Long Callow Poems
Long Callow Poems. Below are the most popular long Callow by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Callow poems by poem length and keyword.
Invisible, you are, but always, there,
as your sands, fall steadily, grain by grain,
while callow youths forget you without care,
you tick off days of happiness and pain.
Each moment, and each tiny grain of time,
as it goes from the future to the past,
can only fall, and never can it climb,
as those bygone days cannot be recast.
While your slim waist, but one grain will allow,
soon the last one's grim outcome will be wrought,
as I approach the closing, final "now",
I find solace in a comforting thought.
My grandchild's birth is coming soon and then,
hourglass, you'll be flipped over once again.
Once there was a girl, with stars and moonbeams in her eyes,
Who sat with me beneath a willow tree.
She gently held my hand,
Caressed and kissed me, and
Vowed that she was mine and loved me so.
How sweet that moment many years ago.
Once a callow boy, with fame and fortune as his prize,
Looked at her there 'neath that willow tree.
He laughed disdainfully and cried,
"Your world's too small, my scope's too wide
For you to comprehend." And he said no.
How sad that moment all those years ago.
Once upon a time, being selfish and unwise,
I had no time for love and bade it go.
But fleeting fame flew by so fast,
And fickle fortunes didn't last.
The friends and lovers I'd pursue
Were, like me, shallow and untrue.
Once there was a time my world was sweeter than I knew.
I held true love in my grasp but let it go.
How quickly, since, the years have flown,
My fortune, fame, and youth are gone,
Remorseful now, I wish in vain
That once upon a time could come again.
Sam comes from that fantastic cathedral city,
Of majestic Coventry where there’s reconciliation,
Of people’s of different wartime allegiances,
For a brotherhood and forgiveness attestation;
He is partially sighted, born 1985 in the 80s mighty,
Went to Alderman Callow school, no compliances,
So he moved to specialist school Exhall Grange,
Had the purple house named after him for Judo,
Which his brother got him into for his range,
After broadcasting at Falmouth University to go;
He got silver at the 2007 Worlds, then again in 2010,
Bronze at the 2008 Paras, gold 2011, the Euro pen.
Sam came second in the 2012 Paralympics,
Third at the Euro 2015 Portugal Championships.
Stare all over, O World, you scarcely utter.
Bear stalwart angels to arise over the air tugger.
Odoriferous water may abscond the realm of prosily.
Such as the Goddess of Heaven perpetrates an odyssey,
Please, Lord, I pray you are aware of my plea heed.
The blunder I committed thwarts a significant need.
My wickedness is crucial to fade as it's such a bigwig.
I aspire that everyone will stay ready for the callow sprig.
My trudge to the palatial gateway has formally begun.
I'm embedded in the exacerbated curse greaten.
We embody no faith in eliciting heavenly mercy.
And will do it as soon as I can from a gallows tree.
My mighty task was a cipher accredited to splendor.
Plus, the angels yielded me their smoldering ember.
They allotted me munificently for their rare care, too.
Failed my mystical prowess to beckon them, they mellow.
Below kaleidoscopic bulwarks or in a raving creek,
In bosom nirvana, we withdrew the draughty bleak.
I earned a lasting bliss than one could dream.
And I willingly sieve to share my peaceful stream.
Written: December 15, 2021
A STRAND (DEC 26) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
O what a time we had,
we had a time of it didn't we,
you in your stripy flouncy dress
and pink kneed splendor,
and I dragging a foot behind you,
as callow and unrisen as
a half-baked pudding.
We between us
had the blindly brilliant knowledge,
of everything not worth knowing.
We had textbooks and crayons,
to color bluer an already blue sky.
Our heads held high,
in the fancy hats of headlong youth.
God, I loved the smell of you,
not your dabs of perfume,
but the buttercup musk of you.
That afternoon I played rugby,
while you watched your bruised hero,
galumph and totter all over a muddy field.
God was kind to us wasn’t he,
he made every chicken dinner sunny-side-up,
he tinted our eyes with a simple wonder
for a while,
didn’t he?
Can I love you again, just for a moment,
love us both in this dumb poem,
that I hope speaks for everyone
at least once.
dead end street …
mostly elderly when we came
always quiet …
empty nests side-by-side
aching for spring
but winter came instead
(the winter of life)
friends … good people -
town folk who raised this little
borough with pride
came to this blind alley to wait for God
and He obliged …
one-by-one, this road of
retirement rolled over …
the reap saw these quiet abodes
flipping fast and furious
and the once-aged occupants were
replaced with families -
young professionals and upstarts
fresh-woven nests filled with
chicks and younglings -
little voices and wings to test
upon the breeze
training wheels and swing sets
where lounge chairs once grazed lazily
backboards and rollerblades
and a valid reason for the ice cream
truck to loiter, it’s silly music box
jingling the afternoons with cold, tasty
wonder-in-a-cone …
time - passing like a subway car -
just a flash in the dark …
grain-by-grain the
hourglass steadily sifted
and a once-peaceful lane became
a circus of activity -
giggles and screeches replacing the
silence with the music of life
the rarely-a-car avenue, vibrant and joyous
picnics and lawn parties
birthdays and showers and fireworks
playballs left unattended
bicycles laid at the curbs in a rush
pets being walked
and the commonplace, everyday things
started being … every day …
oh, no mistake -
I loved the quiet when we came
and tho’ I dread the winter months now -
the post-Christmas cold, dead and
long-dark days, grinding on me
like a ragged old dirge -
that quietude and peaceful contemplation
is STILL one of life’s greatest
“little pleasures” to me …
yet … it’s the NOISE that I’ve come to
miss the most this time of year -
those little voices of
youth and vibrancy that sing me
through the warm months,
reminding me what being here is
all about, and making me
yearn more than ever
the sweet, joyous, callow kiss …
of Spring.
