Long Cloister Poems
Long Cloister Poems. Below are the most popular long Cloister by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cloister poems by poem length and keyword.
Each cock that crows in the morning
mourns the death of dusk.
The silent sunrise reminds sages of the
reality of human mortality.
Thirsty, mother-earth drinks the teardrops
from the soiled skies;
ever hungry, the garden feasts on feeble leaves
from trees in autumn;s wake.
Each new moment dances with radiant rays,
only to be nailed on a nocturnal cross
when shadows betides.
Every being with blood and breath
entered a pact with vanity before birth;
Human existence is a sacred script
scribed with an invisible ink...
writing nothing on something.
The reality of yesterday
cannot rid today of its obscurity,
uncertainty sweetly sleeps in the
womb of... time to come,
time and chance melt into memories,
memories that roam in the human mind.
Years, months and days distil
into sweet and sorry stories.
Moments is what life offers us
on a platter of preference:
a time to live and a time to leave
this world of wealth and want;
seasons stop by to sigh--
weather whispers words of wisdom.
we are who we are; the earth
exists in spaces and stratas.
The sinking sand on which we stand
is willing and waiting,
it will take nothing from us
but that which we cannot afford:
Nothing but the dignified dust that we are.
I know two mindless weights
that make all things equal:
Twenty-four-hours-a-day and
six-feet under mother-earth.
Alas, there are two dates not
hidden from the lustful gaze of fate:
when the womb opens the
narrow gate to human existence
and when the tomb opens wide
the gate to extinction… afterlife.
There is going to be a word on the marble
that we will not live to write or read,
Yet it will be a concise piece of our deeds;
all what we wrote on life.
Time and chance will knock again
and again on the door of destiny;
So, cloister your memoir with courtesy
while you yet live in this frail field.
Only few men crave the den of darkness,
dust and ashes, but it is the truth is
that all men will run into it at a point in time;
There is a time to be born
and a time to bid life farewell,
Twain moments that sandwich the opportunity
...to live for humanity or live in mediocrity.
Adeleke Adeite © September, 2012.
Sponsor SKAT A
Contest Name free verse (old/new)
Contest Description
1 original, poem on the theme of ......free verse .......
Any form is acceptable.
There, mustardseed scatter’d on firm cement
Frank’s sense all but gone as architect-
ural borders take shape: the cloister sports
Blue-green algae tanks | engineer-BREW
guard’d by python & html
Biomedical men GIVE IT | in overt
Exxon | two two-by-fours square in threes
Three-D printed modules fit to serve | reptilian feet |
Purpose, _\\r eign on airblade | land | mobility
Frontier for fuel sources | long estuaries
Deleted | terrestrial features close (enough) | heavy forests
Porous | aspiration making redundant | lungs on a bank
Tread steady no advice unless it's not your hand lever
Shifting gears | what : anonymous man receives sold
Compensation & homemade spirit | suicide kit | kids & all.
A few flew fewer | arms media call | out (we fall)
Clora, Clora,come view what's been made | fish bowl
Have we contriv’d it well? What’d yer think it’d spill
Over cliché onto en|trusted avenues | photovoltaic
Cells | cowr'ing autonomic cars | partial parsed splay
Conversations converge pariah at Digital Laboratory, the e-
State sanctions words You were so tender, then |
backwards European pulp | parcel in parts | merchant captains
Tall they list | & no phone to clone army exit | fashion
Ozone-graded hum mannerism Hell to
Helm until fricative F-stop opened up vowel zone | scarecrow
CDC panic CFCs a homecoming void music | cake
O Laura, Larry me this aura, lend aurora | cigarette
Facility ; easter greens, northern sky,
No lights, no Clora but address, echo chamber –
Should it be given | meaning | text pro|verb as from
A monk’s time sweeping just falls
Praying midst-a-an-&-w/ text, hard barks,
Vests to hold in endure – endings,
Morphiniplotic, making too-easy terms nation hooked
On hides, trademark dress-up bird nest,
Sycophant cardinals | gains on rubberized telephone line
You live in this. May matter | main vein mayday clarity
In dialogue a-group specifies prediction Species decline.
Fog enters a nature walk without invitation;
Creating a rhythmic step as a new sensation.
The fog creeps slowly along on tiptoes of dew,
Hushed in the after dawn, leaving behind no clue.
It appears out of nowhere like invading ghosts in the air,
Touching the tree trunks with fingers as in a prayer.
The dawn takes on the feel of a comforting cloister,
Untouched and pure as a pearl within an oyster.
The fog wraps all of nature in ethereal mist,
Mysterious and mystical, if you get my gist.
It meanders thru a labyrinth of passageways and lanes,
Like a ghost moving in slow motion wrapped in chains.
The fog moves like a coward in the open ground,
Then makes like a thief toward the ocean sound.
The bone white veil ebbs and flows like a restless tide,
We feel such movement deeply within us inside.
It wraps all of nature in its shroud of unholy dread,
Before settling down everywhere as a holy wonder instead.
Around the fog hovers a compelling sense of presence,
Giving the feeling of being watched in my very essence.
There is something about fog that arouses primeval instinct,
Ever wary and watchful as I walk through this eerie precinct.
I could feel a very old sorrow enter on the fog’s broom,
Reluctant at first then surrounding everything in its gloom.
Wisps and columns of fog rising out of the colossal trees,
As if on a spirit-journey, pausing in prayer on its knees.
The fog lifted me to a strange and intimate awareness,
Of an ancient past that does not yield itself to tenderness.
Phantom-filled fog inclined to play tricks on a malleable mind,
Harboring emotions and sacred sentiments of the human kind.
The fog now fragmented, floundering and breaking away,
On its way to the edge of the horizon without undue delay,
Following paths thru forest and glade a hundred years old,
Leaving behind in its wake thousands of years of being bold.
In wandering, if ever you encounter such a mystical specter,
Breathe deeply its primordial air as a sign that you respect her.
In between mental boundaries,with new fathoming’s to founder.Surreptitiously approaching, one’s ownunconscious mind colloquy.Looking for the entrance,introspectively the door is not there,so how to circumvent this block?Did they just naturally imagine this,compartment subconsciously?Expressing this waggle dance from a cloister,past falling into rabbit holes and the rainbows,standing on the threshold of imaginary doors.Drinking both bottles and taking both red and blue pills,at the same time, metaphorically speaking,past the matrix of choice, spiritually speaking.More than chemical and more than electrical!These are but high imaginations, to cast down.The myth of only ten percent of brain use andon the contemplation, of things of the mind.We should ask the creator of the mind yet,so many, stand at the door and dismiss it as imaginary,while some stand on the other side,beckoning them to come to and go through the door.Please consider this! John 10:9 I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.
1.
Narcissus
There's a lot of room left in your head yet, my brother
There probably always will be.
Yours the realm of sliderule order
The self-denial of the man who believes in Facts.
Your feet planted firmly on the Earth
While your head inclines to the stars.
You could well serve as God's measurements taker.
Your home is the cloister,
The sound of sandal upon stone
Will usher you in and usher you out
As you pass through the halls and cells
Of your ruthlessly well managed life.
The quiet warmth of candlelight
Has always shone in your eyes.
How much I admire your strength and discipline,
Yet how much the more do I pity you,
O Master of the Mind!
2.
Goldmund
O what a lucky ladies' man you've been,
My darling, handsome little Goldmouth!
Kissed them all and not a one cried
When you left them.
There was too much of your mother in you for that.
The libertine's life was the road you followed,
Running ahead of wilting youth.
You saw the plague and its silent horrors
And killed two men yourself,
Got a taste of the gallows,
Yet lived to tell it all.
You lived much, suffered much,
Burnished your soul to its final brightness.
When you fell and broke your ribs
To breathe your last in icy waters,
Alone beneath that dark, unpitying Winter's sky,
Mother called you back.
In a vast universe, I am one, all alone,
Mere speck that I am, in a quest you may know.
Filled once again so many questions to ask,
that are timeless and ancient, since origin of man.
I'm embraced by the night, and the cool damp grass,
as I wander around, beneath the vast stardust sky.
I ponder of things, that are hidden away.
and I pray that somehow, the answers will come.
While the heavens conceal, in a cloister, unknown,
my own little world, holds a million demands.
How foolish they seem in the scheme of all this.
What lies far beyond...in this universe, grand
How do I matter ....why do I exist ?
Where are the answers? What have I missed?
A lone shooting star,...then another comes close...
Yet, soon, disappearing,... to where, I don't know...
Burning a hole into the riddle of time,
leaving behind moon's light, with weight on my mind
Another star falls, with a tail streaming bright
Imprinting new meaning, far into the night
With insight, I wonder, how often ignored,
are the answers we long for, yet, left at our door?
I will look to the sky where my answers may be
Oh, the heavenly comfort hovers with me
Oh, the mystery that lies in the vast Milky Way
Perhaps there are answers, we may find them some day
White ice now is falling, all over the sky...
leaving trails that have purpose, ....and then so now,...do I
__________________________________________________________
Submitted for Verlena's Contest:2/5/15
Air smelling lavender lily, in splash of wild flowers.
Bowers of rustic rosebuds, first love fragrance hours.
Cloudless skies exalt blue, fuzzed in luscious green.
Daffodils of yellow beams, bloom with night jasmine.
Ephemeral path of blue birds, sync butterflies scarlet,
Fancy rejoice of dalliance, in pink and purple banquet.
