Long Appraise Poems
Long Appraise Poems. Below are the most popular long Appraise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appraise poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep within the world so modern,
Lies a hidden road not trodden,
That states the obvious truth be told,
Printed in ink black and bold,
That lost in worlds of ecstasy,
Trapped in snares of misery,
That wars the rumors be told they sneered,
Now not alive a bray a’bird,
Gone are thoughts that thinketh straight,
And now to turn back it's O’so late,
Truth is gone, and truths be’come,
Lies run wild thru’ Urb and slum,
Prove me wrong this not happen,
But wrong they are yet shamelessly clappin’,
All so jolly good way they are,
From the Truth they stay afar,
Given in to the delusions be,
These strange worlds move so surreally,
That eats place a first a crown,
And Wannabe’s laze and fuss arroun’,
Talks about this and that and all that’s good,
Ney earn their money and cry for food,
When not given they stage a protest,
What they think is unjust!
But truth be told they sloth all day,
Sit around and laze away,
Their youths burnt dry, so willfully done,
When the brave reproaches them, they rant and away they run,
Sad to see, this is our reality,
Where all but’s none have time for thee,
Where life’s no respect and death appraise,
No wonder! They fit in with Artemis’ ways,
Tis’ are days of Noah’s time,
Filled with false hate and unwanted slime,
The hot is cold and the cold is hot,
They should be left to these ways to rot,
For no amount of reproach or preaching change they,
They want to remain that way,
So, let it be and move on in life,
Find a place to settle, build a home with your wife,
But when they come, O’Brave men of life,
To scandal your family and toss the knife,
Don’t debate them in anyway by words,
Take up your weapon and massacre they featherless birds,
Let them cry foul, whine and weep,
For they are into misery so deep, even the good that they do is evil so steep,
Let it be, let it be and protect your families,
From these so called ‘Justice Warriors of all the Sissies.’
What is well, when men of old just a teen,
Went to war for freedom’s freeing,
No scandal was found heard, no loose talk in the winds,
They wives waited for them, rather than sinned!
But if now one were off, to fight for justice cause,
In their absence does much spend, party’s all that splend.
Not all I say that way be done but are true, true indeed to none,
Tis’ a tragedy with my pen and ink I write and run.
ENOUGH!
I felt deaf from the ‘noise’ of information,
constantly butting, buzzing against my mantra of:
“The quieter you are… the more you… hear!”
At present, my lifestyle felt media manipulated:
tv, radio, newspaper, mobile, computer.. ad infinitum!
Besieged by endless emails, monopolizing mobiles,
beset by frenzied yaps from apps!
Enough is enough is….. ENOUGH,
I have to escape from the unrelenting hullabaloo.
Can the human brain endure so much information
and who am I, an individual thinker or group dancer?
However, relief sat just around the corner
as next morning I boarded the flight to Reykjavik.
A three-hour taxi journey with a taciturn islander,
people and communication diminishing by the mile
until finally a twig of a boat out to Ellidaey Island.
Boating and bobbing towards the uninhabited …hideaway,
an isolated jigsaw piece of land
off the southern coast of Iceland,
I appraise a small-boned building clinging to its side
with ‘RIDICULOUS’ scribbled all over it.
Someone had said Iceland was a niceland
where you could float free, peace and tranquillity!
But someone hadn’t warned me about…Mr Loneliness
Who was soon tapping me sharply on the shoulder.
So here I sit, three days into my week’s stay
in the island’s lodge, dubbed the world’s loneliest house,
where the only neighbours are passing ships and puffing puffins.
No internet, no tv, no electricity, no running nor strolling.. water
just remote, alone and contemplating my countenance
while wondering if God is lonely too!
Suddenly, clouds bump and bruise against each other
as they race away before the darkness snarls in.
Soon, night has sent in its stormtroopers
who land and splinter into shadow groups
while wind angrily sprints up to the house
bombing it with blockbuster punches.
Then rain happily joins in, machine-gunning the house
until the building begins to stagger and stumble.
I check my face and it is still in the same place
but I sit timorously trembling, tyrannised and terrified
while my eyes follow the house’s dimly lit path
as it wags its tail to the cliff’s edge
and jumps into the void of darkness.
