Long Description Poems
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I'm eating a hot dog for breakfast
With mustard and ketchup
Watching lecture 18 of
'How to Listen to & Understand Opera'
Sometimes it's pain au chocolat,
But I'm in pain getting in the car at
6:41am; I drive in the darkness
Cuckoos, frightened birds,
Donkey-Jupiter, hurdy-gurdy
Tears, sorrow, cries
I hear the clouds -
See a chariot drawn by two frogs
I say out loud, "That's a mad silhouette of a person."
Such a description may well give the
Impression that the Earth is out of sorts
And every morning, this is the
Birth of comedy
I check the football news
There was a punch-up at the end of yesterday's game.
"Look how happy the crowd is to see a man being strangled."
The pig is in the poke.
(which above frolicsome gambit I mastered)
After mine wife
asks for this, that
or something else rife
with intent to provide barrel of laughs,
(likened to barrel of monkeys)
yours truly crafts
description how we share mirth
validating how our respective worth
matters each to the other acting childlike
to stave off altercations
that might come down figurative pike
worst case scenario whereby I strike
mine steadfast fine
(prairie home) companion.
Neither rules nor regulations exist
to our made up silly game
whereby whenever
one of us knowingly reaches out
to latch hold of desired item
specified by name,
the other person feigns to hand over
then pulls back same
alluded to object
held aloft (think
non verbal teasing banter)
said motions sustained
moments before until...
participant/ recipient
(trying in vain to grab
their coveted cherished
jackknifed prized possession)
becomes angry as raging bull.
Ofttimes when I pretend to surrender
that specific something sought after
by her royal highness prefers advanced version,
she doth lapse into her guttural patois,
which scrambled, throttled, and vocalized
(back of the throat utterances)
metrically syncopated
(couching unspoken) unclear clues
her primal wordless request
vaguely analogous
to decipher cryptograms,
whereby, I learned to look for patterns.
Yesteryear selective pastimes
whiling away hours
included many a cognitively
challenging endeavors
comprising decoding enigmatic
intriguing looking English language riddles
located within entertainment section
of The Philadelphia Inquirer
no I could never solve sudoku,
but eldest daughter (Eden Liat -
yea "star student" who matriculated
and graduated summa cum laude
courtesy University of Pennsylvania
breezed thru those logic-based,
combinatorial number-placement puzzle.
How bland a marriage devoid of non
establishmentarian activities, none
of which include physical intimacy,
cuz me libido indeed went deep south
linkedin with half dozen plus medications
yours truly readily swallows
prescribed medication to alleviate
mental health issues such as:
anxiety, obsessive compulsive behavior,
palmar hyperhidrosis,
mild depression et alia.
Patradoot or The Messenger30 /Many
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
How beautiful is my city Prayag*, dear letter,
Which enchants the visitors and enthralls,
By the lovely simplicity of its houses,
And the warmth of the hearts of its dwellers.
Amid the doors and windows of its houses,
You would find sweet and cool breeze blowing,
And a serene happiness you would find,
On the faces of its lovely citizens. dear.
You would find the people of this city,
Full of patience and quite energetic,
By the time you would reach,
The place near my door, dear letter.
DESCRIPTION OF THE DWELLING HOUSE
To get released from the custody of the Postman,
You will go in his hand, dear letter,
Thus you will get the chance to get free,
To convey my message to my beloved.
Among the beautiful loving inhabitants,
Of my place, known as Bharti Bhavan,
You would see they love their friend’s life even,
More preciously then their own, dear letter.
Ravindra
Kanpur 21st August 2010. to continue in 31
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Clarifications:
* Prayag Allahabad is also know as Prayag or Triveni. And Allahabad is the
most ancient city of India,
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
No Mickey, Minnie, or Goofy- no Jimmy The Cricket
The spirit of Sodom is Gomorrah...what I see is plain "Wicked"
Neon lit buildings and business bright nights...
A terse description of 8th Ave - I see somethings not right
Jailbait pimps fishing for girlish age bodies
Port of Authority freaks craving school boy young hotties
A bunco, a scam - the cards of "Monte" are three...
