Long Brassy Poems
Long Brassy Poems. Below are the most popular long Brassy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brassy poems by poem length and keyword.
On the main floor of the bus station in the windy city, I was being fooled, and my deceiver was going for the gold.
He was a con artist straight from the heartless streets of Chicago.
He spotted me long before I saw him, but I never saw him or ‘it’ coming.
I was an innocent naïve 17-year-old, straight from the Delta of Mississippi.
Where I was from, no one lurked, stalked, or skimmed to take advantage of me.
Like Eve in the Garden, I was alone, and an easy prey for anyone set an on evil deeds.
Like Eve, I was told what to do, but the deceiver was much more clever, and twisted things around.
Also like Eve, I listened to the lie of another, and before I knew it, I was believing his words and handing him a five dollar bill.
He was a pretender, but I learned the hard way to discern the difference between the reality and make believe.
Fast forward nearly 30 years, and the picture looks very different.
By then, I had learned about a brassy yellow material that looked like gold.
On a hot summer’s day, on my delivery route, I took a break on a river bank.
I stood on the banks of The North Folk of The American River in California. The clever deceiver was not human, but it sparkled and looked like the real deal.
I picked it up, and in a way I said, “You can’t fool me. You are ‘fool’s gold.”
11162016 PS Contest, But It Was Not Real, Lewis Raynes. Pl 8th
"Death is the mother of beauty;"
Death
as nothing is
not separate from
beauty~
death is
mother appearing
as beauty~
resulting in This
as it is~~~
She says, “But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss.”
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.
~~Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning
She was lady of Charpay.
She dressed formally every day.
Most of us called her Great Grandma Doll.
At one time she had been a gangster’s moll.
Swing that skirt, Grandma D.
Flash those gams, and wink at me.
Go back to Chicago, you sweet young moll.
Your gangster is waiting – handsome and tall.
Charpay had nothing on Great Grandma Doll
Dressed to the nines, so brassy and tall.
Her jewelry was totally glitzy
Her clothes pranced forth so ritzy
Swing that skirt, Grandma D.
Flash those gams, and wink at me.
Go back to Chicago, you sweet young moll.
Your gangster is waiting – handsome and tall.
The isle of britian..It shudders and shakes.' All is un-certain.' As up and down go the
Drapes.' The theatre is of shadows and brassy seems the glint.? Of crowns in a recess..And i feel the velvets become now as lint.' The actors and heros, well that cast never has changed..As a bridge stands on
Great columns, any strong country is the
Same, its the people..Who find fortitude if
The times become tough.' Who will stretch
Out and deliver..Even when the cost is too much, then there are some other actors like ' lowe and farage ' a skit on punch and
Judy..And they're playing it large.' old lowe
Is into ' fake meat ' he's invested some cash.' And farage sqealled upon him, mate
They row a spinning barge; of trash.' And the
State.? Well did i tell you? Anyway its locked up ( the truth ) and robinson works for zion..Now hows that for a boost.? Andrews been ' naughty and old mandy too ' I can see a real great upheaval
Its chilling but true, the king into wrong
food.? Maybe thats why he's been sick.? There is rumour of abdication.' Just what will do the trick.? They have bashed up the farmers.' Always a bad move.' Its like a disco? Yet theres no records.' Well they're hoping you'll forget..What else can't
They do.?
Hugo Blais Dier
and Alainise Val Ferda
to express there concerns
and opionions
of "the Cool- Sweet Sassy
Suitors" in modern Music.
She wrote the book
My Darn Music
He wrote the Song
"Modern Music"..
Which sumber's night
that lover's
require atmosphere
That the elapses shall sooth
into moring
each night before
to be the start of specail and
wonderful days.
Us as Lover's.
From a lack of interest in me
to the perfect concern
the none caring modesty
to the crazy need to be with you
when our music
became our theme
I found it wonderous
finding me to
be eager to allow
intimacy.
when arousal assign's d me
to
the right person
and it put me in the right place
that we could be in the perfect
condition
to create and recreate.
An evaluation of yesterday
and the monitor of devotion.
Where we than can predict the strength
of the mood!
Rich Citified and rey Grooves
with it's roots in riff's
scales and scores
percussing
stringing
woodwindish
brassy tones.
Move me and Inspire me!
Tenoroon and Crown
or
Fagotino and Bocal
"Ah- Vay Vin Chorer
She remain's only modestly
interested
and he wishes more"
ah we sigh
ah- we sigh
might they one
night wake in
morning in
full agreement
ah we sigh
ah we sigh
conflictio reseriolucio!
When will the sky sing to the abandoned arcs of my sonnets?
