Long Pelican Poems
Long Pelican Poems. Below are the most popular long Pelican by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pelican poems by poem length and keyword.
Android, light a fire!
Melt down metal and stone.
Forge of these a wire.
O hateful, hold thy own!
Hordes of havoc, ride with fate!
Loose thy battle cry!
Warrior, thy will is hate!
Compel these to die!
Sigh, O waiting ladies?
Not readily, good sir.
Look up at the Pleiades!
Reality, just blur...
Automaton, black abyss!
Apocalypse; kiss.
Flock of pelican, fish. Grow, gris.
Serpent coiling, hiss.
Bile and blasphemy, break. Be.
All tomorrow, flee.
Beat of my heart, suddenly!
Vision means to see...
Cold confusion, coffee cake!
Help a brother out!
Vampire, do ye fear the stake?
Dragon, do ye doubt?
Flame eternal, burn within!
Blanch, O fire of Sin!
Scorching heat of oven? In!
What ye dream, begin!
Light of spark and intellect!
Brilliant is thy glow!
Raven of fate, how you pecked!
Necked and tossed below!
Chain unbroken, forge. Deep gorge.
Weathervane, point. Sight.
Unit twenty, thou art corge.
One it takes to fight...
Show me a place where I can be in a little island far above the sea where the skies touch the hills and transmit a message to my window sill. Show me a place where I can be to touch your heart and sing sweet melodies to thee and when the night rings out in the skies I will gaze at the stars and sing you a sweet lullaby. It seems just like yesterday when you kneel down at my bedside to pray and the moon was my covering and the miracle appears in the morning.
Show me a place where I can be to join your friends and company, a place that bears its bosom in the sea and I can lay my head in the sand and sing sweet melodies for thee.
Show me a place where I can be to romance with the fish in the great big sea, to ride out in the fishing boat and catch some trout. I would hold the sword fish by its mouth and put the Atlantic cod in my bag. I would catch hundreds of mackerel for my deceased dad and put the great white shark in a chokehold.
I would catch some red mullet and make some Barramundi tea for you, and catch the mahi-mahi for the aquarium and prepare the haddock and anchovies for dinner and reserve the red seabream for supper.
Show me a place where I can be to find peace and tranquility, to listen to the birds in the hill as they fly from tree to tree and watch the pileated woodpecker conversing with the bald eagle. The robin and the pelican have nothing in common but when the sorrow join them, they can sing a happy song.
I can see you standing there yearning to join me over here, your heart is real and you are full of zeal and the artic loon will meet with you at noon accompanied by the cormorants, the great auk, dovekie and the storm petrels.
Show me a place where I can be so that I can spend quality time with thee. Take me to Gibraltar in a boat and leave me at the French border with white wine and steak frites. Show me a place where I can be.
I have mentioned this before…yes, it’s something many of you have heard…
without my glasses…when I look around…my vision is quite blurred.
I suppose that’s why in life…I love the color grey…
walking in the fog…and paintings by Monet.
Walking on the beach the other morning…they sky changed from blue to grey
and when the fog settled over us it was like walking in a painting by Monet.
Once the fog surrounded us Deborah said, “I forgot how beautiful the fog can be.”
I smiled and reminded her…without my glasses…this is the world I see.
Then Deborah…hoping for more height…stepped upon a fallen log…
and pointed into the distance saying…”Is that a pelican in the fog?”
The beauty of seeing a pelican in the fog for me…to her I quickly exclaimed…
is with or without the fog…that pelican looks the same.
When I was young I thought of my blurred vision as a reason for discontent…
something to feel sorry for…a handicap to lament…
But as I’ve grown older…perhaps I’ve also grown a little more wise…
because I’ve come to see my blurred vision as a blessing in disguise…
Deborah finds beauty in that pelican in the fog…only when fog comes her way…
but I’ve been blessed to find pelicans in the fog, anytime of any day.
Which makes me stop and give thanks every now and then…that the creators found a way
to create me not with perfect eyes…but with the eyes of Claud Monet
What brought me to this sullen shore...
is not sheer curiousity at all,
but an equivocal question too hard to be answered
even by those whose minds are so cultured!
Pelicans swarm the February's frigid sky over the bay...
like clumsy butterflies greeting a spring's day;
it's past sunrise, and all clouds catch on fire,
fleeting to the western sky to avoid the infernal dire!
I take a brisk walk adventuring in the gelid wind's blows...
as the agitated waves indicate an imminent storm;
unafraid , I lean over the fortress's stones with hands so cold,
to feel the vengefulness of a sea frightening all humans!
It's Saturday mid-morning, I hear a shrill filled with emotion,
and a shivering pelican comes close to where I stand;
he doesn't want the crumbs in my generous hand,
but understanding and much more compassion!
If he could talk and tell of his plight so unspeakable...
I'd listen and make a promise for his survival...
where once limpid waters rolled so brightly,
painted in gold by the solar glow, now they look too murky!
Does he feel great animosity toward us...
we, who build and destroy, kill and terrorize?
And what made him turn to me so fearlessly;
and will we, rulers of this earth, show hiim some mercy?
I can hear footsteps walking on the shores and the waves
rumbling from door to door looking for the stranger
in its midst who has the heart to forgive and
the pelican with its long beak searching earnestly
for something amusing to eat. I can hear the door bells ringing
And the stranger singing while the truth with its open guts
rises slowly with the morning sun looking at destiny smiling
I can hear the mad waves over yonder bashing against the anchor
penetrating the dark corners where the ellipse has closed in
The distance keeps rolling by waiting for the midnight cry that resonates with the stranger singing in the midst
It is that feeling that you get when courage is flying high in the air
and hope is wrapped up where destiny is bound
And the day with all its busyness opens the doors for winter gladness
the sorrows of yesterday is already passed and gone and
the skies have breathe a sigh of relief for the bold
stranger whose heart has opened the globe.
My god, red bra, orange pants, and green socks, I’m making love to a traffic light.
Get on with it.
I can’t, where do I start.
What does it matter?
It matters a lot, if I start with your bra, do I stop, or do I drive on knowing three penalty points and an eighty pound fine are coming my way. Do I start with your pants, amber gambling, if I start with your socks, then that’s it, I’m away?
Well, what do you expect me to do.
I expect you to dress appropriately for the occasion, I mean, Gok Wan couldn’t fix you.
Well, if we’re in an insulting mood, I don’t like the tiger pants you wear, especially as tigers are nearly extinct.
Oh god, did you really say that, I’m going out with a moron, 0.5 wit.
What does that mean?
It means you’re a half wit.
Well, I was going to get naked, and put my duffle coat on to get you excited, but not now.
Just what every guy wants, a naked girl in a duffle coat.
Some guys would die to see me naked in a duffle coat.
Do you know, you’re right, I've now got this fantasy in my head, put on an orange hat, and wow, pelican crossing.
Get knotted, and I tell you now, that’s the only action you’ll get tonight
Well, in that case I’ll just have to create a fantasy
On he went with it, hallucinating vividly while she stood there, unarmed and furious.
Hell, she was already horny, maybe she could save the situation. She looked down at her pants.
You know, you could still drive, if you haven't already crossed the line.
His eyes opened quickly, as if trying to catch her lying. He considered it...
Lose the bra and the socks
Lose the tiger get up
Both coming halfway, they now stood in the bedroom, one more naked than the other. Still a little insulted, she went on to caress his member.
He, too stubborn to show his pleasure, gazed at the ceiling, feigning boredom.
Furious, she slapped him across his face with a high-pitched shriek, picked up her things and walked towards the door, getting dressed on the go.
Realizing he had gone too far and that he was now all up and running, he tried to change her mind.
BAM went the door.
She'll call.
She is many things,
like what Spring brings to shivering wings,
creatures like us sing from her touch, fly to her much,
feeding from the everlasting song her beauty transmits,
Linda's face is always strong, sage, and sensuous
as a symbol of liberty that says to the fatigued free thinker
you have more to achieve, to believe,
don't rest until you've won, trust in now,
PD. is the perfect noun with the most,
unwise to show envy towards her
for she has earned all her roses & garlands
knows suffering more than most, throws inspiration to those in need
like a pelican weeps and swoons
in the blood of self sacrafice, loving us, telling us we're the fuss,
she'll cry with you and then shock One into strength,
slam boom bam you if you fail to admire her Divine Genius,
teaching by taking the first step,
I love Linda because she is the greatest I know,
the sweetest and the wisest in the show,
her feather teaches me, her heart reaches me,
Linda is my Sphinx,
giving heavenly links, expelling my jinx -
This write is dedicated to Linda, aka. Poet Destroyer, my Sphinx
for her birthday - she is ageless, and her life is a gift to me -
with love & respect - J.A.B.
