Long Coinage Poems
Long Coinage Poems. Below are the most popular long Coinage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coinage poems by poem length and keyword.
She was a slow spoon type of woman who did not rush
Unhurried even if her kitchen curtains were in flamed
We tried to get a rise out of her, but she never overreacted
Amazing those of us who were experts at it.
She was a quiet soul, a gentlewoman who understood things
She spoke with the trees, the wind, the woodland creatures
They enjoyed her enthusiastic meditative ways
Her strength was apparent to them, and they flocked.
She dressed simply, keeping her funds to herself
We never knew how much she was worth in coinage
But in the ways of the wise, she was priceless.
Unhurried, yet commandingly confident and strong.
I am the link to the god all mighty
The grand master of this world
Dollar marks and social security carts
I am the warrior of this waste
The revelator of the word made to taste
The most high, the conduit to creation
The grand motivator
I shake your money maker
The rejuvenator on high
Feel the coming of my fire
The revelator extraordinaire
I am all
I think
I am the word in flesh & desire
I'm here to destroy and redistribute, redesign
Hallelujah, I'm here to tell ya!
The revelation of the revelator
Extraordinaire!
So dig down deep and scrape that coinage
Off that chewing gum and chaw
And give, give the holy dollar in sacrilege
As I rise above the great fanged maw
I'm the holiest of holy all praise the
Orange God, meet the prince, el Presidente
the Anointed One, hallowed be thy name
its kingdom come
on his toilet of golden as it is done
his holy war will be fun...
I'm the revelation the way to his pockets and praise
I'm the evaluator
The motivator
The ecstasy of one
Hollow be thy name
His kingdom is undone
His crown is crashing down
Holy is thy name the grand revelator
NO! Not a sound...!
Your online's only motivator
I am the kink to the all mighty
The grand wizard of this world a' rage
I am the war layer of this waste
The revelator of his word
I do not make haste...
The most holies of high,
The conduit to destruction
The antithesis of one
The grand exploiter
I carry the golden gun
The rejuvenator on high,
The ejaculator between succulent thighs!
Feel the coming of my fire
The revelator extraordinaire
I am all I think I am the word in flesh n fire
I'm here to destroy, redistribute, n redesign
Hallelujah, I'm here to tell ya!
Dig deep and give, give, forgive
The price to heaven, the keys to the pearly gates...OH YESSS....
Between these revelators weather clad highs
I'm the revelation
The elevator
The revival of most high
The master of nigh
Revelations n ruination…
REVELATOR
Surprise!
Oh dear, woe is me
After years of having money
That I can feel and see
I knew how much was in my wallet
That held the notes
Coins jangled in the pockets
Of my outdoor coats
I did not have to worry
If I overspent
I could see what was left in my wallet
And where my money went
I will miss the coinage
And the special notes
This different kind of payment
Does not get this old girls vote
How can you give children
Some coins to put into their pockets
This will not be possible
With a plastic docket
What will happen to the Mint
Collectors of coins and such
Employees will lose their jobs
That won't impress them much
I know a lot of people
Don't share my point of view
Please respect it and
I'll respect yours too
Too much change as we grow old
Seems to dramatic and drastic
That's why I hold the view
Back with money out with plastic
the Priest sucked in his Four Star Brandy
hoping that a drunken release
would help him with his conflict
in an alcoholic sleep of peace
the alky swigged his cider
vintage cheap and strong
the crutch to his addiction
making existence crawl along
from separate drunken corners
each in his own private hell
they were taken by the police
to share the same dingy cell
one having achieved the sought
but only temporary relief
from the stress and the doubt
in the strength of his belief
the other just existing
in his world of sleeping rough
which achieved a sort of stability
if he could only drink enough
one was given a caution
for any man can once fall
the other was jailed
with no sympathy at all
one preached from his pulpit
about the dangers of a hell
as the other spent that Sunday
Morning slopping out his cell.
in this world of contradictions
preconceptions can hold sway
as the alky and the priest were each
assessed in society’s preconditioned way
and the Charity collector
stood and shook his tin
pleased by the growing weight
as the passers slid coinage in
a cheap way to ease a conscience
that really didn’t give a damn
about the stresses and strains suffered
in this strangely unequal world of Man
Still, and again
“Ogongo” crept into my mouth
As I behold the two nocturnal creatures
We have waited endlessly
No longer in my Aunt’s place,
But we became unsolicited watchmen
At the streets gate entrance
It was an ungodly hour
Darkness had key to everywhere
Still, and again
I winked at my cousin
He nodded, and murmured
“They are on their way”
But when midnight started knocking
Out of the furfuled dusk
Appeared the two nocturnal “Ogongos”
One bringing back the memory of the famous Yokosuna
Of the Heavy weight with an heavy duty
To her chest,
Were a very big size-less eve’s apples?
Her mean look compliments her dark complexion
Her burnt lips. . . Reddish eyeballs speak of her as a chimney
My cousin I pity from within my heart
Her hyena-like laughter
Turned me back to the second “Ogongo”
Of a lesser weight to the former
Her Eve’s apples were almost not there
“Bad catch, worst choice”
I echoed to myself until I saw
Her roundly shaped protruding buttock
Speaking louder than a loud-speaker
It overshadows her duck-like ugly mouth
It was an undeniable asset
Indeed, the “Ogongos” are both endowed
With a Unique Selling Point (UPS)
With these, I had taught they can never
Run out of good prices in the market.
Lo and behold,
At the crucial product delivery point
I rushed out of my room
Only to see my cousin outside too
Looking worried and dejected
The “Ogongos” are over-used products
The expiry date lapsed long ago
The USP was a flash in the pan
We both slept in the parlour
Leaving the “Ogongos” in their different rooms
It was a bad deal in a bad day.
Alayande Stephen T
09.55am
20th June, 2007
NB-Ogongo is a coinage for Prostitutes.
In Iba, with Ayo and Yemi, expecting
An Izobo daughter and Tobi’s call.
Glimpse that sure style as muse now springs,
Rouse brilliant poise to craft clear chance;
Echo worthwhile ten thousand things,
Arm affluent voice to draft fine dance;
Thrill precious spills where joy moves brush,
Niche finesse wild that frames each mood;
Etch fragrant fill in dazzling rush,
Speak inner child sheer mystic food;
Signal true pulse in sublime say.
Gain that rich touch where dreams come true,
Use firm impulse to dare pure play;
Indulge as such sheer coinage due,
Delight fond craze as wonder jolts,
Enthuse the daze flash lightning bolts.
Leon Enriquez
24 November 2016
Singapore
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
The air fills with familiar tunes eminating from a flaking dusky red piano, it's master's majestic touch of mitten clad fingers are a sight to behold as they dance sprightly upon ebony and ivory with vibrant tonality.
Strangers amass to witness a crescendo of notes rhythmically blended to produce an ear pleasing multitude of genre encompassing numbers, each one with it's own story to tell as smiles are raised by reminiscing onlookers.
A gracious nod acknowledging the sound of assembled coinage thrust into a warped aged saucepan placed alongside a chrome thermoflask filled with aromatic African flavour, applause aplenty greet the ending of the show as the lid closes on another days play.
18/04/2017
Mirror Of Time
Surrounded by skeletons,
All just a' running and fast,
Occupying their moments and minds.,
Big time,
Regrets of the past..,
To stop themselves espying..,
The mirror of time.
My friend.., my age, a paperboy.,
On his bike ., cycling to catch the freetime
Of a Sunny Saturday morning.,
In 20 Billion., I'll recall him..,
Free-wheeling, right 'long,
The middle line.
Got an advert inter-netted me.,
A mystic, says my future's all set..,
For a minimal amount of coinage..,
Tomorrow's Knowledge.,
And for a coin?
What'd they hope for with what they purloin?
Guess I'll ask them in 20 billion..,
See if they kinda misspent their days.,
They'll just give me their enamoured bible still.., in some kind of reverence,
And say their guns speak louder than prayers.
I'm just surrounded by all these walking skeletons.,
All running around to nowhere and fast.,
Trynna' occupy their minds and their moments,
But the mirror of time and their payment..,
.....Comes....
At last.
Form:
As they leave
They leave with us nothing but an empty
Treasure to treasure which even Judas Iscariot
The disciple’s Treasure cannot measure
And treasure with pleasure.
As they leave,
They victimize and they seize with impunity
And dishonour students’ union leader’s certificates
Since 2000,for leading peaceful protest
Within and outside campus
As they leave,
They leave with stains of blood of 17 pensioners
And their other colleagues in their hands
While younger colleagues and students mere
Exist like living corpses
They vindictively sack staff who tell them
The naked truth and seize food from their families
As they leave,
They leave with our monetised vehicles and valuables
Monetisation another coinage for stealing people’s
Goods and properties
As they leave,
They relish and enjoy destroying people’s lives
And careers, giggling, later, dexterously smiling
And suddenly laughing hysterically like a naked
Beautifully handsome man dancing to no particular
Beat in Dugbe market
As they leave,
They leave with us fusion of confusion
Sensational exploitation and victimization
Intimidation and bastardization of the then
Glorious University of Ibadan culture and traditon
As they leave,
They leave thinking that their evil deeds will
Be buried and buried with them secretly
Alas!!…the wind has blown and the buttocks
Of the mother-hen is exposed.
Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am
Form: