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.
I want someone that is virtuous for me to come and keep my company. I want someone that is virtuous for me to come and write the next chapter with me. I want someone that is virtuous for me to help me find my destiny.
I have been sitting here for the past five years scribbling notes and masquerading in the dirt, with cuts and bruises on my skin and the bird above me singing an unfamiliar hymn; the cold wind blowing in my back while the perverts peep meticulously underneath my new frock. Daylight is shouting on the air with nothing positive to share.
I have passed the time in positive ways and cross my heart so that my spirit doesn’t go astray, and I sit quietly in the dark waiting patiently on that special verse that will break the spell and catapult me out of this living hell.
I have written a hundred and twenty verses about the desert in the sun and the aliens on the run, where did they come from nobody knows but they have the big boss thinking and the universe running.
I want someone that is right for me, to bring out all the good in me and respect my dignity. I have been searching for that special one that can sing in harmony and compose a majestic rhythm and when we clap our hands together, we can compose a million songs.
I want someone that is virtuous for me that knows about the history. Time is trembling on my lips and the maiden is carrying a pirate dish what’s for supper, I don’t know but heaven will see to it that we have a decent three course meal.
It is not about infatuation or puppy love, it’s about creativity , imagination, compatibility, mature love and strength; we must see eye to eye and we must go on a mission together in a dug out boat and a submarine floating above our heads; strategy is the key to survival and there is no parting between us until we die, we both have longevity and passion is our destiny, I want someone that is right for me.
Here I am standing on the abusive floor, and someone is knocking continuously on the door, the extortioner is running around the street looking for something to eat and the bad men are throwing stones at me, hoping to see the other side of me, but I shone them all and continue to stand tall.
I want someone that is virtuous to help me complete the race and get me out of this place and quite the hidden storm.
Who dare to go the extra mile with me, who dare to walk out of the struggle with me, who dare to tarry on the floor with me, who dare to set me free.
I stand on the mountain of time reminiscing the mysteries that have gone by, the earth in its fullness of the ages once stood flat on the ground but historian says that it is round.
I have no instrument to measure it, I have to use a dip stick to penetrate the ground to see what is there to be found, it looks ellipsoid from all side, but the mysteries are wrapped up inside. The dark ages have gone away and wisdom is here to say, if you go the extra miles with me I will show you something that you have never seen.
The tides are turning and the morning is glowing and the birds in the trees are singing a melodious song and the animals in the bushes are pressing on, they have been there since two thousand and nine wandering in the bushes without a dime, the people they have worked for have left them in the cold but mercy will soon find them a new home.
If you see a signal coming from the bush, check your source before you land and you will understand that those are the problems you did not solve and the people in the bushes are still waiting for you to see them through.
The mountain rests beyond the clouds and you have to get there before you grow old, there are some things that are hidden in the sea and you have to get the submarine to journey with me, I don’t have much money but if we partner together we will do much wonders, go the extra mine with me and I will get you out of the trap and open the land lock.
I have been waiting here for many years, with no one to take care
You are my only hope over here and the train is on time so please don’t miss the deadline, the heat is raging over here and water is dripping from my face and my body is soaked inside out.
Oh, what wonders lie in the sun, it is moving around the galaxy and it is ripening the fruits and sucking the energy out of me, you have got to help the youth before you make a move. I don’t have much time to spear so hurry before the furnace reaches over here. You have got to go the extra miles with me so that destiny can set us free.
The mountain is steep, the valley is deep and I have almost completed the fleet but need that extra touch to pull me over.
Most imp potent and salient playbook page...
'bout fluffiness of hair after washing
Now get ready for...
yup intelligent persiflage
determining if potty "talk" gauge
correctly calibrated courtesy this sage.
Beats out global warming
by a long stretch
most important commander
must set example you betch
chore life no matter
if miserable wretch
survives impeachable offenses
enough to make me kvetch,
especially four more years
yours truly will once again become
bulimic anorexic wretch.
Versus important crisis
of planet Earth,
where Gaia's bountiful
nature woolworth
analogous wharf resplendent
docks side of ships berth state
housing electricity generating
mined resources inevitable dearth
warming chill folks
courtesy homey hearth
reminiscent during inchoate
fetal nine months
in utero signaling imminent birth.
Quite understandable reasonable,
non negotiable, inviolable...
blah... blah... blah
scalp itching blather
particularly to prioritize
orange-blond hirsute fullness
upon rinsing sudsy shampoo lather
as expressed by this
post baby boomer
pencil neck geek father,
who attempts to walk poetic feet
across cyber sea
miraculously to slather.
Trademark seedy nonsensical
farcical gobbledygook,
perhaps posthumously printing
bestselling blank paginated chapbook
ghost written by Trump
titled Art of the Steal
detailing head and shoulders how to look
suave and sophisticated all business
swiftly tailored harried style shook
White House disguised himself as rook
key "Fake" incognito president
recruiting apprenticed bartered bride
slow vacuuming trophy wife crook
cow hoard milching, kickstarting,
inciting, generating... donnybrook
coiffing pompadour resembling
forefathers windblown periwig.
Nope not even one hair
mussed out of place,
as if teetering fountainhead
supporting Atlas shrugged
top heavy topples
and crashes scattering
bajillion easy pieces everyplace
analogous to humpty dumpty
each and every last vestige
vanishing without a trace
exiting out cloaca
subsequently intently watching
toilet bowl royally flush
clockwise if within northern hemisphere
heavy enough to sink submarine
haint no reason yours truly might gush
even if abominable ballast
saves queasy passengers
plummeting thru aerospace.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: White Boys
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/1995
I want to do
just like
the white boys
do -
Wear
six hundred
dollar
shoes,
and
dress
in
the finest
of
suits -
I want
a
six figure
income,
to splurge
at
Fred Segal's,
on
Melrose
avenue -
I want to
jog
with
my dog,
while
pushing
my child
in a
stroller -
I want to
send
my children,
to
only
the best
of
schools -
I want a
pristine
neighbourhood
in a
gated
community -
And
style
in a
Bentley,
through
Hollywood -
Just like
the
white boys
do -
I want to
live
in
Beverly Hills,
and
hob nob
with
my
constituents-
I want to
have
A-1
credit,
to
charge
on
Rodeo Drive -
I want a
foyer
filled
with
roses -
and
a
Butler
passing
out
horsd'oeuvres,
champaign,
and
caviar -
And
I want to
travel,
in a
Lincoln
Town car -
What
I really want
is
equal rights,
regardless
of
colour -
Just like
the
white boys
do -
Who
wouldn't
want to
ride
a horse
under
the
golden
sun,
on
the
beach
in
Malibu -
Just like
the
white boys
do
I want to
explore
life
under
the sea
in a
submarine -
I want stocks,
bonds, CD's
and
Ira account's
too -
a
Yacht,
Lear Jet,
and
a
home
in
Peru -
Just like
the white boys
do -
I want to be
in
every
television
commercial,
every
movie,
and
smile for
the
camera,
when they
call
my name -
Just like
the
white boys
do -
I want it
all -
even a
star
on the
walk of fame -
I want to
expose
the
myth,
shown
around
the
world,
that
only
white boys
are
doing
everything -
I want to
Sky Dive,
Hang Glide,
and
fly
in a
Hot Air
balloon -
I want to
fall
from
the sky
in
a
parachute -
I want to
golf;
play
board games,
and
speed race
in
a boat -
I want to
drive
a
jacked-up
truck -
and
lasso
a horse
with
a
rope -
Just like
the
white boys
do -
I want to
Snowboard,
parasail,
ski,
and
wind surf -
And
I want to
dine with
Royalty,
like
Kings
and
Queens -
I want to
be
on the
cover
of every
magazine -
I want it
all -
Just like
the
white boys
do -
We have waited for this day to come when we would finally pack up and run. We have waited for this day to come when or battle would be won.
The stakes were already high, and the decree was set for everyone to die, the Thoroughbred in the stable, the football and green gables were part of the clown that was destined to drown and so the guilt trip continued to take a dip.
History has proven to be true and it is loaded with information for me and you, the tennis on the court, the avenue and the boat and the people that like to shout.
I could not understand it all until the women next door gets into a brawl, and then the picture was clear about the enemies far and near. I wasn’t going to buy into it until I run through every line to make sure that the story fits, the author was authentic and the crypto currency was not diabolic.
I have thought hard and long how to sing the unscrupulous song, but the rhythm was not right when you want to roll the dice; the submarine on the ocean floor has finally made it to the shore all the creatures were alive and the misery was revealed in the middle of the night. White sharks don’t attack you unless they are provoked. They will not come near you unless they have something to say to you.
Where do I go from here when I have so much to share, where do I go from here when life has treated me so unfairly? I have written so many cook books yet I don’t know which meal to cook.
The past is gone and the future is yet to come so I have to focus on a recipe that speaks of now important, now is chaotic, now is unkind, now is reality and it speaks truth to the unfamiliar youth.
We have waited for this day to come when we could finally settle down, and have a decent meal and enjoy the cool breeze. We will not be running from tornado, hurricane or typhoon, earthquake will be things in the past and we don't have function in the dark . The climate will be balance and we will not have too much of everything .
It will be perfect period for the multitude to come out of hiding and join the big bands, the parade and the festivals all over the land, this is the day when you are set free, leave the stage and go in peace, the universe will embrace you and love will support you; this day will go down in history as your day.
At night of the Hight of winter, when from the Netherlands comes the brutal sun, lightning without rain
and at the same time clouds with frost, rain for a while, hail, snow and wind of the elements, large and small.
No end in sight; it is a day with a change, storm of clouds, storm of winds, shipwreck, submarine, decomposition
and the four veils.
No beginning and no end.
WHEN the moon in the morning or at noon is as bright as an orb, or almost, and it becomes night before the fourth
evening of the lunar month.
I, to stand in your light as in a spotlight:
I to look into the eyes of a crescent: love, flame, bed. You, great, powerful, oh so distant, as luminous as stars.
A desert of fire. At night you search for me.
THE cypresss of the monasticism are under your feet, the nuns walking barefoot, when they keep time, when they sing
while tying themselves together and when they put their tongues to the left and to the right in the custom of zdrakas.
On the walls of their chapel, near the chapel and the curtain, there are female saints, goddesses, whom they adore,
and those that they cover with veils and they cover with gilded haws. It is as if they were entering a house and praying
in front of the altar. The angel of women, whom they saw in a dream and whom they know to be linked to the will of God,
blazed with stars when they looked at her.
To them she is a light, a light that penetrates them like the opening of a wound. And they throw their arms over her,
when they press her feet.
That is how they pray.
WHEN i heard them chanting, I felt like a stone, as if pierced by the time of their desires. The stones of the market of Damascus
by the way of the river.
How have they lived, with their desire, like dew in their eyes.
I, my feet up, the state of being crushed, felt also that I have attained my purpose and that nothing remains, nothing is more than dust,
nothing any longer is alive.
One wind against my whole body, threw me to dust.
These are days of longing, of vulnerability, of vulnerability. These days. I stand like a young woman in front of a mirror.
Who is that person staring at me? Someone long dead and buried.
Everything that had lasted for centuries is gone.
I am facing my own death.
:: 11.10.2020 ::
My Dad Was Just a Lad
Part 2
He was on a brand new ship,
The USS Horace Bass,
The KEEL was laid in ‘44
APD would be her class.
With a crew of over 200 strong,
But for most, their first time out.
In the weeks and months ahead,
They’d learn what “WAR” is all about.
Headed out for the great Pacific,
Okinawa, at Hagushi anchorage.
371 Enemy planes shot down,
As our Fleet would vent her rage.
Then came those grueling days,
They called this duty, “picket line”.
The enemy must cross this space,
But heavy shelling is what they’d find.
There were occasional escort trips,
To Guam and then Saipan.
It broke the tension of daily fire,
Which was fine with every man.
Returning from such an escort trip,
A submarine blip came on sonar.
8 depth charges would be dropped,
Watch for oil slicks, on open water.
History was made April 25,
Bass had sunk a mid-size sub.
The only APD to, “git’er done”.
36 enemy, “sank” inside that tub.
It was the night of July 3 0,
Things were seeming very still.
When they heard the cough & sputter,
Of a crippled plane, out for the kill.
It caught them really by surprise,
Flying in darkness, fast and low.
Headed straight now toward the Bass,
Wanting to take its fatal blow.
The very last moment before impact,
That killer plane went o’er the side.
An aerial wire had caught his wheel,
Missing our ship, that “kamikaze” died.
One American killed, 3 badly injured,
More injured slight, but still could fight.
The Bass puts into Buckner Bay,
Ship & injured were soon made right.
They would be among the first,
Task Force 31 would find their way.
To take position way up front,
To occupy 'their' Tokyo Bay.
August 27, at 0810, Captain Flynn,
It’s official: Nagato admits defeat.
The last lone fighting battleship,
Of their Great Nipponese fleet.
Well now I pause to catch my breath,
Our young man will soon be home.
As thousands more hit U.S. soil,
So many of them, will feel “alone.”
Families were there, that’s true,
And friends, now by the score.
But they had not seen the suffering,
The deaths, and so much more.
* * * * *
Written by oldbuck to record for his
growing family, The story of his father,
and the brave fighting crew of the
* * * USS Horace A. Bass * * *
Cruel fate nixed our sites set for buying a hoagie
Yours truly and the wife
tended to some errands,
which included going
to the Limerick,
Pennsylvania Citizens Bank
for me to rectify
an erroneous address
indicating I Matthew Harris
purportedly and presently domiciled at:
96 West Miner Street
(and whereinthehellis)
Coaldale, Pennsylvania
18218-1017
which address listed after viewing
online banking screen
indicating Good morning,
afternoon or evening,
then scrolling down
to sought after preference selecting
either checking or savings account
then clicking on View
Statements in Document Center
subsequently choosing
timeframe, account and type),
while the spouse
patiently waited in a hot car,
(slightly more comfortable
than a cat on a hot tin roof)
then going to ALDI'S, GIANT
(the latter place
to dump off paper for recycling
and making a beeline to purchase items
in the clearance section),
felt sorely disappointed,
when a series of unfortunate events
(even Lemony Snicket
would have been dumbfounded)
occurred when earlier today
and last least on the agenda
found me headed
at the Royersford, Pennsylvania Wawa
for what I envisioned being
a mouthwatering (yellow) "submarine"
or just "sub" the general term
for both the bread roll and sandwiches
made with it in both the USA
and other English speaking nations
and lastly Wawa
right there in Royersford
felt jinxed cause we
(hungry enough to eat a horse),
could not purchase
(what both of us imagined to be)
our delectable aforementioned sandwiches
which DID NOT
find me being thee unsung hero
(regarding a damsel in distress)
actually courtesy using the EBT
(electronic benefits transfer)
SNAP food card declined part of the sale,
nor could I access (withdraw) funds
using a recently issued debit card
farcical indicating expiration date,
when the spouse gave me a dour
facial recognition expression
(and she feigned pouting like a child),
cause her husband
could not head back to the house
at Pooh Corner
with aforementioned treasured commestible
already finding us salivating
like Pavlov's dog,
which dude (who looks like a lady,
with sweet emotion,
especially after washing
and drying my hair) came back
to the car empty handed.
Well, here we were, me, Ernie, and Snowy on this new train,
Both of them were still inside my jacket and sound asleep.
I knew now that mice snored, could feel a strange vibration,
It came and went with a little wheezing sound under my ribs.
I sat there quietly and wondered now about our direction,
Figured it was most likely either west, south, or southwest.
Traveling any further east we would be heading for Europe,
I grinned as I imagined, that would be Captain Nemo style.
At 15 I could hold my breath for two swimming pool lengths,
Knew I'd need a submarine though for that big Atlantic pond.
Then I saw a sign along the highway that read, Mount Vernon,
We were passing near George Washington's home I thought.
I was in awe at that moment of the father of our country,
Would have stopped in respect but had no brake controls.
At least I knew now that we were rolling southward bound,
Later, saw some kids playing near the tracks at Jersey City.
Ernie and Snowy didn't wake up until we hit Philadelphia,
I told Ernie we were entering the city of brotherly love.
Ernie yawned and said, you mean the bulls there like us?
Well, not exactly Ernie I said, they're not our brothers.
Robert, you told me everyone are our brothers and sisters.
Yeah Ernie I said, but sometimes big brothers beat you up.
Robert, think we might meet some brothers here who love us?
I doubt it Ernie, not unless we go downtown into the city.
As we pulled into that Phillie train yard Ernie gave a sigh,
Robert, can't we sneak into the city tonight for a while?
Then Snowy chimed in and said Ernie, I'm afraid to do that,
Don't worry Snowy he said, brother Robert will protect us.
Will you Snowy said to me with those deep pink eyes of hers.
Now wait a minute you two, I said, I haven't said okay yet.
Oh please Robert, Ernie said, I want to go find a brother,
I know there have to be more like you who love us out there.
Ernie, people don't just love you simply because you exist,
You have to go out among them and show you deserve it.
They both sat there blinking up at me with curious eyes,
Okay okay we'll go downtown but don't say I didn't warn you.
(to be continued)
© Copyright 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
Rapid Response Turtle Team, R2T2, is their name, saving is their game!
They’re ‘Mary River Turtles’, headquartered in a submarine, but not tame.
Forever, on call: a better bunch of blokes, you've never met, is my take.
No one ever drowns, or leaves hurt, with them here, in this our Troll Lake.
They’re days are full, with Dragon, and the Troll Lake crowd, running a muck.
Imagine how, when Dragon barbecues, his fires get out of hand, yea, that sucks!
Fire hoses and extinguishers are these blokes’, most favorite playthings of all.
They even hand out towels, if you got wet, when the fires are put out, I recall.
Not to mention how great they are when Dragon begins to hiccup or sneeze.
Or when our penguins trip and fall, like little pinballs, yep, them, they retrieve.
But it’s always worth the trouble since; they’ve become family, true and tried!
They also teach safety and first aide classes, yes, they’re definitely, certified.
Apparently, we ALL are, here at Troll Lake, or so everyone seems to imply.
I think I know what they are getting at… And perhaps they are right! Sigh!
But the Rapid Response Turtle Team, are the best blokes, on this here earth!
As they command the hose, and it throws them all around, we fill with mirth!
It’s like riding a bucking bronco to them… but some how… the fires do go out!
They even have a medic mobile made from an old kids’ wagon, fully decked out.
Anyone, who can bring a submarine into our lake, sight unseen, can do ANYTHING!
It’s said: they’re agents sent, to protect Dragon, an endangered species. Honestly!
But, I think they’re here, to protect ‘US’ from Dragon’s, daily… dished out travails.
The Boo Boo’s he inflicts, are too numerous to count, between his fires and that tail.
They came to gain their muse, and be entertained by our daily, free for all, they say.
At night they’re guitars DO sing, merrily on, about all our crazy exploits, each day.
With pink tinted shells, and green algae Mohawks, they look like a true punk band.
And they say the submarine’s yellow, to honor some great and famous rock band.
Yes, they are a tad bit strange; but that just makes them fit in, on this, here land.
And we couldn't imagine life without them… They truly are… really, great lads!