Long Appraised Poems
Long Appraised Poems. Below are the most popular long Appraised by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appraised poems by poem length and keyword.
I stand freezing while our eyes gazed,
Your smile melt my frozen look down,
My world appears new: differently big,
Lacking raw tease in gay enthusiasm.
Smile
Differs
In strength's sight,
To teasing grin, lust looses...
Reaching out for only pleasure seeking-
Smile.
Blessings meet, hearts melt.
First gaze tied both up on belt.
That lust; to inch, smelt.
All ways lead on to no end appraised,
Blindly to the value in different frown,
Of each world, by trust earnestly swig,
To benefit both world's due sarcasm.
End
To end,
Values better.
Half of love affair's plight,
Magnetic lashes view opposing
End.
Blessings meet, minds fused.
Manage difference, flaps abused.
Left tongues confused¡
As we come over for the real vices,
Heart to heart excitedly confessing,
Heart's past in sighs of its assaults,
Foes held unto for long as secrets...
World
Whirl past,
Past hits present,
To lock up bright future,
But forgiveness sings of one
World.
Openness meets us,
Together heart-heart discuss...
To curb raging fuss.
Then we open up updated slices,
Possibly coming forth assessing...
Determined heart's healing vaults,
Of possible Jesus-Judas deficits.
Truth
Lay dead,
Like deaf's hearing...
Accustomed to gestures,
Tempting awaken awareness,
Truth.
Openness meets truth,
We chose GIVE NO EAR to sleuths,
You been my true Ruth.
FLAT EARTH VS. GLOBAL
I don't believe the earth is flat
I'm not a scientist but it's a sure bet
That no matter how far one travels
No one has fallen over the edge as of yet
I often wonder if the flat earth society
Have memberships around the globe
How would they explain that phenomenon
The truth would sooner or later unfold
My sister and brother in law
Regularly hike the "Abby grind"
I'm sure when they are climbing, the flatness
Of the earth is not prominent in their mind
Though the flat earthers have some very good points
Like the earth is 71% H2o
Maybe in a sense it is flat
Because it's not carbonated, we know
When I was in school we learned the earth is round
But I'm from Sasatchewan, born and raised
And my world is definitely pancake flat
That's the situation here, that I've appraised
DJC Dec 23/25
When Alex was tasked to pen eight straight A’s for an animate cause
He adjusted the angle arched forth in awe and anticipated attunement
Ached with attrition and attributed an array afore attaching amends
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please do not absolve me from my shortcomings misgivings and sins
Torturous anguish needs the suffering of suffering to light a candle
Of hope to assuage waxen heartbreak and all-consuming darkness
The allure of kindling a fire to burn unpleasant memories and gloom
Auspicious temptation to bury the past under a cover of dusty deceit
Amounts to nothing but awry dis-balance on a false screen of imposture
When understandable appetency promises fake lightness and ease
Remember that self-denial is far more atrocious than dealing with pain
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Assignments had never appealed without accompaniment of adroitness
Alex felt an ambitious affectation arising in aplomb to alleviate anxiety
‘Angst anger aberration abhorrence’ he appraised an arbitrary approach
‘Abuse addiction archaic arbitration apparition’ appealed its approval
‘Anhedonia analgesia anathema alluvium’ availed an asylum for absentia
‘Bemusedly boring’ he bellowed in bewildered bondage to belligerence
A barrage of baggage beckoned for the bragging breakaway bastard
Before he was befallen by braggadocious banter and blacked out appeased
Contorted dreams echoed devilish frustration garrotting the . . .yodelling zombie
28th October 2019
I had financially fallen on very difficult times,
and had to sell many of my valued treasures,
including twenty rolls of uncirculated dimes.
To get the best bids, I'd taken great measures.
Most valuable was a glass sculpture of Earth,
but only be sold without taking it apart.
There had never been an estimate of its worth
and letting it go at auction was breaking my heart.
I had it very clearly stated in the contract deal
that once the gavel struck, it belonged to the buyer.
The status of my insurer signed it with his seal,
and that information was revealed in an auction flyer.
The bidding began and only one paddle was raised.
Four thousand dollars was insulting for this artwork,
although the Baccarat sculpture was not appraised.
I looked pleadingly at the patient auctioneer, Kirk.
What a calamity if I didn't receive a larger price.
My hopes suddenly began to plummet to a new low
I had no belongings left to sell, nothing to sacrifice.
I didn't know where to turn after this financial blow.
Then, a phone bid came in at ten thousand pounds
"Going once, twice.... SOLD! " Kirk had done his job.
But the buyer backed out. I asked, "On what grounds?"
They sent me to an office where I met a guy named Bob.
He said the bidder hadn't read all the terms of shipping
and that he was afraid the fragile sculpture would shatter.
Legally, the sale was binding. The buyer must be tripping
if he thought I'd let him out of the purchase, it didn't matter.
A deal was a deal, and he was now the brand-new owner
of A Baccarat global sculpture that weighed nearly a ton.
He didn't read the fine print, and now he was a groaner.
Finding a way to move that gigantic piece that he'd won.
Later that day, I received a cashier's check for the money.
The eccentric buyer wanted it for his wife, and to be gifted
to her on her next birthday. Turned out, he thought it funny
and would install it in their greenhouse if they got it lifted.
Coldly calculated
deliberately intended
and extended
terror-inducing violence,
physical and/or verbal,
is motivated by chronic anger and fear,
but also sometimes, on a larger scale,
by beliefs that vengeance can be,
or at least eventually become,
ecopolitically justified means
toward an egocentrically therapeutic outcome.
Corollary: Oppressive nihilism
could help me one day
feel and think and breathe
justified denialism OK.
Any parent who has been excruciatingly appraised by teenagers,
each of whom believes it is his or her,
or whatever in-between, duty
to update your more cooperative tolerance skills,
hopefully will have learned
that both belief in vengeful nastiness
and its nihilistic disvaluing win/lose
0-sum degenerative corollary
are errors in ecopolitically healthy
and correct win/win
co-impassioned judgment,
peace-making inside and outside,
not inside v outside.
I had a dream to dissolve my body
Into harmony and song.
Not to be appraised course or consequence,
But the ecstasy for which I long.
I’d seen sparks pique, however, now they taunt
Ere each breath, each glare guts me.
I’ve been left to wonder, will passion pass,
Or will destiny cage the free?
Physical facades that guzzled my breath—
I loathed am’rous transactions—
Abandoned me gasping, grasping for air.
Throttled, I lay in satisfaction.
For today I gazed on as swarms of flies
Amassed stale, dead to the floor
Induced, I grin, inhale seriatim
Plaguing every lung, every pore.
For salt and terror could never hatch wood,
And doors are never undone.
Time festered and birthed a derisive spring
Which befell the immolated sun.
BORN IN THE MIDDLE EAST
By Eddie Egbelo Ntebri
Alas thy has been born; from thy dark mother’s womb
To inhale the venomous air from thy bleeding ambiances
What a conclave; concealed by dusty decisions
Dejection and pity shelters thy unpolished skin;
Leaving thee with regrets of a propelling heart
Thy nostrils filled with the breathe of human plasma
Thy ears shielded by war songs
Oh! What a derisible human nature
Fractioned by poverty and hunger
Petitioned by freedom and peace
Oblige by blood and sickness
Appraised by saboteurs and oppressors
Dictated by tyrants and impostors
Delivered by a murky womb
What kind of life awaits thee?
A life of rumble and hurricanes; surpassing the humble spirit of sleep
A life that beseech the passage of horrid times
A fountain life of crisis in melodies
A life that grips fear as the solitary courage for survival
A life that expects a bullet in every sunrise
A life of dismay and objection
Hold back thy tears from its drip
Human history surely needs to change its course
In-plant within thee the spirit of believe
Hope lies beyond the valleys
Sing songs of triumphant victories
Because thy blood will surely be thy peaceful covenant
The sharp suited man
With the Legal Degree
Looks back over years
To pass judgement on me.
While he was getting drunk
In student Uni bars
I was uniformed and fighting
Our country’s various wars.
The greatest impulse
Is the will to survive
To stay in one piece
To get out still alive
If you've not been there
You just can't understand
How fear and anger
Can get out of hand.
A split second’s action
In the heat of a fight
Is now being appraised
As being wrong or right.
Now we’ve both reached
Our late middle age,
Him on his thousands,
Me existing on minimum wage,
Plus the long service pension
They’ve been paying of late,
Not exactly bounteous millions
Reward for serving the state.
