Long Cyclopean Poems

Long Cyclopean Poems. Below are the most popular long Cyclopean by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cyclopean poems by poem length and keyword.


Not Quite the Remnant of Those Myriad Poems That Yestereve I Composed

The armies they are massing:
They line and ring every shore, every strand bristling with 
The deadliest of weapons;
The tocsin should be sounded, 
And every cannon is round at its bore.
Fires rage unchecked and unopposed throughout the 
Entire world, and mankind, in part, prepares hastily and needlessly 
Yet more and crueler, 
Harsher atrocities, cruelties
And machines and weapons of horrific war.
Bloody folly and empty vainglory to 
Embark imprimis upon the roads to all-out war, 
I greatly fear that these are man's fate, 
And though I attempt to raise the alarm
With this writing of mine, yet I fear I may be too late!
"Too late! Too late! This, then, is mankind's fate!" It cruelly mocks, 
Crows and caws as the ebon raven, 
Croaking its dread prophecies in my ever-attentive ear.
It chills even my waiting 
Tankard of frothy, frosty beer;
Yet no beer-drinker am I,
No quaffer and lover of ales and lagers.
And still I hold a lonely vigil,
And keep a silent, motionless, breathless watch on the swiftly storm-filling sky.

5. Making steel-enclosed aeronautical, aerodynamical vessels sealed 
And brimming only with overmuch indiscriminating death:
Dual-edged, oiled with and soaking in an abundant poison bringing
Vicious death to the poisoner as well as the poisoned,
Man is a violent, self-destructive fool: Lame, impotent, 
Obsessed and somehow impatient of vilest death.
Death for his opponent, his manufactured, 
Fancied nemesis:
Nay; his NEMESES:
Yet not for himself, this horrid death he dreams of bringing to an imagined enemy only.
Additionally, he hath built and placed all his faith in titanic weaponry of 
Awesome destructiveness, 
Possessed of the devastating potency of an angry, rampaging god.
And these vile implements of utterest extirpation;
Encased within a very nation of steel tubular;
They are as wayward, incorrigible,
Marauding, plundering, malicious gargantuan 
Monsters: 
Great, cyclopean giants of a horribly puissant 
Destroying fury
Bringing only disaster upon all heads;
Anarachic, ultra-liberal in there dark and evil slaughterousness:
Slaying even their maker, having no loyalty, cold and cruel:
Delighting only in death, wanton destruction, infamy and cruelty.
No man nor nation should possess these terrible weapons,
Yet too many do.
Form:


Cyclopean Reminiscence

Stashed with programs recorded, which, condensed on universal files
Will tell them very little of what they don’t know and may never know
In this lifetime or the next heaven, in this orbit or the next
Treasure from this Earth loaded up on classical chips, some kind of text
Even the quantum loads with memory mimetic, made to mimic the brane
Will lead you no where’s at all, empty, with your mind well past insane

For what else or beyond could be so crazy as to part from this precious earth
Without ever having known it’s cost, price, work, measure or stint of worth
And clearly, those who leave, when they leave, will not have known one grain
Of sand or soil, mud or toil: all dusty plows pluming billow-clouds into rain
Run on gasoline or stocks of mules, donkey, horse, or ram, shepperd’s hand
Fields from lost fields, turning wheat from grass, rice from blue water land

The mystery of death and birth still a mystery; life a mere reminiscence
Without any real light here or plant photometry, only luminescence
Imagine leaving this planet without every having known it’s rhythm
Going to some other world set in it’s own path, with it’s Keplerian hum

Beating out some different drum, set in a blinding sphere of light and sound
Like blended whiskey with the Irish; or Navajo, without the calendar round

Sans irony, the starmen will consult their astrologer or star-chart for this logic
Countin’ the days before they land again when the stars are [csmo]allo-genic
Since this cosmos has revealed no light to them, the starmen going forth
Eager to jump off of Earth’s orbital path, bend and trajectory
Their spacesuits, ships, tanks, sabres, and thrusters made from the factory
Everything printed like plastic in hazy glow and in false dimension
In light and low gravity, with false smiles and fat charms hanging in suspension

