Long Shore Poems
Long Shore Poems. Below are the most popular long Shore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shore poems by poem length and keyword.
Automotive experts clearly agree
Driverless cars are the thing for you and me
How did they arrive at this brilliant conclusion?
Perhaps by illusion or via delusion
Perhaps by a bit of Malthusian confusion
--All I know is it leaves me in deep disillusion
Yo, Honda Corp, Mr. Yamada, did you ask me about it?
Yo, Nissan Corp, Mr. Saikawa, do you think that I tout it?
Yo, Toyota Corp, Mr. Toyoda, can't we live without it?
Yo, Subaru Corp, Mr. Nakamura, why don't you doubt it?
The 'cool corporations' want driverless tech
Not one of them is willing to stick out his neck
Yelling like heck:
"I want my independence
I want my freedom
Whatever sights can be seen
I want to see'm!"--
Not sit in the backseat fiddling with a device
While the bot in the driver's seat ignores his advice
America's highways and byways, her mountains and valleys
Lo, her fields and her meadows, her side streets and alleys
Were meant to be driven, meant to be seen
--Not merely imaged on a tiny phone screen
"See the USA in your Chevrolet
America's the greatest land of all" (Dinah Shore, TV ad, 1950's-60's)
Keep humans in the driver's seat
Spring, Summer and Fall
--Don't slow this country's love affair with the auto to a crawl.
So, all you pundits of prescience, prediction, precision
You fearless-faced forecasters of science-less fiction
Before you commit me and my friends
To a future none of us desires
~ Think twice: Cars may just lose all their buyers
Saw one blazing red leaf on the shimmering Maple,
On my way back from a refreshing stroll,
One Red Leaf - indicated the stark truth,
Fall is tiptoeing with her secret footsteps,
Luminously veiled autumn not far!
Spotted a flock of migrating Geese gliding by -
Are they already departing? Where?
Ravishing crimson Roses beaming
On the bush besides the wooden fence,
A few sad dried petals sprawl dejected at the bottom,
Redbreast Robin in euphoria, still crooning full-throated,
Fleecy warmth of air fleeting away, are birds aware?
Truly intoxicated with the aroma of sunshine,
Even for a moment, do not stop trilling at each other!
Iridescent layered floating clouds, a watercolour painting -
Each one speaks celestial bliss to me,
Mauve and scarlet, amber and crimson - intriguing shapes
All mixed in a gorgeous whirlpool,
Inspire ecstatic rhapsodies in my spirit,
Topaz waves when they break on the wide sandy shore
With thunderous roars.
White-petalled Lily, the final quiet visitor to the garden!
Tranquil and serene, peaceful and mellow,
As if in a pensive meditation,
Exhilarating celebration over for now,
Crispy, chilly, wind waltz with twirling leaves,
I smell scintillating autumn fluttering and frolicking,
Spiralling, swirling in the golden sunset breeze.
August 9, 2020
Amber light spills across the shifting floor,
As trade winds comb the wide, uncrowded shore.
Ghostly sand crabs roam the sunny beach,
Scurrying back to caves just out of reach.
While hermit crabs—like fiddlers in the track—
Carry their borrowed houses on their back.
Seaweed lies scattered along the wet strand,
As busy beach-hoppers leap across the sand.
Left in the wake, a colorful display
Of scattered shells lies brightening the day:
Scotch bonnets shine, and ridged-back cockles gleam,
With bay scallops and coquina in between.
The empty conchs speak secrets of the deep,
While smooth olive shells and sand dollars sleep.
As rushing waves pass over wet sand beds,
The hidden sand fleas duck their tiny heads,
And try to bury deep beneath the foam
Before the pulling water returns home.
Along the surf, the sandpipers race,
Chasing the foam in a frantic pace,
Probing the wet sand for something to eat,
Dancing away on their tiny feet.
Clear water crests in a brilliant blue,
Crashing down with a rhythm true,
Irregular waves roll up the shore,
Then pull back out to the sea once more,
A muffled, deep, resounding ring,
Like diving deep where the ocean swells sing.
Just past the shallows, the water is clear,
Where the lip of the wave starts to appear.
Bright silver mullets dart through the green,
Leaping and twisting, a beautiful scene.
Small striped sweeps ride the tubular curl,
Gliding suspended in a liquid swirl,
Caught for a moment inside the glass,
Watching the beach and the walker pass.
High overhead, the white gulls lean and soar,
Riding the updrafts of the quiet shore.
A noble pelican slows in the sky,
Eyeing the shallows where the breakers lie,
It folds its wings to make the final dive,
While in the dark, the deep sea stays alive.
The sun rose in my sky with promise of color,
on the serene sea I had sailed my boat
to reach far shore
of the aimed dreams.
In rootless sapling the buds of hope haven’t flowered,
they’ve all died in void depth of depression.
Storm of anguish seizes the mariner,
the time is running out fast, the sun will set soon.
When at the rough sea my boat wrecks,
helpless, I ask my god, “Why me”?
The chosen one
gets peace in pain.
June 27, 2018
Contest : Fragmented Verse
Sponsored by : Broken Wings-Dear Heart
(Syllable count checked on howmanysyllables.com)
Herons fragment the mist,
appear and disappear while remaining motionless.
The skiff rocks as a coal barge trundles past.
A dewy sky shivers.
Nowadays he just sits in a boat looking at Ohio.
This morning the sun reached the top of a willow
and got stuck.
He rowed toward the bank thinking to get under the tree,
filled an imaginary pipe full of tangy river smoke,
sucked on the wet air
as he watched the tree struggling with the sun.
For a while it was a tussle, then the willow shook itself
and the sun slipped away like an unmoored ketch.
At first, the sun just hovered like a blanched balloon
then it found a window above the mounded smother
and it rose up like a Choctaw bass
about to mouth a trill of small fry.
He was near to the shore now,
Ohio slanted down to meet him
cattails and reeds scratching the aluminum hull.
A couple of mallards jumped out of nowhere
and flew over his eyes. The clatter of wings
ruffled the chill bank where a dank light had sunk.
His mind followed them for some time
until they settled deep down
amid a wraith-wrapped Kentucky.
A heron slowly rowed the wind
stirring up the vaporous air, Patches of clarity
drifted across sky-high filtering puddles.
Ohio becomes a river town, the huddled houses
have scuttled their roofs upon soggy pathways.
The mossy hulks of an abandoned industry
wallow in a foggy backwash.
Castaway wharfs drip a spatter and smear,
a hand me down script of a yesteryear.
A small blue-collar marina,
beer cans roll on swaying pontoons,
a couple of dry docked rowboats
and canoes.
Truck tires thump harbor chains.
Someone is up early, someone else watches him
gut and clean a large flathead.
On the damp dock cats circle the bones and scales
creep through the miasma
their fur wet and glistening eyes flashing a liquid silver.
The catfish is naked and shorn of the river
a thing to be watched least it return to life
as something beyond the ken of cats and fishermen.
On the ramp he hitches up his straggling life
and drives away from a berth awash
with the haunted cries of Loons and Redtail’s.
Soon he will be back in the patched-up pockets of Ohio
where corn husks snag hoarfrost and rattle
in a fresh rinsing breeze.
Moving to Lake Shore sites was definitely cool
Our home was so large and faced the water
Cameron fixed up an old boat
We held hands on the dock
He taught me how to cast a line and bait a hook
He caught catfish, crappie and sometimes perch
One night our dog got lost so we started a search
Our friends joined us and we went out to look
He'd seen birds and chased the whole flock
Feathers stuck to his coat
In June we had a visit from my granddaughter
It was summer break so she was off school
She had not swam anywhere other than a pool
She wanted to fish so grandpa taught her
She loved to splash, swim and to float
She'd sunbathe on a rock
She didn't like to clean fish but she would help cook
Summer at the lake was the best on earth
01/06/2021
Written for contest, A Little Memory-My Invented Form
Sponsor, Constance La France
Dysfunction in the Denial of Normal
Normal is a bird without a nest, flying through empty minds,
no one has ever caught it in the net of clear reason,
each of us paints it with the brush of dreaming,
with pigments extracted from nightmares and bitter illusions.
Dysfunction is the cradle in which some were born,
stammering in murky waters, without shore, without escape,
they look at normality as a pointless ghost,
a strange monster come from another world, from another horizon.
Who can say whether normal isn't sick?
Whether chaos is the straight line that leads us to truth?
Nature was the only normal one in its sacred spirals,
until man stuck his fingers in the bitter pie.
He searches for the plums insatiably in the world's cake,
leaving behind swamps of tar and suffocations,
the oceans are floating cemeteries of soft plastic,
and the whales drown in thousands of funeral sheets.
Man has killed God in every empty net,
in every bird greased with oil and agony,
created in the divine image, but without the heavenly soul,
he destroys the sacred garden for a paper coin.
Dysfunction is the normal of a species that turns
against its own blood and its own home,
perhaps our disappearance will be the holiest miracle,
Earth will bloom again when the last man fades in the distance.
And then, in the silence without fingers that tear everything,
nature will breathe healed from our madness,
normal will return like a crystal-clear liquor,
without us, without the chaos we carry in our skulls.
I awoke from my slumber
After many weeks
Entranced by unknown
Slept in dormant sleep
But on the morning i awoke
Was not like the rest
There was no sound of the ocean
And its watery zest
The deafness of the breakers
And the waves lapping the shore
Were non existant
Not like the day before
Intrigued by the silence
The noise of it all
As i viewed from my balcony
The ocean in fall
A scape never seen
Befell my eyes
Depths incomprehensible
As deep as our skies
A wreck i once dived
Was visible to me
All life was gone
From its expanse so free
I fall to my knees
As i stare into the abyss
My mind in disarray
Wondering, did it ever exist
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-13.php
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At last I have been cast away...
You've set your sight on newer shore.
My sail's right at half mast today
and there might stay forever more
Though in the past you shone for me,
at last I have been cast away...
Lost in the dark, alone at sea,
tossed like a stone into the bay
You promised you would not betray
but I was made to walk the plank.
At last I have been cast away,
while you take shade upon the bank
So now the anchor that you drew
you think you took too fast aweigh...
Go sink your hook in someone new,
at last. I have been. - Cast away!
==================================
I once could enjoy the songs of the ocean
The beautiful sounds of nature
Moving across the blue waters
But now i can only enjoy the breeze
That moves on my skin by the shore
I once could listen to the angry traffic
At the hooting and cursing in busy streets
Or the market seller competing at their prices
But now i can only watch as they throw hands in the air
And watch how they make faces at each other
I once could hear the clarion call of the kadhi
Calling out to worshipers to go to the mosque
Or could hear as the drummers went by during weddings
But now i can only smell the many scents in the air
Of udhu or the swahili cuisines on the fire
I once could listen to music
And let the song take me off my feet
And dance the young night away
But now i feel the beats from where i sit
And feel the rhythms echoing from my heart
Some days i miss feeling all that
But this days i enjoy the new way,
I had given up on ever feeling the excitement
While all it took was for me to listen closer
Cause it lives with me in my heart
The PO£T