Long Runners Poems
Long Runners Poems. Below are the most popular long Runners by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Runners poems by poem length and keyword.
My identical twin and I were a novelty.
In kindergarten our classmates carried us around.
Until we began to demand it.
We have the same hair, face, body, skin, nose, and hands.
I bet if you looked at our palms, they would be identical.
We have the same braying excited joyful witch-like laugh.
We have no political or religious ideas that resemble each other
But we do love each other
My sister sent me a photo of us as flower girls at our aunt’s wedding.
It was a reminder of the good old days when no one could control me.
They let me stand by the men for only one reason.
They were the fastest runners.
Form:
The usual guide posts have become unreadable,
Their stony font occluded as in an ancient riddle;
Glyphs without the Greek.
The road is marked one way, no returning traffic,
Its service islands marked - MRI, CT, CAT - all graphic;
Ultrasound without the music.
People speak in the language of probabilities,
Yes, no ,do not appear in a lexicon of uncertainties;
Welcome to Cancerland.
Cancerland is an archipelago of tests, and immutable
Results, its residents adrift in the intervals and vulnerable;
Runners between bases.
A chemical war zone, Cancerland employs its foremost
Weapons to kill the Invaders, and the Invaded - almost.
"A village destroyed to save it."
There is no exit visa for Cancerland, always the next test,
For surveillance of recurrence in the never ending contest;
Life lived in the intervals.
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
the more you shove your tongue
down the swallowed route
the more you'll be wrung
and suffering breath for the mute.
If I didn't have an Offence- O-meter
I would be happier,
but I would also be accosted.
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
Crawling to walking
Strengthens the caulking
on the runners stalking,
and zip zip zips
the tips
of your toes to the ground.
Who'll make the sound
of the morbid when you're done?
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
and the weight of existence
is a reminiscence
of what you missed,
whilst everyone else kissed
the hate, the love, the livid,
the missed, the depressed, the rigid,
everyone is tangled
and together we are a bit mangled
but all as one,
is one for all.
And without you we'll eventually fall.
Patience is a virtue,
and wildness too,
and so we live privileged and restricted,
and we wait for the wake
of all our dreams come true,
but this life of waiting is a life I'll never of knew.
Take a picture and pass it on,
circle the differences until you're done,
and when you're fed up of waiting
in your tower of political correctness
of purification failure
of nothing but age,
turn to the mirror and see the lines you grew
without the rain having ever fallen on their cracks you never drew.
For the first time,
I feel that life’s treating me right
Everyone’s talkin’ amongst themselves…
I’m sick ‘n tired of wastin’ time
I need to…train myself to become successful –
Starting tonight.
My life has its ups ‘n downs…
How can I balance myself again?
How can I be more productive this week?
How much time does it take to make my life valuable?
Every now and then,
I feel that there’s no way out of the cage
Everyone’s bringin’ up past recollections
I’m willin’ to fight the good fight… but I feel like garbage…
My faith towards Him slowly decays away…
How can I rebuild my strength again?
How can I reassure myself that I’m stronger than I realize?
How much time does it take to accomplish all of my dreams?
Every so often,
I feel that my family doesn’t love me
Do they still cherish me like hidden treasure?
Do they still love me beyond measure?
Everyone’s tellin’ me that I did a great job on my solo
I don’t believe them entirely…but at least I got the audience’s attention
My future is bright like the sun…
How can I make my dreams a reality?
Does God know the answer?
How much time does it take to taste a sprinkle of glory?
For the last time,
I feel the need to reach the finish line
Everyone’s proud of me for trying my best
And running with all of my effort
I’m willin’ to encourage myself to pass the test…
Despite my struggles, I’m doing fine
My courage increases by the minute…
I outrun the competitive runners and I’m barely passing the test
My cup is half full – I’m extremely grateful
For the first time,
I feel that God has answered my prayers –
LIFE IS SO. . . . WONDERFUL!
Though joyousness impaled,
albeit skewered over poker hot coals
courtesy roaring fiery
molten psychological magma
kindling sparks incinerate
nonetheless inchoate coalescence
asserts, damned feeble endeavor
fostering, glomming, harking
futile hellbent fixation manifests
imperceptible yearning inclination
atavistic aspiration toward archangel
fleetingly overrides pathos
prevalent within pathetic psyche
regarding mental health
linkedin to mein kampf
oft times erratically spiraling
courtesy grievous gravitational heaviness
simultaneously tripping hair trigger
well targeted landmines cratering
impacting cerebral spheres
out of the blue er...
rather fifty plus shades of gray
egregiously, demonically, catastrophically
blasting aching dormant sentimentality
good times with mine
then adoring little girls
sentimentality mythologized
instantaneously vaporized
i.e. hotmail kamikaze outlaws
indistinguishable from in laws
deep seated bombardiers
devastatingly explode
housed deeply within
subterranean nooks and crannies
loosed blade runners
likened figurative windmills spin
madly maxed out
ache'n throb exhausts me
frenzied furious fitbits,
while archenemies incessantly lob
hand grenades pepper spray
senselessly, shamelessly, spectacularly
strafing third eye blind
quickly, nee instantaneously pulverize
incinerating insight into bajillion little pieces
also vaporizing sanity
into smithereens
futile writing relief,
a weathered vane effort
undermined attempts
to accrue spiritual succor
analogous to volcanic bombs
raining nsync with deadly earthquake
forlorn hope for salvation nil!
