Long Boasts Poems
Long Boasts Poems. Below are the most popular long Boasts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boasts poems by poem length and keyword.
The affliction I have encountered has fastened my lips,
And I am at a loss for words therefore my feelings I cannot express.
However, as I dip the end of my quill into apprehension,
And with urgency of these accounts, I am compelled to...confess.
Yet me fear is that the paper shall not bear the weight...
Of the emotional agony that my heart has experienced of late.
It so happened, that my heart was fashioned amidst a floral bouquet,
And presented to a loved one who I thought may appreciate this fragile display.
It’s symbolic interpretation conveying the importance of love with marital intent,
When I learned of its acceptance, it brought feelings of sheer delight and a sense that it was well spent.
However, as the years ebbed away and love was an inconvenience that caused a rift,
Well my love stood firm but alas hers had gone adrift.
Her speech that was once nectar, now lacked the evocation of affection,
Her conduct boasts utter resentment and rejection.
She speech id flavoured with words of severing our connection,
A pretence to cover her affairs by avoid public circumspection.
My lips are conserved by love’s rebuff and mournful sorrow,
Even my pen fails to compose my hearts deepest tenderness and is considered a foe.
I have no alternative but to mend my broken heart and adorn it in an array,
To seek a true dwelling place next to one that appreciates it’s beauty and hope it will come one day.
Wee ditty about the loudly, proudly beating heart of our oh so pretty city.
No hustling..strolling along...to the rolling soundtrack..bustling throng
A musky busker hums, strums and sings their husky song...
Familiar faces..fayre made with care..displayed with flair to share..
Tip top one stop shop..rare.. hallowed not fallowed places.
Grab a seat...have a natter..nab a moreish treat..baffled by the seasonal snaffle raffle..
Becalming as disarming stallholders flatter with charming chatter..
No need to scatter whatever the weather..for once it doesn't matter.
Feast your eyes...on the fruit, veggies, flowers and pies...a treasure trove..
We loyally royally rove..Dunedin’s own homegrown orchard grove.
Hordes..maraud..applaud the smorgasbord hoard..
Toasts to our harbingers & hosts bucolic boasts...
Our locavore lair...after dawn duty on a Saturday morn..
There to share..our adored victual ritual..
Rootling & pootling...epicurean sights..sybaritic delights…
Pushing greedy needy…gourmands & gluttons’ buttons..
Fossicking..their weekly home from home outing..
Gastronomes roam.. pouting swag bags sprouting..
Never snooty....just rollicking & frolicking..
Touting this tutti fruity booty of beauty..
Dawn inspires with her captivating blend
of watercolor hues,
the wisps of fog, the apple crisp air,
the electric charge of the new.
See how she bleeds through the trees
and crests the mountains high
laying her grace, all over the face of
of earth* bound creatures eyes.
Dawn reforms the listless born
and clinks the glass of time,
raising a toast to night who boasts
of jeweled skies in summer time.
See how she weaves with each breeze
the threads of weary fate,
tending her loom from birth to tomb
a fate which none escape.
Dawn breaks each breath that we take
with beauty so sublime
no hour* can resist her kiss,
her never-ending climb.
See now, Aurora’s diadem slips
see her prismatic shine,
bow to her royal Highness
welcome morning’s time.
TIP: Use as much fresh UNPROCESSED product as possible
the packagingis filling the dumps & BACK TO cloth diapers!
In the spirals of our ancient code lie secrets
No pill boasts on its glossy label:
We are the cradle of the human genome,
Yet our maps remain blank in global trials.
Test tubes filled with our diaspora’s pulse
Are left untouched—ignored by profit’s design.
Prescription after prescription fails us,
Side by side with miracles elsewhere.
Tell me, Western pharmacopeia,
Why ship drugs proven blind to our cells?
Why let our hearts suffer, our livers wear thin,
While your profit margins bloom?
This is not science—it’s a crime cloaked in white coats,
A quiet genocide as lethal as any missile.
Colonial bias got a new skin—it wears lab coats now,
And it bleeds through African veins still uncounted.
To the leaders in ivory towers of a broken state:
Your silences echo louder than your oaths.
You sold your people’s trust
For crumbs from foreign tables.
But we—the children of a thousand tribes—
We are rising not in whispers, but in fire.
Your puppetry ends where our voices begin:
We will build our industries, staff our labs,
And chart every strand of our DNA.
Pharma’s blood stained on our histories,
Indicted by our silence no longer.
We demand justice, recall every flawed pill,
And rewrite the code of care in our own image.
For if medicine cannot learn our language,
Then it shall learn our resistance:
Made in Africa, by Africans, for Africans—
No more sacrifices for their sterile profit.
This place is tucked out of the way,
across river from the city,
most folks don’t even know it’s here,
and I suppose that’s a pity.
Maybe the truck-stop that it serves
is what drives some people away,
but their hash-browns are masterworks,
so I come here most Saturdays.
Attached nearby is a small lounge
with massage chairs and a big screen,
and nearby showers you pay for,
an odd spot, but they must stay clean.
Nearby is a convenience store,
it’s several times larger than most,
snacks, westerns, and toiletries are
a few of the things that it boasts.
But the diner is why I come,
can’t drive a truck to save my hide,
I find it a relaxing place,
no hint of pretension inside.
A third of the clientele are
just hungry locals like me,
the others are the long-haul guys,
slumping wearily in their seats.
They’re literally the lifeblood
of a nation awash in goods,
yet so many look down on them,
I don’t understand why they would.
The elites who like their gadgets
seem to think them a lower class,
tet were there not men out driving
they’d run out of gadgets real fast.
I even heard a professor
use them as a cautionary tale,
but those guys have traveled further
than any professor who rails.
Once my very own uncle said
that they’re working class, and thus poor,
but some pull down sixty thousand,
my uncle can’t make that, I’m sure.
I was born to that ‘elite’ class,
the son of bureaucrats, lawyers,
raised to believe that a man should
go make a living by his words.
And yet I feel comfortable here,
I guess they’d say I’ve fallen far,
but we could live without lawyers,
without these men here, we would starve.
Some call suck folk ‘deplorables,’
but why is it a hated thing
to do the jobs someone must do
if people are to keep existing?
She is a beauty with her vaulted ceilings and cloisters.
Has been parading about for over a thousand years
Showing off her English gothic architecture.
Cathedral Church of St. Peter and the Holy and Invisible Trinity.
We have seen her in films and movies – The Hollow Crown,
Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Harry Potter.
She houses at Gloucester, Gloucestershire, UK.
She was once a pilgrimage for Christian seekers.
King Henry the Eighth established her current choir in 1539.
Today her choir boasts thirty-eight choristers and twelve adult singers.
So when you walk through, you are a historian, so much has gone on.
She is magnificent with her beautiful stained glass windows.
Her organ was constructed in sixteen hundred and sixty-six.
She has been the site of graduations, coronations, and weddings.
In medieval times she held daily worship sung by monks of the abbey.
Gloucester Cathedral, a gorgeous example of what architects can do.
I love the gentle snowflakes falling
floating down from the sky like feathers
drifting, twirling, dancing, whirling and prancing
blanketing my city magical white
I was born into snow
the wind howling through the trees like banshees
city drifts and cars slipping
I arrived a snow child
I like to stroll the city streets
as magical snow changes downtown
pigeons hover on the ledges
folding their wings together
Ottawa steeped in history
the buildings are old and beautiful
gray bricked, elegant and sturdy
many homes Victorians
My city boasts of many winding trails
but nothing is more amazing than in winter
a crisp, walk among sleeping trees
oh, love hiking past a frozen stream that still ripples
I have creaking rooms in an old city building
outside my window trees in all seasons are my view
but winter snow falling on my city stirs my soul
I can hear my beloved snow calling me
come, come, come outside my love
Love is no economics
To find the demand for emotions
and supply of attitude
there are no theories with many assumptions.
Love is neither commerce
With ledgers to tally
Trail balances to make
And results to publish.
Love is no mathematics either
With equations to solve
Add, subtract and multiply emotions
and write answers as abstract.
Love is no philosophy
To do rational investigations of the truths
Based on principle, knowledge, or conduct
And critically evaluate
Love is a feeling undefined
Love is in action neither practiced nor performed.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It has no envy, nor it boasts itself and it is never proud
Written: May 2nd, 2024
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Quixotic quest quiddity
As dusk sapidity emerges,
Casting a shadow
Weeping waves smash
in foamy scatters;
seraphic strophic sojourn
groans in a gossamer gaunt
Arid shadows fade.
In a hazy blur,
emptiness lingers.
Shorebirds console each other.
in epicedes of
velvety whispers
and elusive sighs.
Horizon amid
cinereous graffiti of
tear-stained threnody and
raven blooms.
It breaks my heart, too
with crimson, auric, and
plum, plum, purple wings,
why haven't you
returned
to me in spring?
to our moon-smeared love
& diaphanous elixir
amethyst kisses of
emerald ablaze,
spiraling in seductive
sapphire scarlet sounds,
Your love, a fiery flow
Flames aflame,
with gemstones aglow.
Dark ideas settle in
my head is akin to
a tombstone,
Obstructing—my judgment
early hours are lost
in the fog,
their significance dimmed
I succumb to allure
of nightfall and
I shut my eyes.
Acquiesce to inquiry
in heaven, each flower
boasts a mirror
to inveigle into each valley,
Beneath a sky of
countless clouds;
quaint lodge stands out,
surrounded
by a myriad of
shimmering ponds
capture a vast expanse
of coastlines.
Uncharted shores,
where vessels veered
toward vast seas,
untrodden by any praxis
As twilight falls,
coastlines curve in a crescendo
across horizon.
Cloaking hill peaks in mist.
loquacious verbosity
recognized in wisdom
beyond spectrum of
circumlocution.
In a flurry of
fading flowers,
faith-filled fields, &
fugacious felicity.
Snare drum rotunda
somberly chimes
within a forest,
Its dulcet echos rhyme.
We've wandered down
curious trails
basking in the sun
warm embrace;
In depths of shadows,
We've sought with fear,
an ambient arena,
vast and near.
Unveiling a shore infinite,
In an abyss where
every heart resides.
With its boundless skies
Andrew came in behind Daniel Dias,
Brazil’s most popular swimming star,
Three times at Rio: 2 bronze, 1 silver,
In the 50m butterfly, IM and the back.
He’s from Glasgow, born short limbed,
On the 29th day of November in 1996,
He boasts Mearns Castle High bricks,
And began swimming at seven years.
He benefited well and very truly from,
Scottish Disability Sport competitions,
By way of meets and gala occasions,
Where he scored across the boards.
In Berlin at the Europeans in 2011,
He won bronze for the S5 200m IM,
And also won the silver butterfly pen,
To explode onto the scene with grit.
Montreal in Canada and the Worlds,
In 2013, he secured 2 silver, 1 bronze,
In the back, the IM and the free lawns,
Where he just missed on a gold ace.
In 2014, European Championships,
Which were in Eindhoven in Holland,
Andrew, victory gold thrice did land,
Plus two front crawl freestyle silvers.
2015 and Glasgow’s World contest,
And Andrew won two silver medals,
For freestyle and for the back pedals,
And also won two bronzes, fought.
Then Funchal 2016 came, Portugal,
Which sent Andrew to the Rio Paras,
Because there he won 4 gold medals,
For back, 2 for free and for butterfly.