Long Caped Poems
Long Caped Poems. Below are the most popular long Caped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caped poems by poem length and keyword.
concerning Iran (a brief letter to the american voter)
dear miss or mister
still-believing-in-the-“dream”---
which face that you see being displayed on your
screens,
do you think will get us into a war with Iran
first?
will it be mr. hope & change,
whose translucent slogans were
transparent to many of us,
even prior to his ascendance,
whose own hands became bloodied/dirtied on
the way up,
and who now spends his time
twisting on the marionette stage
to the hand motions of the moneyed interests
who fueled his first campaign &
who have fueled his present one?
as the manipulators of mr. hope & change
make him continue to strangle Iran with sanctions,
pull funding from Palestine &
pump more & more money into
militarized & already nuclear
Israel,
will the region get any more peaceful?
will all the countries who showed their dissent with the
Arab Spring
then become the little slaves that the empire wants them to be
under mr. hope & change,
further gearing up hatred,
encouraging the next 9/11 on US soil
as a direct result?
hmmm.
will it be mr. romney, mr. santorum, mr. gingrich or
mr. perry, whose combined complete lack of concern for the
citizen of the empire & wanton militancy
will sacrifice everything to crush the last stronghold
left in the region
(who refuses to bend over the table for america
so that it can install another Shah &
rape it of its oil)
in the name of the war on “Islamic Fundamentalism,”
whose characteristics seem all too familiar
if you are watching the whole thing happen from a television in
the
“Evil Empire?”
hmmm.
will these iron-fisted capitalists
who make fun of the unrest within their own country
by blaming the unemployed for the occupation of wall st. etc.,
march into Iran
(like the christian caped crusaders that ya know they see themselves
as---finally getting to convert the infidels after all these years,
with the big american military *****)
like they marched into Iraq &
they marched into Afghanistan
only a few years ago,
to incinerate the country &
start building permanent bases there with money that
could have been spent on
universal healthcare for americans,
better education for american children,
new employment opportunities through making america
green &
paying off our own debt?
how many Iranian citizens are going to die because of
the american empire’s hegemony & hubris?
hmmm.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBZACUxTFLU&feature=related
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""Papa what about spring... ?"
"I don't know Son, Killdeer-draw-
you-away from their-nest, Blue-jays-
holler-to-all about-it, hungry-father
fox he knows-about-it... .
Kinder-yes I think-much gentler-Spring,
when the-rejuvenation is just first-arriving-
reminds-me of the-back-and-breaststrokes-
holding-your-breath while-doing-a-crazy-twirl,
all-the-(W)orld-alive-with-energy-(S)urrounded-
(T)ogether-in-warmth.
Saw three of them Kamikaze my humble dog-one
day. Samba just hit the grass rolled over boxed away-
at-them old Blue-jays on his back-yelping; I laugh, he
was-just a pup-then.
Best way to compare it... I would think Spring;
"The-hands of-time are-alliterate-Spring-is-but-the-brunt of this-
each Season-carry's snow-caped mountains-berries in-the-valleys-
lilies-in the-meadow-pine in the woods squirrels-rummaging-in-the-
trees.
Bird-Dogs are quite capable of pointing this out... as still-this-hope,
Spring-it-is I believe its-rejoinder-to-us for our-Winter's-supplications,
the-(h)arvest of-the-(w)heat-in the-fall (S)pring-rains I feel-remind-(u)s.
The Summer-Sun-always toasting-the memory's golden-brown... .""
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FF-pzG_XWY
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-i-rise/
http://www.bartleby.com/119/1.html
http://www.bartleby.com/118/2.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18CJGlp5eiI&feature=related
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=269419
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I
I am disinfected, sanitised from touch and eyes
Do not hold me. I am Bakelite and you smolder
Sat solid, the wall cold against my spine. A back-rest
To concrete electrocution.
I am distilled from Suburbia and Bohemian at Brandenberg
Rigid and saturnine. Heavy lidded Lichtenstein moons
And ruby lip and cheek.
Dumb-flustered and silent rictus
Nothing changes.
