Long Photographer Poems
Long Photographer Poems. Below are the most popular long Photographer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Photographer poems by poem length and keyword.
Robert Sherriff 08/07/1954 - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer - Actor - American Historian – Photographer
The Rising Tide of Cyber Warfare and Military Robotics
Robotics - Ex-Machina In the evolving landscape of modern warfare, cyber warfare and military robotics have emerged as pivotal elements reshaping global conflict dynamics. From covert cyber operations to autonomous drones patrolling warzones, these technologies redefine military strategies and geopolitical alignments. They said it all started at Westworld.
The Role of Cyber
Warfare in Modern Conflicts Cyber Warfare as a Strategic Asset - Inception Cyber warfare has transcended its initial role as a supplementary tactic to become a core component of military strategy. It enables state and non-state actors to achieve strategic objectives without deploying traditional military forces.
Through cyber espionage, denial-of-service attacks, and misinformation campaigns, nations can disrupt adversaries' operations, weaken their economies, and influence political outcomes, often without firing a single shot.
Case Study: Stuxnet or Sky-Net
One of the most notable examples of cyber warfare is the Stuxnet worm, a sophisticated malware that targets Iran's nuclear facilities. This cyber-attack, attributed to the United States and Israel, demonstrated the potential of cyber weapons to inflict physical damage on critical infrastructure, highlighting the strategic value of cyber capabilities in modern conflict.
Implications for Global Conflicts Cyber warfare's asymmetric nature allows smaller nations or groups to challenge superpowers, shifting the balance of power and introducing new uncertainties in international relations. The blurred lines between cyber actions and conventional warfare complicate responses and escalate tensions, increasing the risk of unintended consequences.
The Evolution of Military Robotics and Autonomous Systems - I, Robot
Advancements in Military Robotics The rapid advancement of military robotics, including drones and autonomous vehicles, is transforming the battlefield.
These systems enhance operational efficiency, reduce human casualties, and allow new tactical possibilities. For instance, drones provide real-time intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) capabilities, while autonomous ground vehicles support logistics and combat operations.
The elegant thoughts of a precious mind the computational formula of a wicked demise.
Conceptual seires of theories a conspiracy to seduce persuasive succulent poetry.
Wicked mistress of promiscuous thoughts succulent dreams aromas of fresh gratuities a blurring of mixtures to blended abstracts.
Funnels draining the gravity of intellectual force to persuade a complete set of cycling ways to convey. The Amoure of flashing movies pictured all in the thought whispering speeds of domesticating breeds many ways a heart bleeds. Bundles of delightful Joys the taste of blissful, many ways eye's see to conceive the thought.
The almonds of joy roasted to enjoy conceptual way of a thinking blinking fast ways of thoughts. Orchestra's of notes orchestrated instruments of Beethoven's musical symphonies. Genie in a bottle unleashing the mysterious, unveiling imaginative ways of cultivating the seeded flower to bloom.
Enduring the elegants of an elite Romance rhythm of a Romans aroma's to inhale changing the taste of eloquence.
The artist works mending fears transducing hours to love live love with the sweat of fears8.
Rome's architectural wonder the protects precise sculpture of a wordsmiths glamour. Struts the catwalk with a book 2 premiere, lives on set, broadcasting his heart to revere.
Prince's of prancnig dressing rooms, Broadway St of dramatic dramas, elterically shocking emotions paints new moon phases, mixture of Picasso's colors a dramatization of pain seats the audience.
Photographer of a pictured humanity, colors rainbows of negativity with brilliant prisms.
A King to lion's spiritual pride brilliance of a star, rearrange the theater's of studed premieres, lives with sentiments of love's lifetime unconditionally the greatest of philosophy.
Unique elegance of sun setting romance blinding the artist of a premiering wedding, preaching the marriage of universal energy.
Rays of hope displaying poetry of wholehearted hearted beauty.
The statue of persuasive values premiering spiritually harmonies the elegance of mankind.. Energies of unleashed imaginations dreaming of pots of gold, loving the insecurities of the worlds diversity walks the testimony of £ove.
