Long Analogy Poems
Long Analogy Poems. Below are the most popular long Analogy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Analogy poems by poem length and keyword.
Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium.
Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.
He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.
His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes,
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.
Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.
Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.
Charcoal clouds rumble,
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.
Before him platinum priests preach,
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.
To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.
It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.
Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen.
In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
Sold to the biggest idiot!
His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.
Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.
Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.
Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One
25 July 2018
Tell me what does it mean to be free?
I find myself not free but locked up in a creation that desires... creation! Freedom is not just to move beyond the walls of confinement. The walls of confinement are not just of mortar, brick, iron or wood. These walls that confine this creation are more than just walls of flesh. These walls are walls of idealism and ignorance. These walls are reinforced not by bone and marrow. But, these walls are reinforced by the unknown. For if it was known then the freedom of this creation would pass beyond the strings of entanglement and would fly to the greatest height and to the lowest depth. This creation would endeavor to dream and create. This creation would move freely from realm to realm and would be a part of the greatness that created it...
The glass of images is just a mere reflection of creation. Images are reflected from the ice of hatred. Images are reflected from the heat of illusions. Images are created from pain, sorrow and defeat, and yet, images are created from victory.
How the heart is smothered in the sorrow of defeat... Yet, the mind soars as if freedom is the energy that propels the heaviest soul. Tell me again, what is freedom? Adventure is the glow that shines from lucid eyes not hindered by life taught.
Life taught? Walls are made from experience, from damage, from the hurt of another creation. A child. A new life. A beginning fresh and untouched by creation. Adventure seen through the eyes of a child... freedom from entanglement, freedom from illusion and images.
The prison begins it's walls of confinement as each day becomes weeks and months. The walls become stronger and impenetrable as the years go by and turn quietly into decades. Hardening of the mortar brings a numbness that reaches beyond the tenderness of kindness. This hardening grows colder as the eyes no longer are lucid. There is no fear in this state of prison... Nothing can tear down these walls of confinement. Nothing!
Yet a sparkle of remembrance goes unnoticed as a new life begins and thoughts of freedom start a crack in the walls of a hardened fortress. As a bubbling brook in spring cracks the ice of a cold winter, a heart begins once again to search for the freedom that will bring to life the adventure that no image of defeat or sorrow could ever again mire the soul...
Tell me... what is freedom?
Pernell Rodocker 8/19/13
“Do what thou wilt is the whole of the law”
But with that mantra there is one flaw
The one flaw is it’s not universal
Because someone could believe just it’s reversal
“Don’t do what thou wilt” I could do instead
From what was originally said
Presupposing atheism to prove Christianity
Seems a bit like insanity
But let’s for a moment surmise
An absurdity one can theorize
(But can’t prove it to the impossibility of
the contrary suppositional view from above)
If I am assuming atheism
You’ll need to provide more than a schism
You say I am unwittingly assuming naturalism
To prove my supernaturalism
It seems a bit odd to conduct in that way
But I am open to hearing how it will play
Our brains are all led to the same conventions
And we reason by man’s inventions
But that doesn’t tell us about abstractions
It dismisses all our nuanced interactions
It ignores our foibles and assumes omniscience
And ignores the chasm of quite a distance
But who are you to say a Christian is arrogant
To claim natural omniscience seems flagrant
Christians out of love are witnessing for Christ
So your battle is with God, and He’s closing the vice
A metaphorical vice crowding your minds
So don’t ignore the Spirit as He gently reminds
Numbers are not physical, numerals are
And so, the naturalist can only go so far
He can’t touch the abstract weight
And like Plato seeks a myth to commiserate
Commiserate for a worldview
That can never grow up or grow into
Or compete with the abstract proof
That using it is assuming it to turn and spoof
And says the atheist, “You are making this harder than needs be”
It is to admit you don’t have an answer to questions, too easy
“How do you account for counting?” As Van Til would say
Numbers are physical, but you can’t make it that way
You have to assume the Christian worldview, you see
To make sense of things like laws of morality
But then want to balk and chastise the contrariness
Who is the one living in this land of the nefarious?
So here’s an olive branch, this extended advice
Accept the free gift of God in Christ
It’s the only way you can break free from sins bondage
This view that sets you free from holding yourself hostage
So, listen as the parchment is unrolled
Read all that the writers have scrolled
And watch as the prisoners are paroled
And finally listen to the people as God is extolled
Hostilities
hate
& hysteria
world full
of
platitudinous
pandemonium
perceive
acute
sufferance
forbearance
of all
existing
behind
conflagration
& commotion
cupidity
& callosity
searing
sweltering
to
heal
hearts
by
drawing
love
& empathy
betwixt
beelzebub
& mephistopheles
painting
pugnacity
instead
of
horridness
poltroonery
sculpture
Isthmus
shielded
by
reverence
&
lionization
to
embrace
shades
of
rainbow
&
relish
silence
How
sensuous
Is
a tree
without
wind
blowing
through
its
branches
where
hidden
sun
wants
to shine?
& how
sensuous
mountain
clinging
falling
echoes
or
homeland
in search
of
its
home?
how
sensuous
depends
on
gratification
of
what’s
desired.
Written: May 05, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1214 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi
I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.
Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.
Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.
I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.
Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.
In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.
Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)
Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.
Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-
Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.
Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.
During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.
Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.
Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.
Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;
Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
Genesis means the beginning
Root word gene, the blueprint of life
So...In the beginning, of the seventies
There were jeans.
Now try to follow this
Jeans cover our bodies, but,
Our bodies are made of genes
Skin covers our bodies like jeans do
But, skin is made of genes too
We all have life, so the blueprints inside of us
So...genes have the blueprint inside
Jeans are printed blue outside
From genes come the word generation
Every generation loves jeans
Unless they are blue genes
That's when they're sad
Humans we are all living breathing genes
We were made by a Creator, a Designer
So in a way we are all wearing designer genes
And sometimes we also wear designer blue genes
That's when we're sad
Babies when they are born what are they?
Brand new designer genes
A teenager what is he?
Lightly used designer genes
A tired old man what is he?
Worn out and wrinkled designer genes
I feel sorry for the stone washed,
Acid washed, hard pressed
Steam ironed, left in the freezer, blue genes
Because not only has he had a hard life
He's also kind of sad.
November 22,2015
For open contest
Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
Still knocking on the heaven door
I saw a soldier man crying
At an after victory
Oh man why you cry
Asked I with a confusion
He said
Tell God I asked why it
Must be me
Ask God why it has to be
Like this
For right now am
Still knocking at the heaven
Door
Still knocking on the heavens door
Once I saw a brave man cry
That a lot it tells
A word is enough for the wise
So this words so deep he said
Tells us a lot
Once he was young
With an innocent mind like
An empty glass
Time goes so he got educated
With an identification
Of some enemies
The empty mind now corrupt
So with time he became brave with
This knowledge to war
Time goes till he was a soldier man
Ready to defend his country
Off to kill the enemy he goes
Like a scam of war
He saw a deferent face from
The enemy he knows
As he realise the war was false
The real enemy was his gangs
Back home
Who sent him off to war
So betrayed he felt as already
So many innocent he already
Sent to lay in peace
On the ground he bleeds
So brave now he cry
As first he asked why it must
To be me
Ask God why it must to be me
For right now am
Still knocking on the heaven door
Still knocking on the heaven door
Once I saw the brave grief
Wonder why so I ask
Soldier man why you cry after
A war victory
You will never understand
First he said
The war is not over
Not until I feel peace inside me
With this hands I slain
So I worth not to live
War are not what you perceive
Is better love than war
With the gun I murdered
So I worth not a love
In me the war is not over till
I know why it has to be this way
For right now am
Still knocking at the heaven door
I know God lies behind this close door
Still knocking on the heaven door
Have you ever seen the brave cry
Is like to see an eagle without wings
Life is like a zero
As wars is to vanity
So on this Quest
Only on this note
You see the brave cry as the
Soldier man now
Still knocking on the heaven door
Still knocking on heaven door
Hope he found his peace
Hope he finally meet God
Behind the close door
For so wars will never be over
Until we feel love and peace
Inside of us!
That only can come
Only when the close door
Of our ignorance is open
To love (God)
Until then all we can now do
Is only but
Still knocking on the heaven door
woo oh, woo oh, oh oh oh
woo oh, woo oh, oh oh woooh...
I wanna be there in a better well;
I wanna go where there is happiness, still;
Forever and a day;
Where we can sing, and dance and pray;
Sing hallelujah, each and everyway, for always, for always.,..
for ALWAYS...
I wanna go to the better side;
where my spirit will be free;
and I..
won't have to ever die no more, no, no;
I'll live rejoicing in liberty and my soul will;;
sing forever praising the joys;
for my God is great
and He will constantly provide for me
forever, forever, forever;
(from Anthology "Reverence" by James E. Lee Sr. 6/ 2017
I wanna go where God resides;
I wanna go to the better side;
no need to hide, no need to cry;
I am better now, cause I'm on the better side;
Happiness is where Jesus dwells;
No more death nor sorrow wails;
I'm gonna be forever happy here;
In the arms of my Father;
I wanna be there for a better well;
I wanna go where happiness dwells, and..
For ever and a day;
We will sing, dance and pray;
Forever in eternity singing hallelujah;
I wanna go to the better side;
Where my spirit will be free;
I wanna go to the better side;
Where I will be His bride;
And forever and all eternity, I'm gonna be free;
Everlasting forever in His arms I'll be embraced
On the better side;
I wanna go where I know my great-great grandmother is;
I wanna live with Jesus and all my cousins and them;
I want to abide with the angels and my ancestry pride;
Live and be alive with my God on the better side;
My grand parents went to the sweet by N by...
I want to live where, there's no more weather....
Where there'll be nothing but God's cover...
I am talking bout' HEAVEN..
the better side Heaven
the better side, the better side
Heaven
the better side, the better side
Heaven is the better side, the better side;
I wanna go where I know my Savior is;
I wanna go where God lives;
I want to abide with my God on the better side;
Be with my grand parents on the sweet by N by...
I want to live where, there's no more weather...
I wanna be where forevermore under God's cover...
What am I talking about..
This is what I am talking about
I am talking bout' HEAVEN, HEAVEN;
I wanna go where I know my Savior is..
Where God lives....
Heaven
I wanna go to the better side;
that better side is...
Heaven;
I wanna go to the better side;