Long Volcanic Poems
Long Volcanic Poems. Below are the most popular long Volcanic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Volcanic poems by poem length and keyword.
I believe that long ago, the universe’s most artistic landscaper
mixed woodlands with tropics, rock formations with mountains,
volcanic craters with lush valleys, and cascading waterfalls with
pristine still waters before blending all with an ocean and
topping it off with sunshine. Man named this place, Hawaii.
The absolute awe that defines Hawaii, is bound to awaken
any slumbering faith and rejuvenate any emotion grown numb
to the brilliance of life. While visiting the Islands of Hawaii, I
absorbed a joy and wonder from the plants that delightfully
startled my own routine senses. I have been blessed in my life
to personally view beautiful and eye-catching plant life in many
regions of the world. In Hawaii, the plants adorning and tending
the islands are the most dramatic, glorious and enchanting that
my vision has ever drunk. There is an otherness to Hawaiian flora
that suggests plants are empowered with the ability to uplift,
stimulate and captivate even the most withdrawn human vision.
entrancing colors
paint a wonderland terrain ~
landscaped free of charge
bodacious flora
thrives in hawaii's landscape ~
no mute legs walk there
SHY PEOPLE
Shy people hide
their feelings inside
their heads
their houses
their mouths
sometimes a giggle pops out
but then they turn popsicle-red
and disappear once again
Shy people stand against walls
eyes diverted, feet shuffling nervously,
longing for a dance...a romance
but don’t forge a straight path
You look like a train coming straight at them,
and they like a deer in the headlights
Approach the shy one cautiously,
one silent step at a time,
not too close,
then tell a pleasant joke to your friend,
perhaps the shy one will smile
or restrain a laugh with her palm.
You can let her see your sideways glance,
but keep mildly chatting with your friend.
Shy people stay that way for a long long time
until the shackles fall fearlessly at your feet
then no longer shy
they make you run
your heart pounding
at the sound
of their never ending conversation
all the words in their heads
their houses
their mouths
pop out like a volcanic eruption
that can’t be stopped
You grab her hand and kiss her into submission,
but remember, it is only a brief intermission.
12/4/2017
People Poetry Contest
is everything
The petrol prices in Portugal are now so high
the highest European for me to drive from Cascais to Algarve
makes me six hours, (before two) I save on petrol but waste time.
Behind me, angry drivers in BML´s waving their fists who want to overtake
only so they can turn sharp right for a coffee at the nearest café.
Too much coffee makes people nervous.
China has a housing problem, while in Britain, they have a supply problem
Britain has not enough petrol drivers to supply the forecourts
In San Francisco bay, 72 ships are waiting to unload the precious cargo
mainly full of Christmas banality, no capacity they say.
Is the USA becoming a third world country?
The north pole is melting the sea level rises, but never mind that
we want out Christmas and petrol.
In Las Palmas, volcanic eruption lava streams going into the sea
that is for future generations to figure out.
All I want is an electric scooter I bought in China.
When Squirrel And Molten Iron Meet
Iron melts releasing angry ores
Molten *liquifications flow blood red below
Disgruntled veins twist beneath the Earth
Deranged rivers on volcanic burst
Squirrel jumps at this opportunity
Mimics strange metallic sounds
Melting squeaks cannot be heard above the tumult
Wire haired creature sweats, filled with fear
By the banks of hell and heat before retreating
Smart enough to leave such dangerous elements
There are no acorns to be found along the lava flow
Trees burn and so do living things in irons agony alone
Note: (* I invented the word liquification for your reading pleasure and entertainment.)
One Month Into Winter 2019 Elapsed Here...
Within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania,
thus far marginal snowfall
yet...the Furies of old man winter
huffs and puffs...with gall
unable make headway
against invisible firewall
shielding this area
of the keystone state haul
in tandem with the spirit
of Saint Peter, Paul
and Mary (Southeastern -
tri county (also)
encompassing the suburban hall,
sans Spring Mount Mountain King -
an egg gree us fellow - quite tall
simultaneously straddling Bucks,
Delaware, and Montgomery),
and much as I revel,
when blizzard conditions rage, a Saul
ting self importance of humanity,
where meteorological conditions
hurl a wicked frozen curveball
forcing fatuous, egocentric brazen arrogance
into unassuming (ruff) atoll
shape shifting paradigm,
viz dogmatic couture of modesty call
out depravity, immodesty, pomposity,
et cetera, vis a vis,
when "she" declares marshall,
law yes only when might
of Mother Nature tempers
trumpeting one donning
guise of cloudy meatball
unfortunately indiscriminately
striking havoc overall
mindful, honest, decent... folks
swept up in maelstrom, which pitfall
could cause loss of life or limb,
this teetotaler inebriated,
fascinated, and captivated,
and linkedin to thrall
dom wielded by volcanic, tectonic, climatic...
of phenomena take (measure for measure)
an indifference to scuttling
hominids beef four all
lose well that ends well,
asper scrimmage maul
ling the accouterments of civilization
then...deathly still quiet doth befall
after unleashed forces exhaust
and expend blistering might
temporarily silencing madding crowd
to standstill, and eventual faint crawl
courtesy of a wicked atmospheric drawl!