And he has his portfolio
Of cases, no win no fee,
And he is trying to make
A criminal of me.
In thanks for the security
For him and his ilk
That our actions earned,
Now he’s taken the Silk,
He puts our actions
Under the spotlights
As a campaigning lawyer in
The cause of Human rights.
I was a volunteer so I don’t
Expect or need his gratitude
Just maybe some compassion
To temper his attitude.
I scream in pain at the memory
Of things that I’ve done
While he waxes fat on
The fees that he’s won.
It’s a strange justice that
My efforts set him free
To harass and pursue
Combat veterans like me.
That sharp suited man
With the Legal Degree,
With the benefit of hindsight,
Passes judgement on me.
This is not about me, but the many Veterans who for years have lived under this threat. Nobody condones War Crimes, but we do ask for a level playing field and equality of treatment.
Soul-are
Is my soul conscious at this time?
No further question marks in asking
as the query is itself the answer
tentative and playful statement
of intent of letting go solutions
to a problem which is not
The conscious soul
There is an ‘is’ somewhere
out there in there and
where they meet when
is and when they not
No definition and it is
at the point and time
the fleeting flowing moment
ever changing change
‘My’ is longing and belonging
when the meaning wanders
me in fragments wholeness
wonderment and expectation
pondering what’s mine
possessions baggage lightness
entitlements and freedom’s safety
When I am and not am and both
and stand and fall proceed
my journey un-arrested
‘Soul’ my essence source
alone conjoined the Universe
en-lived en-storied
told untold narration from within
without because of why
and how my circles spin
spiral radiate alive and morbid
mortal where the crossing
exit point and destination
questions not what there if now
is after momentary permanent
impermanence for ever lasting
going gone beheld in truth
‘Conscious’ of the contradictions
compliments of contemplation
complementing opposites and syntheses
polar angles sides perspectives
hidden exposed below the surface
and above the tidal mark
of scion’s collaborated offspring
consciousness of consciousness
transcendental comprehension
and awareness of what can
can not be understood
‘At’ where at when at
is lost and found and lost again
no at without the it and as and I
attending context inconsistent
alterations wrapped in time
location in perceptions
‘This’ that there is here
for now and when it is
and gone just when the past
has changed from present
to the future this and
present past and yet again
is what there is appraised
forgotten passed surpassed
uncommented in meditation
upon reflection feeling thought
‘Time’ so much so little just enough
and left beyond the time of time
when time has come will go and stay
forever when my consciousness
which was has gone
20th May 2016-05-16
Contest entered: Is your soul conscious at this time?
No Conclusions, THE PROCESS OF PAINTING ***
Not often between lines.
Crossing lanes. Consuming spaces.
Ordering gray shadows
Like shaded fog or misty traces —
In a measure of displaced displays
Of reality’s clarity
In impressions or abstractions,
To emphasize the building theme — with
The colors smudged or stippled or stroked long
Outlying and blending — cautiously —
Of as if themselves in a trance,
Running away
Circling off the canvas;
A rhapsody of shapes forming,
To be perhaps perceived,
Playing hide and seek —
If viewed in a turning to upside-down,
Or then seen from a look far off
From another side, across the room,
As if from beside some seaside beach
Of the moveable imagination
Of possibilities, yet a stroke by stroke
Closer to the finished effect —
To be appraised and lauded, at that exhausted,
But nevertheless, rejoicing end illumining —
Witnessing, according to open examination
Of life scenes below, beyond, or high,
Blended in new colors
Often strangely named, to
Guess their nature by their new pseudonyms:
Like Earth’s Crust Brown or
Baby Fair Yellow Hair.
The painting
Now ‘till forever will be
Beheld hung up somewhere, (or
Kept back in the black of a closet’s corner floor)
Where it stays, not resting; not still!
But running
Through time’s approaches to
what whatever’s passing popular in art interpretation.
Painting after painting,
Whipped up in the winds
Of a viewers’ risen remembrancs—
Spirit to Sight
Picture to Touch
Art to Power
Spurring minds and moods into possibilities of
Re-seeing journeys
Into themselves through this painting
Always being as if magically moved
Through an instant
Lost, then
Re-addressed.
————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 9/27 - /21 rewritten d12/24\2022
Glory to God…