Long Relaying Poems
Long Relaying Poems. Below are the most popular long Relaying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relaying poems by poem length and keyword.
Abominable Aborigine
Boycotted Baltimore’s Bakery
Canady Canola’s Cannery
Decoded deceitful debauchery
Endless energetic energy
Forwarded farmyard frolicking for a fee
Geographically greeting in Germany
Hardcopy happiness hee hee hee
Ignoring ignorance illegally
Juicy juggling juggernauts
Kettledrums, Kenya and Kentucky
Livening up our literacy
Maniac madness in a manatee
Nightingale nips so nervously
October’s ocelot obviously….
Paralyzes Petunia Parkway’s parenthesis
Quaking quail quickly qualifies me
Relaying relative radioactivity
Scapegoats and scarecrows so scantily
Treat Tajikistan twice tactfully
Undermining Ukraine’s utter ukulele
Vaporizing various vanities
Wicked Washington warrants wisely
X-rays xylophones ‘xtra-instantly
Yellow jackets yield young yearly
Zippy Zeus’s zesty zoology zings with zeal between you and me.
Sitting in a cloak of black conservatism:
I feel my hands,
oily on the desk like shortening in
slate gray cookie pans,
the speedway inside forcing the absence of
reabsorption,
And my thoughts,
so flippant to implore
if a man with a chartreuse neck tie
can see the long wet streaks
across the cherry plane.
He speaks,
a sequence of interrogatives
common to the bored walls
of serious conference,
evoking tone inflection
in the pattern of polite.
Darest I mention truth?
I am your whore;
infect me with smug integrity,
smack me with false prophet leadership,
just leave some crisp bills
on the nightstand, sugar.
Yet my voice models his wavelength,
relaying back the catchy tired language
of one hit wonders;
eyes brighten,
hands extend
from the man who owns a chartreuse tie.
Sigh.
Still,
complacency
awards a loaf of Wonder bread,
and a two bedroom lower.
UNSUPPORTED CODE
In haste I discover
with fingers quite fast
My words now uncover
some dreams of the past
When thoughts find me stating
and ink it does flow
I post; then sit waiting,
so little I know
As some stop by reading,
then leave with a grin
I find myself pleading
“Oh not this again”
A friend now relaying
corrections to make
My poems’ displaying
a stupid mistake
I open my writing
it’s then that I see
My tongue I am biting
“Damn, how can this be”
It seems in my rushing
to post a new ode
I find as I’m blushing
Unsupported code
I posted my good morning poem this morning and once again didn't check it afterward and managed to post it with a wrong symbol so "UNSUPPORTED CODE" started off the poem. I was notified of the error. Thanks so much Darren for the heads up
It's in the morning I feel you the most
fires burning, deeply seeded in my loins
striped down inhibition
relaying stories in foreign tongues
me showing a Fahrenheit desire
your Celsius riding ever higher
lovers at last
longing to make up lost time
but not moving too fast
time might have slipped
but we glide to the rythmn
of the crash of the sea
upon her wall
we're not pretenders here
we did fall, we did fail
but we rose, smelling sweet
kisses delivered mouth to cheek
lips pierced and sucked into bliss
holding on to the morning
as the heart beats awake
the wind rustles the curtains
signaling for a journey to begin
My soul I have given freely
Relaying upon threads sewn to my time
My life I’m trying to live honestly
Yet no Heavens belong for me to find
They weave like a sadden web
Stringing every ties known to memory
Hidden tears unknown be wept
Strung with earnest to a sadden melody
Had I remember to be strung?
To be carried beyond a carry in the world
My world yet left me hung
Yet were strings knotted never for twirl
An outer Heaven I come to seek
An inner Hell I’m brought forth to meet
Wounds I did not suffer to bleed
Yet... why do to Heavens I do still plead
And I fall beyond my own
Falling where light fails to shine
Yet... am I to find a home?
When a black heaven is to give its time
Foundation.
Does your Summer miss the snow?
A poem reflecting the persistent, almost seemingly never-ending, haunting nature of loss.
Exploring how bereavement can follow you—turning every place into a somewhere filled with old memories of someone special, whose absence still lingers.
