Long Dexterously Poems
Long Dexterously Poems. Below are the most popular long Dexterously by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dexterously poems by poem length and keyword.
Le Mot Juste
The right word indeed is what we poets always seek
As we use our imaginations in finding and identifying
A theme of interest and one that allows us to work and
To weave a tapestry of poetic virtue and enchantment.
The right word for the sake of poetic discussion can be
A singular word, two or three words, or even a group of
Words; yet it is how the word or words are placed in
Verses which account for proper emphasis and nuance.
The right word gives us that certain image or metaphor
So necessary as we dexterously process artistic thoughts
Which meld into verses conveying a wondrous message
To our readers yearning for the magic that poetry brings.
The right word often sets the tone and tenor of each verse
And as we consider the desired effect of each verse as it
Flows and follows or interlocks with the other verses in
A poem—the tone and tenor attributes are quite important.
Using the right word impacts what we say and how we say
It and how our poetic thoughts may or may not be correctly
Understood, which means “Words Count” always—and we
Poets should consider their effect in portraying our message.
Le Mot Juste in the French language very exquisitely means
“The Right Word” and seemed appropriate as the title for this
Poem to emphasize the critical nature of using the right word
As we poets seek to make our thoughts known to the public.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – April 28, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
*The poem appears in my new poetry book with a release date of
February 3, 2015.
Incorrigible Recalcitrant - Doppelganger (mine)
Ala Goofus and Gallant
highlights my diametrically
divergent alter egos
always the reserved
obedient docile boy
afeared to stray outside narrow
circumscribed comfort zone
figuratively tethered
extremely short leash
choked me like yoked oxen,
albeit non red dually bullish
under bated breath
otherwise submissive
internalizing fury and rage
relentlessly lambasted
daily school bus ride
analogous highway to hell,
thus envisioned monstrous physique
linkedin to superpowers...
whereby giant beastie boy
within scrawny nerd
visiting jocular comeuppance
bopping "jocks" on their beanies
with rotten tangerines
(Tom Lehrer would be proud)
knocking senseless nasty brutes
gleefully pummeling rapscallions
casually, heroically avenging
purging immediate threat
while smugly jauntily
relishing carefree blessed awesome
fistpumping air joyous ride
duplicating bad ass daring
do dexterously doubling
(wishful) dream come true
one prior pipsqueak - yours truly
punishing pestiferous classmates,
who sadistically doled
out daily dose,
non USDA approved
cavalier fierce injustice
taken aback when mine knuckles
compress hoodlums opprobrious
wicked yakking (actually silenced)
fountainhead spewing toxins
exuberantly effusively ebulliently
cleaning principle ringleader's clocks
at long last
traumatizing measure for measure
antagonistic arch nemesis
inflicting insufferable torment
once passively quaffed ruffians threats,
now all's well that ends well,
no matter yours truly expelled
forever pleasantly humming
merrily merrily, merrily,
merrily, imagined life
tis but a dream.
Precious creole from a Caribbean haven,
she that inhabits the vacuum of my heart.
Your kiss can quell a heart laden with fury,
to save regiments from a scene of carnage.
A man's long life span of five score and seven
is nothing more than a fruitless lengthy age
in comparison with few seconds with thee.
Nothing else can inflict as much injury
as a minute second your departure
from a heart you have so pierced with Cupid's dart.
Yes my love, you are dexterously fashioned
by divine hands, distinct from every creature.
Nothing at all in this whole world gladdens me
like my love you have so graciously returned.
Form:
Now I have a poetess student
Who amazes me with her endowment
A great dream she craves, for attainment
Now, a mature girl with great excitement
Knitter! In thy lines an adorable adornment
Whao! My sight is glued to that embellishment
Oh! I vividly see the imminent accomplishment
Poised with thy pen, enjoying each poetic moment
Relishing the prospect of making real thy intent
Each line of this budding poetess, an ornament
Crafted dexterously, each glowing content
I'm lost baby,in that rhythmic movement
Outstanding, thy skills in each segment
Underway, I see thy self- fulfilment
See each line like fluorescent
Each line of the poem is dedicated to my beloved student, Nwankwo Precious.
In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock
Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.
The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.
Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.
From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide
He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)
He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds
Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece
The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!
It is hard to really tell you
The beauty of this man
For many simply find it
Too hard to understand
They laugh, they smile, and tease
As I describe his every being
They just can’t fully see
The splendor that I’m seeing
Though he is just a character
I really can care less
He is real in this crazy heart of mine
So give your teasing a rest!
His hair is black as ebony
His voice as smooth as milk
It reminds me of dark chocolate sliding across oiled silk
His face is pale and serious
With black eyes that pierce your own
His grimness makes me envious
In this world he is alone
His nose is hooked—but not too much!
And his rare smiles are divine
His black robes add a vicarious touch
I wish he could be mine!
As far as personality goes,
I say, he’s quite the charmer!
Dexterously shielded by a past of foes
Beneath his shame of honor
Sometimes he’s angry, but mostly glum
Rarely is he content
He lost his love, cold and lonesome
Sarcasm is his lament!
Alone he lingers in the dark
Torn and set apart
No one knows he has left a mark
Right smack-dab on my heart!
I stared intently at book and screen
When they first came on
Every word he utters is like a dream
And then again—he’s gone!
Nevertheless he leaves me
With a feeling so grand
At loss of words from the awe he gives me
A joy that no one understands
Can I help but swoon and gape,
At the great professor Severus Snape?
*Note: Although Alan Rickman is a contributing factor to my obsession,
I’m seriously just in love with the character…and that is my confession!
SILVER-LINING
Cheated life occasionally yet it couldn't play even.
In life's sequel, I'm swivelled into a deep sweven.
Where's conventionality in a cosmos that's so odd?
Everyone that ever rocked my world
I've dexterously dovetailed into words;
Lyric, ballad, elegy or love sonnet occupies 2-thirds.
Every single trusted love I've ever lost
and that ignorance had collaborated with lust,
I've resuscitated in verse, stanzas & enjambment;
And ameliorated into memory or emotional strength.
Bathed in past disconsolation and the aftermath,
I've never & will never remain on the same wavelength.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rondeau Prime.
Copyright© December2022.
As they leave
They leave with us nothing but an empty
Treasure to treasure which even Judas Iscariot
The disciple’s Treasure cannot measure
And treasure with pleasure.
As they leave,
They victimize and they seize with impunity
And dishonour students’ union leader’s certificates
Since 2000,for leading peaceful protest
Within and outside campus
As they leave,
They leave with stains of blood of 17 pensioners
And their other colleagues in their hands
While younger colleagues and students mere
Exist like living corpses
They vindictively sack staff who tell them
The naked truth and seize food from their families
As they leave,
They leave with our monetised vehicles and valuables
Monetisation another coinage for stealing people’s
Goods and properties
As they leave,
They relish and enjoy destroying people’s lives
And careers, giggling, later, dexterously smiling
And suddenly laughing hysterically like a naked
Beautifully handsome man dancing to no particular
Beat in Dugbe market
As they leave,
They leave with us fusion of confusion
Sensational exploitation and victimization
Intimidation and bastardization of the then
Glorious University of Ibadan culture and traditon
As they leave,
They leave thinking that their evil deeds will
Be buried and buried with them secretly
Alas!!…the wind has blown and the buttocks
Of the mother-hen is exposed.
Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am
Form:
My first attempt at skiing happened a long time ago on a
winter vacation, during a memorable trip to the picturesque
valley of Vadaal, Norway. The steep hill slopes were covered
by a thick blanket of snow, an ideal location for skiing. I had
optimistically rented the skiing gear that was beyond the
level of my skill. This I realized in a tragic way, but at the
outset I convinced myself that the number of winter sport
events that I saw on the TV qualified me to dexterously slide
down the sparkling slopes.
My friend, a seasoned skier, gave me a brief demonstration,
instructing me, “Make a wedge to stop, parallel to slide fast,
balance body weight etc.” I thought that was easy, sensed no
difficulty at all, but reckoned it to be a great fun moving fast.
But the outcome shaped differently. The moment I released
the lift handle the slope seemed to tilt precariously. I felt being
dragged by gravity and rushing down-slope at an incredible
speed with the arms flailing wildly. I tried hard to maneuver
my legs properly for the skis to make an wedge to decelerate,
but I couldn’t. Panic set in. On an impulse I jammed the knees
together with all my might. The skis closed, crossed each other.
They didn’t stop my slide, but made me airborne instead. I
landed on my back and slid a long while face-up. Finally, I came
to a complete stop when my head bumped gently against the
safety barrier. I lay there covered in scraped snow for how long
I didn’t know. The skis I saw pointed skyward. Through their gap
I found the smiling face of my friend simply peering down at me.
He dryly asked, “ Are you OK?” I said, “ Yes, so far.” “You should
thank God, you didn’t break your ankles”. Surely, I was lucky,
although my skiing career got frozen forever on that snowy
winter’s eve.
legs forgot the ground
snow whispered beneath the back…
fate turned frozen world
The pink honeycomb provided a mysterious grace,
Warrior with a sloth-purse unclosed wound.
Sargassum, barefoot hollow woman,
As if such an object could meet my canonic sound.
Soak my feet in cool moist sand,
And juncture to the purple sunset over the sea-bound.
Slowpoke chucklehead hump and heave its swarm,
Create a hole in the caliginous maroon of the unfound.
Until she's done and back to the ocean,
I set and bout her unreal breath with the ground.
This sea a ford motor stimulates altitudinous,
It evokes in me how all designs breathe and drown.
Ocean waves are noisy
like the rain dexterously pours down.
Written: October 10, 2022