Long Phosphorus Poems
Long Phosphorus Poems. Below are the most popular long Phosphorus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phosphorus poems by poem length and keyword.
The Shadow of the Violet Bird
The violet bird sleeps in water that has no name and no shore,
its feathers falling slow and heavy over a city of smoke and glass,
there we will meet, when time has no face left and no name at all,
in the glass room where a foam-white sand keeps drifting down on us.
We'll carry on our shoulders the gloves forgotten in every old house,
and the eyelids of those who once loved will open again, unmatched,
small phosphorus fireflies will burn our skin with a mute little flame,
and the dream lodged in our throats, like a bird, refuses to leave.
Through black castles where the twilight washes its ashen hands,
the wax heads of unwanted women call out to us in secret,
heavy curtains hide behind them a knife and an old mirror,
and past them sleeps an angel with no body and no match.
The lost star of morning watches us with hollow glass eyes,
sleepwalkers cross the rain with steps of wax and tar,
and everything we ever loved burns in us like a living coal,
a small violet fire that will not, no matter what, go out.
We slept so long, and so deep, inside our own heavy dream,
that we lost the habit of staying still, even for a moment,
the violet bird flew off long ago from our hollow chest,
leaving behind only the ash of a dream and an echo of longing.
---
Am pastrat imaginile si ritmul frazei lungi, dar am lasat versurile sa respire natural în engleza, fara sa fortez o traducere silaba-cu-silaba. Spune-mi daca vrei un ton mai crud/mai dur, sau unul mai fluid si mai liric.
This gentleman's sport,
Brings up my youth,
To stadium transport,
Fans and emulators of Babe Ruth.
When I was young,
We sat in the cheap seats.
Big family among.
On metal bleachers, a butt heats.
At our feet,
Peanut shells in piles,
So many we eat,
While the game beguiles.
I watch the balls fly,
Trajectories rather vast,
Oh, look! How High!
While the baserunners move fast.
Dad would talk at games,
Which we did not witness a lot.
He knows the player's names?!
His vocabulary is more than I ever thought.
Injuries occur,
But tis not a bloodsport,
Which is what we prefer,
For spectator comfort.
A moment in time,
We root for players to succeed,
Hit a homer, catch a fly, sublime,
And the other team's score impede.
Some fans want their team to win.
Others enjoy watching the game as a whole.
Whatever the reason,
This game our heart stole.
If the game is long,
Better conversations can be had,
Fans try to get along,
Or don't, and that's bad.
Japan's favorite sport,
Provides America many a powerhouse,
A valuable import,
And welcome addition to the clubhouse.
A sport that makes fans sing,
Stretch, move, and dance,
Up collective tookis bring,
All the more body condition and game experience to enhance.
Let's go to a ball game,
With fans abound,
Expletives exclaim,
Until the winning team is crowned.
On Fireworks Night,
Music and vision astound,
Phosphorus in flight,
Friends and magical experience surround.
Your Phosphorus, twinkles as the morning star -
lovely Venus...how beautiful you are.
Your Hesperus, sparkles as the evening star -
how enchanting to see you from afar.
Named for the Goddess of love, divine,
when the sun is up, still you shine.
If one knows where in the sky you're residing,
he can see you coyly hiding.
Poets, you would always beguile,
but now, scientists, too, find you worthwhile,
sending crafts to sidle by your side,
immersed in atmospheric carbon dioxide.
Up close, your beauty transforms to doom,
Our probes, your heat will instantly consume.
Is it fiery love, passion, or CO2?
See what a greenhouse gas can do!
Mesmerised to watch marvellous Mountain View
with charismatic charms of CASCADE
on continuous free fall.
Sun is down bidding bye to fading twilight.
Evening is slowly merging to turquoise night.
Descent nascent crescent Moon peeps
with shimmering glaze.
A SERPENTINE silhouette spreads over starry tapestry
with a MYRIAD of blue sapphires twinkling on hazy NEBULA
under enchanting LUNAR panorama.
Vibrant waterfall is dancing frolic
in opulence of aqua flow
from chasms of rigid mountain
to LILT in mellifluous tune
as if to entertain night farmament
staying in silent mode.
Small stones broken from rocks to SLITHER.
Serene sublime night to resonate
with rhythmic dynamic waterfall.
Off and on water droplets sparkling
in PHOSPHORUS glow reflected
by soft soothing Moon beam.
Me floating on dream
drinking dormant desires.
what appeared to be poisonous was merely phosphorus
deeply tattooed into the warrior’s skin from an ambush
in the land of never-ending wars against imagined foes
with a myriad of causes cascading from power and greed
what does a Welshmen have to do in bloody Afghanistan
he used to have a lilt but now the speed impediment
was carved deep into the persona of horror shame and guilt
the snake had promised paradise not a distorted Adam’s apple
the stars had been bright connected by nebula and a waning moon
what an omen for the self-righteous soldier misguided of course
by fame glory and that now elusive war veteran’s pension
dole money merely covered the cost of the shack under the bridge
he attempted to count his blessings tried gratitude and the booze
which gave him some solace because blackouts were better than bombs
and the stink of his urine improved no end when vodka battled with vomit
but the protagonist never rose above the faceless evil of legalised slaughter
Jamun or Kala Jamun - we call it in India,
Black plum, Jambu, Jambool - for many, it's a mania;
In months of June end July; one could find young and old climb,
Sit over their branches; relish the fruits; as though pass-time...!
We've twenty trees in our garden; jamuns ethylene-ripe;
Fallen ones are tasty too; though look so stereotype;
Boys on branches, like pendulums, oscillate from both sides,
Like clowns in circuses, all through branches easily stride...!
