Long Saltier Poems

Long Saltier Poems. Below are the most popular long Saltier by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Saltier poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member When They See My Wing Shadow They Know

When I am on the hunt if I want fresh
I choose young, it is always fresher meat.
Young bunnies, squirrels, rats, moles, voles.
Tastier, and less of a struggle.

But when my mother’s heart catches their eye,
And I think for a second of my owlets, I sometimes
Let up, and go after something that has had more of a life.
Hoping I will not also catch their eye.

Injured meat is what I swoop for if I have had a long day
And I am tired. Injured meat is easier, struggles less, and
Has a unique fear-based taste that is a little saltier.
I think it is from their blood pumping so hard as they
Struggle to get away. When they see my wing shadow, they know.

The old ones are the easiest, no matter what animal I am
Hunting.  At dusk or pure black of night, they are the easiest to take down.
I do not hunt much at dawn, as that is my sleeping time.  The old ones
Are grateful when I snap them up. They are ready to be torn apart.
Their spirits are grateful for the relief.

The only problem with the old one’s meat is, that it is tough, 
And grainy and is not as blood-tasty as the young or the injured.
My owlets cheer when I drop a young one into our nest. When it
Is an old one, they turn up their beaks.  Act like I have failed them.
I am so proud when I run an animal down for them. 

The animal sees my wing shadow, and it knows I am a fantastic mother.


A Mackerel in Make Believe -PT2-

She dreamt a dream of a requisite requiem far away,
For the unrequited love of life, led her lanky lamb's limbs astray.
To where she'd dither along the moor's marsh land,
Braved the dreary draughts of randy rain and hindless hail.
She'd return without fail in her frailty.

To where the shadows cast by the leaves of the alders,
Speckled across her open back like silver freckles.
She'd sway in the clearest of days, and lay in the ravage of rain.
And in saltier slathers of gold graced spit,
She'd await the pair of goldfinches to descend upon her silver speckled clit.
Await the trill of their liquid song, sung by their acetone tongue ,
Pecking a silver chime over the pleasure of grated groans.
“No.” Her iron lungs lunged and quivered.
She supposed he knew from his exhale and shiver.
 
Awake, now, lesserly known nor knowing, moreso,
awaken, alone, but with the haunting face of a *** upon her window,
“outside, look outside”
It called, so she stayed inside, unknown, laying low from the randy ravage of his rage.

9/11/2025

Laudator Temporis Acti

Methinks all antediluvian Love was
Whiter than snows atop higher tors;
And with more troth dudes did kiss
Purer maidens for pleasanter bliss.

I deem Art shortly after Noah’s Ark
To have been of better-spun spark; 
And bards of far more sublime quill
Did indite with stouter metered skill.

Niftier lines which Columbus hymned,
On virgin voyages to terrains deemed
By soil-tilling mortals uninhabited yet;
Such ditties do dim both fear and fret. 

Tighter Calvary Faith as Bunyans 
Prisoners fell in Hades' vile plans,
Wet-toweling martyrs' spirits bold,
Felt saltier with truer saints of old. 

Daintier Oratory and Polemics alike
Did with indeed finer Lincolns spike;
Notches less finessed minions today,
Such steadily sorrier contrasts betray.
Form: Epic

On

1/15/23

Always toking strong
A continual breeze blowing on
Meanwhile a lot kept going wrong

Over petty things they were so fond
Forming such a close bond
Among all these neutrons and protons

A lot done in a week
Answers found where rivers meet
It is bittersweet

Continual pandemonium
They remained saltier than sodium
Placing unfit things on a podium

In a world full of petroleum
Floors lined with linoleum
Also flowers that can be made into opium

It had nothing to do with teapots
In person not just by screen shots
Experienced firsthand and seen lots
Climbed to the tree tops
Then I started to speed off
No matter if endlessly she mocks
Saw right through it and noticed all the weak spots

Why is it that people do or don't believe in GOD?
Been occurring for Eons
Just proceed on
Keep calm

