Long Yearlings Poems
Long Yearlings Poems. Below are the most popular long Yearlings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yearlings poems by poem length and keyword.
Froggy is croaking
Somewhere where it’s boggy
He’s steering them clearly
A lighthouse, that froggy
Yearlings are frisky
Delightful, these dear things
But dawn is right risky
So fly, flee, you yearlings!
Morning is breaking
It’s sounding a warning
An astounding sunrise
A marvelous morning
Dillo is rooting
She’s billowed the pillow
Oh man, that’s the missus
Sounds darned like a 'dillo
Toady's exploding
A regular roadie
No stopping his hopping
He's touring, this toady
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Irish quatrains with 5x/6a/6x/6a, 2-syllable end rhymes, alliteration, internal and/or cross rhymes, and same start/end word. Seems like they sort of work for children's rhymes...
https://www.writersdigest.com/poetic-asides/breccbairdne-poetic-forms
I remember childhood carousel mirrors,
antique, ornate, intoxicating, glimmering,
glinting, gleaming, turning,
calliope piping, toy top twirling, shimmering.
I remember all those early years of yearning.
I remember grainy analog TV,
pallid, pasty-faced, fuzzy vestiges,
wavy-gray shadow-shades so giddy.
I remember the vapid, vacant egregious,
the dull corporate thievery of the airwaves.
I remember polychromatic butterflies,
splodgy, splotchy, wavy, Lepidoptera,
dewy glorious mornings playing in a puerile land.
I remember wispy pastels, childish whispered chimera hopes.
We all wanted to believe in the carousel.
I remember wooden yearlings swirling,
ponies pumping, rolling, my resemblance careening,
my semblance of being aspiring in glittery silvery sterling.
I remember so many seraphs pirouetting,
all silently streaming, mercifully redeeming.
I remember childhood carousel mirrors.
Wild horses still run
racing off to the beat
of some distant drum
the wind catching their wheat
in the swaying winter manes
with their figures a shadow in open plains.
Hoof beats pound the earth
pounding out the rhythm of a storm
where sky and land were birthed
and yearlings were free when first born
harnessed of late by the girth and bridle of man
they slip into submission apart from the open land.
Wild horses have withered over the years
as native lands are taken away
and the memory of freedom disappears
every day in the games men play
long rivers and flat rocks no longer bend the knee
to the mountains falling into the sea.
"The Wind of Heaven"
Justin Hayward
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5RMPUJE44s&list=PLO-UbICkLW9N1nn4ZW7m0JbHHPtxmjWVW&index=5
Its 2017 and my odyssey is far from begun.
Nearly ending every yearlings dwindling
Found above ground without Mona Lisa's lungs.
Without air is mortality.
Anything else is air mortality.
Painted on a picture is a mural on a bar stool room wall. Blank faces stare beneath the counter.
As I drink myself under the taker.
Only to arise with the power of ten thousand men—Truth be told, that’s about less than ten thousand women, infant and children.
Elderly has forgotten and our honest approach takes a step forward.
How is unthinkable. Why is unimaginable. Anger is intolerable garble and forgotten is an ancient power that is truly god-like...forgotten
1-20-2017
Hellacious howls tickle and titillate
the trompeleil scene
in the pastel Court of Kings.
Flamboyancy rings as the
fluttering coo of a rapiers dance in the hands of fops,
through the high ceilinged corriders of castle in the chill air
buzzing past the ears
of the mischievous lillipitians, yearning,
egging on yearlings with antiquated filigreed foils.
Ludicrousity runs riot
trolloping in fandango-clicks of hooker-red
across the quilt-stitched batten puffed blazers
of Dukes and Pimpernels pompously prancing
before beatific, porcelain, wig-topped dolls
rouged and hollow-eyed.
Chroniclers cavort in the manner of angry bees
on spindle-pins, their stocking encased legs
pawing at pedagogs who gawk slack jawed.
Only the puncture of flesh-framed torsos
brings an end to the melee.
*Melee, generally refers to disorganized close combat
involving a group of fighters.
Y
Yggdrasil
younglings
yobbishly
yohimbine
yammering yardsticks
year-round
yuppifying
yuppifies
yokefellow
yarborough
yellowtail Ypsilanti
yearningly
yellowback
yarmulkas
Yevtushenko
Yellowstone yachtswoman
yellowfin
yellowing
yearlings
yodellers
yearnings
yachtsmen yesterdays
yearbooks
yachtsman
youngberry
yarramans
yellowhead
yeastiest yardstick
yieldingly
youngling
yogyakarta
yoghourts
Yugoslavia yodelling
Youngstown
yarmulkes
yataghans
yawningly
yellowish
youthfully cowardly
yellowness
youngsters
yeastlike
youngness
Yiddish
yardmaster
yuppiedom youngster
Yaroslavl
Yellowknife
yellowcake
Yugoslavian
yuppified
Yorkshire
yellowest
yattering
yellowlegs
yesterdays
yeastiness
ytterbium
yesteryear
yardbirds
YouTubing
yellowwood
yellow-belly
Yucatan
yourselves
yabbering
Y words?
8/11/20
written word by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
Night, drape deep in slumber.
O dream, to nightmare turn?
Multitude, legion, number!
Death, dearth to discern...
Rule of law in wasted land?
Show them, when ye stand.
Orderly, cold countermand?
Break before bed, band.
Young fools making with the schtick?
Candle, burn out quick.
Light both ends and nicker. Wick?
Bone within me, pick.
Wound in heart of warrior?
Stray, become the cur.
Dynamite, how to deter?
Blades and chimes a-whir.
Terrible to live? Oh, yes.
Blossom, O my stress.
Torment, foment thy best guess!
Who would be the less?
Ululation, ugly, meld.
Hound, bay in the street.
O for yearlings on the geld!
Bill, pay self with beat.
Fallow field in autumn?
Rickshaw on the move?
Congregation, sing a hymn!
Inspire to improve...