Long Sized Poems
Long Sized Poems. Below are the most popular long Sized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sized poems by poem length and keyword.
From Chicago to Tampa Bay in a Ford Granada some time in the mid- 70's. Unfortunately, we were not interested in mountains, because we took interstate 75 and drove through Tennessee 'at night'. We felt the elevation but never saw the Smoky Mountains.
As we proceeded south, our four year old kept asking, "Are we there yet?" Can you blame her? We should have had at least one mountain story to tell; and why did we not take time to enjoy the healthy smoke? We arrived in Tampa by way of mostly 'flat lands'.
On another occasion we drove from northern Mississippi to Atlanta. While there, we not only viewed, but also trekked until we grew tired. The visit on 'Stone Mountain' was a good one as we also enjoyed the beautiful water fall.
Fast forward to 1981, and find me driving a '79 chevy chevette from San Francisco to Lake Tahoe. Oh, what a ride! From just above sea level to over 9,000 feet and the worst head ache of my life. Our second child who was then four was on board, but he was head ache free. Nice sceneries, and mountains aplenty, but I should have had my head examined; not because of the elevation, but because I had the audacity to drive a Chevette.
Later in the early 80's with my entire family on board, I headed up another mountain in Marin County, Ca. This time there was plenty of room and power in an 8 cylinder full sized Chevy van. Just beyond the Golden Gate is Mt. Tamalpais, but we never reached the top, because my wife changed her mind.
My most recent mountain experience was a scenic view from a Jumbo Jet. Returning from a vacation by way of Portland, I had a nice view of *Mt. St. Helen 36 years after the mountain blew its top in 1980. No, that does not make me a 'Mountain Man'; but from where I sit 30 feet above sea level, it is rather refreshing.
08052017PSContest, Mountains, Julie Rodeheaver
*Or Was it Mt. Hood?
Struck down powerless with astonishment
as the Brocken spectre took its shape
forming one shadow breathing out
from the misted oceans a fierce bitter wind whispers
curling cries around the mountain howling suffering
Where an odd sound echos strangely
three times striking the spine with ice trembles
Then the crunch of lightening suddenly strikes this note
darkness causes uneasy feelings
when the shield of light is blinding
to the lost yet to be found wanting
opposite the sun enormous magnified shadows
begging to be seen casting lots upon the surfaces of clouds opposite
one head crowned figure emerges surrounded by glowing halo-like rings
the formation of glory rises from within shaping destiny
Where rings of coloured light appear directly opposite the sun
when sunlight finally meets a cloud uniformly-sized
water droplets refresh the misted vision held bathed
.
A mind,
I think,
should be a brain
still in a living organic body
in homeostatic cooperative relationship.
A human mind
could become mid-sized, just right,
and left,
not too hot, not too cold,
not too light, not too dark and heavy,
yet sometimes too complexly dense with chaos theories
rather than synergetic creolizing hypotheses
favoring thermodynamically ego/eco-balancing biosystems,
relying on double-binding feedback loops
of endosymbiotic cooperativity
within ectosymbiotic acclimations
without
Maintaining polypathic health
of multiculturing interreligious relationship,
dipolar interdependence
slowly synergizing wealth of further enculturations
into even more polypathic bicameral balance.
A mid-sized just-right humane ecosystem
is a horrible potential to waste
to too-closed off entropic loss
of regenerative life energy,
dissipating off into cognitive v affective dissonance,
both verbal and non-verbal dissolution,
near death without open-systemic maturing time.
Aging is post-revolutionary degenerative maturation,
quieting grace.
Suicide and depression,
repression and ecopolitical suppressions
are pre-revolutionary,
before their regenerate maturing fullness
of fertile time.
A mind
is a brain
within a fertile
well-timed
pre- and post-revolutionary
sacred acclimating body.
Thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool
upon a midnight clear
full moonlight sonata
flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from
whereabouts unknown
wove disenchanting spell
atop me shaded noggin more'n
fifty ruffle lake suns
Dorian Gray pictured here
to fore, awakened
from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper
fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent,
mutilated spindled
various horrid aspects of
myself nine inch
rusty nails impaired
which, aghast at such
creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged,
limned paragon did wear
a grotesque disfigured Joeseph Conrad
lost within heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this
soaked silhouette half bare
from waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing
self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once
bronzed handsome physique
now grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made
for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be
temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth
with **** face on that card!
I'll be quiet as I'm leaving
I'll get you a latte
Don't ask me why, there's a big surprise
Awaiting you today
I'll be back by 7
Be ready at the door
Bring a little bag with you
Some basics, not much more
I've rented us a cabin
A weekend getaway
It's nestled in a valley
A cozy place to stay
It looks up at the mountains
A frozen pond's nearby
But we'll just view them from indoors
It's much too cold outside
I ordered up some hickory wood
A large wood stove is there
Blankets, pillows, satin sheets
A big two-person chair
Books galore, crosswords too
We can just stay in
Whatever you want I'll do it
Either way I win
A country farmer's market
A yarn mill right next door
In the mornings I'll get coffee
From the little general store
And if you're hungry tell me
I'll bring back different things
And then I'll take out two guitars
We'll play but just you sing
A wall-sized picture window
Looks out on a deck
At night the stars are countless
Each one a tiny speck
A brilliant, twinkling diamond
Bright and crystal clear
Gemstones representing
My thoughts of you held dear
And when the weekend's over
When the clock says time to go
I'll hope you liked the plans I made
They were all for you, you know?
It is 2 pm
on a hot and humid Sunday
in June.
I am cleaning walls
and floors,
cabinets
and doors,
and laying newly steamed rugs
in a new place
of one floor living
more suitably down-sized
from three floor struggling
for my disabled son
and aging me.
My husband
for the past twenty four years
calls with Happy Father's Day!
This, like an anniversary ritual,
surprising reminder between us two Dads
not sure how we are doing
together.
But, better than apart.
Surprised,
I admitted
my failure to remember
perhaps because,
for me,
for us?
everyday is fathers' day
and night
of secularized care taking
As every mothers' day
and night
may become sacred care giving
As schools of male
and female,
more precisely male or female,
fish fail to remember
wet climates breathe water
in and out again,
care filling
and care emptying,
care giving
and care taking
within mundane
everyday habitual atmosphere
on this living
enculturing Earth
Which lives healthier
as we become more everyday
compassionate care givers
and takers
listening in
and speaking out
for our present
past
and future Earth
and EarthTribes,
Interdependent species
Organic holonic bodies
Extending multicultural families
Humane repopulations
at appropriately grateful scale
for peaceful
nutritional
energetic, yet care-full,
EarthJustice
Sometimes my unlanguaged son
sounds like a constipated chicken
trying to lay a great egg.
Yet he also roars
like an anticipating rooster
toward the light,
raising and praising east
and up and out
and west,
eager for this new caretaking
every Earth day.
There's nothing funnier than a cross-eyed chicken
With legs the size of your arm
The Chicken Emporiums would sure love to know
The name of this progressive farm
Aside from the unnerving cross-eyed feature
The implications are really immense
Imagine a leg on your plate so humongous
You wouldn't know where to commence
The cross-eyed feature might cause some concern
If the patrons viewed this poor old bird
Before it was rendered suitable for your gullet
It sure looked hilariously absurd
The cross eyes were caused by trying to eject
A super sized extra large egg
Probably gave the poor brave bird a hernia
Before passing it, for mercy it begged
Such is the way of us civilized humans
Thinking of our bellies all day
Paying no attention to these cross-eyed chickens
As they dance to the hen house ballet
© Jack Ellison 2015
Even though days of life lived with
(all my children now grown) ail
ling soul of stifled for want of indulging
in ordinary experiences bewail
ling deprivation of accomplishing
healthy milestones regret a cold detail
reminding me as aging process speeded
as if an onset of late progeria fail
lings in this once skinny as twig youth,
now thinning hair bothersome - hail
yes (suspected cause underactive thyroid,
blood test will confirm), a jail
unseen by anybody even me finds spontaneity
bound from within this male,
whose counterproductive antics sought
to compensate for lost time did imp pale
and figuratively crucify myself at the
emotional expense of "star student" rail
ling (recent time gone by), thee (to her)
unforgivable hurt, the stuff of a true tale,
this papa does resign himself unintentional
misery untraversable unbridgeable gulf
the expanse of a yawning Rhode Island
sized Leviathan whale.
oh...thank you for the Trader Joe's gift card
this dirt poor mortal doth leave ye
with his cumulative loving re:guard
aware hiatus of estrangement (FROM ME)
the sad story of my life with mom, dad,
two loving sisters, who tried so hard
to reach out only to be rebuffed, as well
Abby, Eden, Shana deserving of so
much more joy...sorry girls dada starred
and created in his own living nightmare -
alone in a wilderness more bleak than Siberia,
within a solo battle pierced by my
own Damoclean Sword!
Bar none, the eagle, sought.
Two par as golf ball hits the green.
Akin to sailing a yacht -
money speaks on the screen.
He was a swinger, growing up,
sundry-sized clubs in hands.
Would receive jug, jacket, cup.
Victorious, he’d sell brands.
His first eagle was a high -
pop…pop, onto the green.
Spot on coordination, hand-eye -
against the odds, only thirteen.
Camille sprang for an albatross,
a show off, a trophy at thirteen -
a rare double-eagle; shows who’s boss.
Student’s million-to-one shot was keen.
The shot heard ‘round the earth.
She’s activating all kinds of smarts.
How much will Kenosha girl be worth?
The pop…pop breaking hearts.
Country living, casual, comfortable, mashed potatoes,
Meat loaf, corn on the cob, and plenty of butter, oozing
Gardens are blooming with vegetables, tasty and fresh,
Succulent tastes popping out in unexpectedly wonderful ways,
Barnyard cats are squatting behind bushes waiting for
Blue and red birdsongs to swoop in, catching a gray wren.
A welcoming porch sits waiting, warmed by the sun, admiring
The gardener in the over-sized straw hat.
She bides her time, knowing she will be more popular after supper.
Aromatic lilacs wafting scents in from the side porch,
Butterflies flit amongst the Rose of Sharons
Robin chases cardinal away from the feeder,
thinking she has had a long enough turn.
Blue jay makes his move. I look into the sun for a second;
wondering what she is thinking.
Perhaps she is admiring my gorgeous yard.
Other people vacation at resorts.
I stay here. Country living.
Nothing prettier or more
Delightful.