Long Quarries Poems
Long Quarries Poems. Below are the most popular long Quarries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quarries poems by poem length and keyword.
Cid once said that I was his Final Fantasy
Cid lied...or did he?
I am thinking of all the sweet cucumber melon frits I have eaten.
And as a strenuous Soul once said to the Earth Goddess, "I am impeccable.", I roared back, "Impudity."
For I once was a seagull, high in dementia. Now I'm a porecilan pear just barely stinging TO dementia; my collar bone has no quarries. I am alone in this vast world unraveling, unwavering itself as a steady snail's pace at me, unto me. Unto ME.
For why in the world am I in such worry, Fizzle-Mc-Drizzle? Why am I seeing myself grope and sweep and sweat the night away into musty odors fit like a king of Barnaely?
Have I no compassion? The voice I hear as my echoing consciousness from Spirit World seems to think so.
For what world have I come from, strange inaudible Titan Atlas and Atticus still murmuring over the book, "To kill a Mockingbird?" Am I THAT preconscious?
Have I no compassion? The voice I hear inside my echoing head seems to think so from Spirit World.
Oh! Spitit Word...! Oh, of WGAT?
The wind is blowing softly like words spoken
in ancient temples built of stone, sharply hewn
from quarries dug in highland hills made barren
by creatures come to claim the woodland cedars,
for sacrifice and beauty they were chosen
to entrance us in the tapestry of weavers,
the goddesses of destiny and devotion
to the patterns of the silken threads, attuned~
the Fates decree, and who are we to question?
Listen to the wind as it swirls around decayed
headstones, hear it laughing like a ghost of yore,
or is it stirring trouble like a goblin crazed,
come to torment those awaiting somber tidings
of life once colored joyful, but now unglazed
by pale spectors and surly death's grim reapers,
and so the seasons tumble onward through decades,
dumb to pleasure, love or laughter, ever after
in a place where hopeless drudgery remains~
Listen to the wind now wailing winter's warning.
Brift Jia: Purofetto No Sutorirain
Profo hisoria: Enredo Profissional.... Shall speak to those
who have interest in wrestling.
The Voice of Bruft Jiza spoke through the Mask!
His age shall exceed 20 years.
they shall se him struggle
he among the lions he shall tame them
he shall tame the bears
and shall ut wrest the
marsh meateaters
his life will find him dispositioned
and he shall overcome those obstacles
and shall shine
as son: brother, neihbor
freind: and Lover
His womans willingness shall determine if he shall father.
She will restrict him from other women
that they might labor to divide them..He shall be unrecognized as a true champion
Said Bruft jiza who is Enredo Connaitras...Else Deveri Procura
Lo Na Derrata
Eles De Deveri Procura
Lo como Campesa
O poro escelhido e premiara como campeao
muitas empresas devern fazo-le
elsa devern viajar
para um lugar
secreto e tudus os trofeus deverm ser
recalhidas
la piel de un toro campeon...
encontraran gemas y metalas preciosos y la piel de un toro campeon!
TU le Connaitras!
as then he shall be champion
Tu le Contnaitras...
he shall hear a man wish
for his woman.
He shall hear the names of men
to replace him as champion
he shall be lored into conversations
his skin shall be tanned from the sun of an island
there many men shall shave an oil him.
He shall be cleaned by a woman
who shall sing to him
and the grapes and fruits of the islland shall
be feed to him.
hearing this many companies will send him trophies.
Trophies that havenot been solicated.
Twenty five trophies will say champion
in many laugages and in different places.
A place shall be built by novice.
There a oven of stone shall be made to feed him.
Quarries shall be searched for precious metals.
The gems from many places shall be sourced.
The strap from a championship bull shall be made
into leather. Gold And silver shall be made into a waist belt.
Many promoters shall meet there
and ask for the trophies they have sent.
They shall collect the trophies.
And these Cups shall tsallied and the
jewelers shall
concort there tresures and
a championship shall be promised.
Tu Le Connaitras!
Bel Canto!
My life is playing me
The whore that it is
Patient zero got it from her
The whole world is without protection
My life is beating me
The rod that it is
The whales can’t ever stop moaning
My whole world is with pain pollution
My life is breaking me
The rock that it is
All quarries would be empty
The whole world made of sand from a gods imagination
My life is scarring me
The raw wound that it is
A bed of corpses less gory
My whole world is graveyard for hope and salvation
My life is leaving me
The whole time that it is
My screams and shouts can’t even reach her
The whole world racing to unknown destination
My life is killing me
The load that it is
Drainages clogged, latrines like her mouth flowing
My whole world pushing problems to disinfecting solution
They sought wordage enough to establish the foundations
were they would afford enough and would venture into
the actual creation of an organization that
would look at today and sum up the facts of existence and
not only decide on the type of stone to create the statues and
trophies: but take the tractors and horses and the men to
the pits: quarries and mountain sides
find the stones , extract thee stones find the model and
carve .Association Membership Systems to afford
Union Parties and Galas.
Encourage membership. To
Have language that encourages
interest into the functions of structural detail.
Movement within the firm
so that promotions and demotions.
Trends and changes
income and analysis
Sussession:Stewartship and Stability
(Meddling)and Anti Meddling Processes
Unbeat and Positive.
( were you a clam poacher or
did you poach the clams? )
Lauage sepARTIONAL TERMS AND DISTINCTION)
4/30/17
Underneath what they consider lunar
Don't care if your name is super
So much for your future
And all of the rumors
There is nowhere you can go to outmaneuver
When I turn into Krueger
Take you out before the sound of the rooster
Whether or not on the computer
Or a scooter
Oh well that just makes one fewer
I don't care if you can't appreciate my humor
I come from the sewer
Not much of a snoozer
But a heavy duty boozer
Warning
Night and morning
The rage accumulating and forming
Before, during and after storming
In and out of areas with bugs that continue swarming
Feeling like Rick and not so much Morty
The temperature below, above or at the forties
In and out of different territories
Near and far from quarries
Coming in like Vorhees
It doesn't matter if you heard all the stories
Because nothing can prepare you for me
Considering that we all fall in different categories
And carry our own inventories
Mine can make it gory
Yours are empty normally
For you it just may end up horribly
Drawn out or ending shortly
I don't care about the glory
Or so called purgatory
A simple and friendly reminder
Don't have on your blinders
Think wiser
At elevations lower and higher
On foot or tires
Looking like Myers
In and out of areas devastated by fires
Above and below telephone wires
With a pair of pliers
Ready to eliminate any liars
Leaving behind no traces or fibers
Tried to go after me, but instead
He was caught, and pissed the bed
As it was off with his head
When I was Pinhead
Could be worse or better
More or lesser
Something that would do you some good to remember
Before I lose control of my temper
And become Lecter
Against whomever
Thinks their clever
Whenever
During any weather
The surrounding suddenly became redder
Not concerned about opinions
A one man army on a mission
They wanted to give me a million
Endless medical prescriptions
And to persuade me with religion
But I wouldn't give in or listen
Because I am a villain
By: Dalton Ogletree
I was once a Romeo
In gallant quest of romantic love.
For sake of which I wandered far afield,
Past mills and quarries, foundries and farms
Where good folk tend their business
And useful things get done.
As spring gave way to winter,
I found the climate daunting,
With freeze and thaw displacing by upheaval
My belief in happily ever after.
My confirmations became suspicioned,
And my satisfaction curiosified.
My ratifications were soon dutifully amended
And my achievements ambitioned
To a more sensible view of reality.
Having suffered hard time in the punishment block,
Where one’s thoughts then tend
To either stagnate or germinate,
I arrived at this one eternal paradox:
Only fools dare ever fall in love,
While only love can save the foolish from themselves.
12/18/16
This was written at five forty
I'm exploring
My mind absorbing
Information, afternoon night and morning
Winter time and we're in a terrible drought, so why isn't it pouring?
Days use to be quite boring
But no longer while putting effort toward things
Because this life can be rewarding
Close and far from any mined quarries
As well as buildings shorter or taller than nine stories
Girls and guys hoarding
Unable to throw things away or organize by sorting
They try ignoring
Acting suprised and ready to deny any scorning
Bugs of different types swarming
Birds, planes, and meteorites in the sky soaring
Houses with rotted or nice flooring
Both sides, all this time have been warring
Even though there have been kinds of warning
The start of thunder strikes with continual storming
By: Dalton Ogletree
I. Creation
Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests,
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.
Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.
II. A Home all Your Own
In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating
An eerie starry night
To you alone
In a home all your own.
III. Repent to your inner child
To regain a solid footing on the gun deck
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam,
Hearken lessons from the playground,
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body.
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited.
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor
In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.
Form:
CREATIVITY IN VISUAL ARTS
What is this creativity in visual arts
Where is it found, I believe it’s lost;
I don't believe that galleries are narrow?
For the paths they’ve taken now lost;
Water colored scenery of broken lovers quarries;
Galleries are broad pictures beyond belief.;
Are you upset by how tolerant they are?
Does it tear you apart to see the galleries so all-inclusive?
Exhibitions are not unromantic!
People goocking exceptionally total fanatics
Do exhibitions make you shiver?
Mystic elephants painted without his liver;
They paint a white line on a white wall;
I see spill black paint on the floor;
Are museums populated anymore
CREATIVITY IN VISUAL ARTS
I cannot help but stop and look at the yellow stitchery.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the stitchery,
Gently it goes - the cowardly, the yellowish, the white-liver part
CREATIVITY IN VISUAL ARTS
3/5/19