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.
A pair of forceps the size of food tongs
turned off one light in my two room watch tower.
In those days Grizzly bears were called eye surgeons.
I did not see half the world slip away
over my left shoulder.
A cyclopean tunnel forgot it was ever
able to swivel eyeballs and see around
the edges of a circle.
It’s all fish-eyes under an arched bridge now.
As long as a telescope is applied to the correct frontal lobe
my bullet-shaped sight can punch holes through perception
just as well as any less precise cannonball.
Both Bach and Handel went blind under the helping hands
of one surgeon who’s name history has long forgot.
Even though their eyes were dimming
their music shone all the brighter.
Poetry is its own on-man-band,
it makes its own music even in the darkest cave.
Abattoir, thy cover black:
Written in red blood:
Spells within thy fabled stack?
Mud, become a flood.
Now to brew some trouble, sirs!
Grab some land up high!
Mother Entropy murmurs!
Chaos, keeping dry?
Unleash the primal forces!
O rivers, running red?
Looking dark in our sources!
Humanity, bed!
Tympani, tornado.
Quahog clam, pie of quince.
Groundhog, shadow? Even so.
Four leaf clover mints.
Raspberry bush, hollyhock.
Gather well, honeybee.
Belladonna, blighted balk.
Vile the vintage, flea.
Schedule, on the third weekday.
Doom and disarray.
Debts cyclopean, repay.
Help them lose their way.
Dismay, dismantling. Starling:
Mournfully sheep sing.
Monsters love. To altar bring.
Machine, maddening...
Sting of sadness, great is grief.
Strong beyond belief!
Lawyer, judge, thy legal brief?
Coral, build a reef.
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...
An amber moon rises...
Hanging at the Edge of the World.
Against that oily old black sky;
Heaven's Infinite Stage.
Its Grace is old and precise.
A curious, hue of Cyclopean pyres,
slicing the Waning Orb, high!
It emerges to start the Ancient Night.
A cycle as old and eternal as Time.
As inevitable as Death.
As the empty vault of heaven is illuminated
by the amber moon of winter's Icy Eminence
it waltz's the seas of Dreams. Precise!
Darkness sparkles with the sliver of the sun's reflection...
All are awash on celestial seas,
sparkling crystal waves crash on brilliant shores.
On Heaven's Infinite stage
an amber moon reaches its zenith...
At the edge of
Heaven's Eternal Black Sea!
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
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!
As Samuel saw vaulted Xanadu of Kublai Khan fame
In smoke-filled corridors of sweat-drenched Opium-eaters
Did I spy a vision so surreal as to render all my sentient senses to nought
And to replace them with a miasma of arcane thoughts.
I glimpsed of things most unimagined through vaporous clouds
Of effulgent smoke from wampums more confusing
than the peace of amity that it connoted.
Through numbing mind yet not fully suppressed
I beheld many-pillared corridors in a dazzling sequence
Of multi-hued columns - Doric, Ionian and Corinthian.
And through this tortuous labyrinthine maze ran
A languorous limpid stream off a meander
From an ox-bow lake, with a murmurous mutter
As it hop scotched the rifts on the floor.
With Cyclopean vision, floating wraith-like, in the distance
I beheld a dazzling high-domed hall,
The dazzle from a myriad gorgeous maidens
Each draped in dresses so diaphanous as to defy its definition!
And a prima donna sang in sonorous counterpoint to the susurration of the stream.
From up on high like a falcon flighted,
In anachronistic contrast I verily beheld
A jeaned and jacketed - Angelina Jolie!
It was then that I confirmed to myself -
My mind had truly busted!
PRAYER II
Oh LORD, give me the force to withstand the
Cyclopean waves of human hypocrisy and malice.
Make me strong as to endure the suffering inflicted
By the knives of hatred and inconsideration
Which
Constantly pierce my heart, so as not to seek revenge
But only to demonstrate affection,
And finally, oh, LORD, let your divine love
Pass through my bleeding wounds and heal them in
Such a degree as,
In a place where insensitive people wished to
Plant the malevolent seed of vice,
Your glorious tree of virtue flourishes instead.
Amen!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
Oh LORD,
Give me the force to withstand the
Cyclopean waves of human hypocrisy and malice.
Make me strong as to endure the suffering inflicted
By the knives of hatred and inconsideration which
Constantly pierce my heart, so as not to seek revenge
But only affection.
And finally, oh LORD, let your divine love pass
Through my bleeding wounds to heal them in
Such a degree as in the place where insensitive people
Wanted to plant the malevolent seed of vice,
Your glorious tree of virtue, to flourish instead.
Amen!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
17 July 2020
effervescent swirling clouds
in turquoise summer skies
float like flocks of fair sheeps
in far away exuberant fields
beneath are cyclopean cypresses
touching celestial bosom
in deep periwinkle and corn flower
whilst wheat fields
are golden fleece
waltzing with the west wind
oh, how can I forget
the paradisiacal poppies
sitting placidly along the wayside
like your eyes glisten
in your pensive mood
unaware of my presence
9 March 2021
Notes:A Wheatfield with Cypresses is any of three similar 1889 oil paintings by Vincent van Gogh, as part of his wheat field series. All were exhibited at the Saint-Paul-de-Mausole mental asylum at Saint-Rémy near Arles, France, where Van Gogh was voluntarily a patient from May 1889 to May 1890. The works were inspired by the view from the window at the asylum towards the Alpilles mountains.(Photo and info credits to Wikipedia)
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