Long Abbey Poems
Long Abbey Poems. Below are the most popular long Abbey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abbey poems by poem length and keyword.
Alone, where winds had smoothed the cobblestone,
a young novice sat, solemn and austere,
brooding over mistakes made, seeds past sown.
Entering the abbey; a fate severe,
she wept with sadness when dismay had grown.
Praying, she cried, "In Your Word I abide."
Her soul ached; tears were silently falling.
"Strengthen my faith, Father. Be at my side.
Forgive my despair. This is my calling.
I know from You there's nothing I can hide."
Stark loneliness grew; hope quickly dwindled.
In solitude her days would reach their end.
Then came enlightenment. Faith rekindled
in whispers to her as angels descend.
She dropped skeins of yarn, carefully spindled.
Down on penitent knees she bent and bowed.
"Forgive my apathy. I've been a fool
to hesitate, Father, for I have vowed
my humble life to serve beneath Your rule."
With an overjoyed heart, she spoke aloud.
Have Gum; Will Not Travel
Forget it! I am not going five thousand miles just
To be bored and homesick. No.
And what am I supposed to do there, besides go broke?
What am I supposed to be looking at anyway?
Why must I take another banal photo at the Eiffel Tower,
With stupid me jumping into the air there like some fool
Who should know better? Paris is filthy! And everyone is mean.
Just like the people and places back home. No! I will not
Spend ten hours on a cramped jet filled with sneezing nostrils,
One or two of which could be terrorists just waiting to strike,
Ready to hijack the plane and drive it murderously into
something made of indestructible steel,
While my nervous stomach knots up with gaseous explosions,
Ready to strike the air at any moment,
worst than any terrorist contraption imaginable.
No! Forget it. Why would I want to travel to some other country,
Just to be constantly miserable and exhausted all the time?
“Okay, there is Westminster Abbey, and oh,
there’s the Thames River floating on by!
Wow! Now what do we do? Should we get a bite to eat?
And then maybe go back to the hotel and sleep? I am dead!”
Then early the next day we must catch a cramped train to Rome,
Where the people are crazy, just like the people back home,
“Okay, this is gnarly.”
My diarrhea is a cross between black oil and kerosene.
Why am I taking this picture,
another typical shot in front of the Leaning Tower?
Am I doing this to put on social media to show my phony friends
What a fabulous time I am having?!
Why of course. I didn’t spend thousands of dollars,
and endure all this misery,
Not to show off my wonderful times in Europe;
Truly a status symbol I treasure with all my heart,
But detested with all my soul in acquiring it.
The moon reflected on the sea,
A night more beautiful than day.
I wheezed and struggled up the steps
And looked out over Whitby Bay.
I saw the harbour far below,
And heard the splashing of the waves,
I turned around to see the church,
The ruined abbey and the graves.
I thought of Dracula, the Count,
Imagined him and Lucy there,
And then I saw a hulking shape -
But, oh, the menace in that glare.
He showed his fangs and hissed at me;
My feet were rooted to the spot.
I cried for help and waved my arms
At people on a distant yacht.
He lunged and bit into my neck;
I tried to fight but felt so weak.
And that is how I came to die -
And you’re the prey I need to seek…
for Darren's Bram Stoker contest
Oh noo' It has happened again.! I thought we had escaped the continual scene:
forever falling down, and ya know what people actually celebrate it..?
and we'd thought we were safe here) a place where you had sympathetic support,
ITS NO GOOD..! that's what it isn't..' at last here was a chance at last to get time to
create our own poems, after being famous for all this time..' and we never had the chance
of creating our own stuff..' at least when we were killed off out there it was only by the
cretins..! now it has happened here, its a spiritual thing, sob.' boo-hoo, I saw the
shadow though..! it was a pale one..and we felt a vindictive force, and then our whole
new world shattered.' I wonder how would some like it? you have been being pushed about since
1643, whoever did it must be a cold hearted and lonely person..' I remember reading
reading some lines somewhere about just such a writer, hmm..' and now I'm a ghost and its
all down to someone..! Dumpty...that is who I am now..And down in the dumps BUT I AM MAD
MAD MAD and determined..! I can get revenge, I shall snoop in on any soup mail & nasty remarks
and so on; I can do that because I am a ghost now..! we had such a hard life early on at
the abbey farm there was ole aunt Patricia she was strict always minding our p's & q's
for us always saying we didn't do enough, then after Dad left us 'I was hard' but I never wanted
to be lost and nasty like she was, oh she was a stickler for 'rules' pashaaaw...! never
changed her life though did they...? hmmm, what to do next.? I don't know though if I
really should go down that road, it would be a contradiction of all I have tried to live, by
even through that nasty war, right up to now I suppose..' look! if I became like that I would
probably be going around with a horrible hot anger inside me, it would be like a big heavy
stone where my heart should be..! Oh you know what I mean.! and what would I do next.?
