Long Slide Poems
Long Slide Poems. Below are the most popular long Slide by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slide poems by poem length and keyword.
Ghosting
Online friends or family,
So selfish,they.
You could be dead and buried,
How would they know?
These are your best friends,
They loudly pronounce,
They deceitfully say,
Who cannot check emails for
180 days?
Their sidewalk fell in, the washing
machine broke,
Their 40 year old kids have a toothache,
Or in need of a bloke.
Totally, a joke.
Here's my advice, it's childish,not nice!
Tell them to take off their pants
And slide on the ice.
Better yet, change your phone number
and Addy, too!
One need not be ghosted on this
internet zoo.
Just smarten up.
Ghosting is bad for you physically
and mentally.
Panagiota Romios
8/30/2019
POOP - TALE : for contest
No embarrassment , everyone poops
So relaxed is the feel after all 's out
No gold and riches can ever buy such feel
I am sure all will agree silently though!
We get that feel for free as nature calls
In body, poop factory is so well- fitted
Based on our lifestyle it is regulated
Frequency n' timing our habits decide
As far as we breathe , we have to poop
No matter where you are, who you are...
How many times daily varies with species and diet...
Bamboos and honey diet makes Panda bears poop,
more than a forty times in a single day !
In other species range follows bell shaped curve
A balanced input-output cycle continues..
Doctors diagnose ailments examining poop,
Sausage shape is ideal poop the doc opines..
Mothers of kids worry if they cry while they poop
Too much delay makes happy a trader in laxatives!
Night soil in fields have made a fertile land
Poop of cattle folk is a manure too good
Everyone poops and is so useful too...
Deadlines and work pressure,meetings with boss
Petty tussles with friends or your own spouse.
Ask for a break saying you need to poop
Instantly you are permitted and you may slide out
Enjoy this break behind washroom doors !!
No more shy business, everyone poops!
Engrossed in reading a suspense thriller,
Or watching the climax of a movie horror
As soon as poop siren raises alarm, you got to go!
Ultimate rule is please don't control
Happily you poop poop poop and flush out !
FOR CONTEST- EVERYONE POOPS
Sponsored by:Roy Jerden
Submitted by: Anulaxmi Nayak
Date: 9th August 2015
glossary:
Bell shaped curve: the normal distribution curve
which has values of all ranges and takes a bell-shape.
He-art
Iron heart; cage no free thinker.
Iron maiden has never gone away.
Question everything; search forever deeper.
In the end we are all looking to find away.
Plastic heart; turn the vinyl record on.
Croaking voices, broken strings; leave us…
Stone heart; there will never be a final setting sun.
Today is forever, so continue to speak of love.
Glass heart; shatter my tears against your kiss.
I am see through when it comes to loving you.
Scratch your nails down my back; give all you have to give.
I want to slide into your mind; clearly this is my truth.
Fire heart; all I can give you is my undying passion.
This love is too hot to lack compassion.
Wooden heart; I want to be a real boy.
Walk with sandals (full of holes); the last straw on a camel’s back.
I am pining for the fjords, before I am destroyed,
By the inferno of lies they tell; forever to remain…forever sad.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
The trees in the park today
Swaying in the breeze
Saying goodbye to summer
And hello to autumn,
Clothed in their display of
Greens and browns and
Russets and yellows
That drift and flutter
And slide to the ground
To form a soft carpet
At the footpaths edge
That rustles and crackles
And whispers underfoot
To accompany the sheer
Pleasure of walking
Flat footed through it.
Perhaps this is a gift to say
We are starting to prepare
For the sleep of winter.
We’ll be back in the spring
Goodbye for now.
And so the trees in the park
Settle down for their long rest.
I walk that park day after day
And watch for the first signs
Of new green leaves and shoots
That welcomes back the spring
And signals the start of a
New cycle of natural rebirth
And anticipating
Written: August 9, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Unseeking Seeker.
******************
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
******************
We are the shimmer; darkness cannot reclaim.
Flickers of fire on fathomless ocean's frame.
A silver silhouette against the scythe stone,
A borrowed brightness feigning as our own.
The moon quiets the lake, then lets it speak.
Standing reflected, a promise we never meek
We name the glimmer, whisper "this is real",
Holographic worlds—slide beyond a thick veil.
Body is dust that divaricates dawn-lent flame,
Seeing self as secrets with flesh called by name.
We gather our shades—shield what won't stay,
While stark certainties leach their hue to gray,
What seems solid is but a palimpsest stream,
Matter made radiant by an evanescent dream.
The mountain, the moth, the marrow, the star
Are one vibration haunting forms afar.
And when the last light slips from the land,
When time lets all faint-shaped figures disband,
Nothing is lost in the vastness we fear—
The wave folds back to the ocean ever near.
Perhaps existence isn't alabaster grace,
Still, its elfin alchemy we chase and trace.
A thousand lives tangled in an eolithic breath,
One archetype shifting shape beyond death.
You came—not as an Olympus-evoked ghost.
Nor as a celestial fire from genesis frost.
But silent silence invaded my Elysium pen.
As ink flared fact fibers, fathoming zen.
As the morn's sun shines through the pines
Then tries to hideand behind clouds slide.
Gray clouds amass and with wispy clouds twine
Astride fog and damp ride the rollingtide
PINES upon moisture DINE with PRIDE
Lifting silhouetted arms HIGH
Needles with the sky secrets CONFIDE
About the love of the great ADONAI
The beauty present Amplified
By the sky's canvas painted FINE.
A master painter has BEAUTIFIED
When viewing SKY, reach for cloud NINE
This day I would not MODIFY
As the SKY changes with each SCAN
My heart flies and with Him ALLIES
My soul His blessings quickly SPAN
Since this morning softly BEGAN
With Whip-Poor-Will's cadence so SHRILL
Much has passed and changes in PLANS
Beyond the Dove's sweet coo high on the HILL
Across the yard a stand of PECAN
Blackbirds and crows MILL in this morn's STILL
Not much I'd rather have THAN
A morn of peace and quiet for my soul's FILL
As a slight breeze stirs the ceiling FANS
The windchimes echo their hollow SOUND
From bamboo's depth's to metal BLAN
Nothing to match the baying HOUND
The rolling GROUND, to the creek BOUNDS
Where life CIRCLES, then the creek PULLS
The raging water flows wild with RESOUNDS
Those waters rush 'til the ocean is FULL
unfinished..........
shines
pines
behind
twine
dine
fine
nine
hide
slide
astride
ride
tide
pride
confide
amplified
beautified
high
Adonai
sky
modify
allies
scan
span
began
plans
pecan(can be pronounced pe can or pe con)
than
fans
blan
shrill
hill
mill
still
fill
sound
hound
ground
bound
resounds
circle
full
pull
It is said that deep in the forest green
And close to the silent flowing river
Where mystical green flowers lean
Along the banks marked with silver
Soft and damp with the dew shower
There lives a clan of ladybirds
Small and green and dotted with purple
They fly around dancing in herds
Tasting the nectar from the mighty maple
Which grow along the bank, in ample
And many a times when the night turns dark
And the moon shines silvery and bright
The ladybirds would be seen in an arc
Singing a sweet song of delight
Of pure love of a lady and a knight
And when the summer is tired and sleepy
And the golden buttercups filled with dew
The ladybugs gently slide under the canopy
To luxuriously bathe in this nature’s brew
And come out relaxed and shining new
3/4/13
The elevator shudders -
then a muted ping as narrow doors slide open,
the conveyance only lifts one person at a time,
when it descends it is always empty.
I've been here before,
the stairs are always urine stained
condoms lay like squashed snails
on the cracked concrete.
It is a place for secretive degradations
a covert whereabouts
where shame wears thin its painted grin.
Nobody climbs this stairwell
it winds and ascends - a hollow intestine
wrapped around an echoing tower.
I'm on the wrong floor,
a small sign on the bare grey wall
reads, "wrong floor."
I recall too late that there is no 'right' floor
just living-spaces cut into damp breeze blocks
Stagnant light pools in neon-lit halls,
and the still air hums with a low electric buzz.
Key in hand I search for an address
that is a denominator
of my personal blood type.
We came here as refugees gladly,
the city had grown remorselessly alien
but now we are exiled,
lost in this space that rises upward
beyond any high of hope,
it reaches into a darkness,
a murk we suspect is a buried basement
and not a rise at all.
Far, far below, on the other side
of a smeared, tightly-shut window
shadow people hide from themselves
where as usual a ‘seek and find’ rages on.
There at ground floor level
the elevator doors do not open,
not for anyone.
The people of the tower are most grateful to be
sequestered inside their own hollowed-out hive
free from the streets
and the always perilous threat
of their own collective dreams.
The pierce, the flame of gypsy eyes, that roam
about your cheeks aflame, that throb at knees.
The negligee reveals bride’s honeycomb —
a poetry of bees, posthumously.
Recover not from burn of jealous lips —
Soft greed of ruby smooth, the tender slide,
the way she moves - compare to buoyant ships —
they trim your sails, so succulent and wide.
You must come down to earth — the dock awaits
its berth. Noncompliant lovers doth crash
against the water’s edge with crazy eights.
It’s much too soon to squash its tease and splash.
Her eyes astir — their closed next to your heart.
The wild rose of her hair — your counterpart.
2/28/2020
She lay there quiet, alone and still
Surrounded by the trees
Resting silent upon the hill
As daylight slowly flees
The frame was torn and weathered down
The boards were soft from time
All was empty without a sound
She stood long past her prime
A distant past unknown to me
I’m sure she once stood proud
If she could talk your eyes might see
A braggart talking loud
Resting near the western border
On our farm I would roam
Through the woods and gate in order
To find the barn alone
The Old Back Barn my Dad had said
Was full of stories lost
But aging now she looked instead
Like she had paid the cost
Now an empty shell still stands
So barren and alone
But once she met our harsh demands
Her value was unknown
The talks I had there with my Dad
Surrounded by the trees
Now bring a smile and makes me glad
For love he showed for me
My friends would come to visit me
And in that empty place
We’d laugh and knew that it would be
A time that we’d embrace
A blast of cold would freeze the pond
That sat right by her side
But we would always just respond
By jumping on to slide
And in the fall we’d shoot our guns
The targets on the door
Talking about the days of fun
We could not wait for more
Those days now ring of measured time
Back then we never thought
That one day we would pass our prime
Such memories can’t be bought
We’d talk of how our life would be
We’d really spin a yarn
Remembrance flooding back to me
I loved that old Back Barn.