Long Visor Poems
Long Visor Poems. Below are the most popular long Visor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Visor poems by poem length and keyword.
The Battle field is ready for a messy day
Throats will be cut and blood will spray
Great feats will be achieved and a wonderful display
Of armies in mortal struggle, the fray
Giants, Demons, Angles and the like ready their blades
The battle drum beats then they rush the glade.
A master white stair case to heaven is the Demons goal
The General shuts his visor and leads his hoard through
Magic, Death, Music, Strength, and Weakness all happen
Only one makes it through the havoc….
His last sprint up the stair case a final task
At the top he unveils his metal mask
A young mans face with demon horns peers at the gates
In front of him guardians decide his fate
One question is all he has for them and the lord
Can I see my beloved from childhood from before?
The Demon kneels to show no threat before his grace
Then he sees her solemn sad little face
He didn’t move his great muscles as she approached him
Her actions were very simple…she bent over and kissed him
He then turned and walked down to the stair case
Threw his sword and spear then leapt from its base
He very well could have opened his great wings
He completed the only wish he had…. See the King!
Genevieve his angel
As I get closer I see she is a woman
About nine foot tall
Her waist is probably less than eleven inches in diameter
Her legs are the width of a ruler
Self-confidence oozes out of this tiny being
She is sitting on top of her van camper
Drinking a six pack of root beers
There is not a pinch of fat on her body
She wears a gray kamikaze helmet with a purple visor
She is nonchalantly waving the flag of the Brits
Her tennis shoes cover more area than the bikini she wears
Her left shoulder is heavily tattooed
We have never met such a beast.
We saunter up to her and say “hi”.
She responds, and happily. Fearless and free.
I am in awe!
[Youtube clip attached as the source of my ‘copper through your
letter box line... and because I just love the song!]
Don’t slap a copper with a kipper
Don’t catch your todger in your zipper
Don’t put the peas on if you cannot watch the pot
And if your wife should ask don’t say the weather girl is hot
And don’t play Twister with a hippo
Or light a firecracker with a zippo
Don’t date a sure bet if you’ve got holes in your socks
Don’t try to post a copper through your letter box
For that will be a squeeze but you won’t get past his boots
Don’t pull you’re little sister’s hair out by the roots
Don’t hold a bank up with a plastic BB gun
Don’t ski down K2 just because it sounds like fun
Don’t drive a Datsun in Stetson
And don’t wipe your visor with a wet one
And don’t quarrel with your wife, or venom she will hurl
She’ll say why don’t you run off with your little weather girl
And don’t dress like Lennon at a Rolling Stones revival
If you have inside your head the notion of survival
CONFOUNDED ( COLLABORATION )
by~ S.Jagathsimhan Nair
When tension grips and the head reels
In its ever accelerated twirl
When two rays dangle from two flayed poles,
And the dumb loss of a moment’s truth
Looks so conspicuous and an eminently
Forgettable lapse of an inoffensive world
When the gentle genre to which the slamming
Of an ever open door in the face of
The rare perspicacity and purpose shown
By a soul, a land and a generation belongs
Looks so commonplace; when the benign
Visitor’s countenance does indeed despair
And crave a black visor above the originality
Of its expansiveness and the staggering degradation
Of its vitality; I have this great ache’s abundance
Stirring in my cupped palms, held out in supplication,
Till it rests, for an ever lasting understanding
Ever in the vision, ever into its aftermath.
by~ p.d.
The "aftermath" of any loss seems to consist in any form.
An aster plea subsiding every look.
Behind glory behind redemption~
Giving rest to the velocity speeding force
Creations of fantasy and religion and imagination
I paint the skies with my fingertips, to feel the mass
The world trembles at the knowledge of relativity.
"I sit in displeasure, injecting every generation into my veins!"
New born babies, born into this puzzled abyss.
Bewildered minds accepting stupendous addictions.
A poison to taste every sunrise,
Forbidden tongues baffle the night
Mental representation, stirring up conflict
Foiled toes to hold and worship.
Steady vision behind these eyes so confounded.
a collaboration with* S,Jagathsimhan Nair
my collaboration contest
And you are?
Human
And this is?
Earth
They stand and look with no eyes
In confusion they crouch to touch
What happened?
Invasion
Who?
We didn't know
They assess the barren landscape
There seems to be no proof of life and nowhere to go
Why only you?
I survived
How?
I don't really know
They scan me with strange devices
And see I'm human right enough?
We take you
Where?
A place to live
Why?
One of them lifts his visor up so he can look me in the eye
Then says:
Because the earth died so many million years ago
And in that time since the human race became extinct we've studied your planet.........
And there has been no sign of life
Lord, lead me not into temptation
Away you, I'm not sure, teach me not
This exercise in longing, I will forget
Your verse of homelessness, as your son
Illuminate the distance between me, and you
Forgive me, your garden trespassed, don't
Exile me out into forlorn space again
Heaven and satellites are your art
Here on my moon far from the sun, you
Lead me to that lonesome capsule, back
Where a stained spacesuit hides me, listen
To the hissing suit sweet-talking me, I go
Wearing that damned suit, pull down the visor
To cover my face from your rays, head
To my own sea of tranquility alone
On the dark side of the moon, far
From your reach, I’ll own my kingdom
From your moondust, build a sand castle of sin
On the rim of an unholy crater, I’ll declare
Independence from your colonial rule
I’ll put on this old suit of debauchery again
Until you strip your prodigal child, attempting
A break from orbit, telling me I have all I need
For a moonshot closing the distance
Deliver me from a solitary capsule, lifeless
On the cold lunar surface, temptation lives
Stay my evil hand that turns the airlock
Watch me float out the hatch from afar, hiss
Your gravity too heavy to bear, God, watch
Me bounce to the dark side of the moon
Though here comes the sun again, coax
Me a sinner unbaptized by midnight
Each revolution, you test my faith
Turn not distance to despair, rather
Instill the space between, patience
Turn not my freedom to anarchy, but
Faith in tethered orbits, closer
Turn not my soul into a cancer, hungry
Temptations eating a moon misled
Thy will be undone away from you
Today. Repost
-------------------------------
Meeting Andy Gibb: Today is His Birthday
Some moments in life we just
cannot totally recall,
Like rapid moving waters one sees
in a waterfall.
But meeting Andy, I will
cherish and remember.
His eyes, his smile, far more
than warm and tender.
I can't think of another soul,
so glowing, bright and beautiful.
Oh, how I want so to make a
picture,
Of this singer gone much too
soon!
His demeanor, so gloriously
blissful.
I was blessed enough to touch
his hand, and that
smile indeed, so loving.
I had no intention of giving
him a gift.
But I felt in that time-moment,
I was en route to heaven on
a starry chariot!
With no reason or rhyme,
my visor with sparkling,
Multi colored lights~ I
suddenly gave to Andy!
He was as pleased as punch.
Just before getting into his limo
for lunch,
He turned, smiled and spoke:
"Thank you Mate!.
On the Southern California beaches,
this sure will come in handy".
Today is Andy Gibb's birthday,
Bet you anything he's singing
away with a sparkling visor, on God's
holy moon.
By angels, serving him a large,
sumptuous buffet.
With his brothers, very close beside him.
Humming a tune.
In memory of Andy Gibb
With love from~
Panagiota
Reposted 3/20/2019
mass confusion under an abandoned black mailbox
just mentioned as lackadaisical as day,
someone very close to me just told me about diabetes medication
i sit on this empty porch of dried tears with a quickly written letter in my hand
i am thinking about possible amputations and high blood pressure
so secretive, and i do not know where to go
so vague, and i do not know what number to call
so mysterious, and i do not know what hospital in which to go to
the mailbox is now black corn flakes without even intending to be
not knowing the definition of 'where', 'to', 'go', or 'next', i put said quickly written letter in the abandoned, flaky black mailbox
i return back to my weather worn black car and stare into the space of myself in the mirror of the driver side sun visor
splashing. sunshine.
etched glasses with paint in mind -
water goo.
rose reds and blueberry blues.
as if handling a ginormous flatscreen,
the canvas placed.
splash...splash...splash
like a conductor with an orchestral skill.
the maestro puts on his visor and busies himself,
squeezes the trigger, the water bottle
set to diffuse. his plants flourish in their bath.
he sees them grow before his playful eyes,
stamens wear black mascara.
they soak up the sunshine
like bathing beauties.
twenty hues in ketchup-sized bottles,
arranged like dutch tulips on the dais,
hold still as the gardener plucks
a plastic stem with his hand.
appearing as a mad horticulturist —
this artist’s in demand.
3/23/2020
A milling crowd (aren't they all),
I call my name
then try my real name
then a made-up name.
The crowd separates reluctantly,
A man with an ever changing face steps forward.
I intently recognize myself,
a self of many ages, some even before birth.
I am emotional, this is a cathartic moment
my eyes are pinballs being flipped
in a lit-up cosmic game.
The person is my personal
imago/, amigo, avatar,
my part-time impersonator.
This is no time for self analysis,
I take him by the hand
lead him into my mind, claim him,
show him as I am now
in the eye of a cracked mirror.
His face has stopped fluttering through time,
his eyes are now moth orbs
as golden as an astronauts visor.
I reflect upon them like the sun.
He tells me that all of his personas,
all of his faceted me-ness
revolves around an inner star,
then walks absent mindlessly
back into the crowd.
I turn to look at the rest of the world,
it is a radiant carousel painted upon
an endlessly nocturnal canvas.
The canvas and the painting
were created by an unknown artist,
one still waiting to be discovered.