Gardens cloister colored valleys , petals in avalanche
Hyacinth perfumed sunshine, glossy blossoms branch.
In transit, cold greets summer, change of fresh attire,
Juvenile mind that's young, feels like flying higher.
Kisses stolen in gentle flirts, flowing streams of nectar,
Love sings joy and dance, in promise of new laughter.
Magical burst of smiling buds, re-sprout hidden hope,
Notes of mirth in dulcet , birds weave nest to cope.
Orange foliage sets fire, as decors of art unveil.
Primrose bedecked palanquins , sway in royal gale,
Queen of nature rides in beauty, crocuses in thicket.
Resurrected winter mist,..in green life, all succulent.
Sonnets, ballads, songs, gallery of dream for ages
Timeless glory of beauty in painter and poet pages
Up from a pastel sky, nymphs walk down filigree paths
Valentine day's just gone, the season of love to last
Wild cherry blossoms of silk, greet in a pink hello
Xylophone notes chant in a stream of music flow.
Young lovers gyrate... in a romantic love affair
Zephyr wind throws a hug,...Spring is in the air.
15th March 2019
just a little more time is all where asking for
just a little uncertainty can bring you down
falling emblems that drape the nomadic tapestry
in conclaves of dwarfed resolution of pillars of thought
where do we begin when we fall once again
a plate of fries with ketchup on the side
laughter has inhanced the mood as tombstones are fastened in lone pillars
there is music in my heart now that you are gone from me
years of vice has thrilled me to an end in sight
forget the night & the day is far spent
alone in my room & then I stare at the wall
in the back of my mind I hear my conscience call
telling me I need a girl whose as sweet as a dove
for the first time in my life I see i need love
shelter me in so I can breath with grace seasoned with salt
Be to me a Sanctuary.
Cloister me with love.
Shelter me.
In covert hide shade my face
With yours, enter into
Every cell of me, to prove
My Rock's soul spacious.
Shelter me.
Roof me with your heart.
In seclusion cover and
Umbrella me, with skintight
Fit, so we wont part.
Shelter me.
Be to me a valiant Knight.
Fight for me with words.
Love's darts, tried and true.
Soften me, nightly.
Shelter me.
Gold-filled verses will,
Like swords, cut small doubts
Right out, unleashing
All my yielding soul.
Shelter me,
Then I will wholly know
Love's conquest has occured.
What is a square, a shape, container quadraphonics, a traditional rollerskate
What is an atrium, a fireplace, a closet
What is a boxing ring, a gymnasium, blackboard
What are a checkerboard, deck cards, crossword puzzle, jigsaw puzzle, dice
What is a bed/mattress/ boxsprings/sleeping bag
What is a swimming pool, shower/bathroom stall
What is an upright piano/organ
What is a refrigerator, microwave, cellphone, monitor, TV, a room laptop, curio What is a dinette, medicine cabinet, bathtub
What is a book/shelf/sheet/tablecloth/towel/handkerchief
What is a quadruplet, quadrant, quadriceps muscle, cubic, square knot
What is a cushion, table, mirror, milk carton, van
What is a suitcase, cigarette pack/carton, bowling alley
What is a filing cabinet, bureau, grandfather clock, casket
What is a trampoline, stadium, arena
What is a deck, galleria, patio, smoke pit, plaza, terrace, aquarium, cloister
What is a tent, arcade, forum, mall, piazza, right-angled, square feet, acre
What is a parking space, pinball machine
What is a color scheme Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Black
What is the smell of chocolate
What is the taste of cocoa
What represents the seasons
ANSWER: The number ....
2020 January 30
What's In A Number Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Juliet Ligon
IF ONLY RAIN WOULD
I always desired Rain - but this girl needed freedom light as air.
I heard her tapping on my bedroom window there.
She, she teased my neck with cool fingers in the dark;
She remained; her kiss mark, lip mark, love mark.
If Rain came to me from heaven’s blue lake
She’d swiftly swoop and slake
My desert hot and dry with her founts,
Riding her mighty floating white mounts,
Filling me with her life-giving moisture.
But she wouldn’t let me her cloister.
My desiccated seared nothingness,
My empty wearied hopelessness,
My lifeless parched skeleton-seeds lying here would
Be fleshed to flower in her flowing flood -
My barren world would be petal-carpeted.
But all my blooms would unrequited
Be without her liquid passion -
In a Rain-less world of aborted proliferation.
If my beautiful Rain would make love
As if the heavens had trumpeted it above,
Drawing from me the essence waiting to germinate
In her fertile nectar in spate,
Then my grounded seeds would burst with rapture
As Rain stooped my heart to capture.
…………………………………………………………..
Written by Sydney Peck
for the competition “RAIN - THE STORY”
( A Rambling Poet)