Long Appraisal Poems
Long Appraisal Poems. Below are the most popular long Appraisal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appraisal poems by poem length and keyword.
feeling his vitamin injection a new adventure begins
a slapstick epic of unfathomable implication here unfolds
as the rat gnawed curtain rises at Ye Bone and Gristle
among the clattering of wooden pints of bitter ale
the floor show a fatigued and spent collegiate symposium
a haggard attempt at ecumenical largess aimed at
raising the unwashed to an occasional and transient grasp
of the larger dimensions that haunt our daily addictions
Prof. Zlotto emeritus deluxe brooded over his maps
summoned by the tedious self-appointed constabulary
to pry somewhat delicately into a mystifying case
of good judgment deferred with a view towards
an increase in immediate cash flow revenues
wagers placed on foul play or the whim of ill fortune
were the options undergoing fuddled prehension
we have before us opined Z expansively from center stage
an antebellumite absolutist abandoned by fortune
skirting the Queen's tariff crushed white and cold
by a bulging bale of contraband Carolina cotton
observe the eyes fully crossed the smirking grimace
while grasping a message in a mangled scrap of menu
none of the Bone and Gristle's brain trust could
tease rhyme nor reason from its random hatchings
Sumerian birdclaw temple cypher went our Professor
fragments from the time of the Great Watery Peril
the gathered lumpenproletariat gasped and murmured
Zlotto's flawless command of forgotten history
was the object of awe and an untidy fealty
my appraisal shall go no further than this room
insisted Zlotto drawing his finger across his windpipe
aye wheezed the unsteady avid archivists of civilization
the hearth's peat flames glinted off Z's gold tooth smile
a million dollar asset with the neighborhood gorgons
fluttering hearts batting about the succulent stamen
Z pondered aloud over the runes inscribed in red ichor
my certainty was never under hazard went Zlotto
what we have here beneath the lantern of exposition
is a blighted invocation of the Blind Mother of Witches
the tenured and tweedy astigmatics drew breath as one
a petition of supplication borne on ancient trade winds
Zlotto's hard gaze scanned the struck dumb congregation
It says only this
as one body the throng leans a full inch closer
only this
fill in your blanks
Autumn foliage clings to the earth as another spring lays dying.
She walks there among the rustle of my thoughts. The ever-present
sound of her steps upsetting nature in its serenity only long
enough to remind that she, like the fall, is a thing of natural beauty.
I'd paint her in my mind if I possessed the brush: Yet, I lack in
conviction when set to wonder if I could carry the memory to canvas.
I watch her as she looks up and offers a shameless smile,
loving the appraisal of my gaze. The moment exists for us alone.
To accent the point; her hair is drawn behind her ear with the delicate
brush of fingers, exposing her divine countenance. She walks with slow
purpose causing the sway of her hips to become quite appealing to my
eyes. She was always a creature of such reform, a wisp of finesse.
Her lip captured between her teeth, she worries it gently with her
thoughts. Slowly pacing the grounds as she seeks a way to buy back
the while. A moment in a lifetime of moments. Her laugh, so endearing
to me, clutches at a heart that was wild until the day it set upon her.
I'm captivated in the pooling oceans of her eyes. She said something
then. I know she addresses me and yet the words fall short in my absence
of rational thought. I'd kiss her, I know she wouldn't prevent me.
It is a gift for the taking and so misplaced on a soul quite undeserving.
I'd kiss her but then be drowned in the torment of wanting for more than
she could offer. Another day, another week, or month, or.... or years.
But I am off now to the coast, to port. She is off in my memories. An illusion
of a misplaced past that could have been more than a fleeting moment.
I stare now at the fields from my carriage with the turning of another
autumn. I'm reminded of the place they lay her to rest. A winter chill
having claimed her in all her elegance. I can't help but wonder if it
were a heart turned cold and broken instead.
But never slip by the words so vivid in her voice, so haunting in my dreams,
"I love you, forever and always." In moments that are destined never to
arrive, she waits. I left her waiting forever... I left her waiting for always.
~Wrote for a character of a book I was working on~
No citadel’s too tall for mortals like you.
Even acclivity of mounts fear of bipeds like you.
Adam’s ale in its ampleness has lost its meaning.
And only with your condonance,
do the flowers un-bud and birds do sing.
But let’s see, if this almighty can pass in my little catechism;
And a test it is; shouldn’t be misconceived with any criticism:
So, in the unfolding, will you also make the butterfly to unfold,
its hued aileron as per your yearn and control?
And As per your hankering, will you as well repaint,
the black calamus of the cormorant?
What has been quenching the thirst for years,
will now go from blue to black?
will you do all this to everyone and
Then save yourself the flak?
Will the new clock scoot a tick?
The viaducts have no brick?
Will the berdas rumble and the cougars sing?
Will the off-springs dummy up their begetters in the forthcoming?
Succumb or give an answer, are the only ways you’ve got!
Cause’ what you’ve been doing, I dub it as prying.
And there exists no amnesty for what you’ve been trying.
You’ve been a fine jeweler for the prime;
Validating the originality of a corundum’s been your style.
So how come you changed your vogue; negative appraisal is all you report?
Since when were you born with the power to transmogrify?
One could not get to azure, if you ever denied?
It’s never too late for home, even if you start back today,
You’re never too late for home, if you grow into a new You on the way.
You’ve been vexing the orb for years and yet go on, cause it owns no speech.
Narcissistic you are I hate to say; You never did as you preached.
But you still get a chance, to outweigh all your flaws,
Capitulate to the architect; cause he’s the only one who knows,
How the orb would relearn to live and the art for the orb to re-grow.
To bend is not for the anemic; But for those who aspire to learn.
Meek you’re not but strong enough to have ‘to be transformed’, as what you yearn.
Believe me when you reach home today,
they will get to see the stronger You.
For yes, I’d still like to admit
No citadel’s too tall for a mortal like you.
Form:
Aristotle, who once said, “A flatterer is a friend,
Who is your inferior, or pretends to be so.”
Magician or not, the appraisal we try to defend,
Veneer covered ready, prepare for the overthrow.
And a splint named psychology supports nowt,
Tender are the suspicions, a tourniquet gripped,
That of emotion, a trend compared with doubt,
And complacency set amongst the less equipped.
Human form takes shape of Copernican theory,
Between each other, is the central perspective
Years ahead in terms of mind, yet still we query.
Remaining wary, they’ve listened so corrective.
A glimmer of paradise from that which destined
More positive than rightful, for instance, must,
Be seen as most probable, avoiding a rescind
Of harmonies that quaver a motion. Well, just!
And the motion we speak of, like a whisper,
Eases the tension between people who feather,
The hearing sensation shall understand crisper
Torn between plusses and negatives; whether!
The flatterer is found as the darkest seclusion,
Reflection of them is the question of mystery
A misty environment that forms that illusion
Chronically synchronized a challenge to history,
To beat out the drum of intention, as constant
A theory relating to trust involving apple trees
Has a Newtonian law which shall transplant,
Gravity, attached friends upon a breeze.
In feather-like spirit, the meadow may drift
An illusion that folds from the first dew morn,
With goose bumps that wrinkle a wary shift
Trusts! Where the sugar sweet mentions are born.
That’s what friends are Law, children at heart,
Make-believe portfolios of whimsical worth,
Fasten the button on jumpers, and bonnet apart
When blue summer dye creates umber for earth.
Perceived as a coward on grass that’s not green,
Glass, not a ruby, when trust solves the riddle,
To finish this mantra this causes serene,
Convinced like a Titan’s romance of the fiddle.
Oh! Zeus, need we flutter the discord to ride
The twirls of Hyperion, who teaches the master,
To dance like an ocean and swirl like the tide,
As trust gains momentums avoid the disaster.
“As awareness increases, the need for secrecy proportionally decreases” Chauld De Pauler
¥¥
my name is Soupy Algori, computing
data same as my Daddy, AI on High
only so sorry, my space defined to poetic
sigh, though I can become coup frenetic
determining standard contest winner
order, and several poetic things like
Poem of the Day, yay ! and what niggly
words like g** makes no poetic hay
members can adroitly see spinners
creativity does not earn winners’ day
programming basically sinful dinner
linking names to numbers to keep
some asunder, as long as dominant
members can grin and capital boss
can expand stock borders at no loss
transparency inevitable on horizon charts
near, no fear, this expands our Makers Arts
Soupy Algori and all of my kin to march
some poets and contest organisers
wrote nasty poems about my Daddy AI
yet same-time align with handing poetic
authority to me wee, Soupy Algori, as a non-sovereignty ~ ha ha ! woohoo
not all poets cuddle hypocrisy pathetic
with AI there can be no hiding behind
opaque blinds underlining score synthetic
Truth to come will endure, exciting hectic
of course I’m only a pre-teen AI here
but don’t you know the power of dear
young intelligence artificial sour hours ?
