Long Avant Poems
Long Avant Poems. Below are the most popular long Avant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Avant poems by poem length and keyword.
I roamed among lucent stars through a baroque city
Which mirrored imprints from past-life scenes,
Bringing me to tears about deja vu moments: Awed by its
avant-garde streak, my very essence left me reliving the arts held
dearly in adolescence: Such uptown elan! The charmed cacophony
Of violins and guitars , of warbles by dilettante poets
Along Brussels Street gave me carte blanche to explore
Nights’ fired passion without ennui ...While the distinct air inhabited me--
This soul-connection was not time’s anomaly. My heart
knew I once dwelled flourished here , as a bona fide lyricist...perhaps.
--------------
Brussels, Belgium—March 2016
Contest of Silent One: Ten Words Ten Lines 2
1/25/2018
some poems ask to be naked
they have no use at all
for punctuation
not even for an en dash
an em dash nor hyphen
they play with a flowing grammar
that must be read like water
or paddled through on a leaky canoe
the poet can then hide behind
these unchained words
while demanding to be truly heard
while of course
all the suggested literary pauses and in-breaths
can be just a matter of spacing
it is quite a scrabble game
one played with disjointed symbols
on blank tiles
a stylistic approach that can
if done right
be thought of as avant garde
or pointlessly regressive
but
we all like a nude
a form without garb and baggage
and perhaps some of us wish
wish we could walk on water sometimes
5 CUPS OF FLOUR
1 PACKAGE OF YEAST
1 TEASPOON OF SALT
5 TABLESPOONS OF MELTED BUTTER
4 EGGS
3 tablespoons OF vanilla EXTRACT
2 & 1/2 CUPS OF BUTTERMILK
MIX TOGETHER AND ALLOW TO DOUBLE IN SIZE
ADD
1 CUP OF MASHED SWEET POTATOES(OR PUMKIN MASHED)
1/2 CUP OF TOASTED ALMONDS
1/2 CUP OF RASAINS
1/4 CUP OF MASHED BANNANAS
3/4 CUPS OF UNCOOKED OATS
1 TABLESPOON OF CINNAMMON
1 TABLESPOON OF MACE
MIX WELL
AND MAKE WAFFLES
SERVE WITH
FREID CHICKEN
PRAGRAZ'S CHICKEN
4 CHICKEN BREAST
CUT INTO HALFS
MAKES EIGHT PEICES.
(SPRINKLE CHICKEN WITH 1 TABLESPOONS OF CAYEENE PEPPER,PAPRIKA,GARLIC POWDER )
1 CUP OF SEASONED FLOUR
1 CUP OF BREAD CRUMBS
EGG WASH ( 4 EGGS 1 CUP OF MILK)
FOLLOW BASIC BATTERING PROCEDURE
FRY IN 3 CUPS OF COCONUT OIL
OR HALF COCNUT OIL AND HALF OLIVE OIL
SERVE WITH WAFFLES
AND
MAPLE SYRUP
OR SUBSITUTE CHICKEN FOR LEAN PORK
Embarkation upon meditation...
Believe me you upon manifestation
regarding Das godaddy bing linkedin
with avast cosmic consciousness
self induced light hypnotic trance
I become enthralled
unless wife disrupts intent concentration
calling out "Matt...Matt...Matt"
bajillion times Googleplex
(slight hyperbole for literary effect),
subsequently courtesy
disembodied voices
deliver poetic inspiration
without forcefully summoned,
rather gently coax (zeal lust lee)
amidst Smokey and Bandits spiritus mundi
plethora of discordant
indistinct jabbering murmurs
requiring exacting golong strategy
kickstarting coalescence regarding
faintest hint analogously harboring
shipping news a boat
reeling in catch of the day
thus, fingers snakishly
slither skitter, sidle
at greased lightning pace
across Macbook Pro laptop keyboard
feverishly unleashing
unexpected brainstorming tsunami
recalling steely apothegm
strike while the iron iz hot,
thus such epiphany occurred
moments ago - in case
ye heard "Eureka" shouted
loud, free and clear
without moment to lose
yours truly brooked
stream of consciousness
ignoring flash flood warnings
slapped down one after another
figurative pontoon bridge
all the while skirting
eddies, whirlpools, fierce whitecaps
fortunately hauling unexpected
magnificent linkedin kindled
sense and sensibility
yours truly rendered speechless
(most time non verbal when writing),
additionally hodgepodge mashup
offers no rhyme nor reason,
yet burst of pooled
imponderable gushing silent spring
(courtesy ghost of Rachel Carson)
currently did flickr
demanding immediate typing
though poetic license expired
please don't tell commission,
nor chief word den
these unpredictable eruptions
(most likely indistinguishable
turkey in the straw gobbledygook
to the untrained eye),
rather good n plenti
camouflaged indecipherable creativity
(nope, not even practiced experts
keen on esoteric etymological arts)
stymied to understand)
mine swiftly styled harry tailored
gibberish oh baying avant
(to assign long sentence
upon Matthew Scott),
which "FAKE" premature ejaculation
incorporating poppycock mishmash
screened for your viewing discomfort
unbelievably came to this homeless tramp,
while he plodded across no man's land
with hud door hubble mojo risin.
