Long Slope Poems
Long Slope Poems. Below are the most popular long Slope by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slope poems by poem length and keyword.
Bridgett Faerie leapt from the flames with a pop and a fizzle
Delighting her elemental dad, Hellfire, wielder of the flame
Her mother gave her the power to make leaves dance
Her purpose not apparent yet, but she was magnificent.
Hair in shades of copper we did not know had been invented.
She stood on the tallest log and stared us down, Then she flew.
New faeries can hardly ever fly. We gasped.
"Forty-one years since I saw a first day flyer,"
one of the elderly brownies whispered.
Bridgett landed next to her.
"Hi!" she said. The whole council laughed.
"She is precocious," one of the faeries said.
Bridgett turned.
I saw her face for the first time;
oval with laughing caramel eyes.
Her nose was a tiny ski slope, a tiny lift at the end. She wrinkled it.
"Where are the leaves?" she demanded. "I want to get started."
Even Hellfire was astounded; he had six daughters but not this one
Until today. She would be a force to be honored and revered.
Her snotty sisters began to make fun of her,
pretending non-jealousy.
Hellfire gave them a look and there was instant silence.
"Are those my SISTERS?" Bridgett shrieked with delight.
She flew over and hugged every one of them. Then she flew away.
How could someone with such tiny feet be so assertive?
No fairy had ever started working on their birthday before today.
Oak tree leaves began floating down into the fire.
The fire popped and crackled faster and faster.
"I love this job!" Bridgett yelled from a branch forty feet up.
Hellfire looked frightened for the first time.
He had never had a daughter who was more like his wife.
His wife flew past him to help her daughter.
That rarely happens on birthing day either.
"A mini-me-of-Enthusiasm Faerie!" someone said.
Others cheered. Someone clapped Hellfire on the back.
"Now there are two of them, he said."Good luck!"
Bridgett's twin sister Brewit popped out of the flames next.
"Surprise!" She yelled. "There are two of us Daddy!"
Hellfire's mouth dropped open. He had felt outnumbered before.
But never suffered anything like this. Brewit gave him a big hug.
Then she flew up with to join her mother and her sister.
A wonderful day in the woods, one we have never forgotten
Although that was twenty-seven years ago.
The story has been told thousands of times.
And put into the imaginations of many. Their purpose: Joy.
The snow so deep… That it was over our heads… Was a melting by the hour!
Give it a day, or two at most… and with this heat… it would all be gone, forever!
But in the meantime, we were sadly stuck, in mud, deep, within our own backyard!
The water couldn't run off fast enough; our backyard had become a swamp, marred!
Just then, low and behold my old Volkswagen bubbled up, thru the mud it came!
You know, the one, surely you do! Last year it had floated down the storm drain!
Now, low and behold something got out! OH WHAT I’ll never, ever, really know!
Said he was the REAL Swamp Thing, and tired of spring-cleaning his house, so…
He chained the car to a tree, as he hopped out. Said his name was “Gone Fishing”.
Said his Mama read it on a sign, and used it to name her sweet, baby, Swamp Thing!
But then, he saw our back yard, he shouted in delight and decided to visit for a spell!
After all, it’s turned into a real swamp! And he’s the real Swamp Thing! So, Do Tell!
Dragon, the penguins, and all else, followed him straight, to the swamp so profound..
The penguins slid down the muddy slope, and followed the Swamp Thing all around.
But when Dragon tried, his weight got him stuck! We had to wench him, to the shore.
Mud became the name of the day, with mud and snowball fights going on, in galore!
Everyone was in seventh heaven, ‘Gone Fishing’ the same, as they slide, all about!
Fun ensued! For how often can he vacation about? Only once a year! No doubt!
After 2 days of fun, the snow was almost gone, so we cleaned them, as they played.
Yes, the fire hydrant was turned on! Dragon threw his Penguins, happily, into the spray!
That shot them almost to the moon above! The closest to flying they would ever be!
They soared then slide down the street. Even Dragon did play this time! How sweet!
But ‘Gone Fishing’ knew his vacation was up. So he waved a hearty good bye…
As he jumped into the Volkswagen again, and let it fly, and man, could that baby, fly!
It flew down the street, and back down the drain! Before our very own eyes!
That was the last time we saw the Swamp Thing, as we waved, a sad goodbye!
But next time it snows to mile high deep… as it melts, we’ll be looking for our friend.
Here lies our story of ‘Gone Fishing”. It’s real! Honest! To you, I’d never lie! I defend!
And I expect, where ever he really is now… He’s ‘Gone Fishing’…THE END
You were "blood", & you had nowhere else to go.
