Long Consign Poems
Long Consign Poems. Below are the most popular long Consign by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consign poems by poem length and keyword.
The snowstorm done, I venture out
from here inside my rented space-
a cabin near the mountainside;
I'm lured by beauty, all about.
How still the air- such quiet calm
the dim-lit moon and stars provide.
But, shadows add a warning sign;
I must respect my inner qualm.
The woods around still beckon me;
snow-laden trees, their limbs consign
a sense of peace, for without doubt-
state of quiescence, guarantee.
Whose woods these are, I think I know-
this sacred bliss, God did bestow.
I wish to venture in- but no!
For now, paths hide beneath the snow.
February 16, 2020
~1st Place~
Contest: Lines To Awaken Your Muse
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 03/02/2020
Inspired by prompt 4:
"Whose woods these are I think I know" - Robert Frost
Required Rhyme Scheme: abca dced feaf hhhh
Loaded with spilt oil the tanker delivers its cargo ashore from the sea
Man-woman pressed destiny has relentlessly decreed to forge steel
Rust has settled unkindly by ‘progress’ corroding its soul while wood
With tamed worms could have shed shredded sails for steady repair
Midnight toil from tarred ravens in sable omens omit void and despair
They mock as they engulf soiled meaning tar feather and frighten the light
Depleted the torch has twisted the anchor croaking the stuttering engine
Smeared the sunken tree of beauty fails to seed timid remains of dark timber
Vessels return their burden back to lost hearts blemish inspiring breath
Blood streams of innocence painted in shadows struggle to deliver their
Essence when disempowered streams of kind conscious love’s passion
Miscarry luminous shipments consign a cemetery of grave splintered cross
When the fork in the road waves to wrecked ships and turbulence reckons
As seemingly empty we choose whether droplets of thirst are half full or drained
Cantankerous storms may lead to new compass with the needle carved out
From slumbering lumber setting tentative cruise for the passage of time
06th June 2018
Written for contest: Filled with Ebon Veins
Our spring delivers magic every year-
the time when we applaud its wake-up sign,
as overnight new buds seem to appear!
The days turn longer, warmer- and it's clear
Forsythia splash gold upon the vine!
Our spring delivers magic every year.
Soon, yellow Daffodils bring us more cheer;
sway in the breeze- so graceful by design-
as overnight new buds seem to appear!
The Violets, on lawns both far and near,
in clusters form- with clover they combine.
Our spring delivers magic every year.
And, Dogwood trees stage for a new premiere;
with blossoms- pink or white, look so divine-
as overnight new buds seem to appear.
The spring landscape becomes a new frontier,
when winter passes, gives up to consign-
our spring delivers magic every year-
as overnight new buds seem to appear.
April 12, 2022
Contest: Springtime Villanelle
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Courtesy the miracle of modern medicine
above named prescription medication
expelled, dissolved, cured... out ma skin
involuntary telltale twitching, thrashing
flagging, sacking, tackling... -
scoring field goal and unexpected win
allowing, enabling, and providing therein
peaceful easy feeling twin
affecting yours truly and missus
awoke haggard hung over condition,
viz me kicking as if possessed by jinn
totally unconscious until
brought tummy attention,
whereby said pharmacological script
evidenced ear to ear grin
the spouse enjoyed pleasant dreams
amazingly, essentially, joyfully... restoring
balance between her yang and yin,
now looking forward when
morning hath broke kin
refreshing, rejuvenating, restoring...
idyllic as soundgarden qua Eden
adam mint to consign me to doghouse
pup tent, or dungeon where dragon
exuding assenting puff - toward daddy
regarding timely quick fix with min
hum mull effort, ah wish long been
cursed with penury, the bane didst ruin
ability to enjoy, life, liberty putin
on the ritz courtesy,
how money woes dost underpin
psychological mental distress
challenged time and agin
plucky stalwartness unable to vanquish
ill fated circumstances on par with Pekin
quacker – attempts in vain to duck,
or thwart invisible javelin
bed lamb for ewe know who.
I have the rhythm of a winding road
how do I consign myself to being confined...
rows of poplar pillars prop
rendezvous canopies beneath we meet
—I self-cajole on ooh-la-la afternoon
yellow eyes; daffodils watching
lean into gossip groups nodding
a prodding breeze instigating deep-freeze—
I am a sweet weed in this place of sway and betray
with a stranger I stroll my arranged betrothed
height of his black top hat challenges trees
much like Corinthian columns
guards of an aisle I must walk —dear God! must walk
trepidation trips down my bridal spinal column
tiger eyes; lilies watching wish they were me
dare they dream they could uproot their roots like me
wish they could wedding waltz like I must —like I must
but their envy-leaves remain embrace-less
—I secretly envy lilies’ arms empty of yet unmet love
daffodils; empty-headed —laugh
they try to read my mind to fill their own
what do I care of their curdled thoughts lemon tart
and orange lilies’ with their brocade brimstone
what do I fear of fire-breathers burn of words
undergrowth feels the square heels of my lace-up boots
post impression grows more expressive than first—
beware French tongues of sundew and burdock burr
marriage-carriage rolls in ruts to Versailles
where my coerced corset of hooks and ties lie
rhythm of a winding road dies in minuet strangle-hold
DEVINE PARENTAGE:
Praise be unto JEHOVAH!