after I track them down.. after, I DESTROY THEM UTTERLY))) what then old egg? I
don't know what to do I feel as if I am being 'almost coerced ' here.. and I've heard
about the other place..' its hot they say, with a big black iron round thing..' I don't think
I would like it there, Oh if only Humpty and Dumpty could be here together again..'
She walked the labyrinth with her head bowed down
and thought of Christ with His thorny encrusted crown
Each rock was interlinked, attached to a circular maze
and as the sun poured, onto the rocky terrain of Falaise
a silent prayer was uttered, as she set the earth ablaze
She came from the cloistered Abbey on Rue de Calix
having spent so many years kissing her little crucifix
it was a new world here outside, in the soil of France
hundreds of stones polished with natural enhance
its was a time of encapsulated self, in stillborn dance
she awoke after the war, through Normandy's unrest
A mother's diary was tucked inside a wooden chest
filled with flourish scribble from an ancient faded nib
It was meant to help a young woman survive and imbibe
she acquired strength, this little girl named Marie Lepine
Inside a velvet pouch was an old stone from the beach
long before the bombardment, a child was out of reach
Polished with the tears of a mother who cried of fright
for a daughter who was to be left orphaned in the night
She kissed the stone that healed, through love and light.
July 10, 2021
Definition of Lepine in French : Thorn Bush
For Contest : Stones
Fate Of Mankind...
(this prognosticator ordains,
which if came to pass no brains)
necessary to impress any
goo goo dolls, nor swains!)
Cited in crosshairs of thermonuclear warfare
quite an about face from bursts of creativity,
yet omnipresent palpable threat everywhere
unlike sangfroid hermitage within Abbey air
habitués hosting religious peacemongers care
ring about spiritual well being, nsync by prayer
regular quotidian discipline dissociating scare
re: global apocalyptic genocidal holocaust sear
ring significant sinister malevolent electioneer
macabre mushroom clouds vitiating atmosphere
burnt offerings charred flora and fauna cohere
glommed together undifferentiated pulverized
conglomeration bespeaks devastated biosphere
survivors (if any) few and far between gallows
humor, sans mockery former Amazon billionaire
irrelevant wealth superfluous banked nightmare
*****sapiens like mummified zombies blinded by
light, eclipsed contaminated heavily sheltering sky
succor solemn deliverance bombed appallingly revere
inescapable damn earth bottled genii raiment austere
foretold prophecy regarding Doomsday clock spare
ring extra crispy char broiled ribs aplenty profiteer
awaiting her/him able to make a killing apprenticed
savvy entrepreneur opportunity, though no cashier
to pay, hence former Trumpeting strictly volunteer
job with bone fried benefits superior than Medicare
accompanied by death as fine companion buddy sincere
need not be grave concern, so minus annihilation and air
choking stench, viz total extinction moonscape sphere
flora obliterated only scorched landmarks thoroughfare,
humongous bajillion shades of gray cremated vaporware
vague hint former edifice Taj Mahal wanting consigliere
so opportunities galore to look as smoking hot fleshpot
overactive imagination helpful to conjure all in the
family Maude Lynn good times MASHup of yesteryear!
I was not born here but I’ll probably see out my years here.
Circumstances brought me here twenty or so years ago and I’m still here
It’s a river town, a fisherman’s town and a day tripper’s town.
It is still an important grower’s town, a garden of England town.
The ruins of the abbey are still visible, a reminder that religious hatred is not something new.
The ghosts of battle are still around; Simon De Montfort lost the battle of Evesham in August 1265, but won, because democracy thrives.
In the town there is a great choice of restaurants, Thai, English, Polish, Indian, and Italian a something for everyone’s taste town.
The many public houses in the town have the olde- worlde look with black and white Tudor architecture which gives it a historical look with great tasting ales.
