Long Astuteness Poems
Long Astuteness Poems. Below are the most popular long Astuteness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Astuteness poems by poem length and keyword.
This effervescent appetite
To cuddle and huddle
Your warmth and plum;
Your bush, green,
Wild life and natural sunshine
A craving, gushing down
Like a torrent of water
From a million feet of water falls;
A reminisce of a colorful dark night
Of passionate bliss, chatter and laughter
Under thatch roof and hut
Of sacred fingers dipped
In palm oil with yam
Our resonant voices
Saturated by the sting
Of fresh palm wine
And the spike
Of blazing tobacco pipes
In the African twilight.
Like a lost sheep,
A million stars and diamonds
Cannot eclipse this natural feeling
And yearning to retort
To the bright days of our ancestors;
Bright days of indurate astuteness and purity
Days, I long to kick-start,
Inflame and reignite;
Bright colorful nights
Of our mundane commune
With our ancestors...
A million stars and diamonds
Cannot eclipse this bright
Colorful nights of ancestral commune;
Bright, dark, illuminated nights
Of rebirth, renewal and regeneration,
To:
Vacate this gnawing feeling
Of voicelessness, void and vanity
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness
assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault afoul
affable affinity and affectionadumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,
although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,
and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored
autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals
acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance
addict adrift afloat anchors away
along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration
against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite
acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable
any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted
alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant
acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.
To all who have been faithful, and also those who’ve sinned,
everything is meaningless; it’s like chasing the wind!
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun;
seeing what I had achieved from all my hands had done.
My work became grievous, so much that I hated life.
I realized nothing was gained through all of my strife.
Goods and achievements come from envy of the neighbors.
Comforts and advancements are results from their labors.
Following every generation, there would be more;
each succeeding will be displeased with the one before.
I’ve applied myself to understanding astuteness;
comprehending madness, as well as foolhardiness.
It’s better to admire with the eyes if you’re able,
than to covet something with want that’s insatiable.
I’d prefer to have one handful of tranquillity;
than to have two handfuls of ceaseless hostility.
Based on Ecclesiastes Chapter 3
I recall by chance the astuteness of rain
When the thin smoke from charged pulses of cold haze
Befriended the weeded way . . .
Leering further into the viscera of the village,
Clouds of old beginnings heaved potent sighs,
Loud, frenetic and full of powder.
I revelled in the warmth of acid lightning,
Quick to mirror the village in its own image.
The grey breath was intense,
Fusing teethed mirth with grim spheres.
Then came the vitrined harmony of fleeing spectres!
Tricks were revealed.
Tenebrous paths came to light.
And the rumps of sensuous fowls stood stark
Before the reality of weaned souls.
I recall lighting up a cigarette.
Adding to the atmospheric smoke,
I held on to the banter of coyness, flat,
Resolute, and with rummaged blessedness of initial stages
Blending well with the greed of May.
The best way to describe myself:
is this insightful awareness
of being too attentive and perceptive
in the middle of conversations;
anticipating words before they are spoken,
astonishing others with my answers...
and my concepts don't offer advice,
but rather a view that some would condemn!
And ideas conglomerate like hardened clay,
to immortalize all thoughts solemnly,
to unite them with a fate of eternity;
and their essence is totally congruent,
not confounding doubt and truth...
conjugating sentences into paragraphs,
to make them conduct an intense light,
through which hope can't condole wittiness,
but conceive a concerted play!
They resent me for my ideology,
and conjure up an effortless idiocy;
and unaware of their idiopathy,
their schemes become so ignominious...
when they can't decode my idiomatic astuteness!
And however apparent is their hypocrisy,
they stammer at my insightful awareness
and see me as...stubborn, hostile and averse!
Perhaps I have exerted excessive cautiousness,
not sneering as they did shamelessly; why do they accuse me
of being rebellious, illusive, repugnant and impervious?
None of these traits make up my personality; and what
is the cause of their enmity towards me...
not complying to their standards of eccentricity?
I put on no guise and avoid turning into a gullible person en masse;
and armed with insightful awareness: I discern every enemy's plot!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Creativity given to a pen
moved by a thoughtful man,
divulges ideas with a steady rhythm...
not minding noises, just writing what pleases him.
Find him dreaming on a deserted island in the Adriatic Sea,
laying on a soft blanket woven by patients hands;
see him wearing classic, dark shades seen in a famous movie...
implementing thoughts too sober for pretense.
Creativity given to a pen
guided by his swift fingers in constant movement
composes another poem with a new arrangement;
why is he a prisoner of his own den?
Have a conversation with him on a breezy noon,
share his favorite drink, which is a burgundy wine
made from local grapes dangling on the vine...
he will explain the realistic tone of his lampoon.