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Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
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I’m just having a good laugh while I still can dude before life takes its heavy grip
Until the community of clowns in disguise tie my tongue to their altar of reason
You think of a genius in the making but I just blew bubbles from my backside
Need some counter balance as not to think I’m off parity before the next photo
For the record I’m a bit sick of all those Rolling Stones songs on your play list
I can get satisfaction and you will be dancing to my tune as long as I tell you
Not yet silenced I am and you can’t always get what you want but will receive
What you need and moss could grow fat on that stone if you tried hard enough
I am your American dream or just pie in the sky for pi is a resolute number
And while I look like a young Einstein I favour the arts and a poet I’ll be
‘Baby’s got blue eyes holding back the pain’ reflecting the glow on your face
Give me face paint and Munch’s scream will look like Monet’s water colours
And those cute little ears I hear you marvel such fine complete composition
Soon they will find an audition of rebellion ignoring trite shallow advice
Craft verses and rhythm deliver fine words you never dreamt of hearing
The comedy will be shattering with a bit of existential philosophy in the mix
You can project dadada’s and incy-wincy spiders as long as the cows mew
I drink from a fountain of pleasure and spill ink on your canvas of conditioning
Think that I am overanalysing but that is what you do when I smirk and giggle
Canned laughter comes in Campbell’s soup cans and better Warhol than wars
Innocent facial composure lies in the eye of beholders and dreams are for real
Let me play for that is the best I can do when drama and tragedy loom so soon
I’ll have my dreadlocks in plaits and you must not be scared of Sylvia’s mother
Van Gogh had one ear but a writer needs only one incisive tongue to critique
My stream will be subconscious when I write about the meaning of imagination
When naïve contortions depict a world with smiles laughter and freedom
I will not change much from when the photographer took this digital image
Blue eyes stuck out tongue two ears one voice whatever you make of it now
25th April 2019
Written for contest: Baby Face What's You Thinkin
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr
Photo 2
Saloon
Squeezed between office buildings
On lower Broadway
Desolate and out of the way
Faint neon sign marks the place
For the downtown art scene.
Poetry readings on Sunday afternoons
Only the regulars show up
Invited or not
Some mount the stage and
Recite a piece or two
To scattered applause.
The beat goes on
Summer nights fly by
No Sunday readings now
It’s Saturday and it’s a different place.
Crowd mingles
Three deep at the bar
A/C working on overtime while
Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On plays
Jazzy and soulful
A monster hit
To no one’s surprise.
A hangout for anyone
Bodies waiting to meet
An Agent.
Or maybe a Publisher.
Or a Rep.
Anybody. Somebody. Anyone know somebody important?
Naw, this ain’t the place
This is St. Adrian’s
A place for
Artists.
Writers.
Sculptors.
Working class dreamers.
Pretenders and losers.
Wannabes.
Lost children and
Casual loners on the prowl.
Carol, alone in a corner booth
Glass of white wine in her hands
On the rocks of course
Smiles at everyone like a Mona Lisa.
Jack Micheline
Bronx’ original Beat
Wrote River of Red Wine in ‘58
Manuscript under his arm
Waits for someone
To buy him a drink
Elaine, beautiful in a peasant blouse
Scent of musk oil like a halo
Motions
To the young men
Who watch her hands
Move like deadly weapons
Stan’s a photographer. Sleepy, one night
Left his equipment in a car
Morning arrives and
Broken windshield screams
You’ve been robbed.
Junior, a sculptor, needs rent money for a walkup in the East Village
Otherwise he’ll live on someone’s couch
Gil does commercials
Until he finds an old lady
Then Hollywood here he comes
And Glenn is a writer with lots of ideas
But no paper and no place to go.
No one asked what I did for money
Or where I lived.
I was accepted with a simple sitdownhaveadrink.
Sometimes there’d be ten of us
Squeezed in a booth or
Around a table
Talking and talking.