Fetes and festivals throughout the year make it a something always going on town.
In the spring the apple blossom blooms and is beautiful to see and the many orchards surrounding the town attract visitors and cyclists to witness the beauty of it.
There are many churches here where worshippers can pray without fear of persecution or hatred from others, a peaceful town.
The many nationalities that live here, Italians, Polish, Indians Irish, English, and West Indians give it an international feel town.
Evesham is surrounded by typically English villages built of Cotswold stone and some with traditional thatched roofs, they look like a scene from from a Christmas card and when it snows they do.
The silvery waters of the Avon have parted the town but two bridges join it, one town, Evesham my town.
Written 7th August 2018.
Bath streets have sights on show
and houses sitting by the row
there’s not a place you cannot go
our crime level's always low
packed all year round with global tourists
city centre market stools fruit veg florists
nothing to be weary of or fear if I’m honest
wandering this wonderous this once Aqua Sulis
We’ve a sick history the Romans came to visit
you'll hear the local accent saying in it and is it
they built a mad bridge with actual shops on
for what to do a magazine called whats on
This the home of James Dyson Jane Austin
Bristol has a bridge and webbed off spring
this the town they crowned England’s first king
where the whole of Uranus was first seen lurking
On the walls "I was ere" written in graffiti
the underground water here's self heating
we've many a restaurant do you like eating
you can watch rugby from stadium seating
So in this place where Romans swim
the inaugural crowning of the King
inspired Dickens and Jane Austin
as well we improved your hoovering
from sending the first Royal Mail letter
The Post Office began right here
a mix of everything never better
in the River Avon we built a weir
we walked with Romans discovered a planet
saw bombings by Hitler but didn't panic
crowned the King of England at the Abbey
and too made a hoover without the baggy
because there's no where else this outstanding
the Nazi bombers but we're still standing
a one way system with no understanding
two thousand years now that's longstanding
Others say they come from a place all crummy
I honestly can’t relate
I’ve been elsewhere now and I'd say scummy
makes Bath look bloody great
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iU4_Pzq_gN0&list=PLrWXQQOwWgeAzG8lMiXPHNQeO_aFFxhLi&index=6&t=0s
COPY AND PASTE LINK FOR SONG (UNFINISHED RECORDING) is that a word unfinished lol
"Gothic 17"
provided they are
all story
and no reflection
I’m all for heroines
those coiled springs
minds like vampires
the ones
who
never sleep
sharp teeth
dripping words
that bleed
kissing lips dreaming
lips speaking, punctured
Northanger
North anger
abbey nuns clipped
speaking like demons
novitiates
slipping
on pearls
of kintsugi angst
the wisdom
refrains lifting
ripe mouths
blood red
enchantments
lift chins knowingly
chants kissing
tongues that touch
and speak
like babylon
drifting breezes
feeling something
forever mortal
moist and driven
the loose
long held like gems
in velvet gloves
the forever lost
bewitching, cast in spells
driven to distraction
Austin Kimberley
last day of school
17, '79
books in the bin
for burning
never once looking back
through the gates
collected by aged wisdom
the cat leaves,
doesn’t listen
never once listens
to grizzling whiskers
driving in pajamas
for the love
of it all
the cat is out
on the prowl
Tzuke purrs
racing
against time
still breathing
live wire
crackling
look but don't touch
the touched espouse
heaven can wait
just a little bit longer
heaven can wait
for those who
need you tonight
in the aether
the missing
watch on
by the missed
they are well worn
the lost
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Incessantly it trods and plods
perpetual the pendulum.
So long before the abbey bells
tolled and told of hours passing
before the ticks and tocks of clocks
or shadows crept with solstice gods
no one to worship at its start
that knew not of a perfect love.
The kindest heart left drowned in tears
and wrapped in gross deformity,
yet sheltered by cathedral walls
in disrepair as much as he.
'til Esmerelda's gentle hand,
he knew no love, just hate and scorn
and like the brand from tempered flame,
it's burning love that made him strong.
So like the edifice was he,
an ugly house that held God's love
and Quasimodo's lonely heart
who'd toll the bells that silence hears.
Then in the end he found her dead
and sacrificed his mortal life
to sleep with one who truly gave
the only love he'd ever known.
Interred, yet not forsaken souls,
whose bones became entangled vines
that turned to dust when first exposed,
then blew to heaven ~ found in time...