Long Partook Poems
Long Partook Poems. Below are the most popular long Partook by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Partook poems by poem length and keyword.
UNSURE, AND QUITE UNCERTAIN, THEY SPEAK AND WHISPER
LIKE LOVERS INTRODUCED TO SOMEONE THEY "LUSSIN FOR"
CLAB LUSSIN, WAS SEEN AS DECEITFUL, AND SOME ADMIRED
THE CORAGE OF THESE TRCIKS THAT PARTOOK IN THE PRACTICE
SHE WISHED NO ONE TO LOVE HIM, SO SHE MADE EXCUSE TO
BE LOOSE AND VAIL, OFTEN EXCEPTING INVITATION FROM LESSER
CLASSED PEOPLE CITING THEIR GOODNESS, LOOKING PAST THEIR
POVERTY THESE MEN OFTEN WISHED TO LUSTCUTATE HER FOR
MONEY, ONE WAS QUOTED AS SAYING" WITH MONEY SHE WILL TASTE
TOMMORROW" SHE LOOKED HER LOVER IN THE EYE, LAUGHING AT HIM
SHE SAID SOME THINK THIS AS A FOOLISH BROAD TRYING TO SHOW
HER POSITION OF POWER THE HUMPS OF MY PELIVIS, THE MIGHT OF
MY THIGH'S, THAT I SHALL MAKE MEN WISH TO BE WITH ME!
Light, defined as electromagnet and;
The radiation of photon particles
Natural visible light with intensity and frequency
The Light wavelength (spectrum / polarization propagation)
Fire / light, is a fiery chemical warming substance
Bioluminescence lights are of sea-creatures glowing
Fireflies are flickering their internal lights at night
Sunlight fuels all green plants with photosynthesis empowering
People pleasure and preen at the beach with sunny sun tanning
Sunlight illuminates Mountain trails for bicycling and trekking
Sunsets have lavender with orange bright beams extending
Solar sunrays light a day of picnic park fun with joyful frolicking
Some of the light spectrum is radio, white light, ultraviolet and x-rays
Infrared is only heat visible and gamma-rays are the most powerful
Small lasers are used in disk drives, printers, and fiber-optics
Fiber-optic networks are a light fast digital information system
TV plasma, liquid crystal displays, LEDs light-emitting diodes gives visuals
These assist our everyday visual optic neural perceptions
Cars have headlights and ships use fog-lights
Light-towers have flood-lights and we use handy flashlights
Tesla and Edison partook in the light bulb’s bright invention
Lewis Latimer and Joseph Nichol invented its carbon filament
This did dispel much of the world’s nighttime darkness
Lightning lights, to reveal charges of negative and positive
Colors of violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, red: are hidden in white light
Some colors are viewed when seeing a rainbow over a dewy meadow
What can be possibly seen at the other end of a rainbow?
This, the notes of God’s faithful abatement covenant
Starlight is continually being reflected and refracted
Earth and the Heavens at night are lit, by starry star lights
Great stars are round and renowned and fiery fireballs
They in a balance of great equilibrium
Stars dispersing their photon particles at light speed
"Light speed, “299,792,458 meters per second"
Light, is a part of the equation “E=MC squared”
“Energy,” not made, nor annihilated, yet always in flux
"Natures life sustaining and revealing lights"
"The Light Particle / Waves"
Yes, once created by the Creator
Professor Petal, one of Patrick’s prolific pals,
Professed he had a Pollyanna Predisposition
Properly pronouncing pronouns without perky p’s.
A pithy proclivity, providing pollution to Professor Petal’s pronunciations.
Prissy Professor Patty from Prestigious Prussian Planet Philisophi-university,
Precariously prickled, privately at Professor Petal’s Pronoun-predicament.
Prissy Patty promptly planned a plane trip to Professor Petal’s Pre-existing pub.
Where placidly placed, Professor Petal, prevailed as President of Porous Pool Table Pro.
Privacy prevailed, as Professor Patty, presently at Pub, perceived Professor Petal.