Gentle lapping water
rolls sequently onto shore
like tiny crystals highlighted by the shining sun.
Blackened tree stumps stand
like soldiers on watch.
A pelican skins across the surface of the lake
in search of a tasty morsel
beneath murky waters.
The lazy dog basking in the sun
lifts an eyelid;
undisturbed
he resumes his peaceful nap.
Campfires send
spiralling puffs of smoke
upwards,
carried away wit the wind
followed by another smoke signal.
The sandy banks
with mounds of trodden turrets
lay in wait
fir creatures on dusk
patrol
seeking nightly nourishment.
The setting sun slowly
sinks
sending silver shimmers
across the lake.
Again as nightfall
descends
another day closes.
We have this cute little bird house we keep on our patio
We didn’t know who would use it, perhaps a chickadee or a crow
It’s too small for a pelican or an eagle to make a den
so, we thought, perhaps a blue jay, a cardinal or a wren.
One day to our surprise we saw something in the birdhouse lurking about…
On closer inspection the hole was almost completely covered and there was something peeking out.
I think, at first she was startled and that’s what made her stir…
“I wonder if she’s angry.” Deborah asked, “that we’re disturbing her.”
We weren’t sure what we were looking at…she was very hard to see
“She can’t be angry." I replied. “She’s staying here rent free!”
When we finally realized what she was…we thought it a bit absurd…
There’s a bee living inside our birdhouse…that thinks she is a bird.
So we have us a bee lodger…who now peeks out to say hello
from the safety of a birdhouse where she’s free to come and go.
We are anxious to see what happens…our imagination has been spurred
by this little bee we can hardly see..who thinks she is a bird.
She’s been living there for weeks now…her life protected, secure and stable
and I’m pretty sure, by the wire I see, that she’s stealing our cable.
And the other day when she had a packaged delivered I smiled at our new family paradigm…
wondering how a bee in a birdhouse has access to Amazon Prime!
But we don’t mind her idiosyncrasies as the lines between us have become a little blurred…
by the bee who lives in our back yard…who thinks she is a bird.
The morning dew spreads out on the grass adding moisture to the thirsty ground, the birds gather in the treetop flying around in curbs, and circling the interior of the earth.
They are trying to tell how the earth was formed and what to do at the break of dawn; one by one they fly into the air and stands on logs far and near, while the shirtless men roamed through the woods looking confused and dismayed as they clear ground to pitch tents for the refugee in the town.
A sudden rush of optimism surrounds me and the uncertainties that were buried in the ground starts cracking the earth and spewing dirt around.
It wasn’t quite like it used to be because some boats were still struggling in the deep sea, they have not been on shore for many months, fire and sticks were driving them back and they could not find a rope to dock, but the tug boat kept pulling it until it finally crossed the threshold.
I could feel a touch of harmony floating at a high altitude and the trees and branches starts dancing, but chaos was resting on the other end of town.
The pelican and a lion was fighting in the den, the horse tried to intervene and got severely burned on its heel, they tore its shoe apart and it was left to wander in the dark, and the night owl boot the merciless lion out of the town but hope ligers around.
The animals are sensitive too they sit and scrutinize me and you, the tree is there to bear witness how they try to assinated me and you. The plan was one year in the making and it was ruthless and painstaking.
Every detail was worked out from the base to the crown, but destiny would not have it go that way, a miracle was just in time to drive the dark clouds away.
When division is found among you, offer the olive branch for a lamp and a shoe and when the ducks come around throw some corn on the ground.
And so the birds began to gather around and the big plan was made to evacuate the town but many people did not have anywhere to go, and so they held their course and spread out all over the town but the wind snatch them two by tow in a secret mission out of the turbulent town.