Long Allan Poems
Long Allan Poems. Below are the most popular long Allan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allan poems by poem length and keyword.
Past me not that I have Wondered
By:Hymn. Written-me
Thee of love
an unbridled passion
Yeah of desire
A lovers want
We in love
A foolish conversation
We as one
Means others undone
I sought to be
As we are lovers
I bow from performance
I had been willing
Oh love Devine
Might I be less hated
To be loved
and in love
But not with you
Speak ye as mine
Ione dare not whisper
Oh til then
We part as friends
He who supplies
My weather you wonder
That we may be
Only friends
Oh then to God
I am recketed
In waiting
Abesenace I am
Without
Oh til then
Must stand
Debated
My thoughts and views
Trampled about
My true love
Allan done
To reduce tensions
Ignorant me
My foolish self
To be yours
I wait in wonder
Troubles me
Of then we are
Least and not perfect
Oh to God
And those who had
Troubled most
Redefined
Might than
You desire
Lay with me
Stress me not
But to ones duties
As lover
Friend
And wife
Consider me
In ones
Thoughts and mentions
Pray for us
We better still
In poetry, love and wisdom intertwine—a heartfelt love poem can carry profound wisdom, and wise reflections often touch upon matters of the heart. ????
Psalm 90:6
in the morning it springs up new, but by evening it fades and withers.
When my heart returns in seclusion,
I uttered these words to myself,
Give it time, be wise, embrace self-compassion
I must put myself first, I must, I must,
This time around, I don't want to walk away,
Taste only me, make love to only me
Reflected only in my space.
enchantment leads to my dearest delight
enter my soul before the break of dawn
A dream within a dream according to Edgar Allan Poe
For our morning blessing/
Happy or sad, our morning salutations/
There is nothing more appealing
Then seeing white undershirts and white teeth
as it captures the youth of innocent,
falling in love, with a cub, half my age,
A trickery of unfocused emotions bearing down.
I can see no flaws,
I see only what my heart allows,
Trembling lips, both top and bottom
gazing into those eyes of witchery illusions
Just this once, just feed me, just enter my soul
This frigid northern cold, the Africa heat rises:
Who will bless this union?
When it all fades like leaf
All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.
Let me love you for now,
Let me smile, while you smile,
aloud me, to accept you,
as you enter my soul
Summary: This poem weaves love, wisdom, and introspection. It invites readers to embrace self-love, navigate illusions, and seek blessings amid life’s impermanence. ????
The inspiration behind this poem lies in the interplay of human emotions, the ephemeral nature of existence, and the search for meaning. The poet grapples with love, self-compassion, and the complexities of relationships. The references to biblical verses and contrasting elements (such as northern cold and African heat) evoke deeper contemplation. Ultimately, the poem invites readers to explore their own hearts, desires, and vulnerabilities. ????
In the distance, a soul does mourn,
The Raven caws, a heart forlorn,
Fear grips tight, as life's sun sets,
Having never danced, with wild regrets.
A life unlived, a dream unchased,
A heart that yearns, but feels misplaced,
In twilight's grasp, the mind's despair,
Echoes of 'what if' fill the air.
Lost in the void of wasted days,
The Raven's wings, a somber haze,
Yet, hope still flickers, dimly gleams,
To seize the day, and shatter dreams.
Embrace the now, release the dread,
For fear of death, the soul's true bane,
Carve your path, let passion reign,
The Raven's call, no longer pain.
Its raven skin follows without a 'woof,'
no bark no bite,
darker than a shadow in sunlight.
It reflects in the mirror,
staring with 'Edgar Allan Poe,' ebony eyes.
At dawn it's at the bedside,
wanting to wander into the morning mist.
At twilight it rests its head on my pillow,
stalking, into my sleep.
It sits on the passenger seat,
without a seatbelt, unfocused,
unconcerned, like it has no need to exist.
It plods slowly around the office,
slumping forward, back curved like a 'jack knife.'
Colleagues ignore its obsidian paws,
sore from scabs, resting on the desk.
Its head droops with my sullen, dull ache.
Its tongue looks rough, no saliva drips -
a bit like my cracked lips.
We both seem to breathe in dry air,
as it feeds on my molasses mind.
It has no interest in sticks nor treats,
nor cares to leave my side.
A sinister magnetic faithfulness.
Unmoved, as I vomit black bile.
I wonder how is he a man's best friend?
1.
Material life in the Material World:
Duality in every direction:
As Heaven above is,
So, the earth below:
With every delicate, red, mysterious rose,
A proverbial, wounding thorn ...
2.
Suburban splendor:
A life of "quiet desperation";
Holy apparition, manifestation,
Suburban confession:
One fine, fine house;
Five exquisite rooms inside;
But not one friend
In any one of them.
One calls through the door of each:
There's no reply; nothing; nada;
Just the sound of the proverbial "crickets chirping".
But unlike the stand up comic, struggling on stage for
A laugh, facing the blank, staring faces of the audience,
One knows there's no one "out there",
Knows one can't "hear them breathing".
There's only solitude,
Only the sound of one's own heart beating,
Finally coming back to one's senses.
3.
Chance, chaotic and mistaken:
Father and child suddenly, unexpectedly -
Trade mutually alienated, hostile glances,
Father versus child, the father the fool -
In an existential fog:
Another small, quiet death,
Saving beauty lost,
A moral universe crashed and burned,
For now ...
4.
