Long Poles Poems
Long Poles Poems. Below are the most popular long Poles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poles poems by poem length and keyword.
Said the sacred green EcoFeminist
to the hard
and carnal red EgoPatriarch:
If one's only ego-weapon
is a hard erectile key
then every perennial trauma
will seem to be a locked
and toxic
traumatized
closed up tight
back and forth shut down
with all his might
anti-bright
Black Hole.
So it is
in monocultures,
where spirited nature
abhors a well-rooted YangWoke vacuum
As if pregnant enculturing wombs
were a personally disempowering
contradiction
of indigenously natured
panentheistic
naturally sacred inside
open hole systemic outside
root chakra Yintegrity
For resiliently optimizing
multiculturing cooperative
integrally copulating
co-impassioned
opening poles for otherwise
empty closed-out binomial hole
Metric bicameral systems
positive 1 through not negative 0
systemic yang/yin mediation
for wu-wei natural-ego inside
eco-spirited outside environments
AnthroSupremely
monotheistic privileged worship
through worn out right-hand jobs
nurturing compulsive 1's only tool
to relieve a LeftBrain dominant
verbal keynote loud overspeaker
So every not perennial
impulsive non-0 zone
win/lose deflowering problem
looks rationally Either/Or
and sounds Mine/Or-Thine
and yet smells potentially fertile
Refilling a locked-up integrity
integral womb
of polytheistic potential
compassionately awaiting princely One poles
fulfilling Holy win/win systemic Peace
with wellness Zero wholes
compassionately co-investing
zen souls.
Between the north and south of want,
the magnet hovers,
neither pulling nor pushing,
just the suspended breath of particles
deciding which way to leap.
In that caesura,
that white space between charges,
the universe holds its tongue;
not silence but the pause
before music remembers it must become sound again.
Consider the hummingbird at apex,
wings still beating but the body motionless,
gravity and lift in perfect,
temporary truce,
the way opposite poles hold their distance
before flipping: positive to negative,
attraction to repulsion,
the intimate dance of forces that cannot coexist yet cannot part.
What lives in that in-between?
Not emptiness but potential,
the loaded pause, the held note,
the moment when everything that will be hovers like breath before the yes.
Finn and Mcgee
went fishing once more
With the money they saved up all year
They rented a cabin
up by the lake
And filled it with fish bate and beer
For two weeks of fishing
They made it their mission
To wake up and start at first light
With poles in their hands
They hardly could wait
For a big fish to come up and bit
Day after day
They fished and they fished
but barely got even a nibble
Then on the last day
McGee caught a trout
That apparently wasn't so fickle
Now on the way Home
Finn said " McGee
You Know what this fish, has cost you----
---A thousand Quid"
"Well Finn, if it did
Then I glad I didn't catch two"
Falling leaves, frosty dawns, crisp winds, muggy nights
Walking through a park on a perfect day
Skating on ice, surfing a wave, going for a drive
Witnessing sun rise, lightning in flight, ocean under moonlight
Pyramid hot desert sand, sweat infused forests, icy glaciers
Illuminated cites, skyscrapers 100 floor plus
Religious cathedral's, emperors palaces remote country villages
Amsterdam's flat tulip colored fields, Everest's grey mountain peak
Victoria falls, north and south poles either side of equator
That perfect shot winning goal, art brought to life on canvass
Knowledge the great minds of out time
Musicians song, comedians jesters
Wild animals roaming the plain, eagles in flight, shark infested waters
Companionship, dog mans best friend
Glittering gold, sparkling diamonds, cold dull steel, grain on wood
This world we inhabit is an amazing place
On which we be
Open your eyes and you will see
When I see your fantasy,
My heart is filled with ecstasy;
Roses my eyes do see.
When I set them to lie,
Over night's terrors they can't survive
But in your beauteous light do rely.
Goodnight to our sleepless souls,
Which linger not in holes;
But with endless oaths, stronger than poles:
Wherewith loving dreams can't help,
Espying the daily memories kep'.
We'd play in the downs
When the morning wears sweet-love gowns.
Indelible in the dark.
Love is stressed happiness:
That though it aches,.
Strengthens confidence of plain hearts.
Lo, Love be sickness:
To heal or let die away
Like a night turned out unto a day.
Think of a place on Earth’s long frozen pole
Where polar seas don a crisp snow-white dress,
What if a warm sea roars— man’s karmic dole
In place where there was frosty wilderness!
If icy soils of poles get sunny kiss
And turn to green meadows that never freeze,
Douldless, world’s dreaming rich hail it as bliss
To get some golfing grounds on a long lease.
Ah god-gifted weekend spot to escape
From a sizzling summer's hot season!
A place that wears a spring-like lush green cap—
An all’s-well cap to be smug sans reason!
Call it ho-hum from a harsh truth to part,
Or mankind's alibi for inaction,
Cold calculus of a callous harsh heart,
To which warming’s a blessing from heaven.
An assurance against threat of ice age—
Deemed greater misfortune at mankind’s door,
What avail if sneaking comes a sea shore,
Man’s logic knows how every ill to hedge.
No need, he thinks, his wasteful ways should end,
Cut careless consumption, nor gird his greed,
Pile up produce and proceed, his sole creed,
Today makes life, let morrows on own mend.
