Long Runner Poems
Long Runner Poems. Below are the most popular long Runner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Runner poems by poem length and keyword.
IRL Olympic Gold
Beneath Olympic fire
On a track of red clay
Runner’s feet tangled – scene so dire
Lifelong dreams stumble – tumble to the track –
Honor outshines gold quest delayed
Hands reach down - lift higher
Dashed hopes transformed this day.
In the 800 meter race on August 1st Isiah Jewett was tripped by another runner as he was about to cross the finish line. Both went down. Instead of going off, Jewett offered the runner from Botswana his hand. They crossed the finish line together.
8-6-21
Contest: Julyme
Sponsor: William Kekaula
In the 2016 Olympic games
IRL - real life
Rhyme scheme: a-b-a-b-c-b-a-b
The Champion
Controlled by remote desires I trip the laurel fuse of longing ancestry
My Mom had been chosen to compete diving from the high platform of
Hitler’s mania for ‘Kraft’ ‘Freude’ living space terror raised arms and all in
guns blazing a misplaced childhood offered on the altar of manic delusion
Wreaths gathered dust on unmarked graves white crossed monuments
administered torches blazed parades marched lined the ‘Higher Faster
Longer’ ‘More Ideologically Corrupt’ abuse of innocent festival of youth
Replaced demounted sacred Mount Olympus for Auschwitz and Stalingrad
My mother was no Jesse Owens who blackened Nazi dreams of whiter than
white no ‘Black Consciousness Runner’ shoving gloves to the sky in post-fascist
Munich 1972 quite close to Dachau where Jews Sinti and Roma vanished
at the hand of Swastika’s psychopathology for denial distanced denied memory
A colour TV to watch remote from a distance was the closest she ever got to
her dream of honour and glory disgraced by politics assassinated like Israeli
athletes in a continuation and preview of fanatical devilish monsters high and
low jacking innocent sports for propaganda politics malignant ideas and ideals
In 1944 there were no Olympics titanic battles were scrambled instead in
General’s Admiral’s chessboards and tactical blood baths no dives into chlorine
and water just rotting gassed trenches exploding the dreams pawns in the Games
crushing to bone meal the Peace with their tanks and grenades fusing demise
1948 came to London awaking from ruins and rubble and the brain washed
German Olympians were banned from all sports had they not spread eagled
their passion prostituted their vigour for eugenics death Fuehrer and Fatherland
My mother tainted blemished in blood and in water a fallen hero on her sword
09th August
Written for Healing Peace and for the contest 'Olympic Mania'
__HAIKU SLAM__
~
~
((**HAIKU GYM**))
~Haiku press~
one sweaty work out
spot me, and count 5-7-5
dumbbells all around
~ Sweat Garden~
drench of human lawn
leotard planting between
dew drops under chin
~Listen To Your Heart~
Wink of a smile
Healthy news, swallow up blues
Kellogg's Raisin Bran
--------------------------------
((**SWAT TEAM**))
~10 commandments~
Haiku me and you
So much for the golden rule
Whatever you say
~Rhyme Zone~
Test your might tonight.
Gonna rhyme it with so much fun.
Like the mid day sun.
~Broken Tablet~
It's five seven five
I'm a haiku rule breaker
using four six four
~Big Deal~
LoL contest
Sweet pretty haiku sunrise
Not a, limerick
-----------------------------------
((**WILD WEST HAIKU**))
~Lone Ranger~
This is Texas man
Rain dries before it hits ground
What stupid cowboy
~Howdy Partner~
Memory of Texas
Take me beyond shores
Let's become best friends
~Avatar~
Cold cactus desert
Warm coyote blood all around
New Indian fur coat
~Monsoon~
raining arrowhead
where are all the buffaloes
pretty pink tepee
~Acme~
Road runner meep meep.
Stupid coyote needs fix.
I ate a baby
------------------------------------
by;p.d.
Lava thoughts stream from my internal computer.
Some days she rests with no gumption;
today a seething volcanic monstrosity.
Muse has kicked into overdrive; she will have her feast.
Over worked, I am drained like a marathon runner.
Quivering and shaking; muse belches dream schemes.
Too many to count the numbers; on and on she plunders.
Mind can’t stop the flashing phantasmagorical imagery.
Why does she deny my needs?
The brutal taskmaster blows her top.
Again and again I plead; she just will not cease.
Dreams rise and fall; I can only save one.
Oh how I long for sleep, when her rant is finally done.
A Vegetable Story
Broccoli, Spinach, yummy fresh Garden Peas,
Cabbages, Winter Greens, Cauliflower Trees.
Runner Beans and broad, Mange Tout so Francais,
Curly Kale, Crunchy Sprouts on a cold windy day.
Onions, Parsnips, Carrots and tall Welsh Leek,
King Edwards, Purple Turnip, ready next week.
Corn cut off the cob with sweet Barley Rice,
Mash up that Swede for a treat savour nice.
Tips of Asparagus are one acquired taste,
Into the soup, don’t let them go to waste.
Vegetable Squash with Butternut and Pumpkin,
Tearing Sour dough bread, ready for dunking.
Please don’t choke on a strange looking Arti’
Exclusively reserved for a Vegan style party.
Try some boiled Beet and a large slice of Yam,
Fennel is soporific, a bit like I am.
Parsley and Cress make a simple garnish,
Spring Onion and Celery, very Saladish.
Going to the wood, picking wild Mushroom,
Beware some are poison, Stomach-ache of doom.
