Long Reflexes Poems
Long Reflexes Poems. Below are the most popular long Reflexes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reflexes poems by poem length and keyword.
When I started guarding Najin and Fatu I was twenty-two years young.
I am now sixty-two, and I am worried about my reflexes.
Poachers have never stopped coming.
They are the only predators of the white rhino.
How much longer can they live? My partner Abdul asks me.
Some white rhinos live to be fifty years old, I tell him.
Will you still be guarding them when you are seventy-two?
I do not see why not, I reply. If I have my health.
He is a young buck, and I can see this reply amuses him.
We have had no troubles yet. This is only his second day.
When he has been standing all day in the grassland for forty years
Maybe he will be a little less eager to see a poacher.
Right now, he is waiting, and hoping.
Najin and I meet eyes.
Najin smiles.
Knowing what I am thinking.
In the dirty hands of poverty,
Scavengers of the Republic of Enlightenment
Quench their thirst under the eyelids of the proletarians.
A sinecure of hard drugs
To silence the lamentations of these birds of ill omen.
The crosses are upside down in the furnaces of hell;
Lucifer, the egregore of these bloodthirsty criminals,
Has no distinction against the sickles of the angel of death.
The Earth is allergic to love;
It is the war that invigorates all these hearts of stone.
I have hated justice since I waddled on the edge of the spiral precipice,
My attachment to dirty money, which is similar to a fanatic's devotion to spiritual beliefs.
Sleepless nights leafing through the black pages of my legal pedigree,
I love the silence of darkness, like the darkness of a sequestered coffin in a cemetery.
My reflexes are monetary and my passions are deadly.
I only have partners;
I'm not your brother, I'm lonely as death.
The mood of a Palestinian in the shoes of a Pharisee,
Suicidal like these Africans
Which cross the Sahara and the Mediterranean.
A Kalashnikov in the brain,
I proudly accept the darkness of my words.
I am angry like all these child soldiers from the cradle.
I fiercely adore freedom in the bowels of a France filled with fascists.
Negrophobes have the right to be angry;
After all, I'm just an ungrateful who always cheated.
I didn't come to assimilate,
Just amass without calculating before being expelled.
Flashes of macabre memories to erase my nightmares,
I'm starving, thirsty for hemoglobin like a vampire.
I have been walking on death row since I arrived on Earth;
For all my blasphemy, I will end up in flames.
Love's Unraveled Strings
Love's unraveled strings sound soft in the wonder that embraces me whole
To the one coiled through the world that spins endlessly in hypnotic motion
Of springs blooming upon you smelling to me of shame burned by sunlight
Of shamelessness definitive concept that beats my heart in your open chest
I dreamed you in the sweet replay of a dream forever promised and awaited
Destined for each other we kissed endlessly beneath the vault of heaven
A portion I took from our infinity that slowly trickles through our fingers
That drew with deep darkness the stars' chimeric outline in the night
When I'll be once more seized by longing that chains me within my soul
To your heart a gentle tamer with whips to colonize obedient ants marching
Down your spine's ridge scorching heats that burn my thirsty skin alive
To YOUR PARADISE a savage holy dance that would cover you tender child
With my childlike shadow patronizing your night with the pallid light
My white dove nailed in my head that flies itself as prey for the crow
The rarefied sky of my mind so high when I shall perish in time's sand
My heart I'll leave you stopped beating in the void that parts us always
I gift you at last love's heavy labors of wounded Achilles in his pain
Until our dead children lost in time we'll weep their fate together
The emotion of being becomes pure AESTHETIC of my love POETIC ENGINEERING
The loss of her ripe shamelessness counted from two to three to four
The letters of bitter anger of my love to separate themselves apart
Of eyelids' reflexes of cruel nature from behind your blind gaze's depth
To write with closed eyes to my love kisses secret hidden letters
Silent crunchings of your nothings borrowed from the future into past
Burned brambles of buds of green autumn that brings the cold wind of fate
Blooming your petals on command to your youth burned by flames consuming
To my old age not yet drained that flows in the heavy glass of time
That sings slowly love's broken strings in the wonder that envelops us
This time, they met in a house,
A place she never knew -
Homely, cozy, idyllic, peaceful...
It was like a dream come true.
There were aspects of their relationship
They both desired to explore.
They were in a playful mood
And they were keeping score...
He brushed his fingers down her torso
He felt the reflexes of a tickle.
He knew she was trying not to laugh
So he teased it - just a little.
Once she knew he discovered her weak spot
She gave way, then she got defensive.
In his triumph, she insisted
"I'm not ticklish - I'm sensitive!"
"Aye, alright. If you say so
But you are in denial."
"OK,' she asked, 'well what about you?"
He saw the mischief in her smile.
She reached out to grab him
But off he went to run.
"Coward!" She yelled playfully
And devised a plan for fun...
As he snuck back in to the house
She hid behind a door.
She leapt out on to his back
As his footsteps hit the floor.
After a rapid body search,
She found his weaknesses with ease.
But his achilles heel, it seems,
Is just behind his knees.
"Mercy! Mercy!" He cried out.
She giggled, "Don't you ever forget,
This girl comes with a warning,
She gives as good as she gets!"
"Oh does she now?' His eyebrows bounced.
'Well, why don't we explore this!"
A rush of heat washed over her...
Her dream fizzled out with a hiss.
look what is down the hill a spell
look who all is coming to see and escape
look what it does for the mind and the body
look at what life does to our focus and our vision
i love to watch the dogs express their happy feelings
i love to watch the birds flaunt their obvious freedom
i love to watch the little kids play, point, and wonder
i love to watch the grown ups show me what other ways to have a good time is
the sound of the water makes me smile for a change
the feel of the cool breeze relaxes my reflexes for a change
the artistic presentation of the blue skies helps me to forget for a change
the wonderful pleasure of her love teaches me about digging the little things for a change
thank God that a lady actually found a way to love me
thank God that a lady sees through my flaws and my imperfections
thank God that a lady finds the internal fun in the things that i am into
thank God that a lady keeps me grounded in the warm and wonderful realm of faithfulness
WEEBLES WOBBLE BUT THEY DON'T FALL DOWN
wicked wobbly weebles both wondrously
Junior Super Stretchy shame
Hippity Hop astonishly
Crazy forts
glow in the dark
Limbo Hop
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
The Cat in the Hat I Can Do That
Junior Super Stretchy I do blame
Sunny Patch Bella Butterfly Hopscotch
Jungle Jive Jungle Jive, Oh my
hold the plastic "amazing egg" and perform moves directed
By the cute monkey on a series of cards
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
But if they tip or drop the egg, they'll wake the giggly baby bird inside
Melissa & Doug Monster Bowling
indoor bowling set is fun, funky, and furry
Set up the pins for a game that's active, but also quiet
—well, except for the giggles
Wobble Deck wiggles
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
challenge their balances and improve their coordination and reflexes
While all the Gen X's walk and text
Falling off curbs and stairs
All this and grand pa dropped his cane
After that he slipped and fell on his can
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
10/31/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
Never have I has a role model, as you were my role models
Never have I compare myself with anyone,
Never have I looked down on myself
Never have I thought I was a mistake
I was born with a hand full of blessings
Raised in a township, in Mdantsane
But that did not determined my destiny, my future
Raised in a Christian loving environment
But that did not change who I am meant to be
You moulded me to be a leader
I might make mistakes, those are just learning curves
I might loose my temper, those are reflexes
I might be different, those are just your genes
I might be a blessing, embrace me with all your hearts
I might be old but I am still and always be your daughter
A rhino's eyesight is really myopic,
Perhaps that's what makes him so misanthropic.
His hearing and reflexes, though, are sublime,
He can turn on a nickel and stop on a dime.
The projection that grows
On the end of his nose
Is not really a horn, though,
As one might suppose.
And when he needs scratching,
There's another small hitch,
His legs are too short
So he can't reach the itch.
He's ugly, pugnacious,
Rude, and unsociable,
And his manners at mealtime
Are simply atrociable.
And should you insult him,
He'll never reveal it.
His hide is so thick
He prob'ly won't even feel it.
Arms like tiny windmills spin through morning air.
Aiming, she builds pathways?deep within her mind.
Another swing flows onward like waves upon the shore.
Awakening intention burns?as neural roads unwind.
Reaching past reflexes like butterflies from cocoons.
Rhythmic movements carve?the skills she'll always find.
Object permanence sparkles bright like diamonds in her sight.
Orchestrating muscles smooth,?her future self designed.
Hand-eye coordination weaves like spider's silken thread.
Happiness erupts when fists?and dangling targets bind.
Intentional movements bloom like flowers in the spring.
Infrastructure grows within?her brilliant, growing mind.
When you sort decades of electric cables from that box hidden away
It reminds of disentangling neurons haphazardly fired at random
It’s a beautiful day and you’re in it among sea saw and hammer
Hundreds of screws in the tool box and all you want is a single unbent nail
Somewhere hidden under plucky wall plugs and skewed rusty hinges
If life gives you lemons a power drill defeats convention
Nuts bananas and bolts mislaid in the fridge with washers and powder
Reveal the essence of an organized mind squished in the blender
Bedlam chaos fragmentation or glorious harmony
Synapses jumping like fleas on the mindful grey patched neuronal carpet
Heavily worn by August the Clown because a well led life is a circus
Knowledge pushed into action potentially in a meaningful way
Buttons in the haberdashery basket cased in creativity’s mad insanity
Knotted threads from life-long preservation of patchwork and passion
Enmeshed a few screws yet again and a bubble gum wrapper
And that hammer once more testing reflexes deflected patella and callus
A pendulum for more esoteric days and a Tarot card next to the cross
Saved for a rainy day of prayer and the coronation of dreams
After decade long quest a screw is still a screw whether loosened or nailed
The sander of unfinished living grinds on to an egg timer’s analogue fashion
And who an earth would prefer finding a rivet to crafting a poem
One possible morale of the story is that hardware plies softly myriads of magic
That in the wider scheme of things there are enough contraptions in the case
And once they start giggling and straying Pandora is happy
17th April 2019