Long Pear Poems

Long Pear Poems. Below are the most popular long Pear by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pear poems by poem length and keyword.


Across Fair Fields

Run across the fair fields, as fast as you can run, the fields your grandmother ran as a young girl,
Over long lush dark green grasses, whipping your knees, soft spongy turf springs each new step,
To stop where fast flowing streams rush and dance to the wind, a sweat breaking out on your face,
All out of breath kneeling by the bank of a brook, a stitch in your side, corn waves like a gentle sea.

By the brook with childhood friends enjoying sweet company watching spring as her beauty unfolds,
To walk across wet water mead’s, seeing glades in their finest clothes, to a meadow, in full flower,
Rolling in grass making camps sitting legs crossed as warm summer breezes temper-sweating brows,
Making sure you sit next to the one you care for most, nothing will be as good as this day ever again.

Playing in the meadows where your grandmother played, picking daisies, making very long chains,
Holding buttercups up to chins to see if they shine, then laughing, shouting out loud when they do.
Playing kiss chase, slightly slowing down, when the one you want to be kissed by is chasing you,
Under old pear blossom trees, flushed rosy red cheeks sitting next the one who is your first love.

Laying in high grass chin in cupped hands, it is so special this lovely day will be yours for all time,
Just staring at friends, full of innocence and so happy, this romantic time can never be repeated,
Unplanned moments where beautiful things just happen it’s your youth just enjoy the here and now,
Where everything is brighter has more colour, smells from the meadows become a memory for life.

Laying on your back staring at turquoise watery skies, listening to the silence, a perfect sunny day,
Heaths meeting small woods surrounded by greenest carpets only seen by a child’s pure innocence,
Give your heart and soul to this day enjoy natures gifts, your end of days will recall these moments,
Falling asleep in the December of your life, this last dream your friends will be there waiting for you.

So gather these thoughts, tie them up in a bow, put them safely in a corner of yesterday’s thoughts,
And walk again with your dear young friends in those happy times golden hair fluttering in the breeze,
Back to days of cotton dresses and turned-up jeans with baggy shirts, nobody noticed or even cared,
Hold your sweethearts hand once again and run across the fair fields where your grandmother ran.


Find the Best Holiday and Drink Tea

A fairyland fable is a magic table floating around but nit with a rallying cry. That is purely reserved for several synchronised cruise ships whose sunbathing missions thwart many a delivery driver. It is with great interest that an interest is neither a monetary aim at a bank or an inked out financial score singing a palate of possibilities. So go call the cat then. Go on. Meow meow. Dinner time. There you go. Fresh tuna is very scared now. Oh dear. And all the little flakes hard at work minced flesh in factories never really has a rest does it? Dilapidated dog during digging. And a great big wish from a ten thousand kilo cake is a celebrated glow in an outer solar sphere. Clap them all. Many cakes many spheres. Loud claps. And shouting at the mail is equivalent to eating beans on toast at several hundred miles an hour upside down in a bucket. It is in many weathers that a tall lanky snail circles a circuit in a rally car. Very very fast. Well done. There is a crown and a bursting champagne bottle whose antics on the plane were quite rude and non productive. However showering the podium with released bubble is quite a feat of engineering and requires precision mathematics too. So never ever become intoxicated if holding a compass, a text book, six lined sheets of paper, ten pencils and an organic cheeseburger with salad. Marketing making money moguls merry. And the swimming curry is out for the day in the lake occasionally resting on a Papadopoulos papadum boat who whips a papaya to create a cocktail. How rather quaint that is isn't it? How many radiuses are there in a pear? And how many tents can be made from a single pair of tights? These are highly significant questions to ask at a time when the antipepiscides are at the protest. Rioting. And tootling along the lane came a little green car whose plan was ever only to drink copious amounts of tea at the inn of then. Saviour not a sanctified secretion of a sweet set of stagnant striped silk. And enter no password of hi dee hi on a billboard for frames are allowing much to pass by over the cliffs. So watch out if carrying ten cars, a wobbly bus, and a twelfth century castle for it is the marksman who are marking a book from a diocese, a school and a university of agha banks. Couple that then. Great. Hahaha fantasy fig floating around hahaha banana bandana bringing bee balancing. Xxxxx metropolitans z
Form:

