Long Tows Poems
Long Tows Poems. Below are the most popular long Tows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tows poems by poem length and keyword.
ARROWS & TOMORROW
We sow
It grow
With hoe?
God knows
It shows
We pose
Hell rose
So low
Shooting arrows
Bleeding rose
Bloody nose
Oh no!
My marrow
Ahhhw!!!
Pain, slow,
This arrow
Body hollow
Drill holes
Full bowls
Bleeding holes
Eyes close
Arms froze
To toes
Death ooze
Overdose
Like booze
Too close
Need coals.
Its cold.
Don't go!
SAY NO!!
NEVER SORROW
HOPE TOMORROW
Float solo
Like Jack-Sparrow
Saw tomorrow
Now arose!
Everything goes
Away in-tows
Hole enclose
Heal loopholes
Life
I choose,
Because
HE lives
I CAN
Face tomorrow.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2015
O, I see you're coming back to Ella
of the Cedar's Tale, more and amore,
as she gets between your skin, like a beetle at bore.
Lang-wishing, fang-wishing her wiggle,
at open door stairs case on her forest floored.
This tales tail like a Cedar, mystery umm'biblical,
Laurel lining in-cyclicall of
Maples that get swathed,
in rainy season's roots spreading tows
in brackets math tables of shoots and ellipticals.
In shadows deep,
where whispers weep in the will o's
the shade desperately tries to cover
her in-seep of soil, like a tree snake in coil.
Ella of the Cedar, her name echoes clear,
a flame in hearts, dancing ever near.
The Cedar's Tale, algorithes, quickened, Time Ago.
A story sung where the wild winds blow.
Her spirit fierce, like a fire untamed,
a haunting melody, forever staking claim.
Lang-wishing, fang-wishing, the night's embrace,
unveiling enticing worlds with ethereal grace.
Her voice, a river of silk, in moonlight's glow,
imbued with sapporon, a delicate flow.
Washes a ways canopy, Kimono.
This ancient grove, where memories reside,
Ella of the Cedars, she'll forever abide.
Her resonance lingers, like a bittersweet sigh,
a poet's muse, beneath the moonlit beams
taking a bite of darkness in injection plunge and hallucinogenic strobe of light, slide.
So let us listen more, to Ella's whispered lore,
feel her essence as it stirs us to the core-
occupying like a lush dream.
In her words, emotions seam to adorn,
a garden of feelings, once in dormant sea,
now align with the O Pines scent of new winds whip of greenery creams to soothe like a suave poultice of potpourri over the mind pine al g land ent C.
In every verse, a wish song''s awakening,
sultry synthesis,
a bud delicately reaching for the light,
in a chamber of trembling treble,
naughtiness probing.
Lyrics to linger, imprinted deep,
like the rings of a tree as
counting your time of bondage..
Stirring souls,
harvesting their reap and frontage
of fond-agery.
The story continues beneath
the eventuality of hopes chest
pounding, hearts in the surrounding raw,
pump of primal, Forest maw.
Ella sets her sights...
Feelings of despair dredged from the murky dephths of my past
Hoisted through my corroded conscience's porthole
Reconnoitering barge of restitution pushes despondent thoughts through my inner being
Then tows the shame and guilt of my depraved condition to mind's hatch
The murky dross of yesterday's sins seeps deep into my addled psche
The residual guilt oppresses my soul
The brackish bilge of cankerous jealousies trolls through my grieving spirit
My trembling hands grasp the anchor of remorse but slip into the deeper moor of penance
Earlier missteps have my struggling feet sinking ever deeper in the quicksand of hopelessness
The smokestack spews nautious fumes from the froward deeds of my virile youth
My shaky rudder teeters as the raw sewage of past debauchery overwhelms my senses
Sailing my sinking yacht to the edge of sanity and rational existence
Carried along by the unsettling currents of inconstancy and vacillation
Docking in the harbor of reclamation and recompense
I know there is a God
Because He is the only one who
Counts the tears my soul cries
When my body and mind are numb
From the barbs of enemies and swords of friends.
I know there is a God
Because when I finally break the surface
Of my pain, gasping for understanding
To breathe humanity back into my being,
He throws me a lifeline and tows me to a place without judgment.
I know there is a God
Because when the elevator shoots to the top floor,
Butterflies churning, blood turned to bubbling adrenaline
He meets me in the stars, and never pushes the down button.
I know there is a God
Because I have faced the darkness of night that doesn't promise a sunrise in the morning,
And I have lost pieces of me to that eternal blackness
But remained whole, and felt the assurance that there was yet a torch burning on the other side that I would see again.
I know there is a God
Because undeserving of even the slightest reward for my last-place finish in the human race, He presented to me the most precious of trophies. I hugged my trophy close, and vowed to coach her to a better finish . . . Eyes on the prize . . . Not running, but stopping to notice every step, to relate to every face, to find and fill needs like potholes in the track. But most of all, to show people she knows there is a God.
Creating avatars in political and law reality,
contracts and controlling stability.
Modus vivendi where the money flows,
oceans of spirit fears in tows.
Irresponsible silence of motions,
honored sheep’s and their devotions.
Munchausen’s syndrome via comic book,
kindly bulling with every look.
Home at causes, churches and cult,
never able to see the own insult.
Insisting on taking over and fixing things,
manipulated moments for the kings.
Being aloof with natures flawless bound,
no key for the self chain can be found.
Pride in the unfathomable meek,
pointing fingers to the seeming weak.
