Long Cortege Poems
Long Cortege Poems. Below are the most popular long Cortege by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cortege poems by poem length and keyword.
The earth seems flat and Godot decided to arrive on the scene
Like a boil stuck on a pancake dressed as a trans gender carnival queen
He carries a prophecy written on a tag hung from his shoulder
Suggests Sisyphus had it easy on slippery slopes with his boulder
A Mocking Bird rears its ugly head on ominous spread sheets of doom
One Hundred Years Of Solitude and Paradise Lost for a safe tomb
No divine comedy but rather Robinson Crusoe's forsaken enclave
Bell Jar meets Darkness at Noon in a world neither new nor brave
Is the cute fluffy bear safe or lost on tracks near Paddington Station
Has Peter Rabbit met Alice while loo roles are the prize for the nation
Will the Famous Five dwelling in a cave of adventure survive the storm
Can Pippi darn enough stockings when isolation becomes the latest norm
A decision for the Little Prince is to whether to leave the planet in time
Would Momo kiss Benno the street sweeper or is it declared a felony crime
Tom Sawyer has to heed aunt Polly's advice and avoid Huckleberry Finn
Who puts genie back into the bottle when Aladdin's lamp shines rather dim
Surely there are more important questions to pose during epic disaster
Why do the marginalized suffer more badly than those who master
Has Donald Trump enough money to put more bricks in the partition
Can we blame Russians or Muslims or some other satanic mission
God forbid if the Monarch of Britain was to bite the dust in the crisis
Would it be a vile conspiracy theory to accuse Jihad Al Qaeda or ISIS
But the worst had to be watching a funeral cortege on computer screens
Or that socialists villains take over the country which is not what it seems
10th April 2020
On a Snow Full Moon
I walk the Path of Odin
Like an initiate I wear only a white robe
On a Snow Full Moon
I walk the Path of Odin
I am sacrificed
I walk through the city streets
followed by two attendants
two older Greek women in black
In my hands
I carry two red roses
they are frozen from the cold
But they lay dormant
in my hands
One rose is life
One rose is wisdom
The roses are the symbol of new life to come
in the Spring
I walked pass many people in a square
they are concordant off behind police barricades
Its the death of small child
Men remove her silver black coffin from a car
I refuse to look directly
But my inner knowing
said a small girl has died
I thought to add the two roses
to the funeral cortege
But I hold on to them
The small girl who died
is my own death
The death of my inner self-ego
the sacrifice of walking Odin's path
When I reach the end of the path
I am confronted by women and men
in apartment block
I share what little food I had with them
from my journey
I could feel the presence of a presence in the room
but no one spoke of it
But then something began to move inside of my body
Inside my right hand smaller objects started to move around
Impressions of words and symbols and images
And the words: ODIN IS ODIN
I ask a man did he know about Odin's spirit being here
He said that he protects us and
he ran away to report the news to a friend that I felt Odin
Then I rubbed both of my hands together
and Odin's spirit moved around in both of my hands
I shouted out with joy
I shouted out in laughter
ODIN IS ODIN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skipping stones across the still quite waters
While as enclosed within these submerged thoughts....
Pondering this blanket of fogful mist alongst the path, have I tread and beared
As in time as in life as of recent days
Allowing shadows their moments somehow, someway?!
Lost amid the backwards brush of a translations, understanding....
Interpretations tattood upon my heart like an inverted crossing
Blood drenched quills soaked in cardinal red
Etched upon the caverns walls of what should have been said
These words this verse a world and then!?
Skipping stones from my very own Souls bleeding wounds
In gushing currents caught to seep through this they rent
Poisoned dreams; saturated walls aneath ripplings effects....
Rising dunes across quicksand deserts born in the mires; deeper and deeper
Into sedations daze as the storm clouds quickly gather above
Translations from these interpretations of, so called love?!
But how could this be and why I ask myself again
As the undertow of riptides begin to draw them in; further, into their sin...
Blood atop the pages to be extracted this breath of life
Life, that I have longed to embrace; to present
Spilled until its love had morphed into something bent!?