Any topic not important
Just to meet and forget for awhile
The nagging loneliness and rejection.
It’s well past midnight
Chairs scrape the floor and there’s an echo in the walls
Left behind are empty glasses and stale beer
As the place begins to empty out.
We leave
Hitting the still streets
Looking for a cab
Or the nearest subway
But before we do
We promise to meet again.
Under the mystical veil of a moonless night,
I am but a leaf carried by the unseen currents of time,
A feather in the wind, anchored to nothing, bound by no direction.
Each day calls to me with its silent voice,
Each night whispers ancient promises,
And my thoughts flow like an untamed river,
A cascade of dreams, fantasies, and forgotten memories.
I possess no center, only an unquenched desire to explore,
To delve into every crevice, every hidden corner of existence.
I could step through the door this very moment,
Leaving behind all that is known,
For nothing binds me here,
Not even the pulse of my own heart.
In the palm of my hand, the lines of heart and mind intertwine,
A single path, an undetermined destination.
I find solace in the languor of a Sunday afternoon,
Sipping beer, losing myself in reverie,
There is no compulsion to embody maturity,
For all adults merely play their parts,
In an elaborate charade, a delicate farce.
As you feel, so do I,
My thoughts are but the mirror of my emotions,
I see you today, and expect no change tomorrow,
I will not fear your descent into despair,
For I do not see death as an ending,
Merely a passing shadow, a fleeting presence.
Women place themselves at the dawn of stories,
Then spread like whispers through the fabric of the world,
Enigmatic and profound.
"The great cosmetic strangeness of the deeply normal person."
Those were the people, and I, a wanderer without a homeland,
Tethered to nothing but a thin thread,
A segment of life without form or structure.
The photographer, dark-skinned, and I, the writer, pale,
Parted ways at this point,
He shunned the vision, but I sought it,
For it lay before my eyes, undeniable,
And death, neither grand nor trivial,
Just a presence, or an absence, a nuance overlooked.
God, the progenitor of fervent religious impulse,
Poetio, the hunter of bears, not trains,
For the train will crush him beneath its relentless wheels,
And I always believed there was another way,
A necessity to find that elusive path,
And we bear witness to this necessity.
The sole distinction between men and women,
Is a labyrinth of trials and failures,
An eternal dance of existence,
In which we lose and find ourselves,
Under the mystical veil of a moonless night.
Robert Sherriff - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer - Actor - American Historian – Photographer
Has anyone seen my old friend? Abraham
In the ever-turning pages of history, specific years stand like pillars, holding up the weight of profound change: 1865, the year of the Civil War's end and the abolition of slavery; 1881, the year of President Garfield's assassination; 1901, the year of President McKinley's assassination and the rise of Theodore Roosevelt; and 1963, the year of President Kennedy's assassination and the Civil Rights Movement.
Will history repeat itself on January 12, 2025? Each of these years marks a moment of transformation, a shift in our nation's consciousness.
Remember 1865, when Abraham Lincoln's vision of unity and equality was cut short, yet his legacy ignited the flame of freedom that still burns bright.
Reflect on 1962 and the iconic moment when Marilyn Monroe serenaded a president, symbolizing the complex interplay between fame and politics. These were not just moments but testaments to the resilience and determination of these historical figures, inspiring us with their unwavering strength.
Recall the turbulent days of 1963, a year stained by the loss of John F. Kennedy, whose dreams of a new frontier were silenced by an assassin's bullet.
Honor Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., voices of a revolution that demanded justice and equality, their echoes are still heard in today's struggles.
Bobby Kennedy was a beacon of hope whose journey was tragically abbreviated, yet his call for peace and social justice continues to inspire. Like stars in the night sky, these figures illuminated the path to a more just and equal world.
These years, these figures shaped the world we live in. Their legacies remind us that change is born from courage, that progress demands sacrifice, and that the fight for equality and justice is not a chapter in history but an ongoing narrative that we all contribute to. It's a call to action, a reminder that the fight is not over, and we all have a role to play, emphasizing the urgency and importance of our contributions.