But this poem is a broken wrist, with a twist,
as suddenly, my bones brittle and inside myself…..I faint!
What possibly could happen now?
But there it is..
the knock at the front door!
Ian Souter
In the blushing sunrise,
Rose gold and luscious lavender,
Promising that daybreak…
Stirs souls to hear God’s laughter,
Sings of all the pleasures…
Revealed when light erases the dark,
Leaving the night without the teasing
Stars, the quiet moon or the roaring
Winds, whispering softly over the life…
In the bluish pink skies,
Nature’s song pours out her peace,
In notes as gentle as the rainfall,
Moving the prayers to kiss
Away the melancholic dreams,
Filling the heart with a sense of relief,
Abandoning doubt and insecurity,
Telling the thoughts to believe, just believe…
In the heartbroken light,
Falling softly on the spirit who sees…
Remarkable joy, stirring wonders,
Who drift into the beautiful,
Silencing the nocturnal with all its fear,
Muzzling the ache that brings tears,
Inviting the music to play tenderness…
Through the moments who reach out,
Leaving glistening bits of stardust
Wherever the legacy of grace stumbles,
Testing the seas of yesterday’s
Pledge, the words sweating relief….
In the morning, appraise the dewlike
Frosting, cool with the night’s liquid tones,
Erasing the dusky destiny,
Provoking tempting truths, tantalizing
Tidbits of honesty, melting
Away the awfulness of a past dread,
Doubtful and shadowed by sadness,
Coloring the future in blessings,
Sweetest mercy silencing the heartache,
Destroying the hunger, a craving
For what comes alive when the past
Has subsided and hope brings its light…
Sunrise, with all its blushing beauty –
Sings softly, calling out with a music,
Meant for the stars to cling to,
A goodbye to the night, painted with glistening…
Rose and traveling through the dawn,
Like a lingering spirit who knows…
Forever is found in the most simplistic yearning,
Feelings who are always burning…
Seeking to embrace the lingering of a smile,
Painting hearts with heavenly hopes,
Histories acquainted with the most precious love,
Love so alive it sways, dancing quietly,
Amid the leaves of oaks and birth, softening
Strengths who need to be persuaded…
To listen to the beautiful who resonates through autumn,
The beautiful that seeks to bestow…
Her riches on the spirit who lingers on her earth.
Spring
A refresh of rain, falling down on them all
Un-quenching each leaf with tilt refrain
Linden shaped blossoms in spring do install
Such beautiful heaven that no one can maim
The burst of an orange, a tulip in bloom
Infusion of flowers, by meadow's festoon
The shine of an orchid, ever so stark,
It stays on my mind, long after dark
The Rose brings her beauty, as I swift appraise
And summer goes trailing with fever, her blaze
Summer
Heat waves arrive, wearing red flaming scarves
Bronzed cherub angels, by cool fountain spout
Yellow kissed flowers by summer's head count
The dahlias in love, with passions, don't starve
Bikinis and tank tops with summer tanned legs
Atop the hot board walk, skip trampling keds
Bleach blonds and ravens in tune with the fair
Coasters and bolsters and times without care
It's all in the season of sunshine and thrills
Where fireworks burst, o'er emerald hills!
Autumn
The seasons pass as my eyes behold
Soft change in hues when bending limbs grow bare
As colored leaves turn brown begin to fold
To finally scatter into Autumn's air
These days remembered on a road of leaves
Traveling aspen groves ablaze in gold
A Winter's chill before the Autumn grieves
Reminds that all life ends before its cold
And calls in voice its yearly subtle dance
As songs from birds now give a quiet note
While those in love hope colors will enhance
To feel chill from Winter when color dies
To bless the fallen leaves with sadder eyes
Winter
The Winter's cold comes dressed in velvet white
And spills its unique flakes upon the Earth
Scenes of beauty calm, open eye's delight
And cleanse the ground before the Spring's rebirth
I'll walk upon the freshest fallen snow
And see the trail of prints I leave behind
While knowing it reveals the path I go
I'll make a snowy Angel some will find
To cross the banks of white where depth is low
And sit among the quiet, Winter's brought
To see the landscape clean with softest glow
Shall bring to me another gentle thought
I'll lift my eyes to find a pictured scene
And marvel at the white that is pristine
written by Mystic Rose & Frederic Parker
9/20/14
Over and Over
Over and over when I am near an ocean
My mind becomes full of love and devotion
For sailors on ships who served and died
Comrades rest on ocean floor and do abide.
