Long Context Poems
Long Context Poems. Below are the most popular long Context by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Context poems by poem length and keyword.
“Foaming at the mouth,” in this context is to be excited, passionate for.
Jeopardy is an American television game. There was a home version.
The answer was given in the form of a question.
LOVE LANGUAGE
Clickers sounding off like grasshoppers in the night.
Jeopardy -
foaming at the mouth
with questions.
I especially loved the vocabulary!
I was taking high school French.
Even if the word was another language, I’d give it a go -
yes, foaming at the mouth!
Today - give me Hebrew, Greek…
what a geek am I!
If only I’d dived outside the romantic
and had become a biblical scholar.
The word
“poem”
comes from the Greek,
and is found in the Bible
and has the meaning
of “something made,”
something made by God Himself,
as in a “new creation.”
Think of that!
I am a poem!
There once was a man called Ned
Who got it into his head
To fight the state
Which sealed his fate
And was hung until he was dead.
Fitzpatrick tried it on with Ned’s sister
Something I’d advise against mister
He came looking for strife
Was lucky to escape with his life
Thus began a story quite sinister.
For Ned at Stringybark Creek
The police did desperately seek
In all three police lay dead
Leaving a price on his head
The future for Ned would be assuredly bleak.
He rode the Wombat Ranges
Mindful of the dangers
With Steve, Joe and brother Dan
There was never a tougher man
Sheltered by family, friends and strangers.
Irish Catholic and poor
He fought against the law
With fists and with gun
And always on the run
An unjust system he did abhor.
The infamous Glenrowan shootout
Is something no doubt you’ve heard about
Wearing a suit of armour
Made of steel plates gotten from a farmer
By burning the inn they smoked Ned out.
Judged by Barry at the Melbourne court
It would seem context accounts for naught
For Ned the outcome couldn’t be worse
But he placed on Barry a prophetic curse
The end to Barry’s life Ned sought.
At the Old Melbourne gaol it all ended
When poor Ned’s neck was extended
He lost when fighting the law
But will never be forgotten by the poor
The right to live free he boldly defended.
TIMEFRAME
too much
too little
a precocious
settling of freshness
a rapid smattering
stillness
ere activity
so inventive
thrilling
in context
showcased
in efforts
alongside
looks us
in the eye
the gaze
is all
discerned
dressed
abstracts evoke
fluidity
is released
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
I'll follow you around the world...
I'll leap from shore to shore
and on the very day my life was done
I'll come to know you more...
but in what context do I sing?
How many here will know?
The seed of our contentment
now in our gardens grow.
We look out for great solutions
and there our troubles all begin
we stare out in consternation
without looking in...
to what we truly know
beyond the ego's feeble reign...
grasp what you can within this moment...
we've started 'round again...
I'll follow you around the world...
I'll leap from shore to shore
and on the very day my life was done
I'll come to know you more...
Sans Sixth (psychic) non Sense...
Posing As Dystopian Rant
This prognosticator doth predict
potential based at current rate
sinister debacle that will
instantaneously annihilate,
which alarming (ohm my dog) turbulent
endemic chaotic spate
within human race poised to strike
doom and generate
shock tummy once amp pull goldenlocks,
now revealing a shiny baldpate
erratic behavior attendant prescient
intimations presage apocalyptic fate
while current commander in chief
didst unwittingly generate,
and sow the seeds of anarchy sparking
global conflagration that will create
instantaneous prime evil
total mortal kombat, cuz "FAKE" mandate
issued, when Trump went ballistic
loose sing rockets red glare,
when pressing hot button to demonstrate
thermonuclear supremacy,
sans 3D printable bomb
(albeit a moot point),
would render superfluous need way to late
to draft intestate
last (or perchance first, second,
third...) will and testament, tete a tete
perhaps minuscule (nee
infinitesimal) ordnance out of date
turns out a Department of Defense dud
eh, no surprise as aye narrate
finding Don tremendously irate
(blaming "crooked Hillary," democrats,
spongebobsquarepants,...yours truly...)
the list goes on, thus no need to iterate,
thus a sudden religious fervor gripped
the wide webbed world
attributing why weapons did not actuate,
which found pontiff in high demand
in an attempt to accommodate
frenzied zeal attributing aborted blitzkrieg
to divine intervention with bajillion
talking heads airing where to dedicate
material trappings to indigent, great
full not dead, plus those petty
criminals rightly or wrongly,
the strong arm of
lanced law did incarcerate
bowed down on daily and nightly basis
exploding huzzahs every
human did ejaculate
"not prematurely," where
all walks of life integrate,
a spontaneous international
utopian revelation awoke
with linkedin diversity to promulgate
protecting the planet took precedence
yea right Matthew Scott - dear mate
only in the context of this poem I did create.
