Long Cacophonies Poems
Long Cacophonies Poems. Below are the most popular long Cacophonies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cacophonies poems by poem length and keyword.
..............Baby Steps Out..
..........There's a waiting world
.......Doctors nurses eager staff
......A doting father, mother in pain
.....It is said that we chose our birth
....An act of free will, desired destiny
....The paths are all charted by our will
....This birthday I decided to recall..loll
......A memory jog, back to time of birth
.........An unborn peeping into his future
..............The little steps on roads ahead
.................Unfolding destiny milestones
.....................Cherished moments in wait
.....................Some vivid some smudged
.....................Hand drawn on masterprint
..................Paths to travel people to meet
................The resting places n thirst stops
...............Careful leaps on stepping stones
...........The journeys that were yet to unfold
.........All vivid in storehouse before take-off
.....In the sojourn I was told: Precious is birth
...In baby steps or our giant strides a purpose
.The joys or sufferings are like passing screens
There is an axis a polestar guiding & connecting
A constant the unchanging in all that is changing
Distracted get our senses by colors cacophonies
.Not difficult to lose the picture in such a journey
...Precious is birth- holds many a promise....es ....
......like many seeds...finding ground.. ..yes !!
.........pods germinate ..stored... ..loved ..
...............friends near far ...unmet :)
......................thank you.....<3.....
.................................Fam ....frnds
.........................................................for remembering
.............................................................flowing wishes
When the ocean swells the boat of life shreds shoddy anchor line
I put to words from pen and keyboard what matters most in time
and seek a buoy a float some flotsam dejected towards the storm
then hope for tides for rudder oars and compass worn and torn
Cannot want not pretend the sails are healthy all is mighty fine
attempt to find refuge shelter calmer waters in poetry and rhyme
listen to the climate forecast watch the stars that seem forlorn
seek charts and words’ expression transposing dusk to dawn
The waves and swelling torrents thunder remain whatever spell
fills sadness metaphors lost rhythm alliterations sent from hell
The weather remains whether or not I scribe my melody and tune
cacophonies or lonely harmony despondence hewn and strewn
In sink or out of kilter self soothing or shouting angrily is what I got
some scribbles join some dots to pointed hooks not to loose the plot
Apocalypse may find its way or not when Armageddon calls seduction
yet poetry verse narrative or stories fend of that teasing deadly suction
The worldly whirlpool will not succumb or surface because I put on paper
destruction mindless soul depression timid aspirations hopes or vapour
when steam cannot be rescued the pit and bottom loom away from shore
But writing keeps me just above the water line and I cannot really ask for
MORE
deck is stacked with black cats
hungry and forlorn
pressing in
bolts of thunder -
blinded with cacophonies
the ace of spades -
fear, bad luck, hatred, war
worry lines, frowns, battle torn
coal, night, pitch -
the starry night, disoriented
lost in oblivion
newgate’s knocker -
prison bars, color drained
from countenance, no kiss
in the abyss
midnight, a dog’s guts -
no clouds, moonless, open
to the elements
the iron cast - seasoned
to death
ebonic plague -
a poet’s drowning in ink
&
someone’s lighting a fire
under
the chimney sweep
8/3/2022
Trains run alight terminate on time like clockwork
never ending endless procession of precision conductors
the conducted walk down the line warped tracks of
cynically divided isles dead ends of ‘labour making free’
Evil strips uniformed confluence stripes and leather
Coated terrified collection production of space soap
horror lampshades shearing shorn haired tattoos the
undivided divide of power abomination horrid abnormal
‘normality’ represses guilt projected trans-re-and aggression
Evil does other in the guise of completed concentration
Concerted action blisters scorches screams cacophonies
children on father’s lap blue eyed dancing and laughing
kisses of love adoration cuddly dolls miniature life’s train
sets model schema roles toys games memories distraction
Evil giggles corporates shapes what past and future holds
Mothers craft homes happy families embrace posterity apple
pies devotion roast cinnamon cranberry turkeys tarts in ovens
pious allegiance compassion progress contrast splitting off piano
forte harmonious singing rejoicing at mantelpiece and altar
Evil mocks smouldering torches paradise’s apple deprivation
Juvenile followers of fashion compose indoctrinate compost
hail philosophy’s trampled ideology void of virtue meaning
distorted communion bread wine blind vision blind-sight vortex
trailing inscribing engraving present history timeless repetition
Evil tracks moribund humanity dignity degeneration and disgust
Unless we reflect examine investigate inside and around
us the smokescreens stacked ember ashes individual ‘Self’
universal pursuit of righteousness flames of denial denigrating
potential illuminate conscience honesty fallibilities blue prints
for darkness and unless we act and fight stand up and even then
Ubiquitous evil at this very moment will cast its seeds and shadows
will unbalanced fires raise their ugly head and minds and shoulders gas
and bullets terror grenades rockets mines warfare starving emaciation
lest we forget the prototypes the moulds automated conveyor belts evil
we can not abdicate responsibility for blatant murder of the human race
Auschwitz is everywhere and there is no hierarchy of evil
July 1st Independence Day (Canada)
On lazy uneventful afternoons
I sometimes venture into the quiet haven
that is my occupied mind as if a voice
in the wilderness beckoned me there.
It's always my favorite place to go...
on a day in disarray to contemplate
and expunge impurities that swirl inside
my head. I would sit beneath a tree as I trap
myself in the undertow of reverie,
submerging in the depth of serene solitude.
I go woolgathering on certain afternoons
in the meadow of my mind, listening to
the wondrous cacophonies of nature.
