Long Rayed Poems
Long Rayed Poems. Below are the most popular long Rayed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rayed poems by poem length and keyword.
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
The Great Lie
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
I believed that once
I laughed and chatted to my friend
As we boarded the troopship
To take us to the far side of the world
Never been abroad before
We were excited in Colombo
Marvelled at Singapore
Fell in love with Hong Kong
Then north to the fighting
My task, set up and operate a field x-ray department
Wherever I look there's mud
Ubiquitous mud
Even the women, four foot by foot with a ‘tach, smell of mud
Bill said 'but that one's not bad'
They shipped him out, he's gone mad
It all seems quiet
Is there a war?
One night we hear the thunder
Of heavy guns
Then only in a few hours
They come like a flood
The laughing smiling young boys I knew
Now bloody, broken dying old men
What is so bloody sweet?
This is not our home
Days and days went by
With no respite
Amoebic dysentery struck
A major battle raged
My patients come
Like a tide
A remorseless powerful tide
With broken limbs to be X-rayed
So I, with *****running down my legs
Stood there without protection and X-rayed them one by one
How bloody sweet indeed
I had never seen Death before
A lull, and they hose me down and my floor
But still they come
I mourn the loss of so many
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
Sweet my ****
I curse the cynic who coined this lie
Quintus Horatius Flaccus should have been strangled at birth
And still they come
Hoping for succour
Hoping for relief from pain
Some times only the peace of death is theirs
Some welcome him; you can see it in their eyes
We are not uplifted but coarsened
A callous round our hearts protects us
And still they come
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
O Christ the Guns are louder
Are they nearer?
Dysentery cured
Still I *****myself
This time in fear
Only discipline holds me to my post
And still they come
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
It's in Latin so it must be true?
And still they come
O God will it never end
I'm tired but have no backup
I'm on my own and near despair
Then the tide of battle changed
The flood drops to a trickle
I could sleep now.
And she is not bad, warm and gentle
Who cares about a little 'tach
And she's brought me tea
I will sleep now
Until it starts again
Buying corporate profit tickets
to this June's PRIDE event
does not feel therapeutic,
where once lived public trauma.
Another annual rite
of well-bred socialization
political masturbation
with no flavor of resistance
to white-washed Capitalism's greed,
to straight Patriarchalism's need
to rapaciously breed
to gluttonously feed
on humble margins
of truly empowered
LeftBrain dominant humanity
not RightBrain depressed
demonically repressed
satanically oppressed
devilishly suppressed
Right supremely unimpressed
by deeply felt insanity
born a profanity
against Earth's Straight
White
MonoTheistic God
False idol
of patriotic
nationalistic pride
parades before
and lingers after
sins against EarthMother's uncapitalized
poor in spirited nature
Our planet's
traumatically wounded child,
x-rated
x-rayed
x-cised
by homophobic
feministphobic
Afrophobic toxins,
divinely inspired hate,
monotheistic vengeance-is-mine
militaristic fate.
This, and future, summers of inclusive love,
I would give away invitations to proud PASSION,
co-passion
compassion
compassionate integrity
passionate enquiry
of Left erect
correct cognition
greets Right flowing
enlightened growing
synergy glowing
sacred felt reconnecting
concelebrations
Of timeless
dipolar co-arising parades,
out-rageous raving displays
of globally spectral
spectacular
spiraling circular rainbows
of regenerating strings
and co-passionate things
Sacred hope promises
form ribboned resonant faith
for love
of EarthTribe's holy
co-emergent DNA diversity
deeply held
in silent summer whispers
Inviting year-round
and full
and sweaty wet PASSION plays
stories
narratives
epic songs,
starred night light
and lunar displays
Flowing Right
Left strength
universally full
uniting Color
Healthy polycultures
wealthy multicultures evoking
not revoking
compassionating
never mindlessly sedating
fully woke
out celebrating
Earth's PASSIONTribe.
