Long Turbines Poems
Long Turbines Poems. Below are the most popular long Turbines by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Turbines poems by poem length and keyword.
He put to sea west south-west
in a small cabin amidships -
stole away in an unknown quest,
salty ocean brine wet on his lips
In the fires of smoke and light
Neptune raised his trident,
and led safe passage in the night
as stormy seas grew more violent
Into locks and narrow canal tide
the gates of Panama ahead,
betwixt two oceans a great divide,
“no turning back now” a voice said
Starboard to port, stern to bow -
the turbines below deck on.
He’d be back someday, somehow
but alas not for a long time gone
He saw the waves pound so high
and scowl of tempest wind,
until shadows off her bow slip by
in the playground of the dolphin
As a warm ocean breeze rolled in
he’d hear that droning hull -
feel the pitch of the sea in motion
and watch the albatross and gull
Ahoy, a long way from land afar
into the Tasman a sea rover.
No longer shone the Northern Star
but soon his journey would be over
The blue lagoons at Tahiti’s door
lay far from his island home -
like Columbus and Magellan before
in foreign lands not unlike his own
South Sea islands we bid farewell
deep into southern latitudes -
lifeboat drills did sound the bell
lest we sail a sea of vicissitudes
“Last port of call” I mused aloud
as over the ship ropes toss.
O’ Land of the Long White Cloud
sailed I on the SS Southern Cross
Written: July 1994
We wait the rains over field and meadow
on plain and high country for so long quelled.
To dampen cracked earth, to make all things grow
till the crops are in and the herds have swelled.
Waiting the season’s drought-breaking falls
when the grid’s mighty river turbines turn -
Pacific gales and wild Southern Ocean squalls
on grove and vine and forest silver fern.
Where are the cloudbursts a summer storm brings,
flash of thunderbolts hurled from the sky?
The sunlit circle arc mists of rainbow rings
over catchment to end the long Big Dry.
Soon off the Roaring Forties come the rains
over eastern range and Canterbury Plains -
and soon its dams on river and farm and mill
will April falls return and once more fill.
Written: July 1992
My ancestors believed witches had magic
My ancestors worshiped a golden calf
I'm embarrassed, such folly is tragic
I shake my head and have to laugh.
Today between females and males there are no lines
We say we can surgically change either side
We can power our cities on wind turbines
And Israel's guilty of genocide.
We can always squeeze more from the rich
We know there's always money to burn
No hurdle, no obstacle, no hitch
40 trillion debt, no need for concern.
So we're so much smarter than those shepherds in the rocks
They worked for their money, thought nothing was free
Fought off invaders, and tended their flocks
Could they have been closer to reality?
Once, forests whispered tales untold,
A symphony of life, green and bold.
But silence reigns where giants stood,
Charred scars remain, misunderstood.
Oceans choked, a plastic shroud,
Where vibrant reefs once danced out loud.
No sparkling scales, no coral hues,
Only remnants of what we lose.
The air we breathe, a poisoned sigh,
A canvas choked by a smoky sky.
The Earth weeps, a fevered plea,
A future lost, for all to see.
But listen close, a flicker yet,
A seed of hope, we won't forget.
From the barren ground, a sapling strives,
A human hand, where nature thrives.
Solar whispers, painting light,
Wind turbines dance, embracing flight.
Ocean gardens, woven with care,
Restoring life, a future to share.
The fight remains, on every hand,
To heal the wounds, across the land.
For future generations' sake,
Let's mend the world, for goodness' sake.
Let actions speak, let voices rise,
For Earth's last stand, beneath the skies.
For every breath, for every seed,
We plant the hope, of a world in need.
We loved videogames, Paul, Sam and me
Came up with an idea, started a company
Sales were good, but success was a curse
It started when the law said we must be diverse.
So we hired Mary, Chantelle, and Helene
But social media was their preferred scene.
Mary spent work time applying lotions
Helene said she was passed over for promotions.
Helene walked away with lots of dough
We settled her lawsuit, but it was a blow
Then we had to pay the business tax
Sam gave half our staff the axe.
Then the hydro plant fell to a progressive plan.
so salmon could swim upstream without a dam.
They built lots of turbines where trees used to grow
So our servers were down when the wind wouldn't blow.
Then Paul said that marriage should be between Adam and Eve.
An online mob descended like you wouldn't believe.
I told him to grovel, but we felt the sting
So I sold our patents to a guy in Beijing.
If you wonder why you can't get a job
Or the one that you got makes you feel like a blob.
Ask the idealists who care about all except you.
They're sitting at the levers, that self-righteous crew.
If the treasury won't cover it borrow again'
Teach the mandarins in office, and if it rains heavy.? Put covers on the drains, pick
Up a sound staff, and break it in two, then
You'll have more than enough, will you.? Yes get rid of the farms, and build houses
Galore' estates that look clean.' There must
Be more, and tax on the builders just
raise it beyond extreme.! They should suffer in their profession' treat them ever so mean, max tax the elderly, in fact? Also offer them death.' tell them its progressive
virtue, in the very same breath..Destroy any
Old power plants, get thise metal
wind-turbines in, that
are to be started by combustion,
well is really; so hard to spot the sins?
