Long Besot Poems

Long Besot Poems. Below are the most popular long Besot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Besot poems by poem length and keyword.


The Odyssey Redux - Part Iv - Helios To Ithaca

So once again, with grim countenance, the ship sailed on with all bemoaning their woes
Till calm seas prevailed, with balmy sun, sweet zephyr song, they came to Helios' shores.
Helios, calm god of the day, smiled upon the lads, gave of his land free rein, but with a caveat-
Helios pride was his golden herd, indolent and fat,"Do what you will, but don't touch that"

Well, as was their wont, like a terrible refrain, full-weathered from woes and want, but yet unwise,
The crew, overcome by gluttonous  greed, slaughtered a heifer, for raucous feast, not sacrifice.
Wild was Helios at this blatant deceit, with terrible curse, banished them all, to wander once again.
So with Helios' curse (and Neptune's help), the ship was tossed and soon lost, all crew were slain.

It was Odysseus alone who was alive, afloat on flotsam, floating about, with fervent wish of death
But sweet surcease was not his lot, more plight was his fate - his tryst was due with Charybdis yet.
Perhaps Scylla was a better bet, in it's slavering jaws a definite death, I think he'd rather have it
But caught he was in Charybdis' thrall, a vortex which ate him whole, and threw him out as spit.

Past the maelstrom's outer whirl was our hero tossed clinging to life's last hope, verily a straw
Floated, the wasted carricature of a man, denied of food and water, no sustenance he could draw.
But perchance the Gods smiled on him,  wearied of their devious, puerile games going too long
Odysseus fell on land once more, where restored were life and limb, bewitched by Calypso's song.

Now Odysseus, all said and done, was a man vulnerable to worldly women's wanton wiles
And Calypso was full besot with our hero's lusty frame, his wit, his deeds and charming smiles.
For seven years did he taste bliss, ensconced in Calypso's arms with thought of home amiss
But one day, after seven years, did Caypso, with heavy heart, let him go on pleas of our Hermes.

From Calypso's isle did Odysseus sail on raft, through storm, as was now his habit, and came to Sceria
Where Nausicca, on Athena's urge, gave succor, till he sailed with Phaecians who had trade with Sumeria
The Phaecian ships soon landed Odysseus on fair Ithacan shores where  Penelope had travail,
But my dear laddies, I must hie hence, for the Dawn is nigh, of Penelope and Suitors, is another tale.

Concluded
Form: Epic


Premium Member Love Fleeting Soul Control

Written: April 8, 2025, for contest sponsored by Brian Strand

            *******************

love fleeting 
                 moments
                         soul controlled
    promiscuity & 
            wantonness
                       winnow wheat 
                                    from chaff

    magically 
            besot
    bog-myrtle
           emblem

   shrewdness
          credence
                  communication
               intimacy & physical touch
          oversight
   laudation

     love binds
            oozes
               matters
                      expands
                              prevails. . . and sounds
                              spiritual 
                      visual
               reversal
      unperishable
  individable

  love is all around
  love is all about
  love is all we ask
  love is all we bestow
  love is all I have . . . 

                                     Joining 
                             flowing   counting
                        growing             knowing
                            asking         giving 
                        motivating    comforting
                                     having

   love is painful
                 fruitful
                      disdainful 
                                gainful
                                          baneful
                                          graceful
                                 hateful
                        archangel
                    playful
             baleful
      wakeful
unstable


 i love: love
     i am so in love
             in love with Joy
                       in love with happiness
              in love with anger
    in love with frustration
  in love with tears


love hurt,    love heal,                      love win,  love kill,
   love loose,   love catch,  love toss,  love match,     
           love fall   love is right   love is wrong,
                   love is weak,     love is strong,
            love rise    love tall,   love smile,    love frown,
love stay   love cease,                  love dream   love sing,
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Other

Michael Jackson

MICHAEL JACKSON
-----------------------------------------------------------
They called him a wacko,said he's a cracko;
But on the dance floor,he made them go loco.
He was nicknamed smelly,gyrated his belly;
But he danced like his birth was from a can full of jelly.
Born at number seven will he enter in heaven?
Or just be forgotten like some beaten eleven?
Crooning in paradise or tooning in hell?
Questions unanswered,we want someone to tell.
Was it the doctor who thumbed the door bell?
Was it some drug that rang his death knell?
With loads of talent he did abound,
But couldn't make it to that final round.
It's so sad he had to die,
Depriving fans of that final goodbye.
This genius who did the moon walk here,
Is now hopefully doing it in another sphere.
With his crotch grabbing,anus stabbing,sodomising way,
He was criticised globally for being so gay.
They claimed the young lads he did make lay,
But like a small little child he only wanted to play.
From the Jackson five to being no longer live,
As a music maestro he had unholy drive.
With a journey besot with I don't know what,
Everything came to a gigantic nought.
He began a career "OFF THE WALL"
Became "BAD"and fell to propofol,
If only he'd realised whether "BLACK OR WHITE",
Death is something which is God's sole right.
Life no doubt turned out quite a "THRILLER"
Thinking you're 'INVINCIBLE"can be such a killer.
God doesn't mind a lot of skit,
But for Jacko the wacko he said "THIS IS IT"

-------Prince Freakasso {Artist and Poet}
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A Storm Is Brewing

A storm is brewing as the wind hastens,
the darkening troposphere trembles
with the tornado's teeming tempest afar.
Cumulonimbus clouds meet, gathering to 
brood, to share their destructive morose 
mood, just as he did that fearful, fateful night
as his friends gathered about taunting him.
This would be no ordinary storm, but a deadly
terrorizing storm exceeding all previous storms.

As the tornado strikes, Hades is awakened
to rise up with Cerberus at his side to
meet the onslaught of obliteration and
blood spilled and spattered with a frenzied
unrelenting wind force exceeding 100 mph.
The house destroyed, his family winging
their way toward heaven's golden gates,
there would be no rendering of redemption.

As the tornado became weak and dissipated,
spent from spinning and swirling its wrath,
its path of decimation and destruction lay
bare with the departed and hard hearted who
cast his lot and became besot to spend his
final unremorseful days of hate with Hades.

April 18, 2016


*Hades was lord of the underworld and ruler of the dead 
in Greek mythology.

*Cerberus was the three-headed guard dog belonging to Hades.

To read more about Hades: 
http://www.greekmythology.com/Olympians/Hades/hades.html

Note* This poem parallels the wrath and destruction
of a tornado with a man who goes berserk and, during 
a frenzied rampage, kills his entire family.

Desperate Hope

"In fleeting moments of clarity, a non PM declares 
                                                                    *Quote by The Poet.*

.      Desolate images flood into the passages of my mind.
                        Unmistakable sorrow of the darkest kind.
  Sinister thoughts overwhelm my form, boiling my blood.
      Into the passages of my mind, desolate images flood.

                   Lost and mesmerised, nothing to remember. 
  Sadness burns every mellow moment, to just an ember.
                     Bewildered to the point of being terrorised.
                    Nothing to remember, lost and mesmerised.

         Striving to keep my mind on track, no turning back.
  Desperate hope, the demons dont launch another attack.
         Dementia besets every strand of willpower I so lack.
          No turning back, striving to keep my mind on track.

I know her to be, one that looks after me, I know her care.
       Must I be this way, so out of balance, in such despair?
       Never meaning to be ugly or shout in rage, it isnt me! 
One that looks after me I know her care, I know her to be.

          Impossible to cope, sullen thoughts besot my being,
   Amble amidst misty smoke that stymies me from seeing.
         Yearning for clarity and thoughts for desperate hope.
         Sullen thoughts besot my being, Impossible to cope.
© Merv Hold  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member Homage To Vienna

This is one of a few sonnets Mystic and I collaborated on
she has left PS and in her honor, I'm posting it

To you Vienna, my writing buddy

                                         To Be in Love
                            To be in love along the rushing shore
                            And hear sounds from your heartbeats that enslave
                            To kiss your hungry lips, then wanting more
                            Obtaining love's desire, its constant crave
                            Besot, beneath this dazzled sky, I find
                            Love's lightning splays a light that clears my view
                            Such echoed worlds, soft as waves inclined
                            Submerge through quiet eyes a love so true
                            My hand entwined in yours, we bond as one
                            While watching footprints fade in pebbled sand
                            To spy a reddening sky and setting sun
                            While falling into night, at stars command