White kids from Jersey seeking fake/fresh Ids
Cabbies waiting for fares/get their plates/it's too late
Little courtesy or English and overpriced rates
Electronic stores, you have restaurants; a myriad of stands
that vend snacks
You can have a wad roll of money, yet still looked at if Black
The Homeless Are Human, it's the truth not conjecture
It seems to keep them sans housing gives Midtown its texture
Fleabag hotels are great bargains/I've heard there's four legged pests
You've paid your money - there's danger, but you still can't have guests
Mounted units, Blue grunts to keep the rich ones protected
The last Toe Tag said "No One", why wasn't that crime detected?
A Vagrant says that he's hungry to everyone that he greets
You can't see the flame touch the Pyrex/it's the crack that he eats
On the trains I see animals, sometimes you'd think a new species
Most of those stations need cleaning....in my sight Human Feces
Poetiq visions/my heart troubled/ I had no choice but expound
It goes down daily in the Crab Apple/New York City....Midtown
A Pitch black scratched night full of grays, alone in a hut
Far away from the sun. A night of pure terror surrounded by
Whispering voices and all l could notice a pair of dizziness smoke
With opposite meanings.
Fiery shivering sweating like l am standing
In the middle of a thunderstorm rainfall holding a piece of a very dried wood.
Gust increased my fear, the action begins. An empty house nowhere to hide
Haunted house, scary movements scarecrow in the backyard
Sounds of opening graves Ghosts and brooms flying which evil witches
Ride when looking for fresh bloody like mine.
L saw bloody pallid long hands trying to reach me, even a voice to scream none
L could produce a mirror of a broken piano, a single press collapse to no existence.
Big eyes of red, big two ivory like horns Ghost’s goblin devil easy description.
At almost being touched fainted collapsed l don’t know Enchanting and scary scene
a full bag make me brag and long for next Halloween.
I gazed upon the familiar dirt road, partially submerged in the narrow ditch.
Every inch of its hardened surface was damp to the touch, causing my lips to tremble with uncertainty.
The darkness that surrounded me felt imbued with mysterious enchantment, reminiscent of soft white magnolias and crushed velvet.
Within the confines of my bedroom at night, a silence hung in the air, as if it resided within the very essence of my home.
I had learned to cease my futile resistance, for all that remained was a chilling anticipation, saturated with cold moisture.
No one seemed to believe that I had no control over the forces that resided within me.
My gothic neighbor, however, provided an explanation: during these prolonged encounters, it was best to refrain from taking any action.
Each rose, with its firm grip, filled my entire being, as if it had made a conscious decision.
In the depths of my inner mind, I warned myself not to find pleasure in this experience, likening it to the pressure that opens soft nuts.
It felt as though I were perpetually falling, searching for the perfect description.
Like a mighty wave retreating to the shore too soon, its impact was only felt on the inside of my thigh and lower leg, where it converged.
Time after time, in every direction imaginable, it pushed aside all illumination, focusing solely on the scorching heat deep within me.
Life is too short, and night, with its clandestine nature, becomes a song I keep secretly hidden within myself.
The night sky, adorned with brilliantly burning stars, witnessed the moon elevated high above, isolated from the rest.
Each night, I engaged in a wrestle with these forces, akin to slender tall trees releasing their grip on green verdant leaves.
As sleep overcame me, wide awake, I could not speak of that.