How could the new age begin completely unaware, one might ask ?
With no real knowledge of how the past one ended, without a task
This high level of dimness, this naivete, and ignorance unknowing
Much like blind men on the river styx, or perhaps, along with Homer rowing
Going from one ruse to harbour next shenanigan—look into the Cyclop’s Eye!
No land in Egypt and with Dido elope, with the Siren’s despair, intoxicants in Libya
Form: Blitz

For Auld Lang Syne Blurring, Blinding and Blending of Things

Do you see the two about to kiss                                           or vase in the void                                        Reversing figures  a face or a vase                                         Caressing touch of perception                                                    The blind spot shadows of interposition                             sensations that appear to be real but are created                        within the mind Erupting within the mind of fiction                 An emotional parallax but not a delusion                         Imaginations seeing things bigger than they are                  Constancy sizing within your mind                                               Do you see the two about to kiss                                           or vase in the void                                                                 Your clear avoidance                                                              sloping characteristics of a surface                                              on the surface you graduate                                                 Zippering within the mind                                                         An illusion in proximity                                                          Alleged ability to gain information about an object                    Like a starving fever reality kisses the imagination                                                                                       Whole that is perceived as more than the sum of its parts        Using a viewfinder to look for a Cyclopean image                      Do you see the two about to kiss                            or vase in the void                                              Closure a common fate
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Adieu To Mild Winter 2019

This last day of February two thousand nineteen
Southeastern Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
unlikely to be inundated with heavy snowy scene
methinks buds will burst early issuing royal green
carpeting landscape, sans expert architects queen

"Mother Nature" commences to baptize spilling
purity, sans cerulean bajillion year celestial tureen
while refulgent solar beams massage tender shoots
thawing frozen earth, where frigid cold icy sheen
hermetically sealed, asper horizontal frozen wall,

when skaters waltzed stealing lovers kisses unseen
soon melted pools of water all a buzz with feeding
Gabriel trumpeting "NON FAKE" arrival herculean
powers unleashed since time immemorial worship,
and/or sacrifices made to deities of webbed skein

viz, animal and/or plant wide world rejoicing when
harvest yielded cornucopia primitive, yet overkeen
superstitious scattered bands of hominids plentitude
linkedin to sugar daddy's favorite colored jellybean
benediction rituals also included pagan dispensing

prayers believing obeisance necessitated cyclopean
appeasement lest death and destruction would rain
purple pearl drop monsoon, traced to angry spirits
subsequently drowning helpless prehistoric hygiene
cleansed *****sapiens ancestors possessing gene

and chromosomes latent within dormant flora lean
fauna coming alive with the scent of fragrant bouquet
while the hills burst with creativity healthy panacean
liberating tentative "cabin fever" wrought by polar
vortex, the spell of warm weather, a respite sunscreen

applied to ward off deadly ultraviolet solar radiations
something in magnitude bajillion extinctions obscene
spate of lost species as seasons greetings witness hot
untenable global warming affecting every calm serene
nook and cranny incumbent to relish approximately

twelve weeks of cold temperatures sipping my ovaltine
recollected from boyhood, when snowfall covered roofs
tops inconveniencing Rudolph, and his deer friends a teen
nee bit, and school cancellation required state requirement
resulting summer vacation shelving reading Pygmalion
for Shaw!
Form: Pastoral

Seek Fortune Teller Asap Haint No Fable

Seek fortune teller asap (haint no fable)

Best nondescript literate jinxed
humble dug good feller ya e'er seen
amenable, a non biased opinion -
of course I mean mine mein
yours truly gets no lucky strike breaks
particularly never ending

surprising automotive repairs,
thus in sore need of green
i.e. legal tender concerning Hyundai Sonata
two thousand and nine
admirable craftsmanship e'en
though urgent message freon

me and the missus, we
lack adequate funds
until early December
tooth house zen nineteen
when soonest social
security disability payment reason

without rhyme arose cause faulty gene
neurological schizoid personality disorder
honest to dog - affliction since...
in utero growing as little bean
not shy to pull out all stops,
and comb clean

albeit sharing genetic personal flaws
affecting psychological skein
imposing lifetime emotional hardship
invariably causing financial frostbite,
ye might not readily glean
faux Shakespeare's Banquo

