Long Conviviality Poems
Long Conviviality Poems. Below are the most popular long Conviviality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conviviality poems by poem length and keyword.
Then was the flowing time
On its wings I could freely fly
Across the span of the azure sky
To the horizon of distant lands
Soar alongside of the floating flock
In the warm air stream of conviviality.
Then was the flowing time
When in the vibes of unfurled dawn
Tinged by the golden sunbeam
I could join the kith and kin
On the breeze-braced boughs
Croon together the spring song.
Then was the flowing time
When through the twilight gleam
I returned to the teeming nest
In the closeness of you all
Fold my wings in the embrace
Of unrestrained intimacy.
Now is the stalled time
Shadow of lurking invisible danger
Creeps menacingly from nowhere
Turning the nest into a cage
Confined morale plunging in lone abyss
Stagnates in gripping isolation.
Now is the stalled time
Hanging heavy on my collapsed wings
Songs have disappeared in desolate air
But rhythm of hope still pulsates in heart
New pristine dawn will color the dark sky
With the familiar flock I will fly there again.
July 31, 2020
Contest : Isolation Philosophy
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
The journey lasted for not more than forty glorious and blessed years
Before your smiles gradually faded as you journeyed to a land far away,
The hearse swallowed you into its belly, while hearkening not to our fears,
It sirened off with the streams of our cries flowing far beyond our doorways,
You were interred in that hot harmattan afternoon of November
With no winter to wither the sombreness of our soliloquys,
But surely for many more years to come, you shall be remembered,
Tho' it is certain that one day, we'll meet again by the heavenly quays,
As long as the tears of the skies wet the earth and the stars still continue in the sky to twinkle,
You'll forever be loved, even if the tears that flow in our hearts make our cheeks appear dry,
We'll just keep keeping in touch with you in prayer even after our skins completely wrinkle,
Tho', no matter how bitter our heart is, your goodness can't be brought back by our earthly cry.
But the shares of conviviality you doled out will always be there for us to appreciate,
A quintessential celestial reception for you, is what we, on your behalf, will daily apprecate,
May the almighty God compensate you for the goodness, everyone knows you gave,
May God count you worthy of being chosen as one of his beloved faves.
An immortal time traveler,
I visit placid planets and shining stars
across the inter-stellar space
in the timeless continuum.
I’ve visited many times in disguise
the unique blue planet,
thriving with vibrant earthly life.
There, in the distant past eons ago,
I cherished the flow of geniality air.
On its affable wings
I could freely fly like a bird
across the span of the azure sky
to the horizon of lilting lands,
soar alongside of the floating flock
in the warm space of conviviality.
It was the chromatic time then,
when in the vibes of vibgyor dawn,
tinged by the spectral sunbeam,
I could see the friendly throng
in the breeze-braced plateau,
singing together the spring song
of unrestrained intimacy.
In my final visit now,
I see the shadow of lurking desolation
creep menacingly close unhindered,
turning the earth’s corners into cages.
The confined spirits plunging in lone abysses
stagnate within gripping isolation.
Intolerance weaves threads of hatred
in the fabric of the scary times.
Innocent blood is shed in madness,
fanaticism spreads like wild fire.
Life is splintered by the lancet of chaos
into disposable debris uncared.
In the psychic grip of insolent stress
the fostered relationships crash.
Before the world order collapses
I ardently wish the times change.
The war-tanks become pianos,
guns transform into harmonic flutes,
deadly arsenals turn harps,
mercenaries become violins.
They all perform the symphony
of peace and universal brotherhood.
Before the hourglass breaks,
let the essence of times change.
The thorns of contempt turn into flowers,
cactus of hatred changes to olive branch.
Let the crooked minds morph into alchemists,
make golden strands from rusted fence wire
that will create the garlands,
intertwine the humankind with love.
By Izunna Okafor
Novelty
Novelty
Novelty
All is novelty
Easter is here
The much awaited Easter
For our Christ is risen
Where are the Christians?
Our churches are empty
Some even are locked
As if the Christ himself
Had failed to resurrect.
Our hands are coated
Our mouths are tied
How do we celebrate?
As we're banned from gathering
hugging and shaking.
Yes the Christ is risen
But we're still in rue
Mourning and shivering
Like in the day of crucifixion.
Our hearts jiggle
And our lives at risk
An unwelcome visitor is here
His arrival changed them all.
His name is coronavirus
A voyager
A product
An inventor
all the way from China.
Easter without communion
Easter without congregation
Easter without conviviality
Novelty to the credit of another
Corona corona corona!
That's all we hear
That's all we fear
Even on the day of resurrection.
Our sermons, our prayers
All pay allegiance to corona
Corona hodgepodged our Easter.
Corona pilfers our days.
Corona is ubiquitous
Corona is mortiferous
Easter amidst corona
All is novelty
and only but just a novelty.
© Izunna Okafor, 2020.
Written on 24th September, 2025.
Placed first in the poetry contest
"December Days" by Karen Jones.
Placed eighth in the 2025 Poetry Marathon
Mile 19 by Mark Toney.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas is coming again
I'm already dreaming of my village,
Once a year for a month
Yet the feelings last decades long
that adulthood struggles to erase.
The excitement of swimming in a pond,
With our nakedness brushed by fishes
we dare not kill.
And our mouths gulping water with roots of water lilies
that taste like bitter leaf.
Yet we never fall sick.
Then we go back home with pots of water
with our laughter echoing our goodbyes,
through the dark night that cut short our fun.
Leaving what was robbed from us to linger as dreams.
Surely it's not the pond that brings the fun,
but the innocence of our childhood that the water conveys.
We talk the language of conviviality
that our swimming pool at home never teaches.
Not that the village pond can teach—
but it brings together true friends,
sharing the same colours, language, and culture.
In its depth we learn the language
our parents once spoke.
As they built the camaraderie
they wove into our laughter.
And the farms too.
Otherwise we would have believed that:
yams and cassavas grow on tall trees
like mangoes and oranges.
But the farms teach us at harvest time
that goodness is nurtured in the ground
before the fruits of its happiness
shine for our eyes to appreciate.
And the grandmas especially,
they make us believe we are small gods:
who have to be placated with whatever they desire,
so we feign illness to get more of the care.
Trust our grandmas
they never got bothered
by our indulgence.
They loved us deeply, until their final breath.
On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great excitement under a star-studded sky at night.
With the crew so hospitable, there was overwhelming warmth and conviviality.
Wine and liquor flowed down through gullets; tasty cuisines were served.
On the deck couples and lovers waltzed, a sweet breeze kissing their cheeks.
But tragedy loomed large in the form of an iceberg, unobserved.
I sat away from the crowd enjoying the rising gaiety.
What was the deafening sound I heard from near?
With a violent shake, the huge leviathan turned to one side.
Hardly knew what was happening, but sensed death was not far.
Hit hard n' ripped into two pieces, the vessel began sinking into the waters.
Amid euphonic melody and revelry, some didn’t know what was happening.
Some in panic ran helter skelter with growls and groans renting the air.
A man gave away his lifeboat to a mother and child, his own life abandoning.
It was a moment I witnessed the beauty of selfless love.
I was inspired to give away my lifeboat that I secured by chance.
A divine spark hit me, and all anxieties vanished instantly.
Sudden was the transmutation, I saw the whole scene in a new stance.
Heaven’s fire was lit in my breast and in love, my spirit began to glow,
How great it is to give life to someone who needed it more.
I heard the angel’s voices flit, saw a new door opening wide.
Had a fleeting vision of the heavenly hall with aureate roof and glazed floor.
I knew all my agony depart and hope instantly sparking.
With God on my side, I felt sinking into the icy depth,
My mind was calm with an unusual courage filling my every nerve,
And my horizon growing bigger and enlarging into uncommon width.
My inaudible parting words were “Goodbye Titanic, fare thee well,
In the oceanic depths, you stay as a symbol of world’s fleeting glory,
Making men think that fate can shatter and pulverize human hubris.
In the sunless Atlantic lair, lie down ageless to tell your allegorical story"!
A deep, dark kindred spider looms to proffer the sentiment,
That abuse just objectifies the long persistent winter:
Scouring around playfully, but embedded in the night -
Two way of seeing it but only one plight.
That black body, its piercing eyes drive acutely,
In the lengthy web that’s receptive but selfish with quirk,
With thin, spindly legs which effect to mobilise,
The creature only some befriend to glamourise.
We hold to the summer, autumn and spring as the norm,
Not winter’s harrowing chill which makes us so often ill;
The act of telling someone you've been raped, abused,
Should not be a sick kick or a jester’s a thrill.
