Long Swum Poems
Long Swum Poems. Below are the most popular long Swum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swum poems by poem length and keyword.
Turtle so slow
Has emerged from below
How does he breathe down there
Without any air
Don’t ask me how
At least not just now
I’m feeling a bit peckish
And could stand a nice fish dish
Earlier, I saw some bass
Hiding here in the grass
Ah, I see you there
Swum by with no care
I will have you my pretty
Though you are itty bitty
With a frawnk and a swoop
I will fly around my loop
What’s that in the deep water
By that pesky old otter
Shinny shad make nice meals
If I can just close the deal
It will never sense my presence
And I will leave only my oily essence
A last lunge and a lurch
And I’m off to my perch
I’m the most graceful of birds by the way
And really should be in a Monet
I sat in restless chairs
I breathed stilted air
what feeling compares
with feeling squandered?
I’m not sadfishing,
I was bored in a 5-star hotel.
I’d swum the Atlantic - in the underground pool
and I felt like I was marinating in boredom.
It was as if the loudest thing in our suite was
the sound of my eyelashes flapping up and down.
I wasn’t in solitary confinement,
Lisa was there too - and just-as bored.
She didn’t complain, 'cause she’s ‘New Yorker’ stoic.
So I started complaining for her - for the team.
We’d filtered every boutique,
sampled every eclectic café,
there’s just nothing to do in Geneva.
It is an implacable reality.
Peter (my bf) was at work all day and we were on vacation.
It’s different when he’s around.
He walks into the room, and I feel like
a phone that’s been placed on its charger
- the world lights up and I get - charged.
“We should make a list,” I'd announced, “‘the pros and cons of boredom.”
“No,” Lisa said, “Let’s name fun things.”
“Fruity Pebbles popcorn,” I started.
“Girl panda makeup” Lisa offered,
“Foot massages and bubblegum”
“Cotton candy and sunflowers”
“Holidays and sparkly things!”
- we went on and on and on and -
“kittens” I updogged dreamily, then I switched subjects completely.
“We need to go to Paris.” I announced, with a tone of relief.
“Oh yeah?” Lisa asked, with a little side head-bob.
“Actionable intel,” I whispered, “Grandmère wants to see me.”
Lisa gasped, adding, “You’re in TROUBLE,” drawing the last syllable out slowly.
“That would be a first,” I laughed.
“Kisses!” She exclaimed, resuming the game.
I remembered the first time I thought of kissing Peter. The thought was a flash, an emotional Rorschach test and I smiled. It was like a movie kiss, an abstract heaven - not the breathy, erotic kisses of real life.
“Where’d you go?” Lisa asked, grinning.
Some emotions are too thick for words.
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Songs for this:
Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan
Disco Boots by Gavin Turek
Caught between two storms
Payne's Gray painted hurricane
A tempest that churns ... inward
A girl waits, you see ...
Hopes dangling on a new heart
The perfect match thrums my chest
I have filled life's cup ...
Sipped of the sweet and bitter
Stained welcomes with its nectar
Worked until weary ...
Loved to depths and with passion
Swum up souls like rivers, sweet
Regrets? Yes ... and dreams
But if 'twere mine once again
I would surely live the same
Still, I'm in no rush ...
I've gazed the reaper's dim eyes
Felt his keen breath on my neck
I don't welcome him ...
But there's a new life, precious
A little cherub, dying ...
Let this storm take me
One last swim in the cold brine
One last gift ... for an angel.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Fives And Sevens" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.
(Syllables = 5, 7, 7, 5, 7, 7 ... counted at HowManySyllables.com)
Ryan has been plagued with illness,
So took a swimming break in 2014,
But managed to be selected for Rio,
Where he made the finals freestyle.
He possesses mild Cerebral Palsy,
Which affects his right side and foot,
And after on this foot an operation,
For rehabilitation he did swimming.
He’s swum since he was five years,
And when he was eleven he raced,
For the Dovercourt Swimming Club,
To progress to race nationally, UK.
Someone spotted him aged eleven,
And coach Dave Champion taught,
To him the freestyle and backstroke,
Also the butterfly - he swims the S9.
At an International Meet, chilly April,
2016, Ryan swum the 50m freestyle,
In the qualification time for the Paras,
In the finals, 8th place in 26.76 secs.
