Long Roiling Poems
Long Roiling Poems. Below are the most popular long Roiling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roiling poems by poem length and keyword.
For nigh on a hundred-fifty years it has graced the rugged shore of Maine!
Its welcoming beacon guiding sea-faring souls who sail the mighty main!
It has weathered untold fearsome storms of gale, snow, sleet and rain;
A faithful, stalwart sentry defying such nuisances, guarding its vast domain!
Old Captain Blair, its keeper, knows all too well the perils of the sea,
For he captained majestic sailing ships for many decades, you see.
He wearily climbs the circular stair to light the candles at close of day,
And with practiced eye, scans the roiling sea to ascertain that all is okay.
Alas, one dark and stormy night the US Frigate Arcturus met her fate!
A blinding fog and raging seas doomed the Arcturus on that fateful date!
The beam of the lighthouse could not be seen! There was naught to do!
The ship was dashed upon unforgiving shoals drowning her valiant crew!
The old lighthouse still guards that stretch of sea to this very day.
Modern lamps now cast their beam while Captain Blair sleeps 'neath the clay!
Niagara Falls
Aboard the Maid of the Mist, drenched from the spray,
Approaching Niagara Falls, I gaze in awe
At this wondrous sight of the renowned cataract,
Cascading fervently over the precipice
And violently crashing down upon the rocks
In a roiling boil is mesmerizing to see.
And behold! Out of the mist a rainbow appears,
Arching a span over the turbulent waters
From where thunderous roars are heard and eddies swirl
As if the heavens opened: “The Rapture is here!”
With angels descending to carry Christians home.
And I am small amongst giants (walking in the world
Defenceless against nature’s challenging forces),
Who will read “Insignificant” etched in my headstone.
Unlike those who think their works will last forever,
I’m like Niagara, trickling into the future.
Around this war-scarred earth, American heroes lie asleep,
Attesting that the cost of freedom does not come cheap.
Etched upon simple marble stones for all eternity,
Are the names of those who belong to a very special fraternity.
Tho' they came from diverse backgrounds, they bonded as one,
Forming a band of brothers and sisters to see the battle won.
Of all races, cultures and divergent religious creeds,
They set aside such differences to fulfill their nation's needs.
They cared not that in the heat of battle a Hebrew was at their side,
Or that a Catholic or Muslim tenderly embraced them as they died.
They forsook all such prejudices and truly understood,
That love transcends all else to create true brotherhood!
Afro-Americans and Caucasians lie side by side in sacred graves.
Asian and Mexican heroes rest beneath the roiling waves.
They sacrificed all upon the Altar of Honor defending liberty,
Ensuring that this land would remain free to foster diversity!
Upon each stone a young hero's bio is briefly sketched.
Alas, space does not permit his aspirations to be etched.
If space allowed, no doubt his earnest prayer would be:
"No more war! Follow the Master's Golden Rule is my plea!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Music Looks Like
A thunderstorm rolling
in from the west.
Jagged flashes of lightning
from dark roiling clouds
A quiet stream meandering
through a wooded glen.
Bubbling and gurgling as it
gently flows to the sea.
A brilliant art work with
splashes of red, green, blue.
An improv painting open to
one’s interpretation.
A crowded street full of people
of all shapes, sizes and colors.
Some hurrying, some not but
all seem to have a purpose.
A dark sky, with stars flickering
and moon shining.
A tilted head taking in the grand
scheme of the universe.
A silent snowy day when
nothing stirs.
A mournful howl drifts on the wind
a note of aloneness.
Music is not just sound, it also
stimulates us to see
more than we can imagine.
January 17th, 2020, a moost memorable outing at Collegeville Diner
A hardy acknowledgement yessiree
to the blessed sister Amelie worthy
of such beloved, devoted,
feted husband Rich truly
bestowed predicated upon
random chain of events
i.e., accidental, biological,
and genealogical happenstance prithee
applauding, apprising, and appraising key
kith and kin flavoring, enlightening,
and charming every
life ye and said spouse...
chance circumstance doth avail
your lucky charms to recipients receive detail
impossible mission to annotate here,
nonetheless with gusto courtesy
gratitude yours truly does exhale
regarding unconditional loving
creatures great and small
unbridled zeal without fail
truevalue analogous, yet exceeding
fine spun gold woolworth paltry holy grail,
nor can infinite wordsworth express hale
low, and brotherly love,
(equals at the least $20.00)
an introspective male
i.e. me, whose recent keen awareness
of vital specialness doth prevail
when a little boy quivering
scared as baby quail
his older sister genuinely
ranked high on importance scale
emotionally caring despite many travail
experienced by prodigal son
of Boyce and Harriet,
who frequently if not always did veil
steaming, roiling, quaking...
blubbering like a whale
Ahab oft times admit floundering chick
hen daring to venture metaphorical
unfamiliar muddy waters
unlike legendary Moby Dick
thrashing restless legs vainly kick
starting how to live think
lost at figurative sea
with nary an iota
abandoning ship lick
kitty split never trying
to overcome self doubt
when chased, teased and easily
trounced by bullies quick
as greased lightning
to cower on all fours
calling out for Ranger Rick
(or other unsung hero),
whose highlighted schtick
nowhere in sight, thus I got treated
analogous as some cheap trick
praying for salvation,
ye thence fended off beastie boys
(poetic liberty I take)
as veritable hooligans
threatened with wick
cud lee to thrash hide of
Matthew Scott imposing arbitrary
eminent domain despite
supposedly safe sanctified bailiwick.
Under the seamless sapphire dome overturned,
sprinkling the sparkle of my resplendent sky,
my mind morphs momentarily
into an ornate expanse of a blooming garden.
I feel it sculpted out with the cadenced contours
of the cheerfully cascading enthralled essence,
flowing through the aura of blossoming radiance
in the inspired current of earnest ardent.
Harbored happily in the sensuous shore
of the boundless sea of my beguiled life,
a polished pebble I relentlessly roll animated
in the timeless tide and ebb of time.
I am caressed by the successive surge
of the incessant waves of engrossing ecstasy,
spreading on me the lattice of adornment,
ornamented by the pristine pearls of rapture.
Spellbound by the stellar show in the sky of being,
my heart pulsates with the rhythm of joy,
as I sail in the sea of reflective consciousness
toward the serene sanctum of the soul.
When the dark cloud of gloom drifts
over my mindscape, the sad shadows configure
the painful pattern of roiling turmoil,
I find the leitmotif of heavenly love a part of me.
A pensive pilgrim I’m lost wandering within me,
get by God’s benevolence the adored bearing
to see my reflection in the blessed mirror of bliss,
bestowed from the cornucopia of His divine grace.
I know a lady who is
really and I mean really,
(because she meant 'really')
really (because she said 'really')
"attempting not to give in to hatred"
and so I remind, that the hatred is not
an out-there thing, it isn't rain
or the coming cold, it isn't the
acorn clitter-clatter dropping
out over there on the patio
The hatred, if such a thing there be,
lives in you, unfed and forgot.
And you can't give in to yourself.
Giving in is to another, to something outside.
And so, take heart and be reminded
that the starved self doesn't wield power
over you, it cannot for it is you; a part of you.
She says there were "waves of rage"
roiling through her. But again, if I might
remind. A wave is a quality of other things.
It isn't its own thing, per se. It is a pattern,
a way some many, many other things behave.
And so the wave, too is not in you.
The many, many things are in you; they are you
but the pattern is no more extant than
a song stuck in your head.
She said she's packed a "bug out bag"
and I would like to say here just one more thing
that yes, I agree. Well, sorta yes.
If what you mean is to pack a bag, a picnic,
a pair of birdwatching spectacles, a bottle of
mid-price wine, some fruit, and a sketchpad
and go out, and be with the bugs, be on that patio,
watch those out-there waves.
Bug Out Bag, indeed. :)
Step outside.
the waves
the patio
the acorn
the birds
the wine (I presume)
the air
the waves
come on outside...
it's nice out there
outside yourself
-ShhDragon
(for Julie Williams.)
Soul Speak 8-28-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soul Speak
In a conversation with darkness,
Haunted
By whispered ghostly remnants of hope,
Exaggerated I only sees Ego
In a cherval glass broken
When grace seeps through cracks of pride
In blinding rays,
The unstoppable I Am
Roiling
With the tongue of the whirlwind.
In the vanishing point of truth,
My soul
Cowers,
Infertile as shards of a mirror
Mute as cracked reflections,
Then bows
To the beauty of no other,
Christened in testament,
The heartbeat of gospel grace,
Relentless
As incoming tides.
Diving into waves of mercy
My soul tastes the sweet confection
Of the Word,
Eternal ambrosia – everlasting manna –
Sing-speaking elocutions
Of I Am.
Tidal Waves
Brackish debris filled surf retreats
depositing into hard sand graves
pictures stolen from post cards
Shards of a city strewn disjointedly
still ticking clocks idled in the moment
streets awash in decorative disarray
liquid mud roiling through the streets
ravenous pain stalking its victims
cold shock of sunshine’s failure
hands clutching grabbing
carried on the crust of fear
waving in silent farewell
luxury and comfort crushed
wild furor of seismic waves
expending tectonic energy
John G. Lawless
5/12/2015
submitted to - Show but Don’t Tell – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Thomas Martin
As I entered the garden the scents enticed
rampant rose blossom the arches fenced.
Cascading aromatic blossoms greeting me
amidst the climbers were the sweet pea.
In the centre stood the patio so glamorous
sparkling bubbles of champagne so amorous.
Tickling the throat buds saturated with scent
from the tumbling blossoms as they descent.
Blood stream and breath full of roiling bubbles
and past swish the gentry parading in couples.
Raise your glasses in a toast as friends are wed
laughing, knowing they will all too soon be in bed.
Ah what a perfect day in this romantic garden
bubbles and blossoms tumbling as skies darken
Blossoms and bubbles never somniferous
mixed together they are becoming toxiferous.
written 03/25/2015
contest Blossom and Bubbles