It's a collective effort, a shared responsibility that binds us together in this noble cause.
Robert Sherriff - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer - Actor - American Historian – Photographer
My old friend
In the ever-turning pages of history, specific years stand like pillars, holding up the weight of profound change: 1865, the year of the Civil War's end and the abolition of slavery; 1881, the year of President Garfield's assassination; 1901, the year of President McKinley's assassination and the rise of Theodore Roosevelt; and 1963, the year of President Kennedy's assassination and the Civil Rights Movement.
Will history repeat itself on January 12, 2025? Each of these years marks a moment of transformation, a shift in our nation's consciousness.
Remember 1865, when Abraham Lincoln's vision of unity and equality was cut short, yet his legacy ignited the flame of freedom that still burns bright.
Reflect on 1962 and the iconic moment when Marilyn Monroe serenaded a president, symbolizing the complex interplay between fame and politics. These were not just moments but testaments to the resilience and determination of these historical figures, inspiring us with their unwavering strength.
Recall the turbulent days of 1963, a year stained by the loss of John F. Kennedy, whose dreams of a new frontier were silenced by an assassin's bullet.
Honor Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., voices of a revolution that demanded justice and equality, their echoes are still heard in today's struggles.
Bobby Kennedy was a beacon of hope whose journey was tragically abbreviated, yet his call for peace and social justice continues to inspire. Like stars in the night sky, these figures illuminated the path to a more just and equal world.
These years, these figures shaped the world we live in. Their legacies remind us that change is born from courage, that progress demands sacrifice, and that the fight for equality and justice is not a chapter in history but an ongoing narrative that we all contribute to. It's a call to action, a reminder that the fight is not over, and we all have a role to play, emphasizing the urgency and importance of our contributions.
It's a collective effort, a shared responsibility that binds us together in this noble cause.
While watching my parents being mugged and killed
At age thirty-one my calling was revealed
Got bitten by a rare deadly bug
While surviving a nuclear blast so snug
In a exploding toxic waste dump
As a comic meteor from outer space bumps
Than slams down to earth in front of my face
As the Sun's solar flare burns me in place
While I constantly am being zapped gory
By strange energy from a mad scientist laboratory
Of an intention gone bad but meant to be good
This stuff can't even happen in Hollywood
Of course this little mishap is for the best
Because you now know the rest
Just give me the mask, cape, tights and ring
Now I'm doing the Super Hero Thing
Vision of a thousand eagles
Able to smell with the might of a hungry beagle
Hearing keen, good looks and clean
I can do this Super Hero Thing
Strenght, as strong as a mighty hurricane
Both weak and strong know my Super Name
Invisable if the need and super fast with super speed
Fighting crime, the evil and those with greedy greed
Save the world by saving the sexy pretty girls
There are fringe benefits saving the world
Than loving them in my known name
Super Heros know no shame
Can transform and can fly being good is my high
Using super gadgets and with super powers I thrive
Save the world daily and through the night
While keeping a secret identity is my biggest plight
As a playboy billionaire paperboy photographer
While moonlighting as a mild manner court stenographer
Sidekicks, Villans and the public at large
There need for my fame gives me a super charge
Be it Truth Justice and the American Way
Or just mindless vengeance in play
With Great Power comes Great Responsibilty
And a winning smile and dynamic personality
Still one day it must all come to an end
I must pass the cape to a younger super friend
In the comic world I will be glorified
With a TV series and Movies deal magnified
People will always remember my Super Name
I will always live through my Super Fame
But when I go I'll be just an average Joe
The world will never really know
The guy with the mask, cape, tights and ring
