Long Contemporary Poems
Long Contemporary Poems. Below are the most popular long Contemporary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contemporary poems by poem length and keyword.
In the 1700s,
Western hemisphere,
"Democracy"
was an ancient Greek legend
of wildly rabid forums,
with mixed philosophical reviews
as to its realistic merit
for effective governance.
Uniting Republican States,
especially those less industrially endowed,
those more slave labor force enriched,
more Southern ecopolitical patriarchs
required a Bible
more than democratic theory
to establish retributively justified white male supremacy,
Social segregation,
economic apartheid
between persons become property
and Caucasian male properties
become 100% empowered democratic persons
while yet fully blessed
with God's evangelical grace,
prosperity,
well-being,
enlightenment,
Darkly shadowed
by egocentric
anthro-divinely supreme
endarkenment.
Within this newly revolutionary chrysalis,
democratic philosophy
of patriarchal retributive justice
was reborn,
as best it could
without more contemporary
restorative healing justice
and multicultural peace experience,
Open dialogical reflection,
whole inclusive EarthSystem contemplation
of what could it mean
to sacredly and secularly anticipate
cooperative energy democracy
at an ecopolitically global
and local
humane property scale
of graced compassion.
Awesomely sweet is God’s Word* to my soul
Benefiting beyond Milky Way’s role
Curbing cravings for Charleston Chew pleasure
Delightful dainty more than Dove for sure
Enriched with wisdom, not of Smarties load
Fortified to triumph along Rocky Road.
Glazed by divine savor above Pay Day’s
Heavenly taste of Lifesavers with grace
Irresistible midst Heath’s rich flavor
Joy-source from holiness’ Spree and favor
Kindling activeness more than Kit Kat’s might
Lifting spirit is God’s precept-insight!
Mouthwatering Mounds can’t surpass Scriptures
Nourishing Now and Later faith-ventures
Over limitless Take 5 service grants
Pleasant, devoid of Starburst sour rants
Quelling stress much better than Skittles
Relishing prayer times midst Nerds-rattles!
Satiating trust-appetite’s fervency
Thrilling not just tongue as does Galaxy
Unmatched are the Lord’s statutes-nourishment
Value-filled, it exceeds Skor’s fulfillment…
Well-coated with Zero sin-calories
X-raying heart midst Snicker victories
Yonder Mr. Good Bar’s yummy cheerfulness
Zooming beyond 100 Grand preciousness!
(Abecedarian and Couplet forms)
*Psalm 119:103 How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!
Indeed, the Word of God is absolutely sweeter than all those delightful sweets - candies and chocolates- combined (Psalm 119:103). The Lord be thanked, praised, and glorified for making His Word available for our salvation, spiritual growth, sanctification, and service-steadfastness!
October 3, 2018
1st place, "How Sweet It Is" Premier Contest
Sponsored by Carol Connell; judged on 10/16/2018.
This is featured in the book, PS: It's Poetry: An anthology of contemporary poetry from around the world. Paperback – November 27, 2020 by Arczis (Author), PoetrySoup (Author)
It was a fine mid noonday
The wind grasps itself against the heat
Finding its way toward destiny
Like a man finding his own way
Success and failures are **** hoes
Trading, its guise from one to another
By transposing throughout the generation
Like a man lost in his lust
In the same way, you are in search of purpose
That or that? Yeah!
It's both This and That
Like the way you lament deep days and dark nights
And you are in search of the past to see the present
But the present is perched next to you
With a fine bestowed gift
Like Samson longed for his love
In the end, only you know,
That Purpose lies in the present,
It might be how you present the contemporary
Like an ant finding its way on time
You say time reveals everything
But it conceals only the past
Nothing more or nothing less
It's all about the magic you witness every day.
My typewriter
was not a good typewriter,
its keys were weighty,
you had to use brain muscle to work it,
nobody wanted it.
My son unpacked a home computer.
I stood by and watched
as all the electronics were laid out on the floor
and surgically knitted together.
I knew then
that I would be consistently out of touch,
and possibly would remain
stuck in an obsolete year
trying to catch up
from the rear of the field.
I wrote my first poem
on that clickity-clack manual machine,
then a dozen more,
all of them were heavy handed,
yet that hefty labor
made me think
I was crafting something worthwhile.
Later, I was enslaved to a computer keyboard,
chained as I was to its subsonic urgings
I could tell
the world was speeding away
faster than I could write.
When my kind of poet dies,
he is immediately ed,
for all his contemporary poems
turn into digital wormholes
that suck him into an unknown grave.
The young look to dead poets for wisdom -
truth is,
that those ham-fisted plodders
have long ago
turned into chunky typewriters
that nobody wants.
