Long Radar Poems

Long Radar Poems. Below are the most popular long Radar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Radar poems by poem length and keyword.


Karen Windle Roughly On Par

Karen Windle roughly on par...
with being a miniature poodle size dogsend

Apartment B44 one bedroom unit
at Highland Manor low income facility
housing older folks convenient starting point,
to launch poem and invite reader(s)
reason(s) without rhyme
why yours truly (me)
chose to express heartfelt gratitude
toward resident Karen Windle,
which named individual most likely unknown

across world wide web
(hmm... maybe methinks perchance
possibly ye did sound her out courtesy radar,
especially if thee dutiful patrol officer
generously handing out -
not necessarily) winning lottery tickets
within vicinity encompassing
University of Delaware.

We (myself and zee missus) inhabit
aforementioned single bedroom abode,
allows, enables and provides
convenient reference point
upon exiting our dime a dozen quarters
(housing near penniless occupants)
verily orient toward left of hallway,
no need to access global positioning satellite

leisurely amble short distance
just count three doors down on the left,
thee will espy name tag printed
small letters Karen Windle
her acquaintanceship we did kindle,
now greater value when measured with corn,
wheat, or other commodities
approximately equal to three bushels,
but varying in different regions.

Explanation whereby appreciation
toward Karen (spry firecracker, energetic, 
diminutive, albeit frail looking gal)
materialized when series of unfortunate events
rendered me and mine spouse
without ready immediate access to automobile
near necessity within quaint enclave
identified as Schwenksville, Pennsylvania

affords absolute zero public transit,
hence necessity for chauffeur de jure arose,
whereby availability to shuttle us
found monetary compensation declined,
thus stymied intent regarding how I could
communicate sincere thankfulness
relieved when she would accept

poetic endeavor incorporating
best college try (mine) to alleviate
imposition if/when opportunity exists
to scrape meager money
and expect to sink a fortune
maintaining, insuring, fueling vehicle,
significant portion of social security (disability)

allocated to sustain reliability of car
dollar figure greater than buzzfeeding
caretaking, duties linkedin to
mental, physical, and spiritual health
concerning this aging baby boomer,
plus his counterpart approximately
previous couple dozen years.


The Black

rain. so cold. like small whips at my face swung by a man in a yellow coat too old and dirty to show sunlight anymore. waves attack the boat like a pack of wolves, darting, biting, gnawing, retreating, repeating. in the waves i see my reflection, a ghost, already drowned in that big blue  leviathan. my body just floating in its depths, floating free and unchained. liberated from the deck beneath my feet, the comforting terrain of the beast we sail through these uncaring waters, the only thing to keep us from the depths below. the depths so deep no sunlight would go. depths so dark. so dark. 
there are mountains down there, mountains and monsters and little rocks with little fish to call them homes. big rocks with big fish to call them little rocks. bigger  fish to call the smaller big fish food, and monsters to call it all a playground, a training ground for the endless struggle of land and sea. the monsters will battle and kill and win and live to fight and kill to die and these wars between the krakens, the serpents, the behemoths and titans of the sea. they clash with such bloodlust and splendor that the blows carry to the surface and release tidal forces unseen. 


diving. deeper and deeper, blue, purple, midnight black. soul crushing void surrounding, so open, so empty, so oppressing, so tight. i am flying, i see stars, i am a satellite through this expanse, my radar picks up nothing. blip. something. something close. blip blip. things. close things.  curled in a ball i am an asteroid, hurling through this darkness, i want to escape. every direction is darker, there is no north, there is no up. there is no trail of soggy bread crumbs. there is no expanse. there is a chasm, the walls are close and cold. they cannot be seen, they cannot be felt. they just are. the longer i look out into that black the closer they get, and the smaller i make myself the smaller i must stay. if i stretch out a finger, an arm, a toe, i will collide with something, or something will collide with me. i will be sent off course, careening into the walls of this underwater canyon, forever bouncing from sharp stone to sharp stone, ever falling downwards. or upwards? there is no bottom. i do not know which way bottom is, there is no top. there is nowhere that i came from, there is nowhere that i go. i am just hurling through black, and the black is crushing.
Form: Prose

Premium Member The Field Trip To the Civic Center

Do not be self-conscious or anything, but I have got my big ,rotatorof an eye on you.
I know your mama and yourdad, and I’m willing to let them know if you are not being true.
I cannot tell you that it is never odd or even, but I can tell you that it’s midway, and blue.
Eve, Bob, Otto and Anna are ready to jump right in that kayak and stack cats if they have to.

Don’t pop your eyes at me, young lady.  I do not care if we are at the civic center; I feel free
To do whatever I have to, to keep Evil Olive in check, and you also, my little bumble bee.
Who is looking for a nut for a jar of tuna? There is no  lemon, no melon, and it’s 9:03.
The radar gun is in the van with Hannah, anyway it was at noon, so I thought that it still might be.

Someone is outside the civic center is yelling, “No garden, one dragon!” What does that mean anyway?
I brought this 6th grade level field trip with me to have an interesting, fun-filled, learning challenged day.
I don’t need some nut-bucket ruining it for me, on every level, this is totally wrong, and I don’t play!
The mirror rimis brushing against the tailgate of the bus we brought, but that is for the driver to say.

Now where in the Sam hill crazy town, is that blue nylon solokayak that was attached to the top of our bus?
I thought we could have one blasted solo-inspired field trip to the civic center without a bunch of fuss.
I realize it is noon, and people are hungry and crabby, and the blue kayak is a big fat muss.
But you have to realize that Eve, Bob, Otto, and Anna were the ones assigned to straighten this big tuss.

I always get the blame when things go wrong, as everyone blames the poor old mama.
The dad is just as much to blame, but there he goes, taking off on a fat llama.
I’m ready to pop my cork, and pitch a fit that would shock the Dad, so much.
Aha! Here he is, back to chow down his fabulous, hand-stacked pepperoni lunch.
Form: Rhyme

Hit 'Em Up Collaboration With Brenda Chiri

I write like bakers bake
my rhymes make earth shake
Going into contest with me was your biggest mistake
I control the earths plates, tectonics, your rhymes are bollocks
I cause land slides and earthquakes
I don't hate but I do devastate,
Is the rhythm of your rhyme hidden?
I'm going back and forth with my decision
I'd like to think it's something I'm missin'
but I cant see it in what you've written,
You stagnate rhymes
I contemplate the punishment for these crimes,
don't harp that you'll defeat me 
I'm a giant you can't even see me
Now back and forth like red and meth I hand you over to little missy,
you pissed us both off so we share a rhyme to make you look silly.......... 

Your rhymes don't even matter
my pockets is gettin' fatter
Yours getting flatter
When you heard the glass shatter
That means me and my homies gathered
Now you bout to feel the wrath of
Somethin' that you wished you hadn't of
And all I can say is back up because I'm bout to act up
It might not concern you but
I'll thermonuclear burn you, you're a human sacrifice
Cuz I be smashing mics with the Passion of Christ and 
Stay fully loaded, equipped with action devices 
Me n trim shady here to party like Tom Brady 
We stay cooler than an Eskimo baby 
V is for Victory, we mastered your trickery
Tryna clock like dickory, get smoked like hickory
So please stop the bickery, you can't get rid of me 
Fire colabs from here to infinity 

you heard her infinity
even with a radar and map you cant find our reality 
we're in another galaxy 
you've barely the ability of a fetus 
how dare you compete with us
 and this U S U K special relationship isn't putting you at a handicap 
it's natures act, you can't rhyme or rap 
put your dick between your legs and make a tail 
walk away with your head down cus your insults fail, 
the only insult that landed is that you went up against us
 with terrible stale dribble 
that you squiggle 
all brainless and minimal 
like an unevolved mammal 
writing without the opposable thumb by miracle 
sounding dumb and undesirable,
when I read it I became miserable, 
I desire a quick fire high flyer 
like me with quick wit that aspires but you were dire 
and dim, you aint no Trim,
you're a fool who should return to school. 

collaboration with Brenda Chiri
first and third Trim
second Brenda
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Life Had Fallen All Apart....

Life had fallen all apart.
Is Their a hope or not.
I had a women that I loved a lot.
Their was something in her eyes
don't know what it was about.
I loved her mind,body, “n” soul.
But one day she suddenly changed without been told.
She was a blanket for me when I was cold
such love I gave her
such time we spent together
when I was close to her
I wanted to go more closer
when I had her for one day
I wanted her forever
but one day I try to get closer and closer
she was running away further and further
she was worth more than time
wanted to make her mine
not just for one day
but for hoel life.
No matter what other says
 she was one of a kind
always thought of that way in my mind
but one day she broke my heart and it look like it didn't even worth a dime.
Time change people change
what happen to me its me to blame
I left my heart door open for my love to claim
but she broke it without any shame
time by time wanted her by my side
if it was a morning or it was night
never wanted loose her out of my sight
always wanted to look at her till I die
never hope for her to say goodbye
always want her to say hi'
and see her face by the light
ever tho before I met her my life was dark
we went to watch movie call radar of ark.
She hold my hand so tight 
it felt like a tree falling down by lighting spark
and my heart started beating fast
I always hope that wont never last
 god had send her to take my test
but I dont even know the result
did I fail or did I pass
I always thought you learn from your mistake
but I never thought I will learn it when its break
such as my heart fall in love with her mind
never thought it was that blind
I told her time by time
I love you I love you I love you
but she never believed and broke my heart
because only I knew it was true
I introduce to her all my friends one by one
all the time spent together it was fun
but all that happen in the end
she says it is done.
Always thought we gonna be side by side
watching moon and sun
but I never thought she would left me behind and run
its far more then race for me
but now she have run so far
now I cant ever see
I always wanted to make her happy
and do things like she always wanted to be
always  dreamed to kiss on her lips and feal the taste
but never would of thought in the end
she would lie to my face......
Form: Name


The mechanism of seeking the connection

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Especially with motivational bias
Intrinsic or decoherent formation
The access levels breach by human mass

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Is due the common bias that supports
Desire for all process automation
The physical the fitness is the sport

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Whether desires of others shall we satisfy
The mass affect on psyches with exemptions
The mechanism is probably WIFI

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Implies that humans are the chemical the mass
Because all these in Internet and politics “reactions”
TerminolOgy of the human this bias

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Are differenciated between you and wild
And while is none the business yours is wild the nature
I am also one of you if I am filed

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Between my file in organs and the me
Existed maybe be rather for the penetration  
The very outdated is your C 

So let's address ID of yours
They say when children are the young 
They seek their own ID

Perhaps their souls and their minds 
Won't really fall for category of the fashionable stan??
In search for their Ids
In time of war prepare for peace 
In time of peace prepare for war
What are you really for?

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Are fading as your prioritization are disproved 
In seeking many ways for the monetization
Your whole existence is a giant unwanted spoof

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Between radar of military and the airplane
You reckon,  buddy mine of the negation
That this particular the generalization
Would render system of your build as sane?

The mechanism of seeking the connection
Of weird human groups who's eager to assist
Resistance is a trait of this negation
My human right is kinda to resist 

The mechanism of seeking the connection 
Draws value out of you as you degrade
The round is degree of the 360
How is this calvin would convert to centigrade?

The mechanism of seeking the connection



The mechanism of seeking the connection



 
The mechanism of seeking the connection


 

The mechanism of seeking the connection



*organs are term in russian lingo for intelligence services, such as NSA in US, maybe because short for organization
© Kate Kelly  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Blue Avians and the Poetic State of Mind

"Blue Avians and the Poetic State of Mind 

post apocalypse
the mother 
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.

when it came to 
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to 
seek the assistance 

of those ancient
wise creatures.
they had a keen sense
of the poetic.

without speaking,
they intuitively 
understand
the misunderstood.