Two true taboo nocturnal friends
Bedeviling the vernal places;
Un-men unto un-town's undead ends,
Under wrinks in mansworld's faces;
Take care me boys, wear Wolfrat clothes -
Make sure you're tooled - tooths fully bloodied?
Put yer foot in ther gutter that 'Overworld' loathes,
Splosh mirror truths Ministers muddied.
Rah, in the street-wright night-boy club!
Be prey, but with Lionheart essence!
The hungry punk-hunt shade that coin-eye pub;
Beware those sado-mermaid's fluorescence!
Beware those sirens, strident scribes,
Evade the Lamp-rayed Hag of Hoar!
Abhor the barb'ry boo's of the Boozeblooded Tribes,
Fear the Head-Rider's ritual roar!
And hide from those trackening opal eyes,
through which blind the Lopeful Coghagi pries -
You must weather the trail of the Bufferjudge Snail,
Whose pregnant tongue licked dead your railbridge braille.
*
Go, but beware every towner! fearless be, me boys!
Your game plays real monsters, that dread light-world's lost toys.
Go, snuck under covers, worlds without Mothers, going down,
Below bewildered barrowers in semi-detached mounds -
Over crows' roads, to ausider's ground
To un-town's electrical woods
To the alleycaves icebound ancestor's found
Where Messy-'A's were named in saints hoods.
In those estates of homeless air,
Cracktheadrals of drizzle in stars,
Go, urchins - nuke town to show you are there,
Re-score the old world's oldest scars!
Bring plaster peace, scrawl boundaries,
Two Pilgrim imps watch n sign posts -
Dripped under zipped walls of all crawling sundries,
Crossing the Freightmines of neon-roped ghosts.
With your chats, plans, laughs, paths run,
Why do it, ink 'round them Weird Wenders?
You scorned ghouls fly there for glorious fun
As humans - not those over-town pretenders.
Then, minxing in, to light world
Where un-town and-town blend
Hide your goblin masks, your darkness of pens -
And part home with big hugs, as any-world friends.
One day, Myopic Milo; went slithering across the street; and met with some misfortune; as a car, he tried to greet.
It really sent him flying; that half-blind, water snake; so to a chiropractor; a visit he would make.
Into Dr. Juneau’s office; his kinked-up body crawled; the receptionist took one look at him; she screamed and then passed out. “I guess I’ll have to help myself”; Myopic Milo thought and crawled to an exam room but, empty it was not.
In the empty room, he crawled up on a bed; when Dr. Juneau entered, what a shock; when Milo said, “Hi Doc!”
Now Dr. Juneau had a gift; fluent in animal-speak, he asked Milo why he came; looking over Milo’s kinked-up body; paused in deepest thought.
“I’ve never worked on a snake before”, he told the desperate snake; “all I can do is x-ray and try, with no guarantee that, you’ll leave her feeling better but, we can see”.
Milo in his agony, quickly replied, “oh please”. D. Juneau then x-rayed him and then he did proceed. “Now, this may hurt a little; your whole spine is a mess”; and he pressed, cracked, vertebrae into place quite easily.
One at a time he cracked and popped Milo’s entire spine; he knew he’d done it right when Milo let go of a big old sigh. “It’s on the house”, he said; “just be aware when crossing streets”.
Milo was so happy; his body felt brand new; all around the office he slithered; thanking everyone in sight; he even thanked the armatures while some patients took their flight.
As he slithered to the main door; the receptionist turned around; Milo cried out loudly; just to thank her for her time. When she looked down at the floor and saw him; she fell quickly to the ground.
Milo went along his way; he headed to his home hole; very carefully. He quickly learned to double check his movements before going by, feeling for any vibrations on every freeway and street.