They remain subtle, yet soul-stolen by the sea of stone,
Could those storms stitch the sublime shimmer sinking through,
Silent yet sudden, secretly sensational,
I’ll play the rays you lusciously left longing for this momentum,
Breathing brassy beams barely breakable by the blades of the blaze,
Teach me the tunes of your truth,
Call me into your chaos with my delusions,
Kiss me when the sun sleeps,
Wear me as the moon dreams,
Hold the crying clouds over the vengeance of our vulnerabilities,
The furious fall is further than we dare speak of,
Let your bones bear the crown I seek to bestow,
For the bolted iron ornaments house the hologram of my ebony emerald enchantments.
I stare at the person in the video with scorn.
She looks like a skunk, with her head fresh-born.
White streak through the middle of hair of this mother.
which is dyed an unnaturally brassy red color
I am thinking doesn’t she know she looks bad or worst?
Of course, she is me, and I didn’t notice at first.
On the way home from work I deliberate, totally unwired.
Meet the teacher night is tomorrow but I am tired.
Come on! My voices shriek. We look exhausted, old.
We look ridiculous! We look hideous, ugly, bold!
Do I have to mention that ugly urged me toward a beauty shop?
Once that word entered my dendrites, I could not stop.
Even though I was exhausted I got my hair cut by an elf.
I confided I was going to go home to dye it myself.
I could do it for you, and it would be beautiful, she said.
That word meant everything, and eliminated more dread.
I called my husband to ask him to give the dog her pills.
I need another hour, I tell him. So pretty, you will get chills.
This magician is going to make me beautiful from head to chin.
And darned if she didn’t ….compared to how I walked in.
A true good sort of our beloved sport held court...name in hall of fame has its place but nought plaudits sought humility taught to face the rash race to slapdash and onslaught of all out pace which Kane fought and was slain again with a swish of his lions mane and lashings of panache & lacy grace..
His oeuvre could hang in the Louvre so arcane
Heavenly humility hums on simply higher plane
Angelic ability strums his rhapsody of restrain
Classy never brassy this balletic lullaby refrain
Symphony epiphanies aesthetic of his reign
Poetic ebb & flow kinetic that third man lane
Stoic almost prophetic that cricketing brain
Heroic skipper of champagne WTC campaign
Ascetic in the nets again insane how he’d train
So fond of his willow wand traditions to maintain
Never frenetic play to the conditions he’d explain
Textbook renditions history of Test tapestry retain
Weird mystery Robinson Crusoe beard did sustain
Stranded on isle of guile & wile is Kane’s domain
Martin Crowe did know such style you can’t feign
Never vain or inane with lacy grace did entertain
Didn't complain final mission got lost in the rain
Good sort of our sport from limelight did abstain
No disdain this knight's records forever remain
Memories of mastery & artistry will never wane
Last post gong is a love song feel the Kiwi pain
Goodbye Kane we will never see your like again
Alright still gobsmacked how we were
Attacked..hacked..hijacked...whacked
Ransacked cracked shellacked poleaxed
By his relaxed Rat packed knack maxed
So here's a witty ditty ode to Travis
No ifs or buts can't tut tut... annul it or cull it
Straight out of the hut a classy brassy strut
Gung ho have a go heave ho maestro Mullet
Slaying & flaying.. no rut just a glorious glut
Left a stark dark smut.. every bowler's a mutt
Like some flirty dirty sl*t playing with the nut
Hard not to swoon at the boon of the loon
Croon at Travis's off his Head buffoon tune
Stubby not chubby tad tubby like David Boon
Us staunch fans of the promising paunch gasping
Can't snub or sub.. like a lad down the pub or club
Another out of whack attack does launch rasping
Rogue's Bogan brogue.. flashes his blade like Shogun
Wizard of Oz as loved as X men's Logan or Paul Hogan
Dashes and lashes.."Taches win Ashes" the Travis slogan
Satsuma Tumour
Sense of Humour?
That Groomer Rumour
Cometh the Hour
Cometh the TAN!
People Power Glower should Flower
Grassy brassy knolls
But proles at the polls
Sold their Souls
To joust like Faust
Ignore Marcel Proust
Cower before the Ivory Tower
Odd bod elite’s law
Tweets of Sod and God
No Enlightening
Repeats the prism
Or algorithm beats
Every criticism schism
“Ism”..a frightening..lightning rod
Pot..black..kettle knack
Debauched cheats pedal to the metal
Out of whack flak attack
Unsettle our mettle
Plot to settle that score
Scorched and torched serfs
Any petal in fine fettle
& the earth's core