The old woman who hurriedly picks, says it curative,
Of diabetes; it's anti-ulcer and digestive;
For disruptive functioning of kidneys, it's good, she says,
Have minerals and fibers; her experience does whiz...!
I enjoy Java plums so much; all through June and July,
Vitamin, iron, and phosphorus in big quantity;
Keep internal and external organs felicitous,
Being, in each food-act, sensible and solicitous...!
Is it enough to think of these trees during fruit-seasons?
Do we plant saplings and care for younger generations?
Bharat was known as jambudvipa, land of jambu trees,
Is it not our duty eternally to protect these...???
16 August 2022
Your Thoughts On Blackberries Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
"HUMAN"
WE are stardust
CHNOPS
6 essential
building blocks
Carbon
Hydrogen
Nitrogen
Oxygen
Phosphorus
Sulphur
somewhere Cobalt and Gold
On the stockmarket
we could be worth
$46 million each and sold
for what our body contains
Bone Marrow
Heart
Lungs
Kidneys
Brain
Eyes
and
DNA...
and then some
literature relays;
53% water, salt tears
oceans’ memory
ancient and old
4.5 billion years
with an error range
of 50 million years
or so, we’re told -
Chemical elements
different atom types
created during a
Supernova explosion
a brilliant point of light
the death of a star
that has reached the
end of it’s life
the DEATH of a star
created from a point
of LIGHT
distributes and
gives BIRTH to life.
A Supernova burns
only for a short period
of time
life and death
death and life
Electric particles
Souls of Light
from a Universal womb
rushing through
a molecular wormhole
to commence all
over again
in another body
of solid matter
covering
electric particles -
bodies that are shells
containing beings of light
life and death
death and life
ashes to ashes
dust to Stardust
We are human
LIGHT IS LIFE
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
B-52: a city on its own.
You mess with us, we’ve got technology.
I loved it when we flew into the zone:
as Ernie said, “We’ll kill ’em till they’re free.”
My job? To watch the black cascade of death
and myriad explosions in the woods:
Louisiana lilt – “You hold your breath,”
that’s Ernie’s voice – “delivering the goods!”
The pretty serpentine of falling bombs
that seemed to slither through the virgin air
distracted me from pilot intercoms,
and radar monitors’ unblinking glare.
We didn’t think – I only speak for me –
you’d have to ask my buddies on the crew,
if any made it out – of those VC,
or what our “dirty chemicals” might do
to people down below. We went along
with what they told us, Audie Murphy-like.
Neil Armstrong was, to us, just one word – “strong”.
And dinks and gooks could go and take a hike.
That lunar surface. Nothing down there moved.
“I guess they won’t be planting no more rice,”
- that’s Ernie. Our sophistication proved,
we sang the Sound of Music (Edelweiss).
By accident, I saw a TV Show
last week, some fancy name, “Unceasing Toil”,
about those peasants. Watching HBO
is not my thing. It said we wrecked their soil
and killed their trees. Who, me? I don’t know squat.
The gorgeous nebula when napalm bursts
is fun from up on high. I’ll tell you what.
Phosphorus bombs beat all your Damien Hirsts.
Racism. Trying to prove ones skin tone or ethnicity is superior to another’s.
Why we let a such word control society is beyond the human brain.
Why it is unfathomable to process we are all made of the same thing; but different because of how we come? Incomprehensible.
Why most are unable to understand that being baked in a different bakery, at a different temperature, slower or faster, rising more quickly than others or not; is a perfect example of how close minded we have become. Do your conditions not make you not bread?
We are all made of the same things, carbon mostly. Along with Oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus.
Yet because the outer coating of someone’s body, that has nothing to do with what kind of person they are, they are targeted as a lesser class.
Elaborate why, when all the things, that all races have discovered,and accomplished are so completely amazing, we still discriminate?
Did you know the three light-stop-light was invented by an African American? Or that Thomas Edison collaborated with an African American scientist who created the most vital part of the light bulb?
Not only is the actual racism a problem, it’s the misleading term that gets most people.
You are not a racist if you dislike a person with the same skin color of your own; only if you dislike the whole population of people, because of their skin color.
We could move so much further towards making the world a happier place. We could bring together whole communities and end all slurs in one fell swoop. We need this change, for future generations. If only we could only see past what is another persons pigmentation.
We are a species of infinite curiosity, with the resources and assistance to satisfy it. We as a whole, every single color, race, ethnicity, religion, we have created so much beauty.
But we let skin color define us.
Everyone is a blended mixture of
Elementals made up of
Oxygen, carbon,
Hydrogen, nitrogen,
Calcium, phosphorus, and…
Trace elements
A divine recipe, perhaps?
Some are yet to be born
Some are young,
Some are old.
Some are people of color,
Some are people who lack color.
Some speak one language
Some speak many tongues.
Some are social
Some are antisocial.
Some are healthy
Some are sick.
But what am I?
Some are poor
Some are middle-class
Some are rich.
Some believe in God
Some sense a higher design
Some aren’t sure
Some are atheists.
Some are extroverts
Some are introverts.
Who am I?
Some live on farms
Some live in suburban communities
Some live in towns and cities.
Some live off the grid
Some are liberal
Some are moderate
Some are conservative.
How shall I live?
Some are loving
Some are joy-filled
Some are hate-filled.
Some want peace
Some want a cause
Some want war.
Some want to destroy
Some want to mend
Some want to kill
Some want to heal.
Should I matter?
Should I not?
What are my choices?
Everybody dies…
But do I truly live?
In this vast simplexity of humanity
Or am I more than the sum of the parts?
Or am I just a glitch of stardust
Or a spark of the divine?
Momentarily aware
Yet, unaware
Forever in BlueJeans…
Forever questioning?