Long Consorts Poems
Long Consorts Poems. Below are the most popular long Consorts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consorts poems by poem length and keyword.
By a mysterious twinkle in an all perceiving eye
A form energetic gentle breathing
The grand consummation of design
Ignited by universal dreaming
Enchanted stars into their life giving
The dance conceptual
The ballet between
Principals masculine and feminine
These consorts of the living
Entwined into harmony
To write themselves on creations symphony
Express the form of universal diversity
A sun rising over mountains earth
Forest beneath a conclave of animals
The still waters first expectant rush
Sounds the cosmos fulcrum of birth
There formed the human footprint of infinite sand
Perceptions eternal touch
The spell of ages awakened
And one born into many physical forms
One into many
And as a thread now dangles loose
Disconnected from purpose of cause
Wanders a sea tumultuous
No belief in compass direction lost
Clamoring rudderless the thousand names of God
Pleading a million prayers to suffering must
A walk to the end of identity
This now scattered life of dust
Still searching the obvious for the sacred
Concocting explanations of conscious
Nit picking the tassels of paradises expected faults
The miracles of nothing more than dirt
So fallen to nightmare century
The enemy human devours humanity
And by oath swears itself
Be born of unknown divinity
In thousands generation of quintessence spark
A futures riddle plays diffident mark
But to confound the constant
And miss the perfect impulse of life
The willing blindness brings to darkness
All the blessings of light
Impetuous resolution of a fickle noose
To its own slavery has brought us
From spirits truth distracted
By bubble gum boredom infected
And to the cohorts of fear
Became so entrusted
What but death scares the child
Who alone in innocence could revive
These dull collective eyes
To the promised garden of eternal love
Enchanted stars kissed into their life giving
The dance between conceptual
The ballet of a circle
Feminine and masculine principals
Purpose and cause perfect the impulse of life
To be absent the miraculous
Such would be a true cause for concern
One born into multitudinous of form
Little Lord Cat-la-Roy was given a day at the queen’s famous court.
He took a bottle of his daddy’s finest wine, blood red like port.
Left it with the sentinel who assured him he’d give it to the queen.
He saw him share it with the jester, which was truly kind of mean.
Lord Cat-la-Roy was dressed in his family’s finery, pretty robe and vest.
With ruffled blouse, and silken tapestry, they showed his eyes the best.
Eyes were his best feature, a dazzling, gorgeous emerald color.
Faded every tomcat at court, flirted at by two sisters and their mother.
He had the marvelous majestic markings of a tomcat fine and dandy.
Wearing all of grandmother’s jewelry, everything that she had handy.
Looked princely, someone wealthier than any other in the room.
No one suspected he was Cinder-Tom, treated like his brothers’ groom.
Made his escape that very day with the help of Godfather Fairy Cat.
He wanted a place at court, he was not thinking anything beyond that.
Tired of his brothers making him do all the work around their farm.
He figured to lie a little bit could do him absolutely no real harm.
The queen’s daughter took a shine to him and made her way to dance.
Thought she was rather silly, and the gyrations dumb too, like a prance.
He smelled fresh mouse, and this was the beginning of the end of him.
He gave chase right then, and swallowed the rat in front of all of them.
Princess was disgusted, she walked off in a huff before he could share.
But the Mother cat and her daughters took him home to their soft lair.
He is now living the life of luxury in the palace of the queen of the land.
For his benefactors are the king’s consorts with wine, food, and a band.
I walk my life, a subway station
Where dirt consorts
The air around.
It pounds my nape,
It flames my mind
With sights and fates
And sounds.
Above, a tram goes up the alley
Tinged with canary hue.
Below, my wit:
What void, what valley:
It sank, in Tagus mused.
I take a seat, doors screech behind.
O, what wondrous whiffs?
Of metal beams
Attriting loudly
Against metal wheels?
To a halt it cuts my chain of thought,
Rivals my dream, they brawl.
'Tis from the gallery
Of broken hope
The beggar man crawls.
Intemperate horns his entry announce,
Dysphoric scenes aground.
He comes detuned
Near clears his throat,
Lethargic voice resounds:
I beat my cane
In wrongful rhythm,
'Cause wrongful
Was my life.
My voice hurts from
All this singing:
'Twas morphed into
A sigh.
I longed, I longed
For all my sinning
Was ought to be repaid.
Deserved so much,
God took my
Will, my sight,
My love, my
Name.
So tell me, vagrant,
What did He take?