Heading to a cauldron in the dry sea of sands
Far afield the Sahara shores devoid of life
With an array of dexterous army riding further North
Our horses neighs as honed swords beholds Amir al-Mu'mini's hands
Death on battlefield is an honourary worth
Even the treasures of war fuels this sweet strife
To bring back silvers, gold, and pleasuring flesh
As a "Missing-Captured" for my already bloated chambers
And the crown will yield more cowries if Allah blesses
The throne, to rax few shells to the proselytes or sheik in the madrasas
Who barely tattles my fate but extols me greatly
The fogged dust on our tarsals censored vision in the brown mist
And the day mocked our sights
Yet we fought with fallen numbers till the sun left the east
To the west with blunt swords clanging defeat
While the crescent moon and rayed star decked the night
Our feral horses snorted as the numbers of our enemies diminishes
From thousands to hundreds and then tens till they are no more
Then rode us to the oasis under the night's eyes
The wind sang victorious song for us while we quench our thirst
Even when water taste like sand as we drink there was plenty to pour
In our jars for the next few day's ablution
~
Our flintlock muskets hug straight at our back
As we rode our horses with our prisoners of war
Tied with our turbans to a caravan camel
Along with ostriches, ivories, kolanuts and salts
To a waiting parade while my horsemen brandished their swords
It excited the maidens who peeped under a parasol
Their breast dangles like ripe mangos in a tree.
My father rode to me with his horsemen chanting the greatness of God
He was Clad in an ostrich's feather in his turban
He embraced me and the trumpet went amok with melodious sounds
These I've always desired - a titular prince
Worthy of all admiration in the whole of the five emirates
For the break.fast at hand,
So that I'll understand,
He makes me a sloppy jo.
... ug. So over I rolled.
She nibbles at JO,
waves g’morning to MO…
Mmmm.
A tasty treat, made so sweet,
I’m glad, one of us can cook…
First it was Sweez, now it’s Swowz…
I politely, normally don’t eat cows.
Having said that, while I pet my cat,
I’ve bitten in anyway.
Was like the day, the corn turned grey,
Was that by chance, in May?
!! Eleven elevens !! cried those sevens,
While being tossed into the pan!!!!
Who is the cook with spatula hand,
Who is the chef, and Who, this man?
. . . . .
Little salt my dear?
Little taste on the fix?
Was that May?
Or did you say May-trix?
. . . . .
With the morning JO,
He makes Sloppy MO!
How can I show him, to understand….?
My friend the chef, reads to the left,
So Who, is the spatula’s hand?
Psst…
They want a plan.
Four corners are on…
and the Dan said ‘when’.
. . . . .
Don’t assume, my cutest Jew,
That spelling is all for not.
My dog is a Rot, but a Rot she’s knot,
And the language She barks is new.
Did you want that clue?
Bye and bye, for now I must fly,
My belly has quite the mix.
Did he say JO, or was that MO?
I know, SHE said May-tricks.
. . . . .
Hey Jo…?
Little Do,
Rayed me,
but falls hope?
Know,... T.
La.tte...my Dear?
Satire is *****.
Hugs you love,
The morning calls,
From Above.
Xoxox
. . . . .
Makes note: keeping friendship.s.new, that's me and you.
~I'm such a muse.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
~wow and meow the Catz say, how,
!~! did he fix you, a sloppy JO?
Does he not know,
That you never show,
Your face, in the drive and go?
~except maybe four treats,
that have no feet...
Like the splits, and
the camels, pistachio...
~and why aren't cow,
a treat you say?
~they have square feet,
and it's knot my way.
(alternately titled ringleader Harris hooligan,
Hence, any resemblance
between characters port
rayed, and living persons
purely coincidental.)
Claim to fame creating
an overnight sensational
boom town explained
by lodestone of zinc
while the town
crier fast asleep
(until next to last 21st sentry
caught up on
much needed
protracted wink),
his dreams informed
him of a getaway,
whereat just
with mental power to think,
could render forth pour
favor riches aplenty
appearing once
one did awake
meanwhile oblivious
to encroaching hoodlums,
whom didst blithely slink,
(analogous to a
waltzing skater on a smooth
as glass ice rink,
whereat razor sharp blades
noiselessly sliced cold air
with an imaginary plink),
thus while one man guard
zonked out, sans steeped
in a glistening escapade
cuddling, nestling, and snuggling
with his pet mink
Hun dread scandalous vandals
(Atilla among them)
word less lee
located weakest linkedin chink
coalescing, comprising,
and constituting,
an otherwise excel lent access
duff fence sieve link
iron wrought chained
formerly mistakenly invincible
against a Trojan
Horse, now even
vulnerable to a dolled up,
decked out disguised rat fink,
slithering snake like afore
the zoned out patrol
did awaken and blink
only after invasion of swiftly
styled, harried tailored,
foo fighting beastie boys
ex post facto, when steely
dan sing motley crue
made discernible noise
far to late for the
"FAKE" Don to trumpet
successful "Stormy Daniels"
counter attacking ploys.
...
My pupils met his, and immediately my eyes opened.
He saw my past, my present and the future to come.
Simultaneously, my body fell to its knees in submission
As I began to wail and confess, "Jesus-! Jesus-!
I am sorry! I am sorry! I love You! I love You!"
I knew He knew who I was and all I had been doing.
My heart begged for His forgiveness, longing for his love.
With his eyes still fixed on me, I trembled in anguish.
He overshadowed me, and the fear of torment
Particulated off of me. Then, I saw my mother's face.
(I knew she had been praying for me with great concern.)
Then, without a word, I saw Jesus reach out to me.
He touched my back as if to lift me up with great force,
But with one last cry of His name, "JESUS-!" I woke myself up.
I was kicking and moving my arms when I came to.
I was still on earth, but it was real. I confessed my sins again and again.
I went to the bathroom to rouse myself, then to the opened window.
I was hot and sweaty and too afraid to sleep. I sat up in bed,
Turned on my bedside lamp, and began to write this dream.
Mirjana, turned toward me and asked me why I could not sleep.
I simply told her that I had to write, and she turned over.
I finally finished, turned out the light, wrapped her arms around me,
And closed my eyes. I could still see His light brown eyes and outline of His face,
As if I had gazed at the sun too long and its image was x-rayed in my mind.
What was He going to do? Would He have taken me somewhere?
Was he going to show me something? Would he come again?
I do not know, but this was the second time I saw Him like this.
All I know is that He is perfect, and there is no darkness in Him at all.
Annabelle Albatross’s amazing aquatics astound audiences at Atlantic airshows.
Bill Beaver’s barrel-rolling barely bumps bobbing buoys.
Crustaceans crowd cramped coves. Charlie Crab cowers, camouflaged creatively.
Dennis Dolphin dives deeply dragging down desirable delicacies.
Elegant electric eels electrify everything. Edgar Eel eats extensively.
Fancy Fanny Flounder flaunts fluorescent fins.
Gigantic gems glisten, giving George Guppy giggles.
Henrietta Hippo holds hands harmoniously hugging Henry Hippo.
Isabella Ibis is inching inland. Infant Iris Ibex idles indoors.
Jeremiah Jellyfish jests joyfully. Juvenile jellyfish join Jeremiah.
Kibitzing Kingfishers keep kids kicking. Katy Kingfisher knits knickerbockers.
Luminescent ladybugs land lightly. Light-hearted, lily-white lizards lounge leisurely.
Many manatee move marvelously, making mini musical masterpieces.
Noone notices ninety needlefish nestled neatly near nets.
Oscar Octopus ogles Ophelia Octopus openly. Ophelia observes Oscar’s oddities.
Pretty Penny Platypus playfully poses.
Quirky Quincy Quail quickly quits quacking.
Racy Rhonda Rattlesnake ran races ‘round round racetracks.
Sassy Sammy Salamander snoozed silently, snorting sand.
Tarsiers traverse terribly tall trees trying to track tiny termites.
Unique umbrellabirds update unclear unicorns under umbrellas.
Voiceless vultures vacate very vivid vegetation.
Wally weasel watches walrus’s wade, wisely waiting.
Xena x-rayed Xyli Xenops.
Young Yuri Yak yelled “Yuck! Yogurt!”
Zombie zebras zip-lined, zealous zookeepers zig-zagged.
Started July, 1996
Finished Feb, 2018