Long Shaft Poems
Long Shaft Poems. Below are the most popular long Shaft by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shaft poems by poem length and keyword.
...For two weeks Lester worked that pyrite vein,
and every day a brand new dollar came,
at the end he hug dug out two cart’s worth,
said Higgs, “Now that’s enough work in the earth.”
He smiled proud, they dragged it to the trains,
Lester still sure the old man was insane,
once loaded up, he said, “I will return
in six months to see you get all you’ve earned.”
He saw him off, thinking that that was that,
the man was mad, but his wallet was fat,
Lester had coin to live another month,
jobs came and went, he needed a new one.
Some laughed at him for digging up fool’s gold,
friendly ribbing, if all the truth be told,
he didn’t mind, and got a good story
to tell people when out drinking whiskey.
Come wintertime, Lester was at the bar,
Higgs and his mine from Lester’s thoughts were far,
he shot the bull with several local guys
when the door open, and all were surprised.
There stood Mad Higgs, shaking off winter snow,
he saw Lester, and to him he dig do,
and on that bar, in front of half the town
a thousand dollars in greenbacks slapped down.
All eyes went wide at such a stack of cash,
Higgs said, “Now partner, I say you earned that!”
The tumult came, people confused and loud,
over and over, they just asked him, “How?!”
Higgs just smiled, “I said that I’d be back,
spent half a year selling it from my sack
to the children, those precious girls and boys,
yes, my pyrite was their new favorite toy!
“They like shiny things, no one need be told,
and loved to play with rocks that look like gold.
The girls pretend that it’s their jewelry,
the boys pretend that they are rich, you see.”
The men in the bar then all clambered ’round,
cried how they’d like to help him work the ground,
but Higgs said, “Loyalty I do reward.
stay health, Les. Come spring we will dig more.
“Next time Ill give you forty percent share,
but now I have to run, so folks, take care!”
He walked out of the bar to catch a train,
he wasn’t mad, just cagey with his game.
Now for this winfall Lester gave great thanks,
invested most in mines, ranches, and banks,
until he could survive of dividends,
not have to labor each day like most men.
But two weeks of the year when Higgs returned,
he’d go that shaft, and his dollar earn,
dig out pyrite for Higg’s to take and sell,
a fortune of fool’s gold, so people tell.
they thought they were doing a simple task
but failed to realize that all things done
never simple or like they seem. Would
you care to take apart the item in questioned
asked the Professor? Smiling, he spoke not
to allow those who were the audience to
know what they were speaking of. It is not as
simple as it seems, the shelter of the shaft is
to be examed, but I refuse to remove the items from
the shaft (the hole) as this would be a disgusting job.
Others laughed, but I didn't know what they were
speaking of.
I knew what they were speaking of my father
use to have these long drawn-out discussions about
these damn thing's. One time we used a large oak
barrel drum filled with rocks, and bedded that with
straw and ran a pipe up thru the ground, so my
father could invite people over and talk about the
"vents of toilets" by Braffer Deacon,
"We can fly people
to the moon, and have a space station in space,
but can't find away to control the funk of, you know"
This was August 22, 2022, and didn't
understand what the big idea was talking about
a damn toilet, buy we took pictures of the thing, and went around
the country taking pictures of the best, worst and most unusual,
and the most modern outdoor toilets. We even wrote a book on
"Where the Light Gets In"
There are strange voices
that walk the dark hallways
of my mind
They are searching
for the windows
of the Soul
Eventually they meet
at the centre of
The Labyrinth
Where they congregate
at that holy place
to transform into the
I Am
Where the windows
are pushed
wide open
There from its
golden sovereign seat
the One voice
Inexorable
and clear
speaks
Where the Light
gets in
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Get in the Mind Shaft" / Jack White
https://youtu.be/1adZciD1-2o
"The Light shines in the darkness;
and the darkness has not overcome it."
the very first time I saw you
you totally captivated my heart
never had any idea or single clue
but I’m already in love with you since the start
just your name is such a beauty without a doubt
I could hardly believe that you’re real
until I’ve finally touched and held you one by one
falling down from those wand-like branches as in hail
carpeting the dark green bermuda grasses on the ground
with all my zest I gathered you gladly all around
your big round petals shine so bright like a brilliant sun
my faint notion that you’re a hand-made crepe paper
now has passed its way and finally gone
all I wish, when I dance you’ll adorn my hair
I’ll be proudly making you into garlands for a special affair
in my eyes, you’re one of the emblems of royalty
in this beautiful kingdom and lovely place
while local and foreign folks are all enjoying their stay
you’re providing them an atmosphere with solace
in your yellow color is a shaft of light for peace
Supannika, with my piquancy I am taking you home
to introduce you that you’re such a special kind
a radiant flower to float on water will lastly bloom
most especially I’ve a great idea in my mind
you’ll be a wonderful gift to my loved ones on Valentines
Written: Feb. 10, 2012
Second Place
Contest: Simple Title
Judged: 3/9/13
Poet Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
My brush is alive, beating heart and a mind,
As I stand here holding its shaft.
I put paint on its head, to the thickness desired,
Granting a beautiful gift for my craft.
Time sits on a seat, my mind’s intense meditation,
Creating exactly my taste and design.
The shadows, the depth, the thick and thin hues,
The saturation of every line.
We work as a team, we both become one,
Like a well-oiled sexy machine.
‘Til before both of us, upon the white canvas,
Our image of perfect, amazing and clean.
I’m not sure where I go as I paint and create,
As my hand pushes the brush all around.
But I know by the end, my mind returns to my head,
Returning from its mental playground.
Entered for Kim Rodriguez contest Art, written 2016 May on the quiet and never entered in any other contest.
Christmastide
Between light or dark imaginings
Our lives flash past,
Beneath bright sun, moonlight stark
Reflections fill the glass
Spread wontonly about the city's feet
Omnipresent stone
Catches all those movements fleet
As starlings soar above, alone.
The dreams of many urchins
Flow upwards through the slate-grey skies
Appealing to silent Djinn
Who rule their lives and sigh
Willows swaying in a starry night
Beckoning shadows back to open fields
Where spirits fight
Against the moon, wind, and beat their shields.
Snow settling on each frozen shaft
Of iron skeletons of our new Leviathans
As they grow brittle through excess of craft.
They rear their heads; lay cryptic plans
In silent converse high above
The light-jeweled streets which run
With undefined, secret love
Towards the drop of the horizon and the winter sun.
Concealed somewhere within this swirlingness
Old men drift home with paper bags
Containing gifts of blessedness
For grandchildren in silks or rags,
Which they'll receive with shouts of joy,
And smiles endearing as rainbows,
Both old and young are wise, the world as yet their toy
Their hopes run not too swift, nor slow.
The lighted squares of many homes adorn
The solid jet of Winter's darkness.
Pierced now and again by Gabriel's horn -
Sounds of train blasts followed by a clacking sussurance
Much laughter flows through many rooms
Tonight as love haunts every musty hall,
Goes creaking past each doorway; at last assumes
The quiet shape of All in One and One in All.
O keeper of this softened moment,
Warders of men's peace of mind,
Shades in solitude, teach us to relent
Our urge to seek and find
The roots of all our fears;
And rather let us learn
To rest content, let fall the tears,
Rue last mistakes, look up, and yearn.
I pull down from the shelf
The beautiful box of treasures
Ornately carved
Warm, yet well worn
To the gentle touch of my fingers
There is no rush
As I sit in this cosy spot
The sunlight of memory
Like a shaft of enlightenment
Beams onto my cheeks
There is a brass clasp
That silently releases the lid
Inset with filigree, blue and gold
My favourite colours
In my favourite pattern
The hinges release the air inside
Like a happy sigh
A hug of acceptance
As a valued friend visits
After life has carved out years of absence
My eyes closed, I reach inside..
I find the sound of laughter
Forest light streaming through the trees
Jewels of picnics and Spring days
Friends I have loved and lost
I find endless Christmases
Warm Summer gifts of love
Painted pictures from children
Smiles from unexpected messages
Or kind words that linger
I find weddings and food and dancing
Music and poetry and photographs, old and new
I remember the holding of many hands
Small, soft, pretty, all different
Some tired and wrinkly (my favourites)
I find emotions that I thought I had lost
All gathered in this precious box.
Placed carefully,
Never broken
Always perfect and personal
I am slightly overwhelmed
(it happens sometimes)
For now, the tears can stay outside
As I close the lid, replace the clasp
Until the next time
Gentle Earth, I beg of you -
Whisper to us the first sign of spring.
Annul this wintry despair
And a season of life anew, bring.
From the depths of Baja
Carry the warmth in upon a draft.
Poke the sunshine through grumbly clouds
And send it down as a gilded shaft.
Clothe the desert with the raiment
Of fleeting sheets of white rain.
Implore the wildflowers that they
Bestow upon us a fantastic display.
Help the button-face of the brittlebush
Peep over the dead, crumpled brush.
Bring forth the canyon penstemon.
Make the Mexican lime cactus flush.
With one quick stroke of rain
Paint the delicate creosote yellow.
Order the Engelmann’s cactus to raise
Their trumpets of fuchsia and blow.
Tempt forth the birds to sing - listen!
I beg, usher March in.
Like the moon pours its light
Over a forest, in silence
Echoing the music of solace
Graceful like the sigh, inspiration
Healing darkness, nocturnal
Blessings venturing beyond the moon
Stars in glimpses of hopeful shimmering
Promising to make wishes come true with their laughter,
Blessing the heart, the soul – with
Knowing that even the densest undergrowth
Feels the melody as the moon
Casts its shaft, elegant, supple – flowing
Over the night, beckoning paradise, stirring the soul to life
As it parts the oaks, the pines, singing
Through the limbs, gentling lyrics
Opening hearts, in the clearing –
Where moonlight restores the joy
Burning through those who know, alone
Isn’t always lonely. Sometimes,
Alone is like a touch from the most holy
The Clearing Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
February 10, 2023
Cupid’s adept at quantum entanglement
his arrow has no shaft instead a crafty wave
two spinning end curves, not a singular head
as this emissary sends signal to maid and knave
vibrations ripple with superposition stead
like bottle-nosed dolphin smoothly outdelivers
bashful receivers twist, twirl, dare not quiver
electric intention across time-space weave
this is no unruly Robin Hood fighting heave
Divine alignment chooses magnetic maiden
portal opens precious pearly coded probability
universe responds with willing golden spirals
precise molecules looking like slippery chirals
rascal but knows ardent alchemical compatibility
mercurial mirror reflects duo’s ample agilities
turquoise light refracting lifts forgotten bond
sacred it slept inside musical harp softly fond
pirouetting progresses path matching persons
particles becoming prime entangled photons
picking out their aspects is a spooky action
wave emits fractal triangle as realisation hits
atomic Love cannot but flamenco follow flits
heart harmonic orchestrates beloved true
when triangle aims this is the cue !
________________
*triangle in this context : God/masculine/feminine