Like Irish Sea Moss
The imagery of Summer missing snow represents grief in an eternal, kaleidoscope.
Relaying the sentiment that heartbreak can be an up and down internal season all oñ its own, discounting external context.
As life continues to spin as sadness slowly creeps in.
Title.
Bereavement.
(A lone voice whispers)
Stranded forever
Everywhere I seem to go
I now know heartbreak
Like Summer misses the snow
(C)
John Duffy
When i went to my Soup mail
I was in for a lovely surprise
It was a grown up called Forest?
His comments i think are cries
I don't understand his logic
It appears confused to me
Am i relaying to an Adult
Or a youngster, say aged three
I don't want to be so judgmental
Also not to despise
But to read comments by an adult
He should act his age, not his shoe size
Subject heading in his Soup mail
So long you'll have to zoom
REad my poem James Fraser Death in the Mens Bathroom!
Oh i forgot about his message
It read: bro....you need discipline
This 6' 2" Scottish Highlander
Not exactly jumping out of his skin.
" The clever use of changing the RE to REad threw it for me - pure class "
Oh! The generous buoyant breeze
You help the earth revolve with ease
Beaming the news of a flower that unfurls
And to outreach bees, insects and flies
Here and there, you just twirl, curl and whirl
Fetching facts of water levels of lakes
Traveling miles and crossing continents
You spread data to storks, ducks and crakes
Diffusing fragrance of the flowers
Transmitting aroma of the home food
Carrying enticing tunes of the bamboo
Disseminating whispers of the lovers
Relaying secrets of spectacular seasons
Oh! The generous buoyant breeze
You help the earth revolve with ease
I saw a look of hurt so primordial, the dust teared and cleared
Every wrinkle, every agony,
Every twinkle in his eye hopelessly wrought by words
He struggled with a bag of old books,
His white hair scraggly, his breathing heavy
I, with sorrow wrenching from my soul,
Sought his own, in a sad smile that he so feverishly caught
Moments passed, as the older man disappeared,
But I sat there, ready to speak to him if he should return
For such a catch in the eye
Cannot soon dim and die with chance
He returned swiftly,
“Excuse me, will you be here long?”
I said, “Sure. What is it?”
He looked into my eyes and smiled,
“Would you mind watching my books for just a bit?
My clarinet is in the building, I need to go fetch it from a friend.”
“Sure,” Said I. “No problem.”
He thanked me, setting the bag down near me
And walked with confidence to the building,
To retrieve his instrument
I pondered his life, the pain in his eyes,
And for a moment wondered how it might compare to mine
This old man, struggling with a massive bag of books,
An even greater weight pressing upon his practiced brain
A brain filled with the pure notes of a mechanism that soars
He returned almost joyously, thanking me once again,
Relaying to me his previous sufferings,
Unkind, uncouth words,
In his mind, sure and inerasable
“Have you ever been treated so ill you wished to die?
Have you ever felt that little?
Felt so powerless, and failing?
Surely I must be boring you. . .”
When his countenance calmed and I reassured him,
Offering my sympathetic ear,
And many a sensitive nod,
He asked my name before leaving forever
“Ah…do you know the song ‘Laura’?”
He hummed the tune and I beamed, nodding,
Remembering the haunting melody
It was as if he was anticipating that nod,
That he knew I recognized such a strange, haunting tune
By his happy, alighted smile
So when he went on his way,
With his heavy bag of books,
And his clarinet tucked safely in his black box,
Our pains sauntered on to less fortunate fellows
As I walk by the bubbling brook
fixated on intricate crannies and nooks
quaint voices encircle, relaying rhyme
in a plethora of rhythms, perfectly timed
Adonis blue butterflies flaunt their wings
messages ensue as four swallows swing
in between worlds, swept into a dream
as one finds a path up the sunlit stream
Kingfishers perched on the bared roots of
a tree skewer some fish for afternoon tea
an otter prepares a fresh banquet of cray
wind rustles the birch to faint calls of a jay
Wrens nesting in the hedgerows nibble on seed
Willow sheds her woe down by the water reeds
Damselflies rest upon a cast of white flowers
as rolling clouds breakout in freshest shower