Long Tandem Poems
Long Tandem Poems. Below are the most popular long Tandem by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tandem poems by poem length and keyword.
Robert was a lonesome man;
Self-decaying waiting and wondering
Tragically he was a widow
Awaiting his love acquittal
True love he thought he shared with the heart
Of a woman fake men of I swear him and her forever
But her love was just a broken dream
A random like a river stream
Channeling from here to Dad it destroyed him
For always men it was only an instant Roberts love was just a ghost
But you see Roberts love was just a free lance tandem host
Robert's claim he could have never loved anyone the way he loved her
True love he really believed
It pains me truly old lonely Robert old Robert may you find companionship and happiness
3/11/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
I woke up one gray and melancholy morning
munching oatmeal and buttered toast, alone
same as yesterday, last week and maybe tomorrow
when I saw a whirling wonder flying down the road.
It whirled outside my windowpane
it whirled from head to toe
it whirled with neon pinks and greens
it whirled and twirled and flowed!
I saw a bicycle with watermelon wonder wheels
as it rode in tumbling tandem down the road
and on it sat a generous, plump lady ballerina
wearing bright red lipstick, holding a bright red rose.
She waved at me and smiled, as I gawked at her, alone
her hair flew wildly behind her, as she pedaled down the road
the clouds suddenly parted, and as the morning sun shone
joy filled my eyes, to see that watermelon wheel rider
whirling down the road.
Sweet Felicia wore a frown, as the distant thunder grew
Raindrops fell and nearly drowned, the beetles running two by two
We ran in tandem through the night, seeking shelter from the storm
In the distance shone a light, and in peril hope was born
A simple cabin through the fog appeared, as if a vision in a dream
We slowly walked, and as we neared, it was beyond a shallow stream
And now to wade in this cold wind, took all our courage and our grit
And as we rapped upon the door, the darkened window became lit
As the door swung open slowly, a bearded elder did appear
"Who is it, who wants to enter?" I spoke but stuttered as he came near
“We’re seeking shelter from the storm, as we lost our way back home
Our nerves are tattered, our wills are worn, this tempest chilled us to the bone”
The blind man begged us “come inside”, arm in arm we slowly entered
Felicia clinging to my side, the blind man asked us where we ventured
As I began to speak, a darkened figure did appear
My hands did shake, my knees grew weak, Felicia screamed as he came near
“What frightens so your lady friend?”, I cried “man don’t you know what you have here?”
“It’s just a visitor” the fool replied, and said we should no be in fear
Felicia hid behind my back, as this large creature held out his hand
I slowly held mine out as well, and we shook slowly where I stand
I realized what I just saw, was something spoken of in tales of lore
Yes it was Bigfoot standing here in front of me, I thought of heading for the door
The blind man said we all should sit, wait out the storm, wait ‘till daylight
So we all sat and had some wine, the blind man’s hand produced a pipe
Where did he get this wondrous herb?, that made my smile light up so bright
Before the clock struck once again, Felicia went out like a light
And as my body now grew numb, I tried to rise to no avail
And flying high now as a kite, tomorrow I must not tell this tale
To those who wonder where we were, on yesterdays long journey
We both agreed that we should say, we went to see a friend named Bernie
Always work in tandem, and...
Pray for one another.
Appreciate one another.
Rely on one another.
Trust one another.
Nurture one another.
Educate one another.
Respect one another.
Stand by one another.
Help one another.
Inspire one another.
Push one another to....
achieve greatness, always!
*This is also a shape poem*
Date written: 12/04/2019
...the way flight begins in the heart
Martin Steingesser
Stopping by the side of the road
I snap off armfuls of fresh lilacs
blooming in the universe,
a champagne bucket, tarnished
remnant of long lost wedding gifts
serves a worthy vessel of renewal
my thoughts drift with heavenly
perfumed air in my flat, acceptable
since I am repulsed by any flower
scent present at my Grandfather's
funeral when I was four years old
lilacs were not there
Pharoah Sanders captures my thoughts
drifting sweet streams of flute sounds
exhalting visions of peace and love
in tandem with Sun Ra
coaxing creative vibrations that sustain
and encourage my journey as I seek
sustenance from giving as much love
to my fellow travelers as my heart
will provide
grateful, the universe is endless
grateful
the
universe
is
endless
05/12/17
"Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other"
Anton Chekhov
~~~~~~~~~
Medicine, an in-pouring
Literature, poetry, our outpouring
In tandem setting into motion, vibration
Epitomising our being-ness by gentle resonation
Let then our medicine, oh hermit, be the love caress
Soft, healing touch, leaving us free of duress
Distilled and enriched within our heart
All souls one and none apart
We affirm in definitiveness
Bliss influx grips us in rapturousness
Mind body magnetised, one with the universe
Radiating beauteous love hues, as our creative verse
15-March-2021
Reveal your other muse poetry contest
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Earth Day April 22nd 2024
I lament bidding Gaia's creatures adieu,
an inner conflict dust brew
within this scribe, who offers ye to chew
(like sweet treats metaphorically) thee do
tee incumbent, when Doomsday clock
counts down minutes few
according Al Gore rhythm
unstoppably ticking,
when life gets turned to global goo
tenderized viz Doctor Zeus
if not Horton Hears Hoo
then most definitely The Lorax
(couching urgent morals underscored
by satellite photographs
showing melting ice caps or igloo,
which planetary sos, sans in extremis
requires joint effort of Gentile and Jew,
plus every other sectarian credo,
dogma, ethos...knew
clear family, and whatnot
to become linkedin with Linda Loo
yes, we moost not forget
Old McDonald's with his moo
moo there bovine creatures
agedly hobbling along, or new
lee born, cuz juiced one day
per three hundred and sixty five
(six with leap year -
imagine dragons festooned leotard
with brand name Oroblu
or poor ole Winnie The Pooh
eternally stuck in Rabbit's
hole sum Hutch as a queue
doth loosely form dreaming up and rue
men ate about the old woman
who lived in a shoe
mien hating solution
(burning the midnight oil) true
lee trying to remedy plight
of said bear character,
hemmed in courtesy
*****sapiens population explosion
whereat their den only
allows, enables, and provides
cubby hole view
perhaps unstated message being woo
king in tandem solutions to resolve
wretched condition of world wide web
possible by bridging differences
between me and you, and you, and you...
essentially everyone
comprising the human zoo.
