Long Chaperon Poems
Long Chaperon Poems. Below are the most popular long Chaperon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chaperon poems by poem length and keyword.
The pain that I feel is caused by the ignorance I see on television and facebook, youtube and twitter, and most importantly the minds and mouths of the multitudes of people that lack the acquirable knowledge that would educate them before speaking.
Our world has misplaced the efficacy of human touch, the importance of human communalism; we have overlooked the significance of human life, and no longer contain the fortitude to express the basic collective dignities all people warrant.
The paths that we take toward progression diverge from the ethical constitutions that were meant to chaperon the actions of man; paths that lead to supremacy rather than a place of equality, where one person’s revolution justifies the undermining of another’s natural liberties, and a place where the flamboyant cries of a few disillusioned are satisfied over the cravings of the crowds that are too preoccupied to bellow.
The sexual nature of our children has surpassed the carnal ways of our parents, and society begs for the young victims to expand their complexities of sensuality. The female body is not a gift, but a means of entertainment; the man is not a sturdy foundation for the family, but instead a source of erotic pleasures. Today it is exceptional to find a person that is faithful, and tomorrow we are all sufferers of divorce.
My God the path we have taken leads to destruction, and we advance ever so closer to the end. The people of our world our depressed and lonely and I fear for the world my children will grow up in. I question whether giving them life was the best thing I could have done for my children.
Amidst the chaos of Earth, I see a photo of an officer assisting a sightless man cross the street, I hear reports of a blessed man returning his earnings to those who need it more, I see a video of a Christian alongside an Atheist as they rebuild the house of a Muslim fire victim, and I see hope.
Hope, that we can one day be rid of the current ways we have chosen to live by; hope that our grandchildren will be blind of color, gender, sensualities, and judge no one. This hope is the hope that will bring us to our knees, and upon those knees shall we find man’s peace.
Form:
glass-like smooth of even's yawn
just I, myself, with one cob swan
trace cursive paths upon the lake
for we’re both OF the earth, not on
so sets the sun to blow a kiss -
in hushed glissades of feral bliss
cleaving surface - gentle wakes
o surely heaven’s much like this
swan and I, we share these eves
in feathered white tuxedo sleeves
he follows while I row the skiff -
my chaperon as daylight leaves
I think perhaps he's lonely, too
a-searching for a soul-mate who
shares his love of blushing skies
and parting mirrored lakes anew
the water's darkened interludes
reflect both images and moods
hopes we held of love this morn
are put to bed as day concludes
ere we meet when dusk is drawn
I’ll say a prayer that he'll be gone
that one of us shall find true love ...
for we’re both OF the earth, not on.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 9" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ the "Beauty Of Solitude" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Your Choice (7), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
The wheels of time roll by on the lavish landscape of life,
many springs swarm in our ambiance and wane away,
as we chaperon our entwined hearts on the garden path.
Ardent fervor lined with silver on the satin cloud that set sail,
not for long, for the ruinous rainstorm surges in
and dissolves the dormant shine of the remote sky.
My yearning glides beyond the sway of the eroded banks
of the subterranean stream flowing from your eyes,
but I know it’ll return from the sanguine sea of certainty.
I won’t wait long to be with you in the vale by my garden,
for in the recess of your meandering arms outspread for me,
I wander on the wings reverie to repose once again.
You sow the seeds of buoyancy in the abandoned garden,
that sprout in the spectral spring with amorous splendor.
The cradle of malachite leaves caresses the buds of rose,
that bloom on the canvas of dawn painted by sunburst sky.
In a trance I see you’re adorned by filigree of flushing patina,
the flower of yearning embellished with the glow of ardor.
I then find me drift in the domain of the deepest fantasy,
sparkle in the sapphire sky like a shooting star,
falling on the purple petals of your pristine rose,
I turn into a drop of dew radiating my heart’s fervent hue.
She's probably still tied to her mum's apron,
But she definitely needed no chaperon,
So to Dubai she went for a competition,
With many of her mates from the same institution.
She suddenly became a sensation,
When behind a hotel door of a foreign nation,
She romped,
Not with one but with many they bumped.
The story was whitewashed as a hype,
All over the internet was the tape,
Not of a ravished fellow,
But of shame with a joyful bellow.
She rode like a horse while others were there to cheer,
She stroked up and down as if on an armchair,
Bad parentage casually strolled each inch of the room,
Moral decadence boomed in the gloom refusing to sweep with a broom.
Then after, the mother came on air soaked in tears to blame all except self,
She dressed like for a funeral flanked by her own set,
Her pictures looked solemn but her wears had the hearts of a yippee,
She was just the carricature of the way her girl clothed herself as a groupie.
