Long Accession Poems
Long Accession Poems. Below are the most popular long Accession by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Accession poems by poem length and keyword.
4
there is no ending of words
is there anything that may be called
the end-word
let the words make questions
let the words give replies
let the words shout
let them battle among themselves
i can’t understand
why is there so much endeavour
to take me into that chaos
a plant of small white flower
is enough to make a garden itself
even-then
an assembly of
the rose the jasmine the tuberose is made
to increase the rule of the garden
after picking flowers from those plants
my wife puts them to the feet of the god
to worship him
she has a drinking-glass a plate
a hand-fan a throne
for her god
all are like tiny-toys
among them
the throne
is very important
till today
in many of our houses
there is a throne
but it is neither for accession of men
nor for making themselves king
i’ve already said
the throne is for our god
that means for our lying on
there may or may not be
even a broken cot
but for our family-god
to provide a throne
is a must
5
on that day
when once i had gone into the
myself-man
i saw
that the government and the opposition
both sides were gheraoing one another
in the same pace
they were reciprocally
quarrelling threatening rebuffing abusing
thus there was running
a fine piece of democracy there
it gave me enough pleasure
then i again came out
of that myself-man
in the outer-world
i saw
bypassing the stones and the hard
the roots of the trees
going deep down in the dark
in search of soft soil
and their branches are taking bent
towards the sun-light
6
of late
my intelligence seems somehow
to become slippery
there is so much pollution
in the myself-ism
it seems
even in collision with my shadow
some dragon-flies are killed every day
why do my eyes see so little
why do my tongue speaks so harsh words
to whose custody has gone
those rain-drops
those lemon-blossoms
there is the glittering of dew-drops
on the cob-web
the evening-worship
is sinking into the barking of dogs
as if the wings of the parrots
become van-rickshaw
as if the moon-light were
gradually retreating
in the enlightened city-life
She peruses the paper each morning, and the cartoons for laughs
Then she reads letters from the public
Most of these letters are responded to by her staff
She is briefed daily on matters of policy and politics
She meets privately with the prominent and those of fame
And gives out awards and medals
She is from a tradition of times medieval
If she knights you, Sir, precedes your name
When meeting her, women curtsy
While gentlemen bow to Her Majesty
She has reigned with grace
And is loved by people from many places
The daughter of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth
Her accession to the throne was in 1952
After her father's death
In 1953 she became Queen Elizabeth Ii
God wears the bling,
Its a constitution ting,
King Chazza going to fix it,
Give the corgis their biscuits,
Now he's got the crown
He can turn that frown upside down,
There's no way his Regal reign
Will get washed down the drain
The Patri, mono and hier archies
Rely too much on his malarkeyGod wears the bling,
Its a constitution ting,
King Chazza going to fix it,
Give the corgis their biscuits,
Now he's got the crown
He can turn that frown upside down,
There's no way his Regal reign
Will get washed down the drain
The Patri, mono and hier archies
Rely too much on his malarkey
To dazzle the curious populace
That might wonder if now its the time and place
To shed the over familiar embrace
Of a pale, stale, overripe monarchy
The media's wet dream fantasy
Filling front pages with hyper hysteria,
'Did Andrew deflower a teenager under the wisteria...?'
What will it take for everyone to see,
He's no emperor and, without clothes on
He's as naked as you and me....
—The Uncharted Demesne—
I garnered realms where every compass swore
Its final attestation unto land;
Each frontier vouchsafed passage to my name,
Each harbour loosed another weathered strand;
Yet all accession, faithfully bestowed,
Left one dominion still without abode.
At dusk a Curator veiled the patient globe.
Dust repossessed the empires one by one.
An atlas, opened where no witness looked,
Remembered coasts no mariner had won.
I closed the book. The silence remained spread.
At dawn a Customs Officer looked up.
"Your permanent abode?"
My passport reached my hand.
My tongue found none.
He stamped the page.
The barrier fulfilled its office.
Something else refused to be undone.
There stood beneath an unfrequented stair
A brass astrolabe forgetting north.
Without transition, agency, or cause,
Its needle entered silence and came forth
Bearing a latitude no chart could claim,
As though all bearings issued from one Name.
I touched my wrist.
The blood declined the hours.
It kept a deeper liturgy than breath.
Nativity resigned its bond with dust.
The Sepulchre diminished out of death.
No heaven widened.
Only this became:
The farthest universe had learnt my name
Because I had returned from whence it came.
“… The 1986 revolution in the Philippines … brought an end to the martial law imposed by Marcos’ regime in 1972, and saw the accession to power of the first woman president, Cory Aquino.”
Freedom songs of militant optimism
Reigned with victorious patriotism
Liberty shouting spirit of volunteerism
Vanquishing oppressed activism…
Music reverberating freedom’s prevalence
Street dancing breaking Martial Law’s silence
Commending People power revolution excellence
God I thank for His bestowed historical opulence…
Such marked grand national milestone in my College days
Having first woman president along political race
After freedom-driven coup d’etat of peaceful ways
The Lord I praise for His provident grace…
Best of all is my spiritual freedom exposure
Midst university culture shock pressure
Genuine peace*, divine liberation I gained with pleasure
Through Jesus Christ the Saviour Who my eternity does assure.
*Romans 5:1 Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.
March 12, 2020
1st place, "DANCE WITH ME" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues; judged on 4/7/2020.
Beckoning forward, then muting purpose with placid expression;
Courting favor, but scorning gratuity with nobler accession.
Reconnoitering all, yet countenancing none in stolid derision;
Regaling commoners, but transcending all menial patronization.
Subtle smile endears, but spurns all gratification;
Distant stare, onerous repression or dark depression?
All encompassing view, mistrusting miser or prating courtesan;
Stoic posture, exalted position or callous condition?
Frugal appearance, an inner recession or outward confession;
Folded arms, trite convention or cultivated abstention?
Enshrouded by cumbersome shadows or serene accommodation;
Transfixed, eternal matron; or transparent, antiquated apparition?
DATE: November 1, 2010
Contest: Why oh Why
Sponsored by Constance~ A rambling poet
by: Stephen Parker
Form:
That skin-and-bone-like,
Chocolate-colored veteran,
Fragile personality accession;
Ascends tallest of palms,
Committed to toddy-tap,
As it’s his hereditary profession...!
Driving upward and down,
Like a smart willing monkey,
He reaches the highest of height;
Sitting over the petite petioles,
As though it's a comfort car-seat,
Sets all spiders - meshes aright...!
Clears the now-soiled toddy-pots,
Crops the prolific flower-stumps,
Rectifies, like a surgeon, all clots;
Goes around the fronds gliding,
As though skiing on sky,
Support of nothing but angle-knots...!
Of all measures that attracts me,
Is his hurdling noble gallantly,
From one tree to another,
By way of stem-bridges;
There-from, like a rat,
Or as a missionary-squirrel,
On hard earth he reaches,
As though in water, he ditches...!
17 January 2022
And saw i the dead,
Toss around as they fled.
By levitation did they arose,
To before the throne before the day doze.
Saw i them old and young,
Fat,thin and some like throng.
Summoned was they by the law of levitation,
To present their deeds for accession.
Then in beguiled time flipp'd like the cover of a book,
Saw i variant species of book.
Before one whose name is not known;
One that excellent shone within his throne.
And then did temprount swapped my gaze,
And wroth it to a book of books face.
By mind twas 'Book of Life',
But by eye the spirit lent a strife.
The book and it's owner did their path,
And bid farewell to stainers to the lake part.
Then were the preachers held in his sanctuary;
Now it's known that only the dead will hence to judgement factory.
C.2017
An accession occurs when a new monarch succeeds to the throne.
~The Poet~
A grand celebration held in nature.
The new monarch is royally ordained.
Seasons dictated by legislature,
Status of Autumn once again retained.
Autumn now crowned, moves to the royal throne.
As seasons pay homage to the new Queen.
Clad in crimson and gold, hues of her own.
With natures royal jewels, to be seen.
Summer takes leave and Fall is in control.
Resplendent in glorious gold jewels.
Her goal : Ease the heat with her heart and soul,
Providing a soft breeze that calms and cools.
Now emerald leaves become red and gold.
Fall's beauty, magnificent to behold.
A waking lucidity has me now,
clasped in a permanent, fruitless embrace,
an odd twitching furrow controls my brow,
painless tear maps red bristled face.
My heart has stopped my feelings wandered,
I expect not aberration,
what I had I begrudgingly squandered,
anticipation, accession, my constellation.
It is a fearful thing to be ready to leave,
without sickness, sadness or reason,
but no alarm sings and none will grieve,
If I call it a day midseason.
Family and friends, from sickness or age,
have left me behind and I miss them,
Sensing the end, slowly turning the page,
to find cardboard and sleeve where was wisdom.
No God awaits, no heavenly gates,
no Satan, Mohammed or Scyth,
I did nothing great, followed no bait,
I'm belated, and shattered and rife.
A wonderful thing like a theory of string,
beckons its curled bony phalanx,
one last drink whilst I run out of ink,
as I prepare to address this imbalance.