Long Ross Poems
Long Ross Poems. Below are the most popular long Ross by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ross poems by poem length and keyword.
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job
"Intermission: Ad Infinitum Lux Vitae"
Intermission
I wait
You call
I have loved
I wait
Lux Vitae
I have loved
Through the Storm
Lux Vitae
I have loved, to love You more
Through the Storm
You call, Open Door
I have loved, to love You more
Ad Infinitum
You call, Open Door
I walk with You through the Storm
Ad Infinitum
My Love is always Yours
You walk with me through the Storm
The Waiting Room calls
Intermission
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
for "my" Georgia,
who is entirely her own person
The inspiration for my poem -
This "Pantoum" is about Birth, Life, Death. There are all sorts of "Waiting Rooms", in this Life and the next. Of course, this is my belief. The reader may interpret Birth, Life and Death distinctly separate from my belief.
Georgia, the 'True' inspiration for your name, below. x
"I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at - not copy it. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"I said to myself, I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me - shapes and ideas so near to me - so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn't occurred to me to put them down. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe"
"Marks on paper are free - free speech - press - pictures all go together I suppose. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"To create one's world in any of the arts takes courage. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"Anyone who doesn't feel the crosses simply doesn't get that country.”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
Artwork, Georgia Totto O'Keeffe (November 15, 1887 – March 6, 1986)
“Ram’s Head with Hollyhock”, 1935
https://www.georgiaokeeffe.net/ram-head-with-hollyhock.jsp
Trent Reznor/Atticus Ross
"Technically Missing"
https://youtu.be/EBaa0k1y57w
"Politics is a dirty business. If you are going to 'write' policy, fabrication is not advisable, make sure you have ALL the true facts in front of you and that TRUTH is delivered by whatever means necessary". Quote, Leanne Lovejoy-Burton to daughter, Georgia - April 2018.
Walk outside onto the scene,
pre-dawn gray, all is serene,
slivers of a morning bright,
on the pasture do alight.
October, but early snow,
came with night and winds that blow,
flakes strewn from a showerhead,
swirled while I slept in my bed.
But the leaves, they still remain,
looking like a frosted flame,
blazing orange, dusted white,
fringe the meadow in my sight.
Like a painting Bob Ross made,
nature’s precise tint and shade,
Autumn’s death or winters birth…
just mere heartbeats to the earth.
Barren times, but still sublime,
cold inklings of the divine,
tempted to stand here all day,
but I must drive, bills to pay.
And though this landscape looks great,
snow on leaves means lots of weight,
branches breaking, roads half-blocked,
slow drive for men on the clock.
We were all on a turquoise moped on Interstate 635.
Mr. P.U. Fancy Pants Panda of course, got to drive.
He is arrogant, and thus is always the boss.
This was stated firmly by my pal Ross
Ross cannot drive, he is way too nervous and tall.
His hooves also land on both pedals, no help at all.
Meerkat is hanging on the fender by his tippy toes.
Snowy owl is getting exhaust fumes up his delicate nose.
Wait! Someone said, doesn’t an owl have a beak?
This made panda angry, he had given no one permission to speak.
Quite a day on the road with the gang who escaped from Michigan.
If you call me up on the phone, I can tell you this whole story again.
In hushed whispers, Mariners told stories,
Of a octopus like cephalopod creature;
With a tentacled beak and jet thrust power,
A creature as long as a school bus.
Scientists dismissed all this as just myth,
But they did admit that there may be;
Giant creatures roaming the dark, deep oceans,
However in 2007 one was netted.
The New Zealand trawler San Aspiring,
Fishing in the Ross Sea of Antarctica;
Netted something, 34 feet long, 1000 pounds,
A giant monster, it was a colossal squid.
But more amazing was that this female,
Was considered a comparative midget;
Colossal Squids can grown to 46 feet long,
They are the largest creatures on Earth.
Having the biggest eyes of any other animal,
The size of basketballs with huge pupils;
Also, it is said that they are highly aggressive,
Even attacking predators like Sperm Whales.
Gouges and battle scars on whales, unexplained,
The gigantic female, in a lab somewhere, frozen.
______________________
August 21, 2015
Verse
For the contest, Giant Animals
Honorable Mention
Born on a spring cyclone from Kansas' stormy rain,
awoken now in low growl, slowly reversing.,
down a low ramp, like a movie star rehearsing,
at new shore in sunshine with an exotic name.
Just like a kid in love all over again..
learning her games in many a winding curve,
perhaps proof enough I haven't lost my nerve,
shyly look back at such a refined rear end.
Lola isn't very patient or forgiving,
one who oversteers her with attitude,
puts her in a dangerous sashaying mood..
to cut short a man's simple days in living.
Let me tell ya what's so precious,
she purrs, just like a kitten..
tear'g through each firm shift given,
in silky thrusting gear meshes.
Oh, it's a fact.., she's known other men's hands
hit such dizzying heights on their track,
though promising never to look back,
my careful repair strokes her will demands.
Safe from boredom all my loving hands touch,
ev'ry square inch of Monaco White body showing,
hot turbocharged exhaust pipes ready and glowing,
hearts pounding in high revving double clutch.
Lola thrives on top tier 91 octane's heady drink,
sipping imperial ounces at each injection,
she's never known any salad days in rejection,
smooth cylinder walls bathed in sweetest crude oil and zinc.
Have you guessed at her qualifying past?
heart like a wheel.., all alone in a class..
smart dressed in Kevlar reinforced fiberglas
Hethel's english dream finally mine at last.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets
And little man, little Lola wants you
Make up your mind to have
No regrets
Recline yourself, resign yourself,
you're through"
* Whatever Lola Wants by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross for the 1955 musical play Damn Yankees
She was a teen girl from Oklahoma
Of copper bronze skin with auburn-red hair
Such a pretty girl dreamed of marriage
But she had a job to do taking care of a newborn cousin
such a pretty girl Annie Bell
This was in the 1950's
While on break she was looking for a prince charming
she's the queen of the ball
such a pretty girl Annie Bell
She met a older man some nine years
A handsome guy ex-navy chef
Always wearing expensive tailor made suits
He was a handsome brute
From Mi zu
While at an lounge bar gathering
She dressed liken a movie star
Hand-held her cigarette like Lana Turner
They both look swell
This handsome veteran she met
Dated he courted her for two years
She thought he was swell
This girl named Annie Bell
This teen girl now turn woman
This man now proposes
Now they married as husband and wife
Such a life now everything's all well
a real life love story of Princess of Redbird Oklahoma
Annie Bell Ross now Mrs. Lee
This is her story her personal fairy tale
Of a teen girl now woman
Annie Bell
For contest: Fairy Tale
Sponsored by: Alexis Y.
My grandfather taught me an unusual way to catch fish.
I tried it out one night I went with mom who is a musician.
During the day, she gives well off kids, music lessons, piano, guitar, and so on.
Mom is versatile in the music realm, not only instrumental, but composes and sings.
At night she plays in a hula dance troupe known as an Halau (hah-LAU).
They perform at hotels for the tourist, one was Ross Martin from 'Wild, Wild, West', TV series of the 60's, who met personally with the halau, backstage--and an 8 year old me.
I did what was told me by grandpa.
I brought from the house a few bread in its plastic bag.
Where mom plays at night, there's a hotel bar, the hotel sits on the bayfront of Hilo.
Outside the lounge sits stacks of discarded hard liquor bottles that's not always completely empty.
I would pour whatever liquor into the plastic bag of bread, as it sops it up really fast.
I would break up the soaked liquor bread and toss into the bay that's a few feet away from the hotel.
I would have dad's big net with the long handle and wait a short while.
Soon, fish will float up on their sides, stiff and not dead.
I would scoop them up and put them in our Hinode Rice cloth bag.
As they are a variety of fish that would float up, I scooped only one that I like.
The rest would revive and swim away, whilst the caught ones would be slammed onto the ground until the bag stopped moving--better than a prolonged suffocation and or fried alive, which is the method since they are too small of a bother to chop.
We call them, Manini (MAH-knee-knee) which means small in Hawaiian.
They are really good eating fish, very oil enriched--great frying fish.
Silvery body with sparse black stripes going down their flat sides.
Night trips with mom produces a catch between 12 to 18 manini's.
We also have spaghetti, beef stew, curry stew, and I am not listing any Hawaiian food as they are too great a variety.
Date: 06/15/2019
Surrounded by my paintings around my desk,
Closest one I see the missile launch pad painting,
Under the dark Hawaiian Island skies,
Lighted palm tree and the streak of missile path,
Spent thirty years working there, relates to my heart.
Next, I watch a Bob Ross style painting,
A snow-capped cabin, land and all the trees,
The sky is crimson, with a hazy sun,
Its so serene, it invokes my tranquil thoughts.
Moving along, I am on the banks of a river in Bengal,
On one side, a deer stands looking at the water, afraid to drink,
A tiger stands growling on the other side of river,
My instructor wanted harmony, and suggested they should not be on the same side of river,
Next, a painting of our city manmade lake,
With the bald California mountains overlooking the lake,
The willow tree, oak tree, and a cherry tree, along the sidewalk,
Pair of ducks wading in water, seagulls resting little further away,
Seagulls and geese flying overhead, the scenery made my day.
Foundation.
We are all born to grieve for one day, someone we love, will have to leave.
Finding a means to cope, will hopefully give birth to hope
By eventually embracing our darkness, we can find some sort of peace.
The Kübler-Ross 5 stages of grief:
Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance.
Can't still believe it
Why
I'd do anything, take me
I'm staying in bed
I do miss them so, but at least I'll carry their memories with me
Everywhere I go
If you have been through grief, you probably will relate to the five stages
Hopefully, you are at the last stage but if not
The others are just another part of the healing process, and will help you turn their dark pages
Poem below:
Laid on the altar
Of Elizabeth Kübler-Ross
She finds hope in grief
(575)
(C) Copyright John Duffy