Long Ruminants Poems
Long Ruminants Poems. Below are the most popular long Ruminants by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ruminants poems by poem length and keyword.
I can hear the voices calling out beneath as they plunge further into the deep, a large body of water swirling around them like quicksand falling out of the heaven and desperate voices of sorrows, crying out for help, but they sink deeper into the water shed until they reach the valley of the dead.
I stood at the mouth of the Precipice pacing around with my hands on my hip looking round at dead bodies washing away in the ocean, my heart reaches out to them but I could not do anything to save them.
Cars and vans buried in mud saw a sudden flood of water gushing down the stream washing away the Arabs dream. Everything that they own was washed away in seconds from the throne, house and land, man and van was swept out in the deep.
And those in the precipice below had nowhere to go, they clung to each other screaming and crying from the valley but there was no one to help and they need someone to tell the story of how they breathe the last breath, as the stung of death resonate from the deep.
I held on to my courage and hum a silent song as the last ruminants of death trod along, with the final words from the dying soul harmonize with the breeze. "I have seen the light give me something to nyam", and silence sinks slowly into the ground filtering death all around.
My heart could not bear it my body could not contain it, the stench of death muddied the water everywhere, opening up the fountain for disease in the land and on the shore.
The water split the road into two and creates a block between the west and you, there was no way to cross over to the other side, you have to create a bridge on which to abide.
The water had broken out of the dam swallowing the city houses and land, the cities were cut off from each other sending gushes of water up to the ninth floor, taking precious lives with them and leaving mud all over the floor.
But the screaming valleys stood still and the smell of death lingers on its shore.
Outward brain stem hummock
analogously, (asper bound
minuscule magnum opus)
figuratively paginated with drowned
atavistic animal instincts
roar back to life upon found
perceived or real threat adrenaline
splashes cerebral hemispheres
triggering body electric
to become alert as a bloodhound
countless millenniums ago
the flight or fight reaction apropos
when savage beasts
threatened tribe with bro
whizzing primitive creatures
some forced tweet crow
wing, thence railing, swooping,
trouncing dough
main housing small cluster of emo
ting primates (gabbling in primal
grunts and groans witnessing ruminants
scurrying to and fro
survival of the fittest danger field
thus by dint of inherent smarts didst grow
outwitting wily coyote, or other lion eyes, hoe
ping automatic saving grace tactics recalled,
when looming predator doth woof
and warp emergency arises,
when debacle fore stalled
for time against getting mauled
whereby each subsequent ruse
out foxing fierce-some, hungry non a mew
zing potential breakfast, lunch,
or dinner as the sorry loo
sir aye sic newton, sans
this non nonsense game of "Life",
which thru countless millenniums strategies grew
layered upon left and right cerebral hemispheres few
till hetty became diminished
as proper contra bands of bipedal hominids drew
upon accumulated storied history
learned from Bubba Zayda's
many times over motley (foolish) crew
squirreling modus operandi
wove (traversing eons)
corpus collosum hair
(more so nerve fiber weave
a microscopic whirled wide web linkedin
left and right fist size gray matter
coated with transparent integument
custom made swiftly tailored sleeve
ah...proving grounds,
when forebears of *****Sapiens
touch and go tagged on permanent leave
on par with imagining dragons easy to believe.
Shadow souls flying across the sea
Of my senses they knew, what a mockery,
How do I write the song says the dream?
Whereupon the wanderer falls
In the scribbled pines
Of a forest burnt
In the addled minds
of ruminants
Under the spell
Of prescription drugs
A waterfall falling long
Whispering into nothing
And how does a shadow sing along?
With the words planted
When the mind is gone
The cultured lie pearl
Calumny and drought
Don’t ask me
I don’t know what it means
I just write it down
Medicated monsters flee themselves
In fiery wagons chasing hope
When no earthly vehicle
Can help them now
And the darkness of the drones
The forest-flatteners blocking the sun
With gun-carriage storms
Of all fissile material
Spitting their fish scales
Into our faces
And who wrote the song?
Down by the deadpond
Now that Weyland’s work is done
Tantalite, tungsten, sin, tin and gold
Seem pretty small in your hand there’s a phone
But all over Africa mines are still smouldering
How do I write the song says the dream?
Lord help me I feel the world psyche waking
Whereupon the wanderer falls.
as wind slowly, silently, stirs dry grass
forest ruminants eye darkening skies
sniffing for the scents of Winter’s warning
watch the fading “V’s” - distant disguise.
once dappled fawns stand tall now tawny
alert to changes in the forest’s tone
urgency replaces Summer’s idyll
leafs red alert of warning wildly blown.
cricket violins fall coldly silent
the dragon and the butterflies called home
turtles abandon logs for mud bank nest
gnarled trees embrace the fate of stoic gnome.
burrowers and builders peer from retreats
as thinly spreads this crust of Winter’s bite
chasing the sap of life within its core
hoarfrost to tinge the soul in black and white.
chilled stealth of ice reclaims the rippled pond
swans beauty - fades to black - dots in the sky
hawks ride the frigid winds of Winter’s rise
I store my kayak paddle with a sigh.
John G. Lawless
©10/8/2018
I am the sun, I energize your day.
I speak expressly to the humid air;
'dry up for a day that is bright and fair.'
I command moisture to dry the lush hay
for non-ruminants to be well nourished.
I am ageless, and I am distinguished.
My golden rays have living things enriched,
my yellow rays induce the labourer's sleep,
having toiled so hard for his family's upkeep.
The flower smiles at my usual advances,
and with her fixed gaze, she makes no glances.
My loving rays speak with no utterances.
The day flourishes with my assistance,
as I serve from my celestial distance.
My service to you, none else can replicate.
Without me, life-form will from the earth vacate.
The verdant leaves
of the cherry trees
rustle as a wagon
loaded with corn
rides deeper into the wide ruts
of a rustic road,
hungry ruminants wallow
by a limpid lake;
cheerful kids wave
and wagtails warble
at my unexpected arrival...
suddenly my Dalmatian barks.
O jovial Autumn
incite my surprise,
and renew my decadent mood!
The grapevines rest
while giving off their fragrance,
and this weary steed
must rest in tranquility
to continue this journey...
before he pants-up grief;
and for mine and his sake,
let him get some sleep!
A sanguine sky
promises the loveliest sunset
ever seen by me
in this rustic Vermont landscape;
thrushes sing with me
to embellish my harmony,
not minding the crickets that
conspire in the hickories,
or the fluttering hawks
that return to their nests..
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The piano screams my name
No body knows my pain
Out on a stormy day
What else does your story say
As we exist
through a code of known morals
Who can strip
the back of a snake corralled
Pleasantly awaken common sense
and flaunt it plural
Ruminants
of an area less than rural
Drip-lets let you know something’s fallen
I wish but then a gain
A wish is an incomplete thought
A decision is contemplation completed
And reasoning
Is only an individuals desire defeated
The piano screams my name
No body knows my pain
Out on a stormy day
What else does your story say
I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe
But tomorrow
will definitely see you first my friend
Searching my pockets thin
Out on my last wind
The curse of we aborted men
Raped in anger a changeling to
An opinion voiced is nothing new
Losing my way
Last night I slept in the morning dew
A masque of reddened death
Prelude to a bubonic fever
A modern day swine flu
Flesh deadened to depths
Unbelievably I stood right behind you
The piano screams my name
No body knows my pain
Out on a stormy day
What else does your story say
"in my glass of cognac"
outward brain stem hummock
analogously, (asper bound
minuscule magnum opus)
figuratively paginated with drowned
atavistic animal instincts
roar back to life upon found
perceived or real threat adrenaline
splashes cerebral hemispheres
triggering body electric
to become alert as a blood hound
countless millenniums ago
the flight or fight reaction apropos
when savage beasts
threatened tribe with bro
whizzing primitive creatures some forced tweet crow
wing, thence railing, swooping,
trouncing dough
main housing small cluster of emo
ting primates (gabbling in primal
grunts and groans witnessing ruminants
scurrying to and fro
survival of the fittest danger field
thus by dint of inherent smarts didst grow
outwitting wily coyote, or other lion eyes, hoe
ping automatic saving grace tactics recalled,
when looming predator doth woof
and warp emergency arises,
when debacle fore stalled
for time against getting mauled
whereby each subsequent ruse
out foxing fierce-some, hungry non a mew
zing potential breakfast, lunch,
or dinner as the sorry loo
sir aye sic newt ton, sans this non nonsense game of "Life",
which thru countless millenniums strategies grew
layered upon left and right cerebral hemispheres few
till hetty became diminished
as con tra bands of bipedal hominids drew
upon accumulated storied history
learned from Bubba Zayda's
many times over motley crew
squirreling modus operandi
wove (traversing eons)
corpus collosum hair
(more so nerve fiber weave
a microscopic whirled wide web linkedin
left and right fist size gray matter
coated with transparent integument
custom made swiftly tailored sleeve
ah...proving grounds,
when forebears of *****Sapiens
touch and go tagged on permanent leave
on par with imagining dragons easy to believe.
Outside
My window pane
Rain falls
Days Undo
Time Itself
Sun light
Morning ends
Nights fall
Lastly
I give
Into You
Ruminants
I start to Forget them
Mirrors, Luggage
I’m leaving without you
Time sees what we cannot
My eyes lie open
Across your chest
with visions to blurry to see
Is this all that I can be
This illusion
Is all that I can see
It’s All that I can’t be
More than more
I remain unchanged
And you dear
Always stay the same
Downstairs
Too slowly
I chase
un-doubtly
My emptiness
Has filled you
Ghostly
I step closer
To what we shared
Sometimes
The oceans
And images
Call to me
Winding into
Treasures
Hidden
Beyond
your eyelids
Secrets are so rare
Behind my curtains
I’m open to all things
Until you sooth me
As your voice sings
All that I can hear
As eyes lie open
Across your chest
a visions to blurry to see
Is this all that I can be
This illusion
Is all that I can see
It’s All that I can’t be
Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud,
Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud,
Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand,
Golden frame of a sea cradled land.
Fishing village, atmospheric hub,
Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub,
Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall,
Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool.
Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge,
Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge,
Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill,
Buzzards soar and wise hares are still.
Tin mine engine house, towering stack,
Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back,
White clay peak, geometrical and sleek,
Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep.
Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn,
Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune,
Tor and beacon, barrow and mound,
You’re in God’s own country,
When you walk this ground.