Long Antic Poems
Long Antic Poems. Below are the most popular long Antic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Antic poems by poem length and keyword.
Social Divide
Same age, same era, same time
Meeting of spiritual and intellectual
Meeting of ancient antic and new
The ancient principles are forever principles
Created by and given by God to humanity
To you, to them, to us. The Living Plan of Life
This was the beginning. The original, authentic
People lived normally in nature. Family, kids
Grandparents, parents, and the new generation together
This was a great family model. The Rule. Created by God.
Humanity has grown and developed. Shaped nicely
Okay. There were problems. But here it is important that the family
The family
The love
The stability
God’s Nest!
And then the intellectual science burst into the human world
Aggressively. This was a planned attack against love
This science is Western psychology. To kill the Eastern traditions
(I met only one Western-style psychologist. All. English. I'm talking about that.)
Psychology
Psychologist
Hmm
Same brand
I was persecuted because I like reading the Bible
I was persecuted because I didn't accept men’s friendship…
I was persecuted because I like women
I was persecuted because I am a European
I was persecuted by this Western-style psychology.
I was persecuted
Because I am monogamous
This psychology created a chaotic split consciousness in my life
This kind of psychology created a chaotic split consciousness in life
Of Humanity
This kind of psychology is very active
This kind of psychology consciously affects to world
Morality is dying
Abortion is fashionable
Children are being killed
before their birth
Men are afraid of women
Me too
I don’t want English psychology
In my life
Never!
“Most Well-groomed!”
Such was his latest Sunday School Award
Dressing up as a preacher, lawyer, or flight steward
Overcoming the timidity of a nervous coward
Earning him admiration-glee as he moves onward.
At ten years old, he’s hygiene-fanatic
Delighting in every bathing spree with his mirth-filled antic
Missing his wardrobe favorites makes him frantic
Teeth brushing for him is never a task that’s gigantic.
Milestones he displays are miraculously remarkable
He’s undeniably sociable; indeed notable ---
Despite his condition, not actually favorable
Oh, he’s so cheerful; and yes, sweetly amiable.
Though wheel-chair bound, manifesting spasm epilepsy
His countenance doesn’t show he has cerebral palsy
In sign language, he communicates --- revealing proficiency
He prays well, thanking God with praise-ecstasy.
Midst his global developmental delay-diagnosis, he’s smart
A precious gift, my child dearest whom I love with all my heart
Unceasingly reminding me of God’s compassion* from the very start
Strengthening my faith, guarding me from any evil dart.
*Psalm 145:8 The LORD is gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy.
November 2, 2019
7th place, "2 to 12 Year-Old Child" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Beth Evans; judged on 11/21/2019.
Welcome to this grand festive fair
For the benefit of special children’s care
Highlighting their development welfare
With compassion and love’s share…
But oh my, why has it turned as a scare?
The Social worker has been invited to grace the occasion
Fulfilling mission to guard children against rights' violation ...
Thus, midst vigilant observation and discretion
She's ready to solve case on joyous kids showing terrified reaction
In a festival where prevailing spirit must be jubilation!
With clowns’ appearance in the joyous event
Showing quirks they comically invent
Kids vent-out, frightened, nervously fervent...
Thank God, they are pacified; their fears, prayers circumvent
By parents appeasing them so terrible commotions prevent!
Having worked well circumspectly
Proper authorities were called soberly
Affirming knowledge of culprits conscientiously...
It was learned that impostors are not child-friendly
Since they rob peace and order deserved by every child in the family.
The policemen then gently shout: “Don’t panic!
Calm down from being frantic!
Our fault, we didn’t screen every clown’s antic…
Since we think they’re all acts of magic
We belittle children’s mindset on logic!”
The youngsters now beam with delight
When the clowns are nowhere in sight
Having been apprehended by those who saw their plight…
What matters most is, kids are giggling with gladness' height
As clowns-turned police officers tell stories on doing what’s right!
Have you had a dinner overlooking Rome?
A quiet, garden setting, where you two are alone?
Darkened bushes, candlelit table, with tiny lights all aglow,
romanticize the setting, as we all know.
Start with a glass of a fine red wine,
aged just right, and sweet as the vine.
A little Antipasto is what I certainly would say,
Cheeses, Salami, Pepperoni, and Flatbreads all go a long way.
A Caesar Salad prepared at your table side and done,
by a young Brazzi look alike, with a certainty of perfection.
The glass of a fine white wine will next set the pace,
changing the evening, while staying in place.
The Entree ordered is a delicious Piece of Sole,
large enough to share, baked to its flaky goodness in whole.
Asparagus Spears, Broccoli, or Italian Beans simmered with soy,
could all be accepted as Side Dishes with our fish to enjoy.
Tiramisu for her, Creme Brule' for me with its golden crown,
with an Ice Wine to wash these tasty Desserts down.
Then a Latte or Cappuccino might just do,
with some Creme Sherry to finish the mood.
A short romantic walk to the Trevi 'neath Rome's idyllic moon,
means that our dinner has ended all too soon.
Our "Special Evening" however, is only done,
When we later make love to each other...uniting as one.
written: 10/25/15
for the third class life is surrounded by, not a single affirmative element but utter negativity, it may be a condemned one, yet is still worthwhile living the life because in the total negativity one can disavow everything just like an absolute authority
for the third-rater is always treated by those around one with contempt, the life may be miserable, yet is enjoyable because the anger i swallowed in every moment of my life and kept in the depth of my heart with tears can be spewed out at any time, in anywhere, just like a most powerful tyrant
to impress others, may be impossible, i flapped the wings that actually i didn’t possess; the beauty of life was then however, it doesn’t matter if i was a performer of first class theatre or of third. even with those inexistent wings, i was able to fly boastfully in the spotlight dazzling colorful air though for a little while
although i searched for a way to wonderland and went after a good and ripened time for harvest, the soul rent with grief and mortified, alas, i was always wound-up to standing in the damned same starting point because no matter
how hard i searched, the way to wonderland was nowhere on earth it never
existed for me, no matter how eagerly i went after it, the ripened good time was never there for me to harvest; nonetheless, even with deeply wounded heart, i was able to find the moment of peace at the point where i started off was, may be my numbed sensitivity, caused from the debt too great for me to pay off, caused from the destitution never be filled to flee from it
“why don’t you laugh at this ludicrous fool’s tears?” the fool being ousted from even this filthy third class theatre which was filled with rowdy audiences! “why don’t you cry for this helpless buffoon’s laughter?” mimicking Caesar with antic,
‘et tu, Brute!’*
even in this crucial moment
of losing my one and only vocation the buffoon ever had
*William Shakespeare. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 1. ‘You too, Brutus!’
Nearby, drained, workaday faces pass by:
Working people with working class woe:
Faces bent in suffering, near hopelessness, made indiscriminate rue.
But turn on the car radio as the people pass by within earshot:
Music escaping from the radio,
Like the paradisal bird escaping from the
Proverbial gilded cage:
The otherworldly, mesmerisingly liberating rock, blues, jazz, and
Poetry of the Doors;
The antic, agonized meditations and harmonies, the unfettered idealism and
Humanity, the driving, rocking rhythm of the songs of John Lennon;
The rustic, soaring harmonies, the heartfelt, universal humanity of the
"Cosmic American Music" of LA "rhinestone cowboy" Gram Parsons:
Working class faces passing by, suddenly smiling, happy looking for
The first time that day, Spirit enduring, Victory assured.
Dewdrops stream down boisterous
children’s freckle-strewn mischievous dials,
as they dash in cartoon costume faux denim
apparel amidst the pale yellow sunlight glare.
Marble stone button twiddle on a blue
rinse wrinkle t-shirt,
Sumptuous ice cream raspberry blobs
tantalise the cheeky taste bud imps
whose chocolate brown eyes swell with
every morsel glutinously gorged on.
Doting parents wantonly indulge
their dawn glow
offspring’s shrieks of antic wonderment,
the honeysuckle fragrance that
releases germ-stuffed
nostrils a portentous spring nectar booster
shot for folk and kin alike,
effervescent yodel from young sibling and the
young at heart zeal of golden realm guardians
elevated to this neon sign paradise,
purple sleeve lacquer layer hydrant, surreal spirit saviour
of parched embryonic throats.
Picklock to that universal perfume
cloud that hovers
over asphalt stain urn and
stoic mint green
pristine luscious lawn,
playground for the butterfly wing vernal innocent shrouded by an orange peel citric soft fruit haze.
Age span infant euphoric zoom on fountain spume,
where families in a Ferris wheel hubub rejuvenate the
lacklustre greyness of their far too often
monochrome existence.
Posted ; 4th May 2022
Hear me mates, before its too late.'
Get awake..Not woke! It'll send you broke.)
I have cried in anger.' In sadess and rage.'
At the counrys humilliation, and the world its stage
Its time to leave ideaologys that steal great
Aussie values.' Cue labour liberals greens and the teals!
Go and study the 1980s.' Though there were still fools
In charge.' The people were more involved in actions
By and large.' Put away navel gazing. And disengage.'
From the quackery and e u foolery.' And useless tirades'
In all states and territory, can you just say g'day? Embrace
Your true heros.' Listen to what they say.' I think of Hobart
And Patterson, Bosi' Latter and Hoody.' Culleton and
Rennik and Antic; another goody.' Smit; and krystal, iyah, Claire Woodly too.' stand
With them Australia." And get back to ( true blue!)
The Endless Green Meadows
On those long ago sultry days
Out in the endless green meadows
The virgins of the ancient sun would roam.
Roam they would, talcumed and perfumed,
With white lacy sleeves and bare feet,
Hiding like ghosts in the lusty shadows.
Hiding and peeking from behind sweaty branches
With leaves and pears and throbbing flowers.
Out in the endless green meadows
Seeking just a peaceful moment of repose,
A sensuous peaceful moment
In the intoxicating shade of new discovery.
Seeking the virgins of the ancient sun
The lads of stone and metal and rock
With desire as billowing as a relentless storm cloud,
Walk and saunter in the exalted sunshine
Walk like antic heroes with swords prepared and unsheathed,
Finding and embracing and enveloping
The gasping virgins of the ancient sun
With lemons and oranges and red ripe apples,
And a pulsating pink universe of wild overwhelming sensations.
I was there too,
Running as free as a wild thought,
And as light as an ethereal dream
That had miraculously come true.
I heard harps and violins in the distance
And she and I
Both naked and breathing heavy,
Stared deeply into the soulful recesses.
Our moist lips met in the shade there,
Out in the endless green meadows.
Very aware that there is a fair share of fellows
Fan flames burning elan maims with bellows
Whom dare to pose not care about their woes
Laid bare rhymes snared wild meadows mows
Us yearning for poetic melody of mellow cellos
Despair that their attitude is almost bellicose
Foes nightmare lair where I do come to blows
Heir to pair Keats & Byron but no they chose
Rhymeless charmless fayre that's just prose
Heard when occurred then poetry blurred
Pedantic herd frantic semantic antic deferred
Each cranny & nook has a canny hook if stirred
Spurred absurd word flair whirred seeds sows
Glows with those lingo bingo bows it bestows
Grows rare nerd rows 4 hip hop bros & hoes
Pros purred knows highs & lows all about flows
Stuffing buffing nothing blows anything goes
Non stop trip hip hop drop or flip to ship of grime
Prime chime every time it's an on a dime rhyme
Fops chop chop Pop's top crop lets rip does climb
No crime saga like an aga..mime or lager and lime
Sublime he crows every single poet’s holistic pastime
Artistic don let the lexicon just mingle the paradigm
This linguistic shingle gives you a lovely wee tingle
Sod twee odd bods going ballistic poems must rhyme!