Creativity given to a pen is to express
with artfulness and astuteness each mode;
read his works and try to unlock his code...
you' ll be amazed at what you'll find in your quest.
Second creation of delicate flesh,
lured by the Serpent's astuteness,
why did you promptly reach for that apple
and invited me to taste it and eat it all?
Linda, didn't God warn you to keep away from that tree?
Woman, once so sinless, beautiful and full of liberty:
you brought ruin to our sun-illuminated Paradise;
now storms rage and meadows are stripped of all flowers.
Our Creator took a rib from my body with good intention,
to give you life and companionship, and make you my possession:
bearing from your womb many children...multiplying in due time,
but His plan couldn't be brought to completion with a cunning lie.
Because of you disobedience and my weakness to swiftly accept,
we are eternally punished to roam our earth without finding soothing rest;
and the eternal curse will hinder us from being happy and being protected,
and with hot sweat, plowing the hard soil, I must earn our bread.
Dedicated to Marilyn for her beautiful heart and gentle soul.
My future happiness depended upon school,
They’re understanding of religious older parents,
Them constraining them with supervision,
So that I could have autonomy in my garments.
I mean, my parents let me wear what I liked,
But were unspeakably forceful poignantly,
Regarding who was going to dress and shower me:
Women, not men who could interact with me perfectly.
I wasn’t asking for all male carers,
Just one or two out of maybe five,
And I even offered to employ male nurses,
Rather than just anybody alive.
But my mum was disgusted at my suggestion,
Said it turned her stomach and made her ill,
Posited that I was not in my right mind,
Said that I made her queasy and gave her a chill.
The school’s social services seemed traditional,
Just like their toilet facilities, old and outdated;
The social worker had white, permed curly hair,
And so for parent disputes you could be slated.
So I never got the help I required and needed,
For my first care package at Glasgow University,
So I suffered from rejection, shortness and selfishness,
From my carers who were supposed to offer identity.
The wardens made it better for me every day,
Reprimanded them for disrespect and impoliteness,
But I never even imagined that voluntary carers,
Could suffice for my own future astuteness.
It upset my whole life, the schools neglect and indifference,
When I think that living success could have been sorted out,
My personal dignity and freedom could have been secured,
With a bit of determination and secular, atheistic liberal clout.
School is really just about your future,
It claims it by its very definition,
And the whole child should be taken and loved,
Not just his or her abilities with cognition.
Nefarious faces with pale cheeks,
dulling your senses with narcotics;
and dangerously staring at others
whose clement destiny
isn't called squalid poverty,
or negligible neediness...
All can be spared by the dint of astuteness,
making amends and becoming social;
you can be an atheist or an ungodly person:
you all deserve an assuring look of compassion,
to give up your attitude of indifference,
believing in yourself and forgetting every fault...
Nefarious faces of rapists and assassins, you assail
blameless and innocent people without mercy,
and in their hurt and blood you express your atrocity;
Cain acted out of jealousy, you act out of madness
by vindicating an amatory act and a deprivation of wealth
that were never granted by an insensitive society...
Come and drink of the water of holiness,
to purify your atrocious minds and your sinful souls:
turn to the Lord Jesus who forgives anyone
who's willing to repent, and be born again;
salvation is closer than you ever thought,
it cleanses your impure hearts with merciful love...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
EXPRESSIONS THROUGH POETRY
Writing poetry or anything at all creative is a lonely business. You are your own judge, for what
You write down on paper, invariably comes’ from within, and contains a great deal of yourself,
your personality, beliefs, feelings and restlessness. There is very little honour in writing poetry, only
an inner satisfaction that you have somehow managed to communicate with someone, somewhere,
even for just a fleeting moment. Few people are actually attuned to your thoughts and feelings
and the way you see things in life as we are all individuals.
Poetry is a rhythmic language charged to the highest possible degree with one’s own personality.
It often holds no practical ends, unless sheer delight is to be considered practical. It arises from, and
communicates with layers of consciousness in daily life. I imagine we have all had the experience of
not understanding a poem, and yet, getting something out of it. Our, response to poetry is largely
Instinctual.
Depending on the poet, words can either gain or lose significance according to a complex and ever
changing context that is partly personal, partly social and partly historical. Poems take on meaning
according to the angle from which one views them. It is futile to talk of the progress or decline of
this art. The art flourishes whenever a poet writes a poem. Poetry will never wither away, as long
as people feel the necessity to express themselves.
Poetry is often thought of as been eccentric, and is certainly considered to be an art of high
expression. Reading poetry allows us to learn, enrich our knowledge and sharpen our astuteness.
I believe that there are poems tucked away and locked up in many homes, so come on, get out those
precious poems, dust off the cobwebs and do something about them!