Long Ages Poems
Long Ages Poems. Below are the most popular long Ages by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ages poems by poem length and keyword.
Stumble across the threshold of memory into places I’ve known or unseen and only relived in deepest dreams…
Clutching the candle of revelation high, its silken wax flowing the flame, it dances bright into the dark corners of self, the dark corners of mind…
Into the gossamer webs of thought that covered all things, best left alone and unseen by light, touch not objects covered in history…
Tapestries are woven in sharp twine, unopened, unloved, and kept unknown, posing the question in voids crowded rooms, where objects of misery languish in the gloom….
Things in perpetual motion like echos turn, something poised to haunt, the light will not fall far....far from eyes glinting secret creations vision…
For ages lost and forgotten driven in rages, stumbles the thoughts of ambient wonders, crumbles the moments of feeling, bruised hearts used as tattered cloth's, falling …
Falling into the light, not upon each object, a blur of things seen in moments described by firelight, focus not, in the eyes but the lenses reflect…
Touch, not the dry objects, let the dust fly, the rust of ages catches the image and dances in the flicker of the flame of revelation…
Stumbling across the threshold of time, my only memory is wandering into your inner past, as images frozen in the frame, caught like photographs…
Raw like winter's sky, the coldest darkest embrace, hold back the revelations of candles flame, sharp as images of you at the threshold of my memory…
birth mother of our planet
in harmony with your solar partner
your cycles providing the very essence of life
today we salute you and your virtues
you’ve sustained unspeakable wrongdoings
through man’s history been overlooked and abused
ignorance and short sightedness a poor excuse
your mighty power could exact revenge but no
seeming to turn a blind eye to obscene shenanigans
your moon lover knows how to soothe your sorrow
you’ve been blessed with the wisdom of eternity
through the ages you’ve seen species come and go
we know you’re hurting in the dead of night
biding time with karma around the corner
yes indeed… forgiving mankind for once again
they know not what they do ~
AP: 1st place 2021
Read on air by invitation ~ June 8, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
It was the time when art was king,
Of artists whose praises we all sing.
Great minds there were in the Renaissance,
Through eons , unsurpassed, with little advance.
Greatness was embodied in the works of art,
In Lorenzo's gardens did Michelangelo start.
But great there was one of Mona Lisa fame,
Master painter, inventor - Leonardo his name.
Contemporaries for sure, one really wonders
Of the two, whose work steals the thunders.
David, the Pieta, Sistine Chapel, and more
Everlasting they are through ages sure.
But then there's the Lisa, Last Supper, inventions galore.
On their ingenuity and genius, the world lays great store.
Can genius be bestowed in multiple men?
Can peace and tranquility be shared even then?
Can two kings sit and reign on one throne?
Or squabble and fight like two dogs with one bone?
And so, these men of unparallel fame
Were set by chance a mischievous game.
Asked they were to adorn the Council Hall
With paintings to settle rankings once and for all.
With gusto did the two set about
A Battle each to prove their clout.
Leonardo chose the battle of Anghiari;
Battle of Cascina was Michelangelo's quarry.
Great was the strife between the two,
Each strove hard for the other to outdo.
Of the rivalry ,I heard, - the worst of all,
Art was the victim - and the two took a fall.
Relates the great chronicler Vasari,Giorgio,
That the nadir of art was seen in the Palazzo Vecchio
As each of the greats thought little of their craft
But dallied and diddled, till the populace all laughed.
The Cascina on naked bathing soldiers was based
On the banks of the Arno it was placed.
But the scene that was rendered was so ludicrous
That his work, sadly, bordered on the ridiculous.
Leonardo's Anghiari was a shade grim
But his chances to greatness was very slim.
He used oils from Pliny the Elder's recipe
But soon these flaked , were smudgy, and drippy.
Be that as it may
To Art's great dismay
What should have been great works
Were diminished by Rivalry's quirks.
Vasari painted over these objets de art
And replaced these with his own from the start.
Now conservators do scan, to see if they can,
Which of the two, Leonardo or Michelangelo, was
The painter of the elusive Magnum Opus.
~18 Jun 2016~
Let’s Cook
My dear friend,
The book came today.
Well, actually the magazine.
It is the one you gave me
for the holidays…
(soft crying)
That seems ages ago now.
Yet today, the front cover…
was all about the upcoming days,
to spend with loved ones, friends, …
and…
Yet, not you.
(soft crying)
You got sick just after my first issue.
You were sick a long time.
Well, not really, but it felt so bad…
watching you each day suffer.
I would have traded a day for you,
to have a day of mine, just to give you ease…
You are gone now.
The pages of fun are setting on the table.
I can barely see the words.
Maybe they should print them larger,
for people, that just can not see,
when their heart is breaking…
I miss you.
I heard your hearts voice with the most beautiful answer,
It took the pieces of my heart and glued them back together,
You said I slowly wanted to show you everything about that tree,
Gaining trust and love is a process before we see,
I created you to be with me, and our love to flourish,
But I never got the chance to finish for the enemy stole it,
Would I give up on creating you just because,
The enemy was jealous and tried to steal your heart,
Yes, he caused a mess and it trickled down the ages,
But these were all the things I would've eventually explained this,
So free will was a must in order to see,
To gain trust and love first before more truth could be seen,
For without free will it would be considered control,
And when it becomes all about control how can love grow,
My heart shuttered as tears fell from my eyes,
Lord, I love you so much, the world blinds my eyes,
The big yellow moon shone down from above
Lovers walked together hand in hand
Expressions of intense passion bursts forth
Strolling on the beach kicking sand
The look in their eyes was of ultimate devotion
As if no one existed but the two
The world could come crashing down around them
On this rendezvous, nothing could intrude
Oblivious to surroundings, totally lost in a mist
Submerged in sweet passion divine
In time, reality will eventually bring them back
But for now, their hearts are entwined
This sweet romance is an affair for the ages
History books will remember it forever
Blinded by love in these moonlit surroundings
This moment of tender love together
© Jack Ellison 2015
4/14/17
Across the ages
There was many changes
During the beginning, middle and end of phases
Above and below any stages
Some left to be found, written upon pages
Leaving a lot or little to if any traces
Among any places
Considered tiny or spacious
Regardless of their being nearby basins
There is nothing funny about starvation
Nor the greed of certain corporations
Makes me have more rage than Jason
With a hockey mask, causing mayhem
Current situations
May have involved more complications
Close and far from any vegetation
Currency came in different faces
Among many nations
Or federations
Above and below the basement
Near and far from any pavement
People making and taking payments
Due to desperations
Some continually gave into temptations
Had hesitations
And made zero preparations
Meanwhile others reached the intended destination
Achieving a state of elevation
After much determination and hard work, followed a possible celebration
Or revelation
With concentration
Have some motivation
From within find more inspiration
While making adaptations
Throughout trials and tribulations
Many civilizations
You can see in person, or only through illustrations
Certain locations
Full of radiation
And/or known to have a dangerous reputation
Still yet to be proven with a solid explanation
Continual paranormal investigations
Regarding anything, accurate portrayals or misrepresentations
Unknown or famous
It was or wasn't caught on surveillance
Crystal clear picture quality or blurry with some grayness
Rituals conducted on certain occasions
Some of which involve shamans
Meanwhile apprentice or master, blacksmith and masons
May be wearing protective aprons
Working on something considered complex or fairly basic
Near and beyond any waters with or without crustaceans
By: Dalton Ogletree
By Vicki Acquah on Thursday, April 18, 2013
Prince Kennedy & Oladeji Vicki Acquah
Disappeared
We- are gone
diluted into oblivion
we have nothing left but our footprints
The handwriting is no longer on the wall
The noses are broken off
we are no longer us
Obscurely written out of
life's script, no future roles to play.
The primitive man and all modern
day caveman - and sand men have
forgotten the people of the soil-and
the trees and the water and the mountains
women behaving _nonchalantly___
as they watch -us being erased;
Written out of history.
What is left of us
we who write poetry
that does not impress wealth,
they eat, we die -- they drink
we go thirsty, they make
merry with their Dirty sex;
While we imitate our exterminators.
we disappear with
broken noses and borrowed hair
We are no more.
Our costumes died
then our children
with no past and no future
we are no more~~~~
Now that we are being
created by our scribes;
penned down ages before we could
realize that our solemn but
equivocal art, superimposed
with fervent sentences bore
more intonations & meanings
than maidenly sought;
We lie within our meditative silences.
Reminiscing the helter,skelter and
dither, through which our stories
were told in words.
While the strokes by our quills
fade & shiver to sheer posterity
but eventful mileages;
We beseech this forthcoming generation
To voice out in unison the
unfinished phrases, but clauses
yet again.We are now no more.
Although there were a few scattered
prospects yet to be achieved;
we lie abed not asunder,
With no regret or fear or whatsoever
We are no more.
Only in fiction shall we meet
To play our parts with unsung aptitude.
As our styles are pursued;
Until then, we are no more.
As life still beckons on
with trajectories being preached
but sold,We pray you, this age
that celerity & glee fuel your
palms but gumption's with
deepened emotions & thinking caps.
As the die is cast,
Till the results are known;
We are now no more!
(unfit
category
but no
choice.)
Life would
be
worthless
and
short
If this is
the only
dear life
we
have
Great
plans just
death can
abort
to be
useless
once you
met
your grave.
And for
those who
die young,
in
chilhood's
tender
ages
How short
and
incomplete
life
would be
How
unfair and
unlucky if
death's
the end
for them
Besides
life to the
fullest is
eternity.
What
about
those who
born
and die
poor
or those
born deaf,
blind or
lame
What if
they were
so
doomed
without
any cure
How
unlucky if
resurrection
never
came!
But a
belief that
there's a
life
after this
could be
of great
consolation
and solace
especially
to the
poor
handicapped,
the
shortlived
that they
could
make it up
under
heaven's
grace!
For the
good one
who is
born
blind
In heaven
shall he in
brighter
vision see
And the
goodly
one yet
who
has lost
his mind
will in the
afterlife
be as sane
as could be
The deaf
man with
his balance
of pious
acts
Only the
hereafter
would
compensate
what he
lacks
And that
godly one
born poor
and who
dies poor
could be
of the
richest at
heaven's
door
In this life
those
who've
been
saintly yet
unable to
talk
could
cheer up
to believe
what
heaven
has in
stock
For this
world can
be misery,
heaven's
the place
to rock
In this
world at
times
you've
to let the
hawks
gawk
Knowing
your
tormentor
in
heaven
shall ye
mock
Thus for a
true
happy
ever
after
for an
abode of
mirth and
laughter
Work
towards
thy
hereafter
A divine
place
devoid of
disaster!
The Skeptic,
With his torch and its light, which seems subdued
On my knowledge he will scorch with a true, which tends towards lying
And condemns me into dyeing in due course
The Scholars,
They tend to turn what could be true, into lies which best unlearned
And take the knowledge of the ages twisting it to empty pages,
only fit to burn
The People,
Oh how they follow, down their streets and in their churches,
only lead by something hollow, is it dead, staunchly waiting, cold and empty, calculating
This I pray not so.
The Masses,
Like stubborn asses, do not love, the one above, but keep crying while denying
that they killed The Peaceful Dove , and This bring them to disaster,
serving blindly, their evil Master
Form: