Long Accrues Poems
Long Accrues Poems. Below are the most popular long Accrues by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Accrues poems by poem length and keyword.
Be there the bight of a November drain
turned off tattered ruffles blotted feign
a ledged I removed and tender earlobes
waif yonder spectral possession probes
cracked nut overture eighteenth twelve
emptied shells retiring indicative delve
drain feign earlobes probes twelve delve
the hour,
Penchant dragged scrape innard depth
souring blindly binds ruse lids breadth
spar sun astir, causation its wandering
scar bites of frost attend a clouded ring
constant errs my inner chambers abide
pivotal piques tricked darkening inside
depth breadth spar scar abide inside
the hour,
A vast plague of vulture flights accrues
a lowly sill contempt its stay construes
awake dreamt feverishly reposed body
quake aloof save I some valued nobody
unsorted escort disembodied but feats
wonder maroon beheld tethering beats
accrues construes awake quake feats beats
the hour,
Therefore I'd wallowed jousting to free
of peals of laughter trifle trailing spree
feeble villagers thoughtless each share
of riddled backside amidst tabled stare
and counters gossip whispers consume
be their claim graphic God they assume
free spree share stare consume assume
the hour,
Remains of a last supper disrobed hang
amidst bunker migrating seasons pang
yond trained reflect stories trail facials
a negging crowded calls milds a rituals
saved I a memoir cloistered singularity
paved upon silken weaves a familiarity
hang pang facials rituals saved paved
the hour,
Bewitched canons riddled yon the altar
stacking of hymnals liberates Gibraltar
of liquefied gift cascading gratification
love stain pigments of my imagination
hues meld a silencing orchestrate suite
enhance the loyal thunder ne'er retreat
altar Gibraltar of love suite retreat
the hour.
Who is Bigfoot’s Great-grand Daddy?
Whether living in a city or on the mountain side,
People from the world around astound us with their views.
He’s nine-feet tall, a hairy thing, uprightly he flees astride.
Only tracks are left behind and the mystery accrues.
They say that Big Foot does exist and for eons has survived.
A humanoid of greatest size a hairy manlike beast.
Is he really all they say, or are the stories contrived?
And if he lives, tell me, are our imaginations fleeced?
(Genesis 27 … paraphrased…)
Jacob goes to get two goats and steal his father’s blessing.
Their mom prepared a feast of goat, delicious, to Isaac’s taste.
Then, tied goatskin to Jacob’s neck and hands, realizing.
Jacob dressed in Esau’s clothes calmly goes to his father with haste.
Meanwhile, Esau, far away was hunting for venison as asked.
Traipsing around through the scrubby woods tracking.
Moving quickly with his great might to fulfill his father’s task.
A man with hair like that of a goat, his birthright was loosing.
Jacob smelled like Esau and the fields, but his voice…
Isaac questioned, so he felt Jacob’s goatskin clad hands.
Satisfied by the goatskin disguise, destiny made its choice.
Jacob received a blessing of wealth and all of his father’s lands.
When Esau returned with the venison feast, deceit was revealed.
But it was too late his birthright was gone; he was very mad.
“Give me a blessing, father please.” He begged as he kneeled.
You shall live on the fat of the earth…unyoked…his father said.
I wonder –
Is Bigfoot, like Esau, a hunter-gatherer with hands as hairy as a goat?
Does he live independently, a type of man, a scary giant beast?
Wandering upon earth, too and fro, with life barely afloat.
Brothers separated by that ancient deceit filled feast.
Is Bigfoot the hunter-gatherer living on the fat of the land?
Has he since the day of Rachael’s scam lived secluded and beastly?
Have generation upon generation descended that ancient hunting man?
Could Isaac in the Bible be Big Foot’s ancient Great-grand Daddy?
Penuriousness long did acquaint
yours truly, who feels loath
to lodge complaint
regarding series of unfortunate events
(Lemony Snicket be damned)
imposed monetary constraint,
now aghast with horror
(ain't no trick),
I unwittingly did faint,
only negative indebted interest accrues,
now if ever mister money bags I haint,
no gainsay purposelessness
to air principal plaint,
yet to fulfill personal daily quota
regarding poem writing
subliminally eases restraint
prompting good samaritan
deeds subsequent anointed saint
homelessness looms around
the corner crimping psyche
argh mental health depressed
courtesy poverty doth taint.
Seriously folks (especially Bugs Bunny),
I best coon sitter
turning over new leaf versus "fake"
gilded pretense success and posthumous
famous author doth leave me awake
nsync courtesy restless leg syndrome
shakes bed (lamb - spouse) like earthquake,
whereby thwack with her elbow
finds broken rib cage, when thus spake
Zarathustra bidding me to branch off
and leave writing... say kickstart
panhandling as faux grubstake
with global warming...
formerly deeply buried
untold bajillion dollars free,
for taking, thus best not forsake
golden, silver, bronze... opportunity
analogously swimming within monied lake,
or accumulate stash tall as Taj Mahal
and/or Trump Tower livingsocial footloose
and fancy free gourmandizing
till I resemble Mar-a-lago sized beefcake
recklessly splurging penny wise
and pound foolish
proudly arrogantly boasting
what cutthroat tactics can accomplish,
hmm... perhaps contemplating
on whim purchasing Greenland
for a song (infringing,
extracting, bilking... copyrights) swish
goes signature scribble to abolish
purposeless law meant as hedge
to sideline ruthless machiavellian brash
art of the deal done courtesy genius
eh... so what if the global
financial market doth crash, viz fillet of fish?
I want a lived-in face—
a body that curves and stretches,
each line a crease carved by laughter,
grief, survival.
I love life etched into skin.
We are the narrators of our days,
our bodies the pages,
our faces the margins,
annotated by time.
We are art—
life’s sculptures—
one arm or two,
too thin, too wide.
What old lies we’ve swallowed
about beauty’s mould.
Perfection?
That polished cage—
stitched with labels.
I wore the names—
Chanel, Louis Vuitton—
as if they could spell beauty
on a tag around my wrist.
I spent myself chasing flawless,
burning joy like cash,
saving nothing for self-love.
I was lost chasing the dream—
of thigh gaps sold as grace,
quiet hunger wrapped in silk,
airbrushed lies reflected back
in mirror-glass approval.
And in all that gloss,
I missed the glow
of my own skin,
weathered, soft,
and holy in its truth.
They told me I was richest when untouched,
when time hadn’t left its mark—
but youth is cheap.
Real beauty accrues.
Each scar, each stretch,
a kind of interest paid in grace.
I long for truth.
Gray hair, wrinkled hands,
a tooth gone missing like a childhood friend.
My curves have curves,
but my heart is open,
always has been.
My mouth will sing
even if a note is off.
Even if pieces are missing—
it matters not.
Confidence? Still a struggle.
But intelligence…
oh, that disarms me every time.
A woman or man who can think—
who listens with their eyes,
and speaks with care—
now that’s divine.
Beauty or the beast—
it matters not at all.
Each one a masterpiece,
every rise and fall.
Bird Of Paradise
Where o' where does bird of paradise hide its nest
perhaps deep in a very old and well worn shoe,
one scuffed up, well traveled and not its very best
bearing those haunting scars that life itself accrues,
or within a busy gnat's earliest morn drink
as it gulps dew from a bright lazy buttercup,
wondering what not to wear and how not to think
only knowing life demands it this liquid sup.
Could be invisible realm within mankind's touch
much as waves of saltwater beach-flung by the sea
soakings feet, sands and breaking stubborn rocks so much
as to bring majestic pleasures likes as are we,
else dreamscape, its fruited orchards ripe and divine
magnificent desserts crying out just to be
Nature's colorful bounty, its gifts very fine
born of earth, hanging from weighted limbs of a tree.
Nay, such fancy are mere wisps of wind in man's heart
bird of paradise its wings all about us spreads,
it lives in eternity and has from man's start
came to us in sweet dreams as we sleep in our beds
Yet we can not rule out Nature having one too
for we must admit its still well hidden treasures
we should learn to appreciate more than we do
beauty of life, Love's depths, its joys beyond measure.
Bird of Paradise, this night may I fly with you
through dawn's expanse, its whispering twilight gleamings,
to crystal clear gardens of romantic fervor
and find her, my dream princess to live forever.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-17-2020
Rhyme, ( Within Man's Soul, Exists A Beauty Beyond Measure )
From Wisdom Born, Decades Fighting Fate's Cursed Hand
In youth, a young lad roars for much needed applause
in old age, wisely remains silent with just cause,
seeing the end near, some shed bitterest of tears
thinking such splashing supplications, angels hear;
whereas this old, callous world neither sees nor cares
what sorrow one displays or how much heart one shares
for savage the measure world uses to reward
dying lover or a talented, humble bard.
On pages offering up their softest virgin whites
are invisible castles beyond mortal sights,
each one begging for its wailing walls to withstand
massive cannon shots or a victor's crushing hand!
Poets, be they young or old, should a full pen hold true
to life, as spilling of ink- its treasures accrues!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-01-2020
Sonnet, ( Why All We Think We See, May Be An Illusion )
( So Spoke The Raven, After Master Poe Demanded Silence )
Syllables Per Line:0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables::168
Total # Words:::::120
Note:
Muse demanded I write this second poem on this first day
and it be dark. Raven agreed and Master Poe abstained.
Paper sang a blackened tune and pen danced a raging jig
as evil clouds rumbled while gathering in the far west
echoes drifted through broken window, and Hades jingled
a billion unbreakable chains. A older and wiser poet yielded
to avoid the usual headaches and aching pains!
Rhapsody of rainbow
morphs into morose mélange
of shredded exuberance,
bleeding colors
bleached from collapsed cloud
of twilight zone
embroidered by sunset spectrum,
profoundly permeate
as ingrained blemish
the lilac lattice
of the broken heart,
the sordid shades of blue
paint the linen of love,
f r a y e d....
Requiem of longing roses
resonates tragic melody
in melancholic medley,
wilting petals pine
for forlorn feelings,
the dripping tear drops
of mourning dew
on failing floral luster
desiccate in somber sunshine
of the deserted mind,
fading flowers make
weathered wreath
for decedent passion,
o b s c u r e....
Convergent cacophony
accrues relentless
in the entropic cauldron
of disharmonic music,
bemused chaotic symphony
dismantles incoherent
on discordant waves of refrain,
captured in
strained smiles,
sneering the inane scenario
of lonely life,
where sanguine songs turn
into nonsensical noise,
echoed by reflective soul,
a r c a n e....
Leitmotif of life
seen skeptically
through indolent cynic lens
of distorted essence,
magnifies manifold
into crooked contortion
of convoluted conscience,
a b e r r a n t....
We're Here, And You're Not! (The Nazi Dream)
No man is born perfect (at least I'm that smart),
Though I'd never exclude you, tone deafness' black art,
It's 'oil cast on the water!' Is poetry's grooving
Not part of your plan? May God bless its improving!
Let me pray that I'm wrong - does humility rot?
Does our path to the future mean dead Camelot?
The dream I give credence, to celebrate rhyme,
Though now fashion's 'blank verse,' most ___ verse not worth time
Or the ink it consumes! I'll let history judge,
Mine's more musical trace! Let me not be a drudge,
Spontaneity, flow, how can they be a sin?
But what discipline tempers my rhymes - I count win!
I'm past seventy-six, and could put life on 'cruise,'
The best wine and posh food, as more money accrues,
Though investments may float long past day that I die,
The world's politics kill me! I hear the world cry
For a voice that might comfort where fear reigns insane,
More harmonious whispers perhaps ease its pain?
We're world's 'Jews' forced to shower in Nazi's camp's gas,
Who now choke on the bile from demented fool's ass,
Let us not go in peace or give up with no fight,
Still denounce the demonic, the death of all light,
That some rich would impose on the weaker on earth.
Should all dinosaurs die? Grant more humble rebirth!
Long Tooth
May 3rd of 2019
“Hush the blush oh hermit, why needless rush ~
Shift from head to heart, let love and light gush”
- quote by poet
How may ultimate truth to us be known
Heart intuits truth transcends lower mind
We’re living light, this form is but soul’s clone
Bemused by desires, to God’s light we’re blind
Thus cravings of ego must be declined
Let us oh worthy monk, begin anew
Choosing love over lust, become refined
All concepts we held thus far, are untrue
We each must walk the pathless path alone
Awareness self-aware, in peace reclined
In tranquil silence, our sins we atone
Leaving all imagined knowing behind
Declutching soul from wayward ego’s bind
That childlike heart pure, like fresh morning dew
Transforms as living light, loving and kind
All concepts we held thus far, are untrue
As vaporised Self comes into its own
Day and night, with bliss magnetism entwined
We delight at our heart lotus full grown
Furrows of love and light on its stem splined
Effusing scents that cannot be defined
Coo of God’s love that continues to woo
Grace that accrues when we’re divine aligned
All concepts we held thus far, are untrue
Playing our life role on earth as assigned
With each breath reborn, we make our debut
We see God within heart, firmly enshrined
All concepts we held thus far, are untrue
I'm ecumenical...
Every Religons Identical...
Humans using lies to create principles...
And inflict cynical acts...
Like having a preclinical past...
These individuals mask....
The syntripical math...
Changing compounds...
Near swomp Grounds....
You stomp down...
And ask for Freedom....
In this Cancer Region...
This is the Actor Legion...
Where even the Pastor's Bleedin...
The Children of society...
When The hill ends will you Climb With me...
To a place like Eden...
Beyond your Fake white dreamin...
I spend Nites screamin...
My self to sleep...
While Trying To help the Sheep...
Cross The Gate...
I get Lost in Faith...
So i stop and Wait...
For God; He's Late...
I've been Stuck in Hell....
Blind and Touchin Braille.....
Trying to Find My way Back to Earth....
I have to Work...
As a Slave to Ghoasts...
I can Brake the code...
And Save the Homes...
Before natural Disaters.....
Because I'm a Casual Master...
Glairing In the Shadows...
While Stairing @ The Battles...
Humans engage in...
Confused With the Games end....
We created Religon...
As Mission...
To Fit in....
The Universe....
And use this Worth...
To accrues What hurts....