Compartmentalization, as a curse is looming large,
As men in toto are fragmented into groups or sects
On grounds of caste, creed, sex or political affiliations
Branding some as powerful or weak or the corn and the chaff
Men or women, black or white, they are one,
And should be treated alike, without any scorn.
While men hold the sceptre of power, women stay marginalized.
Under their chauvinistic hold, they often get suffocated.
East or West, women are greatly stressed.
Concede it or not, they are beguiled n' oppressed.
For women of the East, it has been far tougher for centuries.
In some places, a girl child even struggles to be born.
The mother’s womb can turn her sepulchre.
Once born, no guarantee for survival
Fate like a haunting falcon with claws sharp and eyes intent,
Targets and preys on her.
Like a piece of organic garbage,
Unscrupulous hands may hurl her to the bin,
Or is bundled and cast on railway tracks,
Or discarded on crowded platforms!
If she out lives this, still vultures may circle round,
To feed on her flesh, raw and red.
No oracle or miracle, could ever change her life
None knows what awaits her or what’s her fate
Amid these daunting odds, she grabs life’s better moments
Raise happy kids, keep the family intact
Stick to the wedlock, be it a loop or a lock
Like a balanced acrobat, she does the tight rope walk
For the storms that rage without, to her, is less insidious.
Rarely is she tossed by the unseasonal blizzards.
A society progresses where walls are crushed down
Where all segregations are lifted and unity prevails
And men and women, the rich and the poor
Live and work in tandem, respecting one another!
Way back before this baby boomer waz astute
countless decades before aye became long in the tooth,
and also prior tomb ma sporting dentures to boot
fond memories rush more than so far back
envisioning illusory wind blown steppes
(wait...this visage belongs to thine
long since deceased maternal grandfather
hub hill eave didst hail from Kiev,
or some place thereabouts) within the mind
of this prevaricating aging
"FAKE" barnstorming ole coot
preserved records (those times b'fore cds or dvds)
and now rewinds tape when family of origin
celebrated Xmas secular Harris
house style rendition of Magic Flute,
though genealogy steeped in Judaism
recollections abound of boyhood mirth
devoid of rubric asper orthodox and/or reformed
Judeo-Christian religion,
which essentially means,
I did not give or take a hoot
nonetheless cherish fond memories,
when ma late mum
relished making a hoo ha,
and got tickled and pickled pink
rousing a hullabaloo wrapping presents
and jamming three knee high stockings
with healthy goodies such as fruit
cuz, as a devotee of Carleton Fredericks,
she frowned on giving out sweets
particularly to three children she begat,
and iced hill easily recall her poker faced
feigning complete ignorance and surprise
sheep played “dumb” as did father
convincingly not giving a hoot
puzzled asper neatly wrapped and
stacked gifts under decorated tree
while distorted reflections of stockings
fractal shimmers from metallic gewgaws
in tandem of nostalgic magic
worth mo' than any amount of loot,
perhaps Christmas festivities a flash point,
when some jolly codger (papa)
dressed up, sans Santa Claus suit
and petsmart dogs doubled up as reindeer,
whose canine barking, cavorting, and dashing
haphazardly set them on a direct route
to pandemonium as crashing trimmed tree
cacophony elicited laughter, punctuated
with irrepressible escaped bursts of flatulence
(ah wont mention hoof from)
that emulated a toot.
Written: November 10, 2023, For Edward Ibeh Contest
__________________________________________
As if to atone, I gaze into the obscurity of my soul.
When I glance back, I feel vulnerable, as in a hole.
A thrilling and ticklish time tumble in the future.
Whilst sorrow stitches, a suspect sears sans suture.
I still wear knit garments, worn with time and care.
The fights I've fought are icons of moxie and dare.
With the things I've done and how stout I've come,
A potent sight of mettle is where I'm coming from.
Whilst a place where shadows gleefully dance.
Where deception is woven in tandem, a prance
Fabrics of lies, woven from threads of deceit.
Embroidered by the demon aiming to cheat
Evil One, with his dirty lies and cruel smirk.
The worst delusion arises slyly from lurk.
A Janus-faced one stays hidden in the shadows.
Mere ambition to deceive and instill harrows
Janus-faced, dicey, dodgy, deduce the scene.
Ambidextrous by a sly smile, sharp gaze, unclean.
A cynical wolf in sheep clothes tricks sans shame.
Their fraud, plotting, and spite reveal obvious tame.
We can't hide the quilt of deceit, an art of smears.
Web grows with each knot, tying souls and ears.
A key prevaricator took delight in havoc, ruin left.
Only heartbreak remains in his wake, and bereft.
With an iron tongue, they lie naively and conceal.
Their faith is brief; it is phony, as they lack ideals.
In the gloom, they thrive with guile and strive.
Twisting and scheming with no regret or drive
But worry not, for honesty will always prevail.
Deception's weave will crumble into a false quail.
Pits of deceit shall cease, and lies will never last.
Truth will heal souls, as lying is torn with a blast.
A grim warning of vile traits shows guile.
Their souls are dark, and they generate wile.
Their authentic hues and pain will never heal.
Stay true and fight deceit with candor and zeal.