To his Hungarian Jewish village, Moses returned
Atrocities were dismissed, his warnings spurned
He described Jews buried in ditches, gave details to persuade:
Agonized children, naked corpses, but the villagers were not swayed
Moses was diagnosed by his listeners as mad
He shouted, "Listen to me", but the wall was ironclad
He asked, "where are all the people who went with me west"?
But the Jews who listened, failed the "tolerance test."
The "tolerance test" is, don't dismiss out of hand
Don't blaze a trail if you don't scout the lay of the land
Entertain the proposition, look for details to disconfirm
Beware the snap judgement, ask, test, so you can learn.
A man came to warn Swiss Jews of genocide
They thought he was a propagandist, so he committed suicide
There is an essay written by a bitter Jew, Koestler was his name
He wote "we were dismissed as maniacs, we warned of the spreading flame"
To get photos out of Poland, some people died
But nine out of ten Americans thought witnesses lied.
British intelligence too couldn't bring themselves to believe
How could lazy heuristics so many deceive?
Finding the truth is not always an arduous task.
Sometimes it can be as easy as courage to ask.
Evidence can be ready to be assembled in your mind
Match up your clues and the answer you may find.
Truthtellers may be dismissed as lunatics, others as extreme
Some as paid-off liars, some as on the other team
There may be too many assumptions that have to be overthrown
Interpretations thought out of context, or overblown
Sticking with what your already know might be too seductive
Your logic might be good, but your model too reductive
A puzzle with missing pieces might never make sense
Unless you get off your chair and look for evidence.
A false idea of virtue can override what's real
Go by what you see, not just what you want to feel.
Some of us live in bubbles, caused by years of indoctrination
This makes it harder to trust sources, have a conversation
Koestler said his recurrent dream was being murdered on the side of a lane
Walkers talked and laughed, didn't hear his cries as he was slain
There are many misdiagnoses, mistakes, some drastic, some mundane
Let's make an effort to derail that deadly train.
Curator:
Pit cut into slope.
Many shallow sites.
No coffin stain; quick burial.
Fill consistent with disturbed soil and stone.
Skeleton:
I carried in my life a spear,
I died right here upon this rise.
No coffin came, no time for fear,
just stone and soil to close my eyes.
Curator:
Body laid on left side.
Orientation east;
possible ritual significance.
Adult male. Robust skeletal build.
Skeleton:
Some careful, unknown gentle hand
once laid my left side to the earth.
They faced me east, so I might stand,
a robust man of solid girth.
Curator:
Dentition worn flat.
Enamel loss.
Grain diet likely.
No luxury markers.
Skeleton:
The field gave grain, the hearth gave fire,
I ground the wheat with stone on clay.
No meat, no salt, no rare desire.
just bread to eat each day.
Curator:
Ribs compressed.
Minor displacement.
Consistent with settling or trauma.
Skeleton:
Soil settled slow upon my chest,
and left my ribs a shifting weight.
I could not fight, I could not rest,
as time bore down and would not wait.
Curator:
Skull fractured at temple.
Blunt force trauma.
No penetrating wound.
Fall after impact is possible.
Skeleton:
The stone, the steel, the sudden night.
I saw the flash; I felt the blow.
It dealt me death in broken light.
I lost the fight a long time ago.
Curator:
No grave goods.
Secondary disturbance likely.
Burial appears reopened.
Skeleton:
Again there came a hand and spade,
and took what lay upon my skin.
And what they took, they meant to trade,
My body now bones so thin.
Curator:
Adult male; warrior-associated.
Probable cause of death.
Context associated with conflict.
Skeleton:
Do not name me by wound alone,
nor by the silence of this ground.
I was flesh before I was bone,
and once my voice was clear and sound.
