Long Pole position Poems
Long Pole position Poems. Below are the most popular long Pole position by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pole position poems by poem length and keyword.
I have bought in boutiques
on Carnaby street,
stopped in stores galore
on the Champs-Élysées,
shopped 'til I dropped
on Madison Avenue,
and, what's more,
I've been seen to arrive,
fashionably late, on Rodeo Drive,
but one thing I hate,
and doubt I'll see, or there'll ever be,
as there's not much call,
for a linear row of shops downtown,
in a small Möbius strip mall.
Tho' Johann B. Listing (1808 – 1882),
rediscovered the non-orientable surface first,
Mr. August F.Möbius (1790 – 1868)
published his findings earlier and, well-versed,
Euclidean geometry taught he,
while, his wife, Dorothea, danced provocatively,
in pole position, at a nightclub naughty,
and, where out at night, on a fun day trip,
paying punters paid to ogle and view,
the ever-arousing Mrs. Möbius strip.
Bursts forth blissfulness, in tranquil stillness
Magnetic heat fills us from head to feet
Ineffable is our heart’s happiness
In resonance with the divine love beat
Our head melds with heart, conceding defeat
Silence continuum, ushers wellness
As Ohm vibration within does repeat
Bursts forth blissfulness, in tranquil stillness
Negating not, our mind-body this-ness
We rest egoic thought forms, that love deplete
Vibrant then becomes, in-form consciousness
Magnetic heat fills us from head to feet
We vaporise, as love does love throbs greet
Our aura transmutes to soft white brightness
As we imbibe soma elixir sweet
Ineffable is, our heart’s happiness
Wisdom downloads dispel our soul’s darkness
As of heart’s desire, we dance to love’s tweet
Is-ness of being-ness in joyfulness
In resonance with the divine love beat
Rapture’s unbound as polarities meet
Boundaries blur; we entwine with oneness
Heart takes pole position, at the love seat
God’s light in fullness, fills our emptiness
Bursts forth blissfulness
25-November-2021
I never thought of it as more than a side stream
a rivulet of minor proportion and influence
until the miracles and blessings appeared
always about me and more and right now
centre of the universe deserved pole position
up to the time disaster struck hard and fast
today I have resolved to take nothing for granted
am grateful for the privilege of being alive
for food water sheltered abode and love in abundance
an inner war has abated and peace has arrived
sobriety in body mind soul and great spirit
grant me the vital force of existential existence
what cannot be changed I am able to accept
that which can be I try to alter and amend
and I am beginning to know the difference
in the here and now of today
I am thankful to feeling gratitude
now life flows on its own appreciation
Ragazze o Pagliacci?
The lavish lips, exaggerated eyes
are painted on an hour before we meet you.
The art lies in our impact, when we greet you.
You see emotion, but it’s enterprise:
The punter gets the treatment while he buys,
but not for long. The trick is to repeat you:
to suck your proteins out, and then excrete you.
There’s nothing real about us – colour, size,
emotions. All prosthetics, patches, dyes.
Before we pull you down, we overheat you:
distraction is our tactic to defeat you.
You’d blame chameleons for their disguise?
Go rail at Nature. We’re designed to cheat you.
The static smile, laconic laugh, are lies.
A Functioning Drunk
Let no-one doubt that Canio’s in control!
A true-born leader, that’s how he’s perceived,
relaxed-but-ready, square-jawed, rolled-up-sleeved.
Protagonist his predetermined role,
in pole position (emphasis on pole!),
the sort who, should he feel himself aggrieved,
turns vicious. Preternaturally peeved,
not unacquainted with libation bowl
(or arma bianca, so the clown alleges),
as blunt as basalt, brittle as obsidian,
he might at last have passed his high meridian.
Look closely, and he’s frayed around the edges.
His pack, who’ve started driving in the wedges,
will turn to Baal-Berith on the death of Gideon.
Wanting the Shaft On
I think I’ll name your thingy “Solomon”:
the Queen of Sheba really liked his wood.
I love it when I get your column “on” –
it’s all to do with stimulus and blood.
I serve you in two offices, like Taft.
The other? No, he’s never understood.
Good skippers keep a watch-out, fore and aft:
I know he’d like to, not so sure he could!
I’m built for seamen. Such a nimble craft,
impressive hold for such a shallow draft,
and very steerable at either end
(one thing that he will never comprehend).
You want to move me? Make me feel the waft
of wanton winds, and see my sails extend!
The beans are still green
but the corn stalks have begun to brown
I watch the first leaves fall lazily from an elm tree to the ground
I’ll soon find frost on my windshield in the morning
when I leave for work at seven
the sky as dark as it was when I went to bed the night before
With each cycle of the seasons I witness
time develops a lead foot accelerating precipitously
speeding like a race car driver trying to win the pole position
towards the day of my demise
It seems I was only just joyfully noticing those very same leaves
unfurling verdant from their buds under cerulean blue skies
a warm spring breeze chasing away the chill
Festoons of flowers blooming like colorful candy
Bees buzzing busily about them
Birds returning from their southern sojourn chirping cheerfully
as the world around me awakened once again
The embers of summer cool in September
Soon all will sleep soundly under covers of snow and clouds of grey
I will weather another winter wrapped in blankets in my room
fingers of icy air seeping in around my window
attempting to stay warm as I write what few will ever read
and talk to the walls and the portraits of a prince that hang upon them
asking what they think of my latest poem or play
though I know they’ll never say
Tap into the art of the unknown magick , unknown by vocabulary unable to bridge a connection
Lost like trickles of water in the cracks of the next dimension
Gaping black hole sucking life
Through the straw of deletion, everything is consumed though time
With a little to grant fruition, everything is on repeat until the jolt of perfection hasn’t reaped
Its pole position such confusion has become a daunting pollution
Unable to reach any conclusion without understanding a foundation
This structure is without a clue it’s all wrong it’s all off
The geometry secret has gone beyond our capacity given once but lost
It’s all here the infinite reply the infinite answer invisible to all
If browsed by any if ever a any, captivating its mass transparency
In the splinter of a second one grain of it’s speed the equivalent in weight, of ten million elephant feeds
Holy imagination laid to rest upon that last moment we like to claim as best
And then back to ignorance and yet again sucking on the teat of another’s breast
These are truths of wandering masses running around after materials, memories
And prideful clashes and what a purpose built and all done before
It all means no-thing when everything was saw piled on the heap of extinction
Burnt, vanished, broken, diluted mended and then manifested ashes
The plethora of our understanding it’s all gone, Just magick.
hints of sorrow and completely tragic.