Long Wasp Poems
Long Wasp Poems. Below are the most popular long Wasp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wasp poems by poem length and keyword.
It is not only the weather that is unreliable these days.
Spring cleaning now happens only in most people's dreams,
Or when something lost leave few alternatives,
To entering the domain of spiders and other creepy crawlies,
And praying there are no wasp nests.
For me it was a chance to declutter and re-arrange ,
While my wife was out of range,
And it seemed the right time to make the change,
While my body is still up to the challenge,
And my mind still within the recommended competency range,
That reduces the need for an ambulance to arrange.
Of course it may not have happened in any season
If my daughter had not given a good reason,
To prepare for her moving back in this winter season.
With our grandson, to give me even more reason.
No longer does the subtle breeze
Bring relief on searing days
Hidden below the willow trees
Wherever love-thick fades
And leaves bleed
Or with the shadows on the moon’s farside
Along the dark lagoons
Of forever abandons collide
And where no one notices extremes
Swarms of wasp stings
Sluggish are the foothills furthermore
No way into the clouds
Forgotten by them
Love’s tragedy victims
Are hers to spare
The bond of love,
Amoris giver, no longer is seen there
Numb are the empty wells
Tears no longer fall
Dry are the fields
Where she lays her lowered head
Nor do the flames of affection feel
Not even the weeds sway across the fleshy
Fruits that fall for her,
She is anonymous
After all
I beat my wings
At the moment of exhale
Unaware the air had grown stale
I was a white washed wasp
With no sting in my tale
Maybe because daddy bent my mind
when he told me I was destined to fail
Teacher, you taught me
I didn’t need to get high to fly
When you exhaled I felt myself sigh
You made me try instead of cry
To change my flight path
I needed a scoop of double-you and why
Then the gravity of his depravity
couldn’t mystify
I became a different guy
When my mind stopped buzzing
I transformed into a colour blind butterfly
with words worthy of a sigh
I stopped seeing people
through his deranged eyes
His heart was willfully unwise
I stopped believing those malignant lies
We come in many colours
“No Justice no peace”
Solutions aren’t just one size
All parts of society
need to rise.
Black, white, yellow and brown
Those who are up and down
Look around your town
Let’s listen to each other’s heart pound
Don’t fear being woke
It’s time to wake up, shake up
make a God fearing joyful sound
Compassion lost
can be found
Nobody should be bent
or hell bound
Look to the heavens for answers
while keeping both feet firmly on the ground.
Who is the ugliest at the ugly bug ball?
Is it the hideous gnat or giraffe so tall?
Could it be that spitting camel with the ugly hump?
Or the orangutan with the butt that makes us jump?
Mayhaps it is the blue-footed boobie, a weird looking fellow
Or that weird looking duckling whose suit is off-color yellow.
Bloody turkey buzzard with mouth full of gore just came in.
He is not only ugly, but his carnivorous ways are an evil twin.
Octopus, penguin, goat, quail, each with an oddity.
Scorpion, wasp, rattlesnake with pattern of a vee….
Who is the ugliest at the ugly bug ball?
Starfish and squirrel get to pick but they went to the mall.
Could it be the mongoose, the peahen or yak?
Let’s choose the winner before they get back.
Sturgeon has a suggestion. It sounds like a wow.
Let’s call it a tie, and give them all a big whack.
Mountains of snow, with colder snow underneath.
We all have phones in our pockets.
I set a timer to the last time we talked.
Left it all in the snow.
A river is where we used to hang out.
Is now just a river with fish, and not us.
The fish wonder where we went.
They head south.
The tire swing was taken over by wasps.
Whispering wasps which are disagreeable.
Stinging, and buzzing.
We had an argument here, before that tree was overwhelmed with those wasps.
Mountains of old texts.
We have newer and newer phones over the years.
Delete them, or don’t.
The mountain will grow.
Colder snow and river canoes.
Friendships which left scattered clues.
An argument which was like a wasp in a tree.
We took different paths, which were almost free…
Until I reached the toll booth.
And he asked for five dollars and the truth.
Give money to make the old road disappear.
Delete that last text with a tear.
She has a face only a mother could love
Or a man looking for home
She is stubborn, strong and smart
Hard working and ever opinionated
But she is honest and true
She is good and better
Than those little pearls who are to dainty
To do common chores or change a diaper
Or have a baby because their skinny
Skinny wasp figure may blossom into real
Real womanhood
She can take care of herself and she could
Could take care of you
But her man has to earn his own keep
Is she common? Is she plain?
