Long Chronicled Poems
Long Chronicled Poems. Below are the most popular long Chronicled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chronicled poems by poem length and keyword.
In Cities in Flight
transformations are chronicled over generations.
It can make us cry
out for the genius occurring
now and in our past. How
the unseen, unknown participant
was made known to himself
through devotion to those outside himself. He
guides his city
into space.
So, the father and the teacher
guide the family and the student
through the close spaces of knowledge
and obligation. And perform
the history that surrounds them.
Good actors and directors,
philosophers and physicists,
soldiers and foresters.
Today
steam rose from the asphalt
because the sun
has arrived in place, powerful, equinoxal
as the human song
that receives it.
Two big deer
Lope cautiously
Off the open road.
Two crows
Fly low
Above the Oswegatchie.
Frank Bassett
forester since '57
marks a stand of maple and black cherry
for selective cutting. His actions today
will be noted
by another forester, also acting alone,
in the 21st century.
New York City
in a froth of creativity
Pacino and Sheen in Julius Caesar,
Sonny Rollins at Town Hall,
films opening, one
that portrays the flamboyant style
and dedication
of a barrio public school teacher.
You cannot act alone.
You must belong
in your heart
to the flight humanity makes in Spring, north
toward wild flowers
in geese chevrons.
In older writes today I take a peek
I read what brings me joy and what brings pain
A message left: a gift that I still seek
I see a face, and tears fall fast like rain
The writes and rhymes have chronicled my life
Like dearest friends the words bring solace deep
What grieves my heart is some remembered strife
I read again. I smile, I sigh, I weep.
Some of the poets now have passed away
And others now are silent, no reply
I wonder once again what might I say
to make those days return. I have to try
I cherish every sign in every rhyme
Of where I was, and where I've come to be
The journey that I take, is quite sublime
I'll write until I taste eternity.
Eileen Manassian
When men tell a story
They only state the facts
But women add color commentary
For its more than just white and black
We mention those hidden figures
Our fellow sisters in Christ
We call them by their given names
Their personas we bring to life
Yet when one reads the stories
In the Holy Scriptures
You may notice those that are written by women
Give the full gospel picture
They wrote about the confidence
That those women had to possess
They wrote about the challenges
That those women had to address
They described the dangers
That those women had to fear
They chronicled the courage
Those women embraced even thru their tears
Those women pressed forward towards
Their purpose never breaking stride
They refused to sit in the windows of life's despair
With the Holy Spirit they were ready to ride
They prayed and cried through
The pain of their circumstances
For prayer is the key that opens doors
To opportunity and second chances
And our tears are the unspoken language
That only God can understand
For when we cry God does realize
That we need His mighty hands
Tears can lead to triumph
And wash in a new victory
So be courageous, confident
And bold with full capability
Hidden figures our sister in Christ
Women who were called
To follow their destinies
with courage through the tears
That from their eyes did fall
Anything but bread
I bumped into a man named Fred
And listened to each word he said
A story I was soon to dread
For all he talked about was bread
In detail he spoke every slice
Some made of wheat and some of rice
There’s cinnamon and sugar spice
And sourdough he mentioned twice
Banana nut he found so sweet
The perfect early morning treat
With coffee as you take a seat
To bake it though, a major feat
He chronicled each rim of crust
A lighter tan or darker rust
Or sprinkled with a pepper dust
I guess somehow he thought he must
When then he changed and featured toast
I think it’s what he liked the most
I can’t believe how he could boast
He’d tell his tale from coast to coast
I told him I was running late
I had a very special date
A meeting and it couldn’t wait
I headed out beyond the gate
I started walking down the trail
He didn’t stop, I heard him wail
“Be careful of the loaves on sale,
you’ll usually find that they are stale”
Into a café I then fled
And thought about that man named Fred
When asked to order, this I pled
“Just bring me anything but bread”
Inspired by Maureen McGreavy’s Baker’s Dozen poetry contest
That’ll teach me to read the rules first. : )
half seen in the shadows
a film of images
monlit velvet. blue deep
a pale stone in the dark
a glitter of water:
the days end
voices far afield
light of sunrise
the stillness
a rainbow awakens
more pleasure
down to sunset:
after the brocade of night
& the ornate
shield
a sable ribbon in a chronicled
painting of Spring
in fiesta
yelow turquoise vermillion
rising
crossing
then gathered
clinging staggered
a continuing thread
together again
in marked sculpture
fragments moderated
around
an arbour of stone
beauty just beginning
a process
taking form
a mongraph dwelling
as it were
in the air
moving towards certainty
an obscure need
flowering
as a neccessity elsewhere
out of the night langour
out of the darkness no form
nothingness no movement:
time drifts
between pleasure & peace
splendour&habit
dwelling in a natural manner
always
precious
memory
full of detail a catalogue
a kindled
measure of sensitive
conversations
a compromise of the constant
a disposal of reason
a deposit of the repetitive
a voyage to the distant past
still
liquid customs written&
understood
matter still
in place
through it all
the priviledged remain here
spinning
empty pledges
in a procession
offering their measured
magnificence
to implement particulars:
meeting together
without real participation
It matters not you have the blood of heroes.