The GOD who has no rootage,
And no one knows his lineage.
His holiness is basically not a heritage,
And His divinity spiritually holds a mileage,
Which is affirmed with a homage.
Praise be unto JEHOVAH!
The GOD who is a perpetual Mother...
A good Mother full of honour,
Whose breastmilk carries power,
Nourishing Her offsprings with brainpower.
Her eternal nurturing for them is without a cessation.
Her intellectuality is with perfection.
Her heart beats with compassion,
Forgiving them of their transgressions.
And saving them from destructions.
Praise be unto JEHOVAH!
The GOD who is an everlasting father...
A Father who really loves his children.
His heart is a fine accommodation,
Providing them food and protection.
He advices and motivates them with affection,
Making His fatherhood based on confection,
So that He chooses no to consign.
And in Him do the children confine,
As He makes their life so fine.
Yes,JEHOVAH is a Mother...,
Yes,JEHOVAH is a Father...,
His parenthood overwhelms.
And He rules in all realms,
Because,the universe dwells in his hands.
And with His rulership,no one can withstand.
Men venture into actions and adventures bold
To amass wealth and keep treasures in their hold
Claim them as their own for a little while
Not knowing the cruel fate waits hostile.
Sand castles built will topple down
Kingdoms conquered will eventually drown
Their fall will cause resounding echoes in our ears
Unmindful, we move on reckless in top gears.
Trophies and laurels which are eagerly chased
Will be taken away and in other hands placed
Footprints will be washed away by apathetic waves
All we claim as ours will be looted by Time’s thieves.
Even the mighty oak will fall and rot one day
The giggling stream may dry up on its way
The victor’s sword or the gem studded crown
Will be covered in rust or dust with none to own.
Once gone, for us, no heart will throb
Not a single soul will be there to sing, sigh or sob
Leaving the dead to rot in the closure of the vault,
To life’s alluring charms, the dear ones depart.
Cold as ice, the dead will lie inert and still
Feasted on by maggots, rotting in the icy chill
Life and all its vain glory, will be defunct
And all mad fever and frivolous fret- extinct.
The power and position, deemed great
Shall come to naught in the gloomy vault
Yet we run and yet we straggle behind
Trusting in our power and prowess blind.
Lord, teach us not to run after illusory charms
Give wisdom to tame greed that harms,
For, all that men rapaciously hold and trust,
‘Must consign to death and come to dust’
The gods must be crazy to create such bad logic,
To validate suffering, pain and distress, they tick,
To allow their existence, ‘cos that’s what logic’s for,
Logic defines the systems and structures which soar.
They must be mad to claim bad weather, all year,
Intervention only points to their responsibility here,
Natural phenomena stands proud with autonomy,
In independence they have expression in taxonomy.
And those car accidents! Ah, how folks claim them,
As god’s doing, for the victim’s edification, ahem;
Joni Eareckson Tada thinks her diving accident divine,
And happened for a godly reason, for her to consign!
Christians are sour to equate a healthy man with god,
Rather than a woman who’s disabled and LBQT, odd,
Because worship should elevate up only when it should,
As it offsets a prejudice, imbalance or personality mood.
Or even a coloured person as god would be far better,
Than a white male that so permeates art and literature,
‘Cos the subliminal has such a strong, pervasive effect,
That some gods today should be dismissed as a defect.
Just on Friday there, at the end of the week in regality,
The Scottish Tories met to discuss, market and aim,
And state their policies for future elections in modernity,
Claiming to be progressive and considerate by name.
Their leader said that if they do not beat Scottish Labour,
In the next election, then she will be beat, but won’t resign,
Because she has gumption, intelligence and much ardour,
A vocabulary with a spark that ignites milk, you may consign.
Ruth Davidson studied at Edinburgh and Glasgow universities,
And was successfully elected onto the Glasgow regional list,
She became the Scottish Tory Leader in 2011, no adversities,
And is hot for judges, small business and faith schools’ cyst.
Joe Biden now rules our White House
Together with his 'doctor' spouse.
His blunders, for sure-
We have to endure;
To caring, he does not espouse.
Those mishaps, like names he misspoke-
For sure, were not meant as a joke.
But much worse by far
His failures that scar-
Appeasing the will of the woke'!
Day-one, he shut down the pipeline-
made our oil production decline.
Gas prices- despise!
While heating bills rise!
We now must import and consign!
Appalling- how he shut that door
To exit the long Afghan war!
Left our troops behind-
Their rescue declined
In spite of their sacrifice bore!
Our vast Southern border, exposed-
All previous rules- he opposed.
He let millions in
And, to our chagrin-
Come outlaws and drugs- unopposed!
Bad crimes multiply by the day;
The victims now feel cast away.
With no fines or bail,
Or time spent in jail-
No need that bad guys must obey!
Inflation's gone way off the chart;
We dread the time spent at the mart.
Less food we now choose
For his brainless ruse-
Just printing out money's not smart!
And, last but not least, Hunter's life!
This son and his dad cause us strife.
With Chinese, each deals-
While 'The Big Guy' steals;
Through quid pro quo- they become rife!
Our media hypes left-wing views-
So, therefore, presenting fake news;
When really, they should
Show bad with the good;
Lay out all the facts to peruse!
November 25, 2022
Contest: The Bidens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco