Long Zealand Poems
Long Zealand Poems. Below are the most popular long Zealand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Zealand poems by poem length and keyword.
I love to travel anywhere, the more foreign the better for me,
Strange lands and how other people live is very interesting to see.
This travel bug I caught got started when I was only eighteen years old,
A college friend and I went to the Bahamas, we were fearless and so bold.
Then I started my career and I knew to take advantage of this time,
Each year I’d set off somewhere new, after saving my every dime.
I traveled to beautiful Hawaii followed by South America the next year,
One of my favourites was Bermuda, I was young, memories so dear.
I flew over to England and stayed for a fortnight to visit a new friend,
We toured all around Scotland traveling as far north as Land’s end.
After that I spent a lot of time in the Caribbean, the trips become a blur,
Many islands look the same, palm trees and beaches, others will concur.
Mexico was interesting studying the Mayans from Chichen Itza to Tulum,
Manzanillo to Puerto Vallarta, high cliffs where the waves crash and loom,
Got engaged in Myrtle Beach, so it holds a special place in my heart,
Then honeymooned in Jamaica where we spent not a moment apart.
Once the children came along, the travel plans required a major adjust,
We would go away on 5 year anniversaries, this was an absolute must.
A Caribbean five island cruise then the next trip two weeks in New Zealand,
But my favourite place remains the Greek islands, windmills, sun and sand.
Liechtenstein, Austria and Switzerland was a mother-daughter trip,
I showed her the ropes of travel and how much to leave for a tip.
Seems this travel bug of mine has proved to be a little bit contagious
My daughter now loves travel but her destinations are more outrageous.
While traveling is usually an educational journey, one that I just adore,
I’ve had moments in Egypt and the Holy land, that chilled me to the core.
But even during these very scary times, one thing that stands forever true,
The people there were kind and caring, someone always willing to help you.
I think that I still have a few more trips left in me, if my pocket book holds out,
Need to see eastern Europe, China and Africa, there’s more to learn, no doubt.
For the meeting of new people and learning their culture, gives my life new lease,
It provides the burden of proof that all should know, we need to work for peace.
Written by Lee Ramage
For Contest "Close your eyes and click your heels"
Built in a Belfast shipyard
for Shaw Savill ‘n Albion Line.
On her flagstaff wind ‘n lee
flew the Southern Cross ensign,
down a slipway to the sea
launched afar by Her Majesty
Behold her pale eau de nil
green ‘n painted hull of grey,
at twenty knots her rate
twenty thousand tons aweigh.
On the seas a ship of fate
the world to circumnavigate
Yon the Empire far ‘n wide
from Southampton to Trinidad.
Where from ship to shore
off I waved goodbye as a lad,
till in the distance I saw
my home to be nevermore
Smoke from her aft funnel
into a big Caribbean sky blew,
then set a course westerly
by merchant captain ‘n crew.
And to each port ‘n quay
across the ocean carried me
I remember gazing in awe
up ‘n down her length ‘n beam,
at the mighty waves below
and how sea ‘n ship did gleam.
In canal gates under tow
winding our way lazy ‘n slow
Crossing the equator I saw
Davy Jones ‘n King Neptune
rising up out of the deep
‘neath a high December moon.
Till in safe passage ‘n keep
back to the depths they leap
Out on Oceania as a boy
in the lido deck pool I did dive.
The Southern Cross ‘n me
would our long voyage arrive,
on in all her hope ‘n glory
the grand old lady of the sea
On final Far East voyage
would alas be her swan song,
beached on a tidal seaway
sold ‘n scrapped in Chittagong.
A line flagship in her day
stripped bare where she lay
Written: May 2017
It was on board this ship nearly 50 years ago that me and my family left Trinidad bound for New Zealand - I was nearly 8 years old. We arrived on Christmas Day 1968 in Wellington (pictured) and a couple days later disembarked in Auckland. Built in the same shipyard as the Titanic in 1954, the SS Southern Cross had a far more fortuitous career transporting immigrants and pleasure seekers across the British Empire until her sad and final resting place in Chittagong, Bangladesh (pictured) where she ended her 50 years of service as the Ocean Breeze in a ship-breaking graveyard in 2004. She was the first passenger liner to be launched by a reigning monarch. Not a big ship by today's standards but as a boy to me she was huge - I thought she was magnificent. Still do.
Tresa faerie was excited.
Today was the day assignments were coming out.
She had been in training for six weeks.
She wondered where she would be placed.
Alaska? Paris? Tokyo? Hawaii? New Zealand?
Kenya? Texas? Rome? California?
She was quivering with pure excitement.
Would she be an April Faerie?
An April faerie gets to paint the flowers.
She had put it down as her first choice.
Second choice was not bad either. She might be assigned to a prophetess,
Whispering premonitions in her ear, being rewarded with love and affection.
Prophetesses were known to take especially good of their faeries.
Third choice was tree faerie; she loved trees, especially the Cottonwoods,
And the oaks, the elms, the weeping willows, the Rose of Sharons.
Which reminded her of flowers. Yes, being an April faerie was her first choice.
She sat up especially straight, wearing her favorite colors of pixie dust.
Her faerie wings had never been more shiny.
Her friend Garland winked at her.
He waved his envelope at her and laughed.
He was sitting up front; had his assignment first.
The instructions were to wait until everyone had their envelope,
but Garland never heard instructions; or followed them if he heard them.
The way he was grinning, she knew
he probably got his first choice – fire faerie.
His job would be to inspire people to have campfires,
sing, and listen to each other.
Her envelope was placed in her hands.
They were shaking now. She ripped it open.
Desk faerie! One of the worst jobs of all, a muse to a writer! What?
Disappointment flooded her; she was shaking now,
and harder, for she was crying.
The instructor came over, took both her hands
and said, ”It is the most important job,”
For writing the truth reminds people what mistakes have been made,
and shows them how to correct them, live with each other,
love each other, and it changes the world.”
She was not convinced.
A muse!
She was a muse?
She had never wanted to be one.
Muses had bad reputations, like brownies and elves.
She would HATE being a muse.
She hated it already. Until she was assigned,
and then she immediately loved it.
It is all a matter of being assigned to the right person,
you see, and she was…assigned to you.
I'm ready if you are.
Steadily walking past wekas, canoes, sailboats, motorboats, along concrete paths, down ash-felt slopes
Across intersecting car trails
Drawn only by the beckoning beach.
Feet slipping over Northland's rough green grass
Damp, spongy, smooth grit of coarse golden sand
Surrounding bush covered hill houses
Silently call your name, drowning out the cicadas.
'Where are you? Did you come?
I'm ready if you are.’
Sinking into still water
Invited into the giant’s bathtub
Slowly sit, deep ideas, deep tides
Run rocks between my toes, sandals
Nesting dotterel, raucous red billed gulls dive bomb
Cute little scoundrel of a dog, owning the beach.
Gaze on other swimmers, friendly laughter hastens
Early morning dippers, holiday makers, with quiet chat, Slipping away, back to their working day,
Driving uphill to Russell, leaving quiet Tapeka Bay.
'Would you love it here?' Smile.'
Dumb question, who wouldn't?'
'I'm ready if you are.'
Deep soundings, cool water
Your name echoes silently from windless hills.
I grab my towel, dislodge stones from my sandals
Guide myself blindly up the streets and hill,
Steady along concrete paths, past canoes,
Pausing in the doorway to a soft bed where I find you.
Dry weeping salt from my eyes
'I'm ready if you are..'
Sleep confused, “Where did you go?''
'...to the beach'
Standing tall above your sleeping form
Hope listens, living breaths,
Hope listens, silent non response
Hope falls, body turns away
Breath, mouth, not ready to start their day.
Unspoken questions fall only
on sleeping stroke-fatigued ears.
Standing there, alive, energised,
'I'm ready if you are.'...Not!
'If you are not ready now
Where will I find you? Where will I find you later?
Will I find you later?
Arisen, alive, leaping energetic, with laughter
Smiling, saying 'Come swim with me!'
Hope turns to fantasy.
Outside along the concrete path
Wekas linger
Towels, togs swing in the bush edged clothesline
Canoes rest
Awaiting the excitement of days spent ploughing through the water.
Tears linger
Sounds of the shower
Washing the salt away.
February 2017
Bar none, no shortage of soap shampoo, nor detergent
Courtesy food pantries
Saint Eleanor's Saint Mary's,
Our Daily Bread,
the missus and yours truly (her spouse)
well stocked with good n plenti of
soap, shampoo and detergent.
Spongebob squarepants
would be in seventh heaven,
where sudsy clouds (resembling
Mister Krabs, Plankton,
Sandy Cheeks, Squidward, et cetera),
would drift across celestial vault.
Gratitude bequeathed to prophets of virtue
benevolent good samaritans
who trend righteous true
to the calling of helping hands who renew
faith (mine) in goodness of humanity
assisting not only yours truly
and the missus, but people
from South American country named Peru
or even indigenous tribes
accorded recognition comprising
population of inhabitants occupying New
Zealand, offered reparations
under the Treaty of Waitangi,
a process of reparation allowed
Maori to be fully recognized
at political level in lieu
of unfair practices inflicted upon
original occupant loosely similar
to descendents of long lost tribes of Israel,
endowed with (pure tin) pride
wishing I too could call myself proud Jew,
nevertheless attraction manifests destiny
(mine) someday to learn Hebrew.
Courtesy atheism more so Unitarianism,
I need not adopt
an explicit dogmatic, fanatic, humanistic...,
lunatic, narcissistic, puritanic... paradigm,
but only tout poetic justice (mine)
to recognize laudable traits
linkedin to orthodox faiths,
albeit rationalistic rubric
that caters to selflessness
for no other reason
than allowing, enabling, and promoting
random acts of kindness
without any forthcoming great expectation
downplaying remuneration,
no matter destitution begot mein kampf
hard times living within bleak house
slight hyperbolic exaggeration
poor as a cheesy church mouse poet.
Lemme coast to a fitting conclusion
bringing reasonable rhyming blather
originating courtesy me noggin,
within which wool doth gather
thus I a halt and
dial down philosophical lather,
cuz most likely
ye dear reader would rather
experience palmolive oil slather
preparatory to full body massage.
WISE ASS
You know this person!
In middle school his perfect sarcasm
seems funny and bold and wise to our ears,
makes adults and institutions seem hopelessly
inept, disingenuous, insecure
By high school, however, his wise ass
negativity wins lots of first dates but
never real girlfriends, even the bad girls
back off, and the jocks and jazz drummers
have better things to do than hear a bitter
monologue about the social studies teacher,
the new librarian’s hair-do, the gym
teacher’s twitching left eye
In college or the service
he gets to see the nation, gets to
travel overseas and build a bulging catalog
of every quirk and fault in every community
and culture – the languages and the hair,
the religions and the traditions are simply stupid
or depraved, insipid or immoral, patently unworthy
of the exploratory tendencies of the intellect
or the heart
Newly in the workforce
he is the unanimous selection for union representative
but elected only once because he actually loves fighting,
not negotiating, for the salaries and the benefits
that his colleagues surely deserve
The neighbors are sure
that his wife is a saint, that the children are scarred,
everyone hoping that she moves to New Zealand
and the kids change their surnames, melt into the
fabric of Chattanooga or Dubuque, perhaps Orono
or Las Cruces leaving him alone to nail everyone he
encounters with his porch signs and t-shirts, his
infallible ability to see through good intentions
to the deceitful, the liberal and the miserable
among us who make everything so wrong!
In the senior housing complex
he has friends for three months
then takes his meals alone in the company
of others, his only real exercise the occasional
walking back of an asinine comment or a bitter
observation, and when moved to assisted living,
his behavior is so bad that staff wishes out-loud
for his early demise, a desirable situation
which in spite of their strong commitment to the
God of all good things, they successfully engineer
for the good of all concerned!
ABC Animal Twist
Adored and diverse, life thrives on earth; each day nature sees new births.
Big and small, abundantly in seas and trees; great beauty breathes.
Chameleons, cats, corn snakes, and coots, survive great threats in life's pursuit.
Delightful dragonflies from dart frogs duck; drake-crakes scoot upon lakes.
Eagles and egrets soar blue skies; an elephant endangered cries.
Fabulous fauna: fairy flies, and deer upon flora feed needs.
Graceful purple gallinules, young goats, and giraffes bring joyful laughs.
Hag-fish, halibut and hammerhead birds…birds? Yes! Nature preserves.
Insects and ibis work their charm; crusty isopods cause alarm.
Jaguars enjoy tasty meals; leftovers are the jackals' appeal.
Kiwi that fruits, kiwi that flies both species in New Zealand resides.
Living world the Creator made; since the beginning, wisdom stayed.
Matchless miracles, wonders, and births together blessed on our earth.
Never alone, no matter where, life exists here, there, everywhere.
Oh how beautiful, artfully wonderful, God-primed blissful place.
Planet earth and outer space together share a glorious race.
Question not; God loves this world. See creations glide, slide, swim, and swirl.
Reverence life; it was made with love; He still watches from up above.
Still breezes and sunshine please; sturgeon, shrimp, salmon, and sardines feed;
Termites, thrashers, terriers and teal find niches that have appeal.
Under God's skies, the umbrella birds fly. Man ponders; God replies.
Venomous snakes make rodents quake; Vultures clean up for good health's sake.
Weeping willows watch wolves whelp; chirping yellow warblers sing to elves.
X-Ray fish known since early days leave modern man looking amazed.
Yosemite toads, yetis, and yaks live on the lands without lack.
Zoology on earth from alligators to zorilla zings!
© Name withheld for the contest
February 24, 2010
Poetic form: ABC
See> ANIMAL HABITAT PICTURES LINKS for my ABC Animal Twist poem It was posted
separately as a list poem. OK I hope. Smiles
Do we see the world
through rose coloured glasses
Durst cut up the bodies of people
Psychologists say
He must have a mental illness
perhaps but the spanish
conquistadors cut up the bodies
of american indian babies
did they all have a mental illness
the New Zealand Maori
had the victory feast
where they sat and ate
the captives that lost their battle
culture after culture has been
cannibalistic treating each other
in horrible ways
did they all have mental problems
look back through history
and every culture every race
has treated others horribly
The American indian tied
a man legs to two different bending trees
and used the trees to split him in two
the Japanese Used slivers of bamboo
to take off one nail at a time
The English had hung drawn a quartered
a man was hung then dragged through the town
behind horses before being cut in four
with his head put on a stake
to warn others
not to break the law
The Russians attacked and killed
their Czar and his family
killing their aristocracy
to create a Communistic state
do they all have a mental disorders
or are all people capable
of horrific behaviours
I don't think that
I could ever do what has been done
but how much
of who am i
has been taught to me over the years
if I had been brought up in a different way
could I be a different person
How much do we owe to God
the bible teaches love thy neighbour
the bible became the foundation of our laws
is civilisation just a fabric
a facade
an illusion
created to make ourselves feel better about life
are we progressing toward paradise on earth
or are we heading back into the depths
of deprivation
Is man just an animal waiting to be unleashed
or is he the scholar
the lover waiting to grow
Imagine the bomb going down on Iraq
their metal fragments slicing like knives
through a two year old
Granted they attack the world
they use children as cannon fodder bombs
when will human beings learn to love all people
no matter what colour we are all the same
A Ship In A Bottle
My great Grand Father sailed to New Zealand on a ship called the Wild Deer in 1872. I have always loved ships in bottles, and one day decided I would drain a pretty bottle of its contents and put the inspiration back inside. It took three months to complete the project.
It sits there on the sideboard
Or on the mantle shelf,
And after such a long time
You don’t notice it yourself.
But should you have a visitor
Or younger child come by
It will spark interest anew
And gasps of “Me oh my!”
It’s then the curious wonder
How the ship was put inside,
And where the opening’s concealed
And was it hard to hide?
And if you put it in there
How many times you tried?
And if it went in through the neck
How could it be so wide?
It’s then you tell the story
Of going to the store
To find a bottle of good clear glass
With a shape worth planning for.
Dimple Haig is famous,
Carduh’s pretty fair,
The first one is triangular,
The other one is square.
The bottle must be decanted,
When empty cleaned and dried,
And a careful measure taken
Of the dimensions inside.
It’s then you render drawings
Of the ship you want to make,
And plan out going backwards
Every step you’ll have to take.
First you carve the hull
Of wood with grain that’s fine,
Then step the masts with hinges
So they fold down in a line.
You add the sails and rigging,
Check how they’ll erect
When’s time to pull the halyards
Through the bottle’s neck.
It takes months to finish
Doing a little every night,
I had my children watching
And remarking at the sight.
They saw me put in plasticine
To mold and shape the ocean
And carve wave crests with a spoon
To give the water motion.
When at last the time is right
And everything is ready
You carefully set the ship upon
The sea and hold it steady.
Then pulling on each halyard
The sails are slowly raised
And those who watch the process
Stand enchanted and amazed.
AMBER DAWNS APPEAL
A wish, a dream, from birth til death,
"Mummy I'm going to Disneyland to see Mickey Mouse”.
Beautiful words from a soul so small,
Everyday from dawn til dust her words stood tall.
Riddled with pain day in and day out,
Dammed Cystic Fibrosis from gene's it did sprout.
New Zealand your money you gave with love,
A soul you took and held, lent from above.
The Lions club helped to start your appeal,
And finally your dream was for real.
And your dream and your wish it finally came true,
When at four and a half off to America we flew.
Pain to pleasure was over your face,
To Mickey you ran winning your race.
Ending your wish and dream touching his hand,
A smile on your face as Mickey swung you from land.
As he knelt down with one knee on the ground,
You could hear a pin drop as the crowd stood around.
You swung your arms around him and squeezed his neck tight,
Then you looked at him with a smile and eyes big and bright.
“Oh my Mickey Mouse I can die now”, was all you said,
One month later you passed away on Mickey’s home made bed.
I always knew you didn’t belong,
I always knew you didn’t have long.
You were special and God knew that,
With his hands he sat you in my lap.
At four and a half he took you home,
Every day I thank him for my earthy loan.