Long Troposphere Poems
Long Troposphere Poems. Below are the most popular long Troposphere by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Troposphere poems by poem length and keyword.
Foreboding of a tempestuous storm,
it blackens as it draws near,
a cumulonimbus in towering form,
extending to the troposphere,
So cast off mooring and slacken the line,
break free while there's still time,
'cause I'll pull you under if you don't let go,
Save yourself and abandon ship,
I'll take on water and sink too quick,
in gales of winds the swells arise,
these waves will break and so will I,
Roars of thunder and screeching wind,
sheets of lightning and pelting rains,
walls of waves will batter within,
until our stability wanes,
So cast off mooring and slacken the line,
untether your heart from mine,
'cause I'll drown us both if you don't let go,
Save yourself and abandon ship,
I'm taking on water and sinking quick,
in gales of winds the swells arise,
these waves are breaking and so am I
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
through cerulean streams
and creamsicle colored beams—
are wings reflective
of the turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East—
becoming lost
in its milky breadth
its lilting light
its dimming depths
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers—crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
Canadian bluster-gusts
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
offshore
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl
whirling
in slate pearlescent space
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels…
mobs of darkening fog
growing fatter
on summer’s fainty surrender—
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm…
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change—
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with an emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter
WEATHER THE STORMS SOAR
I
Shadow dances impart across lite path
Souls entrenched in technicolor harvest
Comparable passage denied terrain grasp
Rainbow corral blurb optic delusions trust
Blown wind scars the clouds rains falls down solace
Weather the storms soar the heaven’s cry
Grasping at the middle climax remains
Compels vibrate illusive prey contains
Weathering the tornadic torrents space.
II
The wind invisible clams and flies goes
Soul’s fiction blinded spirits solar glows
Darkness flees from higher, highest bright light
Ground labor encumbering dusty bare
Light chasing the darkness blight night
Troposphere next to stratosphere so fair
Spoken forth breath and life birth
Forth going as well as coming go
Universal darkness encased in light earth
1/4/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
"The Take Off"
That feeling
when the plane
speeds down the runway
and lifts up
you know …
how it feels;
left the jungle
with the forest
to work it all out
amongst themselves
somewhere in
the lower atmosphere
wings spread
ruffling their feathers
for take off
undressing the addressing
garments and heavy baggage
no longer required
in the thermosphere
that place way above
the camouflaged
claustrophobic
muggy troposphere
you know ...
sans cloak,
naked masks are us;
is it hot in here, or what?
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
vivacious roses pose
in air
oxygen free from the stem
arising like balloons
resurrection of rosies
blushing brides at peak
before their spoiling
before their mistreat
their passionate gowns sweet
wormy stems
await greening apples
Eden’s eschew
the ladies wave bye-bye
preferring the troposphere
fear of flying
ain’t there
angels, palms up,
invite their climb
up golden stairs
heaven is a lighthouse
waves crash on dry and crusty land
petals fall like rain
dowry to the grooms
wives look nothing like the brides
kites tied to home soil
desperate for heaven
a few grooms
smooth
the bed
water the roots
the rose thrives
2/24/2021
*Salvidor Dali’s Bleeding Roses
I am counting down the days when the clouds will break away and the troposphere in the sky will peel away the substance from the earth and the stratosphere in the atmosphere will cool down the temperature in the air.
And the wind will take its ambition to the moon and blow towards the East and the corroded air will cease.
The wind is blowing in the north and something magnificent is about to start, some new comers are in the town they are going up north to settle down before their weary body grows old.
.
They have boxes and pans with them and ropes to tie down the lion in the den and they have all the resources that they need for a year and they have nothing to fear. Up north is very cold but their spirit is very bold and when the cold sinks into their skins they all gather around the piano and start to sing.
Elevate yourself on top of the stone and examine the air pressure coming out of the sea, it carries the weight of a thousand soul whose bodies were left to rot on th ocean floor.
Divers could not find them and explorers could not rescue them, their spirits are buried in the sea and each time a seagull crawls upon the shore, it is one of those lost soul at sea come to pay tribute to the world; their home is at sea.
Just look around and tell me what you see, the clouds are coming after thee, the rain is pelting in the west and the birds are traveling south west the airline are flying at a high altitude and the eagle is racing towards that sun. Look at the latent heat up there and the thermal radiation over there.
The gas layers of the troposphere are expanding and the dense cloud are moving on. Just take a look at the puzzle once more before you walk through the door, try to fit the missing pieces when you find them raise your hands towards the heavens and say ,
”we have found the missing ones.”
MY NEIGHBOR KOFI
LOCATION: Mazamaza, Lagos, Nigeria:
My neighbor kofi,
The computer scientist
At 34,
He crisscrossed, jetcrosed, redcrossed,
And hobnobbed around the globe:
Kathmandu, Acapulco and the Galapagos
He dined and wined
Like there was no tomorrow
He dined and wined
With Kings and queens;
Cuban cigars, dom perignon 59, Cabernet Sauvignon;
Lamborghini Gallardo, Rolls Royce and Ferrari
He saw the world
Through,
Rose colored spectacles
He jetted North, then South
He jetted in Sommer, then in winter
Then,
He jetlagged....
His battery drained
And,
His computer crashed
Then,
The speck fell
From his eyes
He,
Drank garri without sugar
Ate wild mushrooms
And drank bitter lemon.......
He googled his front
And ogled his back
In his minds eyes
He saw a knotted gray tie
And a pregnant woman
He heard a cock crow
But saw a thick blanket
Of darkness cascade toward, over him
He could not discern
Beyond his nose......
He saw the clouds gathering
But no rain
He saw the palm trees sway
Almost to a breaking point
Then,
He saw the harmathan
Gathering momentum
At the lower troposphere.....
He felt the cold
North East trade wind
Hit his face.......
He mounted his green horse
Named: Don Longhorn
Adjusted his helmet
Then,
Saw a thick haze
Of dust behind him......
It tumbled, rumbled, crumbled and cracked,
It thundered, hissed and clappered
Lightening flashed around him
But,
Don Longhorn and Kofi
Forged ahead...
Into the night....
Into a blanket of darkness......
In moments of twilight civility
an exchange of gifts -
darkness for light..
RISING
from beyond the softening silhouette edge
you brighten like a blushing damsel
hazy haloed
unabashed in the pleasure of ripening
daydreamer
...a vivid blur of lemon drop...
veiled by a wispy fanfare of mares’ tails
windswept forth in pinkened pageantry
heralding the maturing marmalade horizon -
arousing a drowsing periwinkle sky
your prosperous glow casts a molten net of gold
slanting low across the ebb and flow
igniting the imagination
- agleam with peachy dreams -
of just-waking waters
while catching fire-tipped riffles;
rubies gathered ride the tide to the coastline
glamorizing the washed still-sleepy seaward sand
saturated in the rose-colored nectar
of your generous nature ~
Susan Ashley
October 13, 2018
*Mare’s tail: a long narrow cirrus cloud whose flowing appearance somewhat resembles a horse’s tail, often indicating high winds in the upper troposphere.*
LAST WORDS
surly pain must ink the charred troposphere,
mascara running down poet’s kaleidoscopic cheek.
the breastplate clan have left the spoils weak.
the rustical clang of the rusty second hand’s fear,
felt with such clarity. the morbidity of the times,
like bleakest clouds that form on the insides,
the likes of which you’d not believe til now resides
in your tortured mind and you leak it in rhymes.
the poem might be good, really good, of Poe
himself, but these are the last words typed out.
you have angels in your sight, clearly hear the shout.
nevermore court nebulous feelings in flames that grow.
3/7/2020