Who saved the world by saving the girl doing the Super Hero Thing
We Are Who We Are
We are the HFB
All my crazy and loving friends and me,
Everyday I try to relax and chill
And share my day and chat with Jill,
When I’m really down and feeling lowly
My best pick-me-upper is Debbie Ivey,
Mirian’s posts are awesome and she cares
I would love to meet her someday; hugs we will share,
This gal now works nights so we’re missing her at the party
The talented photographer, our caffeine-infused Marty,
Then there’s Katie who’s photos in the light and the dark
Are amazing, and she made me an Adam Lambert bookmark,
Summer Rae used to beg, “please, me, me, me”
Now she’s creating baby number three, Oakley,
Mikki’s had a very busy and winning year
She’s helped me out and I hope she knows I’m always here,
Making videos and winning cards are many
That’s our crazily creative Jenny,
Pet beds were made lovingly by our number one fan
Sandy’s talent is appreciated, especially by Kenn, her man,
Annette’s travels allowed her to meet Debbie L. in Disney
And at her son’s wedding were also Sandy and Jenny,
Bonnie’s wit and charm is reflected in those apples falling from her tree
Hilarious antics and wacky words of wisdom from Brendan and Bailey,
Patrick continues to inspire others and, of course, me
The lifesize model of the notorious PP,
Susan Weiner has become a winner
She’s a very gracious and talented beginner,
The Pattys, Donnas, and Debbies keep us entertained
And we try to keep Cougar Connie contained,
I was collecting books for a special cause
Honored to receive authored books from Connie, Marilyn, and Michelle Dokos
Uplifting posts from Lisa, Deana, Kristi, Rebecca, Jeanie, and Mar
Keep me going with how much they care
Also Leanora, I really do adore ya
And next time I’m on the Jersey sand, I hope to run into Dorann
Thanks to the Hallmark team
For fun competitions, flurries and blurries
Even for second guesses after hitting “submit” and the worries
We’ve all created a great community here
Where strangers have become friends we hold dear
I wrote this for my friends of the HFB on Facebook. I've made more friends since I wrote this in July for Fan Appreciation Month; this is for ALL of you...
Unless…
by Odin Roark
Seems just yesterday the sun arced
Over precarious ice
The street’s one elm
Leaned its naked branches with the wind Bringing winter’s announcement
A Coney Island cat crouched puzzled
Gradual crusting snow layering
The boardwalk a ribbon of white awaiting the gray
Mister Cat sprung back into dumpster heaven
Closed his eyes
And returned to his lone-bird dream
The one always disappearing
Over horizon’s edge
A few blocks away
Anxious hormones kept rebellious teens
Of mere rip-torn jeans and NFL jerseys
Rubbing their friction memories
Into goose-bumped skin
Frozen leaves scurried left and right
Separated from their bark insulated origin
The once virile tree sap
Now but a cryonic life flow
Awaiting spring’s resurrection
Somewhere
A corner-park’s snowman
Bowed forgiveness to the stinging wind
Its shivering cold prepared girth and pride
For tomorrow’s collapse
Beneath Time’s Square lights
Heavy metal leapt from SUV windows
Igniting crystal air
Into a vortex of tribal dance sensations
Vibrations warming all in its path
Yesterday’s season-change
Like a surprise party
Thrown on a whim
Roared through the city’s trenches
Beneath skyscraper walls of protection
As if birthing another Also Sprach Zarathustra
Daring frozen tears to fall
Central Park’s tree branches
Clustered and embraced each other
Like mouths searching for lips of warmth
While a lone photographer
Adorned in raccoon coat
Pointed her camera at breathing drifts
Becoming icing for fantasy’s deep freeze cake
At city’s center
Twisting cables of struggling semaphores
Blinked for mercy
As the insistent primal howl echoed
Across pot holed roadways
And iron slabs of street repair
Above underground steel tracks
Awaiting metro’s ignited contact
As dawn broke
Veined tunnels continued swallowing
The rushing energy astride quickened steps
Running feet
Shoving elbows and shoulders
City dweller anxiety
Cascaded down entrance stairwells
Boarded subway cars
Merged into the city’s synaptic darkness
And awaited their stop
Most likely yet another insulated destination
Where nature happening
Might once again go unnoticed
Never to be recalled
Unless…