(Photo of Maplewood Drive by yours truly)
Written: November 17, 2023 For Charles Messina Contest
___________________________________________
In peace of mind and unwavering pride
Draw out your inner disgruntled callow
Expunge ailing masks and set them aside
Shackled and phony leaches start shallow
Untamed freedom leaves a rage of delight
Lightning strikes when volition avails reign
As the noise of fists and yells echoes fight
It implies launching rough assaults again
This momentary gladness won't last long
Dark distress derides its way to the fight
And celebrates its mocking with zest strong
Frenzied fractured fragments into full-sight
Constraintis like an itch that chafes the mind
Shields the vile impulse that we must all bind
gladness won't last long
expunge ailing masks aside~
untamed freedom roars.
Shackled leeches start shallow, rage of lightning strikes~constraint chafes the mind
Woman, woman that I loved uncommonly
Several springs ago
When the weather was good and callow
When the wind whistled swiftly, low and slow
Oh! Woman, you were young, strong and sparkling
Darling, now you're deceased
Lying down and sleeping comatose on your back
Calm and motionless like the water
Of the paralyzed pond, staring at the sky
Eyes hermetically and conveniently closed
Where everything seems supernatural and artificial
I wonder and ponder where I'm diving
If it's an illusion, a nightmare or a dream
I don't feel good: I'm unbalanced and demented
I’m disappearing into the shadows
Where everything is dark and gloomy
Like my blood. I feel that my everything
Is gone and swept away by sadness
I'm drowning in a mercurial lake of inebriety
My God! Yes, I’m in pain indeed
I’ve lost the most beautiful mermaid.
Woman, woman, you were genial and lovely
The voluptuous gal that I loved so much
Do you remember? I frittered a lot of time
Revering you. I found myself on the slippery slope
I, too, will die like you
Woman, woman, heavy and ghastly is the cross
Where I am exposed today
The cold freezes me and the sun bakes me
I'm sad and devastated like wilted flowers
And you, apoplectic, silent and enshrined
I am suffering, weeping and dying too
I don't want to stay here anymore
My heart is weary, sorrowful and besieged
I am crying and suffering. My strength has left me
I am drowning in pain in the lake of boozing
I'm perishing too. I don't want to live anymore.
Woman, woman that I loved so much
We are no longer in springtime
But almost at the infancy of autumn
The bells are ringing and the children are banging
There is no rainbow in the sky
I am alone, in tears and very sorry
In the labyrinth of the necropolis
May the earth be infinitely light to you!
P.S. Translation of ‘Ode À Yseult’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © September 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
the ivy crunches ‘neath my boot
cold sounds that crisp the winds
a snow has left its whitened soot
not just the ground
but with age found
my head and cheeks … and chin …
I walked here in my younger years
these vines then new and green
my heart baptized with callow tears
from then ‘til now
each solemn vow
and all oaths in-between …
the mem’ries of this green-clad place
disturb my thoughts to yearn
for how these buildings did embrace
each soul and mind
that searched to find
through toil, what it could learn …
I stumbled there from brick to brick
thru schoolwork, loves and friends
but most of life came much too quick
and good or bad
that bumbling lad
climbed ropes too near their ends …
now here I stroll those bricks, the same
day’s close paints pink, the reach
I see each face, each smile, each name
of those, then dear
but now, I fear
too far-flung to beseech …
still, priceless are the days now gone
and precious through their end
for mem’ries push me always on
to quite adore
life making more
sweet days like this to wend …
sweet days … like THIS.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, March 11, 2024
( photograph of my prep school, North Yarmouth Academy, taken from my 1976 yearbook )
Where ... oh where
Are you??
Do I sink the darkness to find you ...
Clamber the divide?
If I plummet that black of oblivion
Will you be there ...
Waiting?
Admonishing?
You HAVE to be somewhere
I can't see you, hear you, touch you
Anymore ... any
Weeping countless bouts
Screams in blathering silence
But never an answer
I NEED an answer!
You can not be just this ...
The dust and pieces in my hand
Not you ... larger than life
I scrape sense from the floor of this ... cage
Bound by breaths to life's prison
While you soar unfettered
Where?!?
I want what never wanted me
Still a child ... callow
Craving a touch
A care ...
That will never come.