Long Submarine Poems
Long Submarine Poems. Below are the most popular long Submarine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Submarine poems by poem length and keyword.
Flying high in the sky
living with not a care
no harness there to hold
you really feel so very bare
It's such an exhilarating thrill
now know how birds do feel
flying through clouds and skies
so free this is the real deal!
Everything's so small down there
looks just like little small dot
at moment I see a yellow thing
quite long indeed maybe a plot
It's filled with such little people
my microscope sees such detail
waterproof coats they've got on
maybe out on an ocean sail
Now could it be a submarine
plotting someone's final downfall
bright and yellow oh so clear
getting closer now total freefall!
( just some thoughts about imagining being a bird flying up high, describe what you see down below.)
You know, I used to be happy all of the time.
what the heck happened? I used to go weeks
without crying, I used to love going to school.
In fairness, I liked real school - not the sad,
sterile, anti-social, virtual experience.
When I'm mad I get silly, then mean. I don't
always know why - angry is the answer, but
I don’t always get the subconscious analysis
behind it. That's a bad day - I'm truly sorry.
If I could step back, in those moments,
and think - clearly - I'm about the luckiest person.
I'm a hundred pounds of privilege
- if we rounding up - but pressurized,
stressed like a movie submarine in deep dive.
I think I miss people - like in an assembly
- before it starts - where a hundred conversations
clash like the random patter of rain. That’s one
of the sounds of joy.
The civilized brain is soaked in the opinions,
and shared experiences with others. These virtual,
interactive shadows on flat screens can't fill the void.
p.s. I write short stories too =]
I met a man in a playful tune
Who had a thought I thought I knew
He said to me goo goo g'joob
Does anything sound more real to you
We were out standing in a field
With fresh strawberries dancing at our heels
In a moment a bit too surreal
Continue on Bungalow Bill
We moved past a four-man line
As we slipped into dream #9
Being there for the benefit of Mr. Kite
When Lucy and her diamonds fell from the sky
A day in the life left tragically
Our mystery tour on a yellow submarine
The revolution of love has now left the building
In a puddle of memories out on the street
She held your hand to comfort you
The color of love now the color of blue
Till the bitter end, you sang passion true
Goodbye to you Goo goo g'joob...
R.I.P.
John Lennon 10/9/40-12/8/80
Just waiting in line to register for college courses.
I did not relish such crowded coarseness.
Then, mon Dieux, my eyes fixed upon you, lost was I!
Your brown eyes, made me feel like I was flying in the rainbows
Of a star phantasmagorical sky.
No, I told myself, I was imagining such things...
But fate arranged our years together, beyond my limited imaginings!
We lived and loved together under sunny and rainy kweather.
We were somehow born to be soul-tethered.
Cooked quiche Lorraine, salads so divine amd kthe best part was,
at bedtime,
This old fashioned girl was thine, and totally shined.
You got me to attend the Old Town School of Folk Music and learned
to play guitar.
You introduced me to Second City, where I was to ibecame a minor
improvisational star.
We studied Baba Ram Das and went to sensitivity trainings.
My life with you was neither boring nor draining!
We blew weed and went to see the "Yellow Submarine", together.
Came out laughing so hard, we walked home in the rainy weather!
You gave me my first cat, Luvey, my first sweet Calico,
Hal, the fantastic, far-out life I had with you,was quite the show.
For my birthday, a book of great poetry ....Kahlil Gibran, so cool!
Thanks Hal, for loving me and never treating me like a fool.
I will forever hold you in my beating heart,
From my inner soul, there is a gem-filled Hal part!
With you, I was forever dancing on freshest air.
We were on the wings of time, a rare, loving special pair!
11- 13- 2020
I met a man in a playful tune
Who had a thought I thought I knew
He said to me goo goo g'joob
Does anything sound more real to you
We were out standing in a field
With fresh strawberries dancing at our heels
In a moment a bit to surreal
Continue on Bungalow Bill
We moved past a four man line
As we slipped into dream #9
Being there for the benefit of Mr. Kite
When Lucy and her diamonds fell from the sky
A day in the life left tragically
Our mystery tour on a yellow submarine
The revolution of love has now left the building
In a puddle of memories out on the street
She held your hand to comfort you
The color of love now the color of blue
Till the bitter end you sang passion true
Goodbye to you Goo goo g'joob...
R.I.P.
John Lennon 10/9/40-12/8/80
It hasn’t been all bad…this quarantine we’ve been on
For instance I can’t believe some of the wonders I have seen
and the places I have gone.
No, I haven’t actually been anywhere, of course, that would be wrong…
but luckily I have the shoulders of authors who let me ride along….
Yesterday wearing a hat and pipe and my requisite wisdom and grace
I was with Dr. Watson in England helping Sherlock solve a case.
