Long Courtesies Poems
Long Courtesies Poems. Below are the most popular long Courtesies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Courtesies poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Tea & More by EverPic.
The Mettle of Mom's Kettle
Dear mother's tea kettle.
She purges impurities daily.
She satisfies it with freshness.
Encounters gained exponentially.
She alights the stagnant to awaken.
Temperate measures brew righteously.
Truly divine profoundness spirits a flavor.
She bears its consequence with confidence.
Gifting patient nothingness anticipated quench.
Honeyed sugary sweetness greets a reigning crown.
A Word of grace courtesies a solemn room full of smiles.
"...it continues..."
2022 December 31
*10th Place*
YOUR CHOICE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2023 January 11
Mid February dreams amongst the winds of change
I am waiting for the season to relinquish its hold
like the frost on the rooftops, the snow at my door
sooner or later will be no more...
I am watching the pine tree swaying in the cold sun
dipping its branches, courtesies of a winter's day
A piano plays softly in the background
as I sit here contented as a well fed cat
Mid February dreams amongst the winds of change
From my rocking chair, lavender fields remembered
sun born kisses with eyelet flashes of white linen
suntanned arms raised before a blue, blue ocean
airborne on a surfing board secured as an eagle
like a beach boy I flew, and who ever knew
She came to me like an August dream and
slipped her tiny hand in mine, we became one
like the summer stars in the sky when they bly
from my rocking chair lavender fields, I remember
Winter enclosures well aged in composure I sit to admire
the view, amazed at how everything secretly, expires.
In a universe of glass and steel, where fluorescent light dances on cold walls,
We have lost ourselves, men of the age, caught in the trap of a paper dream,
Where the tie becomes a noose, suffocating any impulse of freedom,
And each day is an absurd play, performed under the gaze of relentless shadows.
Here, in the cages of concrete, masculinity breaks like a reed in the storm,
Adorned with trivial, illusory tasks that reduce us to the silence of an unheard whisper,
And our souls, like dried-up rivers, seek salvation in the memory of freedom,
In a world where paper hierarchies are sandcastles, built to bury us.
The divorce between spirit and body began in windowless offices,
Where personality crumbles under the weight of forced smiles and false courtesies,
And in this space, toxic femininity carves its path, a serpent with sharp-worded scales,
Leaving behind a trail of ruined reputations, wounded souls, and shattered dreams.
But we, lost in this labyrinth of futility, know that beyond these walls,
There is a horizon where we are still free to rediscover our essence,
For true masculinity is never lost, it merely awaits the moment to be reborn,
Like a sun hidden behind the heavy clouds of a world that refuses to see it.
Everything was going to fade away,
When you collapsed on the last day.
Everything was going to fall apart,
Nothing could hold you on the surface!
Everything reminded me of you –
The way you presented yourself to me,
The way you showed the courtesies,
The most glorious story I have ever read is you!
Every tiny finger was worshipped by me,
Every curve was felt intensely,
Every scar was celebrated with sacred passion,
Everything would be nothing if it were not yours.
Any dull caricature reminds me of your sweetest face,
The intonation of your voice still haunts me to the grave,
Your cutest tiptoes still seek me till the 5 o'clock sun,
The entire you is the perfect smile of a godlike creature to me!
The way I have seen you,
The way you were worshipped,
The demeanour to which I have never felt bored,
The alcove of my heart always welcomes you!
There are many tricks to the slave trade the face we wear is one.
Cheerful Smiling faces, happy high fives dancing under the sun.
Cover the truth as best you can is instructed to every man.
To fake-it-til-you-make-it urged throughout ones’ Life span.
Look upon the inner being with open eyes of better seeing.
Pretend that you are gleeful, full of wealth and care, free of woe.
You are far above the clouds and not involved in the ole heave hoe.
Do not permit the world to see the truth beneath the hide.
Bottle it up and press it down to keep it deep inside.
Look upon the inner being with open eyes of better seeing.
Ignore the burdens of the chains in life.
Dull the senses 'til null the pains of strife.
What’s the meaning of this evilness?
This is not the path to holy bliss.
Look upon the inner being with open eyes of better seeing.
Wherefore art thy shameful sin?
Tis’ Hidden betwixt the evil grin?
Forced Social courtesies to live a lie.
Taunting embarrassingly False pride.
Look upon the inner being with open eyes of better seeing.
Uncontrolled envious jealousy and rage.
Solely for a phony life that’s staged.
Secret groups, we give our pledge.
between us a widely divided wedge
Look upon the inner being with open eyes of better seeing.
Why is the truth of my state deemed mean?
Why the view on reality found only in a dream?
Why must You "Permit-me-to-be-honest"?
Surely, in this philosophy, I’m not the lonely monist.
Look upon the inner being with open eyes of better seeing.
****07/2020
If I was to take a word, say focus,
Stand it on its head,
And ask with growing sense of dread,
Why my friend did you just now,
Fly upon this particular
Moment’s verbal locus?
Torture I might answer, like waterboarding,
Might explain a thing or two.
Indeed the stakes are dear,
And the coast far from clear-
For foggy shores clarity prevents,
The utter contingency of cluttered events.
