Long Borne Poems
Long Borne Poems. Below are the most popular long Borne by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Borne poems by poem length and keyword.
I reached into the depth...
But could not withdraw Excalibur from the stone.
Yet I knew I was the one.
Why else my 'Grail Vision' in the sun?
The depths call me to reach further still.
And Mary's eyes bled.
Realizing for whom the tear's shed.
I know not what to do.
Vainity reaching to withdraw from the glue.
I stare blindly in the distance a 'bust' of my former self.
Passing the secret of excalibur being drawn by someone else.
And passing by the oracle of Ephesus, Medusa's eyes
She drew the sword stone in deep catching my contemplations of the mirror.
I could loose myself in her forever.
Secret Sweets. Stained Sheets. and shaking cold she wraps me in the golden fleece.
Covered in snakes, I melt into the secret skin.
Learning the name, I see my fathers before me distrought.
And see now the blindness of the Kingdom Oedipus wrought.
Sophoclese Tragedies and I am forever Oedipus.
Betrayed blessin' between whorish thighs and my camarades' lies.
Where is Helena these days?
Gone so long, I've forgotten her ways.
That's the trick-she sucks in your depth.
I am Horus, my seeds sewn in the west.
Innana's dead. I broke my maiden-named womb.
Long ago I allocated multiversic kingdoms for Osiris' perversion tombs.
And in the mysteries of deep misery.
I have witnessed my seed coming of age.
To lay thoughts like these out on a page.
Christ, Annubis, and I planned this on a street in Greece, A.D., B.C. I can't remember which.
I bare down frost-bitten from the North.
And my Christ of peace bore symbols from the East.
Our dog-eared down-home friend brought simpler lessons from an outdated South.
And we witnessed our births spread out over time.
Three wise men we were singing dark-hearted songs of a blackened Madonna we couldn't find.
So we relinquished ourselves to Daddy Darkest who knew best.
Redistributed seeds, we pushed ourselves to a static line beyond myth; where men like us no longer needed to exist.
Sweet Virgin, Return
I am old and worn thin.
Now, is your time to begin; A collection of stories your heart has borne, but you lay unblemished.
My daughter lay our bones to rest.
Cook them in your stew.
Reigns handover long overdue, but that's not the style you do.
Don't worry about ole Paw. Jimmy Crack corn.
May you be Princess Disarming Charming laced with meaning...
And I awake sleeping...
Beauty, I next to you.
(1.)
Alas! So Shoot Me, I Grieve What Was Lost
Alas! So shoot me, I grieve what was lost
Not just youth, but those things Time took away
Within aching heart comes an icy frost
Covering epic pains of such decay!
One may ask, how dare I so complain?
Does Nature cry about hard falling rain?
Yet does not this world its ills promote well?
Oft with sorrows borne from depths of Hell?
Dare I choose to such dark verses to write?
Have I not truly joined in the fight?
Alas! So shoot me, I grieve what was lost
Not just youth, but those things Time took away
Within aching heart comes an icy frost
Covering epic pains of such decay!
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet, repeat stanza ( with triple couplets )
******
(2.)
Those Lush And Tender, Soft Welcoming Lips
Those flowing curls, glowing luscious mane
Sexy smile, flowering as desert rain
Bountiful beauty, sent to ease heart's pain
Lovely blessing sent for this soul to gain.
Ravishing essence with sweet touch to match
My hesitation, thinking what is the catch
That such a beauty would now my way pass
A goddess, sweet speaking to this poor lass.
Those lush and tender, soft welcoming lips
With true beauty, grace, and curvaceous hips
Yes beauty, as could launch a thousand ships
And greatest king's treasure surely eclipse.
Those tender kisses that were sent both ways.
May we forever - remember that day!
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet,
( And Life, Its Journey Ever Sped Onward )
******
(3.)
Does Basking Moon Ask Strolling Stars For More
Of beauty, earth, wind and soft glowing sky
Dares this artist to weep tears asking why
Heart and soul must pay such a heavy price
And shed blood for it to ever suffice?