In the background endless distant whispers
As people portray an accurate or different picture
I constantly am smoking THC and sipping liquor
No love found just some veggies and a chicken dinner
Similar or traditions differ
A lot in the world harmless or a vicious killer
I was often able to win with vigor
Sometimes had a short fuse but a long distance swimmer

They've got bad intentions and much to pay
It can be done in a few ways
Near and far from any statue of Guadalupe
No concern over why do they
Regardless of what all these fools say
It's going down round the clock , sometimes seconds too late
Close or way off from any blue jay
Onto a new day

Among all these species
With foul intentions worse than left out feces
Causing harm by cheap means
I thought peace seemed
Like the better answer but they just spread it like cream cheese
Above and below these trees with green leaves
Became friends with queen bees
Went down to depths of beyond a thousand and sixteen leagues
Continually we bleed
Does anyone notice the end to people and a message that he or she leaves?
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Poem I Never Wrote

The Poem I Never Wrote

Is still on my lips 

Buried treasure at the time

Now it's a barnacle on the ships side 

And with each passing year

It keeps growing and growing

In infamy 

In its infancy, some 50 years ago

The stage was set

We were twelve, once

Like two seagulls circling the sea

In harmony 

But I didn't have the gull

To hold her hand

Or pass her a love note 

No, no
 
Theres was no poet in me

Or a lion

Only a snail

It tears me to think about it

How our butterflies fluttered 

And I didn't catch hers

connie pacheco 

10/7/22

Not for contest

... it kept growing and growing, becoming 

saltier and saltier


Premium Member Summer Storm

Prelude:

OXYMORONIC

            without air
   without poetry
— cold

7/20/2020

THE SUMMER STORM

the roof’s removed, eyes closed
a splattering of thunder, lightning, rain
no sticks nor stones

let it rain, frenetically...
Spain* could be no sweeter
sounds could be no saltier

upstanding fan still spins
in unison

who needs air conditioning
when God orchestrates.

the welcome mat’s
soaking wet

i’m not
yet

but if i was
i have
no
complaint.

i hug the grace
God
gives me,

tell my husband
not
to stand

in front of the screen door

his smile
i adore

7/21/2020

*Relates to the tongue twister: “The rain in Spain is mainly in the plain”

Premium Member Sea

Sea

I am inherently patient,
I just go with the flow.
I have many dark secrets,
No one will ever know.
Sometimes I can be shallow,
Sometimes I'm dark and deep. 
When you look at me closely 
Your face is what you'll see.
I do not have a sweet side,
I am saltier than most.
Some say that I am frigid,
As cold as a raging ghost.
But my beauty is unsurpassed,
Outside as well as in. 
Poets seek to describe me,
But I can evade them.
And, Before you know me very well,
You cannot imagine my age,
 my ancient stories tell,
Nor count my many graves.
When the storms of life are pouring down
I get angry, destructive, and mean;
I’ve only allowed one Man I loved
 to walk all over me.
All else take care , and beware,
My moods wave up and down.
Just as a ship, those who trusts in me,
I'll break, and rend, and drown.
sea

Sacred Sons

"Why, God?
So many Sacred Sons.
Some shining or burned caramel,
And some of pearl.
Some who loved their Mothers,
Some who I wanted to protect from them.
Many who I wanted to parent,
Many who I wished were my older brother who never came home.
So many I shared tears with,
And intimate moments.
The word love, exchanged with ease.
Conflict meaning instant distance.
This heart it opened,
And closed,
And opened.
And I listened, God.
I loved myself deeper,
Each time the cycle ended.
I emerged again, I applied the new.
I fell on my knees, time and time again.
My hands opened wider and my tears grew saltier.
Why, God? 
I listened, 
I followed.
Why is it never me?
Why does it never last?
Who was the Son I heard the song about in my heart?
The one from my visions?
Forever a chapter, always learning myself again.
How long have I been doing this?
How many lifetimes, God?
What am I missing?...
I met myself.
I guess it's time to do it again.
And again, God.
Some things I don't understand.
The list it grows.
The leverage to leave does also.
I love myself and I know myself.
Enough chapters, God.
I am tired."

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