Long Scrapers Poems
Long Scrapers Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrapers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrapers poems by poem length and keyword.
Swept from the ballroom romances
She glides in search of serenity
Never did she wonder about the passions
Beyond the borders of the heart..
She could see through the sky scrapers
The rock music and the fake tattoos..
She could smell the flavors sweeter
Than the roses from the flower shop at the corner;
Brown boots, vests, jeans and a
Checkered shirt was all she had..
All she needed...
It was her and the bloody world
Competing for peace.
ONE STEP FORWARD:
The deep craters were majestic,
She could soar high, without directions,
She closed her eyes for perfect darkness;
She won; the smile was unavoidable..
Land of the free
Home of the brave
From sea to shining sea
In between golden waves
From the fields farmers plant
Across the vast Mid-West
In this Americana Panorama
Northern cities touching sky
Scrapers lighting up the night
As the Carolina shore
Echos back the oceans roar
Along the Texas plains
Where freedom loves to sing
In this Americana Panorama
With the Grand Canyons openness
To Alaska's wilderness
The mountains majesty
Powerful in its reach
In all the time that's spent
There's no other way to live
In this Americana Panorama
The colorful blue fescue
On a Kentucky afternoon
Under a Live Oak tree
With Spanish moss as company
To the California sunset
Being the last thing said
In this Americana Panorama
The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windscreens cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
What you give, you will get back in return,
If you are nice to someone, and you leave it,
They’ll be nice back to you in the future, burn,
And a friendship may blossom to kindly sit.
Being nice is a positive, on the upwards level,
Going the upwards way, it’s something warm;
Gravity sits to allow trees to grow, no bevel,
Plants, planes, buildings, sky-scrapers form.
Leaves fall off the trees, plants photosynthesise,
Planes must land sometime, buildings get old,
Sky-scrapers are at risk of destroying the prize,
When weather threatens their structures bold.
So life says that when your frame is on the way up,
And you like people and show love for plane space,
When you could interject something kind, yup,
But don’t have to, and you do, ‘cos that’s your face.
Then you can be assured that in time, after a bit,
You’ll get back what you’ve given, for nothing,
Because what goes up must come back down, fit,
According to science’s law of gravity that’s moving.
Facilitating The Facility
Solid structures should stay outside where they belong
With a firm facility of understanding occupational standards
In their simplicity of design
Edifices don’t build themselves in wildernesses
No one does
It’s not civilized
Loud noises must be nurtured in the city
To appreciate the sacrifice
The road to success is always under construction
Edifices have to rise above it all
Iron buildings need to breathe in rust
By starting from the outside in
And stand alone in the metropolis
Or else they don’t
Utilized to work in their basic functionality
Buildings take on the life of corporations, homes and offices
Certain to house nobility in the structure of their intent
To stand forever with or without rent
They need not speak
Unless they’re spoken to
Being affiliated with architects and engineers
Gives them a certain air of prominence and prestige
Sky scrapers rise with lofty names
Towering in affluence fills their halls with purpose
Facilitating the facility is under way
They rise with loud noises and voices to the sky
On the ocean's cool sand the nightly thinker stands,
shadows hide sky scrapers of glass and steel;
only sirens are heard through the awkward stillness,
read his absurd thoughts: they spin as a magnetic reel!
Has he found happiness as imagined in his dream?
From that melancholic look, one can see clearly
that he has been abandoned by all...wasn't he so leam?
He seeks stars to ignite a desire stirred by fantasy:
images of children grabbing his hands make him weep,
he tries to hold on to them, but they flee and vanish...
despair and remorse are angry feelings he can't put to sleep;
if only they returned for a second, they would lift his anguish!
It's late October and dawn's brilliant lights invade the cloudless shore;
there he lays as a cadaver as pain tightens up the muscles of his core!
Copyright ( c ) 2015 by Andrew Crisci
Looking here over at my window
At the 20th floor, Father
I see the beauty of the city
Those high scrapers standing
At the side are like mountain
Covered with concrete and glass
In front of me is the sea docked
With lined raws of yacht at the quay
Some small sea vessels for fishing
Some commercial ships, some small boats
And big cargo ships busy unloading their goods
Below are the busy streets full of cars, of people
And a long line of a railway over a main street
Of our metro transit public train
That's for the day beauty that I saw during the day
At night, it's more beautiful and colorful
The streets turn into like a disco house
Full of neon lights, various sounds of cars
Passing, the train sounds, the building now
Are all lighted reflecting the glass walls
At far, the sea are all flickering lights from
Vessels to yacht, from small boat to the pier light
More so the sky, you have your stars always
Looking at us, your moon lighting the bay
Lighting all of us, the silence above is magical
To me it's spiritual, my comfort, my home
Below are busy lighted streets, busy people
On their lives, busy on their business, all are busy
Here in my window, I see all of these views
Thank you, Father for this experience
I never forget this business occasion
Of seeing your city on top of the world
I greatly appreciate it very much, Father.
I had overeaten.
So I reached inside myself
And pulled up whatever could be pulled up
From strength that I could muster up
I labored long and hard
And eventually brought forth
Snow capped mountains
And sky scrapers dignified by the rays of the sun
And the tallest pines with cones intact
And stars draped with clouds, silver lined
And song birds with half-sung melodies resting on their beaks
And butterflies with awe-inspiring wings, extended and poised for flight
And rainbows that captured the very essence of past promises.
Exhilarated and exhausted, I wept
Not due to any emptiness or lack
But due to the incredible, unspeakable beauty of the lone rose
That remained anchored to my innermost parts.
I was spent but at peace
mountains and valleys, cold streams and tall trees,
corn fields and farm lands, black crows and young bees,
green grass and sun flowers, black bears and ground hogs,
chickens and ducklings, young cats and old dogs,
all of them sharing, this land of plenty, along with the whole human race,
we’re changing the earth, for better we say, but what we are doing, is changing it’s face,
condos are rising, factories spreading, water’s polluted,
progress we’re saying, but in the end, we’re all deluded,
microwave ovens, gas guzzling cars, cellular phones,
making life easier, even the killing, is now done with drones,
to think mother nature, will stand by and see,
her face being changed, to such a degree,
the future will see, the condos have crumbled, sky scrapers tumbled,
we’ll then realize, to mother nature, we’ll all be humbled.
Now I am quite realistic
Never ever fatalistic
Fantasy never tickled my fancy
So you can understand my surprise
From their daunting size
On the streets of New York
My air left me as if released by a cork
For before me shaped like giant potatoes
Were ten gigantic too big toes
Human in everything but weight
Any want for fainting this can sate
Did I faint? I’m not sure
A want to run this did procure
But connected to these toes
I found their much mightier foes
I beheld feet
Which smell is no treat
I suddenly felt the urge to run
For what was in front of me could block out the sun
Upon the feet were legs
On those legs a fat belly
The deodorant was very cheap and smelly
In awe I looked up more
They wore a jersey with the number four
Their arms could hold sky scrapers each
Humility to all the muscles could teach
And on their head they had a fashioned mullet
The hair spray could stop a bullet
They had fingers that could carve a valley
Which would never fit in any New York alley
The giant chuckled and skipped
And a bow they dipped
To a giant almost completely alike
Who was inspecting a shop window’s intricate bike
The new comer was female
But description is mostly the same tale
She was well dressed
And a laugh she did suppress
As the male stumbled after his bow
Then he joined arm to arm to her allow
And walked on
On to where there was no concrete to trod upon