Long Congeniality Poems
Long Congeniality Poems. Below are the most popular long Congeniality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Congeniality poems by poem length and keyword.
A bird was born and bred in a nest,
She was preparing for a challenging test,
her wings grew out, she felt she was blessed
the world appeared more colourful and pleasant
Her days of freedom arrived
no more rules to abide,
She was overwhelmed with ecstasy,
and greatly moved by the outward flourishes.
Her spirits rose high,
higher than the limits of the sky,
she ran into a number of companies,
Anonymity turned into congeniality.
She assumed all of them to be frank
but this mistake of hers gave a deep flashback
of all those times when she would try her best
To be recognised as an equal counterpart in friendship
But all the rest treated her like an outsider
They would reject her proposal of being given equal share
Of happiness, acceptance and friendly behaviour,
She would start feeling lonely in a company of many
The world which appeared to be a happy place
Was now the one which had given her memories
Not the happy ones but those, which made her realise
that it's better to move out alone than keep on feeling left out....
(From the way I see it).
Oh! Sweet and kindhearted divinity,
You created humanity
In your peaceful image and identity.
Yet such a pity that from posterity
To President generation, man
Is oblivious of divine reality.
Why is there no congeniality
With your heavenly personality?
I sit and think, sometimes without an eye blink,
Yet my think tank can't fathom
The reason situations stink and sink.
Folks would love you today and hate you tomorrow,
If you care to know, they'll give you an answer
Cheaper than their anger.
Man can't blame God, whatever they cost,
God has a modus that can keep you from being lost
Yet man constructed his mind's road
That leads him to the dust.
Dear Divinity, you created humanity in your love, and
Light so bright than the sun in it's height.
Still man is very wicked and his thoughts so crooked.
People underestimate people because they're rich,
Failing to be cognizance that wealth can't buy death.
Some are poor yet arrogant as tyrant,
They criminalize their lives just to be flamboyant.
Some are rich but never respect the poor,
Some regard them as bad odour,
Trample upon them like the floor
And walk out of them like the door.
Some are poor but never honour the rich,
They bleach their faces, see them
As a threat and never plan to such
Position and level reach.
Why is there no congeniality?
Please divinity, my questions are a reality
Someone walked into where worshippers are gathered
And got everyone slaughtered,
Political bloodshed and religious deceptions
Making the people falter
And much more lives suffer
The malevolence hearts
Killing the earth on daily basis.
Oh! Divinity! Why is there no congeniality
With your spotless personality?
CHARLESMELODY
( lightning Ink).
He wrote kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill all over his paper.
He is nine, opinionated, and loves negative attention.
He likes positive attention too,
but getting negative attention works faster.
Angry teacher brings him to my office with the clipboard as proof.
She hands me the clipboard.
They were supposed to write their feelings she says.
His face is a storm cloud. He shuts down for ten minutes.
This gives me time to write a bit of poetry.
When he is ready to talk, he turns into Mr. Delight.
We do this dance a couple of times a semester.
I am patient and know the rules. I let him control the situation.
He now wants to talk and play in sand.
I get the sand out.
He becomes Mr. Congeniality.
Tells me about his grandpa.
His grandpa is called Uncle Joe curiously enough.
Uncle Joe is 83.
He says, “If he gets a girl and marries it, I get to speak the words.”
“You mean you get to be the preacher?” He nods.
What age girl is he looking for?
Someone young, maybe sixty-four.
Sadly, I know no sixty-four-year-olds.
How soon do you think you can speak the words?
"When I am 18," he says.
Which brings Uncle Joe to 92.
I ask him to never write “kill kill kill kil kill” again at school.
He says “okay”.
It is over unless the teacher riles him up again.
Which I hope does not happen.