You were the brother of my love, how could we tell you no?
We welcomed you in our home, you and your "escorting" hoe.
He even got you a job, as you stated "I won't let you down, bro".
But no good deed goes unpunished, our sentence was not even deferred.
An Instant hell, we fell and we fell, dwelling in the stench of one little demons turd.
My love, he lost his job, because, well Josh, YOU know EXACTLY why.
You ruined the life we worked so extremely hard for...you-the epitome of a big 'ole lie!
Our things were disappearing, but you, you thought you were so very, very sly.
On a golden pond of crescent stars, you were floating on a free moon pie...
My dress, my shirt, our conditioner and for God's sake, my deodorant too?
Was there anything else you forgot to take? Perhaps you'd prefer we send it to you?
My shirt jumped from my drawer, grew lil' feet and placed them on the floor...
Ran down the hall, scooping up my deodorant and into your bag they soared...
Your kitten, the one left in our yard, because of you, she'd almost died.
When we saw her deteriorating condition, it was enough to make one cry.
Poor little thing, you told us she would catch her own food outside.
One more being left in your wake, drowning in the storms from your tide...
Nine hundred dollars in fines, that's how much we paid to claim your kitten as our own.
Or the animal control would take her out of the misery of the only life she had ever known.
For a concerned neighbor, assuming we were responsible, was kind enough to phone,
and they were going to take her, & put her to sleep before she was ever even grown.
But I could not let that happen, even as now, we have not even paid our rent.
My love, because of you, he has no income, and we may all end up residing in a tent.
To think, one little brother could be responsible for these rapid, earth-shattering events,
leaving us a tumbling down alone, and for the next ruining, off you went!
This down-slope of destruction, on and on, has yet to slow for us...
disturbing hatred now swirls inside my belly as this journey has been so rough...
Now YOU have the nerve to question to US, while attempting unsuccessful to act so tough,
The ironic cherrybomb, our sweet icing on the cake, you ask, "HAVEN’T YOU DONE ENOUGH?"
Its sundown, the day’s been reduced to a crack of lavender and fiery pinks along the Massif des Maures mountains. This evening we’re sipping cocktails at “Les Toits,” the Hôtel de Paris’ rooftop restaurant. The French would call this a lounge.
Les toits translates as ‘the roofs’ and its stunning view overlooks the provincial rooftops that slope down the foothills to the gulf of Saint-Tropez and it’s world-famous beaches. The well lit boats are settling down and dropping anchor for the night as we complete our orders and get our second round of drinks.
This has been the best vacation. I think we’ve all reclaimed our calm after a tense freshman year. We’ve been at the beach for 10 days. Leong and Sunny are actually tan, Lisa and my hair are half a tone lighter and Bili’s black skin has taken on gorgeous, purple-ish highlights.
I’ve known Lisa now for ten months, but we share a deep connection that seems older. Lisa’s lovely, brazen, and naturally flashy, without trying. Unfortunately, though, Lisa draws men like a keig-light draws moths - whether she’s looking for them or not - I don’t envy her that. Young men, middle aged men, old men.
Lisa said it started when she was 13. She’d be in a store or restaurant with her mom or dad and a lady would introduce herself, “Hi, I’m with the Ford, or Elite, or IMG, or DNA modeling agency, has your daughter done any modeling?” And another business card would be wasted. Her mom nodded as she recalled this sordid past.
Attention just shifts to her, the party comes to her, she can’t seem to avoid it. About every 30 minutes some man comes over and introduces himself to us (to her). This man owns a local night club, would we (she) be his guest? (He’s looking at her like desert) This guy owns a yacht - “that one, there,” he points it out, in his Russian oligarch voice - he clicks a fob on his keychain and the lights blink. Oh, sure, join a strange foreign man on his yacht, what could go wrong?
There are 8 of us girls at the table with Charles, our escort and confidant. He’s a 50-ish, red headed ex-NYC-cop who just sits there quietly and sips his drink like James Bond. He seldom says anything. I lean in to him and say, “Maybe they think you're her pimp?!” Leong coughs in her drink and Charles gives me the same, serious, “behave yourself” look I’ve gotten since I was 9.
(1)
O Thou the beauteous lofty fort!
O ancient manse O royal court!
O land of beauteous holy dream!
Thou art a shield of mortal mort
Thou midst of ancient royal mead
A royal shade A royal hand
From centuries by majestic sky
In circles of devotees stand
The birds there singth in mirth and Glee
And doth so souls of seraph bands
(11)
In evening sing cuckoo and lark
And with them ring the mystic bells
O Tell thou Dozen lofty gates
O speak Thou stepped magic wells
Sprawling on the rocky hills
In bent of running foaming Ghaan
To save His kingly royal heart
Thy face decor by Shah Sher Khan?
