Long Stratospheric Poems

Long Stratospheric Poems. Below are the most popular long Stratospheric by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stratospheric poems by poem length and keyword.


Gravitation Defied

Even now, Pigeons stool surprised 
     while ensconced in dovecote
whose twittering translated as coo coo not bright
asper Icarus aiming for mythic cull magic did excite
     popularized notion to take winged flight

And for twenty first century mortal to wax poetic  
     this January 2018 bitterly, brutally day and night
Stymied sans principle 
   contradicted laws of Physics 
   soaring to limitless height
Away from temporal axon light

Into the infinite cosmic dendrite
Realization to soar above heavenly vault 
      spectacular sight
Brainchild of anonymous genius minds 
      left stratospheric legacy 
     To witness awesome might
break away, sans gravity 

     tacit Obeisance acknowledged 
     this hundred year plus anniversary
     Aero planes success got off the ground
     Pardon saying may come across as trite
More than a century elapsed 
   since machines first attempt to remain aloft
     Man made invention glittered silvery white

Beauty, grace and poetry in motion 
     excises Luddite trace
     Despite countless fatal crashes 
     Tragedy to those loved ones lost in fiery plight
Invisible ethereal essences dwell 
     and hover some place 
     Occupy a netherworld housed 
   with fellow nymph and sprite

Return to Earth to deliver miracles 
   and prevent near disasters
Although many a skeptic 
   may ascribe phenomena to luck despite
Angelic visage impossible to dispute quite.
Form: Epic


King Kane you've done it again

Ah King Kane.. you’ve done it again

Heavenly humility hums on a simply higher plane..

Angelic ability strums..curious necks studious crane

Classical charms forever waver but won’t wistfully wane

Professorial textbook tutorials..clever rhapsodies of restrain

Classy but never brassy..balletic lullabies of lyrical refrain

Dizzying dedication..insane..education.. epiphanies explain how to train

Eureka seeker...aurora explorer..yielded iconic pedagogic logic..

Willow wielded wonders sprinkled with sparkle…

Heroic champagne campaign shielded possible debacle..

Kane stoic no pretence…venerates poetic defence…purringly prophetic    

Guiles..wiles.. bewitch…bamboozling composure..silky smooth aesthetic

Was it just a jest…Smithy did suggest …Kane’s last ever test

No more communions…timber timbre tickles..more highlights than Bucks Fizz reunions

Elan fans wish…our Lord of the Rings on the pitch across the ditch.. baggy green disdain

Stratospheric.. slayed & flayed by a Sorcerer’s blade

Precision magician…traditional technician

Mesmeric mercurial master…history made
 
The last post gong sounds like a love song

Ah Captain Kane you’ve only gone and done it again
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Whispering Truths

As the turbulent determinations
          of everyday vigor

bellow through stratospheric circumstances
          dancing amongst the clouds

you calculate life's extravagances
          twisting beyond hierarchies

as leaf covered branches
          twitter in space.

Gusts of wind orchestrate
          like synchronizing ballerinas

flowing within music
          strumming delicate harmonies

on roads less traveled
          pecking at your brain

into rebel territory
          determined to stem irrelevant

while you savor circumstantial
          realities beyond comprehension.

Masquerading through conventions
          you enjoy the day's delicacies.

Sitka Sunset Blues

A lazy eventide Sitka Sunset
Where the invisible stairway to heaven
Splashes a touch of oil paint on deep blues
As I watch Helios blend radiant commands 
How many more Alaskan sunsets must one perform?

Purple psychedelic hues
Greets lucid pink flowing into valleys of honey
Performing a mirrored solo masterpiece on the lake
Streaming rapturous sounds of richness
From stratospheric multi-coloured basslines 

Hues so dense, one could cut into fine strips
Meets with standing ovation
As mere mortals gaze high from their amphitheatres
Mouthing the sweet syrup that pours from my haze
Succulent tongue burning coolness

Like an overused plectrum 
Encased within Aurora’s twang of fusion
An instrument without strings 
The Goddess whose aura never sets 
I, should ask for a raise 


29/05/23
© W J Clarke  Create an image from this poem.