Inside familiar folds of my hanging apron
I encounter a blinkless miniature figurine
Glossy, posable, plastic as a Lego creation
Loyal component of kitchen enforces routine
Breakfast allures with buttery muffins toasted
Lunch- a- lot predicts sandwich towers teetering
Dinner calls for lavish legs of livestock roasted
Day which follows knows a sequence repeating
Pack away cycle of soap, soak, replace, bench polishes
Scouring for recipes, Lego lady's eyes neatly smile
Cinnamon wafting whirlwind with servitude accomplishes
Devourers' belches earn her Master Caterer title
Beneath bed, which ejects me at six am alarm
Failed slipper search produces palm sized plaster sculpture
Icing faced, eyes without memory, eternally calm
Solid base she stands on stops commotion from toppling her
Nine am sees my arrival, politely inquiring co-operation
Afternoon forgets to yawn, incessant key tapping keeps on
Harsh carpark steps echo, repell dusk's contemplation
Traffic jams tomorrow's chasms, where dreams hold reunion
Crisp gives way to crinkles, plaster sculpture refutes
Her congeniality and aptitude due to exhaustion
Chalky cheeks split with encouragements' overuse
Legs held as one are motionless to express discourse
Steam escaped open door shows mirrored me showered
Bounce of towel buffed flesh rises in delightful nonchalance
Droplets of conciousness roll a path cleansed in empowerment
Serpent tongue hair saturates time, attacks life with vehemence
In the secluded seashore of isolation islands,
people build desire castles with dream sands,
protect the fragile precincts with fervent care
from the beleaguering waves breaking on them.
The strife surge washes away the forlorn abodes,
grief is hidden in insular souls of lonely people.
With magical spell I will change them into
convivial people, they will be gregarious.
Behind the closed windows on sunlit meadows,
enveloped by the seamless drape of dismal darkness,
people morph into dense slices of moonless night.
Along their formless periphery I pass them by,
but can’t see through the obscurity, can’t perceive
the true substance of the opaque people.
With magical spell I will turn them into
transparent people, they will shine like crystals.
Reticent people fly like frigid birds in the misty sky,
their restrained wings flap aloof in the chilled wind.
In the crevasse of their glacial hearts
frozen emotions sink, can’t soar in the spring sky.
The warm embrace of empathy they don’t feel,
for they are condemned as cold people.
With magical spell I will convert them into
affable people, they will conform congeniality.
Despondent people make their lives desolate desert,
the charm of oasis desiccates in the dunes of discontent.
Blazed by the flare of their scorched minds
the foliage of ardent passions burns, doesn’t rustle
with the tune of impassive melody of their hearts,
for they are denounced as wooden people.
With magical spell I will transform them into
verdant trees, they will sprout joie de vivre.
______________
February 28, 2023
For Brian Strand Premier No. 1192
As the scarlet sunset sets fire
in the fading satin sky, making a surreal collage
of vermillion ember motif, glowing bright.
Swathed by its crimson radiance of congeniality
I wake up feeling the last touch of the departing summer.
The spectrum of dawn turns to tinsels in the cerulean sky,
shrouds the floating detritus of the desiccated clouds.
The nip in the crisp air of the crystalline morning
makes the seamless sky of my psyche sense
the waft of the winsome summer sauntering to its end,
as the serenading zephyr sings the farewell song for me.
The trail of rains fades at the fringe of summer,
supple northern breeze whispers to me
the tune of a new beginning.
The strands of silver clouds slowly sail away
grazing the ash of the end-summer’s smoky sky.
Sunburst horizon spreads the gossamer drape,
as the tepid spectrum emits from the slant sunrays.
Aureate autumn arrives with diaphanous aura,
the wispy clumps of the silken clouds
sail as the fashioned flotilla of fantasy
across the cobalt charisma of the sapphire sky
where the beguiled birds bathe
in the gorgeous glint of the blue bay.
From the lucent brink of the sunburst horizon,
kaleidoscopic colors spill from the dawn’s pallet.
Slender blades of beige grass sway in bracing breeze
on the lap of the maroon meadow,
morphing into cinnamon pasture.
The crown crafted with the drops of diamond dew,
flashes with the finesse of dawn’s opalescent glow
while the fiery colors burn the foliage face of sepia trees.
The echo of the fall’s faint footfall
I hear in the rustle of the golden leaves.
Awakening Contemplations
Perception of reality changing in a second
The Invention of congeniality as I wait for you to beckon
The Australian informality of “yeah whatever you reckon!”
The North Korean missile strikes looking to constantly threaten
World stability and Universal peace
The unpaid rent, a broken lease
A reason to vent, an estranged niece
A persistent strain of thought that simply will not cease
Chemical warfare and secluded drone strikes
A Ukrainian counteroffensive in the middle of the night
The oppressed peoples will to stand up and fight
Searching for a future that has the potential to be bright
Ghengis Khan, Nostradamus and Shakespeare
No intention to harm , only to disqualify your fears
An isolated old woman breaking down in tears
A forlorn ex-revolutionary marvelling at the passing of the years
The recollection of youth passing by far too quickly
A monsterous uncouth agent described only as prickly
The bubonic plague recreated and the people are sickly
The presidential race and how it’s run politically
Beauty and science and history and mathematics
All by the bass note as it sounds that fantastic
We revere what William Wordsworth wrote and produce more ecstatics
As the oceans and rivers fill up with plastic
Daring souls on the edge of inventions and ideas
The whole on the ledge, financial systems in arrears
Climate change deniers red faced as the carbon emission clears
Interpol debased as the criminal network sneers
Apathetic resignation as life passes you by
Magnetic mutations as people begin to ask why ?
Frenetic contemplations as salt water flows from my eyes
Epic considerations as the elderly prepare to die
An evening with Shostakovitz and classical relief
An interim meeting with a dogmatic thief
A tight fit unit bringing Humanitarian Relief
A man that doesn’t know his own philosophical and spiritual beliefs
There’s a a path that is right and a path that is taken
As you arrive at your future self quite visibly shaken
There’s nothing left but what remains to be mistaken
And the epiphanies experienced as your soul begins to awaken
Copywrite 2023 Elizabeth Moroz
Don’t insult me with mediocrity
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of passion
Of intensity
Trilling “I'll set you on fire”
Mentality
Not a “Sure, why not?”
Neutrality
Don’t insult me with mediocrity
When it comes to love.
Don’t appease me
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of dignity
Of sincerity
Honest “I can see through you!”
Ability
Not an “I’m so touched”
Complacency
Don’t appease me
When it comes to love
Don’t quiet me
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of expression
Of confession
Not a “Everything’s fine”
Morality
But a “You consume me!”
Totality
Don’t quiet me
When it comes to love.
Don’t fool me
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of discernment
Of understanding
Not a “I’ll share you”
Congeniality
But a “You're all mine!”
Fatality
Don’t fool me
When it comes to love.
When it comes to love...
Your my possession
My cognition
My "You're the man of my dreams"
Confession
My "You color my world."
Expression
My "You make me melt."
Obsession
When it comes to love
That's what you are to me.
Jade Celeste
This is a repost of a poem I posted in March of 2013. You can find it if you search for it in the search engine of the site. The interesting thing is....going along with my previous poems, someone once read a poem of mine that was written in this style and posted a comment saying that I write like someone else here on the Soup, as though I were emulating him or trying to impress him. Well, here is a poem from before a time I even knew that person. Well, well...what do you know. It's signature me.
The embodiment of the unique existence,
life is the construct of transient elements,
that align in the plethora of perishable patterns
within the mundane entity of body-mind duality.
Beneath the surface of opaque discernment,
mortal being builds the fragile framework of ego
on the denuded domain of brittle awareness,
that persists to thwart the flow of congeniality.
Deflected from the course of the divine compass,
I’m sucked into the whirlpool of self-centric storm,
that carries me on the course of the insightful flight
in the enlightened sky of astute consciousness.
Divinely designed being floats on concord cadence,
composing in all hearts the cosmic concert of love.
By one common harmonic cord we are all bound,
in one heavenly harp resonates the prime music of life.
Understanding now the true purpose of existence,
I wish I had traveled long ago on adoration pathway
to the consecrated spiritual sanctum of consciousness
to merge with the essence of the self-discerning souls.
We as humans have not a single ounce of morality
We watch babies die and women cry and say it's just another fatality
We sit and lie about our lives and say we have hospitality
We say goodbye to the good times so we can choose neutrality
We try and hide we wont abide out of fear of liberality
We sigh, I sigh, I said we sigh because of your mentality
We might misguide and try to lie but see hatred as sensuality
We define the human mind as something of immortality
We might provide the wrong side the sources for sociality
But don't confide or hide your rights you will always have orality
The worlds combined bring hell alive do you see the criticality?
Stop choosing side like you were assigned that leads to social duality
The left and right will always fight which will always create depravity
We must unite just for the night so we can feel the congeniality