Long Adam Poems
Long Adam Poems. Below are the most popular long Adam by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adam poems by poem length and keyword.
It can even be misconstrued as ... A.I.
Mayhaps 'Creation', hm ... read it again.
I know Adam was chosen to lead off in that direction and all those after him--and nobody said stop, not even after the planet Mars, a name attributed a deity.
Jerusalem grant stemmed
Bethlehem be condemned
What kind of God He is
having no teachers His
hm?
The shores of Galilee
sea Peter faith fell he
Galilee be Dead Sea
Peter sunk not to be
A Calvinist earn claim
Horeb like Sinai same
Divergence flanks said he
East West faces they'd be
Eden's Garden not His
we post-label purpose
God name no Earth places
Termed from human races
Vera Pavlova English Translations of Russian Poems
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter? a beast.
Spring? a bud.
Summer? a bug.
Autumn? a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translation, Russia, epigram, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, mother, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
I stand where silence is thicker than bread.
He,
not a man anymore,
but a bruise walking upright,
a shadow that still pays rent to the body.
Loneliness is not beside him.
It is the room itself,
the ceiling sweating plaster,
the window coughing dust.
It pushes through his skin
like cold water in a cracked bucket.
His heart still taps,
like a drunk knocking on the wrong door.
Each beat a protest,
yet the protest already sounds guilty.
To breathe is to sit in court,
to be tried by the wallpaper,
by the squeak of the chair,
by the dripping tap that counts the years.
Time here sharpens into nonsense:
a drip becomes an entire calendar,
a sigh shakes the floorboards.
Even the smallest rustle,
the mouse behind the wall,
falls upward into God’s deaf ear.
And still he remains:
a candle without fire,
burning invisibly,
like the taste of ash in your mouth
after a funeral feast.
I cannot step aside.
His abyss has been nailed into my ribs.
I carry the shame of impotence:
not for sins,
but for what cannot be done,
for the way care turns into theater,
a hand waving at shadows.
The walls pretend to hold him,
but walls are polite liars.
It is absence that chews him,
absence, slow, official,
with a face like an empty chair at the table.
I know this story.
It’s older than stories.
Adam shivering in the weeds
outside the garden fence.
Job scratching sores in the dirt
while the sky locks its jaw.
All exiles line up here,
every silence rehearses its lines in his throat.
So I do the only trick left to the living:
I stay.
Presence,
as a badly tuned prayer.
Presence,
as rebellion without slogans.
Witness,
as the last coin we have to spend.
For what remains
when hope folds its tent,
when meaning slinks off into the dark,
when words smash their heads
against the stone of despair?
Only this:
to squat beside the abyss,
knees stiff, hands useless,
to whisper without sound,
that even here,
where loneliness is stitched into the fabric of being,
life still stutters,
not entirely alone.
In a higher plane
Against the grain
Along a concrete path.
In search of solace
from those among us
A devastating earthly wrath
Seeking pleas in faces
Running earthly races
Too fast to offer time
Giving chase
Looking for grace
From those in the mundane and grime
I hear a voice say
“Come now, leave the fray.”
“I bear what holds you true.”
His voice, that of verse
Of choir, of song traverse
As if coming from the pews
I see the Man
Holding in his hands
He summons me my gift
A musical note
For me to dote
My life dream now adrift
My note strung together
In a song that’s now forever
Orchestrates still in my heart
Serenades in my veins
Crescendoes my plains
A distinct timbre, no man can part
I hold my note and know
What came with no ribbon, no bow
Came from He above
If im your Adam, you my Eve
We are when three conceive
God, faith and love
The world had taken everything
and left the man as broke.
When anger rose up in his gut
and this is what he spoke:
I've given my life for everyone
who only sought to take.
And now that I have no more luck
it's time that I forsake.
He tore off all his clothes to say:
"I'm naked in the street".
While others stopped and stared at him.
Their shock to be his treat.
He stood there just as Adam did
and waited for his sake.
The people thinking he was mad
and called the cops to take.
He didn't have to wait for long.
His plan was working well.
The ride to come as quickly
as this taxi was to Hell.
They wrapped him in a blanket first
and put him in the car.
These chauffers posh to say the least
were armed and trained to spar.
The drive was one of comfort
for his mercy being there.
And the blanket now his clothing
warmed his heart were he to care.
When soon the ride had ended
that they'd finally reached his home.
A mansion having 13 floors.
It's windows lined in chrome.
The orderlies had come to greet him.
These servants to prestige.
Him wondering if they'd come to realize
how they played into his seige.
With escorts he'd travail the halls.
Their pathways feeling spacious.
Soon coming to the elevators;
the doorman being gracious.
They rose up to the Penthouse suite.
It's atrium well lit.
Where off they whisked him to a room
with pajamas made to fit.
When dressed they moved him to another.
six doctors there attending.
Assessing him for moving on
to one nurse for an ending.
The nurse to give him their decision
injected him with health.
All free for being there as their guest
despite his lack of wealth.
They offered him a bed to sleep
with fresh sheets and some drapes.
And told him he could get some food
for just a little traipes.
The cafeteria there to serve,
he always got a meal.
At night he even got a snack
as justice got more real.
