Long Rides Poems
Long Rides Poems. Below are the most popular long Rides by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rides poems by poem length and keyword.
Dedicated to one I respect, enjoy, fear for and pray for as he faces violence each day in a part of Africa that was once his peaceful, nature adorned idyllic home. I wish him to run, he won't. God Keep Ye, Jannie Breedt
Ocean-born wave rhythms rock their roll
just as motions my own soul does extol
since first we seascaped soul to soul.
From your African, violent, dust bowl
straight to my United States’ role,
joy surfs the tides making us whole.
Your expanse is constant inside my coral mind
as though our ebb and flow were cast entwined.
An ocean sees our coastlines combined.
Though our shared depths are confined,
our seawaters’ yang is surely aligned.
I sail my authentic towards your motion’s drift,
feel its sincere floatage dip down and high-lift.
Never do I rue an anchor of sea-worn shrift
turning shallow the depth of my sailed gift.
Our vibration rides the same sea of mapped calm.
You soothe my torrid zones as a salt-healing balm
might whip storms into the tranquility of a psalm.
Your grace and kindness of steady waves
fill my otherwise deep-sunken sea graves.
Bright life vests secure notes you sincerely toss afloat.
Our waters churn beyond human means of control -
they plunge and sweep as independently designed,
leaving us with merely sand’s feel to finger sift.
Yet my endless depths harbor no sinking qualm
for my intangible drownings, your tangible saves.
I am a better me with each beached, ocean note.
"The 50 Move Rule"
Thomas Crown
rolled his smile
around her frown
Romance blew a warm breath
over her pristine cowrie shell
Voodoo Mojo Bag
There,
just there,
an Ocean made a Blue move
In the Red
Life
Black Black White
White White Black
Read,
A story to tell
White White Black
Black Black White
The 50 Move Rule
Thomas Crown
rolled his smile
around her frown
Love
has no strategy
Chemistry, richter scale rated
The mind being not vacant
Each piece moved in the puzzle
towards Walter Mitty
Calamity Jane
rides like Godova
into the Windy City
Unannounced
Packing pieces
of a puzzle
Thomas Crown
rolls his smile
around her frown
White White Black
Black Black White
Romance
with sharp teeth
bites ...
The 50 Move Rule
Checkmates
Pieces on a playing board
Life
Alligned?
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“I Like It “/ Moby (Octave Edit)
https://youtu.be/q520gk_rmDE
"Butterfly" / Lloyd Cole
https://youtu.be/vf9odSxCyio
"I Like It" / Moby (Original, Slow Version)
https://youtu.be/TdXLNHWmurM
“Are you following me?" she asks, but doesn't meet my gaze.
"Yeah," I say.
"Why?"
I give her the only honest and true answer I have.
"You're where I want to be.”
("Leaving Paradise")
"I grabbed my book and opened it up.
I wanted to smell it.
Heck, I wanted to kiss it.
Yes, kiss it.
That's right, I am a book kisser.
Maybe that's kind of perverted or maybe it's just romantic and highly intelligent.”
“Love, like everything else in life, should be a discovery, an adventure, and like most adventures, you don’t know you’re having one until you’re right in the middle of it.”
(Brushstrokes of a Gadfly)
The 50 Move Rule
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fifty-move_rule
It was May Day and Beltane was the time
Druid Arwn with flowing mane his Grove did call
With upraised arms he did chant in ancient rime
The Sun God ascendeth, but the Solstice marketh his fall!
The 21 of Jun, Alban Hefin will be in the heavens
And crown him we will at his highest peak.
So go forth my orders of Incantations and covens
And hollyhock, and mandrake, and oaken mistletoe seek.
Cut down these herbs as Tanith rides on high
With sickle of gold as you mount on white bulls
Destined at Solstice to bleed and to die
At the moment holy Henge with Sol's light fulls
So gather we will on the 20th of Jun
At the dale of the Henge at the rise of the Moon
To the centre of the circle we'll go up the ramp
We'll set up a pentagram and there we will camp.
As the Heel bathes in glory with the rays of the sun
We'll offer our bulls to the Lord of the Day
Send up our chants and surely have fun
And prepare for Alban Arthan - Lord of the Fey.
~25 May 2016~
The children in the park
See the old, gray-haired woman
Every afternoon. They watch her.
She is always sitting in the rocking chair
On her porch, sometimes reading,
Sometimes knitting,
Sometimes just rocking, half asleep.
What they don’t know
Is that she is watching them, too.
How could they imagine that,
For a little while every afternoon
While they tumble and play,
The old woman they see is
Once again young and beautiful.
She is one of them.
She is there beside them, running
With long limber legs
To outdistance them all.
She tosses her long, blonde curls and
Teases the boys who chase her.
She walks arm in arm with the other girls,
Remembering,
Laughing at a private joke.
She plays a jump rope game
Or does handstands with ease.
When they ride their bicycles,
She rides with them, hair blowing,
Sweet-scented wind in her face.
