Long Powders Poems
Long Powders Poems. Below are the most popular long Powders by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Powders poems by poem length and keyword.
All around us
It’s an epidemic
Man-induced plague
It’s a conspiracy
To hook people
To non food foods
Eats that should be
Technically inedible
Anything to grease the wheel
Of factories and consumerism
Nothing grown naturally
Nothing from a farm
Heavens no
Promoting foods whipped up
From powders and chemicals
None of those
Vegetables or fruits
Or other live stuff
Let the population thrive
On plastic derivatives
Deceitfully charming
Taste buds everywhere
Inducing dependency
Decomposing corpses wandering
Like loose time bombs
Waiting to explode
AP: Honorable Mention 2023
She cleans the floor outside entrance door,
takes some rice powder in hand
deftly moving her hands
creates patterns on ground.
Circles,squares many geometrical designs
without any instruments...
Sometimes even a scenery!
Intricate designs easily created,
her skills are praiseworthy.
At times she puts dots on the ground
joins them with hands for perfection
On festivals she fills her designs with powders of different colours
Or with flowers
that takes lot of time
but she has tons of patience...
It is a pleasure to watch her work!
Check out this link to watch her at work:-
https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/india-woman-making-rangoli-festival.html
Note : Rangoli also called kolam in South India is a tradition where women draw beautiful designs on the entrance of house every morning to welcome God inside. Big elaborate Rangoli can be seen on occasions like weddings, festivals and temples. Divine love for God pours forth as a woman draws them.
It would not be such a stretch
To think that every kid
Drew pictures on an Etch-A-Sketch,
Like all my peers once did.
It was a toy that everyone
Possessed in his collection,
For it provided hours of fun
With no need for perfection.
‘Cause if you goofed, with just one shake
The screen went back to blank,
With not a trace of your mistake;
So someone we must thank:
His name was Andre; he was French,
A factory technician.
While using powders and a wrench,
He had an intuition.
He noticed particles that stuck,
By means of static charge,
To decals – what a stroke of luck!
His future was writ large.
It took some years to make the toy
And show it at a fair.
It was a hit and oh, what joy
For children everywhere.
Now Andre Cassagnes is dead
But we owe him our praise,
For Etch-A-Sketch remains a thread
Attached to childhood days.
Dream on, don't stop
for your reality is in shatters.
Your life has lost its essence,
There’s no logical fluidity in your actions,
so just dream on, don't stop,
your misery will soon end:
aren't your dreams so luminescence?
And just to help you on, my friend
I have just what you might need,
you only have to choose, my dear,
for now, it's only a free deed.
See your tears are drying up,
your body's tremors stop.
Would you like some strong valerian?
Sniff my white intoxicating powders,
sleep like a crafty grown-up,
and dream like an uncouth Iberian?
I have all your answers, pal.
Soon you'll depend on me.
(Oh how I hate your youth!)
I'll give you dreams galore, scum,
Provided on payment we agree.
They told me back when I was young
to conserve water for the Earth,
wash your clothes less, take short showers,
or else the whole planet would hurt.
They said not to use that hairspray,
that would cause an ozone hole,
and solar winds would sweep on in,
consuming all of the south pole.
They said we’d starve in the eighties,
called it the population bomb,
we could do nothing to stop it,
our resources would soon be gone.
They said the planet was too hot,
we had to not use energy,
or everything would go extinct,
and there’d be no icebergs at sea.
They said our animals pollute,
out ancient foods no longer good,
eat vegetables, protein powders,
and other stuff that tastes like wood.
They said our vehicles must go,
they burn the oil, don’t you see?
There’s no need for so much travel,
stay where you are and be happy!
But I live up in the northeast,
and there is water everywhere,
bad sanitation makes you sick,
for live and flees I do not care.
And I never once used hairspray,
but those big holes in the ozone
grow and shrink despite all we do,
working by strange rules all their own.
All the talk of great food shortage
couldn’t withstand Norman Borlaug,
forty years on they still pitch this,
will not admit they got it wrong.
The ice caps remain where they are,
yet they still shout, ‘Less energy!’
As if us folks here in cold lands
will quietly sit back and freeze.
And time has shown that eating flesh
is required for true brain health,
the vegans shrivel and age young,
do they want that for us as well?
And if the oil they despise
no longer could be used in cars,
food could not move to where we live,
millions of people would just starve...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
The morning paper is everywhere, the breakfast dishes, are here and there
Her feet up in the easy chair, the old man in his underwear
The phone starts ringing loud and clear, so hubby quickly disappears
When he returns, she sees a frown,…, He calmly says, “Guess who’s in town?”
“The corporate boss, not far away….I've asked them here to spend the day!”
“A little lunch would be no trouble. He’s with his wife…her name is Mable”
“You did what???? she screams. (The neighbors hear!)
"Company?? ... You say they're near?”
“Help me quick. Get off your rear!!”
"Oh dear,.... oh dear, ......oh dear) !!
"Get off your rear, you lazy man! And if you don't .....I SWEAR!"
She frets and stews and carries on….her hubby simply mutters
She runs around the messy room and stashes all the clutter
She’s acting like a headless chicken, her partner in a quandary
He watches as she runs around, hiding dirty laundry
Oh dear, they’ll need some lunch to nibble, whatever could she fix?
She finds some fruit, some crackers, cheese, a bag of party mix
Running to the bedroom, she’s gasping raves and rants
“You’ve got to get your shirt on!…For Pete’s sake, dear! Find your pants!”
“Heaven’s, we must hurry! We’ve got to make the bed!”
"Whatever you say, dear" he grumbles, and shakes his bewildered head
She discards her frumpy nightgown, powders her frantic frown
She quickly brushes hair, a dab of lipstick too
Tosses sloppy slippers, dons her pretty shoes
A knocking on the door, she pastes a cheery smile
Her unexpected company has come to stay awhile!
Breathing deep, she goes to greet them “So good of you to call!”
“What’s that.....a bother?” “ Now don’t be silly, you aren’t bothering us at all!”
She shoots a glance, a daggered lance, into her husband’s mug
He has no clue, ignores what brews…a deep, dark hole he's dug
For, once again, he’s lost his head…and says
….”Stay the night, it's quite all right, we have an extra bed!!”
She fakes a smile, and says "OF course!!".........
(but tomorrow he’ll be DEAD!!!)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First Freeze
Aspen leaves quaking shivering
Beneath coats of freak September snow…
Gold sequins sparkle through a cloak of ice
New sunlight captures glitter
Captivates - no fool’s gold
Out of season – unexpected appearance –
Jack Frost’s second cousin
Sneaks up on the foothills
With frigid rime kisses
Powders the noses of mountaintops
That gasp in surprise
At winter’s scenic postcard
In hoarfrost and uncured icicles
Delivered
Too soon for the borealis solstice;
Chortling jester
Playing practical jokes
On Autumn
With early winter mischief;
Prankster unleashed
In antics of snowflakes
And escapades of flurries
Before harvest boogies and twirls
In orchard jubilees - pumpkin field festivals -
First freeze winks –
Leaves change from green to gold.
snowstorm sneaks away
skies sweep away snow debris ~
eighty degrees now
9-18-20
Four In One Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Adroit Android
Somewhere between the outer limits and twilight zone
Operating within acceptable parameters of functionality
Sam Android, according to his name plate
Etched along his metallic neck and back
Came from outer space with an agenda
He did not come to serve mankind
He did not come in peace, either
This android had something other on his mind
Programmed by another species
In their image and intelligence
Sam Android gathered information of a certain kind
Reconnaissance of metals is what he is exploring
Shopping for refined alloys and powders
Our scientists wanted to dissect him like a bug
To see what makes it tick with little love and lots of tricks
Androids do not like to be touched by strangers
Clearly printed in the manual he came with
Our technicians studied it and everything found on his space ship
Before they flipped its switch and turned him on
Once activated, there was no off switch, no turning back
Sam had two bright cobalt eyes that came alive
Absorbed everything in sight
In that cold and calculating way of extraterrestrials
It moved quickly with precision and intellectualism
In a nice calm voice it told the soldiers and scientists to move back
When they did not, and by the way, it only said it once
Then opened fire with a laser gun
Penetrated all the walls of the facility of knowledge and higher study
We learned a potent lesson about adroit androids from outer space
They are clever, savvy, do not like to be touched
Or say things twice
We must listen to our cosmic friend
Who could not have been more succinct and clear
Before it blew our buildings and men away
He came here for the metals and other alloys
Communicating with eloquence and in good form
Androids are adroit, programmed that way
Written: September 9, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Rob Carmack
Quote: "Lovers have heartaches that can't be cured by drugs or sleep, or games, but only by seeing their beloved" By Rumi
**********
In the garland of ailments, we sip nepenthe,
anodyne tinctures in elegant flasks—
murmurous promises, beauteous masks,
each fard a façade, each pill a palimpsest
of pain rewritten in mellifluous ink.
Pneumology sings in stertorous sighs,
dyspnea dances under the aegis of relief.
We stroll through the lanes of this lush haven.
The breathtaking tablets gaze into bliss.
What trendy medicine pills and supplies
Supply human beings with many ways to support?
I share on the matter of preventing slurs.
The breakdown of moiety and the rise of risk.
For even the most ductile clay
may crumble in the quagmire of misuse.
In the seraglio of spurious bliss,
the simple and the iconoclast alike
grasp the absurdity of escape.
Acherontic powders, hexed and hissing,
wafture through the penumbra of parties,
where flapdoodle masquerades as rapture.
fear grips the veins—
a jussive urge, impetuous and egregious.
We extemporize joy, inhale incarnadine dusk,
and resile from reason with pertinacity.
turbulent dawns, wan and woebegone,
usher in ischemia’s kiss,
a paucity of comeliness,
a summary of sorrow.
The lush becomes lurid,
the sumptuous turns stygian.
Even the most miraculous odyssey
may cease in necrotic silence.
Meliorism in time to come
Yet still, amid the desiccation,
a scintilla of optimism coruscates.
The riparian soul, lithe and lit with Love,
may manipulate a raw moiety of meaning.
Through the shield of empathy,
the one who heals
may reclaim the palimpsest of self.
Not all who inhale are lost—
Some merely seek the empyrean
through alternate doors.
Let us not belittle
the addict, the patient, the seeker.
Each belongs to a consanguineous ilk
of yearning, of zoetic ache.
So let us offer not just palliation,
but propinquity,
not just summary judgment,
but the sacred burnished balm
of understanding.
Let Love be the panacea,
let compassion be the coruscation
that flickers in the penumbra
of every pharmacological night.
Witches, warlocks, ghouls and ghosts.
Vampires, veins, Halloween hosts.
Black cats, broomsticks, magic and more
Trick-or-treating with the witch next door.
Potions, powders, apple bobbing too
Your mask is awesome. Who are you?
Mystic, seer, prophetess, gypsy, guru,
Shaman, pirate, Dracula, Cookie Monster Blue.
October beggars follow the herd.
Is that Grover and happy Big Bird?
Great night for aliens to land in town.
They will fit right in, for miles around.
Just grab a bag as they approach me.
I hand them out, one, two. and three.
They are amazed, fitting in right away.
They learn Trick-or-Treat pretty fast to say.
Three years ago sad night because my best friend drowned.
I feel badly on Halloween because he is not around.
Milky Ways, Babe Ruths, Hershey bars too.
Watch out! My cousin Pete just threw up on my shoe.
The moon is full, yellow, bright, winking at us.
The aliens give it no attention, not a bit of fuss.
The sky has turned into a brilliant orange hue.
I love October thirty—first, how about you?