(now my bank woe)
to give checking account gangrene,
whereby amputation left absolute zero
cents and sensibility, 
but accursed Halloween
nightmare every four times fifteen

orbitz round the nearest star,
no matter applying ample sunscreen
me got smarts attested as seen
evident crafting poems keen
with sophistication, yet oft times lean
if - said phrase Sheryl Sandberg popularized

nsync, she dismisses Facebook cyclopean
tentacles squeeze out private data
muckraking monstrous machine
minting dime a dozen billionaires
anointing Silicon Valley
realm housing queen
and self anointed king Mark Zuckerberg

twenty first century Midas,
no need to hex spleen
his unabashed heartfelt virtue, he doth preen
ah... pipe dream to rub figurative shoulders
never in bajillion years,
and no chance empyrean
afterlife will eradicate hellish scene.


Premium Member The Gift: Rebirth

THE GIFT: REBIRTH

Oh God, my Dearest God...
  clothed me fine 
    with your love divine
        upon magma pits that hid me
Oh God, my Dearest God...
   take me, save me... Save me!

My life gnarled 
  old like cathedral trunks
   deep rooted under brown solid soil ground.
  Branching trials somehow
    coiled and pinned me down..
      So as dark cyclopean sins fog me;
        shuddering my peace and sane.

Oh God, my Dearest God
    how calm, oh so calm, you came.
      How quiet, oh so quiet you cared
        How gently, oh so gently, You cushioned me
   Lovingly, oh so lovingly, YOu rescued me.

Tumbling twixt to pillars of dawn and twilight
    Oh God, my Dearest God
With You, threading mountain to mountain of woes, 
  lead me to harvest free
to orchard gifts of wisdom, hope and strength
   even to  crystal stairs of limitless amber wonder,
You let me experience to pursue these borders.

Oh God, my Dearest God...
  With our partnered walk
     icy drizzle of snowtalk
       melted gradually...
Oh God, my Dearest God...
  By siblings of smiles and golden gestures
     You permitted me to have anew nurture.

Oh God, my Dearest God
   allow me then to hymn a psalm
      let it be a humble hum
 of my gratitude to Your matchless charm.

Barefoot, oh God, I will come
  baring all and bowing down.
 I will deliver my soulful cry
   that my aged misty life is gone
 And that,
   now
      is a present rainbow valley of rebirth..


© O. E. Guillermo
10:21 pm
September 02, 2014

Sponsor	Verlena S. Walker
Contest Name	The Gift 
Placed first.. :) to God be the glory..

Inspire by Biblical Verse:
2 Corinthians 5:17

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come...

Judgement Day

Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem:  Judgement Day 
Edited by:  Sparkle Jordan 
written:  May/2016


Theirs a wave coming  -

It's moving slow for now;
far beyond the horizon - 

Each day it grows widely 
in silence across the sea -

Looking out farther than the 
eyes can see; a swell of rising 
water - a Tsunami wave, 
is rolling towards land.

However, nonbelievers says 
that a tsunami will never touch
ground.

They say:  "it's been talked 
about for years; nothing has 
ever happened."

Soon,  this "little" uneventful wave
will become the worst catastrophe 
on earth, since Noah's Ark.

It's an unstoppable force,
that keeps getting bigger  -

In fact, it's larger than BIG!
It's an unexplainable Colossal 
phenomenon  -

that crescendos with supreme 
thrust towards life on an 
unexpected land -

Though the swells from it's 
majestic  presence, blankets 
the Ocean  -

still it goes unnoticed in a selfish 
world of unconscious souls; 
ungrateful souls, and non believers 
in Christ.

Soon,  this inexhaustible
cyclopean wave will make landfall -

it's waters will cover the whole 
earth, and the atheists shall stand 
in judgement, before the Almighty, 
who’s Alfa and Omega.

On that day, their will be (literally),
no where to run.....This time, their 
will be no Noah’s Ark.

Yet, some will run to the mountains -
praying for the mountains to save 
them -

The mountains shall cry out:

"Where was your faith before God,
sent the "Giant Wave," to wash over
the earth?"

Sinners!
Will you be saved?

