Long Unlikely Poems
Long Unlikely Poems. Below are the most popular long Unlikely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unlikely poems by poem length and keyword.
IDEAS
an
applied sense
of the literate
conceptions
undevalued
gratituous
but
honourable
in
curious phenomena
change places
a mark
of verse
fluctuating rhythm.
gyrating
emotions
so irregular
of
no consequence
incoherently
emerge
so freelyASSUMPTIONS
subtle &
many
illustrative
observations
in
layered
settings
on many
levels
amplified
foibles
in
an absurdity
of
unlikely flights
of
imaginative
action
so plausible
&
authorial
in
tone
from
ingenious
angles
recognised
or imagined
setting
to
&
create
restoration
to
illustrate
Two black eyes
On a sweet white face
Floppy ears that lie
Those ears actually taste
Algae is the most favourite place
With no arms
No tricks up their sleeves
Should they be on a farm?
Each looks like a sheep
If only they made a bit of cheese
To light their fire
They suck chloroplasts
Leaf sheep never tire
Photosynthesis gives them gas
Even without the sun’s sunny blast
Amazing you say
We must agree
And all shout hurray!
Photosynthesis under the sea?
An amazing feat for a slug so wee
Darkish water, stormy seas
Not a problem to be seen
The leaf sheep glow and glean
Pokey horns but they’re not mean
Wearing chlorophyll dresses in neon green
Not green with envy or jealousy
Not these hermaphrodites
Always with themselves lovey
Never a fight
Peace and love are always in sight
You will want to pet them
This most unlikely lot
But please don’t squeeze them
They will pop
They’re the size of a dot
Last night two events occurred together that are unlikely to repeat…
It wasn’t even Halloween…so for them to happen in one night was certainly a treat!
First to an Edgar Allan Poe Speakeasy we decided we would go…
Deborah dressed as the Raven and me as Mr. Poe.
In a dimly lit room we watched and listened as four actors played their parts…
In retellings of the Masque of the Red Death, The Black Cat, The Raven…and…the Tell-Tale Heart.
What made this even more special was with each story
we were served a delectable libation…
The inspiration for each cocktail was Edgar’s macabre imagination.
Then later that evening…it was on a midnight dreary…
Wait! It wasn’t dreary…it was a beautiful night to see
and it wasn’t even midnight…it was actually half past three.
We witnessed a moment that throughout history
has inspired poets to write and lovers to swoon….
A total lunar eclipse…they call it a blood moon.
It’s when the moon moves directly into the shadow of the Earth
and as you watch it happening overhead…
the moon slowly and for a short while…turns the color of blood red.
I imagine if Mr. Poe was alive today and I could visit him a while
when I told him about our evening…even he would have to smile.
And when I asked him if there’d ever be another time like this…
that would capture our imagination…
cause our blood to stir and our hearts and minds to soar…
I’m sure Edgar…being Edgar would simply answer…
Nevermore.
My youth once was a garden of many flowers
that bloomed in each fragrant spring,
and the canaries and butterflies flew over them
with irresistible charm and supreme gentleness;
when winter came with a bitter chill, frost followed
without showing mercy,and all the flowers withered!
And year after year, I grew fonder and learned more...
to want to flee where there was neither death nor sorrow!
O innocent boy nurtured of motherly affections,
experiencing the ungullible emotions of your age:
seeing reality in all its unglamorous image,
nothing was allowed, everything was forbidden,
and what couldn't be taken away was that priced freedom;
a freedom that helped you to become a young man...
when most companions didn't keep their mind shut to limitations,
living in the moment and ignoring me as their friend!
My youth was once a garden of many flowers,
roses that I had given in exchange for the tenderest kisses,
carnations that I brought to forgotten, unnamed graves,
gardenias that I placed on the cathedral's altar in the presence of angels,
daises that I picked on the way home for mother who hated lies,
but loved her boy with curly hair and dimple cheeks...
a school-boy, who never ran out of pencils and sheets!
O middle-age man, why do you look back to reminisce
how your sun never set on an horizon without clouds?
Your purpose was to show the true face of kindness,
and your determination and ambition didn't go unnoticed by others;
you'll be rewarded by life with the rare gift of longevity,
to recompense you with another garden of many flowers...
those flowers that don't wilt, but ever know the joys of eternity:
unlikely the days when your youth didn't measure the time given by destiny!
This is my theme also-Zen Garden by A Rambling Poet
Hey kid, it's been a while since you and I have talked in silence. In fact, it's been over a hundred years now. Just a quick little scribble to remind you of the ways you and I have lived in the past. remember those days when we were young and we lived carefree and wild. Those days of young when we played in the woods, went hiking, fishing and camping. Remember those days of young men when we would hit up the night clubs and party our brains out all night long, dancing and trying to pick up any young lady that was intoxicated enough to fall victim to us trying to fancy them and luring them into our flats and onto our cots, after the clubs closed. (Ah...those were the days). Remember the wives we've had and the children we've raised... I wonder how our great-great grandkids are? I wonder if we even have any? Who are they, what do they do...what are they like? Do you think they even know who we were, what we were, or how things used to be when we were alive? Are there still trees, plants and water still left on earth? Is earth still in existence? Have people finally come together (highly unlikely- I presume). Is white still white and black still black? Are men still men and women still women? The list can go on, and on, and on. So many questions, so many thoughts, so many...so many. Well kid, before I say so long and say "see ya soon- hopefully" And, before I put this letter in a balloon and send it up to the stars in hopes that it reaches you in the heavens one day. I just want to say "thanks" Thanks for being you, thanks for the life you lived and the paths you've chosen. Lastly, I am sending two balloons with this identical letter up so if and when you do capture these floating balloons a hundred years from now, remember to pop one when you catch them... pop it so that this letter can fall to earth so to remind people of how things used to be, how I was when I was alive, how lovely life used to be (for me). The other balloon and letter is yours to keep and treasure. See ya soon kiddo... Love you always, Self
Letter To My Future Self Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
9/21/2021
Even though we know death is a natural part of life…when someone we love is gone
we ask ourselves…what are we going to do now…how do we go on?
The answer is different for everyone…we all handle grief differently….
but I find some solace in the philosophy of my two old friends…Phil and Lee.
When I was teaching I thought…this crazy idea had appeal…
What if I my Autistic students and I served Meals on Wheels?
Everyone was skeptical…my school board, the Meals on Wheels people…everyone but me….
and when I finally got their approval…Meals on Wheels matched us up with Phil and Lee.
Phil and Lee were in their 80’s when I met them…and they agreed to share their route with us…They would drive the route in their car and we would follow in our bus.
We delivered Meals with them for years and by the time my teaching tenure came to an end…
thanks to this unlikely pairing…Phil and Lee and I became good friends.
When cancer took Phil’s leg…I was there to give Lee my support and try to help her understand
When cancer took Phil’s life…I was there to hold Lee’s hand.
I remember last time I saw Lee…what she said to me…that bright sunshiny day in May
It was a few months after Phil and passed…and she was about to move away.
She smiled saying, “It took me a while to laugh after Phil was gone
even after the worst of my grief had faded
I thought I was being disrespectful…I thought he’d feel jaded.”
“But when something triggered a memory of him and I began to laugh one day….
I thought how he would be so sad if he thought his death took my laugh away.”
“And that one laugh made me realize how with the memory of him I am blessed…
and finding joy and laughter without him…doesn’t mean I love or miss him less.”
“So now every time I feel like it…I let my laughter through….
and I’m confident, wherever he is, Phil is laughing too.”
Lee died a few years later…and it still warms my heart
knowing they are together…and will never again have to laugh apart.
FEATHERLESS ANGELS
The images were created by evocative art
Angels with feathered wings, all in white
Some with swords at Eden Garden’s gate
But their main duty was to communicate
Some had fallen, at least in God’s sight
But with evil direction, played their part
If one good angel were now to appear
Unlikely to be feathered, or have wings
I am sure that one would be able to tell
A message to share and all fears to quell
Maybe it is hope that the future brings
But an angelic smile, when the end is near
In an angry world, some people are good
By others, deemed to be angels in disguise
No feathers nor wings, at least to be seen
But such a presence as there’s ever been
And from their lips, a blessing multiplies
Spreading more love, if they just could
It tells a lot about Prez Trump,
Long shall US carry this lump
And long shall show the scar--
Long as lives Polar Star,
A burden on its back as hump.
Yet, it also tells us a lot:
Its pillars stand on righteous spot,
That, its top court can be
Firm as to disagree
With who so has White House well fought.
_______________________
Happenings |19.01.2025| USA, political
Poet’s Note: Notwithstanding what this ditty says, one might believe, Trump will have to endure embarrassment of being a felon as president. Unlikely alas. He will not only own it, but brag about it. Most likely, both him and the courts will be tested in future.
I had a dream
We were so much happier than we ever were
You were holding my hand just the same
And we were dancing which we never did
You were looking at me so ever intently like you always did
And I was feeling so secure in your arms like I never did
The comfort
There wasn't any sorrow between you and I
No shadows loomed
No darkness crept
Everything felt so right as it always did between you and I
And you were better than you ever were
And I could see a path for us
We paraded the streets you and I
Hand in hand we did
And it made sense
Seemed like I had forgiven you for all the pain
But I questioned
How unlikely it was for me to walk the same road as you
I am sure I don't love you anymore
You don't mean as much as you did
I don't feel as lost without you now
Sure you had filled my universe before
Gave my life meaning and purpose
But I figured I could live without you
And I suppose that was the life lesson
Six months after my Mother decided to move
out of the house, which only she and I shared.
Had not surprisingly been swept on a messy path
during preceding time.
In nondescript depot, Northern suburbs of Adelaide
We met while waiting on stationary city bound bus
I was 16, you 14, shared only gender and addiction
Your two finger signal to me, initial encouragement
Together we stepped out, sat down with ease
A pocket produced the cigarette you requested
Yet to realise your soon apparent clairvoyance
As my Angel, our meeting was ardour suspended
With nonchalance of street-wise, I shrugged a reply
"Just heading to the City, - see what's going on"
You ascertained vague expression between lines
Guaged I had nowhere prescribed to belong
Insistence that I come to your house unwarranted
I swallowed order with gratitude, steaming broth's bowl
Shock shot lame my stiff stance, flowing warmth translated
Riding the bus beside a friend, unlikely dream unfolded
A typical teenager, you lived with your family, to become
My family for the next four months, a premature adult's reprieve
Your three sisters, one brother equalled four full bedrooms
Her pure generosity allowed your Mum to willingly shelter me
Had my cashless, city bound track occurred, I shudder
to guess at possible horror hapless trajectory offered
Shahanna, the miracle of our co inciding invited my rescue
A chance for childhood dependance given to the discarded
Indebted to Shahanna's proximity, God's will