Long Sonar Poems
Long Sonar Poems. Below are the most popular long Sonar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sonar poems by poem length and keyword.
8/6/17
Success or failed
Heads or tails
The beginning or end of the trail
Have or haven't yet set sail
At times it may be so bizarre
Go ahead try to go far
Doesn't matter if you do or don't send a postcard
And if you own or work with a show car
I'll find you with or without sonar
Then break right through your own guard
Whether I did or didn't use a crowbar
Since you were involved in making folks starve
You will be dealt the most harm
Not a split second later
On either side of the equator
Send you to the so-called 'creator'
Or 'maker'
For trying to endanger
The planet and nature
That is inexcusable and beyond major
Why is why you will soon be another one for an undertaker
"Crown"
My eyes are on you
Blue Sky
From where I stand
my eyes are grass green
silver cut
grass green
sharp and hungry
My lips are persimmon sweet
ripe and dripping words
thick and smooth
like warm honey
My mind is open wide
like your eyes
Blue Sky
sharp
sonar seductive
dark and strong
as black tea
echolocation
bouncing against
your body
wings beating
wet waves
against your hot skin
Wings spread wide
I am Awake
all yours
upside down
Fever rides you
I break you in
wearing your crown
your skin glistening
From where I lay
my eyes are
silver cut
glass green
My eyes are on you
Blue Sky
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O! it came o'er my ear like the
sweet sound That breathes upon
a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour..."
Act 1 Scene 1
Twelfth Night
"Enough, no more.
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical."
Hannah suffered from being bullied at school,
So turned to the Royal Yachting Association;
Born with no lower right arm in 1985 cool,
She originally sailed a mirror, neat motion.
Initially she didn't like disability sailing events,
But Andy Cassell, a British Paralympic sailor,
Directed her to them, so she put her cents,
Into sonars, larger boats with a team factor.
She joined with John Robertson and Thomas,
And gave her all in the mixed sonar contests,
Where she won 2 silvers and 2 bronze bases,
And also 3 golds at the Disabled World jests.
This was between 2003 and 2015 Melborne,
Starting in Athens, going on to Sonderborg,
In Denmark, then to Perth, Australia born,
And then to Medemblik in Holland, a gorge.
Then came Weymouth which took them onto,
Melbourne, and from there Rio they made,
Where the trio created a ninth place portfolio,
Which thrilled them nonetheless with blade.
Always been a big fan of the Radio
TV well my Mum couldn’t careless
Would confess fonder of the caress
Tireless wonder finesse of “the wireless”
Always on ever since I was an embryo
In the Honda & then in the Nissan
Over yonder in gazebo we'd listen
Rejoice ponder familiar voice glisten
Our sonar condor no similar frisson
Views criss-cross across the entire globe
Stations who do news will inspire a probe
Rascals liar lair laid bare debacles disrobe
Swayed stoking stroking amuse every lobe
Kaleidoscopic topic musical made strobe
Dismayed why choose to be a radio-phobe?
Homegrown seeds sown cultural parlophone
Smoothed grooved & moved by that tone
Velvet timbres soothed never ever alone
Over years wistful relationships does hone
Not prone to drone or moan in the zone
Wink don’t think my love is overblown
Hits flits skits fits sits on its media throne
Well this is not my first Marconi rodeo
Tip top drops from all the latest crops
Greatest track stack never stalls stops
Daily diet from the quiet no not paleo
Word play riot foray from the Deejay
Won’t tip toe or be some Pinocchio
Hooray helps me get through the day
Ego glow feels like just for me.. my beau
Know with VPN zen then even when away
What it does bestow.. a hero like Horatio
Which's why I do crow so about the RADIO!
Sensing the atmosphere for omens.
Signs of impending, cusp and verge.
I ping and curl, scrape to drudge up-
internal program and hit send
and hope for good vibes return "not the end."
I have become a lightless diode.
A buzzing lamppost in the neighborhood
of victimhood and it's backstreet node.
A useless burnt out core in off mode.
A robot running over castles
premade in the sand.
I try to read between the lines,
decrypt the Oracles plans behind,
the fulfilling jinx it has in store foe me.
Stars aligned.
A telepathy mainlining, a pulse headlining freakshow.
Of kinetic belonging, or safety net I used to abide in
long ago.
When the world had justice and overseer
and endearment-
enthronement-thoughts of the faithful.
I long for the ether of a hint,
graft me in with your marrow, splint, in the know.
Don't leave me high and dry,
Alone and crooked, wicked bent.
Odious clouds and signature mounds.
Terra-blyte your foretelling,
Either a warning or a telling of blue skys color turning.
Ether, of any which way the wind blows in my mind.
A private message, rather stalking.,
as it stands a topography cone of cold stand.
Your best made plans, for me
for the tasting, cast of shadow.
forecast, menacing.
Bound to be set in stone, found rather mocking.
Injected in-guest-guessing an after the fact thing,
for me.
You read my fear as I fill
a prescription of
my self fulfilled prophecy,
rolling the bones
with fate's hands.
I hear there's power in the knuckles,
the joints, the suggestion of glands.
Just. Faint whispers,
whisking by
warning-arrows
with no flame-
no spark burning for me.
Just a whisker filament, fading to the darkest
sharade of gray, hit parades.
To shade my own guilty sense of judgment.
Of putting my trust in false things.
With their superficial gradient of monochrome;
night rainbows,
overlooking Styx river country home
aside a brick road leading all the way to Thunderdome.
My sonar/feeler brain finding it's way
in the dark like a worm in the dung.
In someone else's element.
With no taste for mental or spiritual atonement.
Or the taste of Hope's spark on my tongue.
Stephen used to have sprinter Richard Whitehead,
As a team member when he did play ice hockey,
Before he became a sonar sailor, the water to wed,
In disability sport, the key was his sporting degree.
He played for the under 18 Wales rugby union team,
Because he lives in Bridgend, from Ogmore Valley,
Then he contracted meningoccal septicaemia, deem,
‘Cos this amputated his legs to make everything ok.
His ice hockey team did well coming third in Turin,
And in Athens at the World’s his team got a bronze,
Then in Beijing they came sixth in that hot condition,
But was disappointed at London by penalty neons.
Haggis hype
Bagpipes bleating like unshorn sheep
Tartan theatrical - military tatoos
Scotland cloning Dolly the Sheep
National pride - Robbie Burns, poet, bard of Auld Lang Syne
Highlands of ancient rocks, rift vallies
natural beauty, layers of worth
Loch Ness, geologic scooped, water serene
Nessie settled in depths, unseen
sonar detection elusive
marine monster of geeky charm
conjured in gift shop puffery
Nessie hat, Dragon like, tucked above protruding ears
In Edinburgh's historic streets
Whiskey fed men, burly, bearded
strut
wrapped in kilts
traditional garb
plaid, pleated, blessed, dressed
in woolen scratchiness (avoid a public itch)
Breezy kilts wrap manly legs menaced by
thigh high thistles
Scottish reach prickly
No matter
Scots men, image strong
(ignore the thistles and street whistles)
brimming swagger like malt liquor
skirting scavengers in exploration peaks
men in kilts (minimalism denied)
protectors of the realm
unafraid
to let it all hang out
Poem composed: March 10, 2021
Umbilical umbrellica of umbral phantanes
"Anjelsmoth Banjitreel Naievae"
These are the spasmodic words you cause in me,
dare to ascertain in my exotic condition
of your cusping contain
My darkroom carotodomy gastronomy
of infrareds and lightwinds, rushing in,
scouts of wrath seeking the four ends
As you pet pet pet care snap twang, mend
"your pretty thing"
KarmaSupra-Natural endear- in me how spooning
feeds bends at my thrashing and gnashing of teeth
where your purring thickens in my auditorium,
arouses condition,
echoes in sonar picture perfect verbatim,
ruins in salvatore partition
Your light-wound
Is it a seizure, a leash
Tourettes syndrome, speaking in tongues?
What is it called, may I know-
I need a name, give me your true name-
and what aim, what precision archery,
what kind of game are you hunting?
Bondfires burning in the Valley of the Kings
Stuck Pig, squealing and turned by your spiteful
rotisserie of baneful spit you leave to dangle
as an apple on your lips?
Mountain Ram, braving the rocks and the heights carelessly of crash-ward depths?
Did I lock horns a moments long locked
on a linger and caught in a snare
of your primal mating ritual of Astuan?
Challenge your beckoning finger
talons of Vulcan Eagle to soar me to the heavens,
how did we get here?
Why must I be your icarus of daring -
savage amusement, knowing
I cannot outstare the burning sun
The melting in your wax museum,
peepshow coliseum, of the lost, you are the acost
of my 'verted musement again and again and again
Libra is scaling taxation, purgatory perdeum owed-
to the shades of Shangri la,
I'd say we, you and me are more than even,
Nefertiri
Will our clashes ever die?
Our gashes ever sustain or lusts
or take the darts from our eyes?
We a gleaming the cube and porpoising the rift
on the lips of
evermore, Eigypsed in the swollen rains
with chariots on fire
At the steppes of our estranged world,
of the law, of desire
...You can feel them on the wind...
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
Hot summers day
By the swimming pool
My love and I
Drooling for cool
Splash, were in
Mucking about
She's teasing me wicked
Flashing in pout
Underwater we dive
Chasing lovers
Touching, clinging
Revealing each other
Naked we are
In delightful swim
A sense of want
She and him
They swim to each other
Their lips meet
Bobbing, kissing
As their bodies greet
The serpent rises
To her lair he seeks
Receptive desires
Swimming pool deep
Pert she becomes
Piercing his chest
Excitement of two
On he she rests
Waves of delight
Caress each other
Reaching out
From their kissing smother
Harmonious joys
Their sonar sound
In loving grind
Translucent found
Resonating passion
Surface carried
Adventurous hands
So loving, varied
Their internal flumes
In joyous mix
Their kissing caps
Eyes transfixed
From the pool they climb
Each other they dry
Still absorbed
Together they lie
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