Stepping back from the edge now, upon this mountains cliff
The valley below amid chasteless darkness beckoning unto my Spirit
Calling from beyond; enticing tongues soaked in the stillness of, cortege red....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“Skipping Stones” ~
Form:
I attended a funeral today, for someone's loved one...
The room was full of garments of black, consoling gestures, and fond memories.
Tears were shed, sobbing was heard... but grief cannot be abated, with only a word.
Attentive ears, as the prayers were read...
Hearts deeply saddened by the loss, could only remain heavy in their anguish.
Memories of a life given, now taken away...by the Master who leads us all on our way.
The slow ride to that final resting place...
Passing through red lights, as thoughtful men watched the cortege in respect.
The last lonely place of stone...where so many laid their troubles before the Master's throne.
A few last words of comfort said, before we say goodbye...
Sobbing will stop soon, as the gloves and flower are laid gently down.
The hand of the Lord is shown again...as the silent petals are swept by wisps of wind.
In life there is death, for this is the rule...
It comes for us all too soon, and we know not how, or where, or when.
But in death there is life, for this is the truth...if only we believe, in God's holy proof.
The child born in Bethlehem so long ago...
Raised in love, youthful days filled with child's play and a heavenly mission.
His Son to die, so we could awake...to rise with Him, make no mistake.
The morning has passed, the mourning has broken...
Not through the words, or gestures, or flowers, or memories, or even the prayers.
Remember it was broken long ago...when Christ died for us, and then arose.
(See my poem - A' Ma which was dedicated to her.)
Mission half completed,
I’d watch from behind a tombstone quite a distance away,
the crowd gathered around my accomplishment
for someone else’s final resting place.
The cortege carried the coffin laid it at rest upon the slats,
tired repetitive words fall from lips, that refuse to lead
by example, the wake still heavy on his priesthood.
Begins, the lowering as sentiment takes one back
to a life not their own, while tears flow and cries
filter across the misty air, resound off the barren
limestone dry walls, that surround this place.
Folk begin to leave on what is now a two-way path,
this time anyway, while there is always one to linger a
little bit longer, a magic moment, a prayer or two.
My spade glistens ready for the strength of my arms,
like a ghost inconspicuous I walk to the mound,
ready to return my mornings work, each shovel full
of softer earth, I cover the polished pine wood box,
with a simple brass name plate, I apologise to the one inside,
and a week since was a walking talking identity.
I was only a 15-year-old lad, dragged into the world
of the dead, yet so much I did learn, they shown me the way
forward, with their silent answers, lit up my life taught
me respect, and dignity, for from where I stood, I look upon
the green fields the pastures and meadows created and laboured
on by those that lay in this small corner of the village.
So, to my father, and all of sundry, I say.
‘God bless you all’.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
I attended a funeral service today for someone's loved one.
The room was full of garments of black, consoling gestures, and fond memories.
Tears were shed, sobbing was heard...but grief cannot be abated with only a word.
Attentive ears, as the prayers were said,
Hearts deeply saddened by the loss, could only remain heavy in their anguish.
Memories of life given, now taken away...by the Master who leads us all on the way.
The slow ride to that final resting place,
Passing through red lights, as thoughtful men watch the cortege in respect.
The last lonely place of stone...where all lay their burdens before the Master's throne.
A few last words of comfort before we say goodbye,
Sobbing will stop soon, as the gloves and flowers are laid gently down.
The hand of the Lord is shown again...as the petals are swept by wisps of wind.
In life there is death, for this is the rule.
It comes for us all too soon, and we know not how, or where, or when.
But in death there is life, this is the truth...if only we believe in God's holy proof.
The child born in Bethlehem so long ago,
Raised in love, with youthful days filled with child's play and a heavenly mission.
His Son to die so all could awake...to rise with Him make no mistake.
The morning has passed, the mourning has broken,
Not through the words, gestures, flowers, memories, or even the prayers.
Remember it was broken long ago...when Christ died for us, and then arose.
Form:
Johnny’s going home today
His glory days are past
His buddies stand at attention
Eyes tearful and downcast
The sound of taps is softly heard
The mournful tune rings true
And all rise to salute him
As his cortege comes in view
Another soldier laid to rest
A warrior going home
Taps are played
Honor paid
To the bravest and the best
Billy’s going home today
Church Bells toll the news
His family softly weeping
As they line up in the pews
They reverently laid his coffin
Gently on the bier
As his mother reached out to touch him
Just wanting to be near
Another soldier laid to rest
A warrior going home
Taps are played
Honor paid
To the bravest and the best
A car bomb placed in Israel
Claims children passing by
Mothers are left helpless
Crying to God and asking why
Soldiers in Afghanistan
Patrol the land night and day
While the natives only wonder
When they will go away!
Ellen’s going home today
Her children still too young
Restless in their seats
As familiar hymns are sung
Her husband in his uniform
Stands stiffly as she goes by
They had met when they were rookies
And he tries hard not to cry
Another soldier laid to rest
A warrior going home
Taps are played…honor paid
To the bravest and the best
Lord when will we have peace
This peace for which we yearn
And the Lord answered ‘It’s up to you
When will MANKIND ever learn?”
Copyrright©2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
she had lost the plot long before in an insane labyrinth of her mind
trapped in the rat race of high speed and the volume on full blast
incarcerated shackled and straight jacketed thumb screws and all
contorting denial delusion and psychedelic support to no valid avail
and the wall of her self-imposed prison was barbed with wire of pain
the maze of synaptic connections discharged commands of unreason
torturous wheels of cognition failed to balance fierce contradictions
twisting and hurting she succumbed to a myriad of fake solutions
turning the tourniquet tight to receive the message of brown sugar
winding serpentine paths misconstrued from temptation and promise
and still the garden remained a wasteland of intemperate indignation
she had fallen off the wagon so many times that the engine had stalled
sinews lay bare under a sinuous array of purulent scars and punctures
a tattered puzzle of perplexed bewilderment awaiting the ultimate shot
the heroine submerged in near namesake poison in face of the needle
as the epitaph neared completion and the funeral cortege proceeded
she prayed and surrendered to a white knuckling ride of withdrawal
dragons danced with cold turkeys on her tomb stone but they refused
to relinquish hope for affronted vultures puked at sight of her ghost and
she recalls near death experiences and abstinence as a miraculous gift
25th June 2020
My funeral cortege has reached its destination
I see the serious visages of many,
And sniffs from the hearts of my cherished few.
My soul has a quick run through of my deeds
Pride that I loved and sacrificed true
Head held high when those around me stooped and fell.
I kept my values firm and didn't waver
When I heard the ethical call and fought for the righteous
Though commented upon but earned my respect.
Finicky for etiquette's, I raised the standards of many
Built up their confidences when they were low
Enveloped them in my arms and told them I was there.
Yet regretted for allowing myself to be abused
At the hands of my dear undear when I was a child
Thus toughened my girls not to roughen with the wild.
My dreams I didn't follow and repented awhile
Age laid out the plans of the One above all
I resigned and smiled at the flow of my life.
Happy I've left my family well equipped
Nurtured each with much more than complete love
To show largesse to sufferers and boldly face life's dilemma's.
I learnt to accept the unaccepted till my journey's end
In foolish innocence didn't avail opportunities of unexplored
A second chance would have been alike, for I know I am I.
I hear the crackle of fire light my pyre
My girls and my love ritualise my flight from life
Into the hearts of my most adorable few.
March 16, 2016
Contest: Lament Of My Life
Sponsor : Casarah Nance
DESPERATION V\S PASSION
Desperation gives you coup de grace
Passion leads you to reincarnation
again and again.
Desperation goes in vain,
Passion makes you reign.
Desperation takes you nowhere,
Passion is boulevard with future
to lead you everywhere.
Desperation is Satan ,to kill.
Passion is Jehovah,
makes you to live.
Desperation makes you to cry in pain,to loose.
Passion makes you to smile in glory,to win.
Desperation is cortege to life,
Passion is bar mitzvah of bairn to live.
Desperation doesn't take care of its preacher.
Passion take care of its preacher,
of its own.
Desperation in-signify you with lackadisical,
Passion signify you with alacrity.
Desperation is path of cowards,
Passion is path of warriors.
Desperation take you to addiction,
Passion takes you to sanity
to reach the soul.
Form: