Long Consortium Poems
Long Consortium Poems. Below are the most popular long Consortium by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consortium poems by poem length and keyword.
Heavy shootings and more,
Primitive lead Automatics and their ancient songs, Contemporary Lasers and
these sights of your futuristic DNA-CONTACT-ELIMATOR and more,
Please lets speak to Rome....The very place the revolution will erupt,
Where in this filthy universe will earth's volcanoes gather to Feast and Campaign,
Solitary Military base stations...oh! My lord do take my mind off all these waste,
destruction and sacrificial human flowing blooooo...
The world has gone Deaf and Numbly cold...Alas! All of a sudden she belches a
deep belch,
She has becomes so sweet,warm and cuddly,
My fists have clinged this tight to my wise Quail,
Do Imagine a situation where quails deactivate your high profile bombs like
knockouts or popped chewing gums,
The purge...Our upsurge neither your salient Beards nor Your aged eyes will
hear nor witness such Grave Wars, Disasters,Hate,Destruction,Madness
and....such truthful Bliss...
On later Stages..Pulpits..Podiums and on your fiery Pages shall we uncover the
mystery of those unborn generations who will see tears as flowing blood,
Salute my Napoleone,your Hitler and many kisses to adore this Satanic cool
YANSH,
We the 'Kings of Rome' have seen our impending Doom,
Tell us Now Great Sir...What next steps shall we take,
What shall be done to a-tone for the World's excess iniquities and more,
Maybe a consortium of like minds writing to drive away looming angry clouds,
Still... must there be jacob's troules?
Tell my Grandmothers that we will never take them too far away from their
brooms and Quilts,
Granddads must all cherish those moments Smoking pipes,
In a way, Tommorrow's mind must drift,
Goats must learn to eat minced meat and Salts,
Tell Gretel I love Smoked Salmon along with the freshness of Coconut liqueror
and plumes,
In those Fiery steaming Jungles of tommorrow did i see Marijuana prepared like
Stewed Chicken soups along with a glass of Strong Shepe,
Marijuana broths eaten along with one chicken,Two Mice and a Happy Bowl of
spiced Coconut Rice,
My waists are heavy with Dance..do come lets Prance! to those days of Perfect
Bliss,
Perfect Bliss...Salient Peace after..and only after the Coming of that Revolutionary
Purge.
The night air with owls cry invitation of canopies of writers to write the
Days using the night pen jolting candle to the candidates aspiring to arson
night. The pans and pots exchanging strong actions to the curve of the sea
like seasonal belt.
I preferred to belt ideas to conclude the departure of imagination under
the wilderness wings of the soup, the night, where I power my thinking to
pink rose. I raid it to trade the sound of night that of my belonging, the
defame of fact to fiction looking strive to live under my enterprise.
I cajoled the swirl wind from the sea pointing to talon meek of jealousy
collided to collaboration the admiral salute me to the situation under the
control of my country where I encountered Taibatou, the couple of days
dash around the bush to the calabash of my thinking, it never too late to
buy the truth with bullets of fact. Shining light to the shift of action
to accost stirring on street with string of peculiar explanations shivering
mind.
Divining day wake with action sealed of blue cap contemplates the
Inflections of words to describe the caravan of chagrin mammals with tiny
ribs socket of sox seceded to sue the merchants of rogue. Daffodils color
purple with flowers morning millet of null to answers. The breads sandal in
my throat which I have to draw it with cup of tea to make the belly
Assault the pang of hunger and thirsty like tricycles moving from left to
right without clear definition.
The sound of broom from unwilling woman woke the master to dance to the
music, the imagination of life sings lullaby the stars smile like sinister
expecting spouse running on the door to dull the light. The coat of
Fabricated joke tore the night blowing scent, scene of stage amphitheater
Like Luke of contort fact to consortium benefit.
Why I have to wander the days sleep in the night wake up from the dream of
success flagship my empty heart drink August to clinch thirst. I sweep the
night to defuse tension that has been marrying me for Century of sentiment
mad of violence concrete of concerts connect direct to the desire night
cold as ice loud as bomb difficult as flying in the air without wings.
*"A tribute to "Pops" (Joe), (04/23/31-01/20/24) though what pans below mirrored life in the States for me, not Pops, but for two years at The Home before he passed, I'd drank tea cause he's unable to have strong or spicy etc. Once a month, though the last few months I drank alone. It was something that he shared, for you Pops." ... by Poet
'Twas a relatively crispiness in the clambering yawn,
a consortium of sorts setting up right across the lawn,
as duskiness drew up her covers relinquishing the day,
embossed intricately recently polished grace silver tray,
atop bears a quaint setting of Old Country Royal Alberts,
ah, yes, tea cups, dually statured and ushering desserts,
if you would please pour just a cup for me, for as you can see,
my 'friend's asleep at the wheel, engine's off, eve doesn't agree,
a host to vividness terms of circumstance circulated,
guesswork nature that entertains the uncoordinated,
the fumbling hands placed to the left or right be it a catchphrase,
a righteous smile of approval amicably gifts it weighs,
astir Pekoe, instants an intrusive bay fronts pleasantries,
prompts us of our intimacy adds value to home's sea breeze,
a nose full of redolent tea defines memories of us,
of times he drove us to school, then to doctors, still drives the bus,
a nodding gesture non flirtatious enthusiasm rises,
occasions an exceeding specialized intrigue comprises,
be a tea for two, Broadway Avenue, a smothered venue,
food cart with mixed tarts, lined signs of sweet kinds, beseeches of you,
I and my friend, who sleeps now and then, had two cups of Pekoe,
tea for my friend, it's not Pekoe, health-bot boy, it's Almond Joy,
'tis a pleasure, airs like a loon, trends sans measure, depth crescent moon,
he won't mind, he's sleeping--are you sure, yes, we're having friends soon,
they're here, ambulance? send them here--no rush, their skills aren't needed.
He felt his life poor--driving, "Pops, we made it--you succeeded."
A wandering soul lost in her own fantasies
Not interested in cruel world of enmity
In search of her own sunshine
Against the unfair realities...
Neither afraid nor pressurised
Belongs to a unique women's tribe
An example of living on her own terms
Nothing's bad living this way, So she doesn't hide...
All she wants is to fly alone in lieu of succession
In search of her own heaven made up of compassion
She keeps trying to get away & away
But everytime a cluster of chains hinder her with lock of seven...
Yeah, she screamed for support in a crowd
But people were deafening in proud
She chose her eclipsed emotions over her shiny skin
She's no longer a slave now reflecting shrouds...
Sinners wanted her to be a sinner
Accused her for being a distinctive figure
Everytime she was shaken by the pain
She did her best to be the winner...
Call her destructive, call her drowned
Why should she smile fake & be the clown
She denied to be what consortium tried to make her
Left alone in the cage of pessimism all around...
Since ages the sun adumbrate
And observers contemplate
Luner eclipse makes the night murk
She throws back what she inculcate...
Feelings are always dynamic & fair
Changing in consonance with the state of affairs
Is she the only one who's facing unnecessary criticism
She asks how much agony is left in her share...
Wounded lioness tried to control her rage & anger
She can't rest in and around the danger
Wished & hoped for some peace & harmony
But got betrayals in return of keeping a heart bigger...
All she's learnt from the selfish universe
Just to be herself is on her nerves
Smash all the barriers of your way
Hold, pull & ride your cart cheerily on the curves...
Escaping from all negativity & fake people
That lass took flights like an eagle
Sharpened eyes like a kite
None dare to stop her while she scrambles...
The upshot was awaking in front of her sight
Impeccably avail all the potency & might
Looking ahead of her reverie
The colleen proved herself to be the right...
Written by-
Rashmi Kaushik
LEGAL ROMANCE
Law,
Let me plague you
With the infectious love of my heart.
Now that I bear the aftermath of your infections,
And your cold blood boils in me
Like a volcanic eruption,
Let me make babies in the factory of your womb.
My amorous cuddlesome arms
That carry a legal contagion with them,
Let them rip you apart in the angiospermy of my farms
Till every cell in me carries the logo of your emblem
And the semblance of your physiognomy.
Law my love,
Let me be your troubadour,
And I will traverse all the corners of your contours.
With my fluorescent searchlights,
That can seek out all the unexplored
Juicy regions of your legions,
Let me be your spouse or your civil partner
Or at least your intimate cohabitant.
Allow me a minute into the gate of your thighs
And I will dig you damn deep,
Till I plant legal seeds in your flowery uteri,
And we shall fill the entire universe with prodigies
Greater than the Denning’s
Mightier than the Atkin’s
Weightier than the Uwais’s
And more Solomonic than the Tobi’s.
Law my love,
Your untainted mammary prowess
That dangles like a pendulum in their tabula rasa state,
Let it be the sole source of my resource
That waters my thirsty fountain.
Consort with me, and I will consult with you,
And let our royal consortium
Breed in me Lilliputians strong enough to gut Gulliver.
I love you, Law my love
And I doubt if there can be a better lover.
I love your Calliopsis hair
I love your Helen lids and lashes
I love your Cleopatra eyes
I love your Bathsheba nose
I love your Aphrodite lips
And I love the curviness of your womanness.
Law my love,
Let me sing to you a serenade sweeter than Senghor’s,
For you are my day, my night and my Naett.
And let me enjoy the irrevocability of being—
Your stare decisis
Your res ipsa loquitur
Your res judicata
And your issue estoppel.
-Bolaji Ramos, Esq.
copyright 2017
Themed based
takes the place
of sponsorship strategies
a consortium of things
that angles on the
possibilities
Wrong choices
selfish motives
and disobedience
are key points to began
instruction
each theme focuses on
person " Anyone"
who needs instruction
but does know
the right terminology to
illustrate what he or she needs
Thematism and Sponsorage
teaches terminology with
word usage and definitions
to separate
the confusion
of spoken words
in play or in day to day
communication.
We will take time
to find each genre were each
term is usaed and
define it's purpose.
Using the right word in
the right pretext
illustrates one's professionalism.
Incontext studies
will separate each term to use
words in the jargon and field
where it is surpassed to be.
For example Prise Mandel
is smart. But a person on his job
doesn't like him.
Instead of auguring with him
or fighting him
he uses his position as manger
to get Brice into trouble.
He put's Brice in charge of
management while he is on vacation.
He tells Brice that he is to
reopen the restaurant after hours
and asks Brice to
clean the grills and stoves before
inspection.
He tell Brice to write
the chore list under
the title " duty of the Flurrers".
Flurrer is a **** term. When
the District manager came
to review the books she see's
Brices entry in the Chore Ledger
under Duties of the Furriers:
and she instantly fires Brice for
being unprofessional. Brice has
now been seen as a joker, someone
unprofessional. And he doesn't
ed and worked
to achieve.
Like A Dream..
Like the days in The Cradle..
Like the tale of Samson's Riddle..
In The Wake of your Fiddle..
Our Waists In Consortium..Like Beaded
Eroticas Wiggling..
Like A Dream..
Our Stroll Hand-In-Hand By The Beach..
Like Heights We have Reached..
Like The Sweetness Of Depths Unsearched..
Like This Pen I Screech..
Like Those Verses Of Wisdom We Thus
Preached..
Like A Dream..
Like The Wisdom Of Great King Solomon We
asked the Father For, In Tones that
"Beseech"..
With His Divine Wisdom and Grace We
Revolutionized Souls That Once Thought and
Acted As Leeches..
The Weight and Comeliness Of These Lines you
Call Speeches..
Like A Dream..
Like God's Kiss On Our ForeHead..
Like His Comforting Voice In Times Of Sorrow
and Distress..
Like The Outpour Of His Salient Breathe On
Our Humble Souls..that Guided Us to The
Crest,
Like A Dream..Hardwork and Its Little
Stress..
Like A Dream..In Luxury Prepare to Take Thy
Rest..
To Listen To The Voices Of My Childrens'
Playful Shouts and Screams..To Dance This
Dreamy Waltz What Shall It Take..To Show Our
Gratitude To The Almighty Please Tell Us
'What Shall We Shake'..
Like A Dream..
Like The Flavour Of These Rhymes..
Like The Heart-Felt Savour Of These Cleverly Structured Lines..
The Happy Ardour Of Such Salient Chimes..
Thus Read..What Joy We Thus Feel In It We Sublime..
Sweet Rhymes Thus Played On Musical Strings Of Time..How Happy..
Thus Life Is But A Dream..See Through.
Fantasy Library
Xanadu was embraced with philodendron,
Palace-like architecture, the plant went on,
and on, weaved its way around the corridor
Light luminated thru high ceilings of grandeur
As I entered the bookstore’s library atrium,
A quick lesson was gifted me on consortium
Books stacked in no discernable sequence,
encouraging readers, inviting intuitive, for instance
Systems Dewey and the congress classification,
outdated, I used the browse method simulation
Running my fingers across ridged book spines,
By published authors with classic story lines
Eyeballing velveteen varieties of book covers
Sneaking-peeks at blurbs for fantasy lovers
Sashayed my way to Banned and Challenged Books,
in the clutches of pop-up trendy chic-cozy nooks
Skimmed Ann Frank’s The Diary Of A Young Girl,
and turned satin gold-leaf edge pages of Rebecca,
gilded and burnished 24k, a gothic romance unfurled
Consortium—The new call # will begin with a 4-digit finder number. No more decimals, no more books on the same topic in several sections of the collection, or even the same title on two different places on the same shelf. Spine labels will use language of your choice and color coding. Browse your collection without having to search for a librarian
SOUL OF THE DESTITUTE
The soul bawls with the time
The soul bawls with the season
It's muteness comes from the countenance
It's enrage comes from the expression
The world is it's reason with no solution,
The solution we have gives us the problem
Where the Moses of the Israelites died with
The hope of seeing the promise land
The soul wail with the questions that;
Why did the good die quickly and easily,
While the nefarious last lengthy?
The affluent are the money maker whose,
Fountainhead is from the destitute.
My soul bawls with the time
My weak heart gets weaker with the clock of a,
New season with no vision;
With the splash from the opulent auto and hoping to
Have good sit with the potentate
Believing that time would come while the soul bawls
The ascent of the sun remind them of the further
Dispute with sorrow from there mind while,
The rich extol the supreme being for the luminous
Day with the hope to absorb corruption in the
Consortium.
Joy has no locus to lodge in the heart of the,
Penniless with the bawl of the soul
It journeys down to the opulent heart but,
Not welcomed with remorseful act of
Partaking in vices.
Who will JOY live with?
SOUL OF THE DESTITUTE
The soul bawls with the time
The soul bawls with the season
It's muteness comes from the countenance
It's enrage comes from the expression
The world is it's reason with no solution,
The solution we have gives us the problem
Where the Moses of the Israelites died with
The hope of seeing the promise land
The soul wail with the questions that;
Why did the good die quickly and easily,
While the nefarious last lengthy?
The affluent are the money maker whose,
Fountainhead is from the destitute.
My soul bawls with the time
My weak heart gets weaker with the clock of a,
New season with no vision;
With the splash from the opulent auto and hoping to
Have good sit with the potentate
Believing that time would come while the soul bawls
The ascent of the sun remind them of the further
Dispute with sorrow from there mind while,
The rich extol the supreme being for the luminous
Day with the hope to absorb corruption in the
Consortium.
Joy has no locus to lodge in the heart of the,
Penniless with the bawl of the soul
It journeys down to the opulent heart but,
Not welcomed with remorseful act of
Partaking in vices.
Who will JOY live with?