How delightful the mellifluous sounds
of chirping birds? The rustling of leaves?
Myriad of memories I long laid to bed
would spring awake as soon as I close my eyes
My thoughts would swing like a pendulum
between the past and the future.
It's amazing how much the mind can hold!
A miscellany of thoughts would continue to rage
as I linger there lost in the arresting scenery,
taking in the invigorating zephyr; how it soothes
my skin! It's the most beautiful escape
from the chaotic here and now
On lazy uneventful afternoons
I oftentimes linger there in meditation,
reluctant to leave such a peaceful oblivion,
but I must. I always do with bright smile
as I open my eyes again to a peaceful world.
Date written: 07/11/2016
Filtering through the empty broken balconies along the rivieras
are the waning cacophonies echoing monotonous songs,
“Merciless they are to us at the breaking of dawn”
Where life once thrived, we arrived in the city called the strip,
an open-air prison, an amphitheater without any spectators
insight, although the world is watching
We trudge onto yet another camp
The sun brings nothing, not anything more than light
that shines upon a smokey sky
I see more of nothingness, space, void, rubble
Everything is foreign and everyone has changed
All are cold, scared, and hungry, we walk aimlessly
In the hands of anyone unknowing if he or she's sane
There is so much fear, I am no longer safe
A new reality has come upon me
To the smell of death should I adapt?
A new day has dawned, morning has broken
Echoes pick up murmurs of others tears long spent
sifting through these ruins where I hide
Unattended unattached, no time for a sigh,
cry, or yawn, I am zombie like
The unrest of the last night has begun again
The recent blood red scenes now past
Yesterday's echoes filter one more reality
Will it be me today?
a resilient soul
hoists his drooping wings
dreary but dreamy
soars far
so high
he keeps on searching for his illusive dreams
regardless of the storm and height of mountains
goes through miles away
in his equanimity
straight with vision of sunrays
on plight are failures
not too bad
tries again
the mighty swords in his heart
so much patience and love help him to survive
in every vicissitude and kinks of his life
oftentimes
we can get the melody of what we want
if we allow the cacophonies to come
Dec. 5, 2012
Form: Suzette Prime
First Place
Contest: Suzette Prime: Prime Numbers and Philosophy
Judged: 12/14/2012
Poet Sponsor: Suzette Crous
"Poetry” is a most powerful instrument
like a flute that is to be played.
Also, it is a pungent possibility
like a newly created perfume put on.
Yet, free to all, and for all to wear.
This is to be adorned, and is
one of the most of the highest of solemn calls.
Words that are spoken and then engraved,
never to be forgotten or ignored.
It can reshape the world
that is in pieces and so, so torn.
A restorative medicine
to a life that is very, very worn.
An elixir of life and
a healer of lives beset by strife.
A lifter of our inner thoughts
and our buried emotions.
A fire-works of explosions
raising us up to a newer dimension.
A reversal of cacophonies, man-made devastations.
Words of pretty portraits and musical orchestras
of artistically crafted words:
Seamed stitched and woven and fashionably embroidered.
Also, made into a mighty steely shining sword.
A thousand drummers playing drums
within my head,
like firecrackers bursting,
Rivers of (whatever) oozing out,
Trickling eyes, prickling nose,
Snee..achoo!..zing...and sneezing...and sneezing!
Every muscle aches,
Feeling fatigued and flushed,
Puffy eyes, stuffy nose,
Bouts of throaty cacophonies come out uninvoked ,
Body sore, mood sourer..
Even the bed seems uncomfortable,
Pain deludes, sleep eludes (snuffle!)
Inflamed glands fight ill-famed flu,
Tasteless food, faceless foe, endless distress,
Don't come near! This is contagious!
Life is drear, this is outrageous!
Eyes flowing, nose-blowing!
And I feel like...
Chasing this flu away.
9th Feb 2023
For Charles Messina's "I felt like" contest
colored craving things arrive
reaching tender to assault
eyes unused in wintered
hollow months
grey and white and plain
becoming sudden kaleidoscopes
bleeding into landscapes,
drowning pain
with cacophonies of endless greetings,
as nature emerges
with energies and hunger.
awakening to spring
and living now again
along a garden wall
in shades of many trees
where grasses lean
to show the shallows
left by bended knees,
winter mourns her missing
finds the solace spring allows.
each year, the trees and grasses
form a springtime here.
shadows burst to life
inserting wisdom to our trowels,
flagstones, breadcrumbs,
streaks of dappled sun through arbor boughs.
clouds of every nation’s hue
the garden wall allows.
beneath the trees along a wall,
where mother earth colludes with all
to waken us again to waiting lives.
where we will walk again
into the morning light,
allowing the night
to pass over us.
we follow our footsteps west,
facing the sun, feeling its radiance upon us
as the kiss of day meets us there.
each morning, the border of a new frontier.
where things are quiet, unborn of fear.
finishings are left, beginnings yet to be.
new is all there is to see.
eyes searching skies here,
ears detecting clues.
hearts wait here
for the birth of their comfort.
upon a log
with gnarled burls
of hardened skin
we find a resting bench,
with green moss tablecloths
grown from the earth
by a slow-moving wisdom,
providing reflection,
this tree laid down its life centuries ago
knowing one day we would come
to sit upon its broad back
and learn that faith
is sharing life
through patience and sacrifice.
nearby, the ocean waves
create a spray that towers over all.
providing raindrops
sent to linger on the garden wall.
dew drops form on maple leaves;
however small.
although each soul is born to
a different medium,
spring shall bend itself to form a call
of new beginnings
giving birth to endings
that will one day
beckon every drop to find its fall.