Prissy Patty, partook of Paradise Pop-In-Pink Parboils, as she patty-caked in the pub.
Prissy Patty was soon pretty Patty, and Petal took her home, a primed and perfect professor.
Plenty of preemptive laughs prevailed, as they both wondered what pronoun begins with a P anyway?
Ambivalence amends itself
when ambition challenges the amoral freedom
like the ambrosia we partook of,
something prohibited to humans...
that only the mythological gods
had the pleasure to enjoy;
and we adorn our heads with narcissus,
defying our worthless repulsion...
until we suffer the first defeat with dismay:
and as ambiguity leads to anguish,
there's little left that we can relish!
What if shame made us anonymous,
and all the senseless living done: were bleak existence,
cursing torment persistently to absolve every fault...
nipping the nocturnal stillness
with its fulsome, invariable obscurity?
We'll irrupt our consciousness,
make an invidious invocation to nothingness,
inviting helplessness irascibly:
and as ambiguity leads to anguish,
we have no choice but to invent excuses,
making up words to invert another unsound thought!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Last night I woke up in the most beautiful place,
All the cares of the world didn't exist at all;
Folk loved each other, no such thing as race.
Joy and happiness was present on each face,
Because everyone answered to love’s call;
Last night I woke up in the most beautiful place.
Darkness, hate, and evil vanished without a trace,
Unity finally reigned; we stood proud and tall;
Folk loved each other, no such thing as race.
We partook of God’s love and amazing grace,
Our hearts were linked we were ready to play ball;
Last night I woke up in the most beautiful place.
Love, peace, joy took root in that time and space,
Prejudices couldn't break through love’s wall.
Folk loved each other, no such thing as race,
Last night I woke up in the most beautiful place.
Morality, it's 'good' it's 'grand' and works to some degree.
But sometimes for us it leads to marshland or tragedy.
Why so you ask? Does it not complete and compel the task?
It hinders as often the 'right' thing needs to be waited for and unmasked.
It is not the shining truth that leads to many good deeds and for time and time it has not treated me equally,
I ignored the value of virtue and listened and partook in it frequently,
True it stands that the building blocks have some quality where humans have found gravity,
But It's more what you do and how you acknowledge why they exist with sanity that makes things good and grand in reality.
Morality Poetry Contest, Mark Koplin
3/20/22
Going at an alarming speed
Taxes and parking fees
Across uncharted seas
I'm in the presence of sharks and trees
Keeping any B.S. far from me
Among constant conflict and chaos, I've only partially
Found harmony
It all use to dishearten me
Experienced much first hand rather harshly
Around me was constant paraphernalia like a pharmacy
In years past, I partook in some carpentry
Sometimes I make chimichurri with ingredients like parsley
Remarkably
What I do will not matter or it shall far exceed
All expectations, meanwhile most continue harming each
It's typical no longer startling
People charm and tease
Cause harm and cheat
A lot of them are a creep
Mama told me, boy get your s*** straight
Otherwise you're ending up in fifth place
Won't exceed if your content with that and think it's great
Someday I'mma drop a mixtape
On B.S. they often fixate
Far too many commit hate
Worldwide instead of just across this state
I'm not jaded
Even though I constantly got cross faded
Often living in space
For a long time I was a bit late
So the ship sank
But after a quick break
It all became innate
Still they treat others worse than inmates
People far too often piss-take
And they love to dictate
At this rate
That'll be their last mistake
Because it all gives shape
To being dim and fake
Leading toward a grim fate
Damn girl you got a thick waist
If I don't shape up, I could end up being fish bait
Can't get by with a higher loss than win rate
Specific crowds targeted
Harmful products continually marketed
Won't catch me in a cardigan
I finished it and now I've started it
Got back to drinking hard again
Risking an arm and leg
In daylight I'm charging in
Or in the dark I hid
Hmm girl, you're so very far from a gem
Often broke the hearts of men
For a long time of love they were hunger-starven
Got to keep a smart head
And a firearm instead
Of just a blade with a sharp edge
Concern for human life is often disregarded
Doesn't matter what you do, like if you bartend
Or became a jarhead
Can't do anything if you are dead
When December comes,
memories stir up unsought.
