Long Specimens Poems
Long Specimens Poems. Below are the most popular long Specimens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Specimens poems by poem length and keyword.
(In loving memory of my big brother, Reg)
Right within my den
Calligraphic letters you penned
Surfaced as reminder of the love we shared
I see picture perfect portraits
No negatives.
You do appear on wings of time
Like sun's penetrating light
In spaces, deep as the Caribbean Sea
Yes, you are reflected
In multiple hews, brilliant as you...
Blood of my blood;
Imagine fortified versions of you
I see courteous crews...
Beyond seven saintly specimens
Now your name is set abroad
As though Griot who ruled.
I remembered, you tamed my fears
And rose to pave smooth
One perilous path I walked to work
Yes, weary women in need of warmth, were
Cloaked in hand woven peace, given by you
Now, you're laminated photo...
Graphed upon walls of grateful minds.
I have seen you prodding time
Through lens of your mind
Tall as mahogany trees
That cools, and shelters multitudes
Now; who but time, will seal
This empty space
I feel within my soul?
You'll never be you I once knew.
*
6/30/21
Listen to this
Getting sick of it
This drink I'm always sippin' it
Does no good to be a chicken s***
Or hypocrite
What a predicament
An outcome is imminent
Nothing infinite
All these increments
It's gone beyond intricate
The spectrum was never equivalent
Another foolish idea they implement
Quickly calling it legitimate
With a signed certificate
So focused on the omnipotent
And whether guilty or innocent
Treating you like an instrument
Don't be insolent
Stay diligent
Work on something significant
Another participant
And new experiment
Leading to life long imprisonment
In abundance or limited
Deliberate or a coincident
Complex or primitive
Sober or off much more than Ritalin
Where are you girl
In this world
Lately, I've been considerate
And interested
In getting intimate
Feeling magnificent
Mind state past militant
As another citizen
It took discipline
The maximum not the minimum
An occasional stop in Michigan
Among all these specimens
Before I'm a skeleton
For my own benefit
And the Benjamin's
Always genuine
Did it off adrenaline
"Treasure Box"
The etymologist considered "themselves" singular;
like a butterfly collector they pulled the pincushion
out from the treasure box and proceeded to capture words
pinning them to every wall, they felt a certain kind release,
voodoo prayers ran through their mind subliminally,
the agony of adjectives and verbs being kept
beside ampersands conjoining objective pronouns subjectively
was a fluttering kind of let loose ecstacy
their creation connubial was escoteric, beautiful and ingenuous
and insanely free, in a voyeuristic sense, the art was in the act,
the pleasure was in the generosity of letting them all fly free
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“Collected specimens can be identified to species using genitalic dissections and other internal and external anatomy that only can be studied through microscope work on a pinned specimen. The preparation of the wings spread and legs out, makes all features easily seen, including ones you will never see in a live insect.”
“Gently insert a sharp pin between the veins on the front edge of the left forewing and pull the forewing into place. Place a strip of paper over the left wing and insert pins to hold the forewing in place. Make sure you place the pins around the wing and not through it.”
We lie in our class,
Not really intrigued or puzzled,
By the mundane subjects that keep us muddled.
Some may admire the beauty that surrounds us;
Of the trees swaying in the winds,
Of the cherry blossoms that drop,
In the never-failing cold wind.
The light which comes through our open doors,
The light, not brighter than the people we have in store.
We all are specimens alike,
But, behind our mask of mischief lies,
A little drop or maybe a bead,
Filled with sincerity and virtue so sweet.
The little drop that burns and shines,
In all our hearts it lies.
We are not mindless wanderers,
We are not without destination;
Some folks can’t understand,
The intensity of our situation.
We have a goal,
An aim to be great,
But some of us haven’t uncovered our little drop,
The drop that can seal our fate.
The teachers say we’re a nuisance,
How we trouble their conscience;
But how they will miss us,
Miss our shenanigans;
How we will miss each other when we leave,
To the calling of our little bead.
She wanted me to meet her pet, but I was not ready to go yet.
Her enormous python and giant black cobra I had already met.
Alligator? Crocodile? Probably something that could tear me apart.
I made excuses for six days, until she said his name is Bart.
Bart? Hmmm. Bart a Billy goat? Bart a bat? Bart a bumblebee?
And he has fur, she added. A mink? A cat? A grizzly?
What is Bart? I asked. For what did I have to lose?
Just get over here, she insisted. And bring my borrowed shoes.
So I went on over, and knocked on the door, shaking a little.
A tomcat came over and unlocked it. He was playing a fiddle.
Where is she? I asked. Tomcat nodded to the kitchen. In with Bart.
I walked slowly toward her and got a shock. Jumped with a start!
What is it? I asked her, fascinated with this creature and his yellow eyes.
I wish I knew, she admitted. He came with a tag that said “Surprise!”
Bart said into earpiece, “I have three specimens, ready for beam up.”
We got taken seconds later, along with Fiddler playing Tomcat Buttercup.
When we were on our way in a giant space ship to outer space
I said to my sister, “This is an embarrassment, a total disgrace.”
“What about me?” she said. “A home invasion, and I was kidnapped by a toy.”
It happens I told her. “Remember tale of Helen of Troy?”
We must de-industrialise i hear..By some pallid strange
Specimens; let this be clear' in order to devolve to sustain'
We must resort to mass slaughter? Oh the idiocy.' And such
Strain the cattle are creating co2.. its the stuff of creation
And part of it.' Is that not true.? Yet still we must strive to
Mine lithium ore..Quite a destructive passtime.' To obtain
From raw.? Yet the goal is sustainable farming and such
Like ploughing with horses? And lighting candles well its
Not really that tough.' It can be done.' I'm not saying it
Can't but we'll need all the livestock.' About which some
Rant.' To do the impossible mankind ever tries.' And fads
Are ubiquitous as are callumny and lies.'
Last night's storm
has left its artwork on the beach,
a postmodernist exhibition
of brown seaweed strewn in clumps
like hair on a barbershop floor,
broken seashells
and a fallen rainbow of plastics
strung out along the shore
where now an exhausted sea
licks the leftovers of a meal.
Chaos has been distilled down
to washed up artifacts
and red bottle caps, drinking straws
and spoons buried deep inside a ball
of yellow twine. I cannot make
much sense of what is on display
or glean from this haphazard art
a hint of meaning
other than in its making.
All seems uncoupled, specimens
torn from lonely souls, bits
and pieces coughed up
out of the exhaust of a huge machine
whose pistons pump and drive
a spinning wheel that has no purpose.
I pick up a plastic sandal
and wonder whose foot
it once belonged to, then put it back
and walk home
alone.
Faraway Footsteps
How present
This past
Called memory
Hollow sole dragging
Hobnail boots
Caked with crud
Mud
And oil
Atop the landing
"Drop them greasy clothes"
Came the sometimes loving voice
The sometimes malevolent voice
But always his wife's warning
My mother's caring way
So many years past
When linoleum's impoverished sound
Is so remembered
Stepping from stove to table
Her laboring hands
Hefting the pressure cooker
Laden with steam softened cracked wheat
Barely eatable
That day's nourishment
Weighing upon
Forever toiling legs
Cushioned by sheepskin slippers
Whispering their shuffled prayer
I care
Generously ladled
Chew-your-brain-loose grains
Fit for health
Unfit for a kid
Layered my stomach
Fortified my heart
Prepped me abler
To gather reverie
So dear
Then
There was the sound
So ethereal
Heavenly I was told
Of bare feet
Curling the once-a-day-vacuumed
Pride and joy carpet of sage green wool
Replacing recently vanquished
Throw rug jigsaw mess
My early youth played upon
Our palace place
The living room
Scrunching pleasures
Toes lapping up that carpet
Dad's feet
Awful specimens
Calloused of years hard labor
Mother's feet
Preserved with nightly hot water soaks
Epson salts
When we could afford it
Worthy of pedicure
Never afforded
Me
Always wore my socks
Heavy wool
Darned when worn spots
Yelled loud enough
Mixed colors
When necessary
Yet always comfy
Homey
Loving covers
For footsteps
Unaware of the journey ahead
When steps would have to become strides
Leaps
Bounds
And eventually
Idleness
So present
These footfalls of then
Becoming echoes
Foreshadowing paces to come
When a once stubborn child
Needed to listen carefully
Or miss the lessons
Still offered today
From faraway footsteps
Passing near by
The skeleton languishing on the road
With sunken eyes, devoid of hope
Watching the pounding Mercedes
Asking himself who are they?
Strange animals
Wrapped in human hide
The cruel creatures
In the name of justice
development and progress
Swallowed the share of
Innocent, plain and simple
Mocking the morality
The answer comes
They are advanced specimens
Grown in millions of years
Redefining the evolution
Reflecting nature’s puzzle
Baffling the reason
Swath of pristine tractless snow white landscape...
tell tale sign where
winter storm Demi left her mark.
Beautiful and bountiful visual scene
(seldom seen around
tri-state geographic area
for quite a few years,
where temperate global warming
spelled unseasonably warm winters)
trumps the inauguration
for breathtaking view.
Immaculate conception birthed
awesome aesthetic spectacular
blinding heavenly creation.
I feel humbled
as an infinitesimal know nothing
wrought into existence
courtesy billions of years
evolutionary fits and starts,
and will exit stage door left
barely impacting the cosmic schema.
Memories accumulated across
six plus decades astride oblate spheroid
upon sixty plus shades of gray matter
sights and sounds transiently,
yet indelible impressions lasted a lifetime
eventually taken to the grave,
(or rather more eco-friendly crematorium),
which lovely bones once reduced to ashes
will leave nary a trace videre licet,
where joys and sorrows
dwelt within mine temple mount
unbeknownst to humanity
unless one attests to spiritus mundi
housing each and every personal record
that livingsocial (and more often
as an egalitarian, latitudinarian, proletarian,
solitudinarian, and unitarian) did emboss,
though uneventful existence,
would find any incorporeal passerby to gloss
tittering at reputation as spindleshanks
no doubt resulting
where chromosomes and genes
of interspecie breeding did intercross,
yet leaving some lucky *****sapiens
descendents of simian forebears
with eye catching physical characteristics
cases in point Heidi Kloss
or the waifish
former supermodel Kate Moss
testimony that either the former
or latter pleasing specimens
fortified with raw bits,
(and maybe even smattering
Norwegian bachelor farmers
big strapping men's bloodline
rumored heifer and angus outcross),
whose claim to eternal fame popularized,
and brought them renown fame
linkedin to "aphrodisiac hidden oomph"
of powder milk biscuits) sic erat scriptum.