Focus is the mine shaft of the mind,
Magnifying that which falls
Into categories of significance:
Signs of a trance, a mental dance,
By which thinking signifies
The magnificent follies
Of a man upside down
In a world of lies.
No subtlety there,
Poet banging hair chest bare,
The mental frequency hertz,
Screeching, scratching, snatching,
Lose bits of hurt out of the air.
The mathematics of falling
Made clear by Newton,
His numbers uncovering
What was
Always there:
A god already in free fall,
The Fall, the autumn of our birth,
The forsaken garden,
Two dummies hand in hand,
An undulating snake,
A world of entanglement,
All fleeing into a desert dream.
For what? To where? And why?
The three double jews of the trinity
Which Law forbade no One to ask,
Yet no body did
Put focus to task.
She reappears all the time.
The rabbit hole stood for what was to come,
The worms therein what was done.
The trip down was fun,
Getting out gave more than the sum.
The prism diffracted the invisible
Beams of light,
An assortment of possibilities followed,
The world explained, the mind contained,
A boundless infinite void of space,
Surrounding us,
Disgracing us,
For we had to face,
The borders of our place.
Trapped inside
We looked the other way,
Attic floors, token doors,
A distilled virtue, forgeries for another day.
The sky was not the limit, we were.
The atoms of the mind mere reflections
Of our best guessing games.
There though, lay our best hope.
After the bloodshed
She reappeared again.
But only after.
Choices like Templars into the night,
Distracted the courtesies of a harmonious cosmos,
God had blood and died,
Men embraced humiliation and cried,
Change, the abomination of free will,
Altered the fabric of time.
Focus put by for a rainy day.
Distraction, the play thing
Of an unruly monster lurking in the shadows of thought,
Vomiting a pile of disassociations.
Beyond boundaries, beyond humdrum of human race,
Beyond provinces mundane, among mysteries of space,
There is a realm of thriving wonderment, an idyllic place,
A place of peace and goodwill, hosting heavenly grace,
Where pavements glittering gold beautify every street
Surrounding ornate, walled, mega-mansions of elite,
Where people garbed in fabled attire gather and greet
Grooving to exotic melodies, extolling tempo upbeat,
Echoing sounds of mirth celebrating Shangri-La aglow
Reveling on prairies and streams, glinting angelic glow,
On pristine banks of paradise where rivers of elixir flow
Blossoming beauty of Eden, gardens utopian bestow.
There we meet, relishing dreams, musing in our fairy-tale,
Beyond drudgery, beyond worries, beyond mortal pain,
Lauding courtesies of nirvana fantasies mythical unveil
Elated in enchantment of exhilarating, paradisal domain,
Ecstatic of your fervid stance, inviting fervor of romance,
Caressing embrace of love holding me close to your heart
Proffering gestures esoteric in seductive tease of glance
Synchronizing beats-melodic, passions euphoric impart.
“We are all petals of imperfection sharing the same sun” - Silent One
The sun can appear to be coldhearted
be truly said by those of equal share
the nature of them that had departed
is small known to them that they truly care.
Measured life are revisited, narrows,
the bars you've set accord abilities,
eagles soar above the heights of sparrows,
divides pleasure from third-world courtesies.
The befallen misreads dropping in-kind,
yond their diligence forward forgivings,
cause and effects, trust and obey in time,
all life gifts be true to themselves living.
We're created by one, who created the sun, ergo thrive,
to grow in one accord for every time there is a season,
we should rise to his glory and be thankful to be alive,
the acts of the sun to rise and to set its course of reason,
I'm happy to be holding onto His everlasting arms,
I am grateful that I am protected from all of life's harms.
Marauding herdsmen, simple
in disposition,
but yet
sophisticatedly armed
straddling an AK47 as
the rod of a stockman.
The simple farmers, genial
in disposition garnished
with infectious courtesies
straddling simple tools.
It's a fight to the slaughter
not of cows so sacred
but
Of grazing rights and farmlands
Of pastures and food crops
Of the North and the South.
The sacredness of the herdsmen
and cattle.
The lowliness of the farmlands,
life
at its lowest ebb.
Impunity!, impunity!! where the
rule of law reigns supreme.
The herdsman as sacred as
Buddha.
But the farmer as droppings on
a dunghill;
to be trampled upon.
Blood and dust a mix with
derision.
Blue blood runs in the
herdsman's veins
The herdsmen reign supreme in
Nigeria.
*Image of The Spiritual Gift by Pixabay.
Gift Of A Lifetime
Fortuitous rise o'er Heaven's Gate, Grace courtesies with thy breath,
Gift of life crafts thy mercy being tis naught origin or edge about such,
Therefore, gratuitous deeds innately born to thee from thine inception,
Thou art generous in thy spirit proffers a chronicle of what thou hast giveth,
Performing thy contributable legacy to prompt giving without want in return,
Anonymity's art submissions to Heaven an accounting of thy kindness,
Thereby, thy heart art cleansed for naught soliciting any earthly rewards,
Yielding a part of thyself by donatable acts revises the Book of Life in thy stead,
Blessed art His name for thy breath of life He hast giveth thee,
~~Charitable fulfillment thou surrendereth.
2019 October 15
*2nd Place*
1st Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration
~~Regina McIntosh: Judged 2019 October 24
*HM*
A FREED VERSE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 December 30