Long Trident Poems
Long Trident Poems. Below are the most popular long Trident by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trident poems by poem length and keyword.
Bubblegum is sweet and chewy
Blowing bubbles can get gooey
When it pops inside your hair
Trying to pull it out with care
Doesn't work neither does washing
SO scissors are used for forcing
Out this yummy ooey treat
That every kid loves to eat
Trident and Dentyne caress
Your mouth with a nice freshness
So people aren't scared away
It also helps with tooth decay
Bazooka Joe was really fun
Comics wrapped around the gum
With funny jokes and prize points too
Gifts could be mailed to you
Zebra gum was full of rainbows
Colored bubbles you could blow
Different flavors in each stick
Finding your favorite was the trick
Chicklets are so cute and square
You could take them anywhere
In a box they are protected
The smallest gum that was invented
The best gum came in a pack
Of trading cards you could stack
And trade with all of your friends
Complete collections int eh end
People chew gum everyday
A trend that is here to stay
Being chewed so merrily
A treat that is happi8ly
Part of everybody's world
But please don't be like the girl
Who was acting so stingy
And turned into a blueberry
As the waves crumble to the shore
And doze the seagrass to a still.
My love will always pull back for more
And come back only for you.
I will wash across the sands
And bring you crest and troughs
Of rippled naughty musings to make
You smile.
I will bring the awesome power of
The moons and the sun that stand
Still like a broken clock.
I will jingle across the rocks and bring
The rhythm of angel wings
For you to dance.
I will conquer the essence of love and life
Itself and stay steadfast with the wind
To breathe through your hair.
I will push the claws of gulls and pelicans
Into squawk and haste towards the clouds
To reach you.
For you are the shore that I crash for
I have brought thousands of tiny shells
To feather your ears to sleep.
I have knocked down sand castles and shovels
Buoys, conchs, and the promise of my heart
to wash over your body.
I have come to dance across your toes in gentle
Embrace, rushing between your legs
To bring you home.
I have harnessed the power of Neptune
With my trident and a piece of the Universe.
Searching for your body to be with mine.
To form one ocean again.
And become timeless until the end…
like the tide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raging, inviting. Inscrutable ice
King Neptune's daughter, her moods are water
You won't dive into the same ocean twice
She'll make you think it's your net that has caught her
Catch and release is her patent device
Wives tales have brought her whales to the slaughter
You'll receive notice of your sacrifice
on paper she folds into boats at high tide
Each kiss that she blows grows to gale at shoreline
She weighs on the scale that you chose to define
She's the grate of the sand. She's the dock. She's the bank
She will wait on dry land and watch you walk the plank
In their wake, sharks leave trails with their fins in the brine
but the trident that pins you makes marks you can't find
and impaled, you give in to each heartbreaking tine
yet forget every time that you sank
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My heart felt old; I sought the cold.
Canada’s land was what I planned.
Among trees grand and far inland
To dance my sad brand of sarabande.
Yet precious moments come when joy flowers,
Far briefer than Four-O’clocks,
As resurrected visions composed of spectral smoke,
Reignite our love in brief rapture; abruptly fading.
Far from the shores I now abhor
Where eyes of blue were wrenched from view;
A grisly depart for my sweet heart -
A rag doll tossed and dragged into the deep.
Winter trees in chiaroscuro
Cuffed by icicles grip and snow.
Dark, defrocked beeches beseeching;
Limbs pleading for the sap of Spring.
Staring into those leafless woods
As cotton obscurity falls;
And gloaming passes into night,
Something I see sheds its dark veil.
Life bursts anew; I plainly view
Your windswept raven hair framing
Jeweled eyes and lips set in tan
An amaranthine vision of
Our ancient love, so evergreen
Waiting sweetly in the deep snow.
So near, so there, but not now here
A snapping branch broke quietude.
Daring damsel of Tavira,
My heart still glows at thoughts of thee
Cuddled close on Algarve beach
White wave swash foam tickling our toes.
Our brash love was a high wire act
Done without any safety net.
Diving the sky, diving the deep;
Scaling the peaks; dancing in Rio.
Passion flowed allegro con brio;
Alloying us ‘neath moon and sun.
Until you vanished in the swirling sea
West of the sandy swath of Algarve.
Stolen, seized by a great white shark
As your surfboard raced past mine.
Absent your smile my life seems spent
As if impaled on Triton’s trident.
Yet precious moments come when joy flowers,
Far briefer than Four-O’clocks,
As resurrected visions composed of spectral smoke,
Reignites our love in brief rapture, abruptly fading.
2/11/2019
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
A she pinwheel,
spat bombs and stars
smacked them around with metal wings
folded them, as hearts embalmed
(Napkins on a queen's postmortem
buffet).
Hid her heart(deep)well,
so well
they thought she may have the stubble
of a trident tail-
Many tasted her sweetened flesh
she devoured theirs...
they messed with her web
then tumbled to their death
(a used meets a used lament).
They became bombs or stars,
were forgotten
but they never forgot her
but I knew her core-the warmth of it all
it came out once a millennium (give or take-broil or baked).
Like a saccade (warmth with high-pitched confusion)
a desperate song revealed
high in the trees
low in the scrub
under waves
the skin of the sky..
the grave and the gate.
they ate her flesh
she devoured theirs
we knew each other to the core
and perished.
and no, this isn't about you! So save your harshness for when I write something about you
Our Smith's dorsal in violent recline
Begins to rise from a great decline
A shoulder sets right, up into the socket
A hip sends shivers, boiling up like a rocket
Shapely and stoic, taking up a stronger stance
Webbed feet emerge, formed from the manic dance
Along with the teeth, the fingers and the toes
The digits are now sharing a body with their foe's
Still, without eyes, the journey will be trouble
Still, our Smith, pushes on through the rubble
Still, the Cot, seperates warmth from the cold
Now, the Names, travel through ashes to behold
Our Smith has reached the edge of the Cot
Now a little further from green and red rot
The temperature rises and rises and never peaks
And along with it...small, quiet, swelling squeaks
"ShInEr, BrIdGe, TrIdEnT, JiA, KoLe, NoUgAt, PoRtEnt, QuIlLa....."
Our Smith is shuddering in rigorous motions
The bellows bend, and blow away notions
"MiLnEr, GeRiL, SuIkOpIna, BlItHe, NuMbEr 6, SeEya-"
Our Smith turns their ear to the now silent flame
And finds his current situation a shame
With no way to see, his trek will be tough
So tries to recall what made his meal have enough
The teeth in his face, still gooey and gross
Twist in and out, in absence of a nose
And replaced in the centre of his malforming mug
They line, all but one, in a mouth all snug
Taking the deepest breath he can muster
His chest glows red, without a green luster
And blasts out a shout, into the Cot's cluster
"DiD aNyOnE nOtIcE a MiSsInG Smith?
Up On ThE SeAt? NeAr ThE ZeNith?
WeLl I'm DoWn bY tHe Cot, Stuck AlL oN mY oWn!
PlEaSe, cOuLd SoMeOne wIth eYes Guide tHe UnKnOwn?"
.....................
Bellows bend and blow away ash
Our Smith stands alone, among the trash.
Lending eyesight past the retinal lens.
Seeking the sight through
the light of a looking glass.
Our home star shines through the parted clouds lay above.
Dauntless gamut, the drum is destructive by force.
Seeing the colors of healing in perfect tune.
Harbinger night terrified in horrifying hums.
Sat the same way across, open mouth absorbing what she can't.
Long time coming to triumphant horned brass.
Blearing these praises cross simple landscape paintings.
The trill of the ringing without the slightest bit of hearing.
Loathing no other in this decorative world.
Hurling the self down through a whirlwind turmoil.
Cascading down the eye of Neptune.
A resemblance jauntily bouncing, striking true ranging trident as if javelin.
War of subtleties
Terse battles
Sanctioned victories
Temporal losses
Shooting blanks
Dull blade
Cassanova's gaze
Mata Hari senses
Jagger's "Moment has passed"
Frost "Two roads diverged..."
Thunderous crash
Newborn's coos
White lies
Dark truths
A trident
A halo
Demons
Angels
Trump's hair
Hitler's mustache
Casting spells
Reading scriptures
The White House
The House of Horrors
Halls of Congress
Hall of Mirrors
The Wheels of Justice
The Ferris Wheel
Titanic's First Class
Titanic's steerage
T-Bone Steak
Garden Salad
Delicious apples
Sour lemons
Excercise
Lethargy
Tolstoy's War And Peace
A note from your teacher
... a pound's worth and not a penny more!
2019 September 12
***Song suggested by my 22-year-old granddaughter when asked for a song best represents this muse.
A stone falls into the Ocean,
Causing ripples as I hear,
The voices within my heart warning me.
Blind to the ripples as they become waves,
Rocking the boat as the storm approaches.
Night becomes dark.
In the middle of a nightmare the rains and,
Lightning surround my tiny boat,
In a big ocean of danger.
Massive waves rocking the boat side to side.
Looking, searching hoping for the light.
Then I see in the distance,
The tower of light,
On the coast alerting us of the cliffs.
The light guides us to safe passage,
Bringing us home.
I look out to sea and,
I see Poseidon who raises his trident.
Then I realize he has always,
Been there protecting us.
Book I: The Summons of the Muse
O Muse, descend from lofty starry sphere,
And lend thine aid to sing what men hold dear:
Not wars of kings, nor blood on Pharsal’s plain,
But forks and spoons that strove for sovereign reign.
When knives did rule the board with iron hand,
And lentils leapt like rebels through the land,
There came a wight from future’s secret shore,
Who brought strange engines ne’er beheld before.
“Behold,” quoth he, “these prongs of tempered might,
Shall pierce thy meats and set thy board aright!
No more shall broth upon thy toga stray,
Nor figs escape like traitors in dismay.”
The Senate stared: “What witchcraft dost thou bring?
A trident small? Is that Neptune’s petty thing?”
Book II: The War of Utensilia
Then spoons advanced with bowls of rounded grace,
And forks with prongs did storm the festive place.
The knives, aghast, their empire rent in twain,
Cried, “Shall these toys our sovereignty disdain?”
As Mars himself, with crimson helm and shield,
Beheld the fray upon the banquet field,
He cried to Jove: “What madness dost thou see?
Shall mortals war for broth and fricassee?”
Then Jove, with laughter shaking heaven’s dome,
Declared: “Let forks and spoons have place in Rome!
For knives alone breed chaos, stains, and strife—
Give order now to Caesar’s dinner life!”
So thunder rolled, and lightning flashed on high,
While spoons sang hymns and forks let prongs fly.
The knives fell back, their edges dulled with shame,
And cursed the hour that forks to Rome first came.
Book III: The Feast and the Folly
The traveler laughed: “My work is near complete—
Rome shall not fall to stew upon the seat!”
He dreamt of fame, of statues carved in gold,
Of Cicero declaiming, grave and bold:
“Behold the man who civil order wrought,
And tamed the chaos of the Roman pot!”
Yet Fate, that jester, played a cruel device:
He spilled his wine and paid the final price.
The toga stained, the Senate roared with mirth,
And Nero sang: “A fork hath slain his worth!”
So sing we now of him whose fork did reign,
While Nero sung an ode to spoons in vain.