Long Draughts Poems
Long Draughts Poems. Below are the most popular long Draughts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Draughts poems by poem length and keyword.
I have met the Ibis
The Sacred Bird of Knowledge
The reincarnation of Thoth
Whose Wisdom knows no end.
I now know why Theuth loved you as I do
Why Socrates used you as his Muse
For Arithmetic and All Calculations
For Astronomy and Draughts and Dice
For all invented ruminations.
I understand your threefold countenance
Of the earth you walk as Man
Floating deity of space on water
Ascending spirituality of the air.
Born to reveal the will of the Gods
Laid by Logos upon the waters of the Universe
I beseech you now to bestow upon me
Both knowledge and your grasp of reality.
(January 6, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Come dance and sing
Side by side with the Lizard King,
Entranced as he devours his rage
In the seductive dark at the edge of the stage.
The Lizard King can do anything.
Balanced on the edge of a grave,
You'll give away what you came to save.
Fifty amps send forth salacious screams
His acolytes swarm to share these dreams.
The Lizard King can do anything.
Eyes that some would die for
Cast their magics from the printed page
"Who Do You Love?" they ask
Looking for the answer in ceremonies
Held in the pulsing womb of the night.
Streets are filled with doubt and pain
As youth's desires contend with those of age
Drowning together in the summer's bloody rain.
Poet possessed by a savage muse
Now plays the Apocalypse Cafe'
Sings to angels and demons
' Neath the spinning stars
At the Eternal Carnival.
This is the end, Beautiful Friend;
The crystal ship is sailing off.
Dance on fires in the East with the Czar
Drinking mystic draughts in the final Whiskey Bar.
Show us the way to the next little girl
And don't ask why
We are born to grieve and love and die.
Strange fruits grow
In the garden of the Big Sleep
Where the Lizard's scales shine
On the face of the Deep.
Laugh there with those born to sweet delight,
Weep with those who living in the endless night.
Come dance and sing
'Til the concert hall rings
Come dance in a place that knows no sense
That will shudder and shake a thousand years hence.
The Lizard King can do anything.
Come see what disembodiment brings
In the court of the Lizard King.
Shout within the celestial walls
Harken to the voice of the Void as it calls.
The Lizard King can do anything.
I Cooked the Book that Would Not Tap
A Doomsday, a nightmare gone wrong,
My hand shot with pain and didn’t stop,
Bandages hid the wound I wove for kong,
The silence echoed round the wheel fop.
I screamed with tears which said the news,
When sirenes had been screened for writ,
Draughts unveiled the blood for reviews,
That cared enough to dare read the fit.
Arching, the doctor stood vacant and here,
Physicalism bent metaphor until she looped,
Analogy personified emphatic nature’s fear,
When realism criticised cubisms’ truly trooped.
Critical realism still made no ontological sense,
My metaphysical slippers knew no god,
Subjectivism objected to empirical arms tense,
When constructivism departed from my odd.
I could not write to epistemology for methodology,
‘Cos clearly my relativity had got it substantive.
Moral absolutism saw humankind as pedagogy,
Still, not yet a guess, a list, a bond, gift, a plaintiff.
Rationalism was not a natural phenomenon, fair,
No predicates set my entities alight to condition,
The proposition adjunct to abstract and layer,
I imagined the mathematics that truly supposition.
This OR that, tip AND rat, not for me or negation
FOR ALL humanities THERE EXISTS a surreal,
Mere, underneath my formula, nude propagation,
Creating the sum of me that axiomed regal’s legal.
Logic. Logic, just pure blooded logic. Critical,
Crucial. Conscience, not questioning the cost, fact,
Never asking for terms or claim, the carer brutal,
The dame. The lame as mentioning the act.
Structural.
Rhoda Monihan
Neither family nor scant friends twill mourn
severance outlook linkedin inextricably forlorn
accursed psychological agony since I got born
incessantly pilloried courtesy bullies hood scorn,
yours truly convenient scapegoat raked over hot coals
preferable versus insidious,
malicious, nefarious, opprobrious
querulous, ridiculous, salacious...
suffering post traumatic stress disorder wartorn
invisible battle scars branded me, yet well worn
shell shocked comfortably numbed skull
(just another brick in the wall)
jimmied heavily inebriated distilled, cracked corn
trumpet silenced (think) muted horn.
Anger at self wells up
regarding passive stance (mine)
convenient akin to jellyfish,
and/or crustaceans without spine
essentially a dorky nerdy wimpy kid
i.e. faulty genetic design
unsure if attributable to Capricorn zodiac sign
essentially allowed, enabled and provided
easy excellent access akin to scavengers to dine
bitter draughts synonymous quaffing quinine
bobble headed, I
meekly, grudgingly, admittedly opine
figuratively forced down gullet - nein
letup liberally heaped upon
courtesy 20/20 hindsight, a tangential pact
with Sue S. Side, promising starvation diet
package deal plus absent I, cant see
(now a tan - gent) unwittingly did cosign.
Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk. George MacDonald
_____________________________________________________________
In a world where decay is dominant,
Arctic tundra is melting, and envy is prominent.
Friendship withered away with the lapse of time,
Moon gapes at all facts and truths, concomitant.
We jive in death-cool air and chime,
Where dreams and hopes start to climb.
As though molehills faded into the grass,
Rapture rain has turned into melting rime.