Premium Member Monoku Monday - Feb 2021

"Book Worms"   Posted 1 Feb 2021

i'm reading a book about anti-gravity      I can't put it down

that bio of Led Zeppelin's guitarist      is a real Page turner

don't miss this: "Dummies For Dummies"    by Charlie McCarthy and Lamb Chop

i'll admit there is a time and place for books      in my hand and right now

in one college course we read books about candy      the class was Choc Lit

today I got hit on the head by a book      I have my shelf to blame

[humor attribution: all humor found online of unknown origin]


"But Weight, There's More"   Posted 8 Feb 2021

for some of us during COVID      overeating is a weigh of life

when i feel plump i tell myself      i'm not overweight, i'm undertall

those who sell books on dieting      are living off the fat of the land

darwin's theory of sumo wrestling      the survival of the fattest

during lockdown, i'm on the seafood diet      i see food, i eat it

i saw my doctor and asked him what kind of shape i'm in      he said "pear"

[humor attribution - all were found online, of unknown origin]


"Groucho Marx Edition"   Posted 15 Feb 2021

if i said you had a gorgeous body      would you hold it against me?

i would never belong to a club     that would have me as a member

be open minded      but not so open minded that your brains fall out

i never forget a face      but in your case, i'll make an exception

i have had a perfectly wonderful evening      but this wasn't it

those are my principles and if you don't like them, well,       I have others

All humor attributed to the inimitable Groucho Marx


"Occupational Hazards"   Posted 22 Feb 2021

my dentist's motto      be true to your teeth or they will be false to you

bakers trade recipes with each other      on a knead to know basis

I called a budget exterminator     he came with a flyswatter

the butcher backed into the meat grinder      and got behind in his work

a back- and neck-straightener in Egypt is called      a Cairo practer

don't call me a plumber      I am a "broker in new and used water"

[Humor attribution - all humor found online, attribution unknown]
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Monoku

Oasis

Oh my dear warmly womb,                                                    You are my lovely home,                                                      where I have grown                                                            before I was born,                                                                     
 My home is an oasis.                                                           where I can escape                                                               from life's rigors                                                                      Like an oasis                                                                             
 you are a peaceful abode                                                         
 in my every day lives                                                                
 No cry, no worry, no sound,                                                    
 Are you a harmonious place?                                                
 My urine makes fluid.                                                             and fills the hollow                                                                 pear shaped womb                                                             
 where I take rest                                                                     
 and develop.                                                                                  I sleep all the days                                                                    
 but I sense my mom's                                                        voice, touch and rub,                                                                     
 I can feel her.                                                                            heat, cold and pressure too.                                                  And react to taste and smell                                               
 while in the oasis.                                                                   Like an oasis.                                                                             you give good shelter                                                              
 and long protection.                                                                      to the babies like me .
Form: Narrative

50 Words For Poe: Dactyl

“50 Words for Poe: dactyl”



When Terror Fell came
he had no complaints

the joint was jumping
it was do or dare
he offered Her his old pear
the porridge here was so glum

She closed the door 
to the window of his cell
and sucked on Her plum

She was thinking, a dangerous thing in itself, indeed,
that next time peaches, not pears would be fun 
She’d tighten his straight jacket some
fingers and toes to be free

She’d observe him for a while
there was the pressing issue
of The Others let loose on the run  
joie de vivre, gone all bat**** wild

there was still the report to write
an extra dose of Laudanum prescribed
She’d blindfold him and buzz him electric
then instruct him to write poems didactic

delusions of grandeur 
fingers and toes playing piano
with the other dementors to be denied
he was manic - full of too much ego and arrogant hurt pride

All in a day’s work
He was safe in his cell
or so he thought ...

