Long Resort Poems
Long Resort Poems. Below are the most popular long Resort by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resort poems by poem length and keyword.
Almost every tree has been cut down,
a resort for the gamblers is being built;
elders and fortune seekers will frequent it often,
say farewell to those quiet walks into the woods,
I've seen the last tree tumble under electric saws;
nobody has noticed it except me being distraught.
Now after school, we take long strolls in the sunflower fields
they are taller than us, it's the ideal place to hide and kiss;
The scented breeze turns into the wind and starts to hiss,
and naked like cherubs, we learn how to share intimate joys,
but that secret hideout won't last long until someone discovers us:
aren't two young lovers entitled to express their amorous emotions?
Then we go home as the dusk paints the clouds in bright pink,
but shadows cast fear on our path and rushing we fright;
by that time, our parents worry and wait for us with stern faces;
dad runs to meet us and warns us that mom is upset;
Linda and I start to shake, her tears land between two stones:
and if a flower could grow, it would surely be a shamrock!
Those secretive walks into the sunflower' fields
gave us the freedom to escape from all and find romance,
it inspired the purest love in tender teens;
we weren't adults and committed no sin in the face of innocence!
We miss striding across the paths flanked by cherry and apple trees,
so pretty were their flowers blooming and smelling in early March...
they are no longer there, they were cut down to build a horse ranch!
Every time America rules against Israel disaster has struck
And by occurring every single time this is not just dumb luck
In "91" when against Israel as in land for peace G. W. Bush would resort
The largest ever reported Atlantic waves crashed into his home in Kennebunkport
Then back in "92" again trying but now back in Washington D.C.
The worst U.S. disaster ever Hurricane Andrew caused millions to flee
In "94" Clinton was meeting Assad(Syria) in again trying to make Israel break
Within 24 hours the second worst U.S. disaster a major Southern Cal 6.9 quake
Remember "99" in D.C. Clinton and Arafat were to declare a Muslim state
Well a 315 mph super tornado in the Midwest would make that declaration wait
Also in "99" when fifteen West Bank Israeli's residents were forcibly evicted
Within 24 hours the fifth largest 7.1 quake shaking the Mid West was depicted
On 9/11 do you know what our U.N. Ambassador had planned for 11a.m. that day
To present the final proposal of a Palestinian State as Israel We again tried to betray
These are but a few of the hundreds of examples in what the continual U.S. anti Israeli policy has sought
Just in "Obama Pledges Declaration Of Palestinian State In 2014" ...what now shall be wrought
Here at our rooftop, collegiate, ‘resort of the mind,’
an early heatwave has struck - we’ve been advised.
Like we needed it. It’s 94°f and climbing - we’re not insensitive.
We’re aware that the sun is bright and the air is crisp and hot.
It was Friday morning, until the sun pointed to noon.
Nothing’s going to stop the summer swelter except thunder storms
- which are on their way - we’ve been advised.
A seasonable tempest is being piped-up from the sea.
Like we needed it. We can see the far horizon’s shadowed billows
and curtains of rain - we feel the changing wind.
But we have every reason to be cheery, forewarned as we are,
here at the pool, in the still needed shade, armed with margaritas.
The weather may change, the season alter, but we will, unaltered, remain.
We seem to have captured a moment of buz. People are swinging-by,
dropping-in, bringing drinks and party snacks then lurking by the pool.
Fridays are 'sui generis'—magical—because they play tricks with time.
Dreary weekday landscapes seem to transform, as the old week wanes
and ‘the pert and nimble spirit of mirth awakens.’
(A purposeful Shakespeare misquote).
.
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Songs for this:
Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt
Heatwave by Bronski Beat
Heat wave - Bing Crosby
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I have a (FaceTime) Med School interview with John’s Hopkins on Monday!!
I'm duper nervous.
FLUNG
against the drab ashen phonon sky
WEIGHTED
with the ghostly iron clad jaws
of bitter winter's grip
BITING
the feather-flared Doves
gravid with
FATIGUE
in the ill-laden onerous air
The rough coated dog
with ice-tipped ears
COLLAPSED
in a ravine of surrender
to the corridor of street gutters
SEEKING
shelter from the toilsome icy cold, he
WALLOWS
as a fugitive of neglect
of his chosen demise
In this empire city
a sovereign shrine to humankind
VESPERS
of frozen conflict
RISE UP
from its bowels like sweat
LEECHING
from otherworldly gargoyles
stone watchmen
SEALED
with mortar
high atop the spires that define
FORTUNE
at its utmost cost
Beneath these voiceless
STEEPLES
of holy crosses
PLAGUED
with frozen muted light
DRIFTING
through histories
STRIFE
for equality
now a mere picture of its
FAILURE
Heavily cloaked faceless people
TRUDGED
like blind phantom transients
SLOWLY
moving forward
through half-stacked drifts of dirty snow
as they
VEERED
further away from discontent
steadfast in the apathy
The grimy conspicUous yellow taxi
BEDRAGGLED
on its mucky, viscous boulevard
STRAINED
and bellowed
as a labored oxen
TRANSPORTING
the few to a suitable destination while
DESPERATE
surreal sirens
from a distant byway were
BLARING
like a young animal caught in a trap
ECHOED
and purged from the
back alley resort of homeless, despondent souls
HIDING
from the winter
LAYING
like pale-blue corpses
NUMBING
their pain with cheap wine
INTERRED
in their obscure tombs
of battered garbage bins
SHELTERING
their helplessness in this
SQUALOR
of ignorance and sadness
As i stood in the moment
DISPLACED
in this cold and wounded reality
my icebound paralytic soul
SHUDDERED
with hurt
WAITING
for the sun
Rewrite from "A Cold Day"
6-14-20
Brian's select H, any form, any theme
sponsored by Brian Strand
When the world moves on
and bulldozers crowd the scene
to cleanse the shattered land
with schemes of resort towers.
As the broken stone and steel
is smoothed from our sight
who will search for what is left
all those buried in their homes.
Among rags and concrete dust
rubble tombs above the dead
so small are infant’s bones
easily missed or left behind.
Many workers need the pay
unconcerned by death and war
do they stop and gag to find
a child's hand beneath their tools.
The heavy work will be done
their schedules must be kept
foundations poured, they leave
and another team flies in.
poems this mine here else often lists
economical text much inferred
few words fewer articles prepositions conjunctions sometimes needed
rhymes or not
short but slowing fast world trick make think
visual poems stolen cummings
is new question un marked re able
s pa
ce s
runonswhereeveryfit together
i don't know how you know
it's yours now
maybe makes much sense war
98% genocide
rev wright was right
possible not since rexulti
kill bear with ukraine cannon fodder
so iran can't stop merrikkael turning gaza
gehenna turning resort luxury hotels casinos
offshore oil rigs election want blame drumpf
but have zero credibility ever after praising president credit cards and truancy warden
go ahead watch strait hormuz raise inflation
like when merrika blew nordstream blame other monster
Hop onboard overthinkers
A warm Welcome aboard the overthinker to all our guests,
Especially Mr insomnia, and Mrs overthinker, both frequent flyers and our VIP guests
I'll be your minds captain for this flight, through awake all damn night,
And then on to good mornings beaming bright resort in daylight,
We have no nap-overs or drifting-offs scheduled this is a long-ass-haul, direct flight,
Emergency exits are located in the right and left ear, emergency lights,
Are located along the optic nerve in case of loss of power,
We can also deploy an emergency slide down the nostrils should we encounter,
An emergency landing over the cerebrospinal sea,
Otherwise please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy tormenting this mind with me,
Dear passengers this is your captain speaking,
we are experiencing some frustration turbulence,
And some drowsiness daydreaming,
this is Likely to continue until 4am so please remain seated,
As our head is hitting head on, stormy pillow clouds, and alas
A tossing and turning tornado has formed in our flight path,
Forcing us to go around the temporal lobe which will mean a delay to our arrival,
Passengers you can now lift up your eyelids once the kettles foggy fog,
Has cleared you'll be able to see the sacred sea of coffee,
And as we loop around the kitchen island there shines a good mornings sunrise,
Passengers we have arrived at our destination, good morning,
Upon the irises horizon is the sunrise dawning,
Here the local time is 5am and the current temperature is about 36 degrees,
Welcome to our new guests and a warm welcome back to our 2 VIPs,
We hope you enjoy your stay here at the daytime resort,
Oh don't forget to checkout our duty free thoughts
On your way out, I've been your mind's captain
Remember time flies when you're having fun aboard this mental contraption
So hop aboard this mind if you are to an overthinker,
Doing a crossword puzzle, to be frank,
One fulfilling task of filling the blank.
It perks up the brain testing my IQ,
Doubting the depth of what I thought I knew.
It virtually takes me 'round the globe
As I fret frantically, poke and probe.
With trendy themed ones I feel like a fool;
What was I doing all those years at school?!
Some words, in the line of my expertise,
Restoring my self esteem back at ease.
Some - at the tip of my tongue - circulate,
While stubborn letters don't cooperate.
Some tough queries raise my eyebrows instead -
I turn to the last resort, internet.
I've never given up in other words,
Most meticulous among crossword nerds.
Google here and there, the word search is done,
Feeling great! Less puzzled and crossed, no pun.
February 2, 2023
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the virgin snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
I start off being optimistic
With my big saucepan
Only as a last resort will I ever
Eat soup from a can.
I assemble all the ingredients
From a list I’ve not written down
Caremelise the onions.
Until they’re nice and brown.
Slice up some items
Dice all the rest
Cut the mushroom small
I think that’s best.
I slow cooked a Ham to
Provide a liquid base
Carefully and slowly
I stir this into place.
I crumble in a cube, flavour
Depending on what I’ve got
Bring it slowly to the boil and
Keep it simmer hot.
I use a hand held blender
To get rid of all the lumps
Get it smooth and even
Get rid of all the clumps.
I taste it in anticipation.
Always a potential waste
It’s hot smooth and digestible
But has such a bland taste.
indeterminate and indefinable
And no matter how I’ve tried
The supposed soup’s variety
Just can’t be identified
So it’s down to my reviver
I alway need to use to fix it
Worcester, Soy, and Balsamic,
And then I liberally mic it.
Sling in some lazy garlic
Just for good measure
Amazingly these Ingredients
Just add to the palate’s pleasure
It’s a hotchpotch of flavours
With a lot of spicy heat
Not the sort of thing a gourmet
Would willingly choose to eat
But we consume every last drop
We just can’t stand any waste
And hope springs eternal one day
It will conform to conventional taste.