Long Transport Poems
Long Transport Poems. Below are the most popular long Transport by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Transport poems by poem length and keyword.
(Gen. 1: 1, 14 / * Isa. 26: 4 / Isa. 43: 10 , Isa. 44: 6 , Isa. 45: 5-7, 17, Isa. 46: 9-11 /
* Acts 1: 7 / * Eccl. 3: 1-8, 11 / Mark 13: 30-33 / 1 Tim. 1: 17 / Jude 25 / Rev. 21 :6)
The King Of Eternity Gave Me Laser Answers
So That I Would Know of All Matters
That It's All Only A Matter of Time
Yes, All Things Are Set In Time's Prime
Yes, It's All Only A Matter of Time's Size
It All Comes In The Frame As Time Supplies
The Past, The Present & The Future All Relates
It All Devolves Upon The Time That It Takes To Make:
Once Upon A Time:
One Drop of Water Pierced A Stone-Face Into A Smile
One Step Then Another Paced A Walk, A Million Miles
One Speck of Dust Then Another Made Earth's Mosaic-Tiles
... of Pebbles Into Boulders Until The Many Mountains Piled
& A Child Grew From An Embryo, As One Cell Multiplied
All In A Matter of Time's Length & Scope & Steady Strides
Once Upon A Time:
One Thread Joined Another Until Its Sewn Into A Fashion Style
& Years Reached The Hour's Stroke That Heralded End of Trials
Each Separate Instant As It Happened - Produced History's Files
See - Its All Only A Matter of Time, All The While
There Is A Time For Every Matter & A Time For Every Thing
It's All Only A Matter of Time's Space, Track & Sync
So It's Only A Matter of Minutes In The Continuum of Time
'Til We'll Meet The Moment - All Is Divine
Whether Its A Hard Conclusion or An Easy Climb
Whether Infinity Is Curved or In A Strict, Straight Line
Whether We Fail To Find Our Own Finally Arrived Sign
Or The Start & A Stop & In The Middle That Binds
Its All Only In A Matter of Time ...
Whether That's To Catch Ocean Waves or A Winds Cadence
Or To Fly Thru Galaxies By The Speed of Light's Radiance
Time Is Ever Moving Forward & Spreading In The Distance
Time Has No Break & Man Can't Hold Time With Resistance
Time Is A Touchstone, That A Traveler Uses As A Chart
Minutes Are Modes of Transport, In Time's Non-Stop March
A Moment Is Only A Motion, of Emotional Import
Yet Whether Its Digital or Analog or Of A Sundial Sort
We Can Touch Time - From Our Own Back-Porch
Time of Itself Is An Interval ... & Time Is A Track
One Can't Rewind Actions & Time Won't Run Back
(Unless of Course GOD Himself Designates That Act)
But Time Is Organized & A Tamper-Proof-Fact
(Part 1 of 3)
Written & Copyrighted © : 9/9/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
Whenever you feel lost
Or when you feel to reset
To look back and feel refreshed
Click the “Home” key
It’ll open the door to inner prosperity
A heart filled with joy
For there’s no place like home
When you feel like something is missing
Or you are missing something
You look through the woods and see a forest
You finally decide to run away, don’t!
Click the “insert” key
It’ll make space for a missing heart
A missing soul
Or a missing leter
Then the letter makes a word whole
No need to panic, insert!
Each time you feel you wronged someone
Or there’s something making you look or feel terrible
There’s a key called “backspace”
You can hit it way back to fix all the wrongs
All the mistakes that find you mistaken
Forgiveness is such a key, no, backspace
A sure way to fix things
Anytime you foresee danger
Trouble lingering ahead, impatiently waiting for you
You know you’ll lose it
You’ll lose her, him, them
Click on “delete”
It’s there to save you from the bad
It’s not gonna happen
It’s never gonna happen
Then you know you are safe
When you feel squashed and need to make way...
When things are compressed and you need to breathe
Take a walk and visit “space”
Bet you’ll need this guy as often
Might become great friends
Don’t be afraid, you need air
And space is there to give it to you
Sometimes, in order to go forward
One needs to reflect
See what you have, or have had
Some highlights or flashbacks
Can go a long way
You need “PrtSc”, print screen in full
To observe for you what you cannot
Through the naked eye of ignorance
Reflect, it’s a good part of moving on
One wouldn’t argue that
Now and again you could use a “tab”
From one place to another
Hop forward, this is a slow train
Why not adjust and keep the format most suitable for you
This is your life, take a tab!
Whatever life throws at you
You know you are the only one
Who is in possession of this special key
It’s a key to happiness
It’ll transport you to any place you ever want to go
It’ll give you anything you need, and want
This key has a name, like no other
“Ctrl” is the only key you can ever use whenever you want to
It’s never far from you
It’s on both your right and your left hand side
Always reachable, always available
You should try it sometimes
Life can be computerized
But what if a computer is personalized?
Fragments
They will be...
you do these kinds of things
can't be helped
imagination Band Aids some call them
I know
you just do
fingers wrapped ‘round cold steel
it's then
it's now
differences slight
like playing marbles
tripod-cradled taws and steelies
"Bombers" "Pots"
"shooters" all
aim straight
roll in the hole
you wait a long time
you know there's more to touch
you'll cradle other steel
formidable kind
you know
you hope
you're a kid
you'll do your best
find other holes
aim and shoot
some you dig
some dug for you
explosions know indiscretion
hell...
they say beginnings never end
always renewing
like dawn's edge ever changing
reds oranges yellow
lying on your back
knew those once
before the night never ended
smell the smell now
it's all the same
keeping life going
safe
clean
sterilized
that's what they do
amplified speakers seek help
always there's a page
off the wall
in your battlefront ISP
headgear no different
always the call
always the request
imagination tools
battle tools
you know what's coming
you just do
the swoosh of auto-doors
distant sirens
always there's sirens
always there's arrivals
like now
drinking my coffee
another first day of a new year
every year so familiar
pushing through iron air
waiting to be free
to see a sunrise again
to know a candle still glances
but now
just footsteps
coming at me
a walk I've known
Bethesda recall
remembering when sight
remained at the ready
absorbing fetid squalor
half naked Afghan children
barbarous patience
staring wildly as we passed
elder's eyes theirs
we cradling shooters defenseless
smiling
until
too many buried IEDs
I adjust
steps almost here
sitting seems forever
that's wheeled-life for now
robotic legs in the works
back there
back in Bethesda
coming
coming soon
for now
standard issue dark glasses
covering eyes that once were
footsteps stop
standing now
in front of me
me
Taking my hands
"Lt. Baygen...it's a boy."
"Shall we...your wife is waiting"
my hands grip the steel
following todays fragment
forging yesterday's pieces
a doctor
an imagination beyond
rolling my hands atop the chrome and rubber wheels
my imagination Band Aids
how shiny it all is they tell me
this transport
this evidence
today's somewhere
will he let me cradle him
will he look at me with hatred or compassion
will he know we have made him
what he might become
fragments
longing
From the Elephant's diary
You find me giantly like Gulliver, huge and obese
but I met my doc, he said take it with ease....
for you big is more beautiful so eat more cheese
I am on my diet of sugarcane juice,
lush green grass n' tons of bamboos
Mammoth was my forefather not anymore seen
Now I know being gigantic is in my genes
Instructor at the gym shooed me away
for I broke his treadmill with my single step I say
We love to have our bath in nature's pool
We dabble water with our trunk till we are all cool
A relaxing shower for all friends after hectic schedule!
In our forest club, trophy for best music band,
we won last week for our trumpet troupe!
Large is our family my Jumbo uncle says,
Old and wise he is in our tuskers' herd
He says our eyes are small, to see
only little good left in this big bad world
And our ears are large to fan away
the gossips and bad we hear
Thick skin we do have so called pachyderms
to shrug off the hurling vices of the woods
but we have a large heart to spread
loads of love to all species widespread
In history, we have a place reserved
for in wars and royal processions,
we were used as pride symbols he says
Revered animals we are since eons.....
In country called India, heritage animal we are
and even worshipped in religious places he says!
Huge boulders or logs ,mankind used us for transport
We even entertain them in zoos and circus
But he regrets that we are poached, killed by men
to pull out pair of our incisors called tusks
who polish to make precious ivory to earn bucks
So useful and harmless friends to humans we are
I asked my uncle why so cruel the men are?
He said men show their power
of being Nature's superior creature
we elephant folk are helpless giants
We can do nothing but to pray that
we be valued for our selfless services and
be saved from going extinct from this world!
©Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak,2015
For contest: Giant animals
Sponsored by: D.Nathan
Date: 2nd September 2015
‘can’t change your family but you are free to choose your friends’
Michael’s brother is demented and only remembers the distant past
his parents are long dead they died in a car crash at illegitimate speed
every now and then he visits their graves and leaves a Match Box car
instead of flowers and lights a joint for Peace just to annoy them a bit
illegal traffic is one of the burdens of modern society and transport
luckily for him he fathered three children who don’t know what hit them
when he is diagnosed with cancer but they promise to look after him
a fortunate story of love and the transmission of generational kindness
life’s hardships are relative and sometimes a concept of irrational thought
now it stands him in good stead to have followed a path of emotions
Michael has chosen his own relative friends at free will and he
cherishes them all in equal proportions and knows how to relate
the Liberty to decide when to give and when to receive
undeterred by strict norms and unauthorized obligations
a notion of Justice derived from virtues and a moral law
from within along fairness equity rectitude without fail
Honesty in all his endeavours as much as the very truth
to be spoken when silence and falsification where easier
unmistakeable Charity in the face of a self-righteous world
requesting nothing in return because he is privileged by birth
Communication in deeds and in words without anger or venom
because once acted or spoken it is difficult to retract a position
most of all he is only too well aware that Perspectives are contingent
as well as embedded in context but that he can craft from his own Self
he Reads Writes Feels Reasons and Stakes his claim at times Surrenders
connects what seems to be relative but does not change on his last journey
Michael’s brother does not suffer from the loss of engaging with his relatives
his parents died a pain free death at the crossroad of the reaper’s stark scythe
and his children will tell his story outlook and attitude to relatives and death
he is a blessed man and he keeps a small vial of morphine for when time calls
his compassionate wife who by law is not a relative will help with the plunger
02 November 2020
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
in waves of creative delirium
Flying free~~~
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstasy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth with wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was meant to be:
Sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
“sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
waiting to be filled
with word seeds of ingenuity
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her as she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules...
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
in the sublime
she was oblivious to time
Ah....sweet release~~~
In the after glow
he wouldn't let her go
but held her safe and secure
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
serene in the knowledge
that beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she came looking for him
begging him to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to compel her to see
what life was meant to be
Poetry was her best lover
and she had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
than her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
"You are on a journey and all the answers are whispered without words"
Quote by _ Constance
I was driving on a highway and snow was falling
but, it was nothing to worry about
however, an hour out the snow was quite heavy
and a wind was blowing wildly
the highway slippery
around a curve the traffic had stopped
so, of course I had to stop too ... so I did
I was adjusting the radio when I looked in my mirror
and saw a huge transport truck coming at a very high speed
I thought it was going to slow down and stop, but it did not
my car was hit in the rear and I was flying over the cars
I looked down and thought ... how is this possible
it is as though my car had wings
and at the same time I heard a whisper "not time"
my life did not flash in my mind as I had heard happens
as my car came crashing down on the highway medium
and I heard a loud crunching sound
then, I was spinning and spinning, spinning
when the car stopped
the police were there and helped me out
I looked at my car and there was nothing left
from behind the front seat the car was split in two
a policeman said to me, "it was not your time, Miss"
as I was walking away the car was hit by oncoming traffic
that's when the tears came and I was shaking
there is no way I should have survived that accident
and I am quite sure there was a spiritual intervention
God, was not ready to have me with him in heaven
my whole body ached, and I was bruised
but I was not dead
obviously I still had things to do on earth
God had expectations for me
that is the message I carry in my soul
so, until it is truly my last breath
I will treasure the gift of life each new day
and honor the gift of words that God bestowed to me
that message I heard loud and clear
for we never know when God will call our name
and take us home ...
the snow thick and wet
fierce wind roaring like a train . . .
cars lay in pieces
______________________
January 13, 2023
Poetry/Free Vere/the whisper- not your time
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1517-416-13
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Spiritual Wisdom Download
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 01/16/2023
First Place
Away...
Spot her from far.
Have a tingle mingle all over your skin.
Award your forehead a scratch
As you do the arduous estimations
Of the remaining catwalk steps
Before her beauty kisses your eyes.
Let sanity flee from your mind.
(That's OK.Never mind.
Angels are never meant
For sane minds)
Coming your way...
Prepare to talk to her
Practise how to greet her
Whisper to yourself a greeting
Whose sweetness tricks
Your zygomaticus muscle
Into a seductive smile.
Then bite your lower lip alluringly
As the best Romeo and Juliet scene
Overwhelms the whole of you.
Enjoy the roller-coaster feeling
Of a heart that forgets its own rhythm.
A few minutes away...
To get on top of your muddled up feelings
And wake up the confidence demon
Wave your head in a 'NO' manner.
Grab a gorgeous gazale gaze of her.
Don't allow the jealous of a blink
To spoil this monumental moment.
Sink your nervousness deep
Inside the well of sighs.
Cast a blind eye on the people's eyes
Or acknowledge them as your cheerleaders.
It's about time...
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Elevate your hands like a clergyman in prayer
Just to inspect the odour of your exhaled air
That will transport your practiced greeting.
Regulate your lungs to spray your Rose
With nothing but the fragrance of roses.
It's time now...
Exactly when she gets near
Cockily say, 'Good morning, Madam.'
Immediately after the words slip
Away from the tip of your lip,
Remember that, 'Afternoon'
Is almost embarking on her sleep
And that the Madam title is ...
Cover your mouth instantly
As if trying to capture back the awakward greeting
Fancy the way she disguises
Her guffaws as a smile-
Revealing her pretty dimples
Concealed in the soft flesh of her cheeks
Almost...
Observe her as she catwalks it away
Leaving you dumbstricken all the way
Listen until her footsteps die away
Start scratching your backhead right away
Wondering which spell she used
To transmute your 'Hey Pretty Lady'
Into a 'Good morning, Madam'
During such perceivable old noon hours!
Blame yourself the whole day.
Tighten your fist like Muhammad Ali
Preparing to release his Sunday punch.
Then with a suppressed sigh sadly say:
TOMORROW will be a better day!
Tomorrow...
The cold wind of the Antarctic
Cut any warmth from the sun
We have come to measure the world warming
That has been melting the ice away
A satellite had mapped the whole of the continent
And had found something strange in the Trans-Antarctic Mountains
So an expedition was put together from the Mawson Station
I volunteered to be part of the expedition crew
We had flown to the mountains by a Hercules transport plane
And loaded our snow tractors high with provisions
So we set off in our two snow tractors
As the morning sky was lit by a low lying sun
As we neared the Trans-antarctic Mountain
We could see the snow was melting away from everything
Curiously there were stone structures revealing themselves
These were odd shaped buildings not modern in nature
So we drew lots to see who would go
To explore the stone structures we found
And I drew one of the winners
So I prepared wondering what was in store
We drove to one of the stone buildings
And approached what looked like an entrance
We walked through into what looked like a laboratory perfectly preserved
There were alien looking contraptions everywhere
We decided not to touch anything until we could have it studied
I noted that there appeared to be some things missing
We videotaped all we could see in the room
And left it all as we as had found it
On the way out I noticed some footprints in the snow
These footprints led to snow tractor tracks
We quickly radioed base and a drone to seek out the other snow tractor was sent up
We quickly returned to our base
The drone found the snow tractor after following the tracks
As the camera focused in on the the cabin
We saw that the crew was Chinese and they were armed
And they were heading for an Xi'an Y-20 aeroplane parked in the snow
They stopped at the plane and they stepped out
Then taking a heavy box out of the tractor
The box was quickly loaded on the plane and the tractor as well
In no time the plane took off and flew away
We reported this incident to Canberra
It was about six months after what was the Antarctic Incident
When reports started to come out of Wuhan in China
Of a new disease that started to spread and kill
I wondered what they had found in the Trans-antarctic Mountain Range.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore,
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie
exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
In waves of delirium
flying free
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstacy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her to come
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity, endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was mean to be
sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
and “sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her
for who she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
the sublime
tasted and lived
then to descend
to warm after glow
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
for beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
a poem child
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she
came looking for him
begging him
to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to wet her lips with the taste
of eternity...
Poetry was her best lover
and she
had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
But her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
This is a repost of a poem I wrote some time ago. I felt the urge to repost it. I'm passionate about poetry.