Long Smog Poems
Long Smog Poems. Below are the most popular long Smog by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smog poems by poem length and keyword.
My house was smashed, broken and torn,
All walls were holes full of light,
So I moved into town to another small place,
Where the walls could seal airtight.
Then boxing day came in the summer of sun,
We left the air con on for our dog,
And the electrics broke and fire ensued,
Filling the house with a dark sooty smog.
Another quick move to a place by a lake,
A caravan I now proudly call home.
With a bed and a chair, two windows and fridge,
Now I can simply roam.
My housing’s fluid, from farm to a river,
To city, to the suburbian day.
I’ve become like a gypsy, ready to move,
Prepared for a new place to lay.
If I ever find my mind in a smog from heaven
Or ever blind as a frog in an earthen oven
I’d hop my hump back down to earth
And finally fix my ass, for what it's worth
Real heaven can exist in the commotion of a threshold
Reckon if you can and resist the devotion to what you’ve been sold
Through faith we create those things which brings us to believe
True faith will negate the strings on our wings we can’t perceive
I like the crazy notion that every day is nowadays today
I live this lazy devotion that times are eternally now this way
Push my timid tush up to the threatening door
Mourn the twitching toad on the rainy road
who cannot embrace the face of the killing floor.
Let there be no mistake about the West and the South.
Perhaps with the exception of San Francisco, where
there is a lifting of the fog by noon, in the West
Coastal Region, there is a lot of snifting the air
for smoke and smog. And the lack of rain is
causing a lot of Western pain. The prayer
warriors are praying FOR rain. The prayer
warriors are also praying AGAINST fires.
I'm neither a scientist nor weather man,
but I am given to observation. I'm not good
in the arena of debate, but I have always been
proned to opinionate. In the Southern Region,
it seems to me that when it's not raining, the
forces of nature are thinking about raining.
080622PS
The world is shaking with a voice like thunder
A unified declaration
We must build
Somewhere there is an opening
A gap in the noisy tumult
Clear air. No smog to block the smiling moon
Or lights to challenge the night
Just passing clouds
We build our cities to the sky
We make our livestock in a factory
The strong arm of progress flexes boldly
Our space is narrowed
As the offspring of the earth beat down what's left
A wise man stretches forth his ears to the sound of raindrops on the soil
His eyes seek out the pack of wolves
And the school of fish
He fills his lungs with fresh air from a fading supply
He looks to the untouched wilderness
And he remembers who we were
Kyle Ezra Kriticos
The answer came without a clue.
When I finally made it through.
I didn't know there was a question.
I thought it was just a suggestion.
Now I look back through the fog.
Of yesterday's polluted smog.
With no map to find my way.
To a place that I'd want to stay.
The sun don't shine as bright.
There's no fun, it just ain't right.
Dreams are hung on a dark star.
And hope, it just seem's too far.
Another day awaken's into the mist.
Filled with possibilities I just resist.
As I wait for what never comes.
As if I'm just twiddling my thumbs.
After a time you get wore down.
You can't even find a way out of town.
Get somewhere where grass is green.
But instead all I see is what I've seen.
Now I look back through the fog.
Of yesterday's polluted smog.
With no map to find my way.
To a place that I'd want to stay.
Time passes and I'm glued to the monitor,
Swiping articles on a greased up screen,
Some are absurd, some are obscene,
But how do I care,
As it sits on the lap I’m its janitor.
Acting like a sane handler,
But things go insane quickly,
With multiple tabs open how sickly,
I want to read them all.
The vital cog is I never go in-cog,
And the days I have missed the jog,
Blamed it all on the smog.
Getting the results but the process is getting wayward,
Trying to prohibit procrastinating profusely,
But my luck’s out of favor.
I’m in the danger of a mighty fall
My eyes are watering down,
While I mow the lawn
The time passes and I reminisce
I have traversed many dawns.
Reflected light
Shining bright
We look for the source
Of the divine force
Running hither & thither
As thought smog gathers
Upon getting to exhaustion
Of thought precipitation
We rest in silence
In childlike innocence
Within the heart womb
Where lower mind we entomb
Thereupon we see clearly
Mirrorlessly
That we are the luminescence
Encased in form of transience
That we may experience duality
As a subset of the one singularity
A springboard to harness wisdom
By swaying our attention pendulum
Taking care to remain in stillness
Free & unfettered one with oneness
Osmotically imbibing love vibration
With Ohm in unbroken resonation
05-August-2020
Living a quite life is better than the bustling city life,
there's no rush to catch a coffee, a cab, a bus, or train;
all noises fade out: patches of blue show a flapping Kite...
that crosses the atmosphere without fog and boring rain!
Take long strolls, discover many wonders that unfold mysteries
as the eyes behold the beauty and revoke the drifting images
of people exploring the wilderness and being spellbound by it;
I follow the same path: spotting the Wood Trush building a nest!
Every tree has living life in it: a Veery resting on a long branch,
the Crow looking for a prey, the Quail laying eggs in her nest;
oh, the Cerulean Warbler with blue head and pretty wings attract:
he waits when all blooms, staring at brilliant skies in early March!
Birds of the forest have the longest life where smog doesn't exist
and their survival on rain, seeds, nuts and insects...even sunlight;
and without any of these there wouldn't be any sound after sunset;
look at these fowls of the wilderness and learn survival in the forest!
Dear commissar wherever you are? There's never been times I've felt so far
That this place is like the deadest star, no orbit or purpose apart from travel
Will it go supernova? which way will it unravel.? Perhaps galactic ice will
Overtake? From the lagoon of despair, in massive lake's to then become a sea
Of doom? Reflecting many itinerant moons; just hurtling round the net in a loop
With a never-ending dismal group, of astrologers; to chart it's demise
Through ever more forbidding astral skies, oh commissar; oh commissar'
Can't you change direction? It's not too far.' Just a million light years away'
Where a Sun is shining, where inspiration can blossom near and far.
Yet maybe there is no commissar? No commissar.. Or book of rules.'
Adhered to by..Well by no doubt gilded fools' surely though there must some be?
In consonants prison, just you mark me' adrift on that silly bubbles sea
Why do they venture? Before anyone interupts ) I'm asking me.!
There's the tide the moon runs, and the tide of emotion for someone.)
Bad tidings ever fleet; at any hour, the tidings of joy bestowing power,
A tide of mice, or'tops the land, by two times thrice no harvest stands
There is also a consumer tide, in which we wallow, and take much pride'
We'd changed for deisel, propane gas now electric, 10 billion cars to scrap effective?
Then there will be even more to make, ever to build' always to be take.'
There's much aversion to any red pill, just pop those blues.' Keep them coming
You can be a wireless object with what's a' humming it's going fast if it hits you'll never know'
What mask to wear on the radio, no matter that your face isn't seen its all about the
Image; yet I'm not that keen' and like why are we all so lost in this smog from such dirty Green.'
I was born underwater with lungs oversized,
With gills immature in a world full of smog,
I'm filling petition to be cauterized,
And end other chapter in life’s fragile log.
I was born black and white with extremities gray,
The plaintiff accuses what I might hide,
It's nothing but SOUL constantly at play,
With spoonfuls of turquoise rolling down off life's slide...
Implosion of rainbows will probably be
The cause of my passing unknown and alone.
When thrown overboard and deep into sea
I'll finally return to my home long time gone...
I've moved in a place with no windowless chamber,
Where time has no meaning and waiting is painless,
If I had any hopes, I swear - don't remember...
And don't recognize him, his sorrow is senseless.
I have died underwater, reborn in blue nights,
Don't need oxygen to play with the whales.
Remember when watching those great Northern Lights
That Mother is smiling behind Nature’s veils.
for Constances contest "Mother"