Long Shooting Poems
Long Shooting Poems. Below are the most popular long Shooting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shooting poems by poem length and keyword.
Life is a woman with twilight eyes, wrapped in dresses of unspoken dreams,
Walking barefoot through gardens of time, her steps murmur the sonnets of the ephemeral,
In a silent dance, a waltz of shadows and light, glancing over her shoulder,
On paths where leaves rest, forever falling from the trees of our memory.
She unbraids her hair in waves of melancholy, weaving it with shooting stars,
Memories cast on the night sky, like tears burning on the cheeks of heaven,
She changes her lipstick from the hues of mystical sunsets, kissing the cheeks of her hurried lover,
An eternal Adam, lost in her unseen desires, embracing the moment and eternity.
She, Life, stretches her longing arms, arching over bridges of inverted time,
Embraces the moments, melting them into echoes of laughter and weeping, spinning them into spirals,
A harlequin of fate, with masks of joy and sorrow swapped in the glades of dreams,
Where do you lead us, oh Life, shading our paths with your veil of destiny?
In autumn days, she gathers the rusty leaves, kissing them tenderly, leaving imprints,
The bittersweet blend of sadness and joy, imprinted on threads of thought and resignation,
A nymph of melancholy, with a heart wrought by nostalgia and untamed longing,
Seeking the roots of happiness in the scorched landscapes of the past, where flowers no longer bloom.
Ah, Life-woman, you are the eternal puzzle of our days, questions without answers,
Holding in your hand the key to love and the lock of loss, piercing us with your paradoxes,
In a hypnotic dance, a flow of consciousness that flows, endlessly, in infinite rivers,
Like the wings of the butterfly searching for light in the darkness of your sweet intersections.
With every breath, you dress us in unwritten stories, in your tales of winter and summer,
Your melancholy coming over us, like a mantle of kisses and whispered breezes,
Through the smoke of lost moments, we always glimpse your changing face,
Phantom of the eternal feminine, Life-maiden, Life-lady, Life-woman.
A shooting star has to fall far,
Starting its decent to the surface,
Crashing down with purpose,
A service to all in sight,
A bright trail chases flight,
Falling through the dark night,
Fighting the resistance,
Persistent is the path,
The aftermath yet to come,
Only some will see it fall,
A small part of the picture,
A fixture in the mind,
Reminding of a time,
Climbing in through memories,
A shooting star in the breeze,
Disappearing behind the trees,
Planting wishes like seeds,
Decrees from entities,
Teasing possibilities,
A pleasing thought,
Taught of what could be,
Seeing the fire of desire,
Rise higher in the heart,
Being the part you play,
If just for a moment of the day,
Staying true to you are,
A shooting star,
Trying to see how far,
You can fall from Divine,
Until you are able to shine,
Assigned to serve,
Aligned with your purpose,
A service to the Heavens,
Leaving the remnants of your time.
I feel fire's forces from afar,
and burn to grasp the answers
to this tamed self, taught at last,
by searing flames unfastened.
Freed from fast, one day we'll feel
sacred touch all burnt hearts heal,
and all the straws at which we grasped
be long forgotten, deeply buried.
Life's sad times exposed, yet brief,
mind's memories of pain and grief,
will hang a final fireworks display
to linger faint glitter blown away
within the aura of the Milky Way.
One instant of life's dismay dismissed
as one second in all eternity's bliss-
A shooting star's delicate trail burnt unseen
in future's eternal, glorious being.
13/10/2017
Looking back
I,m reminded of the glowing egos
Finding a crowd that was cluttered
on once friendly ground
Having chosen a leader, for them to speak
My thoughts now distant
from the years of collective mass
The grounds they staked out for dominance
seeking out those perceived to be emotionally
or physically weak
claiming dominion for them not to trespass
No one had yet told them tomorrow they'll be older
and the day after older still
They had thoughts only of a continuous youth
where hormones out raced sense
In this realm what was important
was the status of their position
in their chosen flock wearing the uniform
they so desired to find a place
in the collective
to sit if briefly on the throne of illusion
to be King in the limited scope of perception
and feel the rising emotion of satisfaction
convinced of their own immortality
in a false world created to understand
the changes their own growth has painted in their mind
as they stumbled towards adulthood
unaware that most of their life
will be spent in a real world of adults
and the memories of a lost kingdom
once ruled by sixteen year old youths
will vanish from the face of the Earth
like a shooting star
in the vastness of a black round sky
3/21/17 contest School Yard Politics
A ripened plum, still warmed to touch
and taste of summer sun.
Half ripe tomatoes, breathed with greenhouse opened door
before the senses gather more when picked,
firm at first, then squelched between the lips
shooting sideways, some dribbled pips.
Cherries, on their wishbone stalks,
give stolen pleasure sweet and brief,
just in reach on shady summer walks where overhanging branch
holds ruby treasures for the cherry thief.
Skylark, a solitary speck in cloudless sky
seen when lying in the meadow flowers,
so high, so hard to see with naked eye,
yet clear to ear while lazing passing hours,
and with closing eyes, as if nearby.
Summer breeze, teasing face with whisps of hair.
Bare arms, bare legs tickled in the waving grass,
seduced by soft caress,
summer's touch of gentle stroking air.
Muscles loose and eyelids rest.
Breath breathes in and breath breathes out,
and, with every parting breath, leaves last remaining care.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re young or old,
male or female, able-bodied or disabled,
we all stand with the same shooting [hold],
beginner or experienced [to get enabled].“
Jo’s an archer who began shooting 2014,
When in June she won mixed team gold,
At the Para World’s in Czech land, been,
And in August at the Euros, got twice gold.
The next year, 2015, in Holland in May,
She won gold again, also women’s bronze,
Women’s team bronze, made a WR, hay,
To make her mark on archery’s lawns.
She describes herself as happy, loyal,
And also dedicated, started in the pool
With her sports journey, where, royal,
She spotted archery to then firmly rule.
Then in the June of 2015 in Czech again,
She won gold in the Para Grand Prix,
The women’s silver and the team, women,
Open Compound, a silver to victory see.
At the World Para Championships, August,
In Germany she took the gold and silver,
For the mixed team and the women’s gust,
Setting four World Records, no blether.
April 2016 saw her win mixed team gold,
And also Ladies gold at the Euro Paras,
In France. Her favourite film, said, told,
Is Lorenzo’s Oil, and Coldplay is class.
Bugs Bunny’s flippant relaxed attitude and what’s up doc line make him funny
Honorary Marine Master Sergeant with his own star on walk of fame, honey.
His Brooklyn accent makes his signature line terrific as does Mel Blanc’s voice.
He is a cultural icon, according to Charles, Patsy, Ted, Sarah and Joyce.
It is a hoot to watch him walk up to Elmer Fudd who is shooting up the house.
Tap him on the shoulder and say “what’s up doc?” as cool as a fed mouse.
Bugs is my total favorite although I like Woody Woodpecker and Taz a lot too.
I think Bugs is particularly exciting, because he pops up out of the blue.
Has the last line many times, and thwarts Elmer Fudd who gets crazy.
One thing for sure, the cartoonists at Looney Tunes were never ever lazy.
A verdant night
consumes my eyes,
beyond is a light
in blackened skies
portals opened
the unseen seen,
shooting comets
develop a dream
A violin cries
of the deepest dark,
winging my heart
sound found its mark
now in the darkness
my apron of sorrow,
is thrown on the ground
draped into tomorrow
I cant my face
up to the moon,
filling my heart
it vibrates to croon
trees of the shade
move without form,
grass is curling
this isn’t the norm
A lonely sparrow
rests on a pole,
through his eyes
I see pure soul
flickering leaves
move on the ground,
the air caresses
as it swirls around
my drying mouth
moves without word,
lips start to speak
but nothing is heard
this magical eve
wrapped into my gaze,
and through my tears
is a beautiful haze
night watchers at peace
are reclining on stars,
they are resting their feet
on the front steps of Mars
I close my eyes
to this spectacular sight,
and relaxing my body
I fade out to white
My roses shoot bullets and my poems never miss like they're shooting blanks
Even though the expression on their face is sometimes blank
Me, I prefer my expressions stank
Faces from the crowd
Metaphors got you high every time these soliloquies get loud
Me, I've always been more on the quiet side
But, I can turn the volume up if need be
Nerves on the inside floating like butterflies but my words will still sting you like a bee
Myself is the only person I can be
So, I look in the mirror as a reminder or to see
You're still that Memphis boy, Texas raised never phased
Well, almost
See I'm not going to act like I have it all together when I don't
But, I'm also not going to act like my sentences aren't well put together, no I wont!
Give me my flowers all roses please, and a paper bouquet if you're a creative because they never die you see
Or should I take another polaroid until you get the picture
I'm the young G.O.A.T. and no I'm not pretending to be
Those who don't understand will always question your brand, asking what's the deal
Then turn right back around and get my words tattooed to their brain or body because this poetry is something you can really feel
To the enemy I'll never kneel
Sin is taking over but I'll never let it win
Because I stay so clean, clean, and fresh even though my shirt is stained
I'll never let this window pain hurt me or slow me down
Because my style can't be matched, not even in a mirror
Tell yourself that every time you look in the mirror
Try to be your best self always
p.s. this is just a poem but I'm gonna bite the bullet if need be...
We are like the shooting stars
Underneath God’s sun.
Speeding down our own life paths
Till our time is done.
Numberless, like bits of dust,
Moving through our space,
All so different, yet alike
In the human race.
Infants first; then life heats up
And we show a glow.
Growing old, we then burn down.
Swiftly our lives go!
Some of us are just plain white.
Some have special hue.
Special ones are yellow, green,
Orange, red or blue.
Few, for good or bad, crash down,
And they’ll always be
Meteorites we recall
Throughout history.
Not remembered always on
Pages of our books,
Are the stars at whom we take
Fondest second looks.
Fireballs, they will burn down too,
But the light they give
Shines the brightest. May we all
As bright fireballs live!