As Materialism Radiates

the choking beat of conformity
coagulates internment in the minds
of fascist marches measuring time
shoving tubes filled with dictates
down the gullet of my spirit
wishing to be at least severed
from the instance of alignment
inherent in the laughing dream
which destroys ambitions of rain
-bows arching toward constellations
(a distorted and twisted version of the uni
-verse is still wavering alternative…

…dimensions into the crevice of an animal
eyeing and praying for nothing save rain
and prey to be plentiful despite their screams…)

must keeps the string extending
into nuclear holocaustic burns freezing
specters of old films dissolving
bubbles of arteries swelling grand
-father gasping at the why dangling
in the sky…stratospheric metaphors

…and off-key colors spill like incense
into the flame of creation harkening
dances of concubines combining
their hair like an enigma 

lost in the tip of a hum
life splits the secret of the tongue
a hue reflecting djinns of you

releases peace in a white explosion
swimming a thousand curses in sand
blinding in the storm of suffering
until the palliating confusion tears
and the witnesses remain in the caesarian
-section of divided moons of elliptical doubt
orbiting the cloud of world-leaders
scratching the chin of sin smirking…
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member The Gazebo

Lost in gravity’s pull, unleashing are iniquitous racing rot, 
obscure entities rush through, connecting the dots
pilfering, extracting inventory, my intestines in knots
distant incense fumes a conscious canopy, petals wafting open-air,
I sense an antediluvian forest, aflame, circling there
Gazebo’s trapezoid holds captive, naked, probed and jarred
A sceptic- doubting Thomas vanishing, broken in shards 
fragments of glass banishing, misfit mosaic alters as prey 
Trembling colors my core stripping to bone greys,
stumbling over intercranial eddies, whispering “This is not an SOS fortess”
I lift my listless body from off the whitened Kalli bench rest,
mustering up brawn to leave this camouflaged spaceship
gaining is the exotic and final trip
escaping shades of jade and eschewing a repetitive rot
at last, rejoining the existing world’s ongoing ellipsis—living dot dot dot


Let me share with you a shrilling moment, one I dreaded most. 'Twas another beautiful summer day, and a visiting day, at the beach steps away, the Lake Shrine. The layout an inexplicable charm, monks in saffron and garnet tinted robes draping each body, had welcomed me. I must have been aligned with the stratospheric, a nefarious nebula inside the meditation gazebo, I thought inviting and safe. Past mistakes had laid heavy in this dome, this world a jungle, pent up nerves generated, nerves stretched taut. The line inked about intercranial eddies who seemed to have spoken to me, was most difficult to pen. As a child hungry for the opaque curtains of mystery to be drawn, in which 'lamplights strange to these eyes', within my late-night shadowy bedroom, appeared. As an adult I seek answers, therefore removing the line. I’ve always been entertained by mind's photograph, I reflect upon.   

The Gazebo
I Am Anaya
2/22/26
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

upper wealthy

The Upper Wealthy 

It was said that famous families
only lasts for about three generations 
The Churchills, the Kennedys, and many
Others have a sale by date.
I thought of that while watching a program by
Crise Hedges, who happens to have grown up 
among the stratospheric wealthy, and he
spent time trying to distance himself from
that class of people
He can't, everything about his language 
manner, the smoothness of those who have
not had to strive
Cris was interviewing a man who writes
books about the rich, who, according to     
him are bad for our society and economy
Clearly, the rich are different from those who have
No private plane when going shopping
They send children to the top school in a limo 
They have a big household staff to keep
them in clover, and security, to be rich also 
Mean someone is out to do your harm
The two men began annoying me, telling
stories about the wealthy, sounding like
a couple trying not to sound envious
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

Tired of Feeling Sleepy Today August 17th 2019

Tired of feeling sleepy today - August 17th, 2019

Lashed with fatigue,
eye cannot fend off lethargy
hazy, hot, humid weather zaps
mental physical, and spiritual energy
even men of cloth
various and sundry clergy.

Undoubtedly summoning Parson Brown
currently out of season,
though stratospheric demand
for his person now
unprecedented as summer
dog days force physical slowdown,

nonetheless he would
experience immediate meltdown
booked solid throughout
"Winter Wonderland,"
when deep freeze
doth make clampdown,

no matter sung by masses
with uncertain reason
caroling 'bout said enigmatic figure
heard in every hamlet
or sprawling boomtown
belted clear as bell 

o'er nor'easter howl
undeterred by polar vortex windblown
chilling atlas shrugged 
off undaunted facedown
weathering arctic blast
making snow angels

comfortably numb jollity reverses frown
even elderly folks
sport about though grown
spry stick figures shoveling tunnel
courtesy white blanketed lockdown
"careful ma am" not
to fall on keister or crown.

Presence of said parson
linkedin with spate
of blizzard conditions and
Frosty the Snowman,
whose power to bring society
to standstill will not abate

proof positive to commander
in chief who cannot extricate
whether from climate, and trumpets
what he doth cogitate
dismissing global warming -
calling out "end of debate"

twill usher doomsday, cuz he
and trolling henchmen skate
on thin ice, and whose
dawdling crass, base
actions only accelerate
day of wreck conning

when most species will
lack mien ways to acclimate
all the more rhyming reason
to bid mortality adieu
and slumber permanently
battened down hatches
with me sigh ease oompa loompa mate.

stage fright

Stage Fright
This has been a long Sunday it started off with two toasts with cheese and the glucose rose to stratospheric, insulin is needed where the heck
Is the bloody needle, mlg if you please followed by a thundering heart and unwanted anxiety, I have tried to overcome for over 60 years
In my younger days, I tried to overcome my nerves by drinking whisky as a calmer which made me annoyed with anxiety-riddled myself 
My wish was and still is to be a brave person, who is able to express himself with confidence But, no deal baby, I ended up alone in a room
It is not like I don’t know what caused my total lack of confidence, our dysfunctional family was poor and I was literary farmed out
I was fourteen years old when I was set free to get a job as an errand boy in an office of nice people, who made me feel loved and wanted 
Somehow, despite my nervous hands and clumsy manners, I was able to get an education, which was well-paid, in the Norwegian merchant navy 
Later in life, I was in the café trade both in Britain and in Norway a business one has to be social and I had the hope to be cured of awkwardness
Finally, I sold out and went to live in Portugal where I bought a ruined house, fixed it up, and for years lived alone with a dog as companion 
My dog died, and my aloneness became ghostly until I met a woman and my life changed, but my nervousness didn’t, but it didn’t bother her 
I look back on my life and ask how the hell, did I managed this, with a lump of fear in my stomach nervous hands, and a lack of self-confidence 
The house on the prairie is sold, and my rustic dream is over, what the hell man, stop worrying about where to live tomorrow
 
As I sit in my chair, I stretch and feel, without hesitation pleased with myself, a voice utters, you are a jerk, now, take Elon Musk……
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

I Netted Mosquito Magic

I Netted Mosquito Magic ™

(near microscopic totally tubular proboscis 
gave one local bummer, a bloody respite this 
summer, hence....aye goot good wry min 
reason tubby a tuneful hummer.) 

No sooner than getting 
     weltanschauung after getting bit 
from female blood-sucking insect,
(which critters actually 
     considered little lord of the flies 
comprise family culicidae)
a most amazing 
     extraordinaire inoculated me 

with short lived surprise talent, 
which got this 
     American male infected 
with three hundred seconds 
     of super human impeccable skill
short-lived feat found 
     body, mind or spirit 
capable to transcend natural

limits of  usual abilities,  
     infusing this ordinary guy 
with an unpredictable
supreme titillating, stupefying, 
     resounding, hair-raising, glorifying, 
fleeting, entertaining, 
     daunting, catapulting, bedazzling, 
amazing stints possessing, 

     thy being from invisible source
thence when expending said 
     burst of tremendous spurt, 
per awesome bout of mental, 
     physical or spiritual bags of tricks 
eclipsing mortal prowess 
     with stratospheric wow 
     fear less factor 

ultimate fatigue found 
     this bloke supine 
and unable to summon forth 
     one iota of strength.

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