Most of it shows a repine,
Pictured grandma's ring,
He thought I was stuck to resign,
Travelling around,grandpa was holding a sling,
No one sought to give him an attentive help,
Dated it in a document,
Treasures dug from hard work,
He made a tremendous trek,
Saviour of dead legacy,
He was the changer of bad delicacy,
Established classical and contemporary scholars,
His diadem was from pure emerald,
Hearts of outsiders were filled with equity,
But science took his foreknowledge,
Believing not in nativity,
His years were rebel age,
Making it possible to open a new page,
Everybody feared to warn him,
Perhaps it was his spiritual cream,
When I convinced an heathen,
There was a family healing,
Life no more dormant,
Human figures neither vacant,
Now every wall is strong.
Hand surgeon, aptly named Charlie
Had a habit most folk view bizarrely
Each day before patients lay on his table
He sniffed a line or two which made him able
To slice and dice, hyped up head felt cathartic
Injuries presented, varied and complex
Imbibed biological Bibles, known reflex
Mere matchstick puzzle, bones twenty seven
Mirror met snow snakes, elongated elevens
Intensified his focus on anethesised subjects
Doc performs ops. at astounding rates
Each one completed, eager Charlie takes
Another line, consumed with smoothest relish
Ability to tinker successfully, truly embellished
Speed increase propels the money he makes!
High as Heaven Charlie felt himself a professor
Straight surgery defunct, fine skills suppressor
To rip skin open and zip through job, elating
Benefits of blow for bone shifts, no debating
Need to nourish nostrils with coke, incessant
11th September 2020
Of course, this phenomena is common in many industries,
including surgery. Not sure if in contemporary time,
surgeons are drug tested, but I doubt they are.
- Have been told first hand by a surgeon that it's
regularly practiced to hone their performance.
- Unfortunately, patients are not audiences
being performed to!!
- Perhaps the general public has faith in their
white collar workers, to avoid overuse.
Walking through the contemporary gallery of poems as theme,
where images are painted by the soul with words in a frame.
The calming thoughts like woven sound of streams,
the innermost sense in philosophical conduct it seems.
Pictures and images expressing those radical hues,
suspended emotion and feelings have the double base of blues.
Awareness and truth with a cosmopolitan illustration,
liberties with articulated hopes in divine presentation.
The Gallery has many rooms and halls with high ceiling,
making every painting of thought in great light revealing.
Confessions from the intimate act of rhyming inspiration,
sensing the purity of mental virtue by aspiration.
My heart in love by simple words and joyous state ,
sensing at times the texture of many hymns of fate.
Quivering phrases with subtle expressions so bare,
loving touches by sensuous melodic lyrics so fare.
Time solved into distant valleys from where I stand,
spreading on empty scenes turning vacant.
The all embracing mysteries of human love intertwined,
taken the realms of dreams vividly contained.
The poetic soul in celestial consequence,
taken the magic hour of twilight as reference.
The firmament in burning spirit of faith,
giving imagination another world, which cannot wait.
Holding on to that wondering awe of that exhibition,
for other times by picture memories with refined condition.
The spirit through many lives and frames more attuned,
echoes from the multiverse of creative visions bloomed.
VISIBILITY
dreamy scenarios
refined
impossible narratives
a willingness
to explore
beyond
abstraction
& particularities
experience
the contemporary
sustained
&intertwined
in
significant moments
with
confidence
an indefinite
proclamation in
varying degree
of
channels
feature
separately
fitted
together
a changed
encounter
& explore
these
translated dreams
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
She wakens to the most ungodly ring tone-
her husband's cell phone left there by her bed.
And next, her damn alarm clock's blare is fed
by noise of the neighbor’s lawn mower’s drone.
At work, suppressing groans, she is a clone
who answers e-mails, and with silent dread,
takes clients' calls. Guff fills her pounding head;
again and then again that ringing phone!
Then finally she’s home. Ahhhh. . . . time to dine -
except the children cannot break away
from Face book - and the oldest starts to whine.
Her hungry spouse then walks into the fray.
Amidst it all, as if to underline
her plight, that neighbor’s dog begins to bay!
For Cyndi MacMillan's
TIMELESS YET CONTEMPORARY, A SONNET THANG
Shards of shimmering and redolent recollection, of images memories and distant life actions. Long since transpired, and now nothing holds my hand, yet thoughts still swarm my mind and sway my intentions today! overlaid reflections of former events flicker, as my desires and perceived values now play their scenes to a heatless aurora of irrelevance's, halogenic in flames and spouts of unresponsiveness, unyielding mediocrity now is coupled with both the current and contemporary, we are so bereft of creativity in the veins of social life, while in the public arteries flows the stuff of nightmare and mass animosity...
Copyright Joe Maverick 2011