Long Allays Poems
Long Allays Poems. Below are the most popular long Allays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allays poems by poem length and keyword.
"Missed"
if you wanted me
to write about
rainbows and unicorns,
I would have to say
romance was never
on the menu of
the grinning soul,
in the days
when war came.
lines drawn in sand, see,
grains easily blow away,
to reveal what of strength,
hard and cracked, yet so
tangible survives underneath
it all, firmly remains.
the thistle with
its royal violet inviolate crown,
its thorns like swords,
persistent, makes its way
to what little light
endures, holds out,
shoots its way through
the fallout clouds.
it blooms
like a revolution.
never changes its
regiment colour.
beauty in survival
allays arid memories
and relishes the rain
to grow new life;
and like a thistle
the petals will-o-wisp
like a halo up into
the sky, far away,
but the roots
remain fixed
strong and
militarily resilient,
day after day.
romance comes
in the flurry of snow
falling on an
upturned face,
faith in something
of grace, offers
a smile that sings
still life doesn't exist here,
tongue outstretched
sensually tasting
a poisonous life
remembering
the last naked
tryst and how
one survived
the assassin’s kiss,
though the shooter
didn’t fare that well.
the shooter
perhaps loved
the target,
too much.
the target saw
the transparency,
reality of truth,
a subtle softness
pouring out
in the bleed, could win
through
the atomic
missed.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“This is what comes of military training”, she said, ”born and bred from military - both air and land forces - one becomes habitually practiced and intuitively alert to the enemy's position. Strategically, one is always lethally equipped, both psychologically and physically, in surviving wars on the mortal plane. Particularly, much later in the singularity wars, for a neural neophyte piloting those missions of slippery inter-dimension”.
In the days to follow, this quality in her would stand her well, in both dark and light fields, contradictory yet complimentary, the two warring co-ordinates of the Cross Field in the new domain. It was the place of the in-between worlds, where her mission would be implanted and eventually executed, expeditiously and with great success. Much to her detriment.
Prescribed blood tests
present no qualms,
unlikely nothing askew i.e.
ticking time bombs
nor prone to catastrophization,
albeit anticipatory anxiety
plus demeanor of poetically titled
medical practitioner allays, calms
alleviates agitation exhibited
by dad's and/or mom's
panic minimizes si? no sweaty palms,
nonetheless precautionary measure taken
thumbing apostle Matthew psalms
ayee feel grateful relatively
clean bill of health.
Nine thirty morning
appointment earlier today
September tenth two
thousand nineteen no way
found yours truly bright
tailed, and bush shay
eyed, cuz mine circadian rhythm
(reed sleepiness), I cannot betray,
yet medical plight concerning
bowel movement analogous to clay
stool pigeons ever ray
now and again plague me: hay
4 four at aye
oh elle dot com, alias math they
you scott harris happy as jay
bird for personable rapport
she, said practitioner did display
offering friendly feedback
proactive measures to avoid
finding mine psyche
analogously scrambled (think) souffle
even absent such agreeable
pharmacological medications keep at bay
panic stricken state
seeding additional gray
hairs (matter of fact
synthesized prescription -
pills selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors)
only necessitate small copay
Medicare bonafide dogsend
whereby nurse practitioner equal
however much she doth weigh,
in salt, though an oft worn cliché
feather in her cap coup d'état
personable, laudable, hospitable...
winning accolades regarding
humbleness and modest stay
expertise within her craft hoop fillet
staving off general mills concerns
reason I wrote rhyme, eh somewhat passé
even Mister Ed would neigh say
so with his horse sense to stirrup
unbridled jollity - me hoof finds rein
ching words cathartic je ne sais quois
experimenting with this, that,
or t'other typed out array,
perhaps hashtagged as tripe courtesy quay
zee poor ah shunned poet fray
ming tropes distinguished (ha)
even if garnering no pay
English language I play
juxtaposing incongruities
to tease out reactions probably lay
build rickety lettered edifices
manuscripts best sentenced to sauté
within steaming vat
fed as swill to petsmart hogs
grunting as they fertilize mulch greenway.
Wired mortal from the English Art
Banished from his home, spotted from a distance
Noble amongst scrawling African inscriptions
First veneration of mystical minds
Take a bow, take a bow.
Obliterating deliberate disregard
From interrupters of our histories,
With trophies, allays a regret and loss
So little for so great a heart,
Take a bow, take a bow.
Liberal lord of limpid looks
Grand philosophy too many for little minds,
Art of African arts
Impenetrable obscurity to the impatient,
Take a bow, take a bow.
Entangled genus in the darkest harbor,
Found in a waste howling wilderness,
Left to die in the gaols like their many kills,
And death too weak, spewed him in his flowers
Take a bow, take a bow.
Scrupulous dexterity of the bearded laurel
Multitudinous nobility and countless soothing saccharine
A restoration of our dignity not celebrated, and un-sung.
Tyrannous candor engulfed intelligential
Take a bow, take a bow.
Obdurate at the palaces of murderers
Smiling at military cavalcades, the terror of comrades.
Where barrels pacify the wrangling of children men.
A beholding bluff like Ogun’s iron garb
Take a bow, take a bow.
Yea, the snow-like signature in scraggy form
Impresses nature’s validity on his authority,
Corroding flesh lacerate aptness from his brow
Gyrating orbits of unmatched intelligence
Take a bow, take a bow.
Invisible man from the “kongi” kingdom
Imposing trepidation on pharaohs in the jungle,
Brawny penchant where others retire,
On Lagos streets and London’s courtyard
Take a bow, take a bow.
Nibble in niggle, stripping rogues of honor
Loathing unsavory milk unlike sycophants
Discarding opulence to mediate for the poor
With no reward or crown in intention
Take a bow, take a bow.
Knack for wars with imperious monsters
A constant blustery of unrepentant “Vagabonds”
Dusk till dawn, yearning for Justice.
Crying still, for murdered motherland
Take a bow, take a bow.
And if he dies tomorrow,
As death to all must come,
His posture, a statue for ever,
On our minds and in those rulers of the jungle.
Take a bow, take a bow.
Dedicated to Prof. Wole Soyinka
Nobel Laurate 1986
(Double sonnets- Part One)
Death First Knocks, Fear Then Enters, Plea Given
(Double sonnets- Part One)
Cold hand of death, thy touch arrives too soon
Weakens my breath, sorrows my tragic tune
Thy blow that hits hard, thy strike will deny
More years to this bard, yet gift saddest skies
Alas! Will not thy deed, be a great waste
Thy kiss, I have no need, its bitter taste
Deep bite of thy fangs, this heart fails to awe
Bittersweet death pangs, where true love recalls
Life was oft honey-sweet, days pure and true
Pray dawn we meet, rather than I curse you
Stay thy hand one hour, tis but a small plea
Let me greet faith's power, then finish me
Now friend, your silence speaks, I shed no tears
Moment I was weak, faith now allays fears
~ Death comes with a hiss, to give its reply ~
~ Where came such bliss, that soul ceases to cry~
Fear me the more, I hold thy mortal coil
Life has no soft shore, man sprang from earth's soil
Thy spirit rebels, this fate thy wrongs bring
Death offers its hells, dare thee to now sing
Thy request I grant, gifting thee a week
If vows thee recant, and curse as you speak
Bow to my power, I death ruleth all
I gift thee more hours, walk in my dark halls
One week I return, more time thee may earn
My deadly flame burns, thy love I so spurn
Then you must submit, curse thy day of birth
I have thus seen fit, to measure thy worth
Giveth me your praise, bow to my great strength
Life is a maze, thine I can give more length.
~ Away Death has flown, human spirit asks ~
~ Have I been shown, glimpse behind death's black-mask ~
Robert J. Lindley, 11-21-2018
Sonnet(s)- Part One
Note: Tale of Life, Fate And Death , written in four sonnets
Part One- Double Sonnets
Part Two, Double sonnets- Will faith hold power or temptation of having longer life rule. To be written, in due time...
These, cacophony that beggars descriptions
Disorder from indecent breed incubating,
Confusion of morals, the imposition of strange culture,
Filthily dressed to undress my mind,
Our teacher teaching theories of writs and wits
These promiscuous pastors parading piety with nudity
Lewd licentious and libidinous species luring laurels with drama,
These traditional priests tutoring the innocent as the skilled orthodox guru
Folly forming and fuming fire on the podium of cerebral
These gangs of immoral breeds hovering over men with enthusiasm
The sick physician administering drugs on the ignorant,
These,
A coup against Coleridge,
Wired Wordsworth,
Barron as Blakes
Shapeless Shakespeare,
With excessive deluxe paint like a red zone hawker,
These fashions clogging the pump of poetic flow
With the garbs of a seductress
Allays my feet to the "gutter-most" pit of whores
These, who feigned folly as fashion forcing Mr Flesh, to a quickie,
Teach me the lyric and lines and morals too
Inspire my curious heart in poetry and NOT the contours of shapeless show
Evoke in me a desire and arouse my intellect and NOT to lust
Induce me with scintillating lyrics and NOT to the nightmare and dreams of a succubus
Tempt my heart to scholastic loyalty and NOT to the apple of Eden
Conjure the parley of mutated minds with words
Come again to the conference in art and rags of skilled minds
I adjure you, be Natural
Life's greatest heated human tragedy
the one we are likely taught not to see.
Our wide-ranging worlds are well connected,
as atoms wiggle we're all effected.
Separation is optic illusion
a fitting end to one's soul seclusion.
Gurus say I am you and you are me,
that's the way it's supposed to be.
If I am Abe, Alice, Aron, Abu;
are they really me, how can that be true?
One respects collective society,
pledges to individuality.
It's in us to foster global good will
hold high hopes for oneness not to stand still.
Compassion is the real eternal key,
the single most important reality.
In the rays of moonlight truth shines so clear
allays all our unstated oneness fear.
When face to face, touch hands to then embrace;
stand up, stand in, alone and take your place.
So don't be offput by any confusion;
you're not separate, it's an illusion.
Lots of wisdoms will surely come to pass
while we lay lulling the scent of sweetgrass.
167 words 24 lines couplets
Reference: Albert Einstein quote, "The greatest tragedy
of human existence is the illusion of separateness"
Reference: Robin Wall Kimmerer, "Braiding Sweetgrass"
author, indigenous scientist, native American
Reference: Dalai Lama, teaches the importance
of compassion practice
Reference: Thomas Merton quote, "We are already one.
But we imagine that we are not."
Pen illustration by G. Gaul
September 2022
RESTLESS 11
(Mind, Body and Heart)
Kinetics, is what myself move
Rest in me is what myself has been exorcised
As my mind makes myself active
Move, move, move and always move
Makes myself happy and physically fit
to live.
There’s no reason for recharging
As early when I wake up in the morning
Its automatic I find myself working
It goes with the clock tik and tak, tik and tak
tikking and rhyming
It goes with my heart throbbing.
To perspire now and then is like my medicine
Inhaling and consequently exhaling
Makes my dull moments goes on thriving
As I find myself always truly charging
Rotating, revolving, aspiring and inspiring
without, sparingly.
However, when to rest in silence
Then to stop insists and to stop breathing
That I believe like battery busted bade goodbye
Muscles downed in drain makes the difference
Hands and feet straight no more locomotion.
At times physically is only a retriever
Is what makes the joints allays fears
Commencing to live parried without to burn
For it may go without saying: leaving the burden
To a halt and the rendezvous just discard.
But where I’ve been continually moving
Is where I’m confidently and happily rejoicing
Determined to finish a work instead for rewarding
The contract is the most self-rewarding and consuming
As doldrums hide away the past in self-adoration!
Sunlight streams through a crystallized window pane
flinging fragments of light across the wall.
Clear, my eyes take in this unclad display
as the ticks of the clock mark a lifeline of passing.
Shadows begin to flee the assailing of light;
Inner angles and crevices of darkness taken over,
quietly seeking to displace my blurred blackness.
Naked in pining, my exposed loneliness allays,
striking in exchange to the gracility of the dawn.
Beams prick my furtive senses,
caressed with enravishment in every breath and sigh.
Seconds pass, keepsakes pass in slides
quickly moving against my focus;
Remembrances of happiness and treasure.
A elevating breeze floats in
as I crack the casement to the outside world.
The pane, chilly along my fingertips.
Apart in my seclusion and isolation,
rivulets of moisture streak down my face,
after the frailty and withdrawal dictated after loss
bows to the command for closeness.
A whisper of covenants drift along the air,
carried by a past, gentle announcement given freely.
It directly corrodes this battered brokenness.
I inhale the sweetness of paradise lost,
and step forth into the clear morning
with certitude inscribed on an arrow in my breast.
I begin my day, without you, again.
Who do we search for, in this wilderness
Oh weary lama, there is no one here
That that is, is just ourself as oneness
Known when we choose to hear by inner ear
As magnetism each pore of form does sear
Enabled, when with love pulse we align
Vibrant bliss in form, that our heart holds dear
As we be now breathed by God’s breath divine
In this dream, feeling of separateness
Delusion, as we pursue earth career
Man against man in strife and ruthlessness
At all costs securing, what heart holds dear
Ego from shadows, does tauntingly leer
For myriad desire objects we pine
Fleeting is pleasure, short lived is our cheer
As we be now breathed by God’s breath divine
In time we hark conscience, as consciousness
Voice soft and subtle, allays our deep fear
We shift then to interconnectedness
Empathy love hue deems each soul our peer
Lower mind fades, as we become a seer
Head, heart and love, stand erect in a line
God’s our flagship, our life course He does steer
As we be now breathed by God’s breath divine
When ordained by grace we see God appear
Our soul stands still under the oneness sign
We vaporise as bliss each node does spear
As we be now breathed by God’s breath divine
18-January-2022
This is a long extended night,
The stars all hibernate,
The blustery gusts revolve around
The dreams which suffocate.
Now the torrents lash my door,
And now they slam the shade,
'Be couched right here, and do not move',
The whispers promptly bade.
Out there I glanced, the wild tree pranced,
She swayed her tipsy stem,
All drenched and dark, the leafy arc
Seems like her death-gown's hem.
Is that mere downpour, or a sign,
An omen of the time?
The thunders clash with louder splash,
Upon the lakebed slime.
My window pane is stabbed by rain,
One thousand spears en masse,
They prick the eaves, pummel the leaves
To the level of the grass.
The flickering lamp will die at once,
It does not cease to pour,
A marble sculpture drowns beneath
The water on the floor.
That which gives life can take it too,
Lo there it heaves its head,
The shrine's bemused, the priest presumed
A curse on holy bread.
It has to cease within no time,
The devil's thunder roars,
The gale allays his evil play
Withdraws his wondrous force.
28th September, 2021