Long Waterspout Poems
Long Waterspout Poems. Below are the most popular long Waterspout by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waterspout poems by poem length and keyword.
“The fairy was flying in loops and swirls around her,
shedding fairy dust as she went. Throwing it at Wendy.
Delighted, the human girl raised her arms up
to fully experience what was happening. Delicate
golden sparkles floated down and kissed her skin.
Where they touched, Wendy felt lighter.
Tiny pains she hadn't even realized
she felt entirely disappeared, and
any weariness vanished.
She felt rested, energetic, and- airy.”
— Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning
PIXIE SUE AND LITTLE OLD ME
greenery fell on me,
spare not the show —
a pixie dancing deliriously
all aglow
wrinkled bark of the wise old oak,
tickled pink,
his wizened spark —
an ageless drink
pixie sue in polka dot dress
amuses the congress —
applause adrift
in giggling face-lifts
opulent oaks
shake their bountiful heads.
the verdant snow —
a confection of Spring, spreads
my leather toes pointed
with little bell swings
melody of a child’s heart —
ring ring ring
and i’m lifting, floating, flying
freely into cloud high —
a tornadic bliss,
a kiss from the earth to the sky
sue looks up in disbelief,
cries —
she wants to live life larger,
grow in size
the leaves twiddle
and twirl,
crafting a nifty nest,
a basket for this panglossian girl —
no a boat — a love cruise
that sails up to the sky.
sue spots her friend,
lands on her head, amused
a hat for me
a strawberry beach for her —
the scent unexpected so far out.
pixie sue with pointed toes — a waterspout
the oaks
extend their limbs,
as polka dots
deliriously fall on them
4/7/2020
Somewhere between the molecules
and neurons in my brain,
lies latent creativity,
between miracles and mundane.
Although of late, still sleeping,
wandering, adrift,
as if in need like watering seeds
to bloom its innate gift.
Itself to heights out of the night
and into light again,
somewhere behind the prefrontal lobe
a thought begins to spin.
Like a waterspout, a funnel cloud,
or a black hole in deep space,
yet smaller than a pinhead
with angels dancing on its face.
While it craves to know its master
and begs to be reborn,
as if it knows it's time and place,
and laughs with mirth and scorn.
Much like a clown, a trickster now,
hiding in the weeds, lying,
between my amygdala and medulla,
creativity teases me.
I know not where it's leading,
if any place at all,
but only know to listen,
to its faint, quiescent call.
That may lead to greener pastures
where wisdom's waiting there,
some little treasures I've been after
or perhaps, disaster and despair.
The only way of knowing
is to take the winding road,
inside my mind where love is kind
and thoughts that matter grow.
While listening to the wind and rain
or gazing on the Milky Way,
creativity unfolds like silver and gold,
and children lost in play.
As it rises, falls, expands, and stalls,
leaving all perplexed,
waiting for the moment when
another young bird leaves its nest.
And spreads its wings and learns to fly
and let itself be known,
to feathery flocks, sea, sky, and rocks
and wherever it may roam.
In this never-ending, mind-bending journey
of mountain peaks to climb,
for the creative urge to feel the surge
of Creativity in our minds.
My name is Fibber Mouse Flat bush McGee
Yep, That's me, next to that waterspout
I got this name because you see
They got down to two names and ran out
It's OK, I don't really mind that much
because if there'd been even one person less
I'd be called Sonny Snakeskin at lunch
and that name's even harder, I guess
What good is a name anyhow?
It's not like I'm Mildred Louise Cow
who walks around with nose in a cloud
Because she got a double name somehow.
You know, sometimes it's hard to be a mouse
Everyone thinks we're going to eat their house
And I bet being a snake isn't easy any day
People see you, then scream and run away.
Anyhow, here's the deal, from now on:
If you're looking for Fibber, he's gone.
You can call me F.F.B. Mouse McGee instead
Don't worry, it won't go to my head!
hear others out there, just beyond my wall-wrapped sharing space
they break on through, sneaking inside my head
far above, front-nosed pilots point high-flying seated people tubes
passengers squeezed in tight, some feeling dread
as jet engines cloud-buffet, amplifying reverberations
chimney-chambers funnelling their muffled sound
momentary fear spills downward into the peaceful living-room
then gone, soon forgotten, on journeys bound
clank and clang, lift-arm lorries crawling slowly by the gateway
sin bins scooped, coloured cravings half-consumed
cascades of clinking glass crescendo, bottle-bank vomiting noise
rapid cadence, ambient drone resumed
programmed heat, timed with boiler clicks, powering-up, igniting
cold metal creaks around expanding joints
curtains swish, blinds roll open, bleary blinking, homely morning eyes
aural sequencing as the day appoints
distant yowl of hooter horn, duly departing commuter train
car doors slam, abrupt jarring intrusion
gauntlet-running mothers compete with pavement-blocking pupils
fumes linger, safety scarring delusion
radio din, depressing electro-magnetic compression
shovelled earth beside the thin blaring-out
men again dig doggedly, patching patches for the umpteenth time
careless strike, gushing hiss of waterspout
road tyres clip, manholes rattle, drum the brief mid-morning lullaby
rise and fall, the doppler siren speeding
two-wheeled tiny engine buzz, irritating as it nears the ears
loudspeaker hails, vies for votes its pleading
post person presents the parcels, delivering rat-a-tat-tat
cats scurry as scratching dogs lunge and bark
then sudden bang, spread-eagled pigeon, wingspan on window-pane
stunned, fluttering, hoping to reach the park
A storm is brewing in the azure ether
Somber clouds loom with thunderbolts
Shadows enshrouded small seaside town
Tides crashes with ire against the rocks
Inner turmoil seethes in Lara's addled mind
Racing thoughts haunt through the years
Double personality was an escape from reality
Evincing the forbidden behavior by society
Cloudburst flooded the fishing coast by hours
Paralyzing a town when time seems stand still
Waterspout appeared in the fierce ocean waves
Desolating Cape Fishing Town without mercy
Shiny sun rays appeared in the sky after the storm
As a sign of hope between the desolated scene
Lara came out from the basement used as shelter
The inner and outer tempest concluded synchronously
For A Storm Is Brewing Contest
Sponsored by Kelly Deschler
Fifth Place
4-17-2016
Sycamore tree, swing thee far?
On a crescent line?
Yes, sir. As I strive for par:
I think of the vine.
Due, friend, to its supple reach?
Twist and turn a-right.
Spark within me, I beseech.
Flicker, fly, and fight.
Well, young man, mythology.
Legends of the old?
Ancient is the redwood? Sea.
Lava makes the gold.
Sword, point heavenward and stand.
Enforce hell's command.
Fear severe, have you been planned?
Fire, forms frequent fanned?
Doubt, without? Tough taut to tout?
Down the waterspout.
Lily pad, repair or rout?
Flagrantly to flout.
Yet organized the strong ones step.
Each in rhythmic racks.
Soldier, load thy gun with pep.
Notes hang up with tacks.
City bells, alarums.
What message will you ring?
Plume volcanic, ply thy plums.
Blister as ye bring.
Crumbs. Chaos, thy star dances.
Dissonant its flow.
Fate and Fortune, white chances.
Black the broken bow.
'The incy wincy spider went up the waterspout,
Down came the rain and washed the spider out,
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,
And the incy wincy spider went up the spout again'.
Now here is the thing you should know by now,
There is always more to the story somehow,
And Incy Wincy’s no exception to that rule,
So here’s what they never told us in school.
Now when Incy Wincy grew to be much older,
The hourglass on her back became a little bolder,
Then one fine day from the web where she lay,
She asked Mr. spider to come over and play.
I’ll guarantee a fine dinner I’ll make,
And a few liberties I might just let you take,
When he moved in for a hug, she held him tight,
He soon realized something wasn’t quite right.
It is true that beauty is only skin deep,
Deception is an art that some people keep,
So if you rush into a relationship too fast,
You might just find that it isn’t going to last.
****