Long Slider Poems
Long Slider Poems. Below are the most popular long Slider by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slider poems by poem length and keyword.
Slither Slider Sludge
from the quagmire to the dust
we stand to face the mountain
with the rage of shadows past
I am anger I am pain
I heard the shadows
felt the rain
caste the feelings out in vain
Listen to the words I say
feel the warmth of summers day
we fight again a waste of time
why should it be this way
Slither Slider Sludge
perhaps we leave the dust
a ray of light a slight decay
perhaps I see the light of day
We took unto this home of ours
a child of the night
a child caste in shadows past
his light of slivers plight
His cry within the wilderness
I could not turn away
and yet with money speaking
we could not have him stay
Begone the the thoughts of money
I could not turn away
I could hear, the child heart crying
I had to let him stay
my heart reached out to cover him
in mantels of my soul
together we must shoulder then
the defects of our gaols
And yet we see the start of light
the growth of wisdoms road
as school results begin to shake
the devil from the toad
I took too many risk on love by itself long with, had my heart. Played with by too, many men.
I took too many stabs into my heart by, the same type of men. I attract I took a leap,within believing every word from them. Just to find out it was all based on lies.
I took too many risks on others knowing that, they were no good for me.
I took too many risks on the wrong group of men. That know that's all I see in men, that I start to talk to.
I took too many risks on snakes that slider there, way from blaming everything on me.
I took too many risks on falling in love then, fall out.
I took too many risks that could've lead me, 6 feet under.
I took too many risks but not enough on, myself.
Even though none of the pitchers hablan espanol,
you have to keep the game under control.
Curve, slider, sinker, you’re the one to make the call.
Most of the time, you want a good old fastball.
It takes a strong and smart catcher without a doubt.
You work to get each and every opposing batter out.
This is the one hundred and sixty-two game world that’s real.
Sometimes, that runner on first may be tempted to steal.
There he goes on his way to second base.
You throw a laser over there without haste.
The runner is out as the tag is made.
These are some of the things you do to get paid.
If you keep on doing your job, you are here to stay.
Hopefully, your team will win the game today.
I am neither
good nor bad
I flirt with the devil
and dance with angels
high octane is my adrenaline...
labels just don't stick to me.
I am neither
selective nor indiscriminate
I am a willing accomplice
with mischievous imps
and frolic with the likes of cherubim...
play boxes have no boundaries, no sides
I am neither
moderate nor extreme
not even mediocrity is my stance
I swing high, I swing low
between the edges
and stretched out wide
I am neither
polarity nor yin and yang
Never on a slider scale
Bird mentality is my desire
Any contradictions ....
Label me when I'm dead,
If you wish!
I stepped up to the plate,
with my old, familiar stance,
thinking my set routine,
would parry the pitcher’s prance.
The first was a curved ball,
curiously spun with such intrigue.
I watched it drift in, then away,
off the plate. A ball!
The next was a fast-ball, right on line.
I swung too early, too locked up in dreams,
Convinced I was right, as ever, this time!
A Strike! Being right on line. It ain't divine!
I saw the third pitch dip out of the hand,
I flinched with doubt, opting out, I folded.
It was a knuckle ball! I bailed too fast —
Missed the moment, let it pass! Strike 2!
A slider sent, brought my memories to the fore,
I thought back to what I'd done before.
When the ball leather smelled so fresh.
Sure enough a Hit, but alas, a Foul.
The fifth came cloaked in abject silence.
No wind, no banter, just hollow air.
I was frozen out, by the silent treatment,
Left waiting, waiting, burning insane.
I swung too late! Phew! Ball 2!
Then came the soft one, slow and low,
a change-down thrown, as pitcher sunk low —
with eyes half-closed, head bowed,
in a sorta 'It's ME Time' trance!
A hit! It soared, the crowd went wild —
A Home run for the inner child!
Now my stance, is more tuned,
more still, more considered.
Reading each pitch as it comes,
not too heartfelt nor willful.
Not naming the pitch, nor predicting it,
just knowing when to wait,
to bend and meld, to get an even break.
At 11,000 feet, open the door
Right hand, left hand, hold onto the frame
The skies spans forever, the wind does roar
Right foot out, left hand to the strut of the plane
Right hand next out, left foot on the step
Adrenaline flowing, try to slow your breath
Sliding hands further out, get a good grip
Relax, it's not like you're falling to your death
Feet off the step, you're a kite in the air
Push your arch, hold your position
Wait for instruction, jump master stare
He smiles and says GO! This is the mission
Hurdling down, hold your arch, keep your count
Stay symmetrical, now reach. Now pull!
Don't forget to take a look around
Your canopy flies, stay in control
You check up above, the slider is down
Reach up for your toggles to steer
Checking the wind, you spin slowly around
Up here in the silence, there's nothing to hear
You see the horizon, are one with the clouds
There's nothing quite like this, nothing so grand
First flying, now floating, you say aloud
I wish I would never have to land.
SUTAIH
H * H
I * I
A * A
T * T
U * U
S * S
And then it unfolded like a zipper that opened
teeth gaping through hollows worse for wear
top stop loosened dichotomy schisms exposed
slider with no way to go crying out for the past
time for perspective and to turn over the page
S * S
U * U
T * T
A * A
I * I
H * H
Am I missing something the aperture?
Should I weigh in with an anagram or
break the interruption suspend the breach
mind the gap right there at the interval?
DEPARTURE
ENRAPTURE
RECAPTURE
CLOSURES
JUNCTURE
HARMONY
Not everything broken needs to be mended
paradigms shift chasm is there for a reason
an open wise person searches new meaning
when things fall apart and repairs breakage
who needs a zipper when needle and thread
play with buttons and rearranges their needs
06th February 2021
Dedicated to the Officers and crew of
USS Columbia (SSN 771)
Goodbye Sun
We are welcomed by men in
immaculate whites
Through a hatch
we descend a steep ladder
into "The Last Slider"
From a narrow corridor we enter
into the brain and nerves
of this vessel-
To my untrained eye the confusion
of cables overhead is bewildering
This black ship of stealth
tracks the world outside,
silently invisible itself
Rows of monitors, sonar devices
high powered periscopes
all with a myriad of buttons to push-
A marvel of technology -
yet men are the heart and soul
of this great ship
They are Submariners
They say goodbye to the sun
for months on end
Week after harrowing week they spend
day after day on grinding drills
where the only thrill is their daily meals
Systematic, methodical
They are human- in a ship of war
but a ship that exists for freedom
The Officers guide us through each section
The ship at rest has released them
from an endless commitment but
with a practiced eye
they are still attuned to every detail
Commanders almost prescient
so in step with every procedure
they can sense malfunction in their sleep
I notice the commitment to excellence
I note the pride behind the
preparations for our inspection
Blue curtains with the ships insignia
are drawn on bunk beds
Shiny copper engine parts, clean bright paint
reflects the values of those who
keep their vessel, ship-shape
Now I stand in the nose where the
weapons rest
The metal tubes look benign
for all the power they contain
Ironically in rows, directly above,
the crew's bunks are located-
in tiers of three -even sleep
is regimented
Photos of family are the only
human touch in
this dark, black, whale
of a vessel
The sense of duty for each individual
seems overwhelming
There is a spirit of complete trust
between them
This is a world for honorable men
"Victory is Silence"
I try to imagine daily living
the self-containment
the steely discipline
the choosing to go forward in the face of
uncertainty
Precision and man - morphing
The pact between Submariners is
absolute.
They move as one.
BRIAN'S CHOICE K,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 5/19/2020 12:08:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
3rd Place
These words mean much to me;
If you read them let them bless you;
Such a lovely remedy, melody;
These words are true;
Graphically harmonizing rhyme;
Controversy find so unkind;
Words cascading down from heaven;
By the sounds of the beating drums;
No one hums, nor comes;
To the spoken recital;
Open idol
Plane on auto pilot;
Words stutter and slider;
Sentences come from inside me;
Graphically harmonizing rhyme;
Controversy find so unkind;
Words cascading down from heaven;
By the sounds of the beating drums;
These words are true;
Such a lovely remedy, melody;
If you read them let them bless you;
These words mean much to me;
12/16/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Excited to be given freedom to play,
I run to my art studio and begin dabbling.
I have already created thirteen new
canvases – penned and ready to fill in with paint.
My dogs are pawing at the glass slider, wanting entrance.
I allow them to come in, but warn them they will have
to sit. Buddy, my large puppy gets under my arm,
flinging it into the air. I let him back out.
Sophie Helen, my cocker is twelve years older.
She lies down, because she wants to stay.
Buddy knocks on the slider and I let him back in.
The dogs lie rear end to rear end, not facing each other.
I telephone some friends, listen to them on speaker
while I paint. My heart is singing. Painting is my meditation.
It is a terrific time to listen and encourage others
while I play, and it makes my dogs happy.