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.
The woodland's sights and scents add a piquancy to the affair
By the moonlight's inky, starry gaze, so fleeting to retain
To dawn's fragile light shadows benignly filtering through
The damp, earthy undergrowth a mossy bed convenient
An ample, rough bark, redwood tree and gnarled, dry spreading roots.
A humble haven for primal, abandoned, wanton display
The foliage green canopy conceals a multitude of sins
Anton, my lover, you are the saviour of my heart and soul
Truly I love to breathe your masculine scent and hair
Struggling to restrain my appetites when you are nearby
Alone I desperately yearn for you, it's my private fear
But today I am ecstatic , for you have proposed to me
To imagine having you all to myself in body and soul.
Anton, I shall prove my love for you is of the constant kind
All those sacrifices we have made could surely only bind
Let the headiness I feel pirouette me into your arms
To feel your consuming ardency continue on and on
I love our bit of heaven we experience when alone
Continually let us revive that special passionate spark
Passions do fade allocated to dusty memory banks
But my love so rejuvenates me as we meet every day
My dear Anton I am afraid to live this life without you
I want you to reiterate that you feel the same for me
Totally enveloped in your entire world implicitly
Once an old fortune teller asked me to cross her hand with gold
As she had a precious gem of knowledge to impart to me
Her vivid, streaked, carmine red mouth grinned amiably
As she tightly held my hand and peered at my outstretched palm
Perusing it lengthily said advantages there would be
"Look into my eyes, oh yes I see a grand passion madam"
Seeing my doubtful gaze, she said "it is all here in your hand"
"You must tell me when shall it be" I vocally did demand
"Patience, soon, very soon, the man is quite a suitable match"
Excitedly I jumped for joy "in life you mean", I questioned
"No, never that, it shows an equally passionate pair".
It isn’t the voice of Aristotle, Plato, Shakespeare or Anton Chekhov riding down red square. It isn’t the voice of Adolf Hitler rumbling underground or Dwight D. Eisenhower building construction in the town.
It is not the voice of Woodrow Wilson, Ron De Santis, Ragan or Trump shouting from the podium. It is not the voice of Barack Obama, King Charles the III, Hillary Clinton, Theresa May, Nicola Sturgeon, Hallie Jackson, or policeman Righty Righty, running around the town on his European motorbike issuing traffic tickets from left to right.
It is the voice of reason crying out from the slump. It is the voice the you hardly hear and it is a voice that you hardly can bear. The morning whispers and the evening shouters speed through the town shouting out a message where destiny is bound and Greek philanthropist with money to spear rebuild the culture to reestablish the age of reasoning. But not too many people embrace it.
It’s contextual and it’s deep, and it put the paparazzi to sleep in a cage beneath the ground constructed with a long corridor stretching across six countries border and the center of the post is about to explode it’s the voice of reason baked in a can waiting for the conscious one to settle the squirms.
I don’t know what you are hearing and what you are currently sharing, you can either reason with sense or you can sleep with cats, dogs and lions in the den. The tiger and the baboon are waiting for you and Giraffe with its long neck is watching you but the voice of reason is listening to you.
There are some sixteen century markings on the Vatican chart and it is written in tiny markings, you have use a magnifying glass to read them, it is the voice of reason speaking to you and it is the voice of reason telling you what to do. Reason with the voice; try to understand it and you will know which way to roll the dice. The voice of reason does not lie; It is the voice of reason on which you must rely.
Me: Since Samhain I have been chatting with Satan on Skype..On this date he celebrates his fall from grace..
Satan: Thank you Ken..You look marvelous today..What is your routine? You haven't aged in years...Is it diet and gym, the ladies and your erotic poetry?
Me: You are way too kind..(blushing)
Satan: Really, I enjoy your sense of eroticism, you have a fondness for the ladies I see..You should read "Justine" by my friend the Marquis de Sade..In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice...
Me: Are you saying it is only through pain one can arrive at pleasure?
Satan: I'm saying you are unhappy because you desire things that cannot be..That's what desire IS, the need for what we cannot have..It's called greed...
Me: I have nothing to fear here..
Satan: Well Ken, there's always the truth..Maybe peace is acquired by the currency of loss..You are in love with perception..I have many friends here in hell with me you may have heard of, Anton Lavey, Aleister Crowley, Adolf Hitler among others..You should meet them..
Me: No thank you, I prefer to "Fear and Tremble" like Kierkegaard..I was taught your greatest truth was convincing the world there was only only one of you..
Satan: You know God loves you..
Me: Is that why you take interest?
Satan: You seek a measure of comfort from Women..Don't you know that love is the laziest theory for the meaning of life?
Me: But was not Faust saved in the end by the love of a woman?
Satan: I will not elaborate on your misconceptions..
Me: I'm just an ordinary human being with flesh, blood and bones..Nothing hard to decipher.. I wish for women and have needs..
Satan: They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions..Charming saying really..I say it is paved with intriguing questions...
Me: It is late, I have to go Mr. Satan...What time is it?
Satan: How much time do you need?
Me: No thanks..lol I have to go....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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
In forgotten fields of green,
Where laughter echoed, wild and free,
I chase the ghosts of childhood's dream,
And whispers of yesterday's sweet theme.
Sunday morning, bright and fair,
Church bells chime, with love and care,
Father's prayers, a gentle guide,
We're lost in warmth, where love resides.
The Lord's guidance, a beacon bright,
Leads us through life's plodding night,
In innocence, we took it as truth,
God, the answer, in our childish youth.
In the light of Christ, we found our way,
The church's teachings, guided us each day,
Our hearts, pure and open, received the light,
And in its warmth, our spirits took flight.
Born from innocent wombs, lost to the world's sight
Forgotten by parents, left in endless night
But in the haven of love, we found our way
Cherished, nourished, and flourishing, come what may
Our minds and hearts, fed by love's gentle hand
We blossomed, grew, and accepted, in a foreign land
Through trials and tribulations, we found our voice
And in the love, we discovered our heart's choice
God prospered through the pain, the tears, the strife
And in the darkness, love became our guiding light
We rose above the ashes, like phoenixes born
And in the love, we found our truest form.
I miss the gentle haven, the cradle of my past
The mother's arms that held me, though not of blood or birth at last
The scoldings, rebukes, and strictness, a discipline so true
The rod that guided me, when naughty, back to you
I miss it all, the haven, the place, the loving care
The sense of home, of belonging, that's no longer there
I miss you all, the ones who took me in, who made me whole
The ones who loved me, disciplined me, and made me soul.
© Anton Mamboanesu (aka Créatif Word)
Prince in nawab's costumes
Shouted in the dark Proscenium,
-Who's there, bequeath thousand gold coins
among the poorest citizen of my domain
Did anyone find those words?
breath-Stop flare, somebody sneeze somewhere
a cat under any seat in this empty auditorium
couple of rats are chewed by her, maybe.
Now deep blue night surrounds the stage
Who left Shaw's set long ago today
Tagore is waiting for next team yesterday
Alas! ‘The houses of cards collapsed
The king is always in the company of the circus
dark has own sounds but yet here some other cry
and say: It's not a costume, it's a dress, sir
-Nabab?
There's a table in the dark brown darkened green room
The craftsman left the corner and sat up.
Prince is still in nawab's mood, -Nabab,
Are you still here?
- I couldn't pay rent last three months
so I thought to spend the night hiding in this room,
to sleep well in comfort today, after last six days.
I heard your voice, and here to watch you, sir.
- Is my voice still so well-known?
-You don't know, who know not you declaim
To be, or not to be; that is the question;
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer; ...
- I haven't had a dialogue in twelve years
even Nobody said to say
Shakespeare, Shaw or others
Chekhov, Ibsen, Strindberg all are in my heart
I came here behind everyone to perform unaccompanied
But, Nabab, in your jeopardy, why didn't you tell me once
The craftsman Nabab, lean his head down and be quite
Prince smiles and speak out in nawab's voice
-Yes. Ho, ho! Oh, so you too, Nabab, get know
In the flow of time, the Nawab has gone far away!
Ages ago!
Disguised and cold and lonely but selfish and willing to continue on your own account for
your own good and the meals and dollars and careless thoughts are all wasted on you
because of my own cold weary disguise that I wear because the truth inside of me is far
more scary and hidden and worrisome to me and I hate your dog's endless annoying barking
and the fact that you let him lick your face and make no protest perhaps that tells me
something about you and your willingness or more about me and mine to forgive and forget
and to fear the rejection or is obsession and not even you of love and protection and
anything new that may wander into my life and destroy all the boredom and strife that is
hidden deep dark within and reject all my childhood and sin and detest all the lying and
games and the life and the fact that the one that I loved was my wife who worked me over
the same as the rest and put on my shoes and my Sunday's best and tried to keep plodding
along the long trail for anything something that would persist and prevail and like
weather that changes my moods of the day the way that they come and they go and the wind
and its blowing and failing to move anything living to something better or more in-tuned
with the living and all of the life that I'm living is still beating and deceiving and
wishing away all the hairs that turn gray and the senselessness of the way of the day and
I cannot say why god has projected this life down on us that we did not ask for and turns
us to rust.
*** Thanks for reading... Anton - www.foesofprose.com ***
Form:
When love is not enough
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.
Love is cruelly struck!
In infatuation, they had met by chance and nothing
about them made sense, Anton was well educated
Maria could 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, this 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 bad 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.
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.
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
After a hectic stressful day
Some time for ourselves every day
Doing that which gives joy in every way
Few moments of happiness and gay
Every one should pursue some passion I say!
Hobbies keep boredom away
Passions drive stress away
When sad passions provide a way
They bestow joy without delay
Every one should pursue some passion I say!
When passions become profession and pay
Our work seems like a play
We are exhilarated full day
Success automatically comes our way
Every one should pursue some passion I say!
When body is aged, hairs are grey
When our strength does betray
Our passions like morning sun's ray
Prevents darkness and dismay
Every one should pursue some passion I say!
Childhood, kids should not fritter away
For nurturing talents set aside some time every day
Pursuing extracurricular hobbies keeps them gay
Boosts self-confidence in every way
Every child should pursue some passion I say!
Some love music, some in painting feel gay
Some love sports, for some in poetry happiness lay
Inner joy keeps illness at bay
Advantages of hobbies do outweigh
Pursue some passion without delay!
17th March 2021