-Said I-
Who has loved you?
What is your will,
What name did you go by?
I used to be a man of soul
Whose heart beat strong and dign,
I used to write
And then I died
On the 10th before July.
He took my coins for all my service
At wars:
At land
At sea
-The waves still have her,
Laying there still,
Waiting away from me!-
Said he-
I will my love,
My fire, passion
-My young Natercia!-
Most darling of all nymphaea!
So God is just after all,
Replacing sin with grief.
No need for me
To pay the man:
God has done the deed.
The deadbeat coins of his cup
Turmoil ever so slightly.
I leave my dream,
Doors shrill again:
'Tis time to end my journey.
To all black cats, please listen keen!
Do fight the urge to see, be seen.
Tonight, avoid all humans mean.
My dears: Stay in on Halloween!
Resist the call to go outside!
Best inside your house to hide!
Resist the siren call of night,
And ponder on the firelight.
Sit by the hearth and warm your toes,
Whilst evil comes and evil goes.
Resist temptation on this night.
Avoid a dark, nightmarish fright!
Your human knows to keep you safe,
Against her will, please do not chafe!
Curl up beside her, let her know,
There’s no place else you’d rather go!
And while she strokes your raven mane,
Please calm your wild and keep your sane.
For danger lurks on such a night,
From humans who are human blight,
Who must do wrong, and ne’er do right.
And search for victims till the light--
Black cats they seek, and not the white!
For they believe the ancient tales
Of witches and their potent ales,
Of feline consorts, black as coal,
Whose green eyes mask an evil soul.
And even in these modern times,
Those gothic bells of fear still chime.
Those ancient fools of superstition
Tell modern ghouls: Fulfill your mission!
And what if you are all alone?
My dear black cat, and have no home?
Are homeless night and homeless day,
No bowls for you, you hunt your prey.
And pray you find a home someday.
Dry bags and garbage for your bed,
Each night to rest your weary head.
You too must hide and seek the safe--
Oh, heed my plea, dear feline waif!
To all beloved felines black,
Stay safe this night
And watch your back!
For Halloween will soon be o’er,
And you are safe for one year more!
Hymn to the Three Consorts of Allah
O El-Lat, radiant in the moon’s gentle glow,
Your silver beams illuminate the night,
Guide lovers with your tender, soothing light,
In your embrace, true affections grow.
Guardian of secret trysts beneath the stars,
You witness vows whispered in the dark,
With every kiss, you leave a spark,
Blessing those who dare to love who they are.
Chorus:
Three goddesses, we honor your grace,
In your divine light, our hearts find their place,
El-Lat, El-Uzza, and Manat, so dear,
In your sacred presence, love is clear.
El-Uzza, harbinger of laughter and delight,
With you, love’s journey is ever bright,
Your joy unites hearts with endless might,
In your presence, every soul takes flight.
You dance through fields where flowers bloom,
A symbol of love’s eternal spring,
In your name, joyous anthems sing,
For in your love, there is no room for gloom.
Chorus:
Three goddesses, we honor your grace,
In your divine light, our hearts find their place,
El-Lat, El-Uzza, and Manat, so dear,
In your sacred presence, love is clear.
Manat, a fierce protector of the true,
With strength, you guide us through,
Your light illuminates a dark path anew,
Empowering life to blossom in view.
No fear can stand where your love reigns,
With you, we break all binding chains,
Your spirit Allah's passion rains,
In your honor, love’s freedom gains.
Chorus:
Three goddesses, we honor your grace,
In your divine light, our hearts find their place,
El-Lat, El-Uzza, and Manat, so dear,
In your sacred presence, love is clear.
Keep life simple and supple
When aside from your dimples you brush conundrum
For joys to triple or quadruple
To the beat at the feet of laughter’s drum
Whose percussion glorifies and ratifies
Happiness in all her splendor and majesty
As happiness against odds defies
The travesty of dishonesty in the sacristy that begs for the amnesty
Dishonesty doesn’t deserve in its swerve
To bend the truth
To cheat simpletons on the Internet to serve
Purposes uncouth
To extents where ribald returns
Line up pockets of blood cash
As dishonesty spurns and burns
Chances to slash
Losses suffered in tenuous tricks
Perpetuated with malice aforethought
When dishonesty pricks and sticks
To the veneer whose thought
Untaught
Claws its way forward disgorging damage
With perpetrators brought
To a fatal end as they rummage
On Facebook
For lines of least resistance
Conmen think can brook
The nonsense in every sentence
They use as a hook
For cash promised on fake accounts with fake details
Soon spewed upon the spook
Conmen retail in their travails
As due diligence soon exposes
Tricks conmen employ
For the umpteenth time until a rose juxtaposes
Facts and figures conmen enjoy
Banding on the Internet
Fishing for opportunities
Conmen and their consorts can net
Ad infinitum from complacent cybernetic communities.
There's much to be said,
without diplomacy,
said the Queen
to her Bear
In favor of ancient
transparently royalist wisdom,
"Don't even look at me.
Either you got it,
or you didn't!"
Either you get it
or you don't
And I most certainly do!
rumbled Her Bear
in his Queen.
And yet,
said his Queen
to Her Bear,
who had hoped
for less chatter
I feel something
must also be said...
A proclamation!
of win/win consorts
and copassionate co-investments
and mutually satisfying...
CoInfestments!
erupted Her Bear
with his Queen,
co-empathically,
as it were
Proclaiming cooperative economics
of love
Her most Royal Peak Experiential HealthCare Cosmic Decree
Which even the ElderPriest found long-winded,
and too
" Peak experiences are my sacred territory,
not quite so RightBrain sensual
and LeftBrain systemic terrain,
my royal Sister."
To which the Queen
most regally replied,
as if She had not just been conversing
with a nearby salivating
Straight White Trucker,
"Not the way we do
peak and valley
cooperative
co-invested experiences!"
Unless you have Great White Father
wandering issues
with your patriarchal
capital-headed
Either Salvation/Or Demonization
bipolar vocation,
added Her Wondering LoverBear.
David can often be seen hot on the trail,
Of Richard Whitehead, sprinter, runner,
And was reported in Rio de Janero’s mail,
As the 200m bronze medalist, stunner.
He went to St George Catholic College,
Located in Southhampton, that busy port,
Attended Hertfordshire Uni on the page
Of mechanical engineering, to his purport.
But having joined the Army, made officer,
One day he stepped on a hidden IED,
So both his legs were amputated, better,
But he walked in no time, sports to see.
During his rehab at MOD Headley Court,
David found himself by sports enthused,
And got into swimming, basketball’s court,
Also sitting volleyball did find him amused.
After rehabilitation David did a Masters,
In biomedical engineering, at Imperial,
He inquired into an amputee’s masters -
Their prosthetics - he had opinions vocal.
At the Invictus Games he did many sports,
To win the gold in the 200 metres sprint,
And so made the 2015 IPC Euro consorts,
In Doha, Qatar, to bear the UK flag, flint.
The next year in 2016, Euros in Grosseto,
He was clipped to the line by Whitehead,
And so ran in Rio to entertain with gusto,
When he almost fell, but recovered dead.
In ancient cities and times,
kings, rulers and their often-faceless consorts,
were exalted in marble statuary,
yet
so much of those effigies
now remain headless.
Those bygone exalted figures
have lost their heads,
(or occasionally the odd arm).
I ask myself,
where did all their heads go?
Were they deemed to be sculptured flowers,
doomed to be dead headed like roses,
by stone-faced gardeners?
The beheaded, the headless,
litter history,
it makes me want to check my own neck,
to confirm my often weak-headed state.
Heads are easy targets,
you strike a light in the dark
then some petty tyrant takes offence
and poof,
there goes your head.
Genghis Khan played polo
with human heads.
If we were born
with a dotted line around our necks
we might put two and two together,
we might be better prepared,
for being booted around
like footballs.
If I had been clearly told
to always keep my head up my ass,
I might not have had this death wish,
to write weird poetry.
Just ahead down the road a way
Queen Anne rides her florid carriage
tossing lacy garments out the window
frilly-white landing by the roadside
The carriage of course is pulled by mares
clicking their hooves like they were some
courtesan's castanets and kicking their legs high,
like line-dancers kicking a French can-can
Apparently Anne and her consorts
wear quite a bit of lace to toss copiously
out of the gilded carriage window
laughing gayly as they peel off another
White-laced garter ringing down green ways
judging from the profusion
of sensuous roadside attractions
swaying my pleasures from side to side
I'm hoping to catch glimpses of the entourage
if I proceed before the runway without delay
toward the teased creamy-white notion of
a thrill frilled afternoon ride still flowering
© Goode Guy 2012-06-14
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daucus_carota
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:QueenAnnsLace.jpg