“ I can only Imagine YOUR outside Beauty ;YOUR Seraph Face
I can only Imagine the flutter of my Heartbeat, in Your embrace”
The emotions emerging from YOUR pen
True Love: feelings that one can not pretend
A Dedication : Honor to my Wife
A passionate description of my life
My Heart;”Forever” Belongs to LENORE
Your POEM sends me adrift, to Heaven’s Shore
I travel through Life’s tumultuous Storm
Thank-YOU Barbara for keeping me warm
“I can only Imagine the Heavenly Light emitting from YOUR Soul
I can only Imagine giving YOU a hug from the center of my Soul”
Inspired by and Dedicated to Barbara Gorelick
Written for Tracy Decker’s Contest RSVPoetry
This POEM is in Response to Barbara Gorelick’s Dedication POEM “ Forever "
P.S Please Read Raul Moreno’s Dedication POEM “ A Cruise of Dreams “
Her Father was the Creator
Of the heavens and the earth
He gave her all of creation
Then, in time, He gave her
His word
The Bible was His precious
Book – of grace, faith and hope
Sprinkled in Love beyond measure
Love that could even be heard
In the scriptures He breathed
Light onto everything
His gift was more than blessing
It was wise beyond description
It was inspiration and enlightenment
A gift of purity and affection
Bringing life that was a living word
Written by inspired authors
Who knew she would soon need
This gift that surpassed her
Wildest dreams
Her Father gave her a book
And it was a book of wisdom and truth
Grace bound it up in love
And prayer brought it to birth
All her heart’s hopes and desires
Her belief was like a warm fire
Sending tingles of love through her soul
And capturing her spirit in an embrace
From the psalms and praises
Flowing through the ink in His gift
The Word of God is alive
Breathing out passion for Him
The greatest giver there will ever be
The God of heaven, the Father
Of all creation
God, the Father
Gave her a book, the Bible
And it’s contents – scriptures and verses
Are more potent and powerful
Than anything she could have imagined
With love, He blessed her greatly!
The water has receded
And I can see everything
in the bottom of the stream
Big pebbles of assorted colors
covering each other
frogs scampering about
and big fish meddling around
I stared in the silent water
watching rubble floating on top
giant rocks planted in the sand
unaware of what is at hand
And openly denying that
they didn't know each other
I walked across the buried rock
to view the pebbles from all angles
With heightened curiosity
and reflective ingenuity
I dip my foot into the water
but it was as cold as ice
and something strange
was bubbling up inside
The sun shines vigorously
through the tall trees
penetrating the water in the deep
I could see the color of everything
the shape the depth and the size
The wind came to a stand still
And mad birds murmuring
precariously from within
They start a mutiny in the trees
Flying furiously in the air
waiting for the storm as it draws near
I crossed the stream
and sat on a wooden bench
Contemplating numerous events
The mysteries of nature
birds talking to each other
And everyone screaming
and shouting at one another
I could not understand the birds language
but I could sense their troubled emotions
Whistling
screeching
squealing
shirking
crying
hooting
tweeting
sounds without description arouse in the tree
Different rhythm unfamiliar tune
Making everyone confused
Mozart in all his glory
couldn't have created a better symphony
Even among the tallest tree
nature is wailing in misery
I cannot fathom it all
unparalleled music resonating in my head
and the trees standing upright
scrutinizing this terrible plight
The leaves are not moving
And the bushes can feel the strangeness
the birds are whimpering
forcing nature to set an important meeting
Everyone gathers in Eleanor's park
waiting anxiously for the meeting to start
The wood pecker hammering the wood
and the sweet John Che-wit
standing on the shaky branch
watching the cardinal reading the agenda
The cold and dry winter has returned
Hot spring sweltering in summer
Every thing is green again and the trees
waits patiently to dance again
The bird started a sudden commotion
and the meeting ended in a raucous demotion
Winter hits back with a monumental explosion.
One of a kind there'll never be another you
what you hold in your heart to them have held true
I've looked upon the core of what you store within
for me you exist as unique among all men
The song that you sing it's truths held so high
oppression of those different wherein injustice lie
to the robing of nature her diversity and vest
in a poem of tone inequities do you suggest
The external show some may just see as art
but what you paint and sing and write demonstrates your heart
I told you early on I judge not by outward show
but what is seated inside that I wish to know
All that you paint on canvas and in song
demonstrates reality and courses right and wrong
what you depict sets forth description of your mind
a spectrum of vision coloring inferior to whats fine
I even see the sweet things you so carefully thought hid
been learning to read have I ever since I were a kid
When you looked across that room what did you think you saw
for the night before I saw your minds cognition all
A woman loves a man for who he is inside
the character of his self that he can never hide
for what he thinks and does demonstrates his care
his ability to display and with it others share
Do never judge me like the world which in you live
For the greatest teacher does truthful insight give
what is truly frightening is that I scare myself
that vision is so clear unlike minds so full of stealth
One who is wise will choose a man for his heart
that is his essence where communion can start
perception is his own gift where he chooses to live
to share it with another its benefaction give
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C Michael Miller