Long Bespoken Poems
Long Bespoken Poems. Below are the most popular long Bespoken by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bespoken poems by poem length and keyword.
Extra Lemon
Extra Lettuce
If you know what I mean
I will have
What he is having
Said another
And another
Why
He asked ?
Because you can afford
Whatever you want
But he failed to miss the point
Because he wanted it
Just because he could
To say that he had
So that no 1 had got 1 over on him
What is the point of having everything
If someone
Has something
You haven't
If his neighbors had a hole
In there roof
And water was flooding in
He would pay someone
To do the same
That is the type of guy he is
He is empty
Surrounded by plenty
A bespoken
Man of the gentry
to the men in lab coats with horns like unto goats,
an open confession of a minor isotope:
I -- so -- Hope that a day shall dawn
when men no longer long
for the things that do not belong
and are, oh so wrong
for mine and your and his and her song.
Have you heard the song we sing?
Like a toad's song on a summer night,
or wedding bells that ring,
for the virgin in white,
pure as the driven snow?
No?
Know what?
The toad hoards the dream to sing
with a voice not broken
and a chorus not of croaking
but alas! he keeps choking
on the flies of his own lies
as SHE (the queen mother) belies,
bequeathed yet bespoken
to a king, comely, and oft misspoken.
I (not one to spread misgivings
and false learnings), I give you, Miss, a token.
A token of a key in a minor chord
for the song worth singing
from Hell's lowest floorboard
to Heaven's own pearly door.
Take it and run, never to show a soul
but place it safely in the hole
in your face and swallow it whole.
In your belly it will thrive
-- half dead but all alive --
until the time is right and the beat is clear.
Then you will belt your song
for the Universe to hear.
Sing it strong and carry the notes so long.
Doubt it not, for you cannot be wrong.
Know ye now
that from whence the world was frozen --
that you, my dear, were already pre-chosen
and the path for you was already paved
that through this song of mine
and yours
and his
and hers,
thou woman, through your song
mankind shall be saved.
I
Namibia is my most beloved country,
Like it is a marvellous Beulah land
With a mighty will, great glory
So, be glorified, my free Motherland.
From red sand deserts to the shining shores
And the sun gives me its setting,
Echoes of the seagulls melodied its choruses,
Masterpiece of Paradise is mesmerizing.
II
Wisdom of the people is ancestor-given
As whose blood waters our freedom is glorified,
Their heroism is unforgotten
And the blessing of diverse culture is bespoken.
What makes me so proud today?
Being a Namibian and free is what I cherish
My love for the Motherland is displayed everyday
May the dreams of my country flourish.
How am I doing
Well thanking you very much indeed
For being kind enough to ask
Because I am doing just fine
In fact I can't tell a lie i am actually
way far better than that bordering on
great
Because my business is downright
booming at the minute
To the point I have had to stop taking
bookings as I am now fully booked
up till Christmas
And the reason why you may well ask
well is due and down to this
You see what I do for and earn my living
as my proffesion and business is
I am a fully qualified certified card carrying
Clown
So much some of the very best in the
business which you may or may
not have heard of
Like for example Sideshow Bob and
Ronald McDonald who actually based
a lot of their own act and performance
on material they stole off me
But they have all but since gone to
ground so now I am all but the last
standing remaining Clown
Due to the dwindling amount of work
after COVID -19 rules etiquette and
social distancing ensued
The best excuse money can buy
when all else other's used have failed
thus far since the classic good old days
of my dog eat my homework
And left them without means to
earn a steady income to support
them in order to pay their bill's and
lifestyle they had become accustomed to
But hey at least this story has a happy
ending and they didn't want and go
without for very long
Because blessed with the particular
skillet they garnered and possessed
They simply just went joined signed
up and pledged allegiance to and
became a fully fledged member of the
Clown Union
Because as everyone full well knows
Clown's are the star's and reason why
people choose go to the Circus in the
1st place
And politics if nothing else is in all
but name the greatest Circus on earth
Only difference being although littered
with clown's these one's have or feel
no need
To slap and adorn their face in
makeup or wear a funny customized
suit
Because they are and their act and
material on which it is based upon is
in itself funnier than hell
But whereas Circus clown's wear big
shoe's for comical affect
These here clown's wear big boot's
in order so they can fill them up to
brim of their stetson hat
After the pockets of their shinny designer
bespoken suits look like they have
$100 handkerchief hanging out all
of them
I see the truth in your eyes
Letting the world go without
Words needless be heavier than lies
For you who say, said be not doubt
And it is I who see
Yet seen were that of knowledge of my own
Interpretation revealing a never be
I have heard yet becoming my meaning known
How am I to choose otherwise?
I can only be in your shoes to what I know
Bespoken truth yet spoken lies
Who beheld, who behold... Who withheld, who withhold?
Your version of truth
Is it to come with a version of lies?
What is won, what did we lose?
When times of truth we often denies
There is to be no one to consult
As words they flow with a needless whisper
For those who say, said be not doubt
A lifetime... yet I see not forever
Neither encumbered with
material trappings, nor money,
(neither of which I miss)
mine existence approxi-
moxy mates (to me),
the state of psychic,
intrinsic, and bucolic bliss
though far removed
from civilization distant
as thee (myopic) eye can see,
a benevolent, redolent,
and verdant pristine premise
bespoken, expressed, and invoked
to cosmic consciousness, especially
threats (to life and limb
courtesy *****sapiens),
isolated wilderness
absent villagers tsuris,
this monk thank
fully doth dismiss
homestead of unspoiled habitats
though contact with eldest,
and youngest sis
plus deux darling daughters,
the only people, whose absence
accompanies me to wince
with gentle hug, and air kiss
communing with nature
faintly conjures Swiss
Family Robinson
similarities, though this
subarctic Siberian wilderness
connotes more drastic
(ideal to me) solitude perfect
remote abode tubby remiss,
cuz this loner loathes
to impress others,
who don, and
trumpet an (all self)
important air of priss
see ness, no thank dear reader,
I revel as a misanthrope
glad to isolate myself
breathe deep sigh relief asper,
not being party to hiss
see fit, nor participate in
superficial rituals like...Christmas.
Here I am weary in my entreaties,
there’s no one here but a man and his dog
alone among my rambling reveries
and a small libation to clear its fog.
To God bespoken that I may foresay
my own confessions at the water’s edge,
where the dull debris of time ebbs away
and harbingers of death gaze from their ledge.
For here upon this cold Stygian sea
drifts a hollow vessel its depths to fade -
a broken wreckage of a lost glory
where hope is sunk and its memory laid.
Look, all I ask and all I want from you,
Lord, is to have my cake and eat it too.
Written: January 1994
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
--------- 8-29-13
Would a starry sweep
Alight against an engine
As seemingly the great aghast retain
The seven sent, the cranking, a bespoken
A hotel, a precipice, a lantern
Will witted the seats perplexed
Weighted in among outlook
So lore is not the shattered page claiming
Wine and windows, the hoisted village lit
From one to another against the 8th
The moon swing eradicate
Would take offense like a game
The sweet success of thine party strewn rile
Wheeling the window lifting a ship house
The commotion to view earth from afar
How afar the moon and twixt
Bells by the 8 door exit
Always the shift of 7 flat
The feast of proportional enemy
Cast across the ozone, observing
The visit of views, the Space Hotel sights
Such an assertion wild, stars
The great Space Hotel alright
in lieu as payment for buzzfeed ding,
livingsocial, lodging, et cetera accommodations.
the best buy google research to locate a
handy dandy blues clues milieu, true
value venue iterated above reference
to intentional communities, yet no idea
this bumbling, fumbling, rambling,
et cetera twisted missive would find me
making mention of a logically obvious
proscribed resource. upon setting
my figurative sights regarding the end
ever explicitly, fixedly, and pointedly
to communicate how to adopt modalities
helping other people (in ways within
my capacity), the undercurrent, sans
writing this epistle, an off the beaten
track prospect found unplanned impregnated
insinuation cradling embryonic vision
visited by the secondary modus operandi.
the bespoken ambition (asper reciprocating
the consideration to pursue voluntary
employment. ideally this agreeable deal
(includes a small stipend plus room
and board). the inclusion of the latter
(tacked on as a strong consideration -
figured as welcome visualized reprieve.
hence this prosaic/ poetic add on -
at no extra charge - slightly expanded
the original intended tone of this blurb.
rather than dismiss tangential thread
mainly to air considerations divergent
incorporating alternative arrangements
to call home already moderately
lengthy soundcloud, i freely shared
a tangential welcoming pseudo string
of consciousness thread.