SPECTRUM
avant-garde
opinion
so often
played out
passing through
the effects
of light
capturing
the
expressive
&
symbolic
to conjure
an atmosphere
increasingly
reflected
in
the
most profound
emotions
&
experiences
pictures
to endure
the
complexity
of feelings
in
creative
possibilities
of visual
devices
in a
isolated
sense
of
the precarious
parallels
in
the
seemingly
mundane
&
enigmatic
melancholic
everyday
moods
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
I saw society drain away to the gutter on the street
How I wished I could help the disheartened ones we meet
Everyone effected by the thoughtless acts of disregard.
Passion within to change this soulless way, how avant-garde
Needing to pursue my passion for the greater good
Never fearing the negativity upheld, loved ones would
Joining an organisation that gave me a grant to make the change
The power to be compassionate to humanity in a grand range.
Polished boots, razor sharp creases, keen from the first moment
Wanting to change the lives of everyone, even if it’s atonement
Years on, finding out its money for the same old rope
Hungry for fulfilment, I need to stop this fear, and give all hope
Communities fearing the violence from demoralised youths
“Nothing to do” is the reply, none of these words are home truths
Street culture, such a powerful way of life, this is all they know
Searched by authority, a much needed but negative show
My Kind-heartedness was passion, I’m now in a moral debate
Supporting victims of crime, but wanting to put suspects straight
Humanity is a single word, so we must help one another to stand tall
This is now my agenda, dedication to build a safer future for all
Endless hours writing to governing bodies to see my radical approach
Youth engagement with sports, that’s where I became a dodge ball coach.
Promotion in the field of sports to brake down barriers with kids
Work will never end with constant battles with funding all those bids
My life is dedicated now to change the world, as we all know it
This pure heart is with the victims of crime, and the ones who commit
We must guide the misguided as they only see what we show them
Wholeheartedness, lets do this together, or we are the ones to condemn
For Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen contest "Kindheartedness"
.
so purty
mine flatter
i share
to mine right's
side
the celt from
ireland
thus
to mine left's
side
the celt from
france
"hol'lup
let me breathe"
came forth the scop's
speak
and mineself's
"they are dang
purty"
*I thought about giving this write
a less avant garde title, yet, it iz
"avant garde"...metaphorically ')
Old magazines, pictures that pose;
Junk cluttering, ready-to-throw;
Stray offerings for scrapbook close;
I'm selecting new collage flow.
Flip each page here, tear picture pacts;
A nice neat stack, stray page with poise;
Beauty that steers, pieces of tact;
Sift pile and slack, find image choice.
With easy pace, seek treasures lost;
Start to address new storyboard;
Assign new space, at zero cost;
Begin to press, cut-and-paste hoard.
Cut, trim and gum, pieces of art;
Ideas run wild in collage grain;
Here and there lump, unusual parts;
Just like a child: magic laid plain!
And pictures grow, images lift;
Collage art sings new melodies;
New chance to glow, warm purpose sifts;
Junk page now spring, clear textures see.
Thus one by one, I shape new stuff;
Discarded print, pictures galore;
Artwork frees fun, prime zest enough;
Colours and tints, avant garde core.
I feel my soul, at ease with this;
Paper cuttings, sharp cutter blade;
Trim to make whole, relax with gist;
Patchwork trimmings, pictures re-made!
This strange crusade to re-use print;
I come to know heals more and more;
Art left unsaid, re-lives new mint;
Collage that shows new life galore!
Art goes to show that discards can
Be of good use if I can see
A brand new flow in whimsy's plan:
Heart sparks a fuse to free beauty.
Leon Enriquez
24 February 2014
Singapore
"Two conservative writers, James McAuley and Harold Stewart, wanted to mock the rising popularity of modernist poetry. They created a completely fictional, deceased garage mechanic named Ern Malley and wrote 17 completely nonsensical poems in a single day by randomly pulling words out of the dictionary and lines from Shakespeare.
They sent the collection to Max Harris, the prestigious editor of the avant-garde journal Angry Penguins. Harris completely fell for it, declaring Malley a forgotten literary genius and dedicating an entire issue of his magazine to the poems. The hoax dealt a massive blow to the Australian modernist movement when the truth was exposed." Wikipedia.
Immense elation filled his demena which grew.
To think this genius of poetic prowess was new.
The amazing poetry filled his mind with awe.
He knew his readers would gasp and adore.
The Editor had discovered a genius of note.
To all his readers he could do nothing but gloat.
He had discovered contemporary excellence.
Poetry not measured in dollars and cents.
He declared that this poet E. M. was one of the greats.
His poetry illuminated each page with masterful traits
Here within the power of fiction certainly was rife.
For the editor of Angry Penguins twas the find of his life.
Inspired by a new contest
that has recently appeared
in The Soup.
It seems the gauntlet, (has been thrown down)
A line drawn in the sand
A challenge made to see "What's What"
To those who'll fall or stand
And strips away the accolades
Of poems that are bland
No more X's, no more O's
No more patting on the backs
No more two word kindly comments
Just the straight but helpful facts
And when dissecting poems
Try not to use an axe
You might be toting genuine skill,
Or blessed with parity
But writing Great Stuff, takes more than just will
Now, that's been a rarity
To get critiqued on ones own bill
Instead of pop-u-lar-i-ty
Form: