Long Demesne Poems

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


An Image of Netherworld Envisioned By Mister Misanthrope

Deep within Earthen bowels
immensely distant from sheltering sky
amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape
with here and there a projected
craggy, derelict chasm

precipitously crooked 
rocky claws pointing toward
an infinitely wide yawning abyss
dwelt kindred spirits 

comprising soul asylum
where grateful dead (albeit marked,
via weathered tomb stones) 
hermetically sealed
once vibrant corporeal mortals
betook their eternal slumber.

One among their number
included a misanthrope
who sported long straggly hair
bushy eyebrows shield

ding cold eyes of steel
straggly bearded clammy chin
in tandem with a hairy body
which when alive (long time ago)

upheld upon unshod feet, a severely
hunchbacked cretin
Within dense pitch-black terrain
(Mother Nature enlisting

a menagerie of life forms
accustomed to hellish environment)
awash with unrecognizable
alien sights and sounds

mollycoddling bewitching warlocks,
mailer daemons, trolling trojan horses
imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery
long and fostered Golems

who called underworld
their private demesne
also alluded to Marcy's playground
holding hostage Alice in Chains

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,
The Beastie Boys, Culture Club
The Human League, and
Village People a Crowded House

Emitting wisps of ethereal matter
appearing a small medium at large
chat snap ping, flickr ring 
indeed joyus minions
exalting piety good and plenti.

Prone ounce sing proud purgatory
promoting protean phantasmagoria
hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms
highly distorted grotesque
silent 10,000 maniacs screaming 
sinister semblance to banshees
slithering across escarpment.

Echoing one end of universe to the other
putting to shame initial big bang 
ranking as a mere whimper
that original primordial blast

which cosmological exploits 
generated heavenly sphere instantaneously
comparison viz Krakatoa times Googleplex 
essentially reduced to insignificance
albeit on the analogous tinker toy 
premised conjectures of brilliant minds

could gander feeble educated guesses
asper extraordinary natural phenomena 
mortal mankind could never approximate
as belligerent threats punctuated,
 
via nuclear warfare
merely rates as a flickr 
amidst uber kindle snap chat ting
tinder blinks, extinguishes, 
snuffs out one lowly 
Beatle browed bipedal simian.


Memory Houses Soul Asylum Vestige

Memory houses soul asylum vestige...
where complex edifice once anchoring
venerated Glen Elm demesne once stood,
now nothing except vinyl city!

I recall breathtaking, expansive, incredible
numerous, tremblingly awe inspiring views
billion miles (slight exaggeration) heavenly
sights comfortably ensconced, while perched
high atop sadly long since demolished complex
edifice anchoring Glen Elm demesne – summer

mansion property captain Leiper (circa early
nineteen hundreds) more'n century ago once
encompassing hundred plus acres whittled to
approximately 2.42811 hectares upon purchase
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight by
papa Boyce Brandon Harris, insync with help

courtesy paternal grandpa Aaron Harris, the
former who invested blood, sweat and tears,
when not yoked, tethered, obligated... to
incumbent duties consonant with assignments
linkedin, when gainfully employed as top notch
mechanical engineer at General Electric, he

slaved away gentrifying neglected fixer upper
(matter of fact single handedly reshingled roof)
that same exterior hideaway offering solace
against imprecation, ostracization, ultimatum...
damnation, humiliation, laceration, (albeit verbal
lashing against yours truly), when exhibiting no

motivation to work (courtesy thank debilitating,
immobilizing, paralyzing anxiety/panic attacks),
now though still plagued with same understood
as congenital (possibly in utero) malady, yes an
abominable, execrable, implacable..., nemesis
which unpleasant memories haunt me even to

this day, whereby nothing but utter failure cast
dark shadows analogous to edge of night oft
times accompanied with suicidal ideations,
whereat damned, continually bereft, abysmal
bereft legacy testimony marginally functioning
as the token "scapegoat" throughout twelve

torturous years yielding absolute zero aptitude
unable to comprehend, (I strongly suspect die
hug noses along high functioning autistic
spectrum - case in point youngest of two sweet
progeny (both daughters) afflicted with yepper
aforementioned cognitive learning disability,

she benefited social services since birth, and
can attest to much more positive academic,
and socialization endeavors well on her way
living clear and free empowered at twenty
orbitz round the earth.
Form: Bio

Premium Member If Only For a Day

Serendipity came into play, when I stumbled upon a gallery,
I was a tourist in a seaside town, shopping midst a vast array
while blinding rays of sun’s reflection, caught my close propinquity
In one window, several seascapes, bucolic seaside scenes
but, one small painting called to me,..a harbinger of all my fantasies
I cupped my hands around my eyes...and that was when I sighed....
It took my breath, and I was kept a captive by the artist's pride...

A lovely landscape of a town, the village of my dreams 
This very street now, whence I stand, but from a different theme
Redolent of days erstwhile of scenes, from time quite long ago
Before the tourists trampled ground, and shopped for souvenirs
This village poised, beneath the hills...turned back two hundred years

Where cottage homes wore faded frames, on efflorescence sands 
demesne spreading wild and free, and skies were azure bands
Narrow lanes branched far away from roads that went astray
dipping down to petrichor dunes, where grasses bend in wind
A general store and a blacksmith shop, and summer never ends
Seagulls glide with angel wings, against the afternoon 
The peaceful lift that lives within, how wonderful it looms...

With a dalliance of my own epiphany, ..my thoughts are wild and free
how ephemeral it would be if I could freeze this day
If I could pull it out to see and visit it...again,
If I could bring it back when I am down, ...this peaceful afternoon...

Where leaves would never fall from trees, so ancient in their sway
And the gentle slopes would never know cruel storms of winter days
Where tears would never fall, again, and age, a timeless thing
If I could paralyze this town, the way it was back then
If time could be my captive prize.....if only for awhile…

I'd smile, if once I were allowed, a chance, to step inside




___________________________________________________
3/15/16  For Contest: "A Day In A Town" Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
Required Words Used:
1.Bucolic 2. Dalliance 3. Demesne 4. Efflorescence 5. Ephemeral 6. Epiphany 7. Erstwhile 8. Harbinger 9. Petrichor 10.Propinquity 11.Redolent 12. Serendipity
Form: Narrative

While Shuttered Up Inside

While Shuttered Up Inside... ©ozy
Snug Air Conditioned Demesne...

Analogous to my boyhood
     cosseted and bereft, I assay
to poetically elucidate how majority
     of mine years found me
     deft keeping danger at bay
only thru the pour substitute
     of my imagination
     remaining safe within the causeway

of a quasi Norman Rockwell picturesque
     unblemished near utopian day,
where trumped up "FAKE" danger
     stoked courtesy of
     anticipatory anxiety didst essay
when pinhead size
     pores faux stressed
     every epidermal square inch

     populating skin oozing perspiration
     along I-59 pro Roman
     lix spittle sweaty freeway
precipitated, via illusory mailer daemons
     unavoidably pitching me
     into an inescapable fray
unlike late twenty somethings
     (Jay Austin and Lauren Geoghegan,

     whose cruel fate
     at the hands of Isis militants
     published online by Irish Times),
evinced carpe diem
     existential Great Gatsby
live life to the fullest
     created an extraordinary journey
     (now forever immortalized as

     daring adventurist trekkers)
     with ample horseplay
deliberately, egregiously, fanatically
and wantonly killed, 
     when purely exalting in zest
promulgated by indomitable spirit
     found me choked up,
     a baby boomer i.e. west

tern civilized married bloke,
     who opted to die vest
away from blatant uncertainty
     never daring to experience unrest
outside a severely circumscribed perimeter,
     exempt from a life
     and death litmus test,
where very little harm extant,

     when taking repast or rest
only ushering, venturing,
     and taking, sans
     quotidian cerebral quest
ensconced within four walls
     without nary a pest
except...pet peeves of mine
     within psyche built a nest,

nonetheless hounded by many a vicious beast
whose predatory cannibalistic feast
comprises thine psychological state greased
with until mortality expires,
     asper being temporarily lend leased.

Premium Member Sad Farewell Seated

............. 
                                                                   ....     ........
                                                                hushed whispers...
                                                                  slammed on the .........
                                                            window pane, shadow
                                                 forged with swaying impulses
                                             echoes of this morning.  Previous night   
                                         Under a single old solitary demesne..I...
                                       shouted the summer tune                     ../
                                     drizzle, sealed within my soul 
                                  Indelibly, Endless no longer exists
                                 shed among the jumble of bytes
                               our sprawled glimpses         Beyond the  
                            long-standing weave. You felt             without
                          a goodbye... and I stood there...            serene   
                        of suffocating embers,    its hefty kernels
                      strewn throughout the hues of life.     The stars
                   * no longer      share my space,   amidst hollowness 
               *     behind every shooting star's trail
             *    Every morning I get up in dread. 
              /----------------------- \             of missing to
            /                                   \          **hear    
           /                                      \      YOUR  
          /                                         \          last words
         /                                            \      YOUR
        /                                               \         probable parting
       /                                                  \
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Shape


Premium Member A Symphony of Sunset

Written: September 08, 2023
Sunsets Poetry Contest                   Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
_____________________________________________________________

In September golden day, so glorious and beamy,
As twilight stains the sky, a cynosure so dreamy.
Dusk abides, effulgent hues ignite the land,
And felicity abounds as we bask in daylight's sleek hand.

Penumbra kisses the horizon, casting a mellifluous spell,
Fugacious twinkles, as erstwhile avian dwell.
A demesne of pastures, comely and calm,
Where halcyon trees sway to the riparian psalm.

Harbingers of sunset, sunburnt and diaphanous,
Serenade the land with their soothing lullaby chorus.
Vesper whispers skid, such an elixir so tall,
Glamour and silence embrace, as the trees do enthrall.

In this bucolic scene, dulcet and radiant,
The purple hues paint a landscape so vibrant.
Slumber approaches, as the red heat fades 
Epiphany dawns, a dramatic parade.

The horizon ablaze with refulgent light,
Lurid flames of passion, inflamed and bright.
Beaming through the breeze, the sundown delight,
A spectacular event, incandescence ignites the night.

As the gloaming swings to night, a symphony unfolds,
A dance of shades and emotions, stories yet untold.
In the afterglow, the world retreats,
To a striking melody, where each note meets.

Splendiferous sunset, resplendent and grand,
The nighttime sky bestirs, a resounding band.
Evenfall descends, with its dark flame,
A splendid display, a sight to acclaim.

The striking hues, such a painting divine,
Illuminate the darkness, with a radiant shine.
The nighttime sky, a tapestry of wonder and delight,
A symphony of colors, painting the night.

The evenfall whispers a tale so sweet,
As the moon rises, the night's heartbeat.
A symphony of silence, embraced by the dark,
A peaceful retreat, where dreams embark.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Myth

An orphaned paradise where wounded feet
Must hymn the breath which gave it life and light
Despairs for harmonies which subtly meet
In whirlpools where bright genii wake to fight. 

Asleep along the foaming shore there lie
Two citadels whose strong foundations greet
A conscience winged in victory, which flies
Above this land where will and passion meet. 

An islet, solitudinous and mute, 
Has harbored, for a thousand years, a man
Whose life has flown on wings of plaintive lute
While thirsting for the world from which he ran. 

On promontories whence he peers aloof
Toward the azure sphere of mortal drift,
He mourns his youth, his joy and treasured roof
Where he received his first and dearest gift. 

How could he leave and then to Earth descend?
Though he was blessed with endless life and sight
Of what betides his kin where Death attends,
He pines to see the sun’s absolving light. 

With bashful moves and longing, he comes down
From his abode to where he meets the edge
Of Life’s demesne, created with a frown
To wear dull immortality’s sharp edge. 

He peers below, where lovers live in peace,
And takes a step across dark heaven’s brink,
While angels shudder as their fears increase:
Their master’s jaunt may cause the realm to sink. 

His gaze observes the world around, yet not
A sight presents itself to sate his thirst,
For—long ago—the race of men forgot
His name and will, and all his writs reversed. 

Though mortals bow their heads, they do not know
What power has descended to their realm
And, as he looks around, they flee and grow
Alarmed at what they cannot overwhelm. 

Yet one disdainful face comes forth and grins
While clasping the old master’s haloed head:
“You fool!”—cries Death—“You want men for their sins!”
His scythe then lashes off and God is dead.

Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Form: Rhyme

Like a Fire Cat Teaser Taste of Spring

Like A Fire Cat - Teaser Taste Of Spring...
Did Fistbump With Ole Man Winter

Once again, this fella alights
this poetaster and trots out weather,
nope not cuz freezing cold bites,
this poetic instance highlights
spate of unseasonably warm temperatures

circa early February 2019,
melting oppressive plights,
whereby totally tubular solar balm
energizes and alights
to zoom into heavenly heights

pleasantly zapping dendrites
with heaven sent
sunny rays, which excites
every fiber of this fella, writes,
a diametrically opposite

meteorological pleasure
pitch perfect to fly kites
versus torturous blast, sans
polar vortex arctic
cold one futilely fights,

where no complaint as
ecstasy knows no heights,
asper in above average winter
cathartically, holistically,
therapeutically... quiets

cabin fever with sneak
preview of summer -
skipping over stone temple rites
of spring despite dramatic
unseasonably warm weather

this anomaly nonetheless delights
this wordsmith voluntarily
holed up days and nights
from bone chilling, crushing brutal
(cudgel wielding) cold

understandably inducing flights
of fantasy imagining
(like...just yesterday)
hightailing to tropical
island paradise sights

blinds this sun worshipper
twittering revelling,
basking with robins
noah matter an old gipper

slakes insatiable thirsts
nsync with teetotaling
brewster herbalist honeydripper
ah... methinks this clime
makes me chipper

recalling good ole times
feeling like a day tripper
sprawled out atop roofed mansion
fronting happy hunting grounds
upon memory steadfast gripper

amidst haunting demesne
of "Glen Elm" transformed
courtesy where backhoes did stripper
of native flora and fauna
into ticky tack vinyl city for hipper
crats all in the name of progress!
Form: Pastoral

Premium Member Growing Up

Written: November 07, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
                __________________________________________

Felicity In the flamboyant form of yesteryear.
Where giggles pranced and frightened fear.
I yearn to revert to those idyllic, carefree days.
As we swung in the blazing sunlight, rays

Oh, the town pool, our hot-season delight.
By such lofty slides, our zeal soared to blight.
Joyfully shrieking as we swam into the water.
Putting dear stories to ride us as marauders

An enchanted event: the regional fair.
Walking in tandem and flying by the air.
Puffy white haze with a swirl of vivid shade
Riding provided us with an unending glade.

As trends glide to the wide sky's demesne
In saffron light, a tale of growing up in a den
Lacking worldly care, we wander afar and wide.
Dispelling frets, embracing one's fremd side.

As if a few seeds were buried in the ground.
We start our trek by pursuing our pound.
We roam the earth with wonder as our guide.
Rising to our dreams and acquiring their pride

A fascinating game, Ghost in the Graveyard
frenetic scurrying, hiding, and yelling pards.
We frolic under the moon watchful gaze.
Until dawn, I was lost in the gloomy phase.

The sole dollar I got on my card was fabulous.
Heaps to buy a huge box of dime candy pabulous.
Oh, how I'd scramble there, swiftly, then quick.
desperate craving for every single caramel stick.

But as the years went by, I began to realize,
Indulging in sweets came with a price.
The licorice and chocolate, once my delight,
Now haunted my health, day and night.

Every action is a learning experience.
Whipping tight modus and feeling delirious
From injuries, both physical and emotional.
Every role imparts wisdom and is devotional.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Verity and Vanity

Written: September 15, 2023
______________________________________________________________

In a cosmic world where marvels dwell,
There lies a well where truth does swell.
Under the surface of the cultural tide,
Dissemination of erudition, hence and wide.

Yet, amidst the waves, dishonesty lingers.
Distorting the successful and the weaker
Be empowered to deceive and ensconce.
An idealistic facade where virtue is sparse.

But in the depths of this deceitful sea,
An epiphany awaits, for all to foresee.
A childhood memory of chastity and bliss
That truth was pure, and deceit was dismissed.

A poisonous world may shroud the mind.
But the wonders of verity forever shall bind.
Akin to pollinating bees on a kinetic canvas,
Seeking nectar from flowers is so vast thus. 

In this meadow of erudition, we yearn to descry,
The ageless wisdom is unflawed and comply.
In the well of truth, we perceive the light,
Ushering us through the gloomiest night.

Oh, how avarice can pinch and sting.
But verity embrace is an everlasting thing.
It displays the world with hues bright,
Cleansing the soul and bringing forth delight.

In this enormous depth of a world so sumptuous
Let verity be the criterion, the steady unctuous.
In its embrace, we descry our demesne way,
Navigating through every ephemeral day
 
In the depths of the well, we espy our worth,
A vestige of our genuine niche on earth.
To quest for knowledge, to master, and to grow
To endorse the elision and veracity within us flow.

And it is on this jaunt that we shall arrive.
A candid and guileless mind is graceful to thrive.
Let us, then, face the mysteries that await us.
And acquiesce in the core of verity to emerge, thus.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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