If you don't give us our minds, stance and chirps,
You'll just be cushioning that admiring psychologist,
Who asks us about physical abuse, sexual, and rape,
But who we hate to have as we’ve no trait.
Give us our spirits, intellect and powers:
Don't glare, glance and glower at our ordinary activities;
Equality only exists when you feel it and can tower,
In the informal social networks of civil conviviality.
And of course, nasty small talk itself causes rape,
Violence and abuse which derides and can shape,
The heart that reaches out to befriend and welcome,
The fence-sitter, the open mind who quietly relates.
But if you say physical abuse just objectifies other lesser evils,
Like criticising needlessly, cutting us off, and gloating,
Then your sick in the head and unforgivable,
Because all discrimination is unnecessary and avoidable.
All Clouds Lead to You
Imagine us, high above the earth,
Laughing on a silver-lined cloud,
Filled with sensuality and mirth.
You, feed me luscious grapes,
With such love and joviality.
Beyond normal,any conviviality.
Gentle droplets of rain, on us fall.
Brilliantly, prism-colored.
They invite me to your lips'soft call.
Where there is joy unsurpassed.
And not the least bit of sass!
Glad to leave the earth behind,
You, the only one, I will love.
For the rest of nectared time.
9/8/2020
How Times Have Changed~
We ran so innocently in lush, soft, beautiful grass!
Dreamt of wonderful futures on the finest, fresh smelling sheets.
Mother treated each child as her very own angel creation.
When apart, we pigtailed beauties, actually called each other on real phones!
Sadly, the deliciuis times of being together, are no longer here,
And no, sorry! Facebook and a child stuck in front of any screen.
Can never bring back the joy, the togetherness, the very vibrancy
Of loving and close human conviviality.
Love has transformed, so that, it's like looking for it in a rear view mirror.
We lost our love for one another, in tragic totality!
A God, a church for some, just is far too demanding,
Besides, we might have to leave our house, or worse be standing.
We killed God and became ravenous, selfish beasts.
We cannot connect humanly anymore, as once we fearlessly did.
That feigned pretense of "caring" is absolutely the worst.
It is nothing more than electronic symbols on a device!
Our once sparkling, spiritual souls, that belonged to God.
Totally stone cold,like the dead, under the sod..
666 and his minions launching their final work.
Theit goal? To see that God is never once mentioned.
We really think we are bigger than God? Yes, we consider Him a clod!
We never attribute any success we have to Him
Drunk on our own wonderfulness, indeed hollowness,
In a world that we never created.
Detachment, no-speaking is the word of the day,
We never consider or think that another human,
Might need a hug, a visit, from another soul.
In fact, we rob them of hearing our voices at all.
So busy are we, destined on a train to hell.
Deaf,are we, totally to our own death's knell.
On fine new couches we sit, huge TV's captivate us,
Our stomachs, full and bulbous, but it doesn't bother us.
So off to get manicures, haircuts and more.
We are horribly prideful and vain, strutting like arrogant roosters.
We can't stop playing vainglorious games.
Never for God, oh, no~just for our personal,insignificant fame!
Panagiota Romios
4/10/2018
It was the drifting time then
With its flow I could freely fly
Across the span of the azure sky
To distant lands beyond the horizon
Soar along with the floating flock
In the warm air of conviviality.
It was the drifting time then
When in the vibes of unfurled dawn
Tinged by the golden sunbeam
I could join the kith and kin
On the breeze-braced boughs
Croon together the spring song.
It was the drifting time then
When drenched in twilight gleam
I returned to the teeming nest
In the fond closeness of you all
Fold my wings in the embrace
Of unrestrained cordial intimacy.
It is the stalled time now
Shadow of invisible coronavirus
Creeps menacingly everywhere
Turning the nest into a cage
Confined morale plunges in lone abyss
Languishes in gripping isolation.
It is the stalled time now
Burden heavy on my collapsed wings
Songs have disappeared in dark night
But the rhythm of hope pulsates in heart
New pristine dawn will color the gloomy sky
Joy and freedom of the olden times will return.
It is the stalled time now
The altered scenario has transformed
Me and the way I look at my secluded future
Where the norms of intimacy will be redefined
As the recouped life isolated and changed
Adjusts to the ways reset to the new normal.
___________________
Written : June 23, 2021
Edited : December 30, 2021
Contest : Coronavirus (COVID-19)
Sponsor : Robert James Liguori