Soon workers offered him their service
and got him an apartment.
The government sending him his cheque
each month from their department.
Right back to where he started off;
he smiled at what they'd done.
but felt the only difference being
too high to just have won.
AND GOD GAVE HIM A WOMAN
When God first made the man,
He said,"What have I done?
He just sits there alone,
He's not having much fun.
I want all of My creatures,
To enjoy their life.
I know what I'll do,
I'll create him a wife."
So God set to work,
And He put him to sleep,
And as he slumbered,
The Lord dug down deep;
From his heart at the center,
He took the first part,
"She'll be filled with emotion,
She willl be his heart;
The thing in this world,
That he loves the most,
He'll love her and keep her,
In her will he boast."
From under his arm,
He next took a rib,
From a place in his side,
Near the lungs where it hid,
Protected from harm,
And the wind and the rain,
"He'll lean on her,
Should he come up lame;
For she is his helpmate,
Companion for him,
When he's tired or sad,
She'll comfort him."
When Adam awoke,
And saw her at his side,
He smiled as God told him,
"Here is your bride."
"She's the prettiest thing,
That I`ve ever seen,
But it`s funny you know,
Of a sudden it seems,
I can no longer stand,
So I better sit down,
She can get what I need,
It`s good she`s around.`
Judy Ball
(And that`s the way it`s been ever since)
(A lone voice whispers)
In the deepest of my wildest lucid dreams, she always comes my way. And as the waking world dims, her shadow appears like a familiar shade. Slowly walking in.
Like a haunting love song, my soul's only angel over my guarded bed. I can't erase.
Opening a secret portal above where I lie to another realm where we can play. Telling me to take her hand, so we can slip away through its black gates.
No more worn or tired but too brave to consiouness retire.
We always fly as two, entwined into the grey smoke and translucent blue. And as always, while we fly, she always whispers, **"Do you love me as much as I love you?"**
And I always answer like the wild chancer I am.
**"As much as Adam loved Eve, for in me do believe as we fly. The king and You, his queen, into the dark rift of The Great In-Between.**
**As watching angels sing as we are seen.**
**Oh rejoice! They have returned. The two once more reunited until dawn's new light.**
**The white feather and the flame. Praise be their names.**
**Oh, rejoice. Praise be they return tomorrow night.**
**Praise be. Oh, rejoice."**
And so we fly into the smoky halls of the Greatest of Games. Spiritual lovers forever entwined until the day we die.
The White Feather and the Flame.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
I brushed water colors with thoughts of Adam's Eve
and the fallen one who was disguised to deceive
this naked nymph, who strikes a nubile pose
offering a ripened apple and a crimson rose
Both face and body, painted innocently pure
her femininity was unquestionably demure
but with forbidden fruit bitten, it was all lost
From Eden's paradise she and Adam were tossed.
Uprooted as a tree, she forfeited divine favor
The evil reptile's lie succeeded to enslave her
Woe to the male offspring she was created to bear
One killed by the hand of the other, his plight forswear
To them, closed forever was the garden's gate
The finality of death then became mankind's fate
A wrong path was chosen when she'd been warned
gave way to mortality that all of us have mourned
The price of a lie follows with a debt to truth,
Twice the size
to honor what was meant
And whom it went through;
In the light of my eye,
borrowed from my mind,
A memory of a person
Has been said
To have consumed,
Is it an apple missing
Or that of Adam and Eve's
Garden now entombed
I went ahead and stole
From those famed
Glimpses of fate
And I let it be with my burning grips
to cause and create
an irreparable split
to eden's trace,
from that birth bed of sin
in between and coming away
with the embers flying off those insufferable wretched gardens
known for their following,
flowing and fatherless flames.
Maybe I'll try to find a prayer for some rain.
Now with that mentioned price of the lie,
If without a target but myself for it to fruit
Is what I meant
what will come
In an attempt to cry
Albeit,
A cry for the moon?
Is it still a lie
If it's language that fails
and a body's prayer
falls victim to the weakness
of its wounds
Unable
Yet willing
Like a mouth sewn and screwed
wanting to shout
needing to scream
But it becomes the doubt
It becomes the metal and strings
They obey;
Threads forming a rule
And yet without a crown
They find it king
As if there were
Anything else to choose.
While subjected
To this liability
we breathe
to assume
I'll try to listen for a voice
with the right words to say,
Even if they're perfect,
I believe
Anything I will hear,
It's here where they're said only but
a moment too late
Maybe this is how life
Collects what its due
Maybe because even
If not myself,
Something out there
Truly understood
That to pay the price,
You owe it to yourself
Even if it means
there will come a mountain
For you to move
~By His Power~
(Sexain)
Sin is sin despite topic or size in God's eyes
God tells us of this in his Holy Book you see
There's no such thing as small or big sin
God hates sin but no sinners or anything akin
He created the world perfect a long time ago
It was paradise, till Adam and Eve fell, you know.
It was great till Satan tempted them and both fell
Right after that happened nothing went for them well
Satan told them a big lie and both fell for it
Disobedience against God greatest mistake made every bit.
That was the day that sin entered this world first time
We're product of sin, but with Jesus we can clean all the grime.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
October.26.2015