Long Watering Poems
Long Watering Poems. Below are the most popular long Watering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Watering poems by poem length and keyword.
and for our fifth anniversary, wood;
at that age love’s roots are hopeful, flexible,
damp: feeling fresh earth with fingers
stretching and toes padding. A landscape found.
My memories are rings of bark in rotation,
aging and looping nostalgic sap solidified, held
within amber - a slow golden molasses of
year within decade within time within
circular wooden promises moving, expanding.
For my scabs there are bent twigs,
plucked and picked by a curious child.
My eyes have been bugs, dark and closed below trunk,
shielded and sheltered in mud before opening
with experience: growing tails bushy and teeth
sharp, becoming acorns that gaze and look
upward, that blink and spy, that climb with
squirrels hoarding their plunder near clouds -
and my skin, once covered in leaves
green, dotted in crisp morning dew, now
changes colour to curling oranges of
autumn and stubborn brown creases,
cracked into wrinkled veins of bonfire
clusters dry. A prepared pyre.
Yet my mouth – forever poised,
forever responding – is fern, is evergreen
that doesn’t wilt but gapes and breathes
and learns and beckons: planting seeds
and watering saplings young, word by
word, syllable by syllable, bulb by
bulb
The morning seemed quiet when I got up from my bed,
The air was still, as I shook the cobwebs from my head.
I walked slowly into the bathroom to wash my face,
Work must be done and I must prepare for my daily race.
Brushing my teeth and running water through my hair,
I know this day might be good and the weather is so fair.
Streams of sunlight peer through open shades,
I walk to the kitchen, barely awake in a daze.
Open the cabinet for the coffee just inside,
I notice it's empty and then I almost cried.
I gather up my clothes, in a such a terrible rush,
The coffee helps me focus, gives my brain a good flush.
I jump out the door with the speed of lightning,
Into my truck, without coffee my day is frightening.
A few brief minutes passes by as I blaze into town,
My trucks roars down the street with my gas pedal down.
I see Starbucks ahead and my mouth is watering,
Can't wait to taste my coffee for this morning.
Roll down my window with such hast to order my prize,
I ask for a large hazelnut coffee with joy in my eyes.
I make it to work a few minutes early today,
Knowing that I made it, but only halfway.
There telling me it’s in my brain
Neuro cells have gone astray
Can’t get them back, it’s in the genes
Now I’m paying for all his sins
They say to imagine a watering can
Tipping the scales to keep me sane
Medication-here we go
Bye bye to the Recina we have known
Don’t want to take it
Please, please, don’t
This makes dull
And each time I go.
I go to a place so dark and sombre
A place where im all alone to wonder
Wonder about how it came to this
And wonder about all the things I miss
I miss being able to laugh all day
I miss having friends that would never go away
I miss not having a care in the world
I miss just being a normal girl
They say it will get better with time
But time is not one on my side
You see my thoughts get darker as each does pass
I’m afraid one day I must succumb
Succumb to the voice in my head
The one that’s telling me I’m better off dead
I fight with this voice everyday
Why will it not go away?
I make my plans every night
On how I’m gonna give up this fight
As each night passes I say a prayer
“Oh Babaji I’ll meet you there”.
But then I wake and start again
The voices are back, so I again I must say
“There telling me it’s in my brain
Neuro cells have gone astray”.
i was coming from the break room
ready to open something sweet
when i pass by the room of a smiling kid
it was Christmas Day and the kid had tears in her eyes
her parents and other family members were Thanking and Praising God around her
it was then when i saw here cute, round, plump face that i remembered little julie steinbach
she turned 6 in june and jokingly said she wanted my cheese danish for her birthday
it is then that a nurse exiting the room with tears in her eyes as well exited the room
curious, i asked him what the source of such joyful, tearful emotion was
he told me the little julie steinbach just found out that she is now cancer free
it is then that my eyes too began watering and a smile took over my face
i asked if i could see her, and the nurse said sure
i politely and respectfully knock and little julie's eyes just lit up when she saw me
i told her and all in there that i just heard about the wonderful Blessing that they received this Christmas
i told little julie steinbach that i just bought a very special Christmas gift for her
she said 'gimmie gimmie' and i placed it in her hand
here eyes light up like the Christmas lights in the city when i put two cheese danishes in her hand
she asked if she could have some milk and her parents said in unison 'whatever you desire julie jewels'
i gave her the biggest hug and kissed her on her little forehead
being that my break had been over for a while, i wished little julie steinbach and all who love her a Merry Christmas
with that, i had to move on to where i left off
when i finally got off work that night, i attempted to go back to see little julie but she had already been discharged
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie fair, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
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bona fide hormonal hankering didst since Adam and Eve a wake
aromatic, balmy, and captivating as effect from drinking sassafras
kin powerful pulsations viz diving rod erect phallus
creating con fusion pro bono er to enter lips engorged mass
Pussy swathed qua tangle of coiled, kinked, and thatched course grass
Willy wonka with vestal virgin hair line gonadal zone **** embarrass
twig and berries rutting, rusticating, routing and romancing intent
to deflower re: piercing hymen
with nary immune to perdition or déclassé
hello kitty edenic tropic of cancer coital compass
emitting pheromones culling asper a bong
clapping banging brass
intractable supremacy reproductive sport
waging whore with contemporary take
verboten fruit sexual pang thrust forward
omnipotent magnetic thirst to slake
unstoppable passions flared unfazed as annals
depict how hot coals feet did rake
despite hollow religious strictures obloquy,
the serum filled genitals did quake
infiltrate historical manifestations, naked humans
prey zing clear or opaque
deities of yesteryear demonstrable
bas relief showers copulation doth make
primal urges imbued *****sapiens
e’er since first man saw lady of the lake
triggering libidinal longing inducing salivation sans love struck drake
multi-tiered mouth watering orgasmic gastronomic carnal cake
Aphrodite spellbinding storied sport thrives inducing heart break
imbuing human guys gals feverish enthralled dizzy catnip behoove ache.
It was "Girls' Night Out"
At the local watering hole
So my bestie and me
Headed there at a stroll.
A crisp autumn night
And we both wore our furs
I joked she was a copycat
Saying she should change hers.
She stopped in her tracks
Her stare cut like a sword!
"It was only a joke!"
And then we both roared!
We got to the bar
And I held the door wide
Truly never expecting
What was to happen inside.
"We don't serve HER kind"
The barkeep sneered at me
"You can come in
But set that dog of yours free!"
Here I must tell you
I live in a town
With rednecks and pickups
And nothing much brown.
My friend was from Asia
Her coloring too strange
For these bigoted, brainless
Rejects from the grange!
My friend showed her teeth
Not exactly a grin
And one big guy in a wife beater
Stood up and moved in.
Before I could blink
Or throw a good punch
My friend ate that cowboy
Like some tasteless lunch!
And the others raced out
Slipping on fallen beer foam
So I sighed and began calmly
Walking my tiger home.
Elegant wooden chariots are pulled by devotees;
In scorching sun, like buzzing bees, many on naked knees;
Though superstitions form parts of Puri festive features,
Gods and goddesses freely mingle with human creatures...!
Feats fill the Royal Enfield Himalayan Odyssey,
Riders at landscapes as though exploring geodesy;
Venture into vast adventures unfazed of life and death,
Young and old relish, ecstatically holding their breath...!
International Mango Festival is a wonder,
Mango marvels like fleshy jewels, our palettes plunder;
Displaying more than five hundred genre of mangoes,
Midst them are Dussehris, chausas, fuslis and Alphonsos...!
The Big India Food Festival is precious as well,
Where mouth watering dishes and delicacies compel;
Each day is a festive in India incredible,
Visit us! With songs and dances, enjoy each edible...!
12 July 2022
Christmas in July or July Celebration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
My Grandma has a garden
In which she will spend hours
Watering and weeding
And tending to her flowers
Many types and species
At least that’s what she said
Grow and sprout and climb about
Her backyard flower bed
Hens and chicks and cat mint
Spread thick across the ground
Adjacent to the Lambs Ear
With Fox Glove all around
The Elephant Ears
provide some shade
but look a little silly
Next to the soaring Zebra grass
And orange Tiger Lilly
Snap Dragons guard the border
While Lion Tales seek the sun
The Dog tooth Violet droops a bit
And the Spider plant start to run
I know it is her garden
And there’s no need for alarm
But Grandma’s lovely garden
Sounds much more like a farm!
Carrots, radishes, peas, and beans adorn my garden,
Nurturing each other, under the soil, smiling at the carrots.
The carrots themselves push up their green fluff, to play with the sun.
Ah, but at the other end of the garden are the pieces that delight me.
The marigolds, zinnias, snapdragons, and sweet petunias push up happily.
Glorifying Our Maker with their prettiness, understanding their role.
They will be brought inside with the healthy vegetables, to adorn the table.
They have the best job of all, and will be appreciated the most.
I rarely sit in the garden, I am too busy pulling the weeds,
Watering, and sending the garden faeries unconditional love.
I know they are nightly urging the vegetables to grow.
I wish I knew if it was time to uncover the potatoes.
My garden angels will come to me in a dream and tell me.
They always do. I depend on my angels to daily
Nurture me, and show me the truth of my well-loved garden.
I have never been disappointed, because I am one with her and them.
Written February 18, 2019
Contest: Gardens
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
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I stepped into the dark corridor, and by an accidental touch of kindness,
I entered into the haunted tower of time,
like a sonata full of hope born
and dreams of kisses by the river.
A hug that conquers the bastion of inadequacy
and destroys the silk defense lies.
A book emerged from under a stone,
was read in the bed,
and melted into the mist of some new sighs.
At the bottom of the well, I saw eyes
what are like a spilled handful of pearls.
*
From the bud of the name of the great
a golden-haired princess comes out and hugs me;
while racing across dry, creaking snow
from the Paris streets
and the blue book pages
smiling boy with a snowball
hits a chandelier full of candles
and pieces of light in all directions fly
like a wasted youth.
*
I wander around the world in search for a soul
in the dark and blind with despair.
Snow is everywhere
and downhill takes me down
to the frozen lake.
I can see my hands trapped
on the other side of the thin
ice cover.
I'm frozen like a stone pillar,
while only my live eyes cry.
From my tears
the seagull makes hope necklaces
to guard against all evil
names pronounced.
*
I drink wine from the birch tree,
putting presents on the lower branches
of silver and amethyst.
Cloak of the Great Sorrow
which covers my back and shoulders
I came to leave it
there, in the corner of the garden
where are the thick willows planted.
*
Under the giant Tree in a blizzard
I found a beautiful corner for meditation;
I untied the ponytail
cut off from me long ago by the demon,
sprinkled myself with snow,
and with the icy grains of remaining joy.
My hands are at the end, bare and empty.
*
With the inner eye, I hear the chorus of trees,
where the ancestral oak commands the willow
to pass through my nostrils
and create the Tree of life
with better woven
by watering sapling
with the red juice of my body.
Ready, I surrender
and I go into the ice bluish-whiteness
hugging me silently.
Finally, my peace comes
in the company of people
that were once like us
and we will all become like them
just like me now.
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