Thou built on ancient Indian lands
Thou Koh e noor of Pakistan
(111)
Artistic hands of noble Turks
They measured first by indian scale
They then erected Asian king
In meadow green in heart of vale
Oh Thou largest than all the forts!
On face of Asian continent
For crowds of people everyday
Thou sing the songs of merriment
O Thou the kingly knight at Arms!
O thou guarded by heavens wall!
Thy face on hilly slope was made
By thousand hands of Todar Laal!
To crush the tribes of Potohar
Who were the lions of Indian war
(4)
O kings , Queens Of royal line
Wherest thou live?
Wherest thou go?
No grave no tomb not any shrine
Wherest tell me wherest you bow?
Thou chirp in birds in
winds that blow!
Or thou in Ghaan bottoms row?
With open eyes I can see
The princess swimming in Baoli
In scented orchard royal maids
Are fixing blooms in princess braids
In castle thine now fairies dwell
They drink the water of thy wells
In horrid nights they knock at doors
And then lie on dusty floors
They wake and dance in lap of meads
In Dewy gale in morning breeze
O harken me departed souls
O ancient stones ! O willow tree!
I fear the fate of Royal king
Thy kingly face who can not see
Who can not pray in Royal mosque
Who can't feel it's mirth and Glee
I fear The callous lady Death
Who in thy orchard roams so free
(5)
Thy fort is in the hand of Lord
He is the owner of this Gem
While thou and me by our heart cord
Can bow to him or sing a hymn
We are the tourists on this earth
We are a grain of desert vast
While phantoms of the days of past
Like kingly jewels all they lost
Part 1: The Event
Back in younger age days,
Going to grad school in Boulder, Colo, was no fun,
Lots of course work, research work, little time to socialize,
Professor had to meet his grants timeline,
One nice Saturday morning, a few grad schoolgirls,
Called and invited me to go to Copper mountain ski resort,
How can I resist such a social invitation,
I was ready in the morning dressed up in my winter gears,
We hit the road, within couple of hours, we were at the ski resort,
Went down to rental shop, got fitted with skis and matching boots,
I had not confessed yet to the girls that I was still learning how to ski,
We went up the chairlift, I was helped at the top by attendants to get on my feet,
The girls were good, they took off on their skis down the slope,
I started down slowly on the slopes, till I reached a junction of treks,
I started one way, changed my mind to take another trek,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, no one dared to lift him up,
I was buried in the snow with face down, till an older gentleman came by,
Turned me around, took my skis off, called the ski patrol,
By the late afternoon, girls came to the clinic looking for me,
Advised me, I should have stayed down, and practiced on beginner’s slopes.
Part 2: The Hindsight and lessons learned
I was on crutches for a month,
The diagnosis of hyperextended ligaments was not true,
I had knee surgery to get back hopping in a few weeks.
The lesson I learned, is never show off, know your limits,
Fun can await on some other day,
There was human temptation at that age,
To impress the girls, maybe make a girlfriend,
One girl would come once in a while,
Bring food and consolation for my well-being,
She gradually disappeared; I was back to work.
Now in hindsight, it was a great lesson learned,
People like the winners, not the losers,
Exceed in your effort, show your talent where you are good,
Research is hard work, like poets writing poems,
With only a few readers and good comments,
I found solace in my effort and kept myself going in life.
Pretend not to be master of all the knowledge needed,
Talk to the juniors and experts, if help is required,
Assuming that you can do it all on your own,
It is inviting trouble to a bright future.
What is this world coming to ,many falling short,some snort cocaine, or shoot heroin up their vain,some kidnap, some kill, some take pain killers, to kill the pain, why not throw the governments advil down the drain, and call the lords name,many fall short of who they should become, to the door of success they have lost the key ,they were focus on drug,pain,fame,money,anger,and the enemy, truly some times you become your only true enemy, What has this world become, many succumb to the cold,people sell their soul for riches and gold, behind curtains ,dark,dusty,filthy and demonic story's hidden, but secretly heard through the grape vine, I contemplate as I sip my grape wine. The youth in my world dose not take time, to take shine, I will be sure to take mine, we must accomplish something, before the doctors say flat line, the world is fading away in gloomy clouds filled with ruins and trash bins, where is the janitor, who seeks the janitor and savior, the ruler of our lives, the lord he can clean it all up, but still no one looks up and pray, or just simply say lord help me today, instead ignorance display as many disobey his commandments in every way.So today I must say, this world is heading to destruction, drowning in the devils concoction, hot lava eruption of failure and destruction, lead by corruption, interruption, the devils seeds, they grow in souls until they bleed, our world is starved and can't breath, or exceed these evil deeds and creeds, on top of this heat I pray, on thin ice.Parents struggle, to pay the rent, there back is bent, how much can the poor vent, to the government, the food in the fridge is little and a little child in the room, falling to sleep on a empty stomach,in a empty world,the only thing he had to eat, was the words of his mothers hope ,as she trys to cope down this slippery slope,of the devils soap. What is the world coming to, black on black crime, with little education how can you define, the true sublime image of life, the government suppresses and undresses us in the cold, I am tired success is bob wired by the governments structure ,the structure is poor, no wonder we see people laying on the city's floor, In this world I have nightmares , wake up the better image, what has this world become..........
Say this out loud...
5/9/2012
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..." Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from his writings)
There’s a magical cemetery north of here they say,
It’s a pleasant place to visit during the day.
Be sure the gate is unlocked if you plan to stay,
some just go for a thrill!
Visiting the dead is not the only reason to go.
A paranormal natural illusion awaits, a creep show.
A strange, haunting experience is all we know.
We need to listen, be still.
Pitch black at night, a warning if you easily scare.
Running out on a grave gets you points, it’s a dare,
I heard it in school, they do it bare but it’s rare,
and against our will.
On a lonely stretch of road, objects, gravity defies.
When you get to the spot, your vehicle flies.
And all must be quiet to hear the spirits cries,
or see feathers of a quill.
Santeria is noted when feathers have been gifted.
In space, the car, with all of us in it, will be lifted.
This is a story ‘bout the Halloween night we drifted,
through Gravity Hill.
An old Chevy Impala is what we teens packed into.
Fright stories were told along the way, some true!
Hair stood on arms, Bloody Mary, was one of the few.
It gave us such a chill.
One girl shouted; I looked in the rear-view mirror!
I saw her ghost! And so, it couldn’t be any clearer,
We were close, suspenseful of what grew nearer.
Then sounds of a French trille.
Natural illusion’s tricking everyone, in a mystery spot,
With no view of the horizon line, and near a dark lot,
The driver put the gear in neutral like he was taught,
as if by magic, began rolling uphill.
A slight downhill slope appears to be going up slope.
Then somebody asked, did anyone hear that? Nope.
A cayote ran across the road, had hoofs like an antelope,
with a wide grin and grill.
A layout of the land produces an optical illusion,
What you see is what you get, my conclusion,
Let ghosts lie, for it is us who are the intrusion.
Memories non-fiction, no frill!
GRaViTy HiLL
Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a damn, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
the boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope -
she casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
and stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
the stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
Continued
Nature made convenient sluice,
when pool water did wend
down the gentle slope
describing gargantuan wetsuit vend
er steadily chugging, chiseling,
and channeling straight away
blindly coursing upend
ding (mankind imposed)
property boundaries demarcations tend
with futile diligence,
asper the whimsical barenaked lady's
propensities, viz mother nature
made short shrift send
ding hours of surveyor labor down
into the behavioral sink also rend
ding inhabitants within the flood plain
to vacate premises and return,
when storm didst abate
comically shaking angry fist
at darkening non sheltering sky -
faux imitating to berate
meteorological processes
many complex systems create
the downpour seemingly
appearing (to me) rainier date
then years gone by scattershot memories,
(which figurative, somewhat unreliable
yardstick of boyhood) did equate
climate affecting
Southeastern Montgomery, Pennsylvania,
registering *****sapiens ultimate fate
burgeoning population, which impact great enough
for this lix spittle country bumpkin to ejaculate
(not prematurely) Hawaii hate
to reckon my environmental impact doth irritate
fragile ecosystems, and
holistic lifestyle aye would trade
(hint...mebbe ya know
of eco-centric intentional communities)
even (yes absolutely)
necessitating sweat of brow spade
work agreeable to this sometime joker
renting from management Grosse and Quade,
who primarily bolster increasing monies to get paid,
perhaps partnership incorporates hiring maid
service for their own households,
no doubt beds get properly made
yet, this regular John Doe (dependent on
social security disability because
debilitating panic attacks undermined
ability to function found (yours truly) laid
up (prior to acquiescing strong suggestions
to accept prescription medication), where grade
to cope much less steep, plus un huff frayed,
now rowing tha old skiff to destination
for to long not fostered and delayed
(christened matthew scott harris) to feign charade
nod duh so merrily lee down the time stream.