Long Chameleon Poems
Long Chameleon Poems. Below are the most popular long Chameleon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chameleon poems by poem length and keyword.
Glass shattered Saturday afternoon tea for S I L E N C E
holding steady raven momentum for its own r i p p i n g
fire from heartbeat slashes its void to tumble wounds of
wisdom weeping slow dirty tears of biting burns inserting
into wordless flesh of waiting before window panes were
smashed with stone docile ornaments, rampant afternoon
unvoiced holding a blank white canvas for dripping
bookshelves tumbled, poems torn to sheds, laundry strewn
with glass splinters as lead, aphonics slithering into dried out
stewpot waiting for maniacal tsunami to cremate emotions
tweezer them from dna soiled in possessive prisons ridiculed
Divinity spoke in all pervasive silence on testing timeline taut
holding breath to His nostrils imbibing a billion frequencies
I chose to brave open His serene lips for unutterable L O V E
lashes He crafted brushed breathy implicits with assent
for missions of courage traversed embracing solitude
observed in stillness whilst across eerie forest moss
carpets I deciphered “They Don’t Care about Us”
hush self wears a daisy cloak from heavenly dew fields
luminosity unzips not as lies hop chaotic across
spiderwebs it can chameleon transmute into gentle
streams to soothe that which hides for right timing
~ first bud of white rose birthing delicacy or benign
waters over pebble backdrop quietude
biscuit baker feeds jealousy, deceit, shame, guilt, indecision
escapism ~ swampy keys of stagnant quagmires will too utter
her heart’s eclipsed light breaking egoic invisibility as
softly I breathe her shadowed taciturn s t e a l t h
quiet petaling garment breaks open blackout mission
regurgitating quantum memories incubated in beckoning cell
fertility for decades perhaps centuries, marching crusades of
soul conquering ancient lands, majestic mountains, raucous
seas, ports, yellow spices, when women with babes gagged
anguished longing for men to taste their honey in serenity
hot crusted bread speaking truths of labouring backs bent
cows chewing cherrywood cuds ~ what could be a more
knowing t r a n q u i l i t y ?
now wafered soundlessness is lamb yet diamond piercing
raw, a lark offers sotto tones as harmony cupped in two
musing wings to ascend where it can quintessentially
quiver, hover in expectant repose for another silent mission
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
THE CRYING WILD CREATURES.
Nzongi Mwero.
Oh, we recall the bygone times,
The days of the golden past,
That chirping with our merry mates,
Flying around the parks,
Gone the joys of the nests,
That freedom restrained,
Coming at our will in parks,
But hindered and chained in the parks.
Oh, we feel painted at our hearts when we recall,
The scene in the parks unsmiling,
No glistering dew drops from the trees,
All big trees were cut down,
We can’t forget that lovely shape of the parks,
That endearing our faces.
Oh, life was real nice in the vernal shade,
Oh, we miss the sweet voices of our brothers in the parks,
Would that we had the strength to break the predators,
What a bad luck have we?
Can we pine for another park?
Brothers let us think of the weapons and tactics,
That we could escape from poachers and predators.
My friend Antelope- You can use your speed in retreating,
You Tortoise- Use your shield or bomb shelter,
My friend Chameleon- You can use the camouflage,
You Porcupine- Please use your swords or bayonets,
My friend Snake- Use your poisoned knife,
You Stunk- Please Use your tear gas or poison gas,
My friend Octopus- Use your smoke screen,
You Electric Eel- Please Use your electric shock,
Then my friend Gecko- You can Use your diversionary tactics,
And finally me Elephant I will Use my tusks.
Everyone has a duty to perform his defensive way,
To deal with poachers and predators,
But still human beings have more brains,
They know how to trap us,
We plead those with good hearted to protect us.
Parks are our shelters,
Rivers are our shelters,
Oceans and lakes are our shelters,
Trees are our shelters,
The land is our shelters.
Oh, we beg you do not harm us,
You live on land- You live on land,
You drink water from the rivers –We live and drink that water,
You get medicine from trees- We live and eat those trees,
You collect foreign money from the parks- We live in the parks,
You use oceans and lakes to travel –We live in those waters.