II
She edges closer with ostentatious mute steps. Like a bride
And thrice as white with crimson orb flowing underneath
Her caped wings and paper hat. Tiny dragging movements
As though her legs could snap
This marionette matchstick girl unfurls her bouquet of fingers intertwined
And ruffles from her drapes fragments of paper and a tiny plastic cup
I do not notice her. The bleach sticks heavy to the throat and
She envenoms me to the core stomach
She speaks. It is static heavy and foriegn, black-lipped vowels and dull
Continuations of barely literate sounds.
My words are daggered brutes, any poetry the less of my expectations
Is instantly meaningless, crass, common, nauseous and disgusting
Her flowing prose was illegible on those lips. Sounding almost spat
I could have silenced nine decades to my two and circled her in criticism
She would never understand with her barely-English cold translations of her
Own English mother-tongue.
III
People are fascinating
Occassionally
I find I look at them and linger, I study them and calculate their complex algebras
Undoubtedly we are products of our parents and the less of us by-products
We are strings and apples and figs
The woman with her ghost-white face and dress. Her parents were too strict
You can see it in her face, how if you even turn away her eyes circle with bags
And she feels lost, she could cry a thousand summers and undoubtedly should trade my place.
As of my own parents they probably loved me too much. Sheltered me and then
Stopped abrupt as death and cyanide fizzing
Suddenly trading my lineage into friendship and smiles and no, do silence yourselves
I am a maypole and the strings circle about me
Life and ambition they feed upon me, draining me in complex nervous disorder
I am a living question mark
I can feel it
Eating below my skin.
XIAO LING
I wish I knew you well ?, I wish I knew what is in your heart ?
I stepped out of my bleak, four cornered room on Sunday.
I stepped out from my sterile four walled prison to day,
walked with the sun on my face, warming the hours,
as I walked with the Ghost of you in my arm,
you, leaning into me like you used to do.
Visions of your beauty, your lovely face
graced the blue skies before me,
taking me to heavenly places
I once knew,
with you.
I saw the essence in you, dancing upon the face of
Mother Nature, Mother Earth with such joy
as your Ghost and I walked hand in hand
along the dikes (both sides) of the River
Pitt with thoughts of you and I and all
we once shared, carrying me through
the pain, the tears I shed like falling
rain drenching the earth beneath my feet.
Soggy, thoughts that we might meet once again
this time, you could feel for me, as I feel for you.
I watched the sun gaze passed the cloud cover,
wash away the ugliness, expose the whiteness,
turn the grey snow, caped mountain tops
into a clean blanket, gleaming white
and I began to wonder ?, if I will
know, no more grey skies.
Will white snow fill my eyes ?,
as I walk with the Beautiful Ghost of you,
in my arm, leaning against me like you used to do .
B. J. "A" 2
March 24th 2011
You know Xiao Ling, there is so much I would have loved to have done with and for you. I guess?, now that you have others to do for you, I will never again, know the pleasures of giving to you all that I was capable of, all that you would allow me. It saddens me Xiao Ling, to think that I will never again get to do even the little things for you .
Gone are the the oppertunities !,?, like the sun, behind the storm clouds ( your anger, your disappointments ) that have been hovering above my head like bombers waiting to drop their load on me, to watch them explode on me .
I am so very SORRY Xiao LIng, for every mistake, for every discouraging, disparaging remark / word that came from out of my mouth, for every act ( kissing, hugging, caressing, touching, etc., etc. )that upset you so .
I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me .
You have a great life !
LOVE
BILL .