Copyright (c)., 2016 Ken Jordan
© Ken Jordan  Create an image from this poem.

I Was So Happy

all the pheromones circled around me
without knowing, we will gather you all
and we make a world
you draw like the silver treacherous snails
pressed intersections
some over others in translucent layers
ah, here, this is the time you said
and we gather around
all around
extreme words and states

I was photographing the world with one cyclopean eye
cramming it into one night
glasses, cups, plates
how many sets I broke
stockings how many pairs I broke
a silky mountain to circulate mathematical butterflies
invented by the statistics of the managers
on the thighs

and house noises
on the dress painted by your hug

we were young
we are working on an abyssal constellation
our bodies craved warmth
and the hugs
and expectations
friends were watching us too
getting under their skin I was growing
move forward
I made leaves and flowers
and they gave birth to other planets
and other trajectories
and other plans were intertwined

we cannot say that the walking has slowed down
and neither did I forget
I waited until everyone arrived
so far away
that no sound was heard
shouting from one to another

density increased and voices
they were impregnated as the leaves in the geological layers
one of us will have to come
from the future
to research them
to understand what I said today

so far we have each come
that
it will be necessary that on the wall of this embrace
to give birth to children
let's give birth to voices that forget us

Lost

Lost

She is all purpose this one,
Desperate in her passions
Wild and perilous
Moods akin to seasons in extreme
Her humor, an ocean
Roiling, rolling
Continuous movement
Treacherous
False faced and abysmal
Hearty and splendid
Terrible and opaque
Yielding nothing
None of its deep seeded truth
Beautiful on the surface
Shimmering
Golden under sunlight
Silver in moonshine
But dark, deep,
Seething and terrible
Beneath.

She sells sea shells on the seashore…..
And throws a tantrum or two
Eyes of sky
Turn to ice
Poetry, to venom.
In the garden she walks 
midst the multicolored beds
of slowly wilting flowers
the serpent ever watchful
while her hero sleeps
blissful and unaware
happy in his ignorance
mighty in his folly
king of his world
dismembered by his own Member
upstart idol, cyclopean god.

Rage lends her beauty
And her wild fury
Madness.
There is futility in her ways
Like a reed to every wind
This way that way
Swaying
I see no truth
Only lies on lies
Until
Standing at the height of a pyramid
One sees all but knows nothing
Only murky horizons and gloom laden skies
In her eyes
I see reflection
Upon her tongue
Sits a stranger.

To Babel I came
In the noon hour of spring
And they all spoke in tongues
So there was no understanding between us.
Yet in the first we were like brothers
Knew one another from a crowd of millions
Chose to walk astride each other
Against the flow
Braving the tide
Until wearied by toil
We were washed away
And lost.

Carlos
eve
Form:

Atlantis Dreaming

Before the inchoative formation of bygone days, before time's transposing and 
infantile sands,
Before the engulfing deluge covered our quixotic shores,
Whence the awakened were dreamers bestriding upon night's fuliginous sands, 
Too late did our vaticinators previse deluded by  knowledge's eldritch doors,

Of Lemuria and Mu, once reigning over the eastern climes,
As the deceitful dancers sway to notes execrable,
For their perspicacious chanters mumbling over antediluvian rhymes,
The Brobdingnagian power untethered to 
crystalline pyramids, prodigious and incredible,

As these inimical dreams descend upon me under a Carib sky,
My fevered mind stalwart to this time begins its empyrean dance,
Into the measureless currents of sleep I fly,
A boundary broken limitless by words unspoken beyond time's cyclopean expanse,

How could a sole entity depict the wafting citadels of eternal electrum, titanium and 
true gold,
Of the pellucid towers commanding the salient aether,
Antecedent portals from a vanished race bending time
traversing beyond spaces cold,
Tamers of the bestial winds, riders upon Gaea's gifts we savor,

Too late, did we realize our epoch was at a cataclysmic end,
Further and farther did our dreamers seek the surreptitious places, 
A astral vibration inside to the diamond chamber I ascend,
In this ageless sepulcher Neath Atlantis dreaming for the fall 
borne Wormwood beyond cosmic spaces.
Form: Rhyme

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