Common is earth that the Almighty
First breathe the breath of life into
Plain is honesty as the day is long
Her heart is gold and her love a treasure
Beauty begins within
She has the simple true love of her man
For this the prettiest smile resides
On her beautiful, beautiful face
And I miss you still
This morn at Church
the Holy Spirit was present,
invited itself, was felt
"If you need me, just call me --
and I'll come running"
Is it true or just another metaphor?
These days, it's always the latter.
A wasp or a butterfly. I can feel your presence
but I can't grasp it. A fleeting moment
Ephemeral, can never seem to hold you,
I'm not trying to. But my heart aches, I can
attest to that. And I always wonder, are you
there, just around the corner, are you this or
that or him or her? Were you really even there?
I know you care
I know you love me
So do I.
Yet, I can't & won't hide the truth:
I miss touching you, I want you so bad.
I'm no great poet, that's you. Still, I lay it
all out: When I don't find you here at the end
of the day, I'm sad. I get over it, always ...
And will again. Forever. And I
won't be seeking but I will.
Can't help but wonder if you're
There, feeling what I do.
I know there's gotta be a reason
likely another test. It doesn't
matter. Another day, another lesson.
For how long? I'm done asking. It
could be any day, or not until
the end of days. I'm done seeking,
but my heart always will --
my love will never give up, it can't.
A bond that can't be broken.
Time. Space. Irrelevant.
I know, if I just keep going the distance,
One day, you'll really be there.
THINGS I WANT TO SAY
More than a thousand thoughts in my head
How do I pour it without anyone's help
Given a while day can make bring it to an end
I lay still but with a ravaging heart beats
All lost in thoughts of what I want to do
There are tears I want to shed
There are stories I want to tell
There are truths I his and won't make me rest
Many lies I told but now I need a help
To many needs I once acted deaf
There are things I need to tell
So that I can stop living in hell
My anger made me defiant
My conscience I locked permanently
Many words I spoke arrogantly
My revenge have been brutally
Many decisions I made angrily
Many thing I need to tell
As my reason for not here happily
My heart carries pain of a wasp sting
Stood all night and the eyes won't blink
The tears and agony old memory bring
This is beyond what you can think
Fruitless drag from this string
Believe me it is more than what you think
There are things I want to say
Maybe I can cease to soak where I lay
My voice quakes even when I pray
I'm lost in what to or not say
Not the way I wish to live all days
I simply want a better way
But there are things I need to say
If I must find my way
CONCEPTUAL FM ???
the green
the gray
the blue
the place to remain
rock over the feet
rock over the wasp sting
smooth ivory
poached in the stream
a swirl of emotions
balancing the commotion
a twinkle in the sun
a wrinkle in the continuum
glistening in the tame light
the eye
the piercing storm
boredom running down the current
sweet blackberry currant
placed in a riverbed
placed in a tear shed
jagged edges
drowning precipice
a stem broken and the petal drifts
the land is flat, and it plays in a sharp
the frown is erased in the heat
the pulse of a heartbeat
washed upon the shores
rust against the painted door
broken chords in the folklore
winter will freeze it over
spring insists for it to show
head hung low
played in a low octave
a black crow beckons wanderlust
floating figure in the riverbed
a shadow in a dent
listen to the sounds
water against water
the rush of martyrdom
the center of the iris
pollen floating in a blue sky
lost in a riverbed
lost in a stony concept
feet against the unsteady steps
the tired soul’s abyss
Roses and marigolds whispered her name when she came into the garden.
The lilacs were smitten; giggling like silly school girls.
The bees were the only creatures who continued working.
And Mr. Wasp. He did not have time for shenanigans or love.
Mistress Faerie flitted in and out the shadows of the garden, spreading joy.
Mirth poured forth from the azaleas and the dainty queen anne’s lace.
She’s here! The ladybugs told the grasshoppers in an excited way.
The grasshoppers already knew though; they had sensed her presence first.
Mr. Wasp was feeling growly now. There was work to be done.
He slipped inside a peach rose to hide from these festivities, and the celebrity.
“Hello, Mr. Wasp,” Mistress Faerie said. She was already there, waiting for him.
He did not know she was a wasp faerie! He decided to make time for her.
What does the garden need the most? She asked him. “What can I do?”
He could think of lots of things he would like for her to do, but none of them
had anything to do with a garden. “Just be yourself,” he said. “That is enough.
And it certainly was! They were married on Wednesday, tickling the lilacs.