For those few afternoon hours
She becomes the young girl
She remembers so well, no longer with
The pain in her hips and ankles,
Free from canes and walkers
And worries about her future,
Ready for whatever comes her way.
And, when she gets up, every afternoon,
To walk into the house, she smiles
And stands a little straighter
Even though she is using her cane.
October should have falling leaves
Instead of pelting flakes.
It seems like Mother Nature
Has been making some mistakes.
Perhaps she’s getting senile
And dementia’s taken hold,
So despite the date, she’s sending us
Some snow and ice and cold.
The hay rides all have been postponed,
The pumpkins rimed with frost;
And people who planned outdoor galas
Must feel double-crossed.
There’s nothing we can really do
If Mother Nature slips.
With any weather she doles out,
We have to come to grips.
And so today, I stayed inside
And watched the snowflakes fly;
When crazy rules come from above,
We might as well comply.
who holds the passion eyes who painted the blue skies who Embraces my soul who calls me son daughter ever so he who calls me so beautiful
Who rides this above my enemies who has sent me ever free who hung himself allowed himself to die on a tree he did this for me his grace sufficiently Mercies flea on to me as he has done me also beautiful
Who has kissed me gives me breath life it's self
Blessed
who holds the passion eyes who painted the blue skies who Embraces my soul who calls me son daughter ever so he who calls me so beautiful
11/27/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2023
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Famine comes upon black horse
fillin the gullet o’ Deaythe’s strife.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life
Power swings War’s blood red swuird
the weak an’ the old suffice.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Conquest raises mighty bow
crownin’ Kings with rare delight.
War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s just the price o’ life
on pale horse the banshee rides
binna matter what your fief.
In deayth we fertilize the field
Life is aw an’ Deaythe's real.
*In the style of Robert Burns
At the foot of the mountain lies a wide verdant plain
With rich flowing breasts tend its enchanting brethren
A cuddly care that nature does, in collaboration with men
Catered to those gallant souls, nurturing the best it can
Every morning, when sunshine unfolds its resounding grace
Charming horses in auspicious race, dock their tails, all in graze
Glorious creatures they are when viewed near and afar
Precious stone-like muzzles adorned, each shines like ritzy car
Glossy fur is prominent, from withers, poll to forelock crane
The sophisticated look they have while galloping in any range
When the sun grows brighter in the middle of the day
Cowboys with their hats and chaps shout, hurray!
They run to check their rides before they saddle with glee
Patting stifle, gaskin, hock down to fetlock ‘though they’re jerky
Thorough inspection of hoof, coronet and frog they do and peek
And see if shoes are fixed, they’re good luck charms, shown in kicks
Stallions or mares, palomino, topaz… horses in any color and kind
Riding like a roller-coaster on their withers to their croup is so fine!
How I wish I can go with those cowboys in their pony-trekking
I want to be their horsewoman as they’ll be all my prince charming.
Oct. 17, 2016 1.40pm
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Ninth Place
Contest: Horses
Judged: 10/30/2016
Sponsor: Poet Shadow Hamilton
M-iss not the summer blast thrill,
A-pril fourteenth Saturday;
L-et not the entire moment turn
I-nto dark, blue, and gray.
G-o to the summer blast thrill,
A-pril fifteenth sunny Sunday;
Y-ou know the two-day occasion
A-ims to brighten the skyway.
S-ingers at the summer blast thrill
U-se the melodious sound;
M-aking you feel comfortable,
M-illion mirth is truly found.
E-njoy the summer blast thrill, as you tour the fresh garden;
R-ainy season has passed by, flowers bloom beneath the heaven.
B-azaar and booths are open,
L-ife is relieved from chill;
A-im to experience the big rides,
S-avor the summer blast
T-hrill.
A brilliant moon casts its mellow glow,
O'er fields covered with glistening snow!
Skeins of geese fly on high silhouetted 'gainst the moon;
The scene is all set for a sleigh ride, so very opportune!
The sleigh has been shed of a years build-up of dust,
And its runners have been waxed, a requisite must!
Dashing Dan was harnessed with jingly bells of course;
For generations he's drawn the sleigh, this gentle and faithful horse!
Mom, Dad and the kids snuggle 'neath quilts warm and snug;
"Giddy up" says Dad and Dan leaps forward with a gentle tug!
They sing 'Jingle Bells' and other Yuletide tunes with joy;
Dad reminisces about sleigh rides with his Grandpa as a boy!
They sip mugs of warm cider and coffee to ward off the chill,
Hailing others with 'Merry Christmas', wishing them goodwill!
Arriving home and after Dan was stabled and the sleigh was stowed,
They sip cocoa nigh the hearth to warm up from the cold!
Precious memories were met this night for future family lore,
As they anticipate next year's moonlight sleigh ride once more.
Entry for Constance La France's "Writing Challenge - Write A Christmas Poem" Contest
25 November 2022