One colored page at a time
I touched the field of amber pleadings
with eyes only sure enough to find that hidden light
Long lost in the sea of forgotten grasses,
brown from the sun, parched by a drought,
exhaling diversions as I stand facing time,
expecting faces to appear but hands caught the sorrow,
passing it down to an earth that is baked and sore,
thirsting for more, a longer plain in this universe
Weeping cocoons snug in the brambles
oblivious to what the outside wears,
blend in with the endings slowly creeping
awaiting metamorphosis
as a tree falls, no noise, no energy for that
Rooted in dismay, clogged by last season’s air,
pausing only to capture one final view
of the smoke stacks, brick faced commandos,
circular spewing pillars
where beneath wealth is created
but eternity is shortened at wholesale prices
Grey skies, a constant color palette
pressing doom and gloom
into the landscape, fitted like wedges,
force fed in spoonfuls of ignorance
Gathering place settings at my feet,
stirring up dust, blurring the wishers
wondering where the water went,
as not even mud stands a fighting chance
When on a hill I see them, the youth,
our future, backpacks and bubblegum
Marching to the beat of a new drummer,
right, left, right left, neither
somewhere in the middle
Reading comic books about heroes,
caped crusaders who will save the planet
(that must be what the S stands for)
one colored page at a time
Holding balloons, once sagging,
now inflated and reaching for a sun
that still faintly shines through the curtains
hung by those in denial, nice tapestries
they shred in defiance and desperation,
challenging destinies and fate,
as if fact is nothing more than fiction,
and fiction is something to be changed
And I sit in the dirt, leaving my impression
for that is all I have left, no questions that
have not been asked, no solutions
that remain passed over, just a wild hair
out of place in this take all world
as highways trickle across farm lands
and corn fields are as barren as my stare
But there is hope…there is always hope
I hope
My life flutters by, like a butterfly.. a lullaby,
Making me cry and sigh, untill I die,
I'm lying here thinking.. it's all been a waste,
Just a hasty taste, of all the pleasures I've chased.
This P.M.A, which I display, every day,
Is the only way, I'll make it through.. yeah, I'm Okay,
Positivity, with a Darkside twist,
Missing the point.. do I even exist?
I kissed the lips of fate, now I cannot escape,
The caped-crusader, keeps me safe, from ass-rape.
I predict, great things! For me, at any rate,
Inflating my ego, fashionably late.
Now I've arrived, only the Fastest will survive,
Use your double talking jive, none will be left alive!
But If you don't attack.. I won't have to defend,
And send you to Hell, let's pretend this is the end.
Draw up a treaty, sweety. What we want is Peace,
Not monopoly on World War 3, this madness.. it must cease!
Are YOU insane? 'Causing pain? Check your brain!
The lame-ass excuses all remaining the same.. again.
My Brain's a machine, running at obscene speeds,
You don't know my thoughts, my words or all my deeds,
My needs are the same as yours.. we both bleed,
So read the writing on the wall, and your mind will be freed.
They say I'm LoCo.. smoke too much, it's a joke.. oh!
My Woman's been messing 'round town.. go get the gun Joe,
Slow down! Where you going? I'm just blowing off steam!
Blowing up time. In space, can't hear you scream.
NO! I'm not mad! I'm totally sane,
But it feels like sometimes, we're all on a crazy train.
First-class ticket, next stop.. the Asylum,
I need the Ghostbusters! There's no answer when I dial 'em!
So who am I gonna call? The Police will arrest ME!
For aggravated assualt.. they're not getting me easy!
Lock me up? With no fags and no drink?
I'm gonna go ballistic! You'd better go and fetch the Shrink!
You wanna hold me back? Get the Feds and the Army,
I'll take some drastic measures if you really wanna harm me!
Calm yourself down.. learn to see with both eyes,
Time flies.. surprising how fast it slips by.
If I were immortal,
What would life look like to me?
Would I be at peace with
Knowing my soul would never part from my flesh?
When I've done all there is
To do in this world,
When I have
Nothing more to give,
Would the earth be my suffocating cage
And I a bird forever trapped inside it?
How terrifying would life be, if at all?
Would I wear my immortality
Like a badge of honor? Would I feel powerful?
Would I ever tire of it
Physically, mentally,
And psychologically?
Do I eventually long to escape life
So desperately
That I bargain with God
To turn me into a mortal being?
Given the absolute certainty
That all living things
Ineluctably die;
Loss of loved ones and close friends,
Departing to the afterlife
While I'm trapped
On earth in perpetuity.
How unbearable
The unceasing loneliness?
Only God knows.
If I were immortal
And he scoffs at my ardent pleas
To become mortal,
I'd permanently become, I guess,
A local caped superhero?
If I Were Immortal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date written: 04/23/2022
Fowl woman collected feathered creatures of all kinds; they came to her
Approached her from all sides, followed her about her work, they adored her.
She was ostracized by the townspeople who did not understand.