Endless summer:
The Ides of August
[Ancient Roman feast day for the slaves]
Sunday, August 13
Summer vacation at the shoreline;
Somehow, girlish and laughing,
Diana in tow, eyes alive;
And there, some way thriving:
Every mother, every daughter,
Every child: Loving, fervent prayers to the Goddess.
And a night like a dream:
Dreams dreamed asleep,
And ones dreamed awake;
The flower of the day time
And the flower of the night.
With gentle whispering, a sigh,
Ghostly pale, water lilies stir -
On a slowly, softly brightening shore -
Awaking, enraptured, basking
In a full moon's timeless glow.
[Above poem in honor of
Edgar Allan Poe, American poet; writer; editor;
literary critic extraordinaire (1809 - 1849);
And of Fernando Pessoa, renowned Portuguese poet;
writer; literary critic (1888 - 1935);
And of George Harrison, of course, phenomenally influential Beatle;
singer/songwriter/musician; producer; Hare Krishna devotee (1943 - 2001);
Haribol!]
P.S. IT’S POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 5
Many thanks to you selected poets;
Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it;
Each letters and each word;
Reads so very dear and well;
Joys of your souls cheers;
Covenants of choice, reading your voice;
Blessing peace be still;
Please keep writing your skills;
Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S.
Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers
•
• Chantelle Anne Cooke 128, 20, 36
• Charles Knowlton 176
• Charlie Smith 15, 86, 86
• Charlotte Puddifoot 225
• Choice Randell Melugin Jr 294, 424
• Chokri Omri 277
• Chrisdad Kojo Arthur 322
• Christopher Flaherty 302
• Christopher Grieves 203, 455
• Christopher Mwashinga 462
• Claire Thom 440
• Clive Blake 389
• Cole Banner 225
• Constance K. Wong 7
• Constance La France 240, 52, 84
• Craig Davids Cornish 115, 156, 216
• Crystal Toureene 400
• Curtis Johnson, Sr. 326
Dale Gregory Cozart 289, 5, 90
• Daniel John Berg 153
• Daniel Turner 17, 42, 76
• Dave Collins 390
• David A. McHattie 144
• David Allan Williams 103
• David Andrew McHattie 161
• David Drowley 235, 283, 405
Past be not
With these currentceies
Past me not
That I had to find
Something different and
Unique
Past me not
In such a distinction
To be all you
Want me to be
Lovers most
the sweet surrender
Dolce the sound
That had seemed
Unsatisfied I speak
Us asunder
Replenish my fait
In thee
Oh blessed me
That you are my lover
Oh blessed me
You might take my hand
Salvage all
That we have
Together
So that we
Might still remain friends
Then he whispered
Love in the conversation
Related me to
Fiancee
I excepted his want
With an answer
We begin
This Glorious day
I sang
Jesus
Jesus
Allan is not
Perfect and kind
I sang
Jesus
Oh, Jesus
Love our sweet remind
The ocean shatters on the banks of my despair
where I stand above the cliffs in mournful yearning there,
amid the thunder and the lightning
that cracks the black of night
I curse the rocks below that took his precious life.
Oh Cannon Lee, Oh Cannon Lee!
my merman of the sea,
so beautiful a creature the world has never seen.
To gaze upon his beauty is to wake up in a dream
and drift forever in those tranquil eyes of green,
those dreamy eyes of my darling Cannon Lee.
I met him on the shore of Evermore
where he lay upon the rocks, his tail torn,
battered by the raging storm, so cold and so forlorn,
dying in the wake of early morn.
I wrapped myself around him, beneath my ermine cape,
and felt his shallow breath upon my tear-stained face
as he took me with a kiss
to his land beneath the sea,
the only place where he could ever live and breathe.
Visions of Atlantis were painted in my mind,
a castle on a cliff where liquid valleys wind
amid the blue and green
and all the shades of light that fall between,
the difference of awake and in a dream.
And in that final hour
his heart began to beat as mine,
and I knew for evermore that I would never find
a love so deep, complete and so divine
as the love that stole my heart, my soul, my mind,
my darling Cannon Lee.
And now I stand upon the cliff of Evermore,
and fall into those dreamy eyes of green once more.
~~~
Author: Elaine George
Inspired by: Edgar Allan Poe
Whilst Jon-Allan was out Iraq to warfare ban,
In 2007 he sustained an injury, rocket attack,
So that doctors had to amputate his left arm,
But after rehab he continued the sport’s crack.
He’d been a weapons technician in the RAF,
At Basra airbase, and before that Afghanistan,
But he was now on a programme so to quaff,
Any idea that he wasn’t good at cycling’s pun.
He took the limelight at the London games,
When he won three silvers for para-cycling:
One for the C5 Individual Pursuit, sole aims,
One for the mixed team sprint very cunning,
And another silver for the C4-5 1km Time Trial!
Then 2016, and he won gold for the mixed team,
And also a silver medal for the C5 kilo Time Trial
In Montichiari, and so made the Rio GB Team.
Why would someone yearly toast the birthday
of a poet like Edgar Allan Poe?
And on that day toast his grave the same way,
leave the bottle, three red roses, and go.
The man locals nicknamed, "The Poe Toaster."
in the mid-30s; remains anonymous.
But each Jan.19th, like a morbid poster,
Poe's grave and his toasts were synonymous.
Wearing a white scarf and wide-brimmed hat,
he'd arrive there in the early morning.
But in 2009, stopped, just like that,
and disappeared without any warning.
For 60 years, this phantom toasted Poe,
whether friend or foe, we may never know.
(Sonnet)
9/20/2018