its edge, yet joins a larger state.
What petals cannot see, the flower makes one.
The whole emerges as all the parts are spun.
Beauty needs boundaries; edges give each its place.
Petal beside petal slowly shapes the flower's face.
We need not break the borders that limits define,
But meet between and through them, to yours and mine.
Becoming, opening, flowering as we grow,
Participles trip wherever changing currents flow.
No finished noun can truly tell us who we are.
We're verbs still blooming, reaching past the bar.
So nothing truly leaves, and nothing stands alone.
Each petal joins a pattern never fully known.
Transcendence isn't escaping, what we yearn to be—
It's opening just enough to find, what we can't see.
Second row to the board!
These words could not just be ignored
I’m thinking but a vintage few
Would even start to have a clue
Nostalgia begs those days at school
With steely nuns whose stare would rule
Blackboards and their squeaky clamor
Chalked Arithmetic and grammar
When called upon to diagram
By row, we took final exam
Our sentence structure, now to see
Whose brain has not been absentee
With prepositions, verbs and nouns
We hit the boards, such eager sounds
Arms held tight, just the right angle
Participles must not dangle!
Grammar raised walls where forgotten tenses slept.
Keeping tomorrow where yesterday had wept.
Dangling and drifting, right out of the frame,
Who taught the future to answer its name?
Walking through commas, still searching for doors,
Borrowing echoes from uncharted chores.
Turning, returning, refusing to mend.
Each sentence bent, before it learned to end.
Counting the silences while speaking aloud,
Wearing the sunlight disguised as a cloud.
Breaking, unmaking, remembering the strain,
Who taught the footprints to walk back again?
Grammar cried, "Stay, where your own tense belongs."
Poetry answered by unresolving its songs.
Leaning, unfolding, changing its key.
Is this a wooden doorway—or only the tree?
When all the walls had forgotten their place,
Time lost its verbs, but remembered your face.
Lingering, wandering, never quite through,
Perhaps every participle, was writing to us too.
Walking beyond where the full stops had gone,
Having been written, the sunrise came on.
Turning the corner, up the down-hill;
Dangling forever, tomorrow stood still.
Undoing tomorrow before it was through,
Having been broken, the old became new.
The ashes rehearsed becoming seed—
Grammar looked back... and entropy agreed.
"Sung In"
We are notes
on the tongue
of God
Each of us words
in a never ending
sentence
Music is math
God breathes us in
out of Time
We are but droplets
past and present
participles
wet behind the ears
unable to hear
the full melody
of
"what is this song?"
We move
punched out
perfect and yet wrong
holy and unholy
chords pulled tight
and we are automata running
under the pedals
of bare feet bleeding
playing a symphony
We do not fully understand
and we are slowly
beings being
low tides
caught in the ripped veil
sung in
blind
unseeing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Radiohead - "Everything In Its Right Place" (slow version)
Artist: XavieRinato
https://youtu.be/B5mrbr5qTDQ
I was punctured by punctuations
The words you wielded with such disdain
A ravenous revolutionary
Pitilessly piercing deep into my vein
I pretended such positivity
Holding happy forward as my shield
Your attack so precise and persistent
cold and calculated you would not yield
You left little to the imagination
Expressive expletives flowed from your lips
The harmonization of my horror
I was firmly nestled within its grips
Attacked by your callous conversations
Skillfully white washing every event
They were but measly misunderstandings
Never the nouns that I thought you had meant
The truth is that I perceived your pleasure
Within that capacity of your cruel
Heading towards a cliff like a lemming
Dancing dangerously close like a fool
So I sought out new triumphant treasures
Better lines lead to a more complete me
No more would I dangle dangerously
Halting hearing you speak helped me to see!