Long Common man Poems
Long Common man Poems. Below are the most popular long Common man by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Common man poems by poem length and keyword.
Amadeus - Amade
Where! Where to honor you, Amadeus –
In the city of the waltz –
In palaces gilded with golden light
In cathedral dust, forgotten,
In mountain havens
Or their ascending heights?
What place –
What faceless stone -
Bids your spirit rest – what marker
Bids auf wierdersehen Amadeus?
The city where the river blue
Still flows –
Eternal life and inspiration -
Forgets where it’s adopted
Mountain child lies –
Nor did it care when last
You gave your soul in soaring melody
Opening for a tone deaf world
The gates of Heaven’s song –
Eternal symphony of God and man.
No master’s requiem wept upon
The winter day
When winter stilled
The life within your flowing harmony –
The waltzing world
Quickly spun away
From genius haunted by night music –
To see the dust of history cast anonymity
Upon a pauper’s place beneath a tiny star
Where jealous mediocrity hides you.
Among the graves of common man
Envy hides your mortal bones
Unmarked, unknown, unsung –
Momentary crushed -
Until the light of purest sound escapes –
The soul of music you set free - in fantasies -
In plaintive prologues - flutes of magic spells -
Slowly swirls above haunted dreams
Shattering shrouds of soundless bonds
To echo forever in perfect notes.
Where! Where to honor you Amadeus?
Not within a city of rococo gates –
Nor shouted from ancient mountain walls –
Your serenades released to the shepherd King,
Born from inspiration’s boneless soul,
Spin in arias through layers of earthbound airs,
Rise slowly beyond portals of mortality;
Your melodies – crescendos in ecstasy
Flowing from the eternal child resolved -
Consummated - liberated – set free!
Long time Shelton, Washington transplants...
also known as
noteworthy Trader Joe's patrons
bass sic lee did treble themselves
conducting taping jam session
assembling (boxing), compiling,
and hermetically sealing tight as a drum so,
a razor sharp machete blade got dull
trying to open in vain said holiday cheer
of awesome delicious goodies,
(especially the yummy
stuffed vine leaves with rice),
which holiday care package
received without fanfare
for this common man,
whose younger sister
(vibrant as Appalachian Spring),
nevertheless wiser sibling
Shari Harris-Dunning
a whiz (hard) at work
tantalizing, teasing, titillating
as a lead wrapper from home grown
organic foodstuffs, she and her bandmates
helped fit perfectly, meticulously,
and snugly together
analogous to outsize constituent components
of intricate jumbo puzzle pieces
amazingly, mathematically,
and thematically linkedin
bearing gifts subsequently mailed
(courtesy the United States Postal Service)
from Bend, Oregon
to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Lemme amplify how creative, innovative,
and opinionative yours truly (me)
a humble wordsmith,
who exhibits his freestyle trademark
Scottish matted style avante-garde,
one run of the mill (by the Floss) bard
wannabe wants to rave about your card,
he presumes unbridled
posthumous fame will ensue
after his lovely bones disintegrate
courtesy cremation, which cremains
symbolically distributed across
all four points across the globe,
cuz the earth will solely serve him
as eternal terrestrial graveyard
ashes repurposed hard
to believe buzzfeeding, jump/
kick starting seeds of life
and white lily obliterating ill-starred
legacy which afflicted one mortal
named Matthew Scott Harris,
whose chronic assault
with mental health issues
undermined realizing his potential.
Into the void of cosmic oblivion
eventually goeth as masterly cell bait,
the once unique human
(cited above) as (e) scripted inevitable fate
of all creatures great and small
death promises to liberate
uniting one garden variety,
and generic soul
linkedin among Spiritus Mundi
a never ending tête-à-tête.
You know what I have never done?
A scandal!
Never have I twirled in another man's arms
Never have I kissed the handsome stranger
Never have I let myself go to the rich man.
Isn't it wondrous,
The curves of a woman are like clandestine valleys
Each discovered by a new wanderer
Like carvings on a sturdy rock
Chiseled, memory by memory.
Am I allowed to tremble?
Or shudder in an induced fear?
The sins of a brazen woman
Are to be purged by the Amazon,
It is but the common man
Who shreds his commonness
And enslaves the Goddesses.
The pieces of you which you have quietly shoved up the closet
Are rattling like the strong breeze has hit them
The storm of a new day.
