Long Speed Poems
Long Speed Poems. Below are the most popular long Speed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Speed poems by poem length and keyword.
With heritage of dragon lore,
and hills and valleys shore to shore.
From the land of leeks and daffs,
there came a lass born of a Taff.
Roman walls built strong and bold,
surround a fortress very old.
From English city of great fame,
came a lad with a Welsh name.
This girl named Joan had lived to love
the Celtic ways as all Welsh should.
Now Ivor born of English greed,
had lived his life at lightning speed.
But race and culture cannot tame,
love’s strong flame in any game.
So when this lass and lad did meet,
they swept each other off their feet.
So English mad and Welsh so wild
came together and bore child.
A girl as beautiful as night,
with mother's spirit, father’s fight.
Before their daughter was quite one,
our couple then produced a son.
A lively lad who screamed for fun,
his mum and dad, rolled into one.
Through history, it seemed a must,
to save each race from others lust.
But now our pair combined as one,
their cultural change had just begun.
As their two children grew to teen,
two more children, our pair wean.
Not by birth, they came their way,
but sheltered from their darkest day.
An Arab boy of noble blood,
who never knew his mother’s love.
The other dark with curly hair,
who carried genes from everywhere.
So now, as family of mixed race,
they show the world a better face.
It isn’t colour, race, or creed,
that binds together mankind's seed.
So shed your mindless prejudice,
for in it you will find no bliss.
And look beneath what you see there,
your eyes will just find skin and hair.
The truth's much deeper than you see,
unless within your mind you're free.
All mankind came from the 'whole',
so ‘feel’ their presence with your soul.
Now Ivor, Joan, and their family,
accept each other and are free.
It matters not from where you came,
beneath the skin we’re all the same.
So try and open up your heart,
and let your inner fears depart.
Your culture then may join Mankind,
now that’s a gift, for you to find.
Ivor G Davies
otra vez,otra vez`
I do, say and say again
I am the rock star of the ring
I risk my life again and again for fame,
Some might think of my passion
As just being poetic and practical
Or simply culture or unethical
However, nevertheless not when my life is on the line
Stronger than a herd of Buffaloes
Faster than the
Speed of a race horse,
He is now broken free of his corral
A streak of fury, rushes me
Despite my fear of dying,
My main focus is to
Take the bull down by its horn
>>
I looked deep into his eyes,
I saw mingling of rage
I carefully swung the cape,
A taunt of furling red
Aiming for its horns
The crowd roars, while
The old ladies sob for the bull
The men cheers for
Salvatore the Matador
Nothing more stimulating than the ladies
with the beautiful smiles
The bull is going to die
Redding Poem 4
“Flying Down Interstate 5”
We departed Redding at 3:45,
In the dead of an October night.
Those tumultuous streets were morgues then,
As we raced to the deserted Interstate 5,
Zooming across the snoozing Sacramento River,
Going at a constant speed of 85,
Passing the snoring cities of Red Bluff, Chico and Yuba City,
Slicing through the darkness of early morning,
With the tule fog scratching over the countryside,
Shrouding the distant lights like blinders on a roan.
One city after another, my speeding treads arriving
In dark sleepy Sacramento in two hours.
With the sun not waking yet, but stirring,
The internal beast passed Stockton as a blur in time,
With other speeding drivers merging onboard,
As insistent captains of their own landlocked ships.
Then looming before us, the San Joaquin canvass;
A devouring flatness five hundred miles long,
Of faraway farmlands sleeping overtime,
The majestic surreal banality of Central California,
Magnetizing us, hypnotizing us to the hastening flow,
Of southern currents and windy traipsings;
This caravan of one, this golden fueled protrusion,
Of the nomadic heartbeat; the inertly-moving soul search;
This final journey to the rapids of my youth,
Where undead ghost boys still climb the rebar rungs,
Atop the old tower on the water’s edge,
Still spit into the blue, slow-paced river below.
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The White Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in White
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
SHADOW COUPLE
Not sure, me conscious or in contemplation
May be DREAMLIKE or an illusion
Perplexed in SURREAL condition.
I was walking alone on the stream strand
An UNREAL sensation, arduous to understand
TRANCELIKE feeling as if you held my hand
Sun was down snatching my shadow
SHADOWY sky brought Moon crescendo
In Moonlight shadow reappeared to follow.
Little brittle ripples dancing with shadows of Palm trees
Suddenly speed of wind started to increase.
My cluster of hairs was rustling in the breeze.
The stream strand was deserted solitary
Noticed second shadow: Virtual or IMAGINARY?
Felt curious, astonished and little bit scary.
HAZY heavy smog prevails around, mist drips
I am thrilled to feel mild touch on my lips
Behind pieces of clouds mystic Moon peeps
My sweetheart, my love was supposed to come.
He must be hidden behind rows of trees Palm
Hurriedly I moved to find my handsome
Looked around, searched but found none
Awaited to welcome but seemed all fun.
Leaving his shadow beside me he had gone.
Engrossed in ETHEREAL emotion I am stepping ahead
I had lost him last year, now I am safely guarded
Shadow- couple made for each other proceeded
05/30/21
Third Place
'Writing Prompt Dreamlike' Contest by Constance La France
Slow flames under the blacktop,
simmer-ghost rise
from the sloughing road.
Rubber scorches its skin
shedding blackened snakes.
It's a hot day,
creeping turtles fill pot-holes
with their hot-plate shells.
The highway drums along
to the churr of cricket songs,
along the way, either out or in,
dead-eyed samurai
rage-on at the speed of silence.
A fly in a warm margarita
brain-waves a thought of heaven,
then drowns in a wet question mark.
Sneakers, crocs or Jesus sandals?
Whichever way we walk
the town will be further away then we thought,
and the heat-hacked pigeons
will light the way like Tiki torches.
I guy reads about Maui
and its hills of ash.
A place where ice runs hot.
Dry tears run up
into his eyes.
Rubiks Cube, a 3D puzzle, a toy, invented in 1974
became a worldwide craze
called by many names over time
Magic Cube
Speed Cube
Puzzle Cube
Sliding Cube
those six sided faces of colored plastic
made for frustration . . . .
oh, I was lost in a maze of colors
often hope shone like a pebble in the gloom
it inspired tournaments
and beside Speed Tournaments, many other
one handed, feet solving, blind-folded, fewer moves
anyways, not sure about you . . . .
but I usually gave up
the cube shook the ocean of my sleep often
only the dedicated remained to solve the cube
but imagine . . .
a round, sphere puzzle like Rubik
and the drums of time rolled and ceased
and somebody did . . .
oh, clouds of joy sailed cross the sky
for the Impossiball, is a round sphere
that is scrambled . . . to be re-assembled
same concept
same frustration
and from its blue vase, the rose of day drops
for I still hold, that round sphere
that fits quite nicely in my hand . . .
____________________________
January 14, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/the ''Impossiball''
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1321-245-14
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for Premier the contest If The Rubiks Cube Was Round
sponsor, Kai Michael Newmann, Judged 01/26/2021
Second Place
By condo fence
Bird choir melody;
Song of July
Marriage banquet
Hosts in finery;
Guests and feast sparkle
Gratitude speaks
Spilling fond banter;
Bride and groom delight
Distant laughter
Prompts curious eyes;
Ears on the prowl
See moments crisp
Potato chips tasty;
TV sitcom drama
Evening comes around
Rare red sun horizon;
Daylight waving goodbye
Nonsense can talk
Crude noise intrudes;
Calm thoughts watch
Moment to commit
Territorial glimpses;
Takeover bid
Deep design motifs:
Extravagant ideas;
Simple illustration
Talk is cheap
Only execution matters;
DIY moments
News flash outcry:
Commercial plane shot down;
World mourns tragic murder
War decides death
Destruction forces pain;
Revolutions change nothing
Sad story
Death by fire bombs;
No one spared
Headline news
All over the world;
297 dead mid flight
Such inhumanity
No cause for concern;
Warring fractions impasse
Today's world awakes
Weapons of mass destruction;
In small hordes
Tension escalates
Man versus man;
No one wins
Sooner not later
Change intervenes;
New gremlin harvest
Morning coffee
Aroma of wakefulness;
Prelude to day's onslaught
Once upon a time
Spring held sweet ardour;
Today, old age ferments
Words speed along
Congestion impedes;
Word craft evolves
Leon Enriquez
28 July 2014
Singapore
It’s been a long road
No sense of direction
No ending in sight
A challenge at every junction
But it all leads to the same destination
A steady rough road
No lines painted
No guidance for me to follow
A flow that is always flowing
From corners to long stretches
Riding every bump
Slamming into every apex
Never stopping
Never slowing for a speed bump
Flying everything into the air
Over and over again
Pot holes getting deeper and deeper
Like being punched in the gut
Over and over again
Confusing and mind altering
Tiring every corner of the mind
As the long road continues
Still no end in sight
Life is hard and the times are harsh,
Here and there I run in a mad dash,
Not knowing where to head,
Nor where my life is by fate and fortune led.
I don't think that all is fine,
My head swirls as if spun by wine;
I know not east from west.
Where I'm destined heavens know best.
I hope that someone will one day tell me,
What is wrong with me that I don't see.
Perhaps I entertain a lot of hope;
More faith than the world can cope.
Meanwhile I'll roam the streets of life alone,
For all my childish joys are gone.
Not Papa is there to hold my hand,
Nor Mama to walk me through that spectacular sand.
I trust in one God above,
Whom Papa used to say is full of love
And is there for those mired in want and sin,
And those without friend and kin.
Now I tread upon the highway of loneliness,
Knowing neither failure nor success,
Only walking alone with moderate speed,
Unwilling to guess where this path may lead.