Long Betides Poems
Long Betides Poems. Below are the most popular long Betides by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Betides poems by poem length and keyword.
Nestled is the slender twisting trail canyon between timeless steep
aspiring mountains and meditative sopheric sea waters
The frail road deepens into lofty thickness further from the harsh
volcanic valley where passion’s throes are ever in abeyance as days grind
on at a petty pace, as winding cathartic minds strive to be free and leave their
fears of mortal sin, intrusive family— religious dogma dismissive, oppressive
My yearning heart writhes in agonizing prose knowing senses magma
guilt etched into my very core, now behind
I’ll unwind, in a soft bed of sand that awaits
Spring’s strong winds of life call, visible the sea in the
distance, in instance, heads tilt, abut, falling upon my
wooer’s shoulder, he presses gears, downshifts reaching tireless
slate-gray force spreading over ocean floors flooding with no remorse
An uncommon gallantry he displayed, a warrior’s valiant looks
fired up my very essence
A dimming sun immerses into a hesitant horizon, sweeping breezes spin
warm spells embracing an enchanter’s realm,
with its charm he gazed into languid eyes
Silhouettes stark, foreheads bow, touch, sweetened sweat from
jasmine bushes alongside the road, perks of riding the stallion of steel
evoked smiles in sideview mirror, heated rims, spokes spun
Dismount a stroll, toes sank in sand, holding hands dodging driftwood
washed ashore, I chose a serpent shaped, a souvenir!
I’d glue turquoise stone eyes, a keepsake, or an omen?
Zena’s cove of guilty pleasures seal fates, certainly
not rhythmic lapping waves against the shore nor salmon sunset
or a waxing crescent moon, and not the wistful ocean’s teary spray
Its tears wetted my cheeks in afterglows
Lest moonlit sky amongst shy hidden stars
Pangs subside, panic betides, doctrine ridden not from our marrow
Womb’s flower in bloom, a secret kept, an advent arrival
The planets wept, forms beyond birth of celestial bodies,
one existence yet does sin exist in celestial angels?
He held tightly, softly whispered let’s run away,
his proposal on adulthood’s precarious cusp,
bestowed him a refusal, sweet youth ruins
Alas and alack life proceeds
steady as ebb and flow of the tides
After a precious gem she’s named, sweet lord
never more blissful, daughter
Caressed are tranquil ocean waves
Each cock that crows in the morning
mourns the death of dusk.
The silent sunrise reminds sages of the
reality of human mortality.
Thirsty, mother-earth drinks the teardrops
from the soiled skies;
ever hungry, the garden feasts on feeble leaves
from trees in autumn;s wake.
Each new moment dances with radiant rays,
only to be nailed on a nocturnal cross
when shadows betides.
Every being with blood and breath
entered a pact with vanity before birth;
Human existence is a sacred script
scribed with an invisible ink...
writing nothing on something.
The reality of yesterday
cannot rid today of its obscurity,
uncertainty sweetly sleeps in the
womb of... time to come,
time and chance melt into memories,
memories that roam in the human mind.
Years, months and days distil
into sweet and sorry stories.
Moments is what life offers us
on a platter of preference:
a time to live and a time to leave
this world of wealth and want;
seasons stop by to sigh--
weather whispers words of wisdom.
we are who we are; the earth
exists in spaces and stratas.
The sinking sand on which we stand
is willing and waiting,
it will take nothing from us
but that which we cannot afford:
Nothing but the dignified dust that we are.
I know two mindless weights
that make all things equal:
Twenty-four-hours-a-day and
six-feet under mother-earth.
Alas, there are two dates not
hidden from the lustful gaze of fate:
when the womb opens the
narrow gate to human existence
and when the tomb opens wide
the gate to extinction… afterlife.
There is going to be a word on the marble
that we will not live to write or read,
Yet it will be a concise piece of our deeds;
all what we wrote on life.
Time and chance will knock again
and again on the door of destiny;
So, cloister your memoir with courtesy
while you yet live in this frail field.
Only few men crave the den of darkness,
dust and ashes, but it is the truth is
that all men will run into it at a point in time;
There is a time to be born
and a time to bid life farewell,
Twain moments that sandwich the opportunity
...to live for humanity or live in mediocrity.
Adeleke Adeite © September, 2012.
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Love like hope betides,
nature is her ere scene,
what if the world would host, tis,
things flowing monsters, if wise, otherwise,
oh!, I think that the earth,
has blue and green and red...,
a little calendar of this savannah.
As the border is not based,
since nothing tends towards.
Alas!, what I can see willingly or unwillingly,
nature is beautiful and horizon rainbow,
were the earth wild there is a prayer of holy,
were this life frenzy and spoiled still there is throw,
alas!, besides this longing of centuries,
alas!, besides this civilization trails,
alas!, besides this cultivation of memories.
How when a need arises society frowns,
how it will use basic there drowns.
But, the tale is gloom if it is held,
if it is tis thou relied,
what I cannot depend upon is a restraining mood,
one turned wild and one turned fiend,
nature says her love and butterfly her ecstasy,
and nature dreams and dreams,
oh!, nature is but a factory.
And even on it, a child claims poesy,
is not, for a trival reject,
since to shed a light on this contemporary horizon,
since nothing is for nothing or non.
Like here I fancied a ribbon of tide,
I think this part even is around,
is their IDs beheld tie,
then next I bound and found,
ere nature is democratic, better indeed,
since two is many a time paired,
and desire alone is a rare bond.
On an occasion in life,
it matters the experience but none to falter,
because it is to at least bind.
Ah!, if a little wave,
escape tomorrow like charcoal of ruins,
and this difference in life,
the earth on her revolution contends,
thus not that what is not known,
is acted to the favour of greed,
because it was not known at a dawn.
Now like a bee he/she is around within this frail,
what then clarity connects us concerning this trail?,
it actions are just nightmares,
alas!, a worst form of such vile sought reward,
worst is last lost failures.
Now odd is a life depending on such a mod,
for may be it is ruined,
I cannot hold that I was torn and scared,
somewhere nor hold that I failed or missed,
this same fancy to fun the earth,
later I didn't mis entail,
and now is happy and wish to fold.
The great mother to whom I cry
But when will your mind be to laugh
Or mouth in joy of peace it seeks
When will happiness to brethren smiles
To him your joy afar in miles
The treasure your children lost
Or the inheritance of mother flaws
Grand children in madness drawn
To steal, to fraud and to loot
To this your veins drain in cries
And in pains your mouth bleeds
Yet curse your mouth refutes
Because in changes your mind lurches
Of children in wilderness of vain chase
Hope in vanity of welt wealth
Great mother to you I cry
But mother, behold you too in cry
Sour the taste, milk of your breasts
To whom will us the solace get
Nigeria, mother, bleed they made you
II.
In trust the one I gave the vase
To lead, to mold, and spray the musk
That which brethren will make a symbol
Fragrance the world sought in haste
Aroma the one to mold in folds
Your kids, your world, your growth
But, amongst of you, leaders you hailed
In cry I am, my kids are cursed
Like Judas you are of trust to keep
But the one your elders waste and frayed
To throne your ascendancy in flaws
When justice you claimed but ruts
In market justice you sell to hawks
Like lion poking and sneering of preys
The rich, the little of the weak he takes
Blame not the kids whose hands do stink
Of whom, I ask, they tutored in gales
To steal, to fraud, to loot like cats
But of their elders, parents, even the guides
The reference of elders, now their pride
III.