They come in many different sizes
Different colors, different cuts
All purebred from Poodle planet
No mixing of Martian mutts
Innocently enough we let them into our homes
Now with too many it is to little to late
We've been taken captive without even knowing
By Poodles from Outer Space
Soon, very soon to take over it all
Ruling the world of common man
Getting us to do their bidding at every call
Has all along been their dastardly plan
Leading us to believe that we are the Masters
But what is really behind the bark
And what's up with all the tail wagging
Just waiting it out while playing their cards
And the crazed frenzy in all of the yapping
That they do while roaming in packs
Is just giving away their location
So the Mother Ship knows where they are at
As it continues to circle our planet
In the unassuming shape of a Milk-Bone
The Alien Poodles are in cahoots with Purina
Google it, you'll see I'm not wrong
Years ago they first landed in France
Where quickly they blended in
From there is where they ventured out
Into all the major Continents
Now in every corner of the world
In all of its crooks and crannies
Saying hello to those in the know wherever they go
By their Planet's greeting...the sniffing of fanny
Yes, they are Poodles from Outer Space
So toss that dog a bone
If you ever wonder who is in charge
And who it is that's owned...
I have 3 Poodles that own me...
I swear they're Aliens...
I have traveled the world
Across the oceans and great lands
I have seen this earth from high above
A majestic orb in clouded beauty
From afar the pain of man, unseen
I have exposed myself
Like a naked Rembrandt on display
I was seen in the museum of the common man
As I journeyed far and wide
No one took any notice, of my quiet observations
All my voyages have ended
So now I sit tranquil in the corner
One day, someone will discover me
And see, the stories I have to tell
Of kings and Queens, and lovers lost
I may even tell a tale of woe
A sad story, buried in old archives
Of a love that was both great and sad
For those in love who never knew
The love letter lost, postage due
And therefore, whensoever death shall close my eyes,
I charge you thus to solemnize my doom:
let there be then no long ancestral parade of masks,
nor empty cry of trumpet for my end,
nor spread me a catafalque inlaid with ivory,
nor lay my corpse out on a cloth-of-gold;
no ranks of acolytes with incense heaped on trays:
the plain last rites of a common man be mine.
Grand enough my cortege, if it bears a few slim books,
my ultimate offering to Persephone.
But you, your naked breast all torn, shall follow after,
nor ever weary of calling out my name,
and press your final kisses upon my frigid lips,
while Syrian unguent pours from the onyx jar.
Then last, when the fire kindled beneath has burned me to ash,
consign my relics to a fragile urn,
and plant a laurel spreading over my simple tomb,
to shade the burnt-out cinders of my pyre,
and write: HERE LIES A MOUND OF COARSE, IGNOBLE DUST,
THAT ONCE WAS VASSAL TO A SINGLE LOVE.
My sepulcher shall then achieve no less renown
than has the Phthian hero’s bloodstained tomb.
You also, when your fate draws near, remember me,
and come white-haired to these memorial stones;
meanwhile, have care lest you be faithless to my grave:
this earth will not be wholly dead to truth.
If only in my cradle one of the Sisters Three
had ruled that then I should yield up my soul!
What use to cherish so life’s too precarious breath?
Seek Nestor, who lived three long ages: dust.
Yet if his doom of lingering age had been revoked
on Ilium’s rampart by some Carian’s spear,
he never would have seen Antilochus’s corpse entombed,
nor cried, “O death! Why come to me so late?”
Yet you sometimes shall mourn the lover you have lost:
love lasting is the meed of vanished men;
as, when the savage boar smote delicate Adonis
while hunting once, high on Idalium’s crown,
they say that in those marshes his beauty was laid low,
and that you, Venus, came with loosened hair;
but Cynthia, vainly you will summon back my ghost:
what answer could my crumbled bones return?
— translated from the Latin
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Thursday, December 31, 2020 signals conclusion of latest leap year
Whether alphabetized, digitized,
homogenized, marginalized, satirized... place names
from "A" to Zaire
Thursday, December 31, 2020
signals conclusion of latest leap year.
The Pacific island of Tonga first
to ring in New Year 2021
glad tidings dispersed
celebrated at 10 AM GMT December 31 -
making tiny island nation
first to head into a fresh year.
Second to last
will be American Samoa 11AM –
just 558 miles from Tonga,
where locals and visitors
celebrate a full 25 hours before.
Earth's orbit around the Sun (year)
and rotation on its axis (day) where
latter not perfectly in line there
by necessitating
smooth functioning of Gregorian calendar
(also called New Style Calendar)
which did premiere
fifteen eighty two courtesy king's spear.
Ever since 1752, whence
in the modern sense
the first leap year implemented
madding crowds reportedly rioted
most likely uttering expletive
than "what nonsense"
reportedly riots erupted
courtesy chaos did arrange,
when England made the change
spurring some citizens
demanding immediate compensatory exchange
they get their 11 days back home on their range
from the government haint so strange.
To determine whether a year is a leap year,
follow these steps without Fanfare
For The Common Man
the famous title of Aaron Copeland air:
1. If the year is evenly divisible by 4,
go to step 2. Otherwise, go to step 5.
2. If the year is evenly divisible by 100,
go to step 3. Otherwise, go to step 4.
3. If the year is evenly divisible by 400,
go to step 4. Otherwise, go to step 5.
4. The year is a leap year (it has 366 days).
5. The year is not a leap year (it has 365 days)
In the labyrinth of time, where shadows dance on walls of mist,
An invisible web is woven, finer than the silk thread of destiny,
And Russia, a slumbering bear in the taiga of unspoken dreams, becomes the vessel
Of an unsuspected flow, an underground river of liquid gold and hollow promises.
It's not about subjugation, but a perverse alchemy of money and power,
Where paper empires melt in the crucible of transnational greed,
And taxes, those crumbs of hope for the common man, transform
Into the toxic smoke of an endless war, a ghost haunting the world's conscience.
The United States, an eagle with wings broken by its own grandeur,
Europe, an old lady contemplating her reflection in the shattered mirror of history,
Watch their resources drain through the poisoned arteries of a phantom Russia,
Until they reach the insatiable hands of the elite, the orchestra of this macabre dance.
In the flow of my consciousness, images intertwine like the waves of a turbulent ocean:
Rusty tanks on sunflower fields, false smiles at world summits,
Hungry children in bombed cities and bankers smiling in towers of glass and steel,
All spin in a mad carousel of a war without victory and without end.
The goal is not victory, but the perpetuation of conflict, an eternal fire fueled
By the shattered dreams of coming generations, by the burned hopes of those departing,
An endless war like a Möbius strip, where beginning and end blur
In an infinite loop of suffering, profit, and manipulation on a global scale.
And in this starless night, when the moon hides ashamed of what it sees,
I sit and wonder if there still exists somewhere, in some corner of the universe,
A fragment of humanity untouched by this mire of greed and power,
Or if we are all just pawns in a cosmic game whose meaning escapes us.
Russia, America, Europe - names losing their meaning in the whirlpool of this flow,
Become mere concepts, shadows on the wall of Plato's cave, while the truth,
Harsh and merciless, hides behind the smoke screen of a perpetual war,
A dance of death that will not stop until the last coin is laundered, the last conscience corrupted.
We live in a world so aware of it’s past it knows too take note and notice
yet we as a species are unaware of notes the past says must be noted.
A population with collapsed faith in the establishment
is a population on course to re-establish,
Previous similarities saw revolution formate
Wars on your own kind find resolve through perish.
Followed by a scarred generation with only hope,
a slow rebuild hard on heads up a steeper slope.
In 200 years small chance events seen as dope,
probably not, in reality we’ve put our neck in a rope.
Historically evil acquired power through lost faith,
power abused, selfishly used, expense for the common man,
who stood up and died until power removed.
The results of lost faith, please understand.
POLITICIANS,
MUST RISE TO THE HISTORIC CHALLENGE PUT BEFORE THEM,
ONLY THROUGH ACCOMPLISHMENT CAN THE COUNTRY PREVENT CRUMBLE,
AND ONLY THEN MOVE TO PROGRESS.
BREXIT MUST HAPPEN,
IT'S OUR FUTURE,
THERE'S NOTHING ELSE.
The lost referendum may leave you sore,
let it go,
17 million people have few options left,
and you should know,
The last option, a revolutionary war.
You lost a vote mate, who gives a duck,
you are pushing our country to self destruct.
Please find resolve and let it go,
you are damaging us,
unaccepted REMAIN voters,
doing unacceptable damage to us.
Leave nature alone
As I walked through the forest, I was in total awe of all the beauty I saw.
Trees that reached up into the skies as white clouds floated by.
Two squirrels playing tag around a tree stopped and looked at me.
In my mind, I heard them say: "Since they've come, life has never been the same - they are taking our homes, our domains. They are cutting down our trees where we play, and our food has been taken away.
GOD gave us these beauties for us to share, yet it seems like they just don't care. No more rivers, lakes, or ponds - all of this will be gone.
No more grass, no more trees, and not even a passing breeze.
All the rapids will still include the mountains and the hills. There will be no more chirping in the trees, and all the ground animals will hide in fear when they see that we are near.
Nature gave us everything that we need to live, but in turn we must give. We must replace all that we destroy for every girl and boy.
We are destroying our planet Earth and taking from it " all its worth ".
Pollution is destroying the skies, the oceans, the rivers, and the streams, and all that's left is just our dreams.
There is civil unrest throughout this world, and countries fighting each other, and all that's heard is the roaring thunder.
All world politicians want control over something they cannot hold, and the will of the common man is something they don't understand.
The public has forgotten the basics and how to survive, and no longer hears the children's cries.
All our pioneers are gone, and no one is left to carry on. We cannot bring back the past, so let's make our future last with no more wars, no more greed on which the politicians can feed.
If animals can live in harmony, why can't we?