Long Anton Poems
Long Anton Poems. Below are the most popular long Anton by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anton poems by poem length and keyword.
For Robin Williams
She doesn’t realize
anything around her,
in this labyrinth of reality.
She thinks she has
her own mind
(which she lost, when she died).
I’ve been to hell once.
I fell in love with Anton Chekov
when I was in a psych ward in college
for a weekend.
Chekov was an author
I didn’t know until then.
I had the best
conversations of my life
with people who might still be there.
I don’t remember their names,
but I remember their stories.
One was of a man who saw his uncle
fall from a roof and die,
and his hell was the reoccurring memory
of that fall.
Another memory was a woman,
older than me, who reminded me
of my stepsister,
who also didn’t get
“the fuzzy end of the lollipop.”
She told me of the men who raped her.
I was raped once, too.
I was not "adored once, too"
as the fool says
in 'Twelfth Night.'
She got carried away
with the injustices of life.
She was given tranquilizers.
She was drooling
a few minutes later.
I won’t go to hell twice,
no matter how tough this life gets.
Every day is a “Double-D Day”
and my double-d doesn’t stand
for divorce, death, or bra size.
It just might be the choice to live.
That is my private meaning
and my private life.
It is the part of this poem
that won’t be explained.
Everyone’s Double-D life
is private, if they choose
the privacy of life.
I want to offer you
the heaven of your making,
whether that be
in rainbow charcoal,
black-and white graphite,
or a cold mountain
in Alaska.
“Sometimes,
when you lose, you win.”
Let’s find each other,
all over again.
I want “the joy
of rediscovering you”
in an acrylic painting
of heaven.
*The quotes I referenced are taken from the film ‘What Dreams May Come’ with Robin Williams, the song ‘Faithfully’ by Journey, Marilyn Monroe in ‘Some Like it Hot,' and Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night.'
Gurus religion and spiritual leaders encourage us to kindly
Reflect on meaning and soul for the sake of compassion
Existence before essence takes another stance on ethical life
As Sartre lies in his grave his message stands firm just the same
To heal confusion and balance dysfunction with a humble mind
Eternal infinite and impermanent uncertainties challenge
Serenity and the pedestal may threaten to be a garrotte
Calling for honesty and moderation in the face of defeat
Anton once stood at a crossroad with a noose round his neck
Pondered persecution death and the illusion of prison
Emblazoned by provocations of doubt he had a great escape
14th January 2020
When love is a failure
The bird of love sits in a gilded cage, sometimes
it gets out and flies in search of mischief.
Anton, a young student from a middle-class family
sat in a crowded café drinking a beer, when Maria
entered, she had a coffee since the café was full
Anton beckoned for her to sit with him at his table.
Lovestruck!
In infatuation, they had met by chance and nothing
about them made sense; Anton was well-educated
Maria could barely struggle through the headlines
of the local newspaper, but she was of a generous
disposition, eyes that mirrored her warm nature.
The bird of love was back in its cage and felt smug.
Anton’s family threatened to disinherit him,
Maria’s family of Tinkers were outraged that she
loved someone outside the clan.
The loving couple lived in the poor part of the town
Anton had a horse collect rubbish and brought
the stuff to the town’s waste depot, he
drank a bit, put him in a mellow mood.
After work, Anton sat in the stable reading books
and newspaper, sometimes Maria came and they
spent the night there.
At home were two sons who blamed their parents
for their poverty and lack of progress, they also
made fun of the mother, who had grown fat and
had rotten teeth, they also stole Maria’s cash
she stored in an empty biscuit tin.
Their love was so overwhelming they had no time
for the children; in the cage, the bird of love grinned.
"Come over here guys...
What a spectacular performance!
Were the judges as impressed?
I think there's a very good chance..."
"My darling, that was FAB-U-LOUS!
It had elegance. It had style."
"That was so so beautiful!
It made everybody smile!"
"Well, that routine was off the charts!
I'm speechless once again..."
"Look! Craig's dusting off the cobwebs
And he's whipping out his TEN!"
"Well done guys, head up to Claud,
Where you'll find out where your scores
Will put you on the leaderboard...
And there is still applause!"
"Wow! That was incredible!
How did it feel?"
"Like it wasn't really me out there...
It was so surreal!"
"My partner has been amazing,
Working every possible hour in."
"Fingers crossed. We're rooting for you!"
"The judges scores are in.
Craig Revel Horwood"
"............. Ten."
"Motsi Mabuse"
"It's a ten!"
"Shirley Ballas"
"It's never too early
For a TEN from Shirley!"
"Anton Du Beke"
"It was brilliant! Ten!"
"That's the highest score
Of the series so far...
You've smashed it! Well done!
You truly are a star!
If this couple was your favourite
Then make next week a yes.
Voting opens at the end
Of tonight's show. Tess!"
Written 22nd November 2022
For the "Dialogue Proficiency Contest"
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
A Day Late but not forgotten
By Franklin Price
08/19/2023
Nineteen months and a day ago, my Barbara left this life
She was my muse, my lover, was my darling and my wife.
I'm in a Louisiana motel room, writing this a little late
A little tired from traveling but feeling more than great
This week found me helping out, the Captain grandkids in their house
They were in the midst of PCS with more troubles than a mouse
Furniture was broken, not delivered, maybe lost
Boxes covered everything, they were all mixed up and tossed
No day care available, for our Great grandson Dean
All was so up in the air than anything they'd ever seen
I was home in North Carolina when last week was getting through
Thoughts from Barb came to me, there is something you must do.
We'll get up in the morning and head for San Anton
See what we can do to help them, to let them know they're not alone
That we are still there for them, to help them with their things of note
I know we'll make things better, although I have to work remote
We got there Sunday afternoon, you were there within my heart
All week we cleaned and painted, constructed some, and pulled apart
We progressed by OJT, things moved from bad to good
Constructed some new furniture made of metal, screws and wood
We did whatever we could do, to give a helping hand
We were given thanks for everything; appreciation, not demand
My extra hands were helpful as was your help from up above
I left their home this morning with much progression fed by love.
As I'm headed home to NC, they are headed for Kentuck
Cancer took another, nothing at all to do with luck
Dalton's mother's father has passed to join you there
Both of you remain still here, memories in us all who care
The most important thing to do,
Is seek the One that created you.
Jeremiah 17:5 says we are cursed,
Whenever we put any humans first.
A bunch of misfits that's who we are.
Worshiping Musicians and Movie Stars!
Let one of them die or be in trouble like you.
And what is the first thing people do?
All of a sudden they want you to pray.
To the same God we ignore night and day.
Shame on me, shame on you!
To treat our Creator the way we do.
The only One that died for me,
Was the second member of the Trinity.
What can any earthly humans do?
When death starts calling me or you.
The usual silly thing we say.
Everybody bow your heads and pray.
Those who deny who God is today,
Will share the fate of "Anton Lavey!"
Even though we ignore Him most days.
He extends forgiveness to us anyway.
That's why the smartest thing we all can do,
Is seek the Creator of me and you.
Don’t tell me the moon is shining;
show me the glint of light on broken glass.
Anton Chekhov
the thunderclap
of breaking pane,
frightening.
splintered shards -
remains
of jagged lightning.
those tears I bleed…
my fist is raw.
blackness crawls
out of
the shattered hole.
a fearsome
flood of grinding rain
insane.
my knuckles sore
black and blue.
i’ve kicked a metaphor -
the dog. its bite
worse than the storm.
the glass-eye moon
reflects my mood,
outside the door,
where i was rash.
those tears i bleed
on a handkerchief
so I won’t forget
the glass…so I won’t forget
the glass…
2/22/2023
Writing Challenge - G Words
Constance La France - sponsor
"Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other"
~ Anton Chekhov
She brightens the skies with her twinkling eyes
As they fall on the pages presented to her
Offering her the honor of a poetry prize
To cause her to smile with satisfaction as she will purr
Poetry and prose lift up like she can sometimes
With emotions so pure they bring conviction
Whether they’re about romance, history or crimes
Addressing the affections with nonfiction
Either by poetic vise or prose that materialize
In dreamy lives who welcome our pen and paper
We will find the inspiration to always idealize
The ones we discover behind a life filled vapor
If it be my wife or the love of my life
The novel, the noun, the verb and the pronoun
I find ways to work through all my strife
With the delight discovered when we write down
Our love for the words we read
As well as the wife we heed
Together, they are a masterpiece indeed!
Reveal your other muse poetry contest
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
March 17, 2021
Dear Me,
At the ripe
and ready age
of 39,
it can still be hard to look...
at me.
I draw
charcoal portraits
of beautiful individuals
and I capture them,
especially
in the eyes.
Why do I
see strangers,
but I elude myself?
I have run
28 marathons,
won 5 small ones,
and countless 5ks,
where I found myself
along the way.
Why can't I see myself
in a piece
of vertical glass?
Jennifer Christina,
you are extraordinary:
from the inside-out,
from the outside-in,
to infinity,
and back again.
Wear the streak of gray hair,
Jennifer,
wear it proudly,
like Rogue from 'X-Men.'
My streak of gray
was painted on me
when I was 17.
I spent a weekend
in a psych ward
at the age of 22.
I fell in love
with the plays
of Anton Chekov
while I was there.
I learned to listen
to people,
and I learned to love
the shape of my legs,
the careful curve of my silhouette,
and the abstractions
of my heart:
an organ that keeps
me alive,
that I will never
hold in my hands.
This is a love letter
to myself
to read again
when I forget to smile
in the mirror,
and I fall back
out of love
with myself.
Jennifer, be kind to Jennifer.
Sincerely,
Me
Not much is known about the man named Anton Mogart.
His history is cloaked in darkness -
a darkness like his deeds.
He stole jewels and works of art.
Despite all this, his motives were not about his needs,
but more about a blackened heart.
Going by the name of the Midnight Man,
he lived with splendid wealth
until he met up with Moon Knight
and saw a great deterioration of his health.
Caught by Moon Knight as he stole a rare Monet,
he fell into the river, landing in a sewer
on that fateful day.
Hiding three days in that awful place,
he got deformed by sewage melting on his face!
He lost all that he had.
So then, stark raving mad,
he lived again in sewers
where trash became his treasure.
I suppose that hoarding stuff
was his greatest pleasure!
Not surprisingly, the Midnight Man
got cancer, but before
he met his death, he first tried to restore
the secrets of his trade to a son he’d never known.
He begged this son to still avoid crime.
So strange this was after all the things to his son he’d shown
In the end, the Midnight Man had his final fight.
He lost his life for that,
challenging Moon Knight!
Nov. 13, 2022
for Robert James Liguori's Moon Knight Friend Or Foe 2 Poetry Contest