Oh, we are all world creatures,
Why are you killing us for meat?
Why are you destroying the parks?
Why are you contaminating the waters?
Why are you cutting down trees?
Why are you burning the land we live?
Why are you hunting us for more money?
And already you are getting foreign money due to us,
Please stop hunting us or destroying our shelters.
As time flies, so her emotion swiftly fries,
As life frowns to dust, so her affection swiftly drowns to lust,
As love turns to coal, so her smile swiftly runs to the cold,
As sunset sets away, so her truth swiftly upsets the root of likeness, and erects away the boldness of trust,
but her hate doesn't rate me to roasted rat, because her hate is wingless, and no other can make her sweat and melt to hashes like I do.
Damn! I’m damned, if I get soak in her socking beauty,
Damn! I’m damned, if I get stolen by her golden smile,
Damn! I’m damned, if I don’t bench her lioness sex drive, I’ll infinitely feel less, like a quenched man.
Damn! I’m damned, if I merge with her chameleon cries and battalion kisses.
If I give in fully, just for the sake of ‘be a real man’, not 'a steel man',
my life will end up like the life of a North American bug, which inflicts painful bite on love and life.
When I transparently decide to give into love, all I get is:
Vultures smoking cigarette in an uncultured manner,
Kangaroo's doing Michael Jackson’s moonwalk in a live show in Cameroon,
Monkeys ordering for coffee, while wooing female donkeys
Zebras playing golf, with liberal views,
Lizards rearing Afro and trying to reawaken Lazarus from the dead,
Dingo's wearing costly tuxedos in Mexico, and speaking Spanish fluently,
Frogs driving Rang-Rove jeeps, in a foggy weather
Snakes wearing condoms to nibble into snacks,
Female Goats, wearing sexy underpants, to enable them float in a sinking Titanic boat
Bareheaded demons and bears drinking chilled bears together in a beheaded mood and using chilly pepper, to chill down their temper,
Horses babysitting housewives
I trip endlessly!
lost in a confused mood and temper, for she false me, she false me not.
I limp endlessly!
No matter how we try to put souls together to make our love bright and wealthy like the brightened face of Paris and the fat pocket of Las Vegas,
We always end up creating a poverty of love.
I have relentlessly tried praying forcefully for our love,
but I end up noticing that people, who aggressively pray the most for love, end up marrying angry praying-mantis.
I will just have to remain light-footed in love, and let her featherweight affections for me, turn to true feelings, or get carried away, because she false me, she false me not.
I was a planetary climatologist, who studied climate variability and change,
Like sweet variability of stunning, green tulips, in lavish garden rearranged.
Studying the said effects on the biosphere, absorbed so many daily hours,
Like industrious days of fragrant, amber honey, after tumbling into flowers.
My labors impacted energy usage, along with food production and health,
And the survival of endangered species, like golden rays of natural wealth.
Faddish flowers fascinated friends, who flattered them, at my broad fence,
Under fleecy, lemony clouds, fast moving, and orange sun, grown intense.
Famished, feasible family feasted, in lavish flowering fragrance of Fridays,
When fugitive, frosty stars flickered, winking at green garden bonsai trees.
I lived in the house of emerald echoes, in vivid memory of nature's sound,
From birdsong to crickets to evening wind, and brook of babbling renown.
Sachets swept away a sudden sadness, as robins sought another summer,
On my street of starry-eyed forget me nots, like a tune with no drummer.
Nobody knew latest neighborhood news, like my nearest friends next door,
Like chameleon sun, crisscrossing teal sky, wholly ignorant of 'nevermore.'
Pink birds were living high, and red butterflies viewed a world, ultraviolet;
And yellow bees went about their sweet labors, since queen bee desired it.
Strawberry clouds sailed around the world, for clouds ever love adventure,
As dogwoods barked in summer's dog days, during a gold noon surrender.
As I was walking home one day, the sun vanished as skies turned ominous.
There was a lightning flash just before the thunder, loud and cacophonous!