What I want to do each and every day
Is on an ocean beach shore begin to pray
About memories that are there for me
Of dead sailors souls which were set free.
Often, several times and again and again
Will think of the women as well as men
Giving lives so that victory may be met
For freedom on ocean as sun doth set.
On vast expanse of ocean new days begin
And many places on it we have all been
Maybe happy or with things hard to bear
Knowing our omnipotent Lord is there.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
This poem is to be entered into a poetry
contest in May regarding the subject of
OCEAN. Need your helps along with
comments and suggestions. You can
either make comments here or send me
an email via Poetry Soup or to my personal
email address at: jthorn5656@gmail.com
Iyase, Some great comments and concepts. My father died in an accident while on board the Aircraft Carrier CVA-11 on night of August 6th, 1956. No one ever knew
what happened. He was missing for 23 days in the Mediterranean Sea and his remains were found on the shore of the Island of Sicily. His body was buried at sea off the Island of Sicily in 200 feet of water. Services for him were conducted aboard the ship. His body
was identified by laundry markings. It was determined that both his neck and hip had been broken. He fell 80 feet to his death. He was last seen at 10 PM that night. A Naval Officer came tour door at home and notified us of his death. Another service was performed at the local Navy chapel located on Norfolk Operation Base (NOB), Virginia.
Just wanted to give you an idea of all that had happened. I was 15 on June 26th, 1956
and had three younger sisters and two younger brothers. I was constantly in search of a father figure all of my life. Being that you took the time to appraise my poem, thought that you deserved this explanation. Many poems are related to specific incidents and happenings.
Best Regards,
James Thomas Horn
Oh Sweet Island! Thou tropical paradise:
Miles have I traced upon thy ceaseless reach
Of ocean-choked shorelines owed Heav’nly device
Sheltering I, this marooned guest on thine endless beach.
Safe House against left alone misery;
Whereby, alongside thine evergreen canopies full
Darwinian mysteries perched high atop their home,
Do I maintain nourished in flesh ‘n faculty
And keep this wit sharpened when blunted dull
Should become elements awash reduced but to roam;
Added all, all for sake of thine increased covenance,
That keener my eyes and keener my tongue
When my throat succumbs thine euphoric abundance;
Pink spilled over warmth -
Else-wise myself, by self, selfishly by now would’ve hung;
For if not for that which is thy sun (may thy sun also hear praise)
My sight might yet be withheld those rare flockish friends
Who keep in time the shared sweetness of functioning words;
Therefore to thee, and to they of thee, whom of wing’ed realm I appraise
As reason unsought are frenzied neurotic ends;
True thanks directed thee and thy mystic splendors; thy talking birds.
Alas, sadly, not even thou distills lunar ascensions
By which subside hopeful rays in thy sobering night;
Nor be those which aviate above as homing pigeons
With beaks to carry silent pleas where may come ends to my plight.
Thus, this I ask thee; What good is time spent when time’s spent alone?
Yes, thou provides: plentiful shelter, plentiful warmth, plentiful food
As well as fiery fuel to fend off critters of strife –
But, this be thy kingdom, not mine. Here, I sit on a remembered throne
Where days threaten months threatened by years in which strangers brood –
Oh, Sweet Warden; Relinquish me! I beg thee on behalf of slipping sanity;
Let this rambling sentence end
So I, once again, may stand by my daughter and wife.