But there, standing he holds
In pretext the Books of the sages
The one he claims to bear
In them contains their sayings
Of the old and I say, of the Host
The one in whom I am mould
Books of the Ancients and of age
Of ancients before your gods
That in it my mind in cry
That in lies he claimed to know
Behold, he swore to an oath
In himself, his oath, his spirit rejects
The taker and the one who is charged
The responsibility of oath he took
Accursed these children I begot
The one for which I’m in cry
That unto him I say, woe betides
Fury of me is here to reckon
Rage of the Books that you hold
The one of oath as your witness
Against of your mouth, it shall witness
An orphaned paradise where wounded feet
Must hymn the breath which gave it life and light
Despairs for harmonies which subtly meet
In whirlpools where bright genii wake to fight.
Asleep along the foaming shore there lie
Two citadels whose strong foundations greet
A conscience winged in victory, which flies
Above this land where will and passion meet.
An islet, solitudinous and mute,
Has harbored, for a thousand years, a man
Whose life has flown on wings of plaintive lute
While thirsting for the world from which he ran.
On promontories whence he peers aloof
Toward the azure sphere of mortal drift,
He mourns his youth, his joy and treasured roof
Where he received his first and dearest gift.
How could he leave and then to Earth descend?
Though he was blessed with endless life and sight
Of what betides his kin where Death attends,
He pines to see the sun’s absolving light.
With bashful moves and longing, he comes down
From his abode to where he meets the edge
Of Life’s demesne, created with a frown
To wear dull immortality’s sharp edge.
He peers below, where lovers live in peace,
And takes a step across dark heaven’s brink,
While angels shudder as their fears increase:
Their master’s jaunt may cause the realm to sink.
His gaze observes the world around, yet not
A sight presents itself to sate his thirst,
For—long ago—the race of men forgot
His name and will, and all his writs reversed.
Though mortals bow their heads, they do not know
What power has descended to their realm
And, as he looks around, they flee and grow
Alarmed at what they cannot overwhelm.
Yet one disdainful face comes forth and grins
While clasping the old master’s haloed head:
“You fool!”—cries Death—“You want men for their sins!”
His scythe then lashes off and God is dead.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
I used to love the stars in the skies
until I saw the sparkle in your eyes,
my heart once fell for a gentle Dove
until you flew into my world with Love.
You are a timeless tale no tongue can tell,
a priceless pearl no merchant can sell;
your smile is all I need to see
to turn my darkest gloom to glee.
There was a game growing in my heart,
my poetry pen became a dart,
I stopped hunting the day I found you,
a treasure you are, timeless and true.
You are a queen made for a king,
a song too sweet for me to sing.
Oh how could I this bloom deny,
my heart is yours, my butterfly.
I wish upon the brightest star
that soon you will engulf my scar,
and in cold nights within your arms
my soul shall kiss your changeless charm.
The heat of love betides at noon,
the glow of life springs from the moon;
both night and day, you soothe my soul,
no doubt you are my golden goal.
No rose can beat your rare radiance,
artists cannot fake your ambiance;
loving you makes life twice as nice,
you are to me a special spice.
If Love indeed is but a sacred stream,
O let me drown in the depth of bliss;
wake me up not from my dearest dream,
leave me in the awe of this mystical kiss.
Take me back to the shores of memories
where the waves of love wet our soul;
let the echoes of our fondest fantasies
reverberate like the cheers of a golden goal.
You are a gem with a gladsome mind,
fairer than White rose, so hard to find.
Within your arms blossom light and love,
indeed you are a delightsome dove.
In flaws and faith you are just perfect,
nothing to hide, all things reflect.
Your beauty spans beyond flaked face,
and your charming heart: my purest place.
Why to you have sides, front, back,
left and right besides, betides?
I'm offside, on no one's side.
Why regret and hide the gnarls,
scars and wrinkles on your hides?
Why be ashamed of the 'love-me-dos',
cut into your trunks,
by strangers with sharpened blades?
Why do you hide and cower in my shade
and not reach up with your leaves skyward,
into the warm sun's arms?
Instead you rake up my dead leaves? Why?
Where are your roots, in which my true strength lies?
Leaving your strength to arms and legs, denies you, your roots?
Be like me, rooted in the earth, reaching for the sky!
Why do you hate the passing of season so much?
For shedding and renewal,
allows green shoots and buds to grow.
Your quest for permanence and stability
begs your leaves to free-fall, unexpectedly,
leaving you stripped bare and unprepared.
Each winter I stand proud and tall
with limbs bare, resilient against the cold.
I well know that such absence, lack and emptiness
can never make me feel old.
For trees we never strive,
but lean to and in, compliant,
and stretch and bend gracefully.
Trees stay still and never leave, yet they claim their place.
They never seek tomorrow, satisfied with what is here and now.
Happy to shed what they no longer need, for renewal sake.
Growing slowly old, with dignity and grace.
They're mostly *'Ents', rooted in the earth,
with trunk and branches, twigs and leaves,
content with their lot.
Sunbeams flood into my room like a tide on the rise creeping in.
Woe betide me be, wet or dry, warm or cold, enlightened or beam blighted.
Dawn bears beams of revelations, comings and goings, flotsam and jetsam,
Some floating, others dissolved, suspended, dragging in sentiment grains of sand.
Behold sea, what betides in seeps you oozed in?
Seconds or first, ticks or crosses, daze lost, or minutes expanded?
Wins or losses, deposits or payments, credit or bills, older but deeper in debt or bathing in clover?
Will forget-me-knot bloom, rose petals fall off, buds pop open or dead-heads drop down?
Who will call by, drop in, blow in, come in, arrive on door step, or be shown the door with good riddance and boot?
What will the postie deliver, inbox spew up, or social media blurt outs in entrails of you-have-mail?
Will you step up, step forward, take two steps back, make progress or stumble and fall?
Will your dreams be realized, shattered, made, recalled, befallen, denuded, dewatered or deluded be splat?
You can't stop progress.
Time marches on.
'Now' it reigns, and we all get wet.
Fate's clock is never fast.
Destiny blooms and booms.
'Sun' it shines, and 'ce sera tout fait' translates
Good morning
Day its brung!
ADVERSITY
Adversity strengthens us...and God uses it to help mold us into stronger souls.
Adversity prepares a soul to be more passionate and purposeful about the things beyond mere
mortality
Adversity increases wisdom when we allow God to do His work in our lives.
Adversity makes us advance into alluring aura and adored by angels if we ... But endure
And as we do, God will uplift our hearts and souls to that peaceful platitude where His purpose
precludes personal praise.
So welcome adversity when if finds you; let your eyes be opened through forgiveness and love.
Find God whatever betides, because he is always in the storm with you, so do not think you are a
worm
Let His word nourish you; when you find yourself in the black mire of despairs, remember, He is there.
When the skies turn scary and the rugged rod drops with dread, remember that the righteous
rainbow resumes thereafter
He is a faithful friend and father that will never fail though flowers fade & fall, His faithfulness is
forever.
God's glorious love will gladden the heart and transport the soul to solace where hope is fulfilled and
eternity begins its joy. Invite Him –
© May 3, 2011
Adeleke Adeite and Dane Smith-Johnsen
The world is Dying…
Mother Earth Is Crying...
"Man, man, man…
You have caused me much pain…
Even if I rain hailstones on him...He is still stubborn"...
"Man, Man, Man…
You cut down my Hard Grown Forests …Without replanting them,
You Plunder My Breasts spilling my precious Milk…
Keeping My Marine Offspring In Extinct Extinction,
You Flare Gas into the Air, Making this same Air your Main life
Source Thinner and Thinner, Destroying My Ozone layer"...
"You Manufacture harmful chemicals which you use as Refrigerants
And for foam production these same deplete the Ozone layer…
Hear ye! Hark ye! Woe betides you for burning my forests…
See the charred evidences...So Much Natural Life In Jeopardy…
Your Over-Zealousness has plundered the Wildlife I granted True Bliss…
They are now unsafe and close to extinction…
I will withhold my anger for a short time and Look on..
But When Thy Cup Of Sin Filleth..Not Even My Creator Will Withold My Fury..
I am MOTHER EARTH!"