Long Ageless Poems
Long Ageless Poems. Below are the most popular long Ageless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ageless poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Forever’ drops through the cracks of time.
The everlasting is a way of saying never-lasting.
We had to change its meaning
for the sake of the children
for those who need nursery rhymes,
and the nursery rhymes are too deep
for the children to comprehend.
The ‘children’ are ancient, ageless,
they live on
in the collective unconsciousness.
So we make-up words that mean
the opposite of their true meaning.
'Love' for instance,
love does not mean love something
or anything. Love objectified
outside of you is a mirage.
If you add forever to the word ‘love’
you conflate an idea with a reality.
When you have something to give,
then you can give.
Without this self-loving
you have nothing to offer.
You can only truly love yourself.
Without this understanding
love becomes for-never.
Some say words are powerful
yes and no –
for unless you know the root of a word
you will not know the truth of a word.
Before my anchored Cinderella hem
Her herbaceous gift on this solemn altar
Let a default oath resumes
Our erotic sentence and union
Do not chuckle on, or any more of ********
Only let the seed sown yesterday die
And pray not for its harvest
Before the sun heralds it to the moon
Be stiff, be still, be mute
And only be deaf to our love song.
If on a joyful moment dreams tells you of this fella,
Make an ablution and purge it out
Let its happy moment be like the cemetery
Never again ponder on it
Kill the stump that may surface it
Silence the voice that may echo it.
O wondrous Cinderella, the princes hood epitome
How “this” charming gift wanders off my soul
How this goddess star gloomy unadmired
O succulent testimony of your homely nature
Sunk in the mire by this statement acts
Fondling and selling the ageless reward
Before the street and else before the careless sight.
Good bye
Time journeyed through the seasons sublime
Brokered days the trellis of life did climb
Tendered hours but grainy shards without rhyme
Token minutes spindled through the hour glass of time
Each tenuous second garnering only a passing stime
Bartered moments the continuum of existence did wantonly prime
Availing sky's porous rotunda filtered each, ageless ream through spectrum so fine
The hoary sun spilled it's vision into each, vacuous line
Gilded moon, celestial mariner did shadowy expanse twine
Bended stars, twinkling sprites from stealthy perch did antediluvian streams re-align
Primeval planets in their sanctioned orbits perpetuity did assign
Within the realm of faith, a tempest swirls,
Doubt's cold mist blurs the line of pearls,
Guidance sought by souls astray,
As twisting complexity leads them faraway.
Graceful brushstrokes paint the scene,
Deep thought calls, the essence gleaned,
To roots of blurred doctrine bound,
A labyrinth of truths, a seeker's profound.
Arrogance rises, a vulture in the sky,
Its shadow casts humility, a withering sigh,
As darkness veils the gentle dove,
And night eclipses all the love.
Sin's visage, a ghastly pair,
Malice and jealousy, a fearsome snare,
Within the hearts of those once pure,
Now tainted, their faith obscured.
Love, a fading casualty, undone,
Amidst the fray of creeds outspun,
Divided by tears of doctrine's blade,
Unity, now a desperate crusade.
The aged, youth, and priests align,
United in their quest divine,
Seeking wisdom's ageless song,
A fortress built, to right the wrong.
With brushstrokes of the poet's art,
We mend the seams of love's fragile chart,
Faith and hope, once tightly bound,
To greet the morn, with trust, profound.
Life,
I put the suit on long ago
been wearing it ever since
it came with a coat and snappy vest
and two pair of shiny pants.
The pockets I filled with important things
crickets, frogs, and ants
all of them on the list that read
do’s and don’ts and can’ts.
The suit of life, it changed with me
into a statement of the times
tattered jeans and tie-dyed shirts
adorning screaming mimes.
Shifted gently through love’s tears
it’s births and deaths and sorrows
tailored itself to changing needs
as todays became tomorrows
Fashion may affect the tone
yet the fabric of the cloth retains
the honor of the tailor’s hand
the piety of living’s stains.
The jacket hangs, as jackets must
over pants with ageless sheen
the pockets bulge with life’s reward
the visions of its dream.
I put the suit on long ago
and wore it till it fit
now hold it ever precious – dear
I’ve grown quite fond of it.
2/8/2015
submitted to – What Life Means To Me – Poetry contest
sponsor – Jerry T Curtis
Denizen of abyssal labyrinth,
legendary ancient Wyrm seeks succour
within prodigious sepulchral cavern:
her domicile for an ageless lifetime.
Ethereal shafts cascade through ceiling's
stochastic rifts, piercing tenebrous tomb;
vicious viscous scarlet smears juxtapose
against shimmering iridescent scales.
Aeons past, Faustian pact formed with Man:
vow of harmonious co-existence
exchanged for fulgurant falchion forged in
the heart of dragonflame's conflagration.
Sacred covenant shattered this night by
myriad ironclad interlopers;
ruination's harbinger was strident
warrior wielding token of treaty.
Last vestiges of cacophonous roar
dissipate into the Stygian depths;
acrid stench of brimstone clogs the air as
remnants of vitriolic pyres linger.
Twin gargantuan fibrous wings contract
behind enormous muscular torso;
fulgurating talons sluggishly sheaved
as serpentine tail shudders and falls limp.
Priceless metals and prismatic gemstones
intersperse with charred and twisted corpses;
amongst detritus of mortal conflict,
majestic titan finally crumples.
Massive lurid yellow orbs exhibit
an unfathomable intelligence;
succumbing to the inevitable,
moribund colossus bows forlorn head.
Lifemate butchered by zealous paladin;
remains of final clutch just motes on breeze.
Burden borne by solitary relict:
regal behemoth was last of her kind...
----------------------------------------
(C) John C Michaels, 25th April 2017
Free verse, no meter, no rhymes - as per contest rules.
10 syllables on every line (howmanysyllables.com)
For the contest entitled "A Mythical Creature" sponsored by Julia Ward.
Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
And here you are
on the end of a smile
that doesn't seem to fit
your face, caught
in the startle of a flash,
still and ageless
after all these years.
I wonder what thoughts
were in your mind
when the shutter clicked
to hold you there,
a wafer of who you were
back then, set free of time
to surface here, unchanged.
I will never know.
Each image now
a closed book revealing
nothing but its cover or,
at best, by luck,
a small, unexpected
glimpse of something more
caught in an expression
or in a look of the far way
reflected in your eyes.
Love always reaches back
to redeem what it can
to restock the treasures
stolen from its stores
by time.
And years hence,
will there be someone
looking at a photograph of us,
deciphering the pose,
seeking out a message
written in our eyes.
Will they see something
hidden in an old photograph
left there by chance, a sliver
of who we were, a little bit
of bone to replenish what
remains of us in their
reliquary of love.
“The presence of a long-term, conscious goal has helped me maintain stability through the ubiquitous changes of over half a century.”
quote by Mary Craig
Ubiquitous is a fixed measure
of dirty dishes, meals and laundry;
working moms miss out on their leisure.
Days and nights seem set on chronic pause.
Boredom, loneliness, and arthritis
barricade the lives of our grandmas.
For our children, ubiquitous means
constant homework, chores and discipline,
unrelenting on into their teens.
Non-stop updates in technology
and global politics stress adults.
Know change circumscribes ubiquity.
Faith too is of a timeless essence.
Without end, God remains in control;
ubiquitous, His omnipresence.
November 4, 2022
Contest: Writing Challenge – Unburden a “U” word
Sponsor: Constance La France
You say that you cannot trust me anymore
For some clandestine reasons you know best,
You have been saying that you are very worried
But I’m no angel to know why you are stressed.
“The distance is so big”, you always whine
And leave me without any answer for this,
“I can’t wait for all those months”, - fine,
But how do I bridge those countless miles?
Love is not love that cannot the arch of time defeat,
It is not love if it cannot with undying patience wait;
For love may doubt for a while but it gains trust with time,
It sees not the distance, but the heart that shares its fate.
And love is not love if it cannot the unchangeable accept.
For love is not a fool of time as the ageless Shakespeare said;
It traps the echoes of all the past the memory of history has kept,
And it persists through the strange cruelty of all eternities to come.