Long Clime Poems
Long Clime Poems. Below are the most popular long Clime by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clime poems by poem length and keyword.
There are visions roving inside my head
of a time and place where perhaps I once lived.
But how do I know of those worldly things
if I no longer exist? I must question if I ever did.
I am off kilter, as if I'm an invisible entity,
a salty speck of foam floating on a sapphire sea.
Should I feel dire despair, indifference, or jubilant joy
that I am not part of this place that's been laid to waste?
It's as if I'm surfing in shadows over what used to be
an amusement park, but the Ferris Wheel is broken,
and there's no spark of life anywhere to be found.
Only faded pamphlets lying on the ground, sun-bleached
remnants of the way life used to be, once upon a time.
I pity me for having been given this gloomy glimpse,
a vandalized view that no one could misconstrue.
I feel like Alice wandering through a frightening fantasy.
Desperately wanting to go back through the looking glass
and forget the devastation in which the world dwells.
If I ever had an inkling of what living in hell would be,
then in this chaotic clime, this dysfunctional dystopia,
I would seek to escape my existence and set myself free.
I feel the need for fresh air, but who would care
if I should have lived or died? No one cried tears for me.
What future fate have I discovered with thoughts
hovering? Tragic thoughts that haunt me like a cold stare.
What ill winds have swept the world away?
Cursed be!
How can anything exist is this sorrowful sepulcher?
I'd rather be a soulless specter without a home
then live among those in this lamenting land.
This is not Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.
It does no good to imagine a world without me.
Friendships made; children born; none of those would exist.
I can only envision these things. These things that I've given wing.
They roam inside my head, making me wonder if I had a beginning
or an end. I feel repercussions from having a discussion
with myself over the conceptual conundrum of my existence.
Would I have been happy, would I have made others happy,
or brought them grief like the thief who collects the dead?
It's a nightmare of reality, for I am sure it's not a daydream.
Greed played its Trump card and schemed to sit on the throne
in a kingdom I could never contentedly condone.
I've no desire to dally here a moment longer, and
since I don't exist, I am certain I will not be missed.
A girl was walking through the night
Afraid and all alone
She sunk for moments of respite
Upon a blackened stone.
What flakes were these that sparkled bright
And flurried in the breeze?
What specks of gold did grace the night
And rest upon the trees?
Up from her perch she stumbled on
Into the silent black
But 'twas in vain, the specks were gone
So then she foundered back.
She found the stone on which she set
All laid with dust around
The stars of heav'n the earth had met
And blanketed the ground.
The stardust, now a handbreadth thick
Had melted from the sky
She saw a once sedate old crick
With flames now floated by.
She gathered stardust in her hand
And held it by her face
It hovered there, in ways unspanned
Held up by empty space.
Her face did glint with motes of gold
Her wavy hair did gleam
The stroke of twelve the townclock tolled,
Around her shone a beam:
She looked to see its molten source,
The sun had joined them too;
In place of burnished bronze its force
Was emanating blue.
With both her hands she caught the sun
And held him firmly there
She shook him gently just for fun
And threw him in the air;
"Oh, Sun, how come you left the sky
To be a little ball?
Wherefore from glory did you fly
And now art pale and small?"
Then said the sun, " The stars had left
They had a merry time
And all alone I felt bereft
So moved to sweeter clime;
Said he, "It was so cold and still
Without my fellow stars,
All scattered 'round upon this hill
As far away as Mars;
So here I came to be a ball
Of bright electric blue
My starry kin with wit appall
And have a chat with you."
"Oh, Sun, you do not understand!
The day is black as night
Now who will fill this darkened land
With rays of warmth and light?
"And what of you?" she asked the dust
That sparkled at her feet.
"Back to the sky I think you must
Your twinkling forms repeat."
"Now truth we see," quoth ev'ry star
In one according rhyme,
"Back to the sky we'll roam afar
Until the end of time."
Then said the sun, "Oh, now I see,
I thought that I was trite
So back the way I was I'll be
To shed abroad my light."
Then off they rushed in waves of flame
Their rightful place to gain;
No man can e'er the heavens tame,
That surely isn't plain.
Whene'ere alone in dark of night
That girl recalls her friends:
And now I think the time is right
So here my story ends.
~Written December 25th 2012
(for: them who are ever there!)
these branches and roots
that cord to the grave ancients
should be free from man’s swords!
both oracle and priest held for days …
I
Your voice speaks in the silence of the night
To the deep still shady earth
That once held a great zest for our childhood
Here in the once thick wooded land
Where progenitors strewed their rustic huts
Yes! where, sang tho’ unseen those sonorous kin-spirits.
2
Ah! Happy and keen folks were the ancients, then;
But their sons? what a sad lot, now! even
Demented hearts aching from those drinks of dizzy times
Raw anguish, sorrow, painful hemlocks of death-lines,
The slow songs that tune softly to the mirthful graves
That still hold the ancestors like prisoners in the wild caves.
3
O! for your unravished wave of primal welcome,
That bade the sonorous weaver come
To make loud greeting of blue azure with song-fleet
O! for such uudecoded song that for the sagging flesh bear ointment
Secret balm from the rhyming unsteady palm leaves of the winds
That flute clearly to ancestors those eternal silent songs.
4
Known are those festal spirits of your night
From whom many lives readily spring forth:
Mused thru’ the voices of strong mortal compeers –
Priests, priestesses, praise-singers, warriors, dancers!
That with gusto, flounder across the space of time;
O, for those festal moments of flush! o, for the celestial clime!
5
You are the unseen bridge of the world,
Like Nturukpa, that elder amongst our ferry trees;
Your bark exhumes the bright colours of the past;
And carried thru’ the festal wings of your night
We desire to be mused to the ethereal clime;
Of uncurbed equanimity and euphoria of the divine.
6
I now know the anguish of these festal spirits
Who take refuge on the water-void banks
Of the topmost branches and leaves;
I now know the noise of their feasts in sacrifices:
Doleful sacrifices in the gods’ swollen foot!
Then adieu! adieu! from the cloyed humans in advent!
7
O farewell! with all your festal spirits,
Who coaxed to the night of sacrifices, priests,
Priestesses, dancers, praise-singers, warriors of the land;
Adieu! with these cold celebrations and coax-throated songs heard,
Thru’ the voice and echoes of rain’s thunder,
In the day of the panther and his noble twin, the hunter.
“The home of my dream lies within me.” By author
**************************************************************
No. of lines; 30
River, Heart, Erase, Gaze, Lush, Tender
The Home of my Dream
Near the mouth of the river of my dream
At the heart of lush tall tropical trees
Where the shining sun sparkles its first beams
I have nestled my humble little lee
From where I can gaze at nature`s beauty,
Away from the dull maddening city.
I rise to the tune of chirping of birds
Stroll to the sweet air of the river`s song
Reap the benefits of health as reward
Inhale the freshness of air all along
Cultivate my own riverside garden
Which I till at leisure during weekends
The quietude of the clime I relish
To survey the glow of my inner self
The solitude of the farm I cherish
To ignite the light found within myself:
It`s indeed, a piece of heaven on earth
I won`t like to quit until my last breath.
The tender seeds of life I grow with love
Which I intersperse with flowers of charm
All along the long alleys of my grove
Which I maintain for the shine of my farm,
For fulfilment of my long cherished goal
Of attaining the depth of my own soul.
No gales or storm will erase from my mind
My deep affection for nature`s beauty,
Rather it will ever and ever shine
As a sincere, sublime, soulful duty
As a mark of reverence for nature
As an act of love for Divine Mother.
I am Saul, beset, besieged, afraid to face the war
Without the latent singing of my natal star
Exposed. Fiends and witches medium know alone
To bring up a spirit or read the scattered bone
But those dark, heinous hags are no more
With venom wrath I slaughtered and purged them
And still find no praise in the silence of my core
From him who first hated them ... no ah nor em.
I am Saul, speak to your king, is any left
To compose me, I now of old Samuel bereft
Can find no spark of God or light abroad
Endor is far, the trek is hard, trek is hard.
One witch is there, you are sure? One for me
To consult and consort and be forgiven
One to tell aught of promise or pallid tragedy
How stands my course between hell or heaven?
At dead of night, the deadly still becalms the world
And I am cloaked darkest rags and identity curled
Catlike within, laden with ritual wage I venture forth
To convent with awful hag, and make my fickle sport
And then a hollow voice was heard, a distant chilling
Echo, with edges icily dripping in the dark of my heart
The witch of Endor like a foggy figure, rising and nearing
The leaves and all things normal fled, or moved apart.
Then out of the cavernous depths of earth
I Saul saw, like entrails from a flimsy sow at birth
The form, the icy apparition that soon became
Exactly as the figure of he as Samuel named
Looming me with frightening spite to the end
The sword twisted, gut wrenched, headless time
Mark how the judgment my soul have rend
Mark me shivering in the alien, cold, callous clime.
What thing is this, what dreadful horror to my eyes
Seditious vampire, treason is the altar of reason's lies
Yet nothing shakes me cold unless the force is real
The apparition came and went and my fate was sealed.
And I Saul, king, who heard the dead groaned before
A thousand cruel ways upon a bloody floor, aghast
Beheld what had no explanation in temple or shore
Sin's perdition entangled me from a calamitous past.
