Long Three dimensional Poems
Long Three dimensional Poems. Below are the most popular long Three dimensional by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Three dimensional poems by poem length and keyword.
As an armchair admirer
of nature's fury viewed,
safely and soundly ensconced
within solid brick
poetic walls maneuvering
the electronic pointer
with a mouse click
accessing real time
while Hurricane Michael
rendered innocuous
in three dimensional
color enhanced electronic
data communicated, sans
packets intently scrutinized
by scientists tracking most
up to date images
transmitted upon flick
ring trajectory yearly
"storm of the century"
on expansive, expensive,
and cataclysmic, dynamic
explosive renderings aye
figuratively bow down,
with humility espy
ying (courtesy of
revolutionary remotely guy
did sophisticated
unmanned drones) high
lee effective tracking systems
accurately pinpointing
like an arrow
enroute to target, the near crow
wing future path
said natural maelstrom
predicted to follow
displaying emergency hot
(er...rather wet) spots
i.e. emergency
shelters people must go,
the latest destiny as Michael
rowed the boat ashore
all the way ta "eyed" hoe
vividly showing across
large panel screens broadcast
ting thee, where furiously fast
latent powers, (albeit
weakened in strength)
will spend the last
cyclonic one two punch viewed
by humbled mortals like me
to the world wide web
spellbound by massed
harried churning atmosphere,
extent of damage
assessed once hurricane passed.
That three-dimensional solid so symmetrical,
Suggests how life could be - understandable,
With only six faces, all square for equal sides,
And a formulae to describe what makes us stable.
This staple of stability is taken, unchallenged and assumed -
The rational is included unthinkingly in life’s plethora:
Carted to anchor that which horrifies and saddens,
And bread to float and strike chords which harken.
You can also make a cube into a sphere,
That circular goddess that looks like a globe,
Reminiscent of the earth’s fullness and dwelling,
With freedom, liberty and happiness so giving.
It has space, dimensions and co-ordinates,
And its tesseract is plottable on a graph;
Other polyhedra can be related to it
Its symmetry mutations of tilings laugh.
Understanding and sense derive themselves well -
You can't laugh at the cube’s skeleton;
Furnished, not flawed or gaunt by posture,
It's structure sits regally for exposure.
Descriptions are it's glory, that flushing realism,
The Cubism movement pushed academic boundaries;
Said that paintings can be made of shapes and cubes,
Which built a monument to reductionism’s theories.
That we can be reduced down to basic matter,
Particles, atoms, cells and molecules,
Is cubism's gust and enterprise for all,
Who gather so as to hear its paintings flatter.
I love cubes, and always have,
They’ve offered hope in times of despair;
Their eloquence and beauty spark with naturalism,
With natural life’s inevitable repair.
This years holiday took us to Madeira
an island of exquisite beauty so rare
having a history rolling back decades
raising its inhabitants looking so fair
Columbus himself stepped on this land
before heading west, America to find
UK's war leader Churchill came to paint
loving the peaceful place W.C. signed
The capital Funchal truly majestic
a city with its own story centre
three dimensional shown all its history
richly blessed what could be better?
This island has indeed such a nice climate
throughout the year its warmth varies little
making its tourism of such high regard
it's an important priority no matter how brittle
The mountains and greenery so luscious
looking down on its boisterous sea
as well as its winds which do vary
even the aeroplane bows to freely agree
What a picture this land paints
with all its wine, fish and its fruit
all this excellence must be tasted
such richness grows at its very root
(Reflections of a recent holiday spent on the lovely island of Madeira near Portugal.)
My virtual friends have virtually become my besties.
I could see my human friends if we were not having a pandemic
But we are, and I have grown closer to my besties now.
They are more open, more willing to share their feelings.
They post photos of their breakfast on social media.
I never see what my three-dimensional friends had for breakfast.
They tell me when they are steamed about something.
Nothing is hidden. It is all twittered and tweeted.
My human friends have been replaced by my word with friends friends.
People I have never met, and yet I play games with them for hours at a time.
My dog and my cat are the only non-virtual friends I have.
I barely remember to feed them anymore.
Feeding them takes me away from my computer, away from my I-pad.
Away from my Zooms and FaceTimes and game playing with my besties.
My life is different now. I can speak to friends in the middle of the night.
They are wonderful to have around to help me deal with boredom and insomnia.
'Twas a night before Blue Light Specials, when all through Ebay
Not a bargain was found, not even an iPod
The stockings were empty and coupons in disarray
In hopes that Uncle Sam will bring me a rod
The children were angry: "We want our money!!!"
With visions Three Dimensional dancing in their heads
I, mamma, in my 'kerchief pulling hair looked so funny
Had to get second job selling relaxing, cool beds...
When out in the driveway arguments and loud chatter
I sprang out of my office, see neighbor and Repo Santa
I went out to calm them and asked what was the matter
"Need to get his wheels", said he while drinking a "Fanta"
And away Santa flew, ere he drove out of sight
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!"
For Carolyn's Contest: "Commercialized Holiday Humor Contest"
IMPRESSIONS of REALITY
becoming
enmeshed
in endless
detail
in the shadows
startling
depictions
turmoil
&fireworks
with
extreme reactions
the
interconnectedness
of
change over
time
raising questions
reflecting
the influence
both
inspire&
surround
to
shape ideas
&present
emphasising
the integral
soundings
& thus
showcases
the
three-dimensional
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
A paper man
Under paper clouds
The sky is falling
and he doesn’t know why
His edges are folded
He feels he’s undone
There isn’t any warmth
from a paper sun
Cellophane grass
Cardboard under feet
He has a paper girlfriend
With a paper heartbeat
His feelings feel flat
Just a few wrinkles
Paper snow is falling
A tinfoil star twinkles
A world of my creation
I just want to feel
Hoping my sky won’t fall
Nothing feels real
I’m three dimensional
Under a real sky
There’s hope beyond clouds
When my mind tries to lie
So I grasp for happy
A bit of pleasure too
Even when it’s not easy
It’s just what I do.
Inspired by a friend.
As men we are taught to keep our feelings to ourselves and suffer in silence. In 2012 I went through depression and it took me a long time to look for help. When our feelings are flat and the world feels two dimensional, seek help and reach out to a friend. There are people who love us. There is no reason to suffer in silence. Colour returned to my world and I am thankful. The sky didn’t fall even though in the moment it felt so real.
Primary colors resonate in my soul
Bringing my art to life, making it dance
I do not toss things together without inspiration
Frog and Cat by Karel Appfel have clung to my heart
Simple lines, but intentional
Immediately in touch with my childlike self
We throw paint onto a canvas, not willy nilly
But without full intent
Karel’s influence lives in my dendrite pool
I capture my youth, she wields the brush.
I begin, singing a song of joy
As paint splashes onto a canvas
But how to make it three-dimensional?
This is part of the joy of an Appfel
Sure he had a few canvases
But his sculptures were more enthusiastic
I wonder at the idea of a sculpture class.
Am I ready? Am I good enough?
Am I excited enough?
I sure am!
for now please imagine generic
fairy tale characters
analogous if you will
to possessing physical, livingsocial,
and three dimensional
corporeal form (at least until
the end of this poem), and compared
to computer generated imagery
makes this request rill
lee not that impossible,
far-fetched, or difficult,
and most likely already
a done deal, hence nill,
null, and void might
stop the average
Joe, Jack or Jill
dead in their poetic iambic feet,
but would defeat
the purpose i.e, kill
and bring to abrupt violent end
my (very questionable)
"FAKE" purpose plus,
disallow me to distill
crazy literary whim of mine swill
culled via injecting
lifelike characteristics
into morality tale creations,
perhaps first heard
as nursery rhymes, drill
ling moral, perchance told
to your own chill
darn in tandem
with Cain and Able
by the likes of
Aesop, Brothers Grimm,
or Greco-Roman myths assume
Chicken Little, Casandra, and the Boy
Who Cried Wolf maybe
owned reason sound ding doom
and gloom alarm, and ignored
at their own peril,
when subsequent "FAKE" fume
issued turned out to be bigly,
yuge fire and fury
actual threat didst loom
(way before Trump
coopted those elicit terms),
and truly aye wonder
no lawyer got
called for said room
errs, which revision would
make them more apropos
for today and tomb
morrow, when generations
of future boys and girls,
yet tubby conceived
in the womb
hence law suits would result
into bajillion dollars
costs would zoom.
Hyper.
The start of tail ends.
Like floral patterns at the end of the light.
Hyper.
Takes me to the dark, blank staring competition with an immortal being.
And effortless drags me through.
Like a skidmark being burned away.
But lives another life like a bursting lightbulb.
Hyper.
I was hyper one Tuesday.
As much as that imaginary skeleton, brittle, undone.
Spilled coffee as if it was on purpose as cutting wrapping paper.
Hyper.
The start of tail ends.
I ate the last of the floral patterns.
Everything is as three dimensional as that staring contest with a skeleton.
I turned hyper one day.
Turned into a spit out T-shirt with chew marks.
Tuesday.