Whilst the mother blamed the school,
The school in turn called the mother the fool,
Meanwhile, the society badmouthed them both,
But if at all there is a blame it is to everyone in this boat.
First Sunday After Elections
By Franklin Price
11/13/2016
First Sunday after elections
A chill is in the air
Both weather wise and otherwise
I think that statement would be fair
The man who was elected
To be the leader of this land
Has much to learn of politics
Much he doesn't understand
God help him in his journey
For this country needs you so
To guide his thoughts and plans for us
Show him the way to go
And God while you are at it
Help the Senate and the House
Cooperate more fully
As a husband with a spouse
Lord knows there will be arguments
Negotiations must be done
Help the Senate and the House
And the elected one
Help the ones who did not vote for him
Give this elected man a chance
While being a close chaperon
Of the dancers at the dance
Help the people stand behind him
After all we put him there
To fix the problems that we have
We put him in the highest chair
God we voted to elect him
Please help him be the one
To have this country great again
When his elected term is done
glass-like smooth of even's yawn
just I, myself, with one cob swan
trace cursive paths upon the lake
for we’re both OF the earth, not on
so sets the sun to blow a kiss -
in hushed glissades of feral bliss
cleaving surface - gentle wakes
o surely heaven’s much like this
swan and I, we share these eves
in feathered white tuxedo sleeves
he follows while I row the skiff -
my chaperon as daylight leaves
I think perhaps he's lonely, too
a-searching for a soul-mate who
shares his love of blushing skies
and parting mirrored lakes anew
the water's darkened interludes
reflect both images and moods
hopes we held of love this morn
are put to bed as day concludes
ere we meet when dusk is drawn
I’ll say a prayer that he'll be gone
that one of us shall find true love ...
for we’re both OF the earth, not on.
Living Canvases
by Odin Roark
It hangs with the galleries
Where unlimited art museums
Await your approach
Your stopping
Your willingness
So often
It patiently bides its time
Knowing frequently
You’re concerned more
With who’s watching you
Watching the painting
Watching your illumination
Move its way
A painting’s nourishment
Comes in many forms
A child’s giggle
A lean into the details
The finding of the viewing bench
The sit
The sigh
The appreciation of magic
Your eyes provide the means
Your imagination the transport
Your subtle nod
The reward
A painting knows well
The containment of joy
Always aware
Always with gratitude
The chaperon of light
Senses how grateful
Your envisioning a brush stroke’s feel
A layered color’s purpose
An artist’s commitment to discovery
How delicate and fine such moments
When paintings and illumination
Make love
I took my girl to the ice cream parlor,
to buy her and ice cream cone.
when we got there, her mother was there,
she had to be chaperon.
How can we be with each other?
when she always with her mother.
We cant even hold hands at the picture show,
her mother got to be there where ever we go.
Now that we are getting older,we thought it would get better.
Wrong it got worst.
Now when ever I want to kiss my girl,
I have to kiss her mother first.
Now that we are dating,
I asked my girl to take her to the prom.
Wouldnt you just know it,
she was chaperon by her mom
Soon we will be getting married,
and have a family of our own.
Her mother said if we have a daughter,
remember she will have be chaperon.
We love her mother dearly,
but one thing we dred.
When we are making love,
she will be watching from under our bed.
With wings spread wide
I soar while shooting the breeze.
I am the king of a widespread sky.
The dominant winged creation.
I circle down.
The humans they run and hide.
Not understanding I am a chaperon to so
Many living things. Gosh, heavens knows,
Maybe I’m even looking for food.
The wind lifts me high and into the clouds.
The sun beams off my iridescent feathers.
They are comfortably out-stretched, at perfect angles
and catching air pockets. Shooting me through
the emptiness with ease. Everyone should be so jealous
at just how peaceful and relaxing, this is.
To soar so close to god.
To drag-fly with an aeroplane.
And at the end of the day
To duck dive at fish. Get dinner for the kids.
I have flown for miles today.
I have swooped, circled, glided, turned and dived.
My wings are tired, so now I shall rest.
You illuminate our hearts as you brightly smile
A splendid feeling for us lovers in the night
We’re completely snuggled under your light.
Sitting beside each other at the park with your light
We look at one another lovingly with sincerest smile
Then, our tender kisses filled the cold air of the night.
It turns out to be a very lovely and romantic night
Our most passionate love under your gleaming light
Our love is ablaze in the chaperon of your smile.
Your smile in the night is our best amorous light.
Feb. 25, 2013
Form of Poem: Tritina
©2014by Leonora Galinta
9th Place
Contest: Introducing Tritina ( a new poetry form for you)
Judged: 3/9/13
Poet Sponsor: Poet Andrea Dietrich
2nd Place
Contest: Moon and Sea
Judged: 3/13/13
Poet Sponsor: Poet Linda/PD