For half an hour Dix had rode true
when the canyon opened up wider.
In front of him five stubbly men
sat around a roaring fire.
The leader Dixon recognized,
as his sifted through Santa’s sack.
He was an outlaw known far and wide
by the name of Randsome Mack.
Their eyes fastened upon him
when he and his horse rode into sight,
every one of the men had guns,
they all looked ready for a fight.
Dixon looked up to the skies,
but he could not see a sleigh.
He had left plenty of bits of scarf,
had Santa somehow lost his way?
He swallowed deep as Randsome rose,
and glared deep with hateful eyes.
“It seems we got us a trespasser.
Boys, let’s put him down the mine—”
But Dix spurred forward as he spoke,
catching the bandits all off-guard.
Before they could could drew, he scattered them
and seized the sack with a strong arm.
“Get him!”angry Randsome cried,
as Dixon turned and dashed through.
“I want that sack, I want it all!
Run down that blasted fool!”
The race was on through canyon walls,
half covered in ice and snow.
Dix was ahead by a good span,
but could he get clear? He didn’t know.
On he pounded, but his foes gained,
not weighed down by Santa’s sack.
If this kept up Dix knew that he
would never made it back.
But a ringing of bells sounded above,
and a shadow raced on past.
Santa’s sleigh soared above the gorge,
his flight blew and icy blast!
It slowed the bandits in pursuit,
they ducked to cover their heads.
Then Old Saint nick skimmed with snow,
with the runners of his great sled.
A wall of white tumbled on down,
landing on the bandit’s far below.
They shouted and sputtered, motionless,
socked in by a mountain of snow!
By the time the dug themselves out,
Dixon and his horse were too far gone,
out or sight and far beyond
the reach of Randsome’s throng.
When Dix cleared the rocky canyons
and rode out into the cold parklands,
he found Santa and his reindeer team
pulled up by an aspen stand.
When he approached, Santa laughed,
and slung an arm around his back.
“My boy I knew you would pull through.
We got Christmas back on track!”
CONCLUDES IN PART III.
Learning when/how to close seat then...
flush... the toilet with good frisson!
(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).
Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal bodily function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,
exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,
radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul rectum tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while
appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,
privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,
die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth
(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed
amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.
Join the runners at the line,
clean out all those pantry shelves.
Make a promise to spend time,
creating a healthy self.
Throw away all the junk food,
maybe head down to the gym.
Eat less, get more sleep, and walk,
try to make my body slim.
Why not learn a new language,
or how to knit and crochet.
Put away all my pennies,
to save for a rainy day.
Quit smoking and less cussing,
consume no more alcohol.
Adopt a pet, learn to cook,
buy local and not the mall.
Go to church and pray for peace,
try something new every day.
Just relate and meditate,
speak only when there’s something to say.
Be early and never late,
turn away from the TV.
Say the words, “I Love You” more,
to my wife and family.
Spend more time getting outdoors,
enjoying life’s little things.
Try to be more confident,
maybe even learn to sing.
Don’t judge people by their look,
think awhile before I speak.
Look for the good, ignore the bad,
stand up for the lost or weak.
Spend less time on my cell phone,
more time with my family.
Write more words, make some new friends,
be the best that I can be.
Friendships, wordy scripts, cameras, microphones and venue blips. Call security, no need to be shirty, let's go again.. scene five, take thirty. Action. Cut. Time for tea. The bar is closed but coffee's free. The waiting patiently never ends. We chat we laugh. We're making friends. The brushes flash across my brow.. my shirt is steamed no creases now. As runners jog and sound men lean. I've learned my lines, we're quite a team.. with birthday Sue and sooty Dave.. the risks we take favour the brave. It's all been worth the sweat and tears, a hundred props of seventeen years. With actors, crew and faithful few. The final shots to rave review. A shout hooray and rapturous clap.
For Acting on Impulse.. it's a wrap x
Plants need water; stamps need glue.
Bricks need mortar; hair: shampoo.
Cars need gas; food needs spices.
Technogeeks need new devices.
Dogs need leashes; letters: stamps.
Folks in wheelchairs need nice ramps.
Zoos need visitors, so do shows.
Igloos wait for Eskimos.
Bands need tubas; singers: mics.
Hiking boots help out on hikes.
Laundry needs detergent; church needs sinners.
Marathons need runners, with some winners.
Teeth need toothpaste; dentists: drills.
Roller coaster riders require thrills.
Tattoo artists must have ink.
Skaters need a skating rink.
Gyms need trainers; schools need teachers.
Stadiums require bleachers.
Beds need pillows; sailboats: sails.
Hammers must desire nails.
Symbiosis sees us through,
Which explains why – I need you!