It matters not your family's claim to fame.
It matters not your riches and possessions.
What matters now is how you bear the name;
For though you have the blood of kings and heroes,
And their exploits have been chronicled through time,
It matters not who may have gone before you,
What matters is the man who's next in line.
Your ancestors were brave and stalwart people.
Your father was a hero tried and true.
Your grandparents were good and honest people,
And now they've passed the torch along to you.
How they lived their lives is done and over.
Their deeds are theirs and theirs alone.
How you live your life is now what matters.
What matters now is what seeds you have sown.
Will others now be glad that they have known you?
Will family be proud you are their own?
It matters not what be your heritage.
It's the name that you have earned all on your own.
*Image Raptured in Heaven by Pint.
Raptured in Heaven
The unearth enraptured in Heaven's flock,
Those who have mourned, the meek, and merciful,
Answers to who holds the key to unlock,
Plus, hungry and thirsty righteous dreamful.
Newness befalls refreshed innocent breathes,
The unearth enraptured in Heaven's flock,
True turtledoves hail friendly laurel wreathes,
Harmonious life will be a cakewalk.
It is Grace who's at your door, comes a knock,
Your soul chronicled in the Book of Life,
The unearth enraptured in Heaven's flock,
Preparations made for your afterlife.
Prayers gifts comfort, freed from the abyss,
Your salvation resources round-the-clock,
He kept His promise--everlasting bliss,
The unearth enraptured in Heaven's flock.
2023 February 02
*10th Place*
YOUR OPTION
~Brian Strand: Judged 2023 February 06
Gilgamesh O’Malley left his home in Fermanagh
With dreams of steaming plates of Irish stew.
He ate his last potato last time Sheamus paid the rent.
Since then, there’s not been very much to chew.
The lords of the Ascendancy express paternal care
By flaunting all their privileges of wealth,
While tenant souls like Gilgamesh subsist on gospel words
Unsuited for the maintenance of health.
The famine’s grip was guaranteed by what was done to help;
The landlords’ ledgers chronicled events.
The mighty Earl of Lucan and the rest lived absentee,
Their middlemen kept busy squeezing rents.
So, Gilgamesh O’Malley left his home in Fermanagh,
And climbed aboard a packet ship in Cobh.
He authored his own epic as an immigrant at large,
To brave the flood and find a decent job.
Gilgamesh O'Malley left his home for foreign shores.
Should the Fates condemn your destiny, his fortune could be yours.
Born and raised in Brooklyn,
with a poetic heart to write.
Anticipated in making friends,
all poetic forms bring him delight.
With a love for ice skating,
at the Franconia Notch Lakes.
Inspiration is set to verse,
from the photographs he takes.
He winds down with opera music,
Carmen and Turandot are his fav’s.
With a natural love for writing,
his poetic words get great raves.
Enveloped by English gardens,
and spending time in museums.
A yearning for reading poetry,
led to spending time in athenaeums.
His stomach has it‘s craves,
and asks for Italian delicacies.
Being with family and friends,
are his utmost priorities.
Ann Sexton & Ogden Nash,
are his timeless inspirations.
Annie Lennox, a favorite musical,
concludes this dedication.
With sincere gratitude,
and poet-to-poet respect.
I chronicled the honest likings,
of poet, Mr. John Heck.
________________________
Dedicated to a fellow Souper,
John Heck for his support.
As I am a humble I'll be there
Like in a fluttery butterfly in the air
I'm a whisper a still small voice
Giving you totally Freedom's choice
Captive your imagination shall be
Glorious Horizons you shall seek
In all alone Nevermore
I am your shelter and it's you I adore
Glory of glories rapture's we sing
Hallelujah weather righteous King
And all manner of best magistry
Chronicled throughout all Majestic history
My God my God you are my Lord and King
Hallelujah- holy holy God we sing
And in my pains and pangs even in the reins
You cover me righteously abundantly you bring
Ever Glad Tidings Hallelujah my Lord and King
And for this I'm gratified
After this I'm satisfied
And for this I shall not hide
Ever and always my God you are by my side
And for this I'm satisfied
Hallelujah my Lord my God
10/23/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2019