Long Acropolis Poems
Long Acropolis Poems. Below are the most popular long Acropolis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Acropolis poems by poem length and keyword.
It is slowly juxtaposition,
an oldies reith for an acoustic-ness-
and we make a mock,
drain the corner stores mox....
Engravings in luck and harmonious-
they take a tail for a toc,
malevolence out of the box,
on the streets-
in levy and over the acropolis,
like crumbly even and corny thermopolis-
how the havens in heaven must shine inside...
How many travels say they coincide?
Even in a sailing away against all storm's periphery,
dynamite at the dreamy renditions are trickery-
a pleasure of the presence is no outer measure of some other type of compression!
From ~ LARGE ~ to ~ small ~
K~Konstantin had travelled the world in unbeknown searching~g
A~Ariadne lost the plot and her thread a modern Sisyphus on the run~n
R~Raised in mathematical precision he questioned logic and Pi~i
M~Meandered streams of his mind with no delta or source without fill~l
A~Archimedes had drowned in the bathtub and produced wanton spill~l
C~Cartesian logic and Newton merely kindled heated debate full of lava~a
A~Acropolis Bergen Belsen Cairo Constantinople Calcutta a firm cul-de-sac~c
L~‘Leave cause and effect behind for a while on its quest for mens sana’~a
L~‘Life happens when you follow the flow squared circles teach no realm’~m
I ~In sight of the Ganges loin cloth in hand near naked emerges a star~r
N~Nirvana does not fall from the tree but intentions and actions feed Karma~a
G~‘Go resolve not hurt sentient beings and the world will be a little less sick’~k
27th April 2018
You can find me
Hidden in plain sight
Through the ebbs and flows of life
Through the cracks and veins
Of the Acropolis’ stones
You can run into me
In the most shadowy corners
Of suburban alleys
Skating fluidly on metal bars
Impervious to any scratches and scars
You can spot me
At the first bolt of sunrise
Skimming over the water
Until the twilight fall
You can come across me
During your rest at that cozy inn
At the end of the downhill road
Or
During your usual antics in that rowdy tavern
Lit by endless stained-glass lamps
Whilst drinking from a bulky glass of beer
Enjoying the company of your peers
Who am I?
Perhaps
The reflection of the light
The darkest shadow of the night
Wandering freely before your eyes
It is me, right?
The one you claim
To be hard to find
To identify
To pinpoint in space and time
Well
I am all over the world
I am the elephant in the room
Boldy and gracefully stepping outside
At all hours of the day and night
For I
Am the essence of life
Always hidden in plain sight
Where there is no doctor,
Take God your mentor.
But when religious gatherings remain closed,
Hope sits next to grace yet dumbfounded.
How Corona scatters!
FG rising to occasion so faster...
Where everyone is meant for indoor;
No manna from them-- to all downpour,
Yet they rough handle people for justice sake,
Claimed of protection but causing quake.
Like those protectors so genuine,
Leading technological progresses that ruin.
A country of daily economy.
How staying indoor for lives sake means autonomy!
The welfare is their first duty,
But no measure to stand its purity.
Like no one is ready to listen,
Though we used to have DEMO so glisten.
Where there is no justice,
Where disposal becomes tease,
Even Acropolis won't withstand the test of time,
When culture is caught unaware of modernism.
To pronounce ageless Amos prophet,
In deaf ears we pierced our advocate.
Where there is no health insurance,
Where there is no franchise,
Where there is no security,
Where health officers work without surety,
Earth is healing itself,
Why are we the virus elf?
Where there is no claim for right and wrong,
Where no one for himself is strong,
Lolz... where favoritism is based on merit,
Where there is no prejudice,
Where love live to outlast lust,
There ship shop sheep sharing sail with snakes.
Where courage is left alone with curse,
Where plans plant plunder in plenty,
There souls swim shedding tears sailing towards Hades,
And cage cast coast counting corona Cads.
Where virus vine van via version so velvety,
Raging rigorously in high rate; what cares should rouse?
Long In The Tooth Skeptic,...
Nonetheless Rooted With Gumption
Implicit virtue of humankind
figuratively locked horns with vice,
yet time and again this mortal celibate,
(not by choice) sexagenarian thrice
older father of deux priceless young
women chock full, sans esprit de corps
exude radiant ump pa vital to add spice
to an otherwise humdrum life,
begat by reproductive cells
smaller than a grain of rice,
yet whose exultant bloom, ah price
less bouquet far superior to any
treasure discovered within Nice
joyous reunion (torturing
mine psyche) finally won
after a hiatus, where four
Earth orbitz around sun
when last these myopic eyes
graced with amazing run
day view earlier,
this April 15th, 2019 pun
gent, (cuz visit with Shana Punim) one
thousand four hundred and sixty days,
that seemed more like a hun
dread bajillion quotidian tomorrows,
where continually fading poignant memories
from countless fleeting yesterday's done
got hermetically sealed bun
dolled into an irretrievable past smart
teary eyed floaters restored to this "sir"
after death do me part,
where memorable times at playgrounds
analogous to envisioning glory, heart
ache, cloistered blessedness
synonymous, asper once regal Acropolis,
and/or Parthenon, wherein
antiquity never did depart,
cuz during 21st century smattering,
viz artifacts retained preserved art!
Oh, Parthenon,*
Sublime aesthetic structure,
Embodiment of unparalleled elegance,
Incarnation of history, philosophy, and sciences,
Everlasting beacon of human civilization,
Glorification of architecture,
Pride of the Western world
You, the deathless temple of Athena,
Undeniably, it reflects the harmonious blending:
Of matter with the form,
Of man with God,
Of the temporal with the eternal.
In you, one may easily discern:
The drama of Sophocles,
The wisdom of Socrates,
The reason of Plato, and
The logic of Aristotle incorporated
Into
The ageless white marble, that the
Everlasting mountain of Pendelikon so
Generously has offered
And
The skilled hands of Phidias and Ictinus,
So expertly have shaped, into a
Never-ending hymn of worldly beauty,
Ascending to the heavens of perfection
As a thanksgiving to the wisdom of the divine and as
A never-dying monument to human creativity and
Understanding
Oh, Parthenon, before your perpetual magnificence,
Humbly I bow!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
13 JANUARY 2013
*One of the crowning monuments of the world and, unquestionably,
one of the finest is the Parthenon, the ancient temple of Athena, daughter of
Zeus, Goddess of wisdom.
Built between 447 and 438 B.C. during the Archonship of Pericles on the most
prominent spot of the Acropolis- a rocky hill of 158 meters above sea level-
Parthenon has dominated since then with its extraordinary architectural splendor, not only in the land of Attica and the rest of Greece but also, one may say, the mind and the soul of the entire world!
Out-built, humped, and beached, breached by moonlight,
nothing comes out of an old barn unfound.
Engine oil, the fungal fur of time warped wood.
Weather-eaten iron coated by rusted smears.
mouse hairs that rise upon old horse leather.
The green metallic wine on tin cans
a devolved acropolis of tractor parts put aside
for a thousand nights to seek and hide.
Gaskets strewn where tangles bloom.
Nothing lingers long without leaving its print
nailed to the air.
Possum pelts patch-work timbers into skin-deep quilts.
Tobacco smoke and sweat, the turpentine film of the
once varnished, the once cherished.
Treasures bolted to a deathless sleep, well rubbed
tackle and tools harnessed now to a tumbled-down dust,
a sun-frayed flap of light slipping in and out
as if time could be fixed and torn shadows mended.
Out-built, humped, and beached, breached by moonlight,
nothing comes out of an old barn unfound.
Engine oil, the fungal fur of time warped wood.
Weather-eaten iron coated by rusted smears.
mouse hairs that rise upon old horse leather.
The green metallic wine on tin cans
a devolved acropolis of tractor parts put aside
for a thousand nights to seek and hide.
Gaskets strewn where tangles bloom.
Nothing lingers long without leaving its print
nailed to the air.
Possum pelts patch-work timbers into skin-deep quilts.
Tobacco smoke and sweat, the turpentine film of the
once varnished, the once cherished.
Treasures bolted to a deathless sleep, well rubbed
tackle and tools harnessed now to a tumbled-down dust,
a sun-frayed flap of light slipping in and out
as if time could be fixed and torn shadows mended.
Demesne
at Pergamon
stirred an epiphany.
The Aqueducts, Acropolis,
propinquity, Temple Dionysus,
Trajan Temple- all so magnificent.
Persian, Greek, and Roman wonders;
some standing, most lying...
erstwhile kingdoms,
all gone.
I viewed
and imagined
robust efflorescence
that once filled this bucolic place.
Dalliance here, much too ephemeral.
Damp ruins- yellow soil stirred petrichor.
Wild grass, broken art; redolent
grave serendipity...
wars...harbinger...
of loss.
March 20, 2016
~1st Place~
Contest: A Day In A Town
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 04/14/2016
Required words in order of appearance:
demesne, epiphany, propinquity, erstwhile, efflorescence, bucolic, dalliance, ephemeral, petrichor, redolent, serendipity, harbinger
Some are broken teeth in a hollow tree,
some are humped and beached,
breached by moonlight.
Nothing comes out of an old barn
without smelling of oil,
the oil is for the fur that grows
on weather-beaten iron,
for the mouse hairs that rise
on horse leather;
for tin cans when chill winds slurp
their green metallic wine.
For the tractor and its parts,
a devolved acropolis
of gaskets and camshafts.
Nothing goes in
without leaving its print
nailed to the air.
Possum pelts patch-work timbers
into skin-deep quilts.
Tobacco smoke and sweat linger
to tinker,
as if time could be fixed -
and shadows mended.