As little child walked in the field of flowers,
Picking and smelling them as she grows,
The pervading air fragrance of Guava
The majestic mellow Mangoes too in wet season,
The atmosphere of green garden eggs,
Caressing melody of crunchy carrots cracker,
The hidden colours of pineapples,
Bulb of yellow oranges lighted the line green trees,
Would be in season all year, including rags to
riches filling Maize
And pods shelled nourishing beans,
Surging umbrella leaves of papaya,
Shallow rooted coco-yam,the variegated
lettuce that brightens everyday,
With the crowded bananas are growing everyday,
But now,they are in wet tins and dry cartons
For that very busy mankind.
The landscapes within are beautifully measureless,
The Jacaranda and Tamarind trees had cast
Their shadows on the plain, and not forgetting,
The Silk-cottons and the wilderness of palm fruits
That grow tall and sure,
And under them we played cracking out nuts and
eating them,
But now, elevated long balcony, we have
That you stand and weep of the passing phases.
The sepulcher we all grew up in,
Might not be the same dungeon now,
And the cradle you are born in
Could well be the same abode now,
Thatched roof has given birth
To corrugated reflections,
Likewise the fragile asbestos fight for space with concretizing flat,
The mud debris has turned to bricks and plaster erect;
New galaxies of dwelling and scattered
About in a festival of designs;
Some are like an octagonal
A cone, a triangle and spec angular façade yet unseen;
All glasses, cupped and straight down
Like the eccentric mansions in heaven,
The spec tropic clime had turned suddenly,
The wind blows and smell of change,
The sun blaze down on man and space and warned,
Of great consequent yet in the
Outer-atmosphere would burst,
As we are cuddly warm
The poles wildly discharged their zillion captured
Water in a spasm of deluge right upon us…I think,
Like urchins, we fumble forgetting the next hour,
But what would happen is nature’s raison d’etre;
Man and his environ scope both have shibboleth gone pathways
And fast we are turning into artificial humankind.
My dear friend.
The first time we met,
as I held a door open for her stride,
I saw not the eye's image, not yet;
I glimpsed, outwardly, her beauty inside.
I did a double take at that smile,
heard her thanks and silently rejoiced;
her normal visage I saw, after a while,
and 'til now this thought I had not voiced.
We walked inside, and with so many others
we covered that room in song.
Unfamiliar, not yet in practice brothers,
nonetheless not a thing could any find wrong.
Music quickly became our bond,
leading to so much more.
Of her humor and spark, I am quite fond,
life near her never close to a bore.
With the clarinet she made art,
but too, just so with her hands;
the lady with the large heart
your attention her muse commands.
She's told me of despair complete,
of feeling all hope, at times, gone.
She found a way to fight, compete;
to win out to a new dawn.
Faint of heart, weak of gut,
none can accuse her of having been -
we've discussed disease, pain, smut,
her sensibilities speaking falsely of sin.
For in her I can detect none,
one just wanting to forgive, smile and laugh.
I often help her get the latter done,
both drinking deeply from friendship's carafe.
Once so long ago, for so short a time,
we were somewhat more than friends,
kisses and walks shared in a courtier's clime;
never been strained since - just the way life wends.
Then, thousands of miles apart,
we talked not quite so often;
then, difficulties pierced her heart,
my words the blows to soften.
Still she's suffering, sadly,
still she's stuck sorrowed;
yet some small slice of it I have to see gladly -
at least that it's my solace she's borrowed.
For she's recovering some of my sanity,
giving me that much more connection to home -
to the therein found sample of humanity
that's solemn upon seeing me roam.
Just today, she's helped me all anew,
drawing the weeping wolf, in exchange for this -
envisioning what will be my new tattoo,
a new mark on the flesh, to reminisce.
No matter what trials befall her in this life,
she simply must know that she's never alone;
during the tribulations and strife,
she just has to pick up the phone.
My dear friend.
He Lives Now, A Man With A Broken Sword
He lives now, a man with a broken sword
In youth, a mustang - now a dying breed
In those days his spirit often soared
As once he did, allow his heart to bleed
His sword was so oft slashing its way through
Painting red amidst world's wicked decay
Life and Loving, both were so very new
Vowing to defeat this world- his own way
Now the memories, they shout - "hold thee fast"
You cannot conquer sad ravages of time
Your victories remain but die is cast
Tis far too late to seek another clime
His once shining sword - now a broken tool
He no longer sees dawn's resplendent glows
Too oft wonders if he has been a fool
Having been beaten by life's many blows
Looking at the now and what was back then
How he without fear once the dark world fought
His trusty, shining sword once was his pen
Yet in Fate and Time's trap his is now caught
With a grieving heart he signals his defeat
No more does his free spirit dance with glee
No longer does his soul each new dawn greet
Sword and pen no longer remedy see
He lives now, a man with a broken sword
In youth, a mustang - now a dying breed
In those days his spirit often soared
As once he did, allow his heart to bleed
Robert J. Lindley, 1-09- 2021
Rhyme, ( Finally seeing life and the darkness closing in )
**********
The Clear View That Has Finally Been Found
When the pen and sword can no longer flash
Writing no longer gifts its sweetest glee
Night's dreams are terrors - aching heart rehash
And dawn's glory fades into poison seas.
Truth is too oft a gem so rarely found
Life is an accumulation of pains
Invisible chains, prisoner earthbound
What of living and true hope yet remains?
And life and living sets a darker course
Through evil world, its meandering maze
Nothing can defeat that invisible force
Or serve to stop its dark destructive phase.
Now the memories, they shout - "hold thee fast"
Your victories remain but die is cast.
Robert J. Lindley, 1-09- 2021
Rhyme, ( Finally seeing life and the darkness closing in )
Incomprehensible space/time continuum intrigues...
One insignificant, infinitesimal
incomprehensibleness cosmic speck,
who doth readily confess
swallowed within
infinite cosmic wormhole, nonetheless,
he feels mind boggled, fascinated,
transfixed... helpless to express
following concept suddenly
gripping his feeble mental compass.
I haint never gonna get
smart enough to understand
supposedly how universe
under contract to expand
subscribers embracing divine
intervention ascribe to invisible hand
cosmographical phenomena defies
garden variety *****sapien
understanding schema so grand
feeble analogy whereby
Neanderthal apt to understand
lingual mechanics predicated
I grammatically, markedly, pointedly...
exclaim with ampersand.
No particular reason nor rhyme
prompted contemplation
Einsteinian/ Stephen
Hawking concepts sublime
defy one average guy
way past his prime
ideal, optimal, universal... time
to fortify i.e. cognitive ability
brewing, immersing, steeping... gray matter
within astrophysicist clime,
now punishing ignorance mime
limited aptitude climb
stymied best taught during childhood
undoubtedly education pioneer - Haim
Ginott speculate would even
advocate buzzfeeding fetus
with intelligent boosting enzyme.
I chomp at the metaphorical bridled bit
and chafe not being genius like Trump pit
ing president (gag me with a spoon),
and lemme don pith helm mitt
this crash test dummy, whit
no shadow of doubt ready to quit
human race if said nitwit
nabs 20/20 election twit
tilling, spindling, mutilating,
fondling... constitutional sacred writ
issuing dynastic emperor gambit
hastening cremated ashes (mine)
launched into distant orbit
bajillion light years
careering, hopscotching, zipping
eventually reincarnated into runny Babbit
ironically enslaved for profit
blindly obedient dagnabbit,
indentured as intergalactic caddy
fired while under probation as apprentice
up Paul ling lee forced to exit
Sartre's stage door left sporting
embarrassing MAGA prison outfit
hustled away courtesy
as laughingstock exhibit.
Thus, I helm ship of state into black void
alone within cosmos, yes...overjoyed!
The wood misunderstood the knife, the ax, the scythe
though for centuries it had sheltered man and should not
have misunderstood man's intent.
Wind chimes sublime mime melodies wordless tones
without rhyme noting not the passing of time.
The endless sky buoys the trees leaves on coy up drafts,
wafting orange, gold and green to the cheeks of cumulus white,
enjoying the dichotomy between soft and hard.
Thermal columns deploy destroyed bits of bough.
Seeds of all kinds entwine, caress, combine, they're of one mind;
they procreate by design, wind borne to other climes.
And so, the firmament complies for known reasons
not to be undone each season, each tree, a beason from on high
reseeding forests from the ax's treason; gifting the breath
on which all life relies.
Maple, oak, ash, pine, spruce and even palm, their numbers
whittled by man's metal, leaving homeless little creatures
trapped between man in the middle of a serious decline.
Even man's life is belittled for greed rules.
The smaller things those on wings are routed out on
wind and tide. Burnt sprouts crisp without, caused by drought
there's little doubt about their demise.
The beauty of a bumble bee, a ladybug, a seed blown on
an autumn breeze, they matter. The natural world man's torn
and tattered leaving empty nights without the chatter of the frog
and cicada. The owls they've scattered, their prey feed on poisonous scree.
Soon only waves of mindless prater will fill the wind come from the sea.
Forewarned by Prime now's the time to shift our focus to what's sublime
labeling pollution as a crime. Let man heal the clime
repay his greed with natures green.
So disengage decrease your horde, live a simpler life, be sage.
The earth breathes, in wood, wind, water, and metal now fire
burns the stage, the elements are God's gauge.
Damp this all to human rage.
would
could
should
misunderstood
wood
sublime
rhyme
chime
mime
time
enjoy
coy
buoy
deploy
destroy
entwine
kind
line
climes
mind
reason
season
treason
beason
undone
metal
little
belittle
riddle
middle
out
doubt
routed
sprout
drought
shatter
prater
matter
tatter
chatter
sublime
climb
time
crime
prime
gauge
sage
stage
disengage
rage