Long Shell Poems
Long Shell Poems. Below are the most popular long Shell by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shell poems by poem length and keyword.
Bent forward on his wooden chair,
inside his shack, with not a care,
he sits where fast to sleep he fell.
The old man’s sleeping long and well.
Companions waiting to be fed
or have their master pat their head,
wait at his feet, but they can tell
the old man’s sleeping long and well.
One spotted mutt with doggie grace
extends a tongue to lick the face
of him whose form is but a shell. . .
The old man’s sleeping long and well.
Bent forward on his wooden chair,
the old man’s sleeping long and well.
A Kyrielle Sonnet for the Briton Riviere Poery Contest
Link for the painting: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Riviere_Briton_The_Long_Sleep.jpg
I watched a hatching baby chick
struggling to break free from its shell
that was its home for many days
but now was time to say farewell
Mom had pecked into the shell
a tiny hole to start the process
She did her part dutifully
Now the chick must do the rest
I felt sorry for the struggling chick
and could almost feel the pain
I wanted to break off the shell
thinking it would ease the strain
Then I remembered someone said
The chick must struggle on its own
to start its heart and lungs working
for it to become fully grown
I stood and watched as a miracle
unfolded right in front of me
All by itself the chick broke out
and stood there so cute and furry
There is a lesson here for parents
who are raising a family
Be protective of your children
but do not do it overly
*I actually witnessed this event.
I wrote this after reading Evrod Samuel's
TOO MUCH LOVE CAN KILL
john beharry, Any poem/Any form - for new poets of soup, 12/1/2013
She walked up and down the shore looking for shells
As the shells of her past continued to slowly fall behind chasing the shadow of her past
But there are still a few more battles that she will face, on which day she will remember the day she found this wonderful seashell that she had never seen before, a symbol of hope
It is never as bad as it seems so when you feel yourself drowning instead imagine that day on the beach and how easy it was to breathe
And keep breathing knowing that you are more than capable to get through the next challenge
Today let me hold you like tomorrow is not coming because I know somedays,
I don’t do this even though you deserve it
Forgive my selfish desires and thank you for picking me up when I can’t pick up myself
I’m only a shell of myself trying to learn how to be the best
She is only a shell of herself but next to the beach the painting is complete
I see how the sea washes your troubles away
The waves bring hope to another day
The sun is the warmth for when I’m acting cold
The moon is the light when our marriage is in a dark place
The sand, every grain representing our love, in its infinite
In her mind by the beach she sails
Walking by the water looking for seashells
p.s. I’m loving the view…
Oy Vey Smear -
More'n' $500.00 For Car Repair!
Hence mine plaintive strut forward
doleful poetically lamentable
forlorn shell shock mental state
Hyundai deniably forced
me to absorb, sans
requisite auto repair tab
this (Sonata kidding) reality
steered me sigh key -
wracked (in my pinion)
into abysmal suspension tooting horn aye
didst painfully, palp
ably, and pathetically,
(albeit mutinous on bounty of life)
envisioned good bye
regarding woebegone condition
wallet sadly, how checking account
suffered near mortal blow -
cents less lee principally reason cry
ying yup possibly heard, asper
the doll la bills blues and die,
perhaps hastiness dashing
off metrical missive
blindsided, clouded, and obscured
wheely tired call for Eli
(schwa sound) to whisk
this mister where angels fly
essentially taking Matthew
Scott Harris goodbye
from money shortages, away high
yar into the outer reaches
of the twilight auto zone
yet...deep down I dear
lee would rather engine ear
a rescue attempt by claiming fear
less flyer self as charity and gear
legitimate funding to help
a worthy cause, but such chutzpah,
would be here
see within thy coda,
dogma, and car ma,
thus eye shed headlights for
"NON FAKE" truth to app pear.
Horse chestnuts and long sticks scattered around
where children ,balancing along a wall
had tried their best to bring the conkers down,
since it was not yet time for them to fall.
Some shells were slightly open, and inside
lay nuts that caught the sun, a gleaming white,
impatient kids using their thumbnails prised
the shell apart to find a fruit unripe.
These youngsters grow old way before their time,
exposed to influence beyond their years,
not maturing slowly to reach their prime
their childish minds burdened with adult fears.
Depression, self-harm and anxiety,
from images of perfection instilled
by social media and on the TV
fast forward through their childhoods, unfulfilled.
How many with sad futures? Who can tell,
unripened lives lived in their broken shells.
Deep within the bowels of the earth
a pressure builds up in intensity
As lava and gases increase in growth
bubbling and seething with angry fury
The pressure continues to build up
directly under the earth's crust
Which finally weakens and blows its top
yielding to the pressure's upward thrust
The action produces a huge crater
through which ferocious flames exit
Painting the sky in a red orange colour
in an awesome fiery exhibit
It's a grand display of fireworks power
generated by Mother Nature
Which reaches out both near and far
in testimony of its grandeur
Clouds of ash and smoke rise up to the sky
spreading for miles and miles around
Obscuring vision both far and nigh
before most of the ash falls to the ground
A thick outpouring of red hot lava
scorches everything that lies in its path
Streaming down the sides of the crater
as it moves on with relentless wrath
Volcanic action has an awesome tale to tell
of what goes on under earth's placid shell
It's where red hot lava and gases dwell
which when released create a fiery hell
I was in my garden the other day,
watching the squirrels running at play.
Chasing each other seemed such a lark,
running up the Oak tree as held on to its bark.
Birds were chirping their songs of glee,
although I never understood the melody.
But sing they did from tree to tree,
there sat I, like it was meant for me.
I looked over at the flower patch,
something fluttering my eye did catch.
It was only a small white butterfly,
I watched its dance...then it flew by.
A chipmunk came out of its hole to bask in the sun,
just for a few moments and then it was done.
He scolded me that I'd been rude,
not leaving any peanuts for his daily food.
I reached in my bag and tossed him a few,
A Blue jay saw them and down he flew.
Now the chipmunk chirped at the jay,
but to no avail, he was there to stay.
The jay finally left with a large peanut in its beak,
Leaving behind only scattered bits the chipmunk could seek.
He checked each shell the jay left behind,
Until he found a few morsels he could take in kind.
Then to his hole again he ran,
his gatherings that day were far from grand.
While my few minutes in the garden were brief,
they've stuck to me like a book pressing a leaf.
The sights, the sounds, even the scents I recall,
vivid in my memory...one and all.
For there in my garden I had nothing to say,
except, "Thank you Lord, for this beautiful day".
(typo just fixed)
Old Humpty Dumpty, the egg on the wall,
had a friend Bacon, who was ten feet tall.
Those two went together like bread goes with jam,
pen goes with paper, or glaze goes with ham!
Friends since their childhood, they’d made a blood pact.
Bacon got fried,and gave up some fat. That’s a fact!
Humpty made a wee crack in his shell. No joke!
The blood that HE used was his very own yolk!
They swore on the good book - Mother Goose Rhymes
they’d always be friends through good times and bad times.
The blood pact was greasy, but no one could sever
their bond! From then on, they’d be best friends forever.
Each day Humpy Dumpty would meet his friend Bacon.
Since both were so large, they had never been taken
by human beings to be cooked up and consumed.
But neither one guessed that their fate was doomed.
They’d thought they were sheltered by all the King’s men,
so they’d sit on the great wall again and again
in plain view of all, and they’d have a long chat
(though Humpty took care not to chew Bacon’s fat).
One day many tourists (Humpty later was told),
had not eaten breakfast, so hungry and bold,
they cut up his friend in bits small enough
to fry him for lunch. Humpty took the news rough.
He went up to the wall where he’d sat with his friend
every day of his life, knowing how things must end.
It’s no mystery now why he had a great fall.
With no Bacon, poor Humpty just ended it all!
July 5, 2018 for The Mystery of Humpty Dumpty Contest of Faraz Ajmal
Your fingers around my soul.
So, I was convicted innocently
Worn out, pallid and tired, brooding
in a mire of self-pity, blighted by uninspiring events
of the shallow life of an innocent convict.
Disenchanted, but I knew the culprit.
“I own your signature.” I whispered.
I languished in a narrow prison cell,
contemplating the day, I would leave
that hollow incumbency of a dreary life.
Time out. The grounds were empty. I was kept alone,
walking around in my languid manner, indifferent,
a psychotic self-imposed dementia.
Time in, the grounds deserted,
back to the cell, they call my home,
staring vacantly into the desolate void,
waiting like a cat that hunts its prey,
crouching still as death to deliver death.
One day they'll open the outer shell
of my cocoon and send me out,
into a changed world. Then, perhaps
I'll come alive and begin my quest.
I’ll deliver his famous gift to him.
“I’m a vampire rose.” Deadly.
I’ll deliver the gift to the one
who betrayed me and have my revenge.
Placed 2
The haunting strains of "Ashokan Farewell" keep racing thro' my brain.
'Tis a fitting requiem for those who bore the agonizing pain,
Of bidding a sad farewell at many a humble cabin door,
As young men were called to serve in the American Civil War.
Its poignant theme wafts as a gentle zephyr o'er the countless graves,
Of gallant men who faced Death's Scythe in unfaltering waves.
Men who wore either blue or gray and unselfishly gave their all,
Lie sleeping 'neath hallowed soil awaiting Gabriel's triumphant call.
Each time I hear those mournful chords played on the violin,
Tho' 'tis decades later, I feel melancholy for grieving next-of-kin,
And for their heroes left upon the field of strife, lonely, bereft, forlorn;
"Ashokan Farewell" is a sad lament for those who were left behind to mourn.
Every time I hear that tune, I'm reminded and left to wonder,
Why brothers tore this nation, this beacon of hope, asunder.
Thanks to one man's vision and unshakeable resolve,
A united and stronger nation would once again evolve.
Antietam, Bull Run, Manassas, Spotsylvania, Gettysburg,
Fort Sumpter, Shiloh and the formidable bluffs of Vicksburg;
O'er these now peaceful battlegrounds, once ravaged by shot and shell,
At eventide can be faintly heard, the solemn dirge of "Ashokan Farewell."