1/28/2017
Submitted for: Tropical Island
October is Dancing
she is a trap of joy for a mark
to those tunes tapping on line
stepping out in her black
before the white for a remark
for the dance shoes redefine
the effect of all the months lack
in the meantime at kitchen advancing
Old and young months were watchin' her
as she prance in peaceful steps on the dance floor
so cool and sizzling to hear up the need to confer
for fire to keep warm the weather and not burn for war
the joy and courage the months have in the year
which is the interest of their purpose counting days
to number moments and minutes of cheer
and the exposure and enrichment appraise
Serious music from funny act
labels young minds mischievous youths
how the hell's rain labels heaven's dews fire
and its own the curlers pure desire
that was a just lie tied up as a fact
to keep away from blowing hearts, truths
with which head for a new place sit upon
redesigned of little difference in old baker's apron
Knock knows knocks knotting knowledge
while whistles whisper whim whacking
villagers' vaults vulnerably via villains
bragging beyond boasting bossy bell
flooded flowers faith flying flaws
hiring hasty hatred healing headlines
retiring reunion's rights relieved repulse
sitting soothing stresses safe separately
Now the dance floor is a bouncing stillness
on a muting lousy sounds
jumping to dance but go off
whenever trials are seen as illness
death tricks set its hounds
that the hade may laugh
how we wish a new Odùduwà
but Yoruba is stumping on ìwà
Our shoes now become red
R.I.P to those bloods shed
The heroes efforts are seen
Remain forever in our green
The lights that can go dim
The lines and stanza in the hymn
May these effects be fruitful
Even though it's seen unlawful
Note: This poem is in memory of those that lost their lives in the peaceful protest of ENDSARS in Nigeria on 20th October, 2020. May their souls rest in peace
January 20 Scripture Meditations Based on Exodus 25-30
Key Verse – Exodus 25:2 Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR INVITING ME TO BRING YOU AN OFFERING
Thank You for inviting me to bring You an offering of praise
Such is a great privilege to practice by Your grace
Here am I acknowledging Your bountiful blessings of no dearth’s trace
Please accept my best without disgrace that perfection can appraise.
Thank You for inviting me to bring You an offering of humility
Such is a blessed, blissful, beautiful opportunity
Here am I receiving Your grants with sincerity
Please regard my submission to Your supreme sovereignty.
Thank You for inviting me to bring You an offering of sacrifice
Such is a meaningful event that truly edifies
Here am I responding to Your tender mercies which fully suffice
Please consider my faith according to Your Word that magnifies.
Thank You for inviting me to bring You an offering of joyfulness
Such is a festive moment I delight with willingness
Here am I worshipping Your Deity in the majesty of Your holiness
Please behold my gratitude with Your cheered-up gladness.
Thank You for inviting me to bring You an offering of obedience
Such is a solemn appointment scheduled by Your omniscience
Here am I keeping Your statutes with persistence, not with expedience
Please attend to my desire to glorify You with clean conscience.
Thank You inviting for me to bring You an offering of service
Such is a rewarding occasion I look forward to even as a novice
Here am I striving to fulfill Your commission with diligent practice
Please confirm my devotion with Your truth, mercy, and justice.
January 20, 2022
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
goin about
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
How fearlessly some charge into lust’s fervent flames,
Though they may burn to ashes and dust in those flames.
Oh, but the lengths to which lovers willingly go
Cursed by Eros sweet madness they must dance in flames.
Each day and each night craving that special delight
No matter if all else may soon burst into flames.
How he smolders and burns with passion to ignite
Her, know the fragrance of her sweet musk in his flames.
How she yearns for his arms holding her close to him
And the sound of their heartbeats at dusk in her flames.
Secret rendezvous, quiet chambers, their furnace,
With only each other’s charms to trust in those flames.
Sol sinks his mighty fire slowly into the sea
And their deep embrace is shadowed just as those flames.
In that furnace where they meet at last, both ablaze,
They exhaust and satiate with each thrust into flames.
It may be that one may appraise them with caution
And warn that they will burn in the gusts of loves flames.
But do they hold themselves in regret or wounded,
Spent, from tumultuous hours at dusk in those flames?
Carnal pleasures in life they have known, to be sure,
May be far better than being a husk in the flames.
Across the skies as meteors flare, so briefly,
All of us come to ashes and dust in such flames.
So alas, although I may be Theophilus†
I too succumb to the fires of lust, lost in flames.
†Theophilus is a mystery figure in the New Testament. Among many different views it is considered an honorary (academic) title. In Greek “theophilos” means “friend of God” or (be)loved by God” or “loving God”. [Source: www.wikipedia.org.]