Long Pluck Poems
Long Pluck Poems. Below are the most popular long Pluck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pluck poems by poem length and keyword.
We seek out special flowers in the field,
That stand among the weeds in scarce array…
Quick pluck them from the thorns, a tiny yield,
Arrange them, stem by stem, for our display.
Then serving on a table, shelf, or sill,
Their fragrant beauty eases stress and strife,
While in the field, the crowded weeds will still
Meander on in wild pursuit of life.
The weeds grow dense and tangled in their clime,
Drink deep of soil and live for sun and rain,
While full, rich flowers, giving of their prime,
Will sooner wilt, their goodness spent for gain.
What's best to be—a carefree, rambling weed,
Or chosen flower, plucked to serve a need?
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
such a wondrous thing,
in the winter or in the spring.
So doggone sweet,
and a yummy treat.
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
pluck the sweetest from the tree.
One, two, three--laughing with glee!
A flaky crust and sweet center,
eaten with ice cream--who cares if it’s winter?
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
sugar and cinnamon, sticky sweet.
Pop it in the oven--almost complete!
I cannot wait to have a slice, maybe two...
because one would scarcely do.
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
I cannot believe I did not share.
It was tasty on my tongue--
and now there is no more there,
not even a crumb!
Alesia Leach © 10/2014
Silent waters always are said to run deep;
And looks often end up in deception
As venturesome finds do in exception
Bring forth reward to cherish and keep
A trekking crew found on an desolate hill
An odd tree with feathery leaves wide spread,
And plump, tempting fruits coloured red ;
For a while the dazed gapers all stood still ....
The younger ones rushed forth to pluck ,
Before the slower few could warn or prevent ,
And lavishly bit off with wild thrilling content ;
Wildness now overpowered the lagging ruck
Moments of ecstasy did there prevail ;
Like the Greek heroes on the Lotos island,
Each was lost in the indrawn wonderland
And every spell was slothful and under sail
Oblivion covered up the place and time
Thoughts and senses to iceberg had frozen ;
Trusted arms and fingers refused to fasten ;
Order, rhythm, and breath lost their prime
Chance and daring had brought them there
Temptation did prompt the eating of it ,
Smothering and closing all ways to quit ;
Everything lost and nothing found anywhere !
Living has its own marked margin and domain
No courage dare cross Nature's set ambit :
Taste or possession of things odd is out of wit --
Perhaps trying the forbidden fruit over again !
I tripped upon a dream rock inside motor head
stepped upon the perfect stare while i ran
fall out to take the blame and ate the fruit
against the night -- to be fructose inside my veins
i don't like how you see me any more
i don't like how you say you love me
i love no less and what is more i love less
then if love is a reason to become winter
we will walk a winter's night in day
and hail flowers that grow where our sighs are dry
oh well oh well oh oh
did our love then, in spring be green and healthy?
It's fairly simple as you know.
i trust it as our autumn will be dark and desperate,
but if our summer is warm we do love in spring,
and our autumn loves in summer
like a bullet for all bullets metaphorically
god directs our well-fed flowers of autumn
i'm falling
ah oh right
falling
it comes to a final spring
my love and yours
i've been think and writing too much
seeing seeds that are ripe and the ripening fruit
now are mine to pluck and your sweetness
is perfect scented nature trembling in joy that has
soon lost the raw innocence of spring.
We race by light leaving trails of sweet-scented jasmine that
smiles for all romantic lovers.
:: 07.07.2022 ::
Before Rick Perry left the race,
They interviewed some fans.
One woman said a vote for him
Was surely in her plans.
The journalist asked why and so
She went on to explain.
She thought Rick Perry’s love of God
Embellished his campaign.
That answer didn’t shock me;
Pious folks want him elected.
Her second reason, though, was not
At all what I expected.
She said, “I like Rick Perry’s wife
Because she’s so submissive.”
Those words were so amazing
My reaction was dismissive.
But then I thought about it and
I reached this sad conclusion:
Equality for women’s still
An out-of-reach illusion.
For there are women, young and old,
Who feel it is their place
To be subservient to men,
Which I find a disgrace.
We’ve come so far and fought so hard
Yet there are those still stuck
With values long-rejected by
Most females filled with pluck.
I’m glad Rick Perry’s given up
And stepped out of the fight.
Unfortunately, he’s got clones
Just waiting on the right.
Here as I sit
With funny wit
Jest works a spell
That now does tell
In glimpse of light
I feel zest sight
A touch of ease
In new-found lease
If only I
Can live that sigh
In vivid trace
That floods this space
Now that I know
A profound flow
Note thoughts that come
To spark brisk sums
If you must ask
Beyond mere bask
Then know that time
Echoes crisp rhymes
So pluck the best
From pun and fest
To find the way
To buzz that plays
Look to crisp fun
To help you run
In tempo brisk
As love greets risk
And hereI go
To meet the flow
That sparks may light
The tale most bright
Leon Enriquez
22 June 2019
Singapore
Fog over the inlet
until water and air waltz together.
colds ears muffled by the dank air.
Grebes and Coots colonize this tributary.
The ocean is close
you can feel the tidal pull of it
the immensity of it,
even through the thick haze
it seems to tug at my small boat.
I hear now, the distant screaking
of coastal gulls.
Trawling fingers in the dark water
mellifluent coils pluck and pull.
Later, sitting in the cabin
I wonder why I did not push
further out from the estuary
advancing towards
the deep sound of the breakers.
I yawn, sup some hot tea from a mug,
smile,
comfortable,
that's the reason -
way too comfortable.
"The Nightingale Burning"
I pluck the Silver chords
of your mind, sharp
talons of Phoenix
becomes a Nightingale
too slow to kiss
wet lips are burning
melting moist
from the fire that calls
Magic molds you
closer to my body
I press my ears
to hear the pulling
of your heart strings
These are the things
that passion stirs
firmly planted
between Her seated
third person
swollen satin thighs
Music marks
the spot where
sighs steal
slender fingers
to leave their touch
walking towards you
out from the
tight chords release
felt unleashed
from sensual touch
of fingertips, dreams
unseen as braille
another language
spent unraveling
secrets as a burning
Nightingale to
mute Harlequin
from the
Dark
Immensities
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Valérie Milot, harpe/harp - Smetana - Má Vlast : Vltava (Moldau)
https://youtu.be/jCy22w4r8yk
"Sweet Thang" / Shuggie Otis
https://youtu.be/oR1nf9NUlpY
;)
Cave men were brilliant once upon a time
Women not so much as history tells us
Not good for hunting in the past
Here's why
The hunting of berries is a specialized science
Not just a simple sport
Females are too gentle to the touch
They use an index finger and thumb together
Pluck one berry at a time while at their task
With a measure of indifference
They refuse to use an ax
Cave men hunt the berries down in packs
Follow every leaf and vein they find
Are serious about the bush attacks
Masculine members of the tribe and supervisors
Make sure the fruit stays in their place
Don't lose their flavor
Or escape into the night before the catch
Men use large rocks and clubs behind their backs
Make the berries scream for mercy
Sneak up slowly to squish them dead
Spear them when they least expect it
Before they bring them back
Men and women were hunters gatherers way back when
Fruits and berries ruled the world
Umm Gawa! Berries very good
Poisoned ones
Not very friendly
Maybe cave men and women misunderstood
So alike to a budding rose, casting out the scent of its unique pollen.
So alike to an unfurling cocoon, before emerges the butterfly.
Sweetest voice that resonates deep, like the showers of a waterfall echoing on the deep blue pond.
The easy way you carrieth yourself through, with a firm sway like a leaf stem grounded where you belong.
Your long delicate fingers with which you pluck and touch, either nipple or guitar, preferably with an audience.
thinketh ye it lies in that tremulous smile she flashes,
what charms she uses that so many men even fair youth stalk her and fall on her feet with long sighs reciting proposals,
like lovelorn teenage girls adoring the prowess & perfection of the statue of David
Prettiest comments that rushes like a stream, like a waterfall flowing out of my bosom with greasy ease.
was it not i yesterday, whose foul tongue dripped with venom and hate, but now my heart, my mind and my soul, see only the light that is you and i can do no other but impress my veneration profoundly................
by Sean Claudine