Long Demeans Poems
Long Demeans Poems. Below are the most popular long Demeans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Demeans poems by poem length and keyword.
Daring Universe, Shines Its Glow On Earth
Daring universe, shine its glow on earth
Child prays for all of its pitiful worth
Poverty born, yet bestowed with a gift
Sweet blessing to write verses that uplift
Travelling a road, hardship holding sway
Each morn, her sincerest prayers she would pray.
Blessed, those our Lord holds so very dear
Life's victims broke and living in great fear
Oft alone, against cruel world they face
Living in rags, names easy to erase
No soft, gentle kiss each night before bed
Often so hungry having not been fed.
Looking at a hungry dawn, hope a loss
Dark and savage old world gives not a toss
Shivering, no heat to warm from the cold
Child crying in pain, eleven years old
Begging universe today please be kind
Let father today, some paying work find.
Watching as mother wash torn clothes by hand
Falling tears, often more than child can stand
Pitiless world races without a care
As weeping child looks on in stone-face stare
Seeing life give others fine, sweeter gifts
Child begins writing verses to uplift.
As blessing of poetry, was there born
Life soon starts to be less dark and forlorn
Pencil and paper found to be fine gifts
Words cast to apathetic world uplift
Dawn soon comes as a treasure of bright light
Life improves, as deep fear comes not each night.
Universe sees and sends forth its soft glow
Further true gifts, it may choose to bestow
World finds needed warmth in her golden pen
Her verse becomes famous in world of men
Life had once gave just enough to survive
In her heart, again hope it did revive.
As years flew on by, her pen cast truest ink
Poetry born to cause readers to think
Of the universe and its saddest cold
Shivering to child, eleven years old
And her words asking for kindness and love
In dark universe and heavens above.
With pen she had blazed forth bolder, new trail
With brave heart, she had chosen not to fail
Sincere prayer and poetry gave hope
That Light could penetrate life's darkest scope
Where a child's sweet innocence could be seen
Gifts then given, those dark world so demeans.
Narrative
8/21/2019
My cocoon tightens –colors tease
I am feeling for the air
A dim capacity for wings
Demeans the dress I wear
1099 - Emily Dickinson
Butterfly- A Glosa
My potential, held in a chrysalis,
I hide within a shadowed niche,
safe from mischief and the curious,
time stands still for my strange seed.
Buds of my wings, flimsy as flowers,
grow from leaf nectar with ease.
In grub miasma I am geometry concealed;
a rainbow of speckles
secretly forming in tiny degrees.
My cocoon tightens- colors tease.
Outside a gentle, scented atmosphere,
stirs memories of my once, segmented self,
sucked to wind tossed leaves, green
of their green, protected by dapple;
a puzzle of leafy camouflage.
I gorged there, naked and bare,
then wove around me a fine cocoon,
I was the spinner, and the loom,
quietly suspended now I must dare.
I am feeling for the air.
I am feeling for the sun,
cell by cell, a squeezing permutation
diligently shedding grub matter.
A framework, a pattern, a nectar tongue
coiled for long throats of flowers to come,
poised for pastoral whisperings
I struggle to unfold.
A magic, a beauty stunningly brief,
I hold, like all mystical things,
a dim capacity for wings.
My feelers, living dopplers’ vibrate
I shimmer, transparent gossamer.
I gather energy, I tremble for flight,
I tumble with garden blest wings.
A brief portrayal of immortal life,
is part of the nature I bear.
I flitter, I flutter I seem to be aimless,
a symbol of ever-returning things.
Only the fragile and delicate flower,
demeans the dress I wear.
For Line’s “ A Stunner 2017 Contest
The Glosa is a Spanish form based on taking 4 lines by another poet and expanding the theme.
I have entered this in 3 or more contests and was NA’d EVERY time.
Applicable Not Applicable Contests
Contest Judged: 6/2/2019 2:03:00 PM
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
Placed 3rd
Salt of The Earth
Ordinary people
That’s who we are
Our triumphs
Our sacrifices
Loves
And torments
Go unsung
For the most part
Un-noticed by anyone
Ordinary people
Who’s lives may have suffered tradgedy
Quite sperate
From the world of celebrity
Who’s weight loss and weight gain
Who’s lives are sucked up
So avidly
Un-famous
Un-important
That’s what we are
Un-recognised heroines
And heroes
People that the world
Never knows
This celebrity culture
Demeans us
Turn our lives
To a paultry plethora
Of existence
Devoid of the glitter and pomp
Of celebrity red carpet
TV show sold money
Our faces un-immortalised
In the applause
Of the overpaid and wealthy
Of yet another publicity stunts
Awards
Our lives a mere daily
Rigmarol of mediocrity
As we dine on the scraps
Of news and gossip
Of the purile insignificance
Of celebrity
Ordinary people
That’s who we are
The un-discovered heroes
And heroines
Who’s backs and sweat
Hold up the scaffolding
Of the bright shinning
Neon distraction
Media circus
World of celebrity
Politicians
Models
Muscicians
Actors
Football players
All raking the cream
Which belongs to
Firemen
Cops
Nurses
And Doctors
Road sweepers
Trash collectors
Husbands
Fathers
Wives
Mothers
Making their lives ends meet
And staying afloat
Facing each day
Heroines and heroes
Of the common all
And for the common good
Though bemused and belittled
Misinformed
Mislead
And lied to
Still we emerge
As the salt of the Earth
Just ordinary
People
This poem was prompted by the recent death of celebrity Jade Goody, a tragedy indeed. I am
sure she will be sorely missed by her family. As will all the other ordinary people who
passed on recently, be missed by their families.
Kiss of Judas, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Le Baiser de Judas by T. Wignesan
In our century where one sells father and mother
Husband his wife and wife her husband
And who doesn’t with ease dispose the only brother
Gives up yet two scorched by blade and fire
Of course breath comes hard to him who thus
Horribly heartless sacrifices his friend
But efforts turn to Nought before man comes of age
Who without remorse at first is forced to vomit
Disembowelled in one’s own mummified body
No one’s spared by the multitude
Which draws us into it all like an epidemic
Each is smothered in the crowd as in the prison cell
All become lambs : who’s to be betrayed first
Under constant surveillance yet others to victimise
Each spies within the circle surrounding him
His soul lives stuck to the peephole
And if while in their midst they catch him in the act
To punish him they give him up to the Law
Thus every man in the steps of an apostle
Seeking to be approved worships the Law
The great one-eyed lady
The arrogant goddess
Whoever stands for such justice demeans his spirit
And creates in us a vile and villainous heart
In the name of the men of law and the public force
All functionaries like you and I
In this Darkness where Emptiness reigns supreme
I mete justice out to Judas
What he did he did for me
So that I might in turn do the same
Kissing the forehead in good faith
To such as he all over the earth
Every day umpteen times I vow
The mecanical anger
Of the labourers of the Law
(from Pierre Emmanuel’s Les Jours de la Passion)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 11, 2014
Trumps Wall
He boasts
Walls he shall build
With his generals
More weapons for the King of the Hill
Sowing hate and creating
Fascist dreams
He divides and demeans all those
Who share not his vile power dreams
I have news and its foxy news too
He can have his walls, and his shiny shoes
Hate and fear will never triumph
Trumps wall will stumble and fall
There is a secret army
Hidden under his little hands and pudgy nose
This army will defeat any wall
No matter how big, and no matter how tall
These little soldiers come from here and there
They shall stand up, were sometimes adults stall
They shall make the wall
Something Trump hadn’t thought of at all
A place to rally, a place to dance
They shall write their messages with
Love and smiles, inked with paint
They shall embrace the world
Walls and all! No giant can stop them all
Notes: He (Trump) sounds a lot like a cave man I know. Ha ha
There is no such thing as racism; we are all ONE race the human race. Racism is simply hate guised under another name.
This poem is dedicated to Kids United and specifically to the song
“On Ecrit Sur Les Murs” which means “ we write on the walls “ Even if you don’t speak French or cant read at all for that matter, the video carries the message. On a completely separate note I found a spelling error in the New York Times. Oh my! LOL
I encourage all to listen to more of their songs.
Frost Like Filigree
Frost filigree, superb can be
as nature weaves crystal delights.
With varied lacey forms, we see
sculpture sparked by lights.
'Neath sun or moon, artwork alights;
the glistened shapes show artfully
presenting joy within our sights.
Ice clings, designs so perfectly,
as each drop freezes and unites
to form creative artistry...
sculpture sparked by lights.
--------
Frost filagree, can't always please
as nature weaves her dark displays;
a fireman works in 'teen degrees
caught in icy-glaze.
As hoses combat the hot blaze
the water flows to quickly freeze.
'Tween flames of fire and ice he stays.
Thick lacey chunks his helmet seize
and turns his gear to frozen phase.
So many nights spent ill at ease
caught in icy-glaze.
--------
Frost filagree presents some scenes
of icy sculptures that bring pain,
for left without heat often means
leaving home again.
Poor tenants live with heat arcane
that fails when wintertime convenes;
so often help is sought in vain.
Abandoned rooms with icy sheens...
frost filagree, a massive plane.
This winter wonder now demeans...
leaving home again.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: The Magic of Three
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 02/11/2018
In twilight shadows, where moonbeams weep,
I fell to madness, in love's darkest sleep.
Head over heels, in bat crazy flight,
I plunged to depths, where mortal hearts take flight.
With eyes like lanterns, in a midnight storm,
You lit the shadows, where my demons swarmed.
I thought I'd found solace, in love's morbid grasp,
But you were the surgeon, who'd cut my heart's last gasp.
You reached within my ribs, with skeletal hands,
And ripped my heart out, still beating, still in pain's lands.
A ghastly extraction, in love's cruelest jest,
Confirming the verdict, of a heart forever abandoned.
I knew I was broken, a vessel of shattered dreams,
a ruin where love dares not go, a place where nightmares fester surrounded by haunting blood curteling screams.
You tore what I wanted most from me, i scream in silence dispute the pain, for I am too broken, for love's true touch, my chest hollow a place where no love remained
Now in the darkness, my heart's hollowed grave,
Echoes with whispers, of a love that drove me insane.
The moon above mourns, with a cypress tree's sway,
For a love that's lost in the shadows, no hope remains.
In this Gothic night, where shadows dance like fiends,
My heart's a relic, of a love that love itself demeans.
You left me hollow, a husk of what I'd been,
A monument to madness, where love's corpse rots unseen. what's next remains to be unseen.
THE BARE INFINITIVE
Look: up above the stratosphere
Outside the earth's blanket veneer
Beyond planets stars and galaxy
Past even faintest nebulae
Far from the pull of gravity
Free of Dark Matter's hidden vector
In existential cavity
Untied to any spacial sector
All human weakness risen above
In solo freedom primitive
Beyond the bonds of hate or love
There sits the Bare Infinitive
No cares nor problems, fears nor pains
But there's one question that remains
From Liberty, took a blessed kiss?
Or to false seductive promise succumb
Is he in sublime unfettered bliss?
Or formless, endless tedium
COROLLARY - The Meaning of Life
So perforce the very asking of the question
May reveal the answer to that greater plea
Why suffer slings and arrows, pains, anguish, oppression
When we might, by NOT opposing, be set free
The gloomy prince omitted consequence unsaid
In agonising on the walls of Elsinore
Endless nothingness holds nought for us but dread
Perchance to dream preferred to void; that we abhor
Thus life’s meaning may be: to be within a life
Then if we also have a purpose vied with strife
Result: interest, time, curiosity, interaction and aim
Or the elements of what we call: A Game.
Lest you think this demeans Creation to mere caprice
Then observe to be the player, not the piece.
24 May 2019
A slice of Americana
love their Mar-a-Lago cream cheese pastry
immorality a lot
They crave their leadership cake ...
spin-sugar batter laced,
full of vulgarities and obscenities
in a profanity pot
Call truth to them:
this is guaranteed to give your soul gut rot
Response be a fork crooked limb:
give us another slice please, we love it a lot!
Politically incorrect gluttonous fake bakery eaters
admire a misogynist strong, dictatorial leader
Someone who demeans women,
flush their feminine dignity down the toilet
Strip their honor bare and sewage transport it
Mar-a-Lago Café got a line out the door
that adore the pungent immorality smell of this
Let Trump blow freedom a snot rag kiss,
Mr. Booga Man do autocratic Aryan insist
Sour cream de la spoiled cheese,
oh how they love it so ...
Begging the Prez Fuhrer’s pardon, yo —
they’re neo-Nazi-ing for another slice please
Getting soul gout ...
selling their empty calories
conservative principles out
Mar-a-Lago decadent immorality
served by the hateful spoonful, no doubt
Cream cheese colored bigotry
Very Berry White crooning
on the karaoke vanilla jukebox grapevine
Take one last slice before democracy closing time
But you didn’t hear it from us black raisins,
standing in the back of a separate cafeteria line
*Based on Plato's Allegory of the Cave
Numb fists with bloody wrists
chained to crumbling walls.
Glazed eyes that never spy
a single truth or fault.
Dim light impairing sight
in spaces dark and shallow.
Stone walls where lies are scrawled
by murky phantom shadows.
One breaks free on frail knees
stiffened by disuse,
to leave behind the dumb and blind
who welcome this abuse.
He climbs in pain against the grain
toward a distant light.
With bloodied hands, he finally stands,
exhausting all his might.
Dazed at first, he's cursed by thirst
beneath the blazing sky.
The sun is bright and plunders sight
from eyes too dry to cry.
Lesions crust as eyes adjust
to find a foreign land
with greenest grass and sea like glass
caressing strips of sand.
He stands amazed before this maze
of truths he's never seen
and vows to save those in the cave
whose ignorance demeans.
When he returns, his words are spurned
by those chained to the wall.
They have no will to brave that hill
or risk the chance to fall.
He cannot go back to this show
of living shadowed lies.
Now that he knows the truth below,
he needs the open skies.
And so he climbs to search, to find
the knowledge that he craves.
No more a slave to the dark cave.
He's left that mindless grave.