Long Terra Poems
Long Terra Poems. Below are the most popular long Terra by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Terra poems by poem length and keyword.
I gaze in awe at this beautiful setting;
The Greek isle of Samos I won’t soon be forgetting.
The sun shines bright in the azure blue sky
while white puffy clouds slowly drift by.
The calm Aegean Sea is an aqua blue;
the colorful fishing boats, they number two.
The houses on the hillside with terra-cotta colored roofs;
Off in the distance the clippity-clop of donkeys’ hooves.
The cobblestone sea wall is dotted with white tables
of the sea side cafes with the colorful gables.
The salt air can be felt in the soft summer breeze;
such a beautiful setting puts my mind at ease.
Somewhere in the distance a liner cruises by;
I wonder if the passengers are dreaming as I.
I sit in my living room feeling quite small
as I stare at the painting hanging on the wall.
The image I describe isn’t as it seems;
Alas, my Grecian holiday is merely a dream.
October 2, 2017
The last trailing tendril filaments
of moon beams nocturnally trace
fashion an illusory gilded chariot Ark,
whence upon celestial runners,
the approach of dawn's early light
illuminated terrestrial space
which nebulous solar city flanges
revisited since time millennial
hubbub of human race
nsync with Zodiacal constellations,
which appear to shift
as planet Earth axis place
alternated in accordance with
inexplicable universal teenage
mutant Ninja turtles joint pact
with power rangers assumption
sans quotidian playstation remotely
controlled by aliens upon
oblate spheroid figurative stage
set whence commencement nudged
village people foment quiet riot rage
and rant against
uncontrollable catastrophic frenzy,
when cosmic creator
rehearses another page
from playbook, which
color coded cobbled Bible
emanates with radiant hues
of yellow and osage
nonetheless, no mortal adept to predict
(only within plus and/or minus
some marginal variance of error).
oft times punishing atmospheric phenomena
incarcerated, pistol whipped
(if anther incorrect),
whiplash unleashed, oppressed, imposed
challenging condition testing ground
flora and fauna could thrive,
whereat most hardy
plants and animals didst abound
linkedin upon terra firmae
murmur of orchestrated
organisms devising fitting
evolutionary survival traits
plentiful glory vis a vis L'Chaim;
gnome hatter outlook required
sprinting thru uber vanguard,
where zero sum game pitted
disadvantaged Feng shui
living things poorly sparred mismatched
against itching attired egghead,
kickstarting netzero beastie boys
indeed emulating hotmail prodigies
holding greensward ground.
scrimmage fostered, elicited,
dictated, commandeered nature
going full throttle with pings
across biological labyrinth
positioning glommed, peeved,
mis tweeted seeds of life, and white lily,
within soil lent green grubby business
whereby herb and woody stemmed
recalcitrant proto flings
wrote toe rooter bakers
gave Gaia a run for her money
to buy Buffalo wings
chasing miscreants nimbly
outwitting, out-rigging
outsmarting nettlesome stings,
and sage protuberant fungi,
released messengers where rise home
spore ports left nada mushroom,
though symbiosis wood
bark a roll a cord.
With compass and sextant, paper and ink,
Bungaree, Nanbaree, Matthew and George
and a cat and a crew were at sea.
They went sailing and sailing, around and around
in Eighteen Hundred and Three.
The Investigator’s navigator calculated space
by meridians and parallels to draw Australia’s place.
With Tasmania as an island, and Bass Strait in between,
he mapped the coastal outlines with ink like lines of lace.
On an island east of Africa, where dodos used to roam,
he wrote a book, and drew more maps, in prison, far from home.
He’d travelled as a scientist; he’d met Frenchman, Baudin,
but, here to mend a leaking boat, they would not let him go.
The governor of the Isle de France let pirates prowl the sea,
but arrested Matthew Flinders as a spy and enemy.
Around Good Hope, after the siege -
from Mauritius, now British (not French),
back to London, sailed Matthew Flinders,
not knowing his days were brief.
Map-maker, map-maker, making a map,
right ’round Australia, and finally back.
Map-maker, map-maker, thanks for the book,
of Terra Australis and the journeys you took.
at the entrance to the drive-in church the road divides deceptively
the sign signals divisive directions but mediates midway at midnight
Saviour salvation spirit Satan superstition sacrilege
God giving guidance gluttony greed gyrations
resurrection rejuvenation revelations agnostics atheism antitheses
righteousness roadside assistance available ‘enter at your own peril’
prayers pious power soda pop popcorn psychedelics putrid paranoia
temple tables terra-firma trivia temptation tribulations
selfless sacred sustenance slivering snake salivating
the slow-motion picture posits poignant perusal but it’s a silent movie
apart from back seats groaning settling for sex sperm and splits sheaths
scripted sanguine suggestions sighs salubrious screams
sanctimony shelter serenity suffering secrets sneakiness
spare me serpent and ravaging rod please hit me with your rhythm stick
appease the apple anchor my appetite avert my agonizing aspirations
Eve enters the epic production while Mary Magdalene marries measure
suddenly the speaker system sounds in supersonic spectacle’s squeals
sheep and shepherd apparition or angels dreams or duped delirious dance
purity pinnacles pentacles punishment penetration perspiration
chaste cinematic celebrations cradling caresses X rated cross
on the way home the bubble and the tyres burst into almighty shreds
but the spare rubber went missing and God works in mysterious ways
29th August 2020
Perfect beauty
I gaze upon
the loveliness
of the dawning sun
glistening
in your hair,
that new sun dress
you were so
excited about
softly flowing
in the warm breeze,
geraniums blooming
on a terra cotta veranda,
vibrant red against
a morning glory sky,
a sparkling mimosa
in your hand as
pelicans float silently
above melodic
aqua marine waves...
then as you see me,
your mesmerizing smile
reminds me that
perfect beauty
is what I see
every morning
with you
Good morning Soupers
Lovely hate crimes spate – trumpeted violent trend
(posthumous playful note to posterity kith unsealed
courtesy yours truly once deceased and cremated.)
Whew...so glad tubby gratefully dead
butta shaw miss dug hid ole days
when violence highly overrated
unlike current rooted locked dread,
aye wax poetically nostalgic when Fred
Rogers friendly persona
already quaintly outdated
mutinous armed militia incessant childish
popgun lawlessness pranks ran amuck
indiscriminately fired
magazine round as bullets sped
whizzing to and fro, hither and yon
slowed then stopped by flesh,
while folks nestled abed
bloody sheets, yupper reckon
shot blew hole head
off, no necks time
no matter innocent victim led
virtuous life kneadlessly,
purposelessly, unfairly...
stole by bullet size Grinch, hmm possibly
just maybe, he felt put off and miss sled
by Whoever, thus mad as hatter his said
color turned fifty shades of gray
mottled with fire engine red
now, no matter such innocent chitty chitty
bang bang ruses by duplicitous
hotheaded hooligans bred,
cuz instead every man, woman and child
blessed, donned, gifted... with atomic warhead
absolutely crazy, but president instead
wanted even Steven playing field to win votes,
no matter constituents begged and pled
naught necessarily in vain
since humanity in short shrift
cleared off terra firmae,
another foreign species immune
to radioactive fallout sprung
out Taj Mahal fountainhead
of atlas shrugged ayn rand dilly read
deed planet Earth proof positive Q.E.D
drafted fiat whereby high
powered weapons packing heated lead
plus scattered nuclear bombs
melted than repurposed material
i.e. former munitions armaments purchased
hoof hull legal black market
into raw bits moon units instead
necessary for android robots to tread
carefully, but carry big stick,
when encountering dreamy eyed electric sheep.
The Left Hand of Darkness tells the story of a lone human emissary from Terra sent to facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization.
However, in doing so he must come to view in the differences of those of the completely dissimilar culture that he encounters; to embracing the aspects of psychology, society, and human emotion on an alien.
The planet Winter or Gethen inhabitants are hermaphrodite, a manwoman, to be respected and judged only as a human being made up of two major religions opposites in belief and ritual. One is mystical and inspired while the other is rational and philosophical. The novel centers on cultural proficiency not only recognize, but also embraces the worldview that each culture brings.
which gender my love
desire, sire or bare our child
while as a woman
The main conflict in this novel is man vs. society. Genly Ai must adapt to the unfamiliar society on Winter. The people of Winter are very different from the people of Earth. They have no gender and no sexual desire except for once a month. Gender roles are not a part of their society; the rules are very different from Earth rules.
music I listen
you are the earth, moon,and stars
mirror I see in
Lesson learned, he must make sacrifices to achieve his goals.
The book can be read as a love story or anthropological adventure.
2/27/2018
The Left Hand of Darkness written by Ursula K. Le Guin, published in 1969
Quote from the book:
Light is the left hand of darkness
And darkness the right hand of light.
Two are one, life and death, lying
Together like lovers in kemmer
Like hands joined together,
Poetry Contest: Ursula Le Guin
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
Where once verdant rolling highlands...
Spanned into infinite vista
far as these myopic eyes can see
now yellowing Whitmanesque
leaves of grass encompass field of vision.
Nary a dark dreadnaught cloud in sight,
nor unbeknownst if/when threatening storm
looms on horizon slaking parched land
delivering precipitation quenching thirsty terra firma.
I too experience vicarious dehydration
during bonafide dry spell
constituting theoretical string
hoop fully curtails weather beaten
flora and fauna
conceding blindingly bright
cloudless summer days
across disc (sky)
to amply liquidate shriveling assets.
Unbeknownst when spate of rainlessness,
(i.e. I pray for moderate soaking precipitation)
thwarting immediate indications
meteorologically signalling onset
regarding definition of drought.
Nothing more humbling
than cacophonous thunderstorm
nsync with jagged bolts of lightning
accompanying drenching downpour
analogous to downed wall of water
cascading from upper atmosphere
intermittently pelting landscape
albeit immediately, magically, quixotically...
transforming parched land (Highland Manor)
into profuse lusciousness
harkening Edenic denouement.
Impossible mission (this simple bumpkin)
(one local Schwenksville yokel)
(Civil War union soldier incarnate)
to forecast today/tonight
eventide of June twenty fifth
two thousand and twenty,
when Zeus will doctor
animals and plants courtesy
of requisite life source
also known as H2O,
comprising above mentioned
two hydrogen atoms
and one oxygen atom.
Ironic, how approximately
three quarters (seventy five sense)
engulfs planet Earth,
yet many environments
suffer inadequate deluges,
more so now with climate change
(global warming) increasing temperature
across oblate spheroid
compromising habitable places,
yet methinks coronavirus (COVID-19)
gave mother nature
much needed reprieve
cleansing heavily polluted urban areas
courtesy partial lockdown and restraint,
whereby *****sapiens
deterred, jackknifed, prohibited...
spewing noxious forth fossil fuel byproducts
encouraging, mustering,
plying, telecommuting, zooming
avast array of activities
augmented by virtual reality
technology supplanting mass transit,
thus diminishing deadly toxins
absorbed by all creatures
great and small.
An interest in past life and extinct culture became her passion
Led her ultimately to take up a research project in Archaeology
After studying the course of early history of world civilization
She decided to delve into the obscure subject of Roman pottery.
Of the discovered shards of many motifs and various forms
The class of ‘terra sigillata’ pottery fascinated her the most
The ceramic table wares had an exquisite finish and gloss
Their possession could have made Roman noblemen boast.
Her research demanded she should understand and learn
How potteries of this kind in recent times are made by hand
After a long search she found an artisan in a remote town
Who in his home made the ceramic wares of his own brand.
He set the wobbling wooden pottery wheel to slowly turn
The lump of shapeless and sticky clay between his palms
Started to take shape in curves of the designated pattern
Replicating the rippling contours of his moving strong arms.
As she watched him work sitting for many days close together
She felt fluid love creeping in and taking a shape in her heart
Like the clay lump being molded by his deftly moving fingers
She wished them to caress the curves of all her body parts.
So she wanted him to teach her how to turn clay into a mold
Wrapping her around he guided her hands and nimble fingers
Taught her how to make for uncontained love a vase to hold
She wished the romantic grip of his hands would last longer.
The touch of his bare skin sent in her waves of sensuous signal
She looked into his amorous eyes in silent acknowledgement
Like clay shaping on the turning wheel their lives would spiral
Pottery research forgotten on Roman honeymoon they went.
September 30, 2017
The young men sat, planted under the overhang
like the pansies and geraniums that surrounded them in boxes,
as the rain pelted the terra-cotta terrace.
The mountain air was sharp with the taste of lightening.
Having bid farewell to the arched shard of a rainbow across the valley,
they sat tensely watching the celestial bombardment of Katmandu.
The lightening stoked the day’s heat,
thickening the early evening sky like the yogurt they’d eaten for lunch.
A home-made rice wine poured freely over their tongues
from an innocent looking water bottle.
Their eyes turned garnet with the harshness of it.
The bottle sat with its tattered label, upon the arm of the white chair.
The wine within tasted faintly of the gasoline,
yet, they reveled in it, and the freedom from deep seeded societal traits,
it freed them from.
Overhead, the sky was draped in a bridal veil of stars;
as I emerged from the room to sit beside them.