Long Élan Poems
Long Élan Poems. Below are the most popular long Élan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Élan poems by poem length and keyword.
when another (anointed as lady lucky)
resident renter bequeathed her bed
prior to that good samaritan deed thyself and spouse
slept on the floor like dogs dead
tired from another day acclimatizing ourselves,
especially when tummies got well fed
and grudging adjustment per lying supine upon the carpet
did upon arising found aches and pains from head
to toes, yet financial shortcomings disallowed this Jed
eye wannabe to defer attending domestic chores,
cuz ma whole body felt like a Led
Zeppelin, and matter of fact oft times,
thy body electric,
though lacked no evidence of disease NED
for short, I near felt a need to relearn basic motor skills,
gingerly, and eagerly reached for
performance enhancing drug i.e. PED
which coded identification
exemplified the a rich color of red
this (and other) prescription medication
(about a half dozen total found me to sleep akin to a Ted
dee bear, many instances of snoring
thine wife claimed emanated –
probably no more than when we wed
if memory serves me correctly
twenty plus years a husband aye attest
and find peace of body, mind and spirit
most exuberant and best
cherished, when hen pecking wife (yup, this husband
got pecking, pock, puck size marks
to vouchsafe his sworn statement)
some visible on my slightly flabby and hairless chest
and if traced with a ball point pen,
the shape loosely resembles mount Everest
with evidence of what appears to be erosion,
but actually evidence of wifely cannibalism –
viz zit on par as with an unwanted guest
which at first found this pop (sic) hull
averse to share the same firm mattress lest
she arise like a flesh eating zombie
during the wee hours of the morning and taking nest
ling to another level, whereby teeth
and scratch marks sure testament asper a pest
stiff ferrous mate, this husband would sooner bid adieu,
letting fate guide terrestrial quest
that might incorporate undergoing
the electric kool aid acid test
perhaps buffeting this corporeal essence north west
or maybe the unforeseen sojourn
would spirit thyself to a distant alien nation
one where each day of soundness of mental, physical
and spiritual growth will be reason enough
to celebrate with élan and zest.
Louise Imogen Guiney – Poetess and Writer
Louise Imogen Guiney sought a certain poetry of
perfection that rang true with a real radiance in her
poetry, that also bespoke a passion and feeling for
its lyrical nature as it was amply reflected with an
aura of spontaneity, a noted élan, and a sense of a
mystical moral verve. Guiney fashioned much of
her work around traditional poetic themes with a
distinct concern for both style and content.
Guiney’s profound religious orientation and desire
for this spirited feeling, along with her notion of a
certain perfection was defined and embellished by
her underlying concern with the Catholic tradition
in literature, and by her masterful view and concept
that brought the notions of heroic gallantry and
moral rectitude to the forefront of her scholarship
with regard to her poetry and her various literary
and historical studies.
The entirety of Guiney’s work and the mystic nature
of her poetic and literary endeavors imbued her with
a type of an early modernist touch similar to that of
T. S. Eliot, whose influence was twenty years into the
future, as he helped to bring the modernist movement
to fruition with the help of Ezra Pound and other poets.
All of these experiential forces, at hand, helped Guiney
to achieve her unique nature and brilliance over time as
a fine New England poetess of letters and scholarship,
and her poetry was all-inclusive of a grand and glorious
vision of English poetic traditions par excellence.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 22, 2018 (Narrative)
Author’s Note: Certain poems from Louise Imogen Guiney
have been reprinted in 2020. However, the complete and
definitive collection of her poetry: Louise Imogen Guiney –
Her Life and Works 1861-1920 was masterfully assembled
by the author-writer E. M. Tenison in 1922, and it was, in
1923, published by Macmillan and Company, Limited in
London. Tenison had indicated in a “personal note” that
Guiney had read this book in complete draft form before
her untimely death in 1920. This book is a collector’s item.
Plenty of room in « Le Foot »* for Soccer
For Doug Vinson at PoetrySoup.com
I
Not long ago King Pelé
Set “le foot” in America
Today his peoples’ muted “Olé”!
Rue the day at Maracana
Now from coast to conniving coast
Your Can-Can gals kick “le balon”*
No Wall in between the goal-posts
To win at summit many a “galon”*
Alright! Keep your cherished football
Iced-hoc-key bounced balls in basket
But let echo corked-leather on “saule”*
Crikey! "le cri-cri"* of “le cricket”
II
Tremble at the hakka-cry of the All Blacks
Cringe before Aussie toughs at Springbok élan
And let them romp with the Six-Nation packs
Over your greens with fifteen Argentinian
Call out to the run-machine Little Master*
And let his blade flash home-runs tout azimut
Over heads of fielders spectators and trainer
And let your millions throb and catapult
Your new knights sans armour in world arena
And gasp at fresh records topple centuries*
On pitch and turf in Tests across suburbia
And join the world in friendly rivalries.
*"Le Foot"or "Le Fut": French for football/soccer.
*"le balon": French for ball.
*"le(s) galon(s)": French for "stripes" as in "to win one's stripes in battle" (gagné ses galons au combat) .
*"le saule": French for the willow tree. "Willow" is metonymy for the cricket bat as the latter is made from the tree.
*"le cri-cri": familiar French for "le grillon", the insect cricket.
*"Little Master", sobriquet of Sachin Tendulkar, the retired legendary Indian test-cricketer, the counterpart of the Brazilian Pelé in soccer. See my poem: "The Little Master: Sachin Tendulkar", my most-read ever poem.
*"centuries": batting records in cricket run into a few centuries, mostly in five-day international test-matches.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
loving male, natural of pleasure, quintessentially
rendered suitable to us via way ova our darling daughter.
tis the blessing of this average, contemplative damn
ejected flotsam globular human impish jokester kooky lamb
misunderstood nonestablishmentarian outlier praises quality ram
rod sterling stately treasured undergraduate, ventures wielding yawping zeal
asper near perfect synchronized
ventured capitalone bond to me doth appeal
twas thankful to seminal accomplishment
dearest Eden Liat exhibited
when smart as a whip per snapper abilities did congeal
witnessing passing each grade with flying colors -
electrifying mien kempf as if stung from Alaska Bull worm eel
I ask you to - just take in stride wordy way as sigh guide "sea legs" to feel
along murky medium, how to communicate élan which doth heal
this figurative war torn, self strafed, kamikaze buzz-feeding,
eventually fostered grimacing hangdog ilk insensate
blitzkrieg assailed middle aged married male - during his early decades
endured passivity, while peers viciously throve on me with hate
tread - pock marked psychological scars perforated
positive faith in self, only now I feel great,
whence untrammeled passion presumed murmured between themselves
when alone pondering their fate
two vibrant young adults appear especially well suited,
as two peas in a pod
a radiant ionic bond they plainly equate
(one comprising thee "star student" progeny),
supremely mature to date
and thee well groomed Emmanuel
dust blend harmonious with "Ode to Joy" ye create
such an idyllic sight engendering tears of happiness
buffer and shine each alphanumeric byte, NOT phishing for bait
most pleasing sight assuages psychic purposefulness,
Anorexia Nervosa once ate.
Immaterial Soul
A sprout abundant of immortal hope,
a search of a pulse of love in his heart,
an empty threat vivid in a man of a dying soul,
as the echoes in his heart race to slay him whole.
Hope arrives within stone’s throw.
A shining star at the groove of absolute all-ness,
a crowning jewel for the kin Vincente’s,
the only appetite tis’ sole aspirer, to be one with all my family,
so shall it be my destiny found.
My greatest fear is death, the unknown timelessness of eternal life,
where confinement and salvation touch shoulders.
Immortality is a remote axiom, an alchemists’ fame of soul remembrance
A mortal’s search of Tipler’s omega point,
the last hope of salvation adjacent to this point,
tis not found but earned long as: the moral laws written on thy heart ensue.
Gilgamesh first state awed his last, the divines’ gift to he, astray,
the fountain of eternal life alludes his last state tis’ only hope is consciousness of thy neural network
Annus Miribalis hath hope for Gilgamesh’s immortal life.
So set him free. Let angles guide thy through the herculean task,
strength and honor hear of Gilgamesh’s survival, his sink in armor of humility indulgence, a chain of association whose lineage is of no close origins.
For gins today “weakness” in armor flourish as strength in fame of tomorrow.
A peerless thought patrols Gilgamesh’s talent, change the world with a breadth of “élan’ vital”
Annus Miribalis hath hope for Gilgamesh’s immortal life.
Through the looking glass of all mortals dogma,
Faith model give rise to sovereign heavenly body in one piece.
Tis thy divine decree. Sole talent forge the apples’ fruit skin,
Gilgamesh’s purpose put to bed past regret.
To unite, to end suffering and shatter all man-kinds intrinsic prisons.
Gilgamesh's journey tips the edge…
A fresh aroma of the winter roses bore upon
The break of the day light, the first ray hold upon
By the droplets beaded over the floral leaf
Mulled over by the sight so mimetic
The life glazed over the mist filled by the charismatic.
An ecstatic jubilation bided by the Christmas carol
The gala affair of the sunset, the last ray hold upon
By the beloved savored over the time cajole
Relived over by the chorus so balmy
The rendezvous solemnization blended by the carmine patty.
A warm welcome of the edging resolutions blessed upon
The solemnity of Mary, the first greet hold upon
By the wishes ordained over the coming élan
Pleased over by the time so worth
The time of the year met with the springtime growth.
Anew Sun brought upon the garden, bore upon
The green of the array, the first ray hold upon
By the moving moraine over the frost melted -
Drifted over by the season so pledged
The aroma suspired over the blue air, warmth blended.
Pooled by affections over the day choired by love, relived upon
Betrothals belonged forever, the first kiss hold upon
By the destiny manana over the time so limn -
Touched by the amity so dear
The warmth over the ardor met with sweetness so fair.
They held back for the bathe in the colour so motleyed, poured upon
The meme prevailed over decades across the east, the last ray hold upon
By the field blazed over the harvests so sear
Turned over by the air so brut
The time of the year met with the season so hot.
Note: Continued from Fragrance - II
No way to dodge fiat decreeing death sentence
for this rambling man
cheesy alias con commit tented mouse élan
Who felt unready to kick the can
On account of violating ban
Against abominable illegal mandate
With no way to commute death sentence
For the simple act of voicing opinion
against exist of heavenly gate
Of hellish underworld
despite religious opiate decreeing penance
Spurious pedagogical poetic rant
dialed up x telephonic times
Not the ravings of some half mad lunatic
Carefully plotted recitation
that springs from combined teachings of Kant
And jolly old Saint Nick
Charges trumped up per this average trump petting don
Purportedly blaspheming judeo-christian paradigm
Upending blind faith equated with hill of beans upon
Which dogma erected epitomized
by complex edifices via grime
Sweat and tears from slave labor
where usurpation of freedom won
Until outspoken spokes persons risked life and limb
To invalidate the existence
of supreme deity who created life
Whether for extra credit or perhaps on a whim
Adam from whose rib cage
without anesthesia but razor sharp knife
Sported eve with a physique quite pleasing and trim
But rather than get lost in the Garden of Eden myth
Final seconds of existence tick away
Without intent to recant statements
?
solely acceptable to b’ni brith
Prompting last words of mine as oye vay
With no regrets - deeming heart of religion flimsy as pith
Thing in the wind or house of cards
vulnerable to blow away!
I saw it in one of those chintzy antique shops.
I recalled that it was made for travelling musicians
that wanted to work out scores while not being overheard.
It was old and all wood. When I tapped the keys
they clacked, but each key to me seemed to clack
in a slightly different tone,
as if the pianist’s thoughts and intentions
had somehow imprinted
a musical counterpart into the inarticulate wood.
When I got it home
I propped it up against a wall, poured myself a drink
and thought what a fool I was.
The ice cubes in my bourbon tinkled unmusically.
I stared at it.
‘You can’t even play a kazoo you idiot, what the …..!’
Later, a little drunk,
I took it up and placed it on a table,
stretched my stiff fingers and played.
I played like I had never played before!
This was real, not an air-guitar thing.
Chopin and Mozart flowed through my hands
as I sped through deft keyboard exercises,
labelling quarter and eighth notes, dashing off
aurally different meters,
executing perfect pitch and phrase.
After the warm-up I was ready for my public.
With much élan and gusto, I thundered through
a dramatic First Movement.
The Andante I performed next was hauntingly beautiful.
I swayed on my stool in a deep artistic trance.
An invisible audience gasped and yes, they stood and roared
their approval, as the last note of a sonata I had
just composed, concluded a fiery Allegro.
Tomorrow I intend to jazz-duet with Oscar Peterson.
Man, it’s good to be dumb.
Ever brew tea in an industrial brewer?
I did just yesterday with a tea bag fewer
then more have seen. I watched it drip
mixing water with steam and drip leaving
lines in between, the loose leaves.of tea.
A star pattern there when I peeked to see
what a tea maker brews inside of a T.
And when the heat hit my eyes I realized
what was so familiar to me...'do mine path'
was inscribed in the leaves.
I considered to know what I believe.
I paused to consider what might deceive.
Just and before I tossed the leaves.
... smiles.
you ARE a dope and I'm knot mean. Just
neurotic transmission of the secret unseen.
A VEnue open to peace in the mind
blowing open holes that Time left behind.
It's a network framed in a windy rhyme.
It's a new avenue and a way to be kind.
Well.come.to the filters mind. A pleasure
of a center that we all can find.
Neurotransmitter. A natural ChiMe.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dopamine
Dopamine was first synthesized in 1910 by George Barger and James Ewens at Wellcome
Laboratories in London, England.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qi
Ch'i
Qi
It is frequently translated as "energy flow," and is often compared to Western notions of
energeia or élan vital (vitalism) as well as the yogic notion of prana. The literal
translation is "air," "breath," or "gas" (compare the original meaning of Latin spiritus
"breathing"; or the Common Greek p?e?µa, meaning "air," "breath," or "spirit"; and the
Sanskrit term prana, "breath" ).
Form:
Great thoughts are the great means we have
To rise from the lows and miseries of life
And soar high to the levels never reached
By those who never had to suffer the pain
The setback, unmerited, that fell to our lot:
It broke our back but reached not our heart.
Thoughts are the liberators at our command
To break open the gates of all ancient fads
That have held us captive in terror for years.
Thoughts set us free, spread wide our wings
We soar high in air, conquer oceans and land,
And we march on with friends, hand in hand.
Thoughts banish the doubts and inhibitions
And all that is clumsy and not so gleaming
In sights and surroundings that have broken
The spirits of men strong in will and power.
Now that we’ve no fears that shackle our feet,
We’ve the chance to fight life’s battles again.
Great thoughts may break the self imposed ban
That has denied us the courage to dare and win
The rewards and citations that can yet be ours
If we learn to ignore all tantrums and work on
And create timeless art that all humanity loves:
And we’ll sing to hope, happiness and élan.
Great thoughts give us the voice and the rhythm
To sing out in joy and elan to the green mountains
To the waves of oceans and the clouds parading by
To the colorful birds and butterflies whose tantrums
Are a serenade with flowers and foliage of our earth;
We’re no longer afraid of tyrants, ghosts or phantoms.
Great thoughts spread the carpet of grass to roll on.