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.
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.
This a revised and updated edition of a poem I recently wrote and posted. I'm interested in your comments, especially if your read the previous version. Thank you for reading and providing your honest opinion(s).
Where have you gone America, where have you been?
Where are the places I used to roam
Long ago with family and friends?
Where are your steeples and spires pointing
Upward, skyward bound? Are they still there
Where I last left them
Back in my home town? God fearing people
And places, filled with traces of
Humanities hopes and dreams;
Sky scrapers, chance takers,
Sweet Land of Liberty.
And I hope you haven’t lost the grandeur
Of the Rocky Mountain Range;
The Blue Ridge, Black Hills, Sierra Nevada,
And Northern Cascades.
Are your wonderfully winding rivers still running
And forest trees growing tall
Like the pioneer days
Before the Pilgrims came to call?
Do your hearts still yearn
For what might be earned
Through the sweat of the brow and tears?
Do people still sing and dance by the moon
Because freedom’s still free so I here? Some fear
You may be falling
From the crow’s nest where you’ve been
While the waves are growing stronger
And you’re losing too many old friends.
While I still wave “Old Glory”
In these hurricane like gales,
‘Cause I’ve seen other places
And many sad faces
Where everybody fails.
Where life is pathetic, miserable, vile;
Without freedom of expressing
Barely a thought worthwhile.
Not that you don’t have a few
Stones in need of shining;
You’ve made some mistakes
But it’s still not too late;
Changing course is a matter of timing. I believe
In you America, you’re
The cradle, bosom and grave
Of all that I am and will ever be
In you, my heart still craves.
Though some may vehemently disagree
The right to do so sets them free
Paid for by the last full measure
Of friends and lovers, sons and daughters,
Fathers, Brothers in Arms,
Souls unraveled from earthly travels, America
You’re a long, long way from gone.
From my view and this direction
This reflection from the glass;
Half full instead of empty,
Troubles always pass. Sooner or later
Come what may the pendulum always shifts;
Left and right, day and night, America,
You’re still the world’s greatest gift.
I’m going to lock it up
I’m going to build walls
No, sky scrapers
Im going to surround it with thorns
And fire will burn all the way around
I’m going to lock it
Turn the rusty key
Watch it crumble into rust, dust
Break and fall away
Pulverized, into dirt
I’m going to lock it up
I’m going to lock it up
So deep and jailed in
With bricks, stacked
Cemented by hands
Clenched, bones, white hot knuckled
Red and white, stuffed inside
Jammed and thrust into seclusion
You’ll never find it, or greet
The soft petals with your touch
The pink veined and venomed things
Which would shutter and shirk away
Locked and twisted and bound
And hidden, smashed into a trunk
Is that enough? Is that enough?
I’m going to lock it up
These angels you’ll never find
Go on, search with those yellow eyes
Those blue and hateful cold dead northern eyes
Rheumy with desire and death crusted over
Look and watch it fail in the light
Lock it up, lock it up, lock it up
Watch it fade away into the shard of a memory
And vanish into the air like a breath
Mystique of mouthful aisle eats intrepid footsteps
Bespoke brick shelf scrapers muffle internet tweets
Eyes provide sole light source, borers of exploration
Closed cover modesty encroaches on curiousity
Timorous piled rectangles least represent symmetry
Shifted to stained beige paged, folded back scars
Markers of importance boast creased corners torn
In enthused infusing, informed more with each turn
Tattered stacks of spines teeter, threaten to topple
Jostle in baskets bulging gloss tortoise shell crust
Quintessential bread for society baked concepts
Richly impacts soft butter, invites require no RSVP
10th March 2021
Written for Contest: Bookshop
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
I had so much fun to be with you!
You were wearing shirts in all color blue.
We threw crumpled paper like we’re six graders,
We ran and shouted like those elephant wailers.
Remembering 18th when we played those wooden chairs?
We grabbed white candies and buckled upstairs.
With your crazy dance moves over a yellowish folded paper,
You grouped yourselves absurdly like those itchy black scrapers.
You moved insanely with a green tomato on your face,
We sang together though we were so out of our pace.
We ate and chatted like it’s going to be our last.
Time was though unfair because it was ever too fast.
I’ll treasure that day because it was the best,
Our Christmas was dear compare to the rest.
Remember 18 because it was a magical scene,
Our greatest happiness is a treasure unseen.
Form:
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..
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
Invisible
Ah to fly
Like Superman
And save the day once more
Or X-Ray rescue captives
As I laser-melt the door
Perhaps I climb
Tall towers
And swing without a care
Between the skyline scrapers
Catching villains in a snare
Or my muscles flex
In latex
City restoration is the goal;
As I zoom around in vehicles like
Some dark knight of the soul
A metal suit
Protects me
While my heart burns like the sun
With my cape-less banter shielding
Vulnerabilities, every one
The years behind have taught me..
That heroic can be small
No need to spin the planet
Or smash right through the wall
Instead, it is in wisdom;
The timeless gentle start
Of the smile that lights the shadows
On the dark side
Of a heart
No need to be invisible
Why not let your shadow fall
On the desperate, lonely stranger
We start with one
And save them all.
Jinjagoliath
25th June 2022
Well I originate from way up here
you see these water drops called rain
but when temperatures fall I do appear
for I'm ice, most folks call me a winter pain
You see I freeze into all shapes
now if you hold me I'm really cold
and when you do I'll get impatient
for I melt turn to water, not like gold
In winter all you car drivers hate me
for I form all over your glass
harden fast on the windowpane
needing scrapers to get me off fast
Now I'm not finished with you guys
so to the roads and motorways, I go
making it slippery so can't brake fast
but if you use your sense you go slow
Dangerous I am too on walkways about
in winter old folks can get nasty falls
I cover their ways so to slip and slide
but hey I'm Mr nice(ice) in your mall!
(I have written this poem from the perspective that I am ICE speaking from its personal perspective.)
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