Long Clamored Poems
Long Clamored Poems. Below are the most popular long Clamored by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clamored poems by poem length and keyword.
Inspired by: (Aunt Olga Martha Valentine)
Alone, you stood as golden dream, silent
Some always fluttered about, others flinched
But I still believe you were heaven sent
From age to age with brilliance, you did teach.
I clamored, savoring each wondrous view
Good folks unite! There'll be songs, not a fight
You've showered me with warm vibes good as news
From valley to schoolhouse, then church, we both climbed high.
Yes, will, wit, and wisdom does reign
Two wings, metamorphosis, days of bliss
You and I will never be the same
Our Maker has ordained the course of this...
Yet in His name, we're diamond in sunlight
His touch to everyone grants new insight.
*
Cobblestone Echoes
by Odin Roark
Ancient stone
keeper of darkness
of auras reaped from high seas
vast is your harvest
from earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard
glass reflecting where primates once clamored upon
From paws a running
sniffed calloused drippings in peril
where sandal swathed footsteps
dodged blade and spear
as wash water dumped from high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful
ever hungry
ever historic
Now the high noon of modern life
the wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications emulating your path
you the wrinkled skin spirit of ancient masons
who served sun-baked feasts
from the past of pasts
Alas…
Genuine micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send the spirits aloft from once grasses high
reminding us that while calendars may crumble
time’s enduring stone of old remains original
transcending the language of vowel and consonant
acknowledging the reach of sentient eye to eye
the whispered caress beneath a Nike sole
sharing the tongues of old
echoing the murmurs of weary travelers
the severed limbs of warriors
the rivers of plasma-red passion
polishing fossils within
within
within
Yet many choose faking Nature’s setting
even making ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference
massaging serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon this facsimile
sold as make-believe
glittering’s bondage
hidden in fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of blood and sweat
from whence it all came
For like Rodeo Drive’s cobblestone plazas
where modern celebrity prisons of today
masquerade as credible reality for borrowed tomorrows
knockoff décor identity everlasting
unaware their own history
reaches inevitable fade out
may never know the hidden messages
Perhaps…
The subtle cacophony of shadow and whisper
cobblestone’s enigmatic infernal
made orchestral for those who can hear
those who dare see through the darkness
those who can be moved and touched by
shadowed silence protected with truth
will experience the magic
How few seem to hear the deafening message
One Scary Night
A joke, a dare
Come on, dont be scared
I am not, I stammered
Alone, up old brown stairs I clamored.
Inside, I could swear I heard them laugh,
Where were the lights, around me spirits dance,
The stairs to the top floor, they are creaking
I look to the left, why do I feel like fleeing
In an instant I see the spirit of the old man
and in my mind, is that a knife what is in his hand?
I start to run down long eerie passages,
Here he comes, the headless knight and his headless horse carriage.
The ghosts are now calling, in the kitchen of all places.
I cannot resist, I must see the look on their faces.
On to the stony floor I slide, watching them cooking.
I hide in the pantry, so scared, are they looking!
I hear the breath of someone inside,
or is that breath I hear, mine?
I feel the brush on my neck
I faint as i look, as I see what's behind.
I wake up on the dirty basement floor
I dont want to be here anymore
The chains are tight around my wrists
In the distance, I see a coffin that is lit
Is that mine, oh I feel alone.
I scream, mommy please take me home
I pass out once more, hearing the dead walk the floor
Its me next, i am sure.
I wake to see a familiar face,
My mother is wiping a cloth on my brow
I thought I told you, never go to that place
So I smile, happy to be in my abode
and promising to leave forever, the haunted house alone.
She was Auntie Mame, Cher, Bette, and Liza with a Z to those amongst us.
Children clamored for her attention, twirling and whirling in her presence.
She was happy, joy, enthusiasm, personified, if you got to know her, you were delighted.
She was the most upbeat, positive person I had ever met, and I had no idea how damned depressed she was.
No one knew that she felt hated by her own mother, who resented everything she said, did or wore.
No one knew how sad she felt every second of her childhood, convinced she was too fat to love.
No one knew how much rage she was holding bottled inside, hidden away deep in the recesses of her heart,
Enraged that other children’s mothers hugged and kissed them, and said, “I love you.”
At school she was the epitome of happiness. Everyone knew when Mrs. T. came into a room, the party began.
I loved her in kindergarten, and kept loving her throughout my entire childhood and adult life.
She was music, she was marching, she was sunshine, she was joy, she was always volunteer of the year,
And she did not believe in volunteering.
which I always thought was curious.
She was the grand marshall of the parades, the head of every committee that helped children.
One time when she wanted a particular teaching job, she called every member of the school board, and told them to give it to her,
And they did,
Because they all loved her
Because she had been their favorite teacher,
Because she was puppy spice, and cinnamon kitten, and bunny love.
So they gave it to her,
But she did not take it
Because she could not believe in herself,
Because no one had ever believed in her,
Until they did,
But by then,
She did not see it.
She was a child herself, having never having a real childhood.
And no one knew.
For such a time as this:
…when enhanced community quarantine
causes angst, grievously torturing…
...when lockdown brings ennui
of senseless boredom that seems to be forever…
…when pandemic’s cure
being clamored for is still uncertain…
…when disease-virulence continues to attack
inflicting even the very frontliners striving to subdue such…
…when global crisis afflicts sorely
intensifying financial need of grumbling stomachs…
…when enforced government measures
all the more manifest limitations of human resources…
We need GOD Who is sovereign in His control of every situation!
His grace, mercy, compassion, wisdom, and wisdom
are working together for His good purpose
verily beneficial according to His plan
since the foundation of the universe
until the end of the world
throughout eternity.
Indeed, we can trust His omniscience that perfectly knows everything;
thus, let's keep on yielding to His might, beseeching His healing*
thanking Him midst worshipful praise delight for faith-fortitude
seeking for His forgiveness, protection and salvation
doing our utmost part responsibly by His Word
praying against lurking skepticism-mockery
claiming His assured blessed peace
while sharing His wondrous love
with others blissfully.
*2Chronicles 7:14 If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.
May 6, 2020
3rd place, "In Times Like These" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 5/10/2020.
Connor Constrictor
crept through the carpet.
Marianne Marmot
marched through the market
singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Tutu Toucan
turned to and fro
while Wally Walrus
watched in slow mo.
Singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Kami Chameleon
chewed a crumpet
and Tommy Tortoise
tuned up his trumpet
playing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
All the animals
clamored for more,
more of the funny
musical score
singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
The Braille of Cobblestone
Keeper of darkness,
of auras reaped from high seas,
vast is your harvest
of earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard glass.
Such reflects primate-memory
once clamored upon by man and beast running,
dodging blade and spear
as wash water dumped from windows high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful,
ever hungry,
ever historic.
At the high noon of one’s life,
we wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications lining your path.
you the wrinkled skin of ancient masons
serve sunbaked feasts
from the past of pasts.
Your micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send spirits aloft from grasses high,
reminding us that while calendars may crumble,
your stone of old remains young,
transcending the language of vowel and consonant,
acknowledging the touch of phantom eye to eye,
even whispered touches beneath a Nike sole
speaking the tongues of old,
echoing the murmurs of felled travelers,
the severed limbs of warriors,
the rivers of passion red,
polishing fossils within.
Still…
Others would fake Nature's setting,
even make ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference.
Such serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon your offspring
sold into bondage, interspersed among the fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of oar-navigated ports.
For like Rodeo Drive's cobblestone plazas,
where modern slavery prisons of today
masquerade as knockoffs once authentic for tomorrow,
your history is reaching fade out,
sans your hidden messages,
your quiet cacophony of silence
made orchestral for those who can hear,
those who dare see through the darkness,
those who can be moved and touched by
the brail of cobblestone.
The path was long and arduous
And night began to veer
O’er trees, and lanes and rusted gates
Its' shadows breeding fear
Unbridled Wind wisped ‘round
Tombstone crosses where
Hissing its’ frustration
Loudly in despair
It sought to nourish fears
The shadows did create
Searching everywhere to find
It’s soul-less night-time mate.
Moonbeam light kissed the Night
Claiming shadows as their child
Together then in lock-step
They bent on running wild
And there, where he awaited
Their cold inspiring touch
With doctrines of all Evils
Firmly in his clutch
The blackness in his heart,
Thumping ‘neath his frock
Soon it’s rancid maladies
The Wind would there unlock
Thoughts of what’s to come
Then twisted lips to smile
Revealing stained and yellowed teeth
Trapping breath so rank and vile
‘twas then The Prince of Avarice
Rose and stood erect
The world would soon be his
To ravage and infect
His eyes of snake, both bespake
Behind their reptile lids
The embrace of the doctrine
For no Evils it forbids
The Wind increased its’ howling
Icy fingers pushing fro
Arranging fallen hopes
Into a dead rouleau
And you and I so un-suspect
Of pending alchemy
Believing we were safe inside
Cocoons of normalcy.
Our naiveté so firmly grasped
Caused us to belie
The chaos we knew not …
‘twas there, and drawing nigh
As Wind fingers touched him
He yelled out his decree:
“ The Prince of Avarice shall reign
And destroy Democracy!”
His school of ghouls, dunce and fools
Clamored to his side
Greed having won the day
Was about to take It’s ride!
Greed, first blessed the banks
And Wall Street did rejoice
The Prince of Avarice then silenced
All protestor ‘s voice
With lies and propaganda
All fabricated well
Then all the bankers rang
The borrowers death knell
Morgan Stanley, AGI,
Then ‘twas Goldman-Sachs
Raking in what Greed gave out:
Billions in green-backs.
Glutted bankers,
Through laughter Greed had honed
Uncaringly showed the world
A prediction - their prodrome
Of broken dreams, foreclosure schemes
Insuring that which failed
But jobs the cost, as homes were lost
And not a banker jailed.
I've deleted this acrostic from the competition for personal reasons.
SORRY, J. D.
G lorious was the morning I climbed the Scottish highland
R adiant warmth of Summer's sun shimmered over the trail
E mblazoned with clover, near a forested Wych Elm stand
A stonished at the scenic vista, my lofty imagination set sail
T raipsing across the North Sea, I was Captain in command
E lusive was the tailwind on my adventurous nautical escape
S cotland clamored for my return, 'Make haste. Hurry home!
C ast your notions upon the wind. Your spinnaker, undrape
A nother day will you play, when in illusory flight you roam
P erchance invite another dreamer and don your Tartan cape
E mbark upon a getaway beyond the heathered hills of loam'
who felt incorporeal storied power
of Herman Melville as zen unseen aid
instructing hypothetic rich kid to drop out of school
before his/her first grade
coz of all the money he/she made
which affected modus operandi rendered obsolete
child worker laws
and no sweat of brow getting paid
people used bitcoin (or other online currency)
additionally making purchases
with scant keystrokes to complete a trade.
As with any major dramatically novel scheme
light bulb idea scribbled on napkin
scrap of paper
via cheesy or whipped cream
originating as a flash in the pan
aha eureka moment, or dream
as rough blue print subsequently
underwent beta testing,
before declaring pc innovation supreme
whereby outstanding persons in the tech industry
clamored to join Kidde team.
Whether seventh day add vent
hissed or other religious creed
powerful binary processing
impacted near
earth shaking incarnation indeed
and ramifications in all walks
and talks of life sought expert need.
Coven chanting children murmured Luddites be damned!
Thus spake Zarathustra (cue the opening scene
from Planet of the Apes)
upon witnessing as if king or queen
(in reality father or mother)
didst get immediately
dethroned thus, increasing mean
average positive
effects on society, especially lean
microchip i.e. integrated circuitry
miniaturization "green"
technology (and eventual
attendant affordable price)
viz said trappings
unleashed upon global market
invited absolute zero dust, a must clean
as a whistle work space,
and manufacturers laboratory be microbe free
hermetically sealed vacuumed "clean".
Countless portable machines
unbeknownst soon epithet florid hack
coining impromptu called cyber crime
especially as majority proportion of population
didst purchase these dime,
a doze in countless "end users"
snapped up these smart machines
excitedly keyed away indifferent to gunk
on unwashed hands
plus bits of food particles
eventually caking hardware with grime
(eventually necessitating technician
charging gobs of moolah
sans to unstitch in time.