counting numbers
the seconds tick by

he'd gladly wait 
for Hell's Bride

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)



https://youtu.be/mGYUV76Lhic




“In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.” 




https://youtu.be/CoA4goulmMo




“Silver dust
lifted from the earth
higher than my arms reach,
you have mounted.
O silver,
higher than my arms reach
you front us with great mass;
 
no flower ever opened
so staunch a white leaf
no flower ever parted silver
from such rare silver;  

O white pear
your flower-tufts,
thick on the branch,
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.”
(H.S. 1886 - 1961, The Pear Tree)



https://youtu.be/PgqHi5HkBRk



"before I am lost, 
hell must open like a red rose 
for the dead to pass"






For the Lost, out of their cell still serving time in Hell.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d#tab-poems


Premium Member voyeur

cold rain
to slow-streak the
glass I watch you through -
you and your
christ ...
the ginger bread man,
sugar daddy savior, all that
I was not, (and less) ...
choices of
compromise, to provide
the lifeblood of your
"needs" ...

you, admiring
your bullion reflection in a
shimmering bottle of Armand de Brignac,
smiling for your
'badder' half -
a manufactured laugh for
the fools about who
find your pout a
bit too pretentious,
conscientious that the
pear-shaped
D/flawless Winston that
tickles thy freckled
cleavage, speaks as loud as
the painted bows
above, my dear love,
(once) ...

now I'm
just a jester, the
crowning kid of skid row, and
you'll never know I
eyed your trim - spied you
with him, picking a
bone in the
bistro I used to own,
with Sir Steadfast, but
alone - so aptly
and achingly alone ...
extrovert of extroverts,
yet you're EVER
unattended ...
even 'friended' to the max,
'midst stacks of your
fairest fans,
(and man), your loneliness
strangles - dangled on a fraying
rope of hope ...
a wish that life holds
more than your
this ...

my station
now mended, I've
ended my peerless peering, time
for steering my Wal-Mart
cart to that
toxic box under the bridge,
the fridge that I
call home ...
I turn and push, warmed by the
squeak-squeak music
of the wheels,
makes me feel all warm
inside ... I chuckle
out loud when I think
of you and your scarecrow-on-
a-cross, all warm ...
inside ...

I spin my
buggy 'round, just
digging the sound, and the thought now
searing my marrow -
oh, such delight, the slings and arrows!
now I'm back outside your
restaurant, you and "he" are on
task - Baked Alaska
flaming sweetly,
so I neatly ball my fist
and ... SLAM!

BAM! CRASH!!
with a flash, (and the
wryest smile - not used in a while),
the glass is shattered,
as I'm Mad Hattered in my
lovely Goodwill coat and weeping
wrists - stormy
mists and sad patter of the
reddened rain ...
now, just a bloody stain upon
your pretty pair, (a bonus - my onus)
I don't look up to
meet your startled stares ...
but stoop to
pick a shard, and
pocket it with utmost care ...

at least
my chest thrums,
I muse - you ...
have not heart enough to
share this broken
window's
pain.

Happy Birthday George Andrew Dunning

would what that be junior? senior? sophomore?

since this brother in law rarely emails, 
     ye may scrunch countenance puzzled, 
     or on verge of emitting flatulence, 
     that if a ripper got let loose (by Jack), 

     would possibly find ja propelled, 
     thru Edgar Allan Poe's churchly 
     sepulchral tintinnabulation 
     (where for greater effect

     yukon envision imagistic ravenous bats 
     in belfry resonating air,
or perhaps blasted back 
     to the House of the rising sun), 

     BUT...gnome hatter, 
     no win tent may starkly appear
explaining inexplicable reasonable rhyme, 
     why aye dash communique 

    minus virtual trumpeting blare 
(sorry, but in the interest 
     of belated birthday cheer, 
without computer generated imagery) 

     rendered hoop fully readable, 
     sans black and white Scottish matted pixels 
constituting beloved appellation 
     unsure how to address ye perfectly clear

while sitting atop padded office chair,
pondering as already writ, 
     how to acknowledge thee, whither with dear...
meanwhile, this scribe experiences 

     comfortably numb derriere,
now scrambling, resorting, and toying 
     to fetch acceptable, catchy light hearted endear
mint, that seems tolerably acceptable 

     (of course) with flair 
acutely perceptive, though NOT overboard with glare
ring obeisance, NOR USE ALL CAPS 
     TO SCREAM so ye kin hear  

soap hull ease excuse this incurable 
     Harris scribe with thinning heir 
yes...oye gevalt, infantile regression finds me 
     burrowed in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania lair

still emotionally inchoate, though grown a mere
speck within the flotsam and jetsam near
to boyhood Collegeville abode NOT saved by a prayer
re: home companion bachelor Norwegian farmer

replaced instead by vinyl city 
     all in the name of progress
which (once a pawn a time) 
     open farmland did dis app pear

so...a gam bulling gambit 
     to avoid moseying down Level Road... 
may NOT seem *****
for insufferable sadness 

     with eyes bursting with many a tear...
(gulp) tis best to veer
away from topic uh viz er rated razed homestead, 
     and mainly wish ye another birth year!

adieu...from math tha hue
Form: Lyric

September Daze Haint Sapphire Away

Already the month
     of August 2018,
     May never become 
     a je June'm
     (Forget-me-not)
     time of year,
especially for nouveau
     homeless and,
 
     penniless residents,
     (now more like worrier),
     who reside in the
     (burnt to a crisp)
     Golden State where,
towering uncontrollable
     wild fire infernos veer
really did tax mental,

     physical, and spiritual 
     oye vey iz mare (to
     the bajillion power
     of Google Plex) their
heirlooms, mementos, 
     and trappings of
     das kapital lifestyle
     went up in smoke,

     which tragedy didst seer
the eyes (yes, iz traumatic,
     but also the air)
     looms with toxic 
     particulate matter,
     though concerned former
     propertied owners
     (now ashen faced)

     as utter grief doth rear
a scorched (bumping) ugly head,
     yet the onset of Autumn,
     (and the main
purport of this poem)
     (oh my dog, that twill be
     in approximately three weeks,
when Eastern Orthodox Church

     denotes beginning of ecclesiastical
     annum mull house
     for straight or *****
(these times opening
     doors to LGBT, or GLBT
     (an initialism that
     stands for lesbian,
     gay, bisexual, and transgender),

     nonetheless history
     replete with app pear
chock full of factoids such as:
     September (Latin septem,
     "seven") with near
exhaustive steeped in
     pagan glory of antiquity.

Ancient Roman observances
for September include:
Ludi Romani, originally celebrated
September 12 - September 14,

later extended to
September 5 to September 19.
In 1st century BC, an extra day added
in honor of deified
Julius Caesar on 4 September.

Epulum Jovis held: September 13.
Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22.
Septimontium celebrated September, and
December 11 on later calendars

September called "harvest month"
in Charlemagne's calendar.
September corresponds partly to
Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire

of first French republic.
On Usenet, September 1993
(Eternal September) never ended.
September called Herbstmonat,
harvest month, in Switzerland.

The Anglo-Saxons called
month Gerstmonath,
barley month, that crop
then usually harvested.
Form: Imagism

Premium Member Wen Hairy Met Tarry

(Revised with new homophone added in. Thanks for the catch, Becca!)

*Wants upon **uh thyme inn uh would, uh vary gneiss prints named Hairy
met inn the missed, hi awn the bow of uh tree- uh ferry named Tarry.

The ferry felt lo, fore he was week, and he was inn knead of sum meet.
He bald, “Whoa is me. Eye cant even stand hear awn my own too feat!

My pour hart is braking, and I’m inn  pane. The last thyme that eye eight
was daze ago. Ewe sea,  I’m inn uh hays and due naught feel sow grate.

Eye parish and long fore whine and ham. Even bettor wood bee lam!
Butt eye wood settle four uh peace of bred with sum suite bury jam!”

Prints Hairy new he had sum mince, sum Tick Tax that **whir inn the pear
of gnu read genes he war. He took them out  and waived them inn the heir.

*“Lickerish to, eye halve write hear!” Prints Hairy tolled the ferry.
“Its naught much, butt pleas dew eat. Later awn, wheel dyne and make marry.”

Prints Hairy placed the ferry Tarry aun his pail ***wight hoarse.
Then aweigh the roil with the ferry hastened aun his homeward coarse.

Awl day long they road and road.  ***Wen the ferry started to grown.
Suddenly, from the hoarse, both the man and ferry whir throne. 

Hungrily they paste beneath the setting son and threw the knight.
They pressed awn until mourning. Hairy’s residents came inn cite!

Prints Hairy’s wife had supper ready, and she’d maid uh pi.
From udder happiness, the ferry thought that he mite dye!

She *heeded up they’re food four them. They both had groan sew pail!
She listened as the ferry Tarry tolled his tragic tail .  .  .

of  how heed lost his weigh and, four food, had knot won crumb
until her deer spouse rescued hymn. At last, his prints had come!


Written April 10, 2015, using homophones from various lists. 
Note: I did not use letters, for example, U for “you” ; they were not on the lists I found.
Neither was “hee” which I was going to use for “he.”
The main list used was The HOMOPHONES LIST of John F Troutman and Joy A Miller
* these are a few more homophones I found on Wikipedia’s list.
** these homophones appear on Homophones.com, perhaps the most comprehensive one. 
*** These homophones, perhaps antiquated, are from Suber & Thorpe British English
Form: Couplet

Caribbean Summer Love

My carribbean summer love
 Was Morning sun in the sand
 On the sweet Jamaican island
 Home of my mothers birth, land.

As I got off the plane, 
I knew I was home.
Warm winds blowing on my face.
So, Gentle was the breeze
"Lord have mercy", 
whats happening to me?

  I went, to my destination
  I walked, Down to the sea. 
  The heart was filled with such glee,
  As sunshine, beamed down on me.

My breakfast was filled, 
With fresh vegitation.
Ground provisions of every kind.
Fruits from every tropical tree,  
It was simply, devine.

  The sweetest fruit, I tasted.  
  Wasn't a apple, plum or pear.
  It was a delicious mango,  
  that even Adams, girlfriend,
  Eve would, not share.
 
I had such, great meditation.  
It wasn't, on material things
It was just the lovely feel of nature, 
blessing, my surroundings.

  The oceans mesmerizing, 
  Blue Crystal skys, as clear as Can be.  
  It was so magnificent & amazing, 
  pure tranquility.
 
My eyes could not believe.  
Lush green landscape, 
The sway, of coconut trees.
Vibrant colours,  red, yellow and green , 
flowers decorated, my scenery.
The smell of the oceans breeze,  
just captivating

  I had to stop and ask GOD, is this heaven? 
  As I continued,  on my journey.

The next stop was Dunns River falls,
Streaming, from the river, into the ocean floor.
I climbed each rock carefully, 
 just in awe of this raw, natural beauty.


  Raindrops trinkling, the air so fresh & clean.
  I felt so free & alive, thought I was daydreaming

Didnt need a watch, Roosters crowing
Hourly, Tic toc, on the dot, as time briefly stopped.
To marvel, at this creation.  
No scientist on earth, could ever top!!

  Later that evening, the moon lit my way, 
  to where, I could hear Sweet Reggae music play.  
  Everyone was dancing from soca, pop, to R&B.  
  The rhythmic sounds all around, At a big beach party.


  I had jerk chicken, on the beach as fried fish was cooking near
                         
                          Deliciousness, filled the air

                          Love was the atmosphere.

Simple living, smiles always giving.  No worries or cares,
                           My Caribbean summer love
                           true,  Happiness, being there!!

Contest. Summer Day
Posted 6/17/13
Form: Rhyme

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