Lots of choice for a Veggie style life,
No need for meat, no need of a knife.
Don’t want to preach, so my voice is on mute,
That’s all from the Veg, lets start on the Fruit.
Goodbye Europe
Driving along I saw at a distance what looked
like two dark shadows holding up a smaller wizen shadow,
and I thought without Africa, Europe would have been a more miserable place.
We stole their people from working in fields and factories
we took their minerals and gold and left them destitute.
Now they are coming here, and we offer them a tent,
If you are not a wall climber, a fast track runner or football
hero, we don`t want to know.
I the meantime, the population – white tribe- am dying out
We have reached the pinnacle of our evolution, the glass siling
has broken women prefer driving Mercedes cars and
men turn to each other for succour to be gay is the new normal.
We older and another race must take over our delimitations we are
dying out, we are a curious vanishing race in a sea of colour and strange manners. Unless Europe wakes up and produces own children
we need immigrants on a massive
scale, if not we become a historical footnote.
326.
The Curse of the Dying Sphinx
Welcome to Thebes, you daring traveler!
Because of your wisdom, I have lifted its cover!
Free now you can pass, free now you can enter!
Oh what an insult to the keeper of the gate?
To itself, to herself..it is/she is…full of hate!
What a shame? What a madness? What a miserable fate?!
How come that a wretched being like you surpass…
This riddle that for ages no sages encompass?!
What in your brain do you have to provoke such bad ass?!
Oh shame on my face for such a disgrace!
I am like a runner who lost in my own game of race!
Now the time has come to shatter myself like a flower vase!
As I fell into pieces from this glorious pedestal…
I curse your brain that's whimsical! I curse your eyes that are abnormal!
Embrace this Curse of the Dying Sphinx! Your brain & eyes are fatal!
Behold Oedipus! Witness how a small brain destroys the whole body!
Your brain!...Your odd, little brain…will now be the end of me!
Farewell, Enigma-Breaker! It hurts to see you breaking free!
-02/01/2015
(Dumarao)
*Fallen Myths Collection
It's Christmas season, the merriment season
The smell of a fresh season, blooming with love
Christ the reason for the season, a song we always sing
Singing joyously, with tune so high, rhymes so in tune
Fortune favor only the brave, no venture no success
All work without play, makes jack a dull boy
As we sang all day long, creating memories
Fun time, time to party, let's go party
Laughter is medicine, oneness is life source
As we sing aloud, on our way to the club to party
Parting until morning, creating lovely memories
With the love of my life, a love so beautiful just
like a flower; her love is tender, To her wishes
Surrender, surrounded by her love
Come over to my corner, my lover as we sit down
She said to me... That's where I wanna be forever
Always at your corner my lover, without another
From sore to the very middle of the seas, I abide
Never leaving your corner, even when I am a runner
I am a disco dancer, dash dash dash, as the DJ plays
Lovely dancing steps, my baby is so amazing
Pop pop pop, a bottle of Champaign in the air
Sensational loving, slow wine that; my baby moves
As she wine to the beat, with a glass of wine
Slow and steady she smoothly wine, very fast wine
Fun fun fun, oh oh oh party hard the Dj keeps banging it
Cosmos’s Scumbag of the Week Award,
For the first scumbag,
Of the week award
We had two worthy contenders.
The runner up is
Is the congressional representative,
Who felt he would send out
A friendly message
Of peace and goodwill
During the Christmas season,
He had his whole family
Standing by a Christmas tree
Carrying military assault weapons
With the caption,
“Santa, please send more amo”.
Santa should send the family
A note
": For your display of Christmas naughtiness,
I am donating ten thousand dollars
from your bank account,
In your name for each victim
Of gun violence this year,
200 thousand dollars
Thank you for your generous donation,"
The Republican congressional
representative from Kentucky
Did not apologize for the lame
Extremely tasteless and offensive
Not even saying
That it was just a lame
An attempt at a joke.
Tweeting that he had stirred up
A hornets' nest
But it was good
To see the leftist so upset
And he would do it again
Saw nothing wrong with it.
Yet another Christian
Who shows his adherence
To Christian values,
By violating everything,
Christ stood for.
Not doing what Jesus
Would have done.
And did it just
Before Christmas
right after a horrific
shocking shooting
at a school.
Until next time,
When we will award
Another scumbag
Of the week award.
Not an audible sound but an attention getter nonetheless
An inspiration, an impression, a message, a voice of sorts
It came out of nowhere, from somewhere, from a special place
It entered my ears, my mind, my spirit, the corridors of my heart
Now would be a good time for answers because all I have are questions
Was I to be a recepticle, a storage unit, a temporary holding place?
Was it to me, for me, about me, or to, for, and about someone else?
Three words were emphatically deposited into my sensory system, and
Lest I busy myself and allow them to be forgotten, I quickly recorded them.
"It's not over" were the three potent words that arrested and captured me.
It was as if a little birdie came to lite on the side mirror of my vehicle as I was
Sitting in wait for my wife. It was as if I asked the little birdie for the meaning
of the three words he delivered to me, and his reply was, "Sorry,
that's all I've got" and flew away.
My mind then went to the baseball World Series of 1988.
The score is 4 to 3 in favor of visiting team; facing the best "closer" in baseball,the home team is at bat with two outs and runner on second in the Bottom of the ninth. It's all but over, but it's not over. Batter, who can barely
Run, hits home run. Home team wins 5 to 4. Now It's Over!