Suddenly, I saw a male face in the clouds, that was bellowing and enraged,
Like blizzard winds through naked trees, howling at a lush year that's aged.
Taken aback, like butterflies in gusts, I had come face to face with thunder-
The mighty, furious face of the storm, and I was filled with sudden wonder!
Then came the silver rains, sideways slanting, at the dead end of drought;
And I raced home like all uneasy nature, in the successive hours of doubt.
Scintillating sun had returned next day, after banishing the tangerine mist,
As benevolent nature was no more angry, its tale ending in an orange twist!
An evanescent bouquet of skewed briars,
is how a tinsel laden tawdry essence wickedly unfolds ,
scuppered signpost to a fetid human compost,
faint light pendant on soul crushed quantum migrant,
who might chortle at vivid veil flimsy vacuum,
skirt recklessly around bogus symbols,
peer behind the squalid limp sodden hedge,
mock myopic moribund mist upon boundary busting dawn chimera,
sneer at synthetic spectrum elastic in its irritating tidal wave surfeit,
cerulean fabric‘s milky way escape plot,
in a perilous quest for that eternal tape loop mantra,
the synaptic heart of that vainglorious horizon,
self-knowledge under charcoal moon and silver cloud veneer,
or feral waste rapid fire contagion,
the indecisive day glow dither on the margins ,
of fly weight feeble frantic dash,
that velvet shadow treason daubed pettifog,
known as tangential wanton cobweb fester creed,
the mind a bloated ripple vortex numbing in its scope,
golden mirage but faux fur real concoction,
against the banal backdrop of complex-ridden superficial eddy,
from floral garland poseur stricken en train,
some vox pop indignation mere shrinking violet showcase waver,
the gleam-hued truth has this dastardly demonic derailment,
that I brush aside as spiteful oxalic sting repost,
that deceptive mint green forest of chameleon cant,
sly nuanced molten maple syrup hint,
from out of kilter tree pierce otherworld,
unseen yet bliss-edged virtual garden of firm conviction,
not just from isolated enigmatic individual script,
such as torrid turbulence or mindless scattered rim shot,
when conventions can be altered in exotic prose,
human zeitgeist has this far too often penchant,
for silkworm rapt effervescent double speak,
whilst plain unvarnished uplifting utterance,
resides within the deep crystal spring well,
of us torch aloft emerald earthling sages,
please augment the rock buttress stark phrase,
whose bluntness is a carrier pigeon of candor,
devoid of muted gray cloud blind waffle,
aromatic sprig to giant spasm of bold pluck,
quandary of human race at hearth,
frightened cliques, hidebound yes men who yen,
to swim the azure gulf of august freedom,
to the Eden where lucid tongues herald pristine witness.
where values at the centre of our being should blossom
============================
I sat one evening in the park
upon a bench I thought my own
but as the dusk got down to dark,
I realized I was not alone
I hadn't seen from where he'd come
or got a strong look at his face
but he was there, green as a plumb
where had so long been empty space
He beamed a right polite 'Good day!'
but when I made to shake his hand,
he seemed from sight to fade away
like seaside foam into the sand
Then, as I stared in disbelief
down at the empty wooden seat,
his silhouette in bas-relief
appeared again, from head to feet!
I found this process very strange
but he explained as best he could,
he hadn't left, he'd only changed
his coloring to match the wood
We chatted when my wits returned,
his pattern shifting now and then.
He was a reptile, soon I learned
and called himself 'Cha-me-le-on'
As topics changed, I noticed that
his coloration changed in kind
and I could tell, throughout our chat,
exactly what was on his mind
Now, poker is my favorite sport,
I rake in fortunes with the card,
in part, because those of his sort
make taking babies candy hard
At that, I left but told my name
and address and the time of day
that I was next to hold a game,
inviting him to come and play
Game day arrived and he was there
but came in late to join the fun
and though he dived into his chair,
the show already had begun
I poured a scotch and dealt him in,
explaining how a hand was played,
then sat where I could watch his skin
and witness any change it made
Then he allowed us all to see,
a wealth bound tightly in a wad
that, awed, I vowed eventually,
would come round to myself, by God!
A patsy if there'd ever been,
I got him taught as best I could
but plotting, thought, "If this is sin,
then please, don't ask me to be good!"
In my delight, I failed to spot,
until the night progressed a pace,
my guest caught every other pot
with not one hint wrought on his face
and as he smiled, I realized
that though my friend no clue had shown,
I'd bet you twenty mint that I'd
supplied him plenty of my own!
Thus, Lizards Poker isn't fun
and you must hold your empty seats
if you meet old Cha-me-le-on...
He's just cold-blooded, plus - he CHEATS!
============================
I know you, I know your thought,
I won't be intimidated by their sunny
Red blazing eyes that hurts minds.
My ink might not be better now but
I won't give up in the quest to know more,
I will still swallow my pride and work.
The essences of living is not seen in not failing
But failing and rising make up life journey.
Life has knocked me hardin many attempts
Yet, I will triumph bravely over those critics.
Tell hardship that I can't let go of my dreams,
Tell poverty that he has lost the game of the
throne, wink at frustration and mutter to him
that he should keep off from my burning zone.
I may share the bleeding part of the nosy economy,
Tears may flow here and there like a rain drop,
Leaving me helpless and hopeless; dumbfolded,
I must never give up base on what you say to me.
Tell them in the house that we, the penlords,
Will survive the melt down of the sun on us.
Strongly, we will prowl in the darkness alone.
The sweat on our brows had been brave always,
We've seen many times when the sun changes!
We've seen the moon as a chameleon here;
Yes, we've seen many transition in life and life
Itself have seen us with a bleeding souls and legs.
We will cross the bridge of a disgraced shame,
From the faculty of insanity to home of sanity.
We can't leave words alone, we can't leave Nigeria
On fire and run to a sagging strange land, no!
Look at our eyes and find out that there is
A tinny boundary that connect home and abroad,
Love knows no bounds but suffering has bound
That cluster in many ways in the polluted air.
Look at the forest of men astraying,
Panting in an endless depressions that bark.
I refuse to be among the rejected in the street,
I refuse to be frustrated before the new rain,
If their head is censored in the field, many will fall.
I refuse to be stranded in the hands of the so critics,
None those Animaticians on the their white chairs.
Today has seen our stripped heartbeat broken,
Tomorrow shall we overthrow fear in a combat.
This is from my hand; hand of a pen refusing
Frustration from the clouded prison wall of poverty.
I can't be devastated, we can't be demoralised in
Our own land where enough milk are gathered.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast
Eyes glowing through orbs of green
She dances covertly in the dark of night
Where not another soul is seen
Warbling a haunting, enchanted tune
Chanting, dancing around the fire
Under light of a full October moon
Questions lie on lips to desire
Is she malevolent or benevolent?
Never a soul has been so bold
To tell their story... too hesitant!
She possesses many powers, many tales
Lifting her hands as she chants
Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil
Eyes brightening in orbs of green
Chilly mist crawling over her skin
Under an oak tree dancing unseen
Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl
Strange sounds and names uttered
As she boldly dances, chanting out her call
Wild, fierce, bold and free
Like a chameleon she changes
In red blazing firelight so unseen
Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar
Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head
Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor
Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze
Many forces about, electrifying ground and air
Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees
Many denizens of this land astound
Warlocks and witches cast their magic here
As their caldron bubbles over ground
They come together from lake and fen
Here they meet from darkened lair
Ferny dells and rocky dens
“Make room”, they call in pitch black night
Bringing many potions to mix them well
Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright!
Casting out and about their magic spell
Mixing tooth and tongue and nail
Under fire, water, earth and dung
They mix the caldron, hold the flail
Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood
Chanting out, “By thee we bound upon this road"!
Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed
Using blood, eyes and tongue of a toad
As quickly as they came, they hastily leave
Departing thru forest dark, entering private glades
Leaving once again, only to return
On another chilly October full moon eve
"Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to flee
Then they'll secretly meet once again...
Where they’ll chant and mix another magic urn
#_#