Today I’m riding a noble steed…and it’s anybody’s guess…
Will I be slaying a dragon…
guarding a king…
or saving a damsel in distress?
Tomorrow I may wrest victory from the edges of my doom
I may storm a castle gate…or open a Pharaoh’s tomb.
Or I could be the captain of a submarine…
20,000 leagues under the sea
I could be a prince, a king, a wizard…
I can only imagine the hero I might be…
I might climb a beanstalk…or finally learn how to cook
for there are no limits to what I may discover…
within the pages of a book.
So when I can’t go anywhere…but my urge to travel is strong…
thank goodness there are authors who let me ride along…
Thank goodness there are authors who in this time of gloom…
will take me any place I want to go…from the comfort of my room.
Once upon a time in land far far away,
The citizens were demanding their president find a way,
While he still held sway,
For climate to have less say,
In how they should plan their day.
With bated breath they waited,
To see who to the cabinet table would be elevated,
The bookmakers were sorely disappointed,
To learn how much the presidents cabinet deviated ,
From what was generally expected,
By all experts they had contacted.
At first glance it could not have looked more hopeless,
With appointments from a president under stress,
That seemed to verge on madness.
Who in their right mind would think,
When the country was on the brink,
It was ok to bring to the table,
So many unable,
With both the physical and economic climates so unstable.
What could a cabinet that included,
An experienced water diviner,
The country's most reliable weather reporter,
Someone experienced in building a desert shelter,
The head of the fire service,
A tree surgeon,
A bee keeper,
An explosives expert,
A cave explorer,
An oceanographer,
A submarine designer,
A wind tunnel expert,
And the president's eleven year old daughter,
Possibly do that,
A banker,
An accountant,
A career politician,
A lawyer,
A mafia boss,
An internet provider,
And a spin doctor,
Could not do?
It’s not sweet when I reminisce.
On the day I can afford to,
I’d like to place a candy store on Memory Lane.
Had to take my own two legs,
move them like a mermaid’s tail.
That was me adapting to the marine way,
’cause if I didn’t,
the water’s body would decompose my body—
and who wants to leave behind a teary mommy?
Still swallowed up by the marine,
suddenly there appeared a submarine.
I was pulled up, got breathing space—
less problems, more oxygen.
Talks with the Almighty,
reconnect with my origin.
If you can’t climb a tree, use a ladder.
If you can’t swim, build a boat.
Opportunity will arise along the way
Form:
The left side of a boat is called port. When facing forward toward the front of the boat (the bow), port is the left side,The right side of a boat, when facing forward (towards the bow), is called starboard.Boating Terminology: The front of a boat is called the bow.The back of a boat is called the stern.Spaceship sides are generally referred to using nautical terminology, with the left side called port and the right side called starboard.Based on the perspective of looking forward toward the front (bow). he top is dorsal or zenith, and the bottom is ventral or nadir.A submarine hull has two major components, the superstructure and the pressure hull.
"Jatlh micro bacteria vo' marineris ghap olympus Mons" the interupting Klingon in the front row spewed. Speaking to his concerns of teaching fairness in a world that has more Oceans than land. Speaking through the inturpter he said Kerkohvians, and Lanthanites don't swim on there home worlds, they signed a treaty with microscopic being it prohibited there, why are you teaching them this? The Kerohvain then asked where could he find a penguin, he had heard they were delicous and plentiful on earth, and he wished to have some as food. He saw them in the simulatur, and began a longing for there flesh. The Klingon stood and told him, such is forbiddened and if he hear of him eating a pengiun while he was on earth he'd destroy him, as pengiuns were on the do not eat list for visitors to earth. The Aqua Tank farms in the rear of the solaar system had farms were pengiuns were raised as food for those who wished them as food or pets for thsoe who had the accomidations to raise them. The Klingon grabbed him and told his again that succh is forbbiddedned here why speak it?
in 1122 I’ll fall to the ground for you
princess O princess of rosemary dew
you know it takes two
to tango fandango
Delia – heartbound; foundling born tired
forsaken vixen of dying light
a submarine ghost
a rose dale long closed
infidel lost little girl still admired
her royal affairs of turquoise red
flew into the newborn on a death bed
into the rabbit hole of paranoia
that’s chimerical, that’s flamboyant
how easy can dreams come to an end
it’s noontide of deathless urban decay
in a separation station of her heyday
Delia’s timorous, cold like iron
living the fate of Sharon Tate
feeling redundant, Delia is
a scarecrow of the nameless river
her russet hair like abbatoir cleaver
it’s been a folly,
infamy,
end of me
end of a saint, soon-to-be sinner
she was the girl that was ill
Delia of the lavender hill
travelling light year by light year
Delia of the metasphere