Motivation all about themselves,
to shine in opportunities like sparkling elf’s.
Taking care of this the millionth time,
when the world needs them in that golden frame.
Justified by abusing others because of it,
stories of the leading role in every bit.
In control to the freakish point,
if not involved so bitter anoint.
The masters and puppeteers put them in charge,
then everybody loves a hero at large.
Inside the water
where they float or sway in their rusting roots
are horse tackle,
buggies,
unhinged parts of eighteen wheelers,
a girl on a tricycle, her bones still cycling in the drifting meld
circle squirrel and possum pelts,
The sludge of a dredging flow
tows bodiless pockets of former times.
No one can tell what is missing, what is still surfacing,
what is now lathered into womb-bearing suds.
A wake nibbles banks, it heaps up
headless pomades,
a filigree of funnel cake,
cotton candy,
half drunken sups of rum,
antedeluvian arrow heads,
the painted missing parts of the once and will be.
A momentous loss drifts by, is found by stooping gulls,
their screams almost musical
on a carousel wind.
Under the brittle reeds late summer copulates with
eddy,
churn
and jism.
There are corroding blooms between spent shotshells,
condoms colonize cattails,
belt buckles beckon
to forsaken underwear
that blossom now like pale squid.
The river slops together every wind-plowed recipe,
blends the newly-unearthed
with the long abandoned.
A backwash seeps moon-spills,
or drives a John Deere deeper into boggy entrails,
while barges slowly push each muddy footprint
toward empty shoes,
sunken slippers,
pumps,
loafers and boots
dropped somewhere between Pittsburg and the Mississippi
yet still moving along.
Forever won’t understand those who can’t stand sand between spanned toes
Clever bands of hourglass strands slows & then through fanned hands flows
Whatever woes foes weather throws our duty never this beauty booty forgoes
Skilled kids build guild of silica Basilicas in a row the sea rids closes in overthrows
Waves then mow rave to & fro saline scarves pave new paths the ocean bestows
Commotion heightened emotions brightened notions enlightened its potion glows
Kaleidoscopic schools of iconic rock pools colours flock shock as almost tropic
Views & hues don’t falter just alter won't halter as an altar to ease those blues
Tidal tows doze then rose grows tease with unctuous but rambunctious blows
A beach can preach beseech as each single shingle does mingle in a stony knoll
Seaside stroll as sea gulls glide white caps roll & ride then a lull soothes the soul
Flattered Neptune’s role shattered shells scattered or is it Poseidon’s control
Webbed ranks of ebbed sandbanks lapped by lullabies our own private atoll
Thanks for phalanx of mirth & pranks from mother nature’s glimmering vaults
Shimmering seals leave their berth heave their girth then those crests do surf
Dolphins fins spin big grins senses halts & assaults with immense somersaults
What riffs could be a good as being stood in a neighbourhood of driftwood
Whiffs of whimsy as swells rollick for shells we fossick our elemental tonic
Cliffs adorn scars of scorn by time foreshore gentry stands sentry well worn
Don't mourn as from dawn till dusk forlorn foresworn somehow feel reborn
Sniffs sublime seaweed frolic fish like stars sunbeams & daydreams bucolic
Oh, how weary the lost must be;
Misguided by their history—
Searching a god particle theory.
Where were they when the word sang
Let there be light? Herein was the big bang!
But they couldn’t rise to the height--
The almighty word transforming into light.
Wisdom does indeed dwell in contemplation;
Out of darkness comes true revelation—
True revelation revealing we are the children—
The children of light—children of the energy of the sun;
The essence of all when the divine cosmic word is done.
Maintaining audacious faith in the risen Son
And belief in the divine design
Cosmic equilibrium tows the line—
A new day is on the horizon
And there’s no doubt, justice will be won.
RING RING RING SAME BELL SAME BUILDING
Ring tows the bell
That beacons calls the 1800's children
Rope lead down from the bell tower
Ring, ring, ring
Goes the sound of the same bell
That calls all the Christians to this same building
Now doubles as a church on Sundays
Worshipers deacon pulls the rope that rings the bell
Come one all worshippers all
Tow rings the call to heed the ring of the bell to praise the Lord
This same rope that holds the bell
Greets school children and church worshipers
Monday through Fridays and Sunday mornings
Ring tows the bell
That beacons calls the 1800's children
Rope lead down from the bell tower
Ring, ring, ring
Goes the sound of the same bell
That calls all the Christians to this same building
Goes the sound of the same bell
Ring, ring, ring
Goes the sound of the same bell
6/04/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Her eyes scream silver carnage,
The glitter of white death,
The glare of shining ice
In the gloom of coffee shop forenoon.
Clouds obscure the sun
As pain destroys his lungs,
Searing orb light
Scrapes his face,
Freezing rips his flesh.
Her glance,
The flash of open eyes,
Erupts with numbing frost---
The unknown heat of burning foreign gales
Sweeps through him.
Tearing swift and silent
From her glossed and pale eyes,
A solid sheet of lightning, earthbound, dances,
Scorching ice---
Flickering, unleashing sombre brooding lustre.
Sparkling silence in the peaceful calm
Compresses, folds, collapses,
Forcing air to leave his chest
In desperate surrender...
Borne on frenzied rivers of the rushing light,
She pulls him under,
Tows him down---
The crushing pressure of her eyes can kill.
Don't look away
Or stop to breathe
Or break the pearl spell---
The crystal bond
In half dead light
Above our coffee cups.
Some more mocha java,
My chickadee?