Does basking moon ask strolling stars for more
Space and time to heavenly night explore
And cast upon earth a much deeper hue
To inspire such in poets such as you?
Does dawn its resplendent new rays withhold
That gift, that gleaming beauty to be sold
Or Mother Nature fail to gift new birth
Or poets fail to cast beauty's true worth?
Do such quizzing queries set well in verse
Or fail as being dated and quite terse?
Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet,
( And what of life, love and this thing we call earth ? )
Two faithful souls stand listless in the great big tower
overlooking the stranded city that once stood tall
yearning for a quiet place to lay their heads
while far beyond the deserted land
a soft blue light gleams gracefully above tranquil skies,
dancing shadows rocking to midnight tunes,
and sweet melodies echoing from the gigantic moon.
She spans more than a thousand feet long soaking
up the exhausted earth, her immeasurable depths
cuts and carve through valleys and streams
with clear blue water and powdery white sand
what more could you ask for on that distant land.
They have been planning this trip for many years,
but when the time draws near their saving disappears.
An empty refrigerator with two trays of frozen ice
lean against the corner of the kitchen
in their ten bedroom mansion
and a bare pantry exposing a slice of mildew bread
filled with little mice nibbling and playing tug of war.
Not many people knew their story
they have been broke for twenty years
but lived a painful lie, cutting corners
making back door transaction,
eating lamb and turkey from profits
made from sordid deals.
Their empire that once stood tall hangs in dismay
While it watches the world going up in flame
by those who continue to play treacherous games.
Sobibor and Hiroshima horrors of the past
Should have cleared the way for a more sophisticated path
But now athoroughfare mixed with complexity
packed with insidiousness
have ducks walking around
quacking without wings or tails
They finally got an offer to go to Utopia.
with packed bags not a penny in their name,
they set off for Utopia hoping to find a new life again
but when they got their it was the same old begrimed game.
Their entire world has been shaken,
shaken by its own guilt and self-reproach,
the transgression that their ancestors have borne
have been handed down for generations to shoulder
A land that they believe was pure and holy
has turned into nightmare and horror
dreadful things dismount in dark corners
women raped strangers abused
yet religion forms the core of the throne
They have witnessed empires toppled,
Kingdoms have fallen in their sight
Rulers have shaken and wept bitterly
causing the great big god to balance the scale
but blackmail in Utopia remains a formidable game
©2013 Christine Phillips
Warrior of Strength
Dealt a hand from the heavens, steeped in shadows’ embrace,
A warrior born from the ashes, a heart marked but not erased.
In the quiet corners of childhood, where innocence fades away,
Lurking specters, familiar faces, stole the light of day.
A father’s absence left echoes, a mother’s love turned cold,
In a world that turned its back, the silence grew bold.
At thirteen, trust shattered like glass underfoot,
Betrayed by hands once held dear, where darkness took root.
Fifteen came with a whisper, a dream turned to dread,
A boyfriend’s breath on my skin, the warmth now a thread.
A god brother's intrusion, steeped in violation,
A cacophony of trauma, a heart’s desperation.
Words like daggers, another fight,
Thirteen years of torment, where love lost its light.
A fragile baby cradled, in hope’s gentle hold,
Flickered and faded, a story untold.
Distance may dull some pains, but deceit’s blade cuts deep,
Manipulation’s shadow looms, even while I sleep.
Yet amidst this tempest, a flicker begins to glow,
A spirit forged in struggle, a strength only few know.
At thirty-seven, the weight still feels grim,
A new label emerges, like a fate turned dim.
But within every battle, every wound borne and faced,
A warrior is rising—each trial embraced.
When will this end? A question so raw,
But love does brew from the chaos we saw.
Through the valleys of sorrow, and the mountains of fear,
There’s a strength intertwined with the pain that brought tears.
So let the world see—the scars are my art,
A testament to resilience, a warrior’s heart.