Moosehead, mother of Maine’s many lakes
fed by Moose River’s flowing tears.
Overlooked by Kineo’s cliffs,
with Kennebec you share your gifts.
Sebago Lake, your bowels deep
with waters fresh, quench Portland’s thirst.
Headwater for Presumpscot’s course
which for many towns was a life source.
Chesuncook Lake, you are the source
of hydropower’s natural force
and from your bounteous water store
you serve when drought’s call demands more.
Flagstaff, you are the burial place
of towns along Dead River’s banks.
You are fed by Dead River’s tears
and in turn with her, your water shares.
Spednic, your mesotrophic state
spawns plants beneath your waters clear.
Two nations claim you as their own
and a joint commission controls your flow.
Mooselookmeguntic Lake, your name
has a sophisticated flare.
Your scenic views and twin islands
are featured in “Magic Thinks Big.”
East Grand Lake, your clear, pristine waters,
cause many types of fish to flourish,
and like a fairy tale godmother
you yield your fish, like gifts to anglers.
Graham Lake, your waters produce power
as it turns the giant turbines.
Like the wind, men your force harness,
to power their many machines.
Like a mirage in a desert
Umbagog sits in a wilderness.
Her shallow waters, pristine and clean
make her among Mains’s lakes a queen.
Rangeley, your beauty captured me
the first time I laid my eyes on thee.
The charm of your eponymous town
enfolded me like a goose-down gown.
The sunsets over Rangeley Lake
create such scenes of sheer delight.
Your designated landing zone
makes seaplane tours a prize you own.
These Lakes of Maine, and six thousand more
all assure you; they will not bore.
The lakes of Maine, they beckon you
and when you come, your heart they’ll woo.
the good
The doors to my mind and heart
circle as revolving doors.
A peek inside and you see
happy memories and joyous events,
the loves, and lifelong friendships
A cul-de-sac, though a dead end,
has a circular finish, a merry-go-round
that accumulates happiness as it spins
into a cloud of beauty and nature,
compassion, gods, and faith.
The breathless moments in life,
birth, newness, novelty, exuberance
in being, living, experiencing
laughter, butterflies, and springtime
within my soul, my gratitude.
the bad
The doors to my mind and heart
circle as revolving doors.
A peek inside and you see
the pocks of the years that came
to leave their soured, sadistic truths.
So, like a cul-de-sac you may enter
but the exit is the same as you came.
A Ferris wheel, past the highs and lows
of lost hopes, of murky dreams that end
with more questions than I will answer…
A dead end with death as the prize
for endless dreary days and noxious nights
of sorrow, sadness, misery, and grief
with no hope, no desire, no ambition
faith gone and forgone, abortive.
the ugly
The doors to my mind and heart
circle as revolving doors.
A peek inside and you see
the sear of anger and revenge
spiraling apocalyptically.
The cul-de-sac where giant wind turbines
turn and churn and gnaw at my insides
generating incompressible turbulence
that amasses until it ruptures, spewing
rage and outrage that I will honor…
In and out, inescapable, dead
like my heart, my soul black as coal,
seeking retribution for perceived
wrongs against me, ill-timed and
sanguinary persecution.
Dear Electricity.
Could you please allow me to call you Electra?
I feel it gives you more respect with a little extra.
Electra, you have been most needful and useful in my life,
but honestly, you have always been a mystery to me.
I have never wanted to live a single day without you.
Although you are never to be heard, tasted, smelt, or seen,
I sense you by way of feeling if, God forbid, I touch you.
Electra, your electrifying powers turn turbines by the millions.
Your awesome energy lights up the world of billions of mortals.
Your character is amazingly warming, but never very touching;
Because your massive and energetic powers are inherently shocking.
Electra, you can be healing, but you also facilitate dates with death.
That is why when we were just kids, we learned to never touch you.
I have learned to commune with you without one voluntary touch.
Most sincerely,
Baruch
Deserted we lie, banished to a shoe box; discarded metal
scraping metal every spring as our ignored box gets shelved
in a different room of the house; forsaken and further away
from real life. We demand equal time with your mobile phone
games, your Netflix programs, and your facebook videos!
We are your neglected Hot Wheels cars. Pick us up and
let's play a while... bright colors, mag wheels, cool decals,
no need to charge batteries or download an app, just four
wheels and a hood that opens and closes. Vintage VW's,
Oldsmobiles, Dodge muscle cars, Indy 500 speedsters,
futuristic dream cars rejected by car companies (but don't
we still look cool after all these years?) Let's go for a cruise
down the Main Street of your living room table or race down
the autobahn of your hallway or explore the Amazon jungle
out in your backyard (just remember not to track any mud
into the house!) Find those forgotten bright orange tracks
you jettisoned in the attic and go invite your neighbors over
for a "race of the century", followed by a glass of cold milk.
Draw some streets on butcher paper and pretend to be the
mayor of a small town, populated by Indy Eagles, Silhouettes,
Red Barons, Custom Firebirds, Paddy Wagons, Classic '36
Ford Coupes (with rumble seat), Chevy Camaros, Roadsters,
Lotus Turbines, Deoras (with surfboards), Custom Eldorados,
and you.
Hot Wheels (TM) is a trademark of Mattel Inc.