                                   We'll feel the waves upon our warmest skin
                                   And touch the stars, as dawn arouses in

                                 written by Mystic Rose and me
                                                  3/3/14
Form: Sonnet

Essential Focus

My heart-beating demand a green light
in showy fashioning from your heart
and date cruder fit over pyramids
of nor realities been dressed
I craving mine sweet, info in you
arousing daily with me by anew dawn
from my bedouin as poetry links
whereas various of reasons, I wanna
stop persisting until fulfils it —
secure I’m thou flimsily if wanna you
I could be a thing, your dim moan
my gardens Bud-Peony Roses you own
my savor for, if you endow a light
and the virtual green been
as virtual by engaging rings our desire                                                                                        
And we sweetheart band for eternity
and apiece of anniversary solar day                                                                                              
as impress day in ceremony, and a Red                                                                                  
Rose in bestow give to you
and the Angeles wishes our sleep
by nightly along in advanced for
and nothing thou modified in the far
And toward not down-field we besot.

What Is Thatblood Upon Your Hands?

What
is that blood upon your hands
my one and only child?

  Have
you destroyed all our plans
for all your running wild?

  Why
do you sit alone and cry,
hot tears upon your face?

  I
fear I see the future die,
for all your dark disgrace.

  My
spirit flies around the world
and cannot find surcease,

  So
bright our ventures were unfurled
and now there's no release.

  What
have you done?Come tell the truth,
come to me 'ere I find,

  That
you have slain the bird  of youth
and left our hopes behind.

  "I'll
sail across the ocean blue,
dear Mother don't you fear,

 And
I'll return when things are new,
a fortnight or a year.

  The 
night came in andstole my soul
while conscience was asleep,

  I
never meant to take the role
but evil thoughts can creep

  Into
the purest mind that rests
besot with spirits bright,

  I
owed a thousand more in debts
and could not set it right.

  Forgive
me now as I depart,across the rolling sea

  I
never meant to break your heart,
Forgive and think of me."
Form: Quatrain

Free Diving

In superhuman ability or the golden ring sought 
filling the lungs to capacity into the waves besot 

Faster and deeper into the depths sleek as if born to this world
Seeing what few will ever as around its denizens swirled

Diving off an undersea high rise of stones  not trodded by men
my own breath becoming troubled she dives deeper and deeper again

Sprinting  alleyways on the seas floor between walls cut precisely by time
Or chiseled by The will of God a workmanship sublime


The danger of becoming so fully entranced must remain uppermost in mind
As to aid in the returning to the world of the land breathing kind

Unencumbered free flowing soaring leaping in a single bound
how does she talk herself into returning to this now unhallowed ground

Awash in this world without chaos quieted by purpose of thought
Off the wheel off the chain this my friend can't be bought

Watch it yourself see what I mean live it through the fearless eyes
Of a free diver plunging into the surf to traverse it's watery skies
Form: Rhyme

Robert Burns P Is For Poet

Robert Burns  - P is for Poet.

Intro- Rabbie Burns stated on his deathbed on 27th July 1796 that he did not want the Awkward Squad i.e. Scots Military firing a tribute to him at his graveside.Burns wish was not granted and he died with full military honours with thousands lining the streets of Dumfries, Scotland.

At the graveside the Scots Military fired three volleys as the dirt was shoveled into his grave.


P is for Poet

Peasantry pulled by independent thoughts
Posthumous plaudits, academics besot
Penury not privilege, to which you were born
Poor ploughman's son, sowed our new poetic dawn

Prescriptions for passion and artistic artillery
Paradoxical pilgrim in heaven's distillery
Poetic pied piper, peat-fuelled injected ink
P is for poet, from your chalice we'll drink

Persecuted profile, diagnosis was death
Painful, your passing, blood in your last breath
Pistols point skywards, as Awkward Squad fire!
Pageantry and pomp as dying wish expires.


RIP ROBERT BURNS.
Form: Rhyme

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