Long Runoff Poems
Long Runoff Poems. Below are the most popular long Runoff by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Runoff poems by poem length and keyword.
Yale’s friday “spring fling” was a soggy success - both as a concert and super spreader event. My groove-spirit was dampened by weather and a final I had the next morning.
I pose here tonight, in the chill residential courtyard, on my green sport-brella beach chair, like Canova’s Pauline Borghese, relaxed, canned dirty-martini in hand, still untouched by the covid menace - as if I’d taken sagacious care in avoiding it.
The waxing crescent moon is strutting its familiar runway, like a vague, ambient night-light, but what should we expect for free? Maybe it’s saving itself for warm, clear summer skies.
I can relax tonight and binge on the moon because the school year is over (for me).
I’d been in a coffee-fueled study-trench for over a week, finishing my last assignment paper with my last gasp of academic energy. It illustrated what could be crafted in a vacuum void of originality. I filled it with ideas, gathered like runoff-water, from deeper sources and tailored the paragraphs with care, weaving by sleight, the 3D illusions of depth, breadth and substance.
It was very well received. *Taking a bow*
I love the feeling of being done with finals but still living on campus. It’s casual, adult and relaxed - close to life as I dreamed it as a kid.
My room is disassembled and I’m living out of my suitcase. Movers will come and cart off our stuff Monday and Leong and I will head south - like wrong way birds. I hate goodbyes but knowing these are temporary helps. Most of my summer will be like one, continuous sleepover.
Happy Mother’s Day!
slang:
friday = something that was fun and was looked forward to
I long to walk the hills today
among bare trees that dance and sway
where leaves, now flightless, stories tell
where damp and rotting, earthy smells
enhance and echo what they say
I long to walk beneath the trees
so graceful, bending in the breeze
reflected in the runoff creek
where I can often catch a peek
before fawns scamper off with ease
I long to walk beside the brook
that shows the path the water took
when last the clouds threw back their doors
and blessed us with their precious stores
left shallow ponds in shady nooks
I long to sit upon a rock
and simply let the water talk
I babble far too much, it seems
there’s much to learn from quiet streams
away from demands of the clock
So I’ve decided what to do
and maybe it’s okay with you
for I’ve resolved: put down the pen
cast wide the door and walk again
perhaps you’d like to join me too?
The iridescent raven perched upon pilings
By just one lake in Friesland's beautiful wetland outings
His golden beak and orange legs with claws set off
Against black feathers that glisten and are a rain runoff
Carefully he watches the Edelhert fawn play
At the edge of the lake, close to woods, where he lives all day
He had seen the das at dusk as he watched them all
His duty as the lookout to warn them against harm's fall
Against the vas that sly thief, who comes in the night
When all sleep, even for the watchman death could be his plight
Some Of The Wildlife In The Netherlands
Edelhert:Red Deer
Das:Badger
Vas:Fox
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest: Your Ode To "My"Netherlands And/Or "My Friesland"
Written: April 22, 2014
Winds blowing
Hard against the house
Buffeted
Shuddering
Hunkering down for the worst
As the front rolls in
Rain pounding
On the metal roof
Voices raised
Just to hear
Rivers running through the yard
Creating trenches
Light flashes
A two-count and boom
Puppy dog
Snuggles close
Hills outlined by strobed flashes
Petitions raised up
Calm returns
Distant flashes now
Long count booms
Rain subsides
Runoff racing downhill fast
The world is fresh, clean
----------
SECOND PLACE WINNER
For the "Give Me A Shadorma" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
Written on 02/17/2022
https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/91oRl8DvHQL._AC_SY679_.jpg (link to image "The Lost Cow"
“I am not lost,” said the cow
“I am just not found.”
And so he wandered through
The plains aimlessly as
Though he had no purpose
And as he wandered he
Began to see all the
Wonderful sights, smell
All the wonderful smells,
Hear all the wonderful
Sounds, feel all the wonderful
Feelings, taste all the
Wonderful flavors and he thought
To himself, “Now I know that
I am found.” and he began to
Appreciate all the things that
He hadn’t even noticed before
He noticed the sparkle of the
Grass with its early morning dew
He noticed the trickle of the
Creek with its fresh mountain runoff
And he thought to himself, “So this
Is what it’s like to be found.”
A stalled monsoon trough over central Nepal
caused continuous torrential heavy rainfall
Slopes pushed up moisture from the Bay of Bengal
The catastrophe was looming large to befall.
Sudden breach of a moraine dam
Triggered Glacial Lake outburst floods
A surge of water and debris devastates
downstream, catching communities off guard.
Landslides continued to collapse slopes,
forming temporary dams that later burst
Steep valleys amplified runoff swift and fast
Flood of fury of all time unleashed the worst.
A compound climate disaster of twin sciences
Meteorology and geology to decipher in depth
monsoon extremes, unstable glaciers, terrain hazards
Perished hundreds of lives and left many homeless.
Sparse sensors, lack of predictive models a curse
Warrant real time glacial monitoring at source
With closely spaced weather station networks
And cross border early warning systems
…….Narayan Gadagkar
The poet never asks
for rhyme with reason,
this would be treason
to a romantic heart...
All good lyrics
play their lyrical parts--
true writers and players
true to lyrical hearts--
and lovers having taken
that forever vow, will not
their hearts beat alone, for
never has been written
a convincing way nor how….
Indeed!--life can be heartless….
composing its own unscripted text--
and garlic above the door
or a talisman worn about the neck
will not ward off such evil hex--
hearts striving outside
the shallow reality when parted
die each day a suitable same:
it is the Romantic’s code
for which God on high alone
our teacher of eternal love
must totally take blame….
with each love’s passing
some of life’s spirit, for the poet,
seems equally to drain;
as we pray all lovers
no permanent sorry will stain--
no love’s story should ever end
with the storm, the runoff and mere
evaporation--but with unification
above and beyond even the limitless
heavens….
Days too long for the sun to bite still hard,
All trees bring forth leaves that are mostly green,
Different hues are what summer fails to preen,
With grace, yet with force, summer's hands bombard.
Rain may catch even the prepared off guard,
Its runoff sweeps paved roads fresh, clear and clean,
Its grains and pebbles make the oceans glean,
Yet it lets wild weeds grow in each farmyard.
Longer night, fall, I beg of you to bring,
With coolness that summer deprived me of,
So on my bed I can sleep like a king,
And turn it into a playground for love,
Where our love and our affection can sing,
As we playfully embrace, push, and shove.
Climber
by Odin Roark
Reality readied its chance
Ascent of an alpine face
Traversing ice and cold
Challenging steel axe and rope
Such was the pulsating vibration
Facing another dawn
That day
Blade and ice danced slow motion
Penetrating deep into resistance
Echoing through layered centuries
Awakening nature to its presence
Breath became reserved
High altitude remained merciless
Snow-blind eyes squinted thankfully
As yards became feet
Became inches
Became respect for the unknown
Frozen feet
Cinched tight inside
Defiant crampons
Numbly impelled their serrated spikes
The blue iced chorus groaned displeasure
Reminding auger-encroachment
Frozen time was forever resilient
Destiny prevailed
Mortality hung suspended
As will over apathy
Courage over defeat
Found fear had been conquered
Life’s architecture
Like da Vinci ’s Vitruvian Man
Became a frozen tapestry
Life’s proportions
Past
Future
Present
Coalesced
Transformed
Became…
Some might say such a tale
Mere envisages
Penned into a journal
To bide some time
This night however…
The mountain-wall’s next attempt
Huddled in a tent weathering sub-zero temperatures
Sipped tea from his father’s battered cup
A legacy found long ago
Floating atop glacial runoff
Through the night
Ink continued flowing
Tin cup foreshadowing remained warm
First light neared
Nestling in my realm, as you host a daydream,
Reveling in breeze of my splendor evergreen,
I welcome you to my domain of rhythmic trills
Where roam the blue jays, robins, and crossbills
Feeding on berries, frolicking with hatchlings,
Singing gaily, serenading benevolent sanctuary
Amid bears’ huff, growl, and foxes’ feral-howl
Sheltered amicably from dry heat and rainfall;
Where trees reduce pollution, boost air quality,
Emit oxygen you breathe, by photosynthesis,
Bear flowers, fruits, nurturing your well-being
Temper climate cheerily, swaying with winds,
Hold soil in place, reducing runoff to streams
Protecting elixir of life in rivers and tributaries;
While you find balance in sanctity and peace,
Enlightened by whispers rustling in harmony,
That warn of deforestation ruining ecosystem,
And callousness that torches wildlife and trees;
Yet, I rise from ashes sprouting earth’s tranquility
For I am the forest of goodwill and sublimity,
Adorning every season, standing for you firmly,
Hosting you as you rejoice in salutary daydream.
May 22, 2022
Poem of the day on May 24, 2022
Placed 1st: Wisdom From Trees Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon