Long Totters Poems
Long Totters Poems. Below are the most popular long Totters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Totters poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m tired of the teeter-totter polemics
that pass for profundity.
I’m tired of the see-saw tug of war,
the streaming regurgitation on every channel.
Yes, I’m weary of the predictable posturing,
the vapid, barren landscapes of the oligarchy.
I am groggy in the dull fog of capitalist pretense,
the plutocratic hubris sold by carnival barkers.
I am worn down by the endless banal chatter,
the mindless daily clutter flooding all our
electronic screens, all our senses.
Scientists in a million years will
try to decipher our primitive etchings.
Our digital scribble will remain.
Will they recognize our AI ventriloquism?
Will they distinguish us from chimpanzees?
I don’t have answers in my advancing years.
I’ll find cozy books and trees instead,
while we still have them.
Matthew 6:22
22The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. 23But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!
if therefore your third eye be open your whole body is light
pure energy gathered from the cosmos is an inherited human right
but because of the cosmic battle we were disconnected from the father
and the balance of humanity is on a scale that teeters totters
if the bread of life is the word of God then show me how to eat
and if bread is all we have then how can we enjoy the meat?
i know this sounds so fascinating and so very hard to accept
but our imaginations and our thoughts are often left to neglect
if men would only love he would see creation at its best
but the mind is swayed to imprison love in the cavity of his chest
guilt and fear is the venom concocted by other beings
transferred to the psyche by mans collective feelings
if we can listen carefully we can hear our inner cries
the cataclysmic events that induced the turning of the tides
Lumeria and Atlantis was where human thought was key
as the balance between their forces brought the world to its knees
both civilizations were doomed from the beginning to meet their fates
as the portals of each dimension became a closing gate
each gate was locked for a reason, specifically we do not know
but only in our collective consciousness can a picture start to show
if thoughts are really physical as scientist do suggest
then how can we not believe if we never put our thoughts to the test?
we live in a multidimensional universe that we have little access to
but the key to unlocking true potential starts with loving you
"FAKE" assertions unstoppably
bandied with beef,
(sans doughty deeds done dirt cheap)
courtesy of commander in chief
trumpeted as a way to backout,
embarrassment analogous to the thief
of Baghdad, when culpable faux pas
woe philly pops thought balloon of mine
reckons with transparent "good grief"
within mind of yours truly,
who finds himself dumbstruck
aghast, and shaking noggin with disbelief
how people can be so gullible
who would just as lief
eat a pin cushion to deliver strep throat relief.
First amendment teeter totters on brink
of dissolution mainly by the rat fink,
whose defamation against journalists
risking life and limb, yet not shrink
king enlightening liberal minded, who think
similar to myself, imposter
hood drums utter rubbish
while feeling teed off puttering
along Mar a Lago,
or another owned golf link
resorting to silence protesters
whisked off to the klink.
Distortions, (nee outright
blatant lies) saturate
social media platforms,
which followers didst rate
as their numero uno slate
supposedly reliable sources
harkening back to papa retaliate
Tory Bush prez administration,
regarding patrilineal shogunate
where Iraq summarily
targeted for crashing Kuwait
violating, jeopardizing, and
compromising vital oil, literate
folks suspected, that critical
lubricant mandatory to resonate
greasing western civilization
particularly self anointed great
super power USA, hence
alarmists didst exaggerate,
whose military intelligence
industrial leaders got irate
contracting complex projecting
global economy would vacillate
and, perhaps take Kamikaze nosedive
hence procrastination could not wait
demanding based on sketchy accusation
Saddam Hussein, and his ilk ultimate
harbored weapons of mass destruction
despite lack of distilled proof,
would severely truncate
nary a trace sniffed out,
nonetheless damn the torpedoes blitzed
in an effort to triangulate
miscreant running amuck
eventually met demise
with Bush Junior delivering
permanently placating tete a tete,
no matter dispensing top notch
fighting soldiers, whose strong
lifeless bloodied bodies remain prostate.
hidden in my memories is a playground ...
where I played ... as a young girl with my friends
I remember it so clearly like I am there
the children laughing and shouting
running around
it is a nice memory to recall
~ the playground was not far from our home
and I went every single day
except in the rain to play on the swings
because they were my favorite- I went higher and higher ~
at that time there were seesaws (teeter totters)
monkey bar structures and merry-go-round spinners
but, nowadays they are considered too dangerous
so playgrounds in my city don't have them anymore
but they exist in my memories ...
~ sometimes mom made me bring
my little brother so, I would put him in the sandbox
oh, that kid could spend the day building stuff ~
our park had a wading pool shallow on one end
but a little deeper on the other like waist deep
of course, there was always staff around for safety
I really liked the slides and little bro did too
I remember the playground as being quite large
the ground was grass ... and parts had sand
in the winter there was a skating rink that I 'loved' ...
~ lots of wonderful and forever memories
I have from those carefree childhood days in the playground
and of summer and winter delight ...
... now, let me gather up my yesteryear memories
and put them away ~
Life boat totters on the crest of a wave
of turbulence ! Me lone sailor on sea.
To reach destination, propelling brave.
Halcyon horizon not yet to see.
Violent vibrant vortex, rough and tough
Life boat totters on the crest of a wave,
falls unstable sinking at hole of trough.
Up down thrust of waves convex and concave.
Tornado - cyclone hostile to behave.
Indigo hued horizon too far.
Life boat totters on the crest of a wave.
Me desperate to sail, chasing despair.
Valiant, valorous on adventure !
I must vanquish holocaust and save
the vessel from sudden burst and rupture.
Life boat totters on the crest of a wave.
What will this day bring - its gifts
of lingering sunshine & flower storms,
the thundering of xanthous hues,
bright beams of crimson and green…
What will this day bring - a knock
or a ring, my feet go, the wheel teeters
and totters, the pedals pressed
for nearly an hour. A welcomed guest
of my father. His tongue will not sputter,
but will speak of his thoughts, memories
and belong to me for a lick of time. I
lean into his smile, his voice, his melodious
sadness at times, lessened by the years.
Who can cry anymore, only resign to loss.
He always compliments on the scent
of the familial cooking even before
it reaches his nose - a habit I suppose.
I learn, only from subtleness of his likes,
for Dad is not given to complaints. He
will not hide his ills but neither does he spill
all his aches and pains out like a feeble man
for he is of strong stock, not given to the sport
that some old people tote. He climbs the stairs
each day - his computer, clarinet, and boxes
of stuff are there - my husband thinks his things
must catch air, be sorted, thrown out, before
they become our load to carry. My spouse thought
our kids stuff should have been taken when they left -
not realizing, life doesn’t work that way. There is
staying power in life and death, wheeling &
dealing in its time, not ours. Settle in, stay
on course, make the most of the Summer weather.
Oh the gifts a day brings - knocks & rings,
a traffic storm, pasta shopping, saucy &
cheesy bubbling, dusting and vacuuming. I
live for such productive lingerings - blessings.
6/27/2023
Loaded with Loathing
The row was canine inspired.
He had a dog he treasured; enriched by its love.
She felt cold jealousy; starved of misplaced affection.
She wanted it gone; he wouldn’t hear of it.
One evening he returned home,
his beloved Henri had mysteriously died.
He blamed her; she faulted him
saying his heart wagged like the dog’s tail!
He could never forgive;
she would never show understanding!!
They now station their days, opposite each other.
He, in his old leathered, tethered seat;
she, in a rather mundane, cane chair.
He often appears to be sleeping
but the occasional crocodile slit
in his eyelids belies this;
she knits, he knows nothing escapes her,
not even the tightest, slightest twitch!
42 years together, a nettlesome relationship turned to hate,
42 years together, neither is willing to let the other win.
So they sit there hiding in plain sight.
He, lounging as if possibly dead
but probably breathing through his shoes;
she sits there imitating a ventriloquist’s dummy
minus voice and…. inserted hand.
He occasionally serves up a small, sliced smirk
which he sneeringly warms himself on;
she washes it all down with a cold contempt.
Her eyes are guns loaded with………
loathing and disdain.
In contrast…………
two love struck pigeons
now perch on the couple’s window sill.
The streamlined female pigeon
dreams of her latest Dove purchase;
the male is formulating his latest hai-coo poem.
They both have a bird’s eye view of the situation
and conclude that the couple's relationship
has more than lost its....smile;
melancholy is both master and mistress!
He occasionally stutters across the room,
slamming the door like an exclamation mark!
Eventually he totters and teeters back,
apparently opening the door like a question mark?
He has gone out to comb his hair or whatever,
a quick change of disguise, anything to annoy!
They are both, presently, in the final straight;
a race where the winner will only come ... second.
They are settled in, conditioned, waiting to see
just which one of them will falter….and flatline first!
Ian Souter
all roads lead to rome
they used to say
i contemplate the roads I travel
the milestones of oneness
the monuments of memories
i find they lead not to a city in italy
but to our home
walking past the red brick church
where we exchanged vows
joyful, joyful we adore thee
polar opposites: you in white, I in black
each proclaiming "till death do us part"
and here we still are
praise God from whom all blessings flow
riding past the park
where we strolled with the little people
talking to chipmunks and waving at sparrows
accompanied by the soundtrack of early parenthood
the wheels on the bus the itsy bitsy spider
pushing happy swings and riding giggling teeter-totters
growing up together
finger tapping on my steering wheel
our song dances out of the stereo
so happy together how is the weather?
pulling into the driveway
at the end of my appian way
salty smiles coursing down my cheeks
red bricks swingsets favorite songs
all thoughts lead to you
written 13 Feb 2023
[according to wikipedia: "Romans ... were masters of road construction. Their roads began at Rome, where the master itinerarium, or list of destinations along the roads, was located, and extended to the borders of their domain – hence the expression, "All roads lead to Rome".]
I
The depth of steep, hellish ascent
darkness abides, the peak obscene.
cliffhanger of sweat, the creature bent
attempting to climb, make a dent.
No wind brushes away the hair in her eyes.
She recalls nothing of birdsong or sunrise.
A hunchback of time, minutes pass slowly.
Diamonds glitter, the sun beats boldly.
Like a desert walk the road is parched.
With a sting of bumblebees she marched.
II
Delightful descent of diamondiferous slide.
Easy-peasy pleasant, air-conditioned ride.
Beautiful petals of friends, flutter of wings,
a moon full of stars, the universe sings.
Bare feet, toes polished bright pinks and reds.
Canopied four-posters, wide open beds.
Trees with jade and ruby candies, sweet
to the tongue, as she tells of her wild treat
life, retreat with angel feathers, falling
for her many handsome men, wailing
on her silken sheets as she says so long
to the coddlesome place she knows she belongs.
III
Suddenly the slide falls out, the flames shoot up.
She drinks the potent blood from her chalice cup.
As her fear and anger explode, the fire grows hotter.
The ground like a hurricane ship, teeter-totters. Sinks.
IV
Her twin stands tall, as a snowy white sail;
blue skies, the eyes of God, she hails.
All torment wiped from her brow, she’s strong
She climbed upwards by the narrow way.
V
Don’t take the easy ride. It’s a bottomless pit.
Fly to heights of eagles wings - the depth of eternal lift.
3/13/2021
Draped in the darkness of the night
In a weather so dull and blight
Sad thoughts like a deadly shooter
Come out to bombard her outright
Shaking off their fitful slumber
They rise from their inert stupor
From the reservoir deep, spill out
As through newly opened shutter
They come from an unknown hideout
As all trace of life to wipe out
Unable to block the current
She totters in a drunken bout
They spill forth in mighty torrent,
With a beastly force violent
Like an angry mob on long wait,
Infringing all rules, nonchalant
Caught in the vortex of that spate
Her body began to gyrate
She lost all her sense of balance
Her sad fate, no one could abate
May.13. 2022
~Placed First~
Rubaiyat Poetry Contest
8 syllables per line
Rhyme scheme- aaba-bbcb-ccdc-dded-eefe.
Sponsor- Sotto Poet