For every hand dealt poorly, every burden I bear,
I rise from the ashes—I’ve grown stronger, I swear.
In the wreckage of hardships, my spirit reclaims,
The power of voice, the strength in my name.
Through the shadows that linger, through each twisted path,
I’ll wield my own story, embracing my wrath.
For in this new chapter, as I stand head held high,
I’m more than the battles, I’m the strength to defy.
With each breath a reminder, in the face of my plight,
I’m the warrior of strength, born from dark into light.
Inspired by my life so far. Always felt like I was dealt a bad hand but now I know I was dealt the warrior's hand now 38 years old, I now deal with one of the most painful mental disorders when will the pain stop.
There is so little time,
this life running out
So many people to see,
no doubt
For life is leaving me
This new dimension
All to give
This new situation
Not long to live
This armour stripped day by day,
leaving the vulnerable you
You don't have time
and you know it too
The words you want to say
This anguish,
so little time,
every day,
an extra wish
This fragility,
like glass,
are shattered
Its finality,
only the love mattered
So little time to spare,
for the things to say
straight from the heart
For, you do care
You must say today
Furious anger
at your weakness
There is so little time,
you must say today
For there is no tomorrow
only sorrow
This thing eating you,
powerless to stop
Hurts too
The people left behind,
love is blind
This pain hard to take,
but you learn to fake
So little time
The things you want to say
This pain won't go away
Growing day by day
Agonising so
The pain you face
You feel so low
The pain you bear with grace
This hope has gone
The family weep
The big "c" has won
Inwards they turn
In too deep
This final goodbye
This release from pain,
the family sigh
This pain borne for so long
with strength and foritude
inpired us all
For you walk tall
You did no wrong
So little time to spare
So little time for words to say
but we knew you cared
Pain day by day
Your message sent
But I knew what you meant
When you went
Your message sent
I knew what you meant
Spirit to fly
The family cry
So little time
The family know
One day...........
we all say
Our lives ...so short
So small,
yet dying affects us all
but we are caught,
for our time is short
These battles fought
So little time to spare
Live for the day
So many words to say
This hour glass,
running out fast
So little time
So much love
So much to give
Not long to live,
before you are taken,
you are not forsaken
The gentle passing
you have been taken
your soul taken into god's care
you are not forsaken
no time to spare
but the loved ones left behind
do care
no words are spoken
your spirit awoken
your spirit to fly
no pain
we will see you again
the gentle passing
hourglass shattered
only love mattered
on this passing
Form:
Make haste to befriend the toro meanly reared away from spectator prying eyes
by dread alone the bull is nurtured and prodded to terrify
and when at last the ranchero’s silhouette appears in the arena it charges
Wake! India! Wake!
There are no greater mysteries than those your scientists can unravel
the only mysteries that persist are those drummed by priests into your brains
even a helpless Stephen Hawking can pierce the Aryan mystery by silent reflection
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek power in the polls seek it for their own sakes
sooner or later sooner than later they too will pass away
their power gnawing at their bones will feed the etherising flames of their pyres
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek to challenge their power challenge it for their own sakes
they too will rot in the chains they have willingly chained themselves in
for they too seek power for the sake of power and for theirs and their own comfort
Wake! India! Wake!
And let them all pass over you you who have borne in quiet pain
mauling under the pretext of mournful migrations and the Mughal might
Mohenjodaro and Harrappa notwithstanding Vijayanagar and Kaveripumpattinam
Wake! India! Wake!
Do not for a moment think your sons have deserted you
nor your daughters gone to spawn with other spouses under other suns
your needs are their needs your tears their blood coursing in their veins
Wake! India! Wake!
If you had woken up earlier to tend to your shores to tend to the marauders at the border
letting only the lone Kshatriya exert his martial art abused by fine courtly comfort
you would not now wonder how a Rajput court at Mewar drove Akbar to such lengths
Wake! India! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 10)
Zika Virus What Next
It is officially announced, there is a global health emergency...
World Health Organisation (WHO) has just issued this health warning...