Prehistoric knowledge stirs then erupts
like lava
All that's left is volcanic ash after mountainous
epiphanies
My esoteric philosophies burn from the inside
out
Destructive bouts of genius ensue as New Age
ideas stick like glue
There's nothing new under the sun & there's
no stopping this intellectual drip
Rays of light shine then fall like rain touching
everything in view
Many cups runneth over all eager for you to
take a sip
Enlightening you with every drop your synapses
pop with thunderous claps
Oceans of emotions churn until tsunamis of thoughts
overtake you
A naturally disastrous silence hits like the dawn
of a new day
A calming peace comes over you like sitting under
a tree in the shade
That feeling will never leave you no matter
the season
Everyone awakens at different times for
different reasons
The universe speaks in many ways & at some point
we all hear what it has to say
To disregard the natural order of things would in
& of itself be treason
In my youth
I shot straight up like a hot bullet from the soil
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
A fire lilly otherwise classified by its latin name: Lilium bulbiferum
My volcanic petals spewed tears of my dismay
Vulnerable to the winds of change, that the future brings
I was prone to hiding in the shadows
Limp, and weakened
My leafy hearts were trampled upon by erratic travelers, whose unpredictable destructive paths met mine
Then the winter came………..
It was here in fetal position in hibernation mode I stayed
It is always the hardest to create a positive personal change
I escaped from my quick sand sorrow prison of self pity
Like a mud puddle soaked retriever
Valiantly shaking off the muck of my self doubts
Free
Reborn
Hybrid of hope
Brighter than a glow worm
Specimen unknown
Undefinable soul
a Lily that is whole
Neon rainbow
My leafy hearts open to consuming the light
Blooming petals full of insight
Aromatic perfumes to soothe the soul
I am this, and
The lily that weathers through the storm
THIS .......... IS....................
JUST ANOTHER STORY OF metamorphosis
.............................................
of a regular human mr/ms/mrs anybody
Volcanic Myth
Hard hitting hammer
sparking pyroplastic flows.
Blowing bellows stoke
billowing pillars of fire.
Ash and cinders, remains
of dying white hot coals
pushed violently skyward
cover all in a drab gray.
The earth trembles and shakes
as mighty Vulcan grunts
with each swing of his
muscular arm.
Fiery jets of flame
spew from his pot
as he anneals iron
in the bubbling cauldron.
As he works, torrents
of sweat flow in to the
fire, hissing and steaming
clouds of vapor vented to the sky.
When he tires, or the last
iron has been cast. The fires
are banked and temblors
cease.
Mighty Vulcan rests for
now. Waiting for the next
call from the Gods. Waiting to
vent his wrath once more.
A deluxe abandoned soul well formed
Coalesced inside the pterodactyl flight
With warmth on primal wing still soars
Well above volcanic ash accumulated
Storms felt it first
Before the past could settle in the snow
Could know the cold
Stone age man observes the power
Looking up, learns how to fly
To escalate the day
Inhibited by nothing
In that moment God knew what to do
It is never too late to fill in empty space
In a breath of future wildly disguised
Souls form far reaching in the sky
Get lost sometimes inside creation
Grow heavier than the mind can reason
Something we don't need to understand
Coal hearted caretaker
never could accept or give love
has a collection of wounded women
placed them in his half-dead heart museum.
He painted over one with his oil-colored tongue.
Stuffed her into a silent taxidermy bird.
He turned some into paper mâché mobiles.
Fingered them into a sad sort of yellowing.
They, void of any hope, were left for dead.
Forever spinning in the end of his selfish head.
Others sit hollow-eyed, clay pot women.
Left on a dusty shelf, chipped and rotting.
Mostly from disrespect and neglect.
Another is in the foyer for the unsmiling,
Colossal bronze busts, monuments to this volcanic prick of destruction.
The final conquest was glass blown.
He melted her spirit into a glowing poem.
A masterpiece born from a seed of sadism.
Hung it in a forgotten corner of his mind.
Framed it in his blood and karmic dust...
Someday he'll have to pay back these endless debts.
And become a forgotten etching in a derelict museum.