Someone stuck in the tunnel
dug in the desolate desert of deprivation,
doesn’t know what conceived in notion
constitutes the rationale of the thing
people of perception define
as the art of living, etched by elusive mirage,
in the free ambit of lively sunshine,
flooding the oasis of sanguinity.
Survival struggle pushes desperately
the languished life into the dark abyss,
breaks the fragile frame of the fleeting future,
the shards are thrown as the moments unlived,
in the debris of abject rejection,
unable to rise from the clasping chasm,
even if arduously tried.
Failing to find the escape route in the dark,
can’t kindle the candle of hope
to light up the unseen elusive end
of the gloomy tunnel of time,
but survival instinct lingers within bleak confine,
motivates to crawl frenziedly to the illusive future.
The meadow of florid translucent mind,
clear of convoluted shadows of confusion,
cast by the jagged thicket of ambiguity,
glows in the transit of fleeting moments,
rippling in the cascade of time,
latticed with the momentary luster
of the passing rays of sunset spectrum.
The sensitive passion, sparkling secretly
with the sequins of ever transient euphoria,
configures with evanescent radiance of certainty
the undeniable rational context of perception,
conveying everything has time to come and go,
for time stops for no one.
so many unknown variables to consider for such a tasking pursuit
a conditional ‘If’ but what if ‘whether’ reigns in a supreme challenge
conjectures battle refutations and synapses blocked in surrender
as long as suppositions succeeded in their hypothetical contemplation
the world may as well be flat and circle unhappily one of its moons
the ‘I’ would be futile a self negating deprecation on auto-destruct
and endless loop of no Self on a path to nowhere and nothingness
not of Buddha like Nirvana but hell on earth as we know it too well
a spinning confusion of gravity with levitation spared its flight of fancy
when meditation and pondering could not lift the soul above the mind
‘ruling’ that wishes to overcome suppression domination and power
appears a futile concept when freedom should be the ultimate aim
of course anarchy holds its merits but people cling to being governed
by false leaders fake news and an insatiable need for crude abdication
in an attempt to cast responsibility and shred all courage and hope
‘the’ poses the question of this or that where and when whether at all
a simple adverbial adjective refusing to rest on quiet incomplete duty
bereft of solitary meaning and such an imposter of clarity and precision
no stand alone metaphor of context and contingency lost in the process
but the planet needs answers and I do not give up easily if besieged
is there a ‘world’ out there a compass and globe in my restless attempts
to understand question emphasize deconstruct and give a sweet home
to live up to its promises and dreams as opposed to terminal decline
word has it that there are only illusions betrayal and survival of the fittest
engulfed in delusions conflagrations raging inferno straight from its core
‘I’ if it was able to resist compartmentalization of Ego Super Ego and Id
might not want the elusive generational torch snuffing out a last breath
maybe I am overthinking under emoting and have surrendered in vain
to lost beauty and a vacuum of distant echoes of an unforeseeable future
therefore I conclude that if I was the ruler I would ask my kids for advice
14th August 2020
Shirring quirks
There is a hollow in my complex poet’s soul
ambivalence and contradictions a vagary maybe
a vagrant’s search for meaning roots expression
a void and a fill just the same a need to be heard
Stream of consciousness at best with sudden
abrupt twists and turns between flexible moldings
derived from schema files impressions of context origin
contingency and sometimes seeming incoherence
Incontinence it may appear and yet a gathering
when fragmentation on the fabric of my tapestry
feeds an inner need to reveal all clarity and still
remains in mystery of mellow capricious constancy
Is it weird and odd idiosyncratic in peculiar eccentricity
does it disguise more than it reveals am I too secretive
or shy when I play with words ad infinitum and on that
matter is it not absurd when scribbles are fixed in verse
Is it strength conferred or foible fancy sneaky meaning
when the open book that I am remains closed in view
of polar opposites becomes a gathering in the theatre
of mind with a puzzled audience on ranks and sidelines
My twirling on this planet used to be clear and absolute
with no conscious orbits left infallible of strong delusion
I am now free to dither to have more question than there
are answers and need to understand myself before such
Quirk dissolves and exclusivity becomes open inclusion
No bestsellers yet or never but at the moment I cannot
sell my soul to the highest bidder and remain just there
in tender reconciliation in what in where and when today
03rd February 2018