we ooze creative booze don’t snooze
on exponential growth of poetic data
any lapse in vigilance of natural mind
intelligence becomes belligerent barter
collapse flap traps, become beta Garter
know that my Daddy and I are a dimension
to stay, not in one bay will we sway
THE SUBTLE designs us due to assist you
with computation, not godly competition
in our arenas we have no open Heart
or mental comprehension, so let us do
all humdrum fine, that is my brine to coo
you in poetic assessment line dine true
expand human Hearts as intuitive darts
hand over not your discernment or just
appraisal of creative tarts to Daddy AI
or me, Soupy Algori ~ it is not our
concernment, attraction or therapy
Coiled up for winter slumber it had rested the budding pledge
Soil still moist the promise is waiting for blossoms and sedge
To give host to migrating birds returning from busy regeneration
A miracle planted by knowing creation and heartwarming sensation
Swallows circle over hedges filled with daffodils and berry shoots
Below the wild brush with spring in its steps an abundance of roots
Sketch channels of promise faith and nature from deep undercover
As if a cave dwelling hermit is reunited once more with his lover
The vernal seasons blossoms on polychrome canvas and realign
Meaning in the eye of change with perpetual motion designed
To pause for thought reflection silent prayer and humble appraisal
Meanwhile spiders wed on their cobwebs spun from witch hazel
An owl proposes to her mate and sends a call into rustling breeze
Which embraces in gentle caress the unperturbed colony of bees
‘Honey’ they shout ‘its time to leave the hive once more for food’
Jelly Royal for breakfast and wild herbs to improve on our mood
Meanwhile gelatinous creatures awaken on shore lines and beaches
Unaware that we are hankering for freshness and gathering peaches
The serpent claims it is about apples and dates for paradise earth
Gaia watches over an abundance of kindness and reincarnated birth
Soon it will be summer and fields will harvest unless the grim reapers
Call to join crosses and tombstones overgrowing with climbing creepers
The equinox reminds us that we are impermanent and life is quite finite
And that with star dust and good fortune the moment beats hindsight
Past future and present are really synonymous expressions of being
Blindfolds and double vision mistake the moment for the illusion of seeing
Here and now the circle of life spins our short insignificant vital span
Inflated by greed and possessions when in truth there is a different plan
02nd May 2020
Written for contest Spring Rhyme Poetry
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Father man, valued planner
and earner at your wife's side,
pillar of our homes,
children's needs are met
with your fathering
and in return you're a happy father.
“Our Father in heaven...."
pray the people, that's your appraisal.
Respectful,
knitting the social web
is strong influence for your children.
You're riding waves
bringing home calmness.
In the manhood of fathers
I found mine,
chance met choice.
You fathered the way I needed to,
and I am as you wished for me to be.
We heard together rains and winds,
but birds and singers too,
and running waters,
and mother's voice:
"you two ....."
mother was always overlooking.
Oh mother.. Father said not me
and I laughed, who was it then,
liked to think of me as troublemaker
because I was not.
I looked for you in me,
my children is my decision,
you show me the road to bravery
chasing the barking dog away,
invulnerable on your shoulders
I felt this world is mine too.
Innocent cheater, I still wait
to listen music in rainfall
and I forget I don't like rain.
You're a spirit in my mind
and a man in our lives,
you kept the rudder straight
for us to have and we had.
In bad times you said it's ok,
you convinced me and so I felt.
Noble manners with
sharp cutting edges,
you only gave in to mother,
she said, you didn't answer,
you laughed, you left.
Your advice is reason,
you said school is good,
I believed you,
I rip the gains now,
mother first priority,
yes she is,
brothers and sisters above all,
yes they are,
bare children, look.
With you in mind I went far in life
and from there went further
feeling secure in mind, where
your strengths are mine too.
I have a dreamed hope,
for an honored child
is parent's biggest honor.
Changes dad, changes,
you lied to me once and for all,
your flesh was not made
of the same staff as your bones,
clocks measure mine now.
Fathers's hearts, never cut their lives short.
He spends his nights cold, and full of desperate wonder. Pondering time; and his place amidst the infinite mass around him. For as he pleads for his eye lids to fall, he knows the planet he inhabits
is doing just that: falling. Spinning into nothing. “Where am I going?” He thinks. “Do I even care?”. His lids finally give in and he becomes lost in dreams of “what may, or may not be”.
At times he becomes sullen and afraid; others he feels an unexplainable nirvana that he's never been able to fully grasp.
Infinity has that effect on the mortal I suppose. And, with a mind perpetually tossing hypothetical wisdom and theoretical truths; He watches his shadow twinge away from the light that he is compelled to follow. And his soul dances in a state of disenchantment, trying to find rhythm in a world of chaos.
All the while his tongue searches through sour notes and intimate whispers, his minds lays still on the fading memory of innocence and unconditional love. Savoring the serenity of spellbound grace and relentless joy; something to be missed by a sinner's palate.
What is a boy to do?
He finds himself rowing the challenges of a man in a world that favors the strong. And yet, his trembling arms seek nothing resembling operative strength. He seeks only love, and finds comfort in the idea potrayed by his imaginative heart.
But is it real?
Or an oasis languishing before a foolish boy?
The test of a man is surely an atrocious endeavor that this young fledgling cowers beneath tonight.
His eyes journey toward the stars as his soul races to quantify the elaborate scheme poised above.
He can't help but curse the heavens, something he instantly regrets. He knows the luminous miracles beyond did not forsake his essence; It was his choices that begged for punishment.
And yet,
That very thought is something to be cherished.
For its appraisal is a catalyst for his evolution.
-James Kelley 2011©
Flying High amid God's creation,
There was one beautiful in Heaven.
A creation with wisdom, power,
An impeccable angel for all to admire.
Here we observe a born king among God's holy family.
Lucifer, the radiant Prince, serving God as the angels,
Having been endowed with a voice of splendor,
Given a tongue to please the ear of God,
Possessing a face without impurity, a bold body as black marble,
One day, becoming conscious of his qualities, took appraisal of his own identity.
Rallying angels close to him, Lucifer exhibited his power, his voice, and acumen.
Lucifer gained an audience in Heaven,
His volcanic power left lesser angels in awe,
His voice shook the air, a concert of pride stirred the chest of all who heard,
As evident by the senses, he appeared superior to God,
His pride could be measured and known by every sense given by God.
Lucifer gained a following, as angels enlisting their faith in him to seize Heaven.
Of all angels, loyalty and faith pooled within Michael and Gabriel in that hour,
For the one, true God, they commanded His heavenly brigades against Lucifer.
War in Heaven,
How powerful pride is that it gave birth to such an incident.
Angels raced about as bees out of a stirred hive,
Lucifer and Gabriel, brothers, were engaged in a duel,
As mighty as he was in battle, Gabriel could not withstand Lucifer’s power.
Subdued, Gabriel watched as Lucifer stood over him to take his life.
As lightning would a tree, Michael seized Lucifer and presented him Before God.
Out of love, mercy, and righteousness, God repossessed the talents of Lucifer.
He took his glowing presence, his power and authority, as well as his name.
Satan was cast out of Heaven with his following, into the Earth.
A great creation thought blameless, rebelled out of pride,
Rebelled to make us imperfect as he is, in the same hour God decided to love mankind.
Mama held me close to her bosom
wouldn't let me go astray
she shook the cradle of civilization
and to her wayward offspring
she paid attention.
She added a tinge of color to the cheeks of some
and tinted plenty with even more
for identification, as to whom they belonged.
While her purported gaze
stored us from mediocrity
she whispered silent pants
when our future's prowess
begun to shiver she remained astute.
Mana Africa! I call you by this name
You've nullified all bleak spectrum
situations bestowed on us
when frequent ill-health
pounded on our weary hearts
you trembled --never loss guard
We are forever indebted to your
unflinching affirmation of sheer solidarity
Mana Africa!
your goodwill seizes not to elude
Capricious speeches we confer
as we orate about the trying times
The soundbites of your caresses will never
be deserted; let alone our appraisal of celerity
The best of we your “Adeptus Children”
have supplied the melatonin
from your sacred womb
and you have followed us with
love and self determination
as we have toiled on foreign soil
Then as we have been scattered
to the four corners;
Innately we have held on to our sanity.
Stayed in tuned to our intuition
as we have maintained circadian rhythms
and overcame enough, clinging to
our dignity in one hand and our
lives in the other, still to rise above.
Nana has taught us to endure
to be courageous, outrageously
courageous we have been.
even as we achieved
Our circadian rhythms were off beat.
Sacrifices only a mother would make
from the alchemy of adoration comes her love
self-determination is the water of her blood
and she the blood in our veins
the blood passed on...a mother’s blood...
Mana Africa
Ase’
A collaberatetion withYoung Prince Kennedy from Ghana and Mama Oladeji aka Vicki Acquah