The Blues
shot right through 
to the heart 
of the matter.

Triangulation. 

seated in 
lapis lazuli
Merkaba 
thrones

they fly
in fierce squadrons
sharp eyes, and minds 
surveying the In-Between Place.

extra sensory perception
they lock into targets
reading signals hidden
under the radar 

the cloaked 
co-ordinates
of the Draconian
the great pretenders,

finding weakness
in the criminals’ 
fading camouflage.
slippery scales, light weights,

the Draconian 
are bird bait;

too shiny, 
inherent and inherited
reptilian, lizard minds
unsettling reprobates 

in false light armour; 

their dangerous enabling
supporting the 
underbelly of it all,
their brother, 

the venomous 
Arachnid army.

The Blue Avians
saw deep inside
the Necromancer’s
deep indigo heart,
the blue heart of true mother.

they were for her 
with faith 
every time;

for like them, after all,
she also could fly
with the full strength, 
the force of will in her mind.

they would fly 
by her side. anytime.
they held no fear 
of her motives, 

her just moment,
her calling mission 
for return of her child,
in the fullness of time.

they see
and they feel
the fierce call 
of the Necromancer’s
true mind.

post apocalypse
the mother 
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.

when it came to 
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to 
seek the assistance 

of those ancient
wise creatures,
they possessed a keen sense
of swift justice. 

they read 
without speaking
truth in 
the poetic,

a unifying 
undying 
poetically alienated
state of mind

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)





"I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset; 
I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky." 

"In the sphere I am everywhere the centre, 
as She, the circumference, is nowhere found." 











Eye of Horus.
Horus.
Thoth.

Nuit.
Form: Narrative

Mosquitoes Please Beware

Mosquitoes Please Beware


With an audible snort of disgust, 
I pushed back this chair of mine...

In my head, I angrily exclaimed...
Oh, no! Mosquitoes, they are at it again..

Dreaded mosquitoes, they make my life miserable..
Incessant buzzing and painful bites are inseparable...

I bent forward and low in this chair,
Swept my eagle eyes left and right...

Hoping to sight that obnoxious insect...
Daring it to fly into my area of sight...

Both my palms are opened and poised for action,
Eyes radar sighted onto the insect's flying position...

With the patience of Job from the Old Testament...
I waited patiently, eyes peeled and ears well tuned..

Where is that buzz, the flying sounds I know so well...
There!  Out of the corner of my eye, I spied its flight...

I trained beady eyes hungrily on its ziggedy flight...
There is no way it is getting out of my sight...

In my mind I relish the thought of squishing this insect...
Slapping it dead within my palms is only the first step...

Mentally I drool as I imagined my feelings when I get to crush...
This nasty insect which is about to meet its doom in a rush...

A little closer, my lovely six legged friend with gossamer wings...
I'm sorry but I am the Maker your trouble making brings you in...

Smash! What an almighty clap of my palms in your honour...
My palms, they sting, they smart but that does not matter....

I opened my palms in jubilation, I have taken drastic action...
But what is this, both my open palms they are in spotless condition...

Woe is me! My almighty slap, that mother of all slaps, was in vain...
By some miscarriage of justice, this mosquito escapes to torment again...

Here it comes, gossamer wings blurring as it flies shrilly into sight...
Daring me, challenging me, inviting me to again kill it in its merry flight...

Involuntarily, my nostrils flared as again I snorted my disgust...
Bent over in my chair, crouched low as once again I lay in wait...

Fervently I uttered a silent prayer of deliverance from this flying evil...
As once again with the patience of Job I waited to pulverish this evil...

Fly hither, fly thither, fly merrily, fly unerringly into my sight if your dare...
Better warn your brethen, bloodthirsty fiends they are, please BEWARE!
Form: Narrative

The Psychic (Another True Tale!)(Pt. One)

this may be hard to believe, but it's true.  will be written in prose for my sanity's 
sake (too late, dummy!!)...let's begin our story....
in the 70's, as a musician, I had a band with my two cousins.  the bass player 
and singer- of incredible talent, was Bill.  the rare kind of person who lights up all 
the bulbs in a room when he walks in.  he was also my best friend..though 
younger, I had him over my house every weekend.  the other cousin, Charlie, the 
drummer- also very talented (in a 3 man band, ya all better be smokin')- but 
Charlie was a dark character- never really to be trusted- he lived with me and my 
parents, cause he was always bein' thrown out from everywhere- and the cops 
had him on their radar. I was the keyboard player.  we did originals as well. all of 
this in the early 70's.  after each jam/rehearsal- we'd go out to party- beer, bars, 
girls, etc...... well for reasons we need not deal with..after a period of some local 
success- we stopped playing- I threw Charlie out when I found his drugs (our 
agreement was no such thing!!)-  and for years after, I would just jam with Bill 
and a revolving parade of others.  for fun.  in dec. 1977, I got the horrible news Bill 
had been killed in an auto accident- something I am yet to recover from...I had 
some pictures of us playing blown up into posters.  Charlie ran to Ariz- he's back 
and forth all the time, depending on where the heat is less intense.  so years 
later (1990) he came to town, and we had a reunion jam...and pictures were 
taken.  when developed, Charlie, arm out, hand open, as in greeting is shown in 
the picture...with a clear stream of what appears to be ectoplasm streaming from 
Bill in the poster directly into Charlie's open hand!!  wow, bizzarre!  best yet to 
come!  sometime thereafter, my girlfriend Rosie and I went to a local psychic- 
intrigued by what appeared to be real knowledge from elsewhere- so to test- 
we came back with the original picture of Charlie and the ecto...sealed in an 
envelope-  surprisingly- she said she saw the accident, she saw twins (he was a 
twin)- he died with his new white shirt on (he did) and a few other tidbits that 
startled me and Rose.  and she never opened the envelope!  some weird stuff, 
no?
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.

The Scars On Your Arms

I found you in my peripheral the other day
Thought I had scrubbed you out, but i was wrong
And I hear that I'm off your radar but I can't believe that
Or I won't believe that

Cause you were like a drug dealer
Dealing listening ears and crying shoulders
Dealing blood and tears and sly winks
But you never shoot your own junk
Just made sure we were all buying

And now I still can't drive by 12th and D
Without trying to remember
Who got cuffed to the porch rail
Cause they were getting outta hand
Or that night you pointed your claw at me
And marked me for your own

You'd always tell me that I knew why
I knew the reason didn't I
Abd I was too scared to tell you no
No, sorry, man, I didn't know
Still don't

But I still can't drive past Java Jazz
Or where it used it be
Without seeing you rock out to The Sickness for the thousandth time

When everybody else got clean of you, I was the one who still had the shakes
It took six people to talk me down
Open my eyes
It took bolt cutters to sever those strings

And now I'm standing by myself, bleeding into this wine glass for no real reason
Guess I'll put on a band aid and start walking
Might as well put down the blades and start walking
That's all I've ever known how to do
Just sew it up and move on

But I think you know why I still can't walk the railroad tracks without casting glances to my back
To see if you're still there

You're not
But you knew that

Maybe we'll see face to face again sine day, 
But we'll sure never bleed vein to vein again someday
And I think you know why

And maybe someday I'll walk down 14th without looking up to the balcony reminding myself that time-turners aren't real

I guess I still hold on because I know that when I finally let it go, it'll be gone

And all the time I spent working my way to your right hand will have been a waste

but even if I can't abide the vampiric twinkle in your eye I know that somehow I'm still under your skin
In your veins

I know that our book is still open like a wound
Like the scars on your arm
And before I slap on the band aid and walk away I guess I just need to say
That I'll never walk down the railroad tracks again without tossing a glance over my shoulder

Wishing you were still there

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