Once caught in its whirl
I sink down deep until inebriated
December brings in its wake
baskets full of recollections which take me
back to the days at my parental home,
where, as a child, celebrated Christmas
with my siblings and my parents.
I haven’t forgotten those haunting days
and never will I, if sanity sticks.
To my parents, Christmas meant waking up early,
putting on the best dress kept ready
and going to church to attend the mass.
While they devoutly partook of the ceremonies,
we children, lured by the sparkling lights
would peer into the crib set ready at one corner
to have a look at infant Jesus lain on hay
with mother Mary and Joseph on either side
and the Magi, shepherds and their herd
More than piety, what governed us then
were the thoughts of making a crib.
Also the yummy goodies awaiting us at home
and the planned visits of relatives.
On every Christmas, our house
would become an extended family
with our uncle and aunt and their children
of almost our own age group.
Preparing an inventory of things to do
was the greatest fun for us children.
Playing hide and seek and going on a trek
to the neighbouring hill were the two things
that always figured in the wish list.
Though there were no presents
under the Christmas tree to be unwrapped
and no fanfare as of now,
how I relish the unconditional love my parents gave
that I still feast on when I starve in life’s sandy dunes.
Festive occasions spark such nostalgia
that I long for the warmth, got as a child
from my parents who are now dearly missed
and my siblings scattered in places, out of easy reach.
As waves of memories from the past,
retreat and throw back relentless,
when blood calls to blood,
their echoes beat hard on the walls of my heart.
Bull eve me (Adam, whether existence
fact or fiction),
his immediate legion heirs whole
heartedly partook
to regale no Joe king paternal prominence,
sans legendary, fraternity,
and consanguinity subsequently implemented
faux pas threatening Nittany Lions role
attested by this papa, a curmudgeon
resident of the North Pole
burrowed deep within tundra
necessitated drilling permafrost black hole
son, which boring task found me dissatisfied,
asper penultimate existential goal
thus, I decided to sell coal
to New Castle, transported
within loco motive conveyance
doubling up as fish bowl
decimated crossing Arctic
great barrier reef Atoll
lauded me with mouthy gift horses,
(one Mister Ed, adore
hubble hoof only high saddled
Equus caballus neighing boar)
feted me, a hay er raising chore
followed by Mister Barns Noble encore
generation standing ovation,
a deafening applause
resonated across the floor
then an electrifying speech
by (plan net fitness diehard) Albert Gore
describing raping, pillaging,
And looting dip lore
able incursions as heath n (moor
or less opprobrious upon poor
sacred Mother Nature
whimpering and softly doth roar
ring, now treated like a whore
telltale global devastation
impossible to ignore agog
pollution extant across
entire world wide web bog
gulls restorative legislation,
when offal debris doth clog
estuaries, where watersheds habitat
choking with despair,
thus imperative to grab hold collective
figurative (corny as this may seem) ear
cuz jackknifed, irreparable,
horrible gnashing fear
fully betokens catastrophic
environmental fractured glare
ring hooker impailment here
and everywhere.
For years my father
Dug up his buddy, tilling
His garden for spring.
Never using his Roto
But, shoveling so slowly.
Dad was afraid that
His garden friend, might be hurt
By roto-tilling.
Painfully Dad partook of,
His cautious task so slowly.
You see, for many
years, Dad’s buddy surprised him;
Greeting him the same.
In a shovel full of dirt,
His friend, a terrapin, lay.
Dad always looked him
Over, for some injuries,
Very carefully,
Placed him in the grass until
He had finished the tilling.
For about one whole
Decade that old terrapin,
Would turn up each time;
As the garden grew, Dad fed
His friend lettuce, carrots, beans…
Dad was so attached;
That turtle, he did rate and
Dad loved that little
Creature like he was his best
Friend; turtle always came back.