The rapid spread of the Zika Virus is an international public health emergency..
From its first outbreak was detected in Brazil in May last year...
This mosquito borne disease now threatens in more than 20 countries....
Latest to join the strickened Latin American countries are Costa Rica and Jamaica.
The science behind the global outbreak of this disease is of much concern...
For the Zika Virus was first encountered in a rhesus macaque monkey in Uganda..
It is very worrisome, for this disease has jumped from animals to humans...
The rapid spread was in part due to the lack of immunity in our species...
It is after all a virus that profilerated before only in the monkey species....
Its drastic spread in the Latin Americans now necessitates travel advisories...
Once afflicted, a human victim suffers 2-7 days of low grade fever, joint pains..
No fatalities yet, but symptomatic patients suffers a facial rash that spreads ...
Diagnosis is tricky, its symptons easily confused with other mosquito diseases...
But the greatest danger is threat of brain damage and microcephaly in new born babies...
And the spread of the virus through sexual contact and the blood stream is for real...
Prevention is better than cure, so is precaution before things get out of hand..
The common denominator in the rapid widespread of this scourge is a pesky insect...
One tiny little hellish insect with little wings that stridently brings victims into contact...
A little nip from an infected insect, the Zika virus is introduced into the victim's blood stream..
This dangerous little pesky insect is none other than the common mosquito...
To be specific it is the tiger stripped and blood thirsty Aedes mosquito...
Prevalently found in early morning hours and in the late afternoon daylight hours ...
Get the bug spray, the insect repellant and out with the electric killer bat...
Do whatever it takes, so long you escape from the irritating mosquito bites..
Kill the Aedes mosquitoes, and save yourself from Zika, dengue or chingkunya virus...
http://www.webmd.com/news/20160203/zika-microcephaly-link
http://www.futurity.org/zika-microcephaly-1115772-2/
In a world where beauty's often measured and defined,
A girl at twenty, had dreams intertwined,
She sought about change, a shape to embrace,
But little did she know, it would alter her grace.
Every glance in the mirror, she’d sigh,
She longed for the curves, the world defined.
Then came the implants, a promise of light,
A chance to feel whole, to finally feel right,
But the joy was fleeting, as symptoms arose, Beneath the surface of beautiful flesh, her whole body ached.
Her headaches and pains made life hard to take. Suicide sometimes seemed the easiest escape.
All the strange illnesses that whispered in her ears loved to perform in the shadows of her fears
With a weak immune system and pains so severe shed scream "Let me just die! "to the heavens about but it wasn't her time, she couldn't give up.
She wore her struggles like a cloak made of fear,
Each day a battle, each moment unclear.
Years rolled on, twenty-seven in tow,
With every new ache, her spirit felt low,
Yet deep in her heart, a flicker remained,
A hope for a future, unchained and unfeigned.
She scheduled the surgery, her heart in a twist,
What would she look like? Would she cease to exist?
The implants, her armor, her identity’s thread,
But the thought of release filled her heart with dread.
With courage she stepped into the bright, sterile room,
A leap into freedom, away from the gloom,
As the surgeon worked gently, she felt a release,
A shedding of burdens, a whisper of peace.
And when she emerged, a new dawn in her eyes,
The reflection before her, a beautiful surprise,
No longer defined by the weight she had borne,
She blossomed like flowers, anew she was born.
With each passing day, her health found its way,
The headaches subsided, the aches turned to play,
A vibrant young woman, with laughter and light,
No longer a shadow, she danced into night.
Her journey was long, but the lessons were clear,
True beauty is found when we shed all our fear,
In the mirror she saw not just curves, but her soul,
A radiant spirit, finally whole.
So here’s to the girl who dared to be free,
To embrace her own self, to finally see,
That beauty’s not measured by what’s on the skin,
But the strength of the heart, and the joy found within.
Triumph
Frank Halliwell
In silence, in the velvet night,
lit by pinpoints of vivid light,
I wander blindly to the south,
immersed in frigid seas.
My age is lost in time's shadows,
..in aeons of primeval snows,
Borne from the Greenland glacier fields,
far from the warm land breeze.
My drift; by currents is maintained;
my course; by fate is preordained,
Before midnight I drift inside..
the busy shipping tracks.
A lookout spots me in the dark,
a radio transmits the spark.
I am reported to the world
and cautious souls react.
But from the east this winter night,
a black colossus steams in sight,
Racing to the west despite
the danger waiting there!
Her goal is shipping dominance,
her high speed fueled by arrogance,
Before the night is over,
the result will be despair.
I wait, and I feel no remorse,
in spite of the collision course,
For I am just a passive player
in this deadly play.
They've seen me now, but much too late,
and there is no escaping fate,
A glancing blow is struck and leaves
her plates in disarray!
My mass absorbs the mighty shock;
my body solid as bedrock.
I shatter not, nor tremble
as the ship glances away.
The icy water rushes in,
filling compartments to the brim.
Fifteen hundred doomed to die
seek refuge in dismay!
But there is none; nowhere to go,
the frigid water is the foe!
The ship is listing badly now;
the end is near at hand!
Lifeboats are lowered with all speed,
but are too few to fill the need.
'Nearer my God to Thee' is heard,
played by the doomed ship's band..
The stern rises above the waves,
then plunges to her watery grave,
A plume of air and flotsam mark
the place of her long dive.
Water too cold to sustain life,
kills them as surely as a knife,
And in a mere ten minutes
none of them are left alive!
The cries and shouts and prayers have ceased,
the sea returns to lonely peace.
The engineering triumph rests
among the crabs and snails.
The news is spread around the world
and flags at half-mast are unfurled,
Fifteen hundred families
are left to weep and wail.
In silence, in the velvet night,
lit by pinpoints of vivid light
I wander blindly to the south
immersed in frigid seas.
My age is lost in time's shadows,
..in aeons of primeval snows,
Borne from the Greenland glacier fields,
far from the warm land breeze.
>>> Titanic is gone.
***
On comes a traveler from lands that I have not wandered only visited
Bringing with him memories of the pains I have borne through my life
Like the desert whose dunes I dared only once to climb when youth held me fast
A fleeting grasp, a tentative hold that was as it must be for us all I have come to see
In those valleys of sand where the sun drank from my body ravenously to crack my skin
I saw only once the whispering vision of life in the distance
Shimmering in the heat of the burning sands stood an oasis many miles deeper
So I set out with that vision hardly in my mind across the desert
Over mountainous dunes and into abyssal valleys with the sun raking my back
I walked and then I crawled when my feet became blistered stumps rubbed raw
I crawled until my hands and knees bled
I crawled until I held my head high no longer
Still I wandered, still I moved despite the sand choking my eyes closed
I crawled my body burned and my eyes blinded by sun and sand
Only to find my way back to this shack on the Desert’s edge
My journey had betrayed me I believed
My journey had twisted me all around I thought
Until today when came a wanderer through the desert forge
To sit down and rest with heavy sigh and cloud of slowly settling sands
On his shoulder sat a grey old owl watching me silently with eyes of tired wisdom
In his arms the man carried his second friend a satyr with ivory pipes to match his horns
I nodded in quiet solitude rocking back and forth in my old wooden chair
So it was that we listened to the gentle creaking of the wood
Listened to thunder rolling in off the great Blue Divide
Listened to wind shushing through the leaves of Heaven’s Gate
Felt the heat wafting over us from the Desert’s edge
Neither of we two speaking, only listening until at long last with the sun beginning to set
The satyr stirred just enough to lift the pipes to his lips and then to play
A hauntingly sweet song of blissful sorrow like age-old memories of lost youth
And we listened to him play his song long into the night
Until the stars failed to shine and the curtain of day touched the veil of dreams
“Time to leave, time to go, time to say farewell
For there are roads still to travel and I have yet much to see
And so long a way to go,” he said with a quiet voice of strength