Hastily stretched, crackled urgent ocean edge relents
Ashamed attempt to escape rejoins campaign of mass
Furtive dig below propels conspirator spasm, next next
Murders brash bouys, cranky spa champagne embrace
Swum undulations, bare back mermaid's dips resurface
Her furvour ploughs halobiont plenty scape, nourished
Snapped lobster lavishly celebrates bountiful turquoise
Sway gaze brazen by bobbing safe island encouraged
Crill swirl sweeps dripped lips, sun baked rock decreed
Beacon mound majesty painted daily in sea gull exhalt
Coconut snow flakes sparkle on cockle clamour bleed
Wave blown eroding scales slow exhales evaporate salt
Ripe globes ground reaped glug nectar so gluttonous
Fibres hibernate ivory rich liquors tipsy Secret Benefits
Land languish survivor devours sugar shards sumptuous
Wipes moreish mouth aft treasure trove haemorrhages
Fifth May
Finesse Saves
Awaiting bristled whisper of ghost jounced leaves
Lain gazing galaxies far from terra's tarpaulin roof
Exciting diamonds claw for cosy navy ink reprieve
Hark my insignificance in succinct majesty's truth
Hushed by muchness, my warmth absorbs His plenty
Lapped by luminous lure, iced gateau half eaten moon
Crumbled among sudden calm of Master's immensity
Awash in melodic acknowledgement, midnight's tune
Flung hungry flouresce of surged fireflies fighting
Tenure very temporary, attempt to reach realisation
Spread as cake laden table, sugary array imbibing
Drunk on the gifts of gateau smile faced dedication
Heavy sun slumbers elsewhere, heat not apparent
Reality rests unreadable, dispelled from night haven
Swum in wonder of dark desire, denying my errant
Shot stars instrusive find my heart entirely enslaven
19th October 2020
Written for Contest : Collaboration
Sponsored by: Silent One
Five ducklings feeding
The back of the camper bus
proudly sported the family
seven yellow stickers ducks
five little ducklings in a line
feeding on life presented to
the world growth sustenance
nourishment and meaning
For every fellow traveller
to ponder smile anticipate
what little team was to alight
at temporary destinations
sheltered tented playgrounds
swings and roundabouts
cul-de-sacs and traffic lights
To get all ducks into a row
once they emerged enriched
our little feeding station
food bank vital well and
fields of plenty needed
diverse and un-divided
attention chaos letting go
Meal times at times with rubber
ducks in bathtubs burping
passing winds of change
incorporating kilojoules
compassion love and swirling
compromise uncertain certainty
floated in the ocean of life
yet to be swum and dived in
with the buoyancy of living
Little duckling was still small
and sat beside as older
sister eager helper supervisor
when our triplet power three
in one as courtesy of nature
and individual little mouths
to feed lay on their backs
on sleeping bags as wonderment
in waiting for the spoon with
apple mush and cinnamon
to take its turn to reach their gums
To complete the pentagon
of childish folly serious fun
and exploration another little duckling
observed from inside womb in
its fertile spring to yet conjoin the river
contemplated when and where
to splash out into beauty question marks
and tribulations sparkling brotherhood
and food for life and pleasure
whirlpools cascades and little ripples
The spoon went one to one
and to another next to here and
there forward backward and beyond
my wildest expectations of what food
and feeding holding precious gifts
in hand released from nature
into nature ingesting measured
unimaginable and definite provision
nurtures nourishes what was what is
The birds have flown the nest
they feed and feed me just the same
and it is not just those trivial stickers
sign posts on the buzling bus
and more than ever and for
every one who wants to see the
picture depiction metaphor
the unsurpassed experience
which reminds me of simplicity of
gratitude and feeling warm inside
24th May 2016
Busily flicking possibilities, swarmed faces swum
Fishes flipped fast before the following
Murky harbour deep, screen swallowing
Clear impression of traits innate to individual ones
Flash of fin colour, gleam of sleek opalescent flank
Specimen slide best sides on show
Shallow images only clues to know
Intention is an open heart or a self engrossed wank
Beginner on Tinder thrown tasty bait in the deep end
Victim to fisher desiring a dinner
Real reason so seldom admitted
Deliciously caught before thoughts on loving depend
School density indicates potential pool hasn't a limit
Hanging keen line back in again
Hook mouth acrews horrid pain
Superfluous organs scatter float faithful love's inhibit
11th November
- Damn internet cheapening
of our valuable hearts -
Harboured feelings a f ucked up game
I believe in oceans
because I read
I read that they are green, and gray, or blue,
amethyst when daylight packs its cloudy bags
I believe in oceans
that they are more than waves and water
that there are beings who breathe inside them
plankton that drift in the current
algae, seagrass that wave to invisible companions
jellyfish, dangerous and translucent--
I believe in these.
Giant clams, who slam their engraved doors
on breakfast,
Phosphorescent jellyfish, undulating their many legs.
I have mused on the brittleness of crabs
and whales so colossal
that a planet might have swum by.
I tread brokenly on the constant earth
bruising when I fall
gulping the uncolored air
anxious for the future
believing in oceans.
I‘d have climbed the highest mountain
I’d have swum the deepest sea
Just to see your face my darling
This was just a dream for me
How the years they have flown by
Since you left my heart to break
I was left with such a longing
Of the love you did forsake
We had talked about our future
That together we’d grow old
You got charmed by another
And you left our happy home
I am old and I am weary
And my hair is streaked with grey
Just to see your face my darling
This is all that I can pray
Many years I tried to find you
But my search it was in vain
You’d got married and had children
And you’d changed your maiden name
I’d have climbed the highest mountain
I’d have swum the deepest sea
Just to win you back my darling
It was never meant to be
Now I’ve found you live in heaven
And are free to love once more
All I pray that when my time comes
You’ll be waiting at the door
You’ll be waiting at the door