This was nineteen twenty-seven, women were readying themselves for men.
Not feathered beasts of prey.
She did not have a name any more;
people had forgotten she could play a piano.
They did not remember that she once lived in a large comfortable home.
All they knew was that she was a caped figure
who lived differently than she should.
She lived outside their comfort zones, and that was more than enough.
The owl, ravens and turkey buzzards were her friends.
She approached other humans cautiously; with a kind of fear.
They had not been particularly kind after her parents died,
and the money was gone.
The creditors had taken the house,
she was left pretty much to fend for herself.
Her father’s lawyer said to tell him if there was anything he could do.
What could she do? She was seventeen and homeless.
She could marry Mr. McGill, he informed her.
McGill, who was in his sixties was willing, he had already inquired.
Her parents gone less than two weeks,
she had not realized she could feel any worse.
Social niceties said to thank him.
She could not get past the large wad in her throat to do it.
She walked to a park and sat down to think; she sat all night.
This is when the birds arrived.
The last thing she took from the house was the sheet on her bed.
She made it into a shroud of sorts, with a hood.
It makes her feel better for it has her mother’s hands on it.
She was there when they came to get the furniture.
She wanted to set fire and burn the house down.
She would have felt better if it had all been gone.
But it was not. It was still there with a few family inside.
While she wandered the park.
Fowl woman, befriended by feathered beasts of prey.
Bird watchers say
there are birds that return in spring to play
build a nest, raise their young
but as seasons change there are always some
who stay the winter, forage for seeds
familiar ones that cling as autumn bleeds.
The robins well know
the proper time to come and go
and as the chill begins to fall
black-capped chickadees and wrens tweet their call
with caped juncos and titmouses slipping thru the trees
riding in on a wintry chilled and icy breeze.
Others stay like the screeching blue jay
clinging to a set of traditional ways
there is a click of cardinals bright orange and cherry red
slip in and out the old decaying garden bed,
woodpeckers like the big red-bellied and downy
glide sideways up trunks to find their bounty.
As winter ice and snow begin to fade
familiar feathers return to the glade
robins, sparrows, orioles and waxwings flit in and out the yews
nesting in houses left from buntings of red and indigo blue
you can catch a glimpse of the bevies in their gathering
mocking catbirds, wrens, doves and finches blabbering.
Birds of spring return in March on varied dates
some earlier far sooner than late
born for flight, scanning the earth escapes
reaching back in time unable to hesitate,
called by an ingrained memory
back to the place of their fledgling treasury.
Surely there are more feathered flybys
but climate change and migratory spies
and sadly on occasion, some clusters face
extinction by the human race
finding fewer familiar species in the states
the greed and corruption of primates.
They're just birds some will say
but if Rachel Carlson's Silent Spring arrives
how many will we find, survive?
For Spring BIrds contest
sponsored by Constance La France
2/19/21
Hungry For Heaven
you struck a chord yet deep within
white lines that filtered through my brain
the lover in life is not the sinner
the less that you give your a taker
through the head of a small child learning to dream
coupled with the given ambiance of the moment
sincere promises made in the dark
will light the inner spark to where I'm destined to go
we seek for shelter among the wolves that howl
blind wolves desperately bleeding in the night
shadows block the sun in my search for fun
I'm hungry for heaven burning the midnight oil
take too long watching water to boil
dig much deeper then ever before
Dig much deeper then ever before
A willingness to explore the vast perpetual universe
For a cause of true brotherhood & togetherness.
One needs to capture the true essence of their youth.
Carve out time each day to meditate or pray.
Share your unique creativity to a hurting world in search of love
As a beacon of light to a much battered existence.
We need to break the amends answer the call.
Live in light of eternal implications to suffice.
We only get one chance at which to roll the dice.
The modern man does more then search through his Sunday morning newspaper
Sort of a caped crusader with the memory of Steve Jobs in tow.
To evoke creativity toward the mass populace.
Common courtesy by holding open the door for a neighbor
Searches for truth with all of his heart
This will light the inner spark to what he has been waiting for.
Search for the true riches that Christ has in store
an open door by which to humbly explore
the world, the lust of the flesh & pride of life
never relent to ever give up the fight !