Long Pushed Poems
Long Pushed Poems. Below are the most popular long Pushed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pushed poems by poem length and keyword.
A Little Boy’s gun with a barometric trigger,
showed a Fat Man how to
blot out an Empire’s rising sun.
Proliferation’s need pushed
Sellafield and Kyshtym to trip chasing Manhattan.
Twenty two years later and just
three miles south of Middleton,
failed safe assurances lied again and signed
Pripyat’s some thousands years lease that left
eighteen billion rubles around one elephant’s foot.
Fukushima’s seven year menses – Pacific stained –
west coast tide pool colors an invasive green
as Chinook escapements fill five year graves.
Intractable cesium hangovers bleed MOX cocktails
Nostrils blowing bubbles over damned lips
fused to the tit of a beast we can’t tame.
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Contest: Remembering What You Want to Forget
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Date: 09.04.18
*Image of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde poster by Wiki.
That's Close Enough
Shapeshifters, and or, shapeshifting ... preps our world always,
A speck sans a cavass, ... materializes a work of art,
At spans of reckoning, ... outlandish evolve viably.
Simplistically, ... caterpillar, cocoon, butterfly,
The explanative being ... the effects of metamorphoses,
Influence of changing, on the surface ... ain't exclusive.
The aspects of human versions, ... do we possess ourselves?
Phases absorb one's absolutes, ... escapism amuses abstracts,
Misshape is needless, ... our character assassinates us.
The docile Doctor Jekyll ... and ominous Mr. Hyde,
The tale tells induced chemicals ... freed the latter temperament,
Stevenson, a mixed decrypt breed, ... Woolf faults, Hemingway hails.
The Picture of Dorian Gray, ... Wilde's graphic inward peer,
Retorts pundits, ... proxy masques wickedness, textured facades ethics,
Books ain't moral or immoral, ... they're just well penned or naught.
A star radiates ... cast hither, trimming and grooming 'rounds,
Revolving amazeballs recasting orb's landscapes, ... picturesque,
Bubblegum pops as its meaning ... is clearly intricate.
Brief spells also have an effect, ... ravenous bears slumber,
When pushed or at risk ... stimulates safeguards that ensure their species,
The game plays out who's game ... prey or predator lives or dies.
Transformations constants about ... subtle yet definite,
Persona exploits cellular structure ... registers vividly,
The former's substituted ... the latter assimilate.
2022 June 01
*11th Place*
Shapeshifters and Shapeshifting
~~Anthony Biaanco: 2022 July 04
*HMS: 14,16,14 syllables x 8 stanzas
I didn't pen the words,
I didn't script the lines,
To extol her virtues,
To praise her perseverance.
They lay in my chamber,
Fallowed in my hind part,
I was naive with words,
Stagnant with its fluidity.
She stood tall like a bamboo,
Unruffled by life's vicissitudes,
Unperturbed by its tempest,
Unscathed by its inferno.
She pushed back the tide,
Meandered the clouded pathway,
She wrestled the assailants,
Freed from midnight's grasp.
Time after time she prevailed,
Until she took a bow,
It was time for her to leave the stage,
Pull together the curtains.
October 7, 2022.
The dreaded hurricane mowed down the trees
and splintered homes within its chosen path.
Though untold damages had wrecked the land-
at least, it seemed the hurricane had passed.
But further down- where the sea hugs its shore,
lined with horizon's edge- came rolling in
that wave of water- racing, moving fast;
a grave encore to heighten fear that day.
The huge Tsunami pushed on past the shore
enveloping whatever lay ahead;
progressing far and deep- to wash away-
disintegrate all trapped within its rush.
The force swept boats and bodies, with debris-
spared by the recent hurricane's wild reach,
to be usurped by the Tsunami's plan-
to drown and kill for miles beyond the storm.
After the hurricane- disaster grew.
The anger from the sky brought wind and rain,
but ocean waves kidnapped that mighty wind-
let the Tsunami win dark nature's game.
When times were rough
And hope was gone
You showed me stuff
-to carry on
When things were lean
When things got thin
And cold outside
You let me in
For want of warmth
And others turned
You made a fire
But I never got burnt
When I was stoned at the station
I waited for a train
You came to fetch me
And freed me from pain
You helped me up
When I was stuck on the ground
That look you gave
... I knew that sound
You gave me money
When I was broke
You made me laugh
With stupid jokes
You gave me wisdom
When I was dumb
When things were strict
We had some fun
When I was cripple
You pushed my chair
You solved my trouble
You were always there
Alone in the trenches
You got my back
You fought like a demon
When they attacked
My promise is this:
Ill try to go on
Ill try to let go
You go on now
Just follow the light
Ill follow you soon
You go on ahead now
Go make me some room
In the tree walk
We were walking in the trees
Leaving all the crap below
we entered another world
of insects, birds, squirrels, bats and bees
communicating trees
in unconditioned coolness
in the above living
where everything is breathing
unaware, indifferent, trusting, being
This was no world of false words
Or vain lies and posturing
This was no television soap opera
Of feigned emotions or histrionics
Here like a plunge into a tropical sea
Our face was pushed against the edge
Of a silent world in motion
A world without words
In a structure organized like a jewel
Or a sunny smiling symphony
Here we were
As if floating under the sea
Off coral reefs
With snorkel or tank
Where there we left all the crap above
Now here in the trees
We left all the crap below
It’s either crap above or crap below
It’s still crap though
So burn it up in a uranium fire
Let these two worlds meet in us in love
In the air where paradise is waiting below and above
Charlie Norton has expanded
Ever since his work was seen
And favourably commended
By an Equerry to the Queen
He’s added Panto Dames instruction
With an optional modular course
For white faced clown technique
And lead end Panto Horse
This coupled with existing stuff
Has pushed his venture to the fore
And Charlie’s mind is working
On this and so much more
He’s been invited to the Palace
Where he had a spot of lunch
With Charlie Windsor and Camilla
And others of the royal bunch
The Prince’s trust approves
Of Charlie and his scheme
And opened him an off shoot
In deepest trendy Cheam
And it is rumoured seriously
That the Queen’s old man
Wants to learn to tap dance
In pumps and Coat of Astrakhan
Life is so exciting at Charlie’s
School of Armoured Acting Parts
And Charlie is considered
To be a man of many arts
It says By Appointment
Over the front door
Can any theatre school
Realty want for more
But not resting on his laurels
Charlie has a further plan
In providing correct training for
Portrayal of The Invisible Man
The Charlie Norton School;
Of Modern Theatrical Art
Can give your career
A high powered start
Although I came this far along with the flow of Chronos
I am only an event of birth and death within Kairos;
in this confusing world, if the essence of life’s value is
quantitative-material or qualitative-spiritual, a day stands yonder
It’s obvious though,
if it’s Chronos, I am dragged onward on the way named future;
if Kairos, I am pushed to move forward to the unknown incident;
but the way I am on, is the same dusty road, I was walking on yesterday
it doesn’t matter what you call the distance from the source of the light of sun, moon or stars, metric measurement, astronomical unit, or light year; it’s an unchangeable fundamental principle from the beginning of the world for Chronos
is the gold and Kairos is the destiny.
Why do men ignore Kairos factor
always dragged by Chronos, covered in dust
carrying that overly heavy gold? Though the root of
the twisted strands of humankinds’ affairs; are rolling
along hanging onto those two simple facts,
whether you are pushed or dragged, if life is a one-way road
you have no choice but to go forward, why don’t you cut the toe of
the overlord and vassalage relationship of Kairos, Chronos and you;
dash at full speed to get ahead of Chronos and soar high in the air
to look down at Kairos from above.
Past
Time drifted around me, slipping through my fingers,
spinning like a dog chasing a tail it could never catch.
I floated in that familiar sea of uneasiness—
confusion thick as fog, self-worth barely a whisper.
Possibilities clung to the edges of my mind,
lazy, fragile, almost out of reach.
I had pushed limits, done the impossible,
lived through storms most never see—
yet still the whisper called:
Who am I?
Some say it takes a lifetime to know.
I wasn’t sure I had that long.
Present
The breeze carried a song I couldn’t quite decipher.
I gave, I loved, I tried—
but the whispers tugged at the fibers of my being.
Who are you?
I answered the only way I knew:
I am a warrior.
Bound by honor, by family.
I don’t seek the fight—
I protect, I defend, I love.
But even warriors break.
I felt shattered into a million pieces,
no glue, no time, no map to make myself whole again.
Patience, I told myself.
Rebuild.
Find a different way.
Climb slower this time.
More care.
More listening.
But God, I was tired.
My unbendable will had been folded, twisted,
and only now was it beginning to straighten.
Fear crept in—
Can I do this?
I looked up:
I had been three hundred feet from the top,
and now I was back at the bottom.
So tired.
So scared.
But this time, I shed the weight—
ego, pride, doubt, fear, old versions of myself.
If I didn’t let go, I wouldn’t make it.
So I let go.
Even tired.
Even trembling.
I let go.
Future
And then—
the flowers.
Fragile, delicate, beautiful.
Yet somehow they survived everything:
the storms, the frozen nights,
the snow piled six feet high,
the blazing sun.
Every year they rose again,
taller, stronger, more radiant.
Resilient.
Alive.
I cared for them, watched them bloom,
and they taught me what I had forgotten:
love is fragile, yes—
but it is also the strongest thing we grow.
Even when we leave,
love remains in the soil.
It blooms again.
It carries forward.
It becomes the proof that nothing beautiful
is ever truly lost.
So I climb again—
slower, steadier,
with more care, more humility, more heart.
Because like those flowers,
I am learning that no matter the storm,
I can grow again.
I can bloom again.
And love—
the love I give, the love I’ve known—
will always rise with me.
Way back when I was a teenager, so many years ago
My friends and I would find a place to go to party hearty-ho
On weekends we would find a place to bring our keg of beer
And usually, all the teens from town would somehow show up there
We partied in the cemetery, we've partied beneath the bridge
We partied in the forts we built in the woods of Basking Ridge
Many of us would drink so much that we ended up throwing up
And then go back to the keg again and pour another cup
There were teens who had beer muscles, who would always pick a fight
I remember that some bully boy tried to pick one with me one night
I was one of the smallest teens, I stood about four foot three
I guess that's why this almost six-foot bully had picked a fight with me
We were partying beneath the bleachers at our local school
When bullyboy had pushed me down- thinking he was cool
I never had beer muscles, but if someone wanted to fight- I would
Mostly because I wrestled, and I wrestled pretty good
The girl we both liked seen him push me down, and that didn't sit with me too well
So, I jumped and swung and punched...and down that bully fell
Well, I guess I was the cool one, I made that bully's head swirl
Because in the end, I won the fight, and of course... I won the girl!