Long Rapid Poems
Long Rapid Poems. Below are the most popular long Rapid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rapid poems by poem length and keyword.
a sea otter swimming on its back
bangs tightly-clutched mussel shell
against a fist-sized rock
atop its belly in rapid succession.
intense hunger pangs strikes!
on, and on, the sea otter bangs
with sheer determination.
hard work pays off, at last! mussel is wolfed down.
how's that for ingenuity?
a cute marine mammal with a human brain.
Forms I - Imagism- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Date written: 03/10/2022
April 5—Get a sport into a poem!
Make Baseball Great Again!
It is time
to make American baseball
Great again
starting with creating a worldwide
baseball competition
with each season
with the national champions
competing in a World Cup World Series
with the final round pitting the
North American Champions
against the winners of Africa,
Asian, Europe, and South America
with the final rounds
best of seven
always held in the U.S.
The other things to do
include rapid expansion plans
including the MLB teams
adopting local schools and colleges
fully funding baseball programs
and only hiring college graduates.
as players.
and making tickets affordable
no more than ten dollars per game!
if they do this,
we can make baseball
once again the best sport
in the U.S.
Let’s all join together
to make baseball great again!
POLITICS and its process should
reflect the wishes of the people
UNITED we stand and divided we fall
And if we stand for nothing,
We are certain to fall for anything
ZERO must never be the sum total
of our progress
ZEALOUSNESS wrapped in principles
and the truth is powerful
LYING and cheating are evils,
even at the ballot boxes
I and you must demand truth from would-be
leaders without regard to winning and losing.
NO one, whether politician or president
is ever above the law
GOD'S hand is still stretched out to
those desiring His help
THE time is now for us to divert
from paths that lead to disaster
IN all branches of our government,
may God's light shine
MORALITY'S rapid descent to our
nation's basement must be averted
EVEN so, every effort must be exhausted
to halt this runner-away train
SADNESS and sorrow, I believe, will cover
the face of the earth if this our 'one nation
under God' should ever abandon God
012724PS
RABBIT MY FAVORITE
Years back I had shifted to new address
where half the premise is occupied by wide non mowed lawn
full of feral wild grass in large mass.
Since then I was blessed with a favorable happenstance
of volunteer intrusion of a pair of rabbits.
They welcomed my first entrance to my new abode.
All day long they run, roam, wander
mainly on mossy glossy grassy lawn
showing free frolic behavior from early dawn to dusk
alluring, enchanting and entertaining me.
I am tempted not to watch leisurely
but to pay attention on their curious looks in inquisitive mood
never dawdling but prompt rapid movement on sudden swift turns.
Funny pose to hold an object by front legs using as hands
Cautious bite exhibiting cute chewing habit of a rabbit.
Though not my pets, yet my mates as regular visitors.
Not aware of their dens but to accept
as my lovable nearest neighbor.
By appearance rabbits claim some charm and elegance.
Bright vibrant in zest and zeal, Rabbit is my favorite.
i faint
tiles fall on me
bury me
words like star-floaters
i pop
but less shaky hands sizzle-scintillate
those hands arrange and rearrange
bittersweet flowers and baby’s breath
the rapid eye movement of a painter’s gun
passionate splotches
cover me before i blink sos
one serendipitous word
sensational bonus of fifty points
neon sign euphoriants — i lift
my opponent cheats
teases my tiles
through skeletal-fingers
rattling me
places them in a line
flicks her pointer
and the dominoes
tumble and turn
the dictionary and thesaurus bluster
until they lose their breath
my face burns
9/29/2018
Contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
A distant dog competes with wailing winds,
howling like a banshee in raging gusts.
And a child cowers under the covers,
hugging his teddy bear: a friend he trusts.
The moon is sullied, smeared with charcoal greys,
while lightning flashes light up his bedroom.
And raindrops fall in tumultuous drops,
as a cloudy, starless night, turns to gloom.
His tears swell, as emotional dams burst;
instantly flooding this little boy's face.
And as thunderclaps explode in the night,
his heart is beating at a rapid pace.
The world is a scary place when you're five;
filled with things that want to eat you alive.
A hummingbird hovers outside my window
Admiring itself in the reflection
I see its colors shine in the morning sun
Almost hypnotizing
Staring, I wonder if it sees me
Alone behind dusty mini-blinds
Vertical slices of faux wood
Narrowly showing the world beyond
I should smile at this “precious” scene
Spring is near in signs and actions
Yet I do not, I can not, for I despise spring
It is a symbol of life…new life
Life is the darkest thought of my mind’s shadows
What good is it, new or old or otherwise
You breathe, you wake, you want and you lose
Poetic splatters can’t mask these feelings
Pleading images claim all empty fault
As crimson blood runs the gutters
Splashing on concrete cracks twisted about my neck
Laughing from a back seat around the next corner
And still that hummingbird lingers…pointing
Tiny wings move in a rapid dance
It’s red throat casting aspersions in my direction
As I reach for my own…and it is wet, and I am crying
Down the stairs turned to chiseled rocky rungs
the fluid elegance cascades like an ebullient rapid
primal grace of Eve glistens on the satin skin
tinged with the hues of primeval beauty bounty
sculpted in curvy contours of Michelangelo finesse
and charming patterns.
Amorous lustrous stream flowing in cleaved vale
carved between the ambrosial mounds
opens up on the vista of the ivory meadow
supple rhythm of scented jasmine allures
wafting on the canopy of the yonder thicket
and waiting to be adored.
The porcelain ballerina feet as flittering as
the swan en echelon making rhapsodic design
half-way on the staircase stuck motionless
a statue draped in symphony of au naturel motif
the moonbeam lattice covers her with silver screen
and with enigma ethereal.
September 30, 2021
Brian Strand's Contest A Strand (1044)
In the green Adirondack foothills lies
the haven of our old summer camp,
once a place of adventure and outdoor joy,
and the loud cries of precocious scamps,
their energy you never could tamp,
scurrying ’round on small, rapid feet,
leaping into the pond without a beat.
I remember coming here myself,
gazing up at the grand totem pole,
the mess hall with fieldstone fireplace,
where countless tall-tales were told,
and lordy, was the pond bitter cold!
There was a trading post for candy, snacks,
and toilets which all amenities lacked…
To scampering kids it felt like we were
far off in a rugged wilderness,
that tall white pines just rolled on
in a vast and uncharted forest,
and we were just the ones to explore it!
The only sign of steel on our trails
was a pair of rusted, forgotten trial rails.
Then I came back here as an adult
and found the revelry was long passed,
the town had bought up all the old camp,
no kids raced swiftly ’cross the grass,
it had been too good of a place to last,
folks blamed it on poor demographics,
cell phones, and parents afraid of risk.
I suppose I should be thanking the town,
because the made the space into a park,
at the very least it will be preserved,
even though it’s missing that old spark,
and youngsters sprinting ’round on a lark,
they’re even cleared out some new ground…
by tearing half the rustic buildings down.
The trading post, now a picnic pavilion,
the staff cabins now an empty field,
the docks pulled up and carted away,
the pond belongs now to minnows and eels,
not entirely sure how I feel,
out there we swam and swamped canoes,
now it’s blocked off from public use.
The mess hall, at least, is still standing,
they say it’s becoming a historic sight,
but to see it still present, all alone,
somehow just doesn’t feel all that right,
with its clap-board fading in bright sunlight,
at least the boat-house still rises near,
though it’s probably collapse within the year.
I turned away in a very glum mood,
made my way to my car rather slow,
thinking of all I had done here
that my children are never going to know,
there are few places like this left to go.
it brings a well-known though to my mind:
Damn you, damn you, damn you time!
Attorney General William
Barr black marker in hand
kept promise to censor vital
details of Mueller Report
swift as Usain Bolt candidly,
grandly, lustrously, roundly
youthfully blocked out more
rapid than an elegant eland
vibrantly, regally, magically,
and gracefully skirts borderland
which favored topography
constitutes grassland or woodland,
far more pleasing to observe,
than reading adulterated brand
of aforementioned compilation,
distillation, edification, fortification
zeroing questionable activity
upon head of trumpeting brigand,
whose arrivistic, bombastic, caustic,
demonic, electric broadband
outsize ego still convinces
me, thee commander in chief
delegated one or more chargehand
perhaps while delighting as
gourmand savoring chateaubriand,
where his best buddies imagined
themselves in seventh heaven cloudland
every so often taking siesta sans repast
or golfing with grisly handicapped clubhand
non verbally communicating,
in viz sub bully taking a peas zing
cues from presidential high command,
which coterie (i.e. den of thieves)
manipulated social media with nefarious,
insidious, deleterious, et cetera
analogous to "FAKE" contraband,
maybe even milking innocent cowhand
unwittingly planting GMO electronic
bugs amidst future bovine fodder cropland
to allow, enable, and jackknife demand
that moost every eligible voter tricked
induced by virtual reality dreamland
with sinister motive for thee "Apprentice"
rule his kingdom, and expand,
realm asper Medieval days
declaring himself chieftain of fatherland
and/ or North American motherland
where naysayers guillotined
by uncontested firebrand,
who without provocation
very likely bomb into Stone Age
formerly edenic, lush, verdant
geography into flatland
rendered hostile, poisonous and uninhabitable
nonetheless radiating for miles with gangland
forced labor tilling barren, desolate, fissured
landscape erecting unsightly grand
standing room only (cause he know Shylock)
terrain (reign) vast highland
manor as poobah, and husband
to his only heiress, the former
a kooky monster from foggy bottom marshland.