I’ll dump the Earth, he says, for Mars or Moon,
If not, no alt is out of my great reach,
He may or not be able, Earth to ditch,
A hell-bound ostrich he seems, dunk in dune.
________________________________________
Satire | 03.07.2008, revised July 2023|
Poet’s note: To some in this world it still is as if Global Warming is no more than a paper tiger, not a real threat. If Polar frost melts up and one day a warm sea appears in its place, some escapists might even welcome it as one more vacation spot!
The kindly old lamplighter ambled about the village green,
Lighting lamps to add a glow to that Norman Rockwell scene!
Sitting on a bench in the shadows to reminisce for awhile,
He recalled many by-gone scenes that evoked a wistful smile!
At Yuletide, carolers stood 'neath the lamps singing joyful songs,
To herald the birth of The Savior to the happy, strolling throngs.
Huge, feathery snowflakes drifted gently to the earth.
The lamps' mellow glow brightening faces adding to the mirth!
Young lovers stood 'neath secluded lamps in passionate embrace.
Recalling his youthful days, a knowing smile creased his weathered face.
Silver-crowned sweethearts paused 'neath lamps to reminisce.
She'd give him a playful slap should he try to steal a kiss!
Watching kids playing marbles 'neath a lamp was a delight.
How he longed to join them, but they'd think him an awful fright!
Lamp poles were a refuge to which clung the town ne'er-do-well.
On Saturday nights the constable escorted him to his usual cell!
For nigh on fifty years he'd tended the lamps on the village square.
He'd seen just about everything 'neath the lamps' revealing glare.
Now, his soul refreshed with memories, he slowly trudged away,
To return on the 'morrow to dim the lamps at dawn of a new-born day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Reality is coming.
Don't you hear its wings, a-thrumming?
When prosperity smiled
on the people of the Nile
and there was bread and onions
no Calvins, Luthers, Bunyans
could disrupt the daily toil
to sell them snake oil,
but the workers in crisis
are sure to turn to Isis.
totem poles, Superbowls, Beyonce Knowles
cellphones ring tones Alex Jones
will-they-fire-us, Covid virus, Miley Cyrus
How long can you keep
them walking in their sleep?
In the watches of the night,
don't you sometimes take fright
when you think how it will end,
the day they comprehend?
Rand Paul, Fawn Hall, Rollerball
go-fasters, phony pastors, US Masters
shock jocks, Redsox, Amanda Knox
During the investors' meeting,
don't you hear those wings, a-beating?
expectations blurred the page
of motherhood. I thought it through,
each point of view. My plans were laid
a shade of pink, a hue so new
would come upon the heels of two
who sketched my world with shades of blue
I'd framed her world for my display
a trophy of my fantasy
chiseled clear, I saw it all,
beyond the stage of snakes and snails
growing boys, trucks and toys
tossed across my pregnant form
doing mindless daily chores, I crafted dreams
rehearsed the themes, disarming tales of nursery rhymes
I'd plan her life to suit my theme
but, who was I to redesign
a perfect child, I thought I owned?
sowing selfish schemes, she'd be
cloned to be a form of me - I'd live my dream
through her, all mine, to hone, redo
a mother's fragile paper doll
I did lose sight of destiny
compared, alike, - we shared a trace
resemblance of hair and face
presumptions swept between the lines
she was not meant to be defined
this child of God withheld her dreams
of ways to make the stars align
this aquamarine was never mine
what stirred her heart - vast worlds apart
she felt the sun within her soul
and thus, I've learned
I must let go
she must be free, not who I own
I've closed a chapter to that book
one looks in awe, as she became
a person who can touch the soul
beyond my dreams, she brings to all
a million lights, they've never seen before
emerging stars are bright with gold
hers comes alive. old dreams are cold
no two alike, as it should be
each one a star with different poles
I've owned the fear of letting go
____________________________________________________
4/20/16
Contest: OWN IT!
Sponsor: Cyndi McMillan
Together we would whittle sticks while chewing juicy gum
We would find a place to rest beside a river green and wide
The skies were blue, tall grass that grew, would brush against my knees
and willow trees, would shade the trails and nesting squirrels would hide
With a tackle box on summer days, we'd sit in lazy pose
With our fishing poles, and cheerful hearts, in ivy covered coves
It mattered not, no lad was I, ...a girl is what he got
And he seemed quite glad, to take my hand, and help me hook the bait
I'd toss it in, against the wind,......then sit awhile to wait
It mattered not, if fish were caught, the waiting was our friend
The sun felt warm, his voice could charm, and worries would be gone
Curiosity of my tender youth, this world a puzzle, vast
I would ponder things, and pick his brain, with many questions asked
This kind old man with gentle care, and a quiet ear to lend
Would tweak his mustache, and kindly hear, without a word to bend
While deep in thought, would listen well, and continue with his task
As if my words were meant to hold, and mattered more than gold
He'd try to find the perfect word, with wisdom from the past
With satisfaction we would whittle sticks, yet carving so much more
When shadows fell, he'd take my hand, the young one in the old
And head back home, as sun goes down, from lazy river's shore
Those fishing holes, are idle now, too soon the autumn fell
Although I tread the shore alone, I clearly see them all