In a place where the sky spills tears of brass,
And the howling winds bestow a deafening bass.
We lingered in the natural ephemeral support,
Behind the murky cloud of the ebbing mass
Our bond, however, was not flexible to contort,
Cyclic in the way that orchestral drums distort.
We carried out a solemn pledge on the floor,
In divine draughts, brambles flood the report.
The Meadow Brook gave us richness galore,
Black valleys where floods shred and roar?
We could not deny such a reservoir of devotion,
As with the wilting branches and dwindling door.
Our bonds faded, plagued by wide demotion,
Secrets below the land, a flurry of blades of notion.
In a world where deterioration prevails supreme,
Time and distance cast a curtain on our emotions.
But even amid such decay, there is a dream,
Darkening and drooping, we creep and esteem.
With the truth that humanity may split and slope,
Crows chirp as they drop twigs and scream.
While passing across acrid rings of mope,
Our ties are fraying. Teach me how to hope.
It shines brightly behind the gloomy overlay,
A dazzling beacon in the depths to grope.
In this universe of inexorable decay,
We acquire courage with each raw day.
With percussive pulses of love and delight,
Our ties will last for a span we cannot deny.
In a world where decay holds its might,
We defy its grasp, shining with an inner light.
Through the drills and tribulations we face,
Whatever embers burn our ego and sight.
if zee al chemist trump doth win go hide in the bunker
to save your ass
brace yourself as this don holed
confabulates that gold iz brass
and conjures prestidigitation
like spinning false hoods in2 truth - crass
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
a synonym force head fabricator -
will threaten democracy, thus be afraid
as this pompous voice quotes
from hiz playbook, which = a charade
the hard core truths, he
(who i liken to the plague) doth evade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
and dreams up fault of Barack Obama
for extinction of dinosaurs,
crucifixion of Jesus Christ
down fall of the Roman Empire,
or far tethered Fred Flintsone ca fetching an escapade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
yea...this rip pub lick'n presidential contender
evinces a psyche that did brexit n got frayed
building and monopolizing castles in the sky -
nonexistent as a grade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
school fib - or donning role
as play ground bully teaming with ivan
the terrible to dominate the greensward
in the above fiction, but...man
that loose canon dressing his
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"make america great again" gag line - whar i ran
and mid eastern countries will rise
as one cheering him as star of global hit parade
despite any raging oppositional pandaemonium
birth er ring a conflagration
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
kenya believe the world acquiesces
to thine projected masquerade
blocking im grate shunning crowds -
which number of people rival in size
taller (if stack one atop thee other)
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
than the trump tower casino or high rise
with his signature - hm...mebbe funds provided
by drug lords, the swedish house mafia
or terrorist ties???
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
whom security details silence by tossing a hand grenade
sham on you Potemkin village people for quaffing draughts
from elixir purportedly to transform visage with trademark
swept back, wavy and coiffed hirsute.
Form:
This old house dark: dire and lonely,
***** sounds now park a feel chilly;
Old echoes stray upon the wind,
As if to say what might have been;
Here as you slide on old timbers,
A cold gust rides on odd shiver;
Shadows blunt sight, scent of old stuff,
Eerie the light not quite enough;
Now near your face, moth wings and draft,
Old passage trace of ancient craft;
Curious the pause upon odd junk,
Wonder finds cause to dusty trunks;
And in the dust that floats around,
Diffuse the rust of time once sound;
Years have now wrought an empty lot,
Dread and fear brought this death-bound plot;
Random draughts flow in musky sweep,
Silence now mows a dying deep;
Stray voices creep with lost affairs,
A long-lost sleep trails these old stairs;
Seek meaning here where no soul stirs,
Let mind be clear as fear frames blur;
Such yellow hues of old-time airs,
Crouch mimic cues to dizzy fare;
In these late hours where moon does shine,
Life lost not ours yet all's not fine;
Seek bold refrains where old songs died,
Note once again those eyes that cried;
This journal old: yellow-brown grain,
Last passage told, ink stains etched plain;
Strange edge prompts here an obvious patch,
Devoid of cheer in crumbling stretch;
This old house weeps in forlorn grief,
A massive sleep yet not quite brief.
Leon Enriquez
15 January 2017
Singapore
inexplicable to me why your being:
beguiles, fascinates, intrigues, lures,
orchestrates, radiates tantalizes this
CVS patron, who dares himself to
let spill forth (like sought after shim
mer ing liquid (perhaps the elixir for
eternal life), aware that thee might
partake draughts from this supposed
glowing, mirroring, pulsating, exqui
site lee teasing unquestionably an at
traction, and tis on account of such
captivating, fascinating, mesmerizing,
youthfulness finds myself helplessly
drawn to thee, who asks for nothing
asper his attempt to codify, glorify,
lustily communicate this intoxicating
kickstarting, manifesting, organizing
cascade of appeal, ye most likely did
not necessarily intend directed at this
regular run of the mill bipedal primate
who knew not himself the inexplicable
stupendous effect, and if nothing else
feels compelled, goaded, linkedin with
your self, which could be sustained at
the platonic level, or which appeal to
a nymph like spirit could perchance
evolve into a dynamic, kinetic, titanic
(maiden in america) gluten and msg free
(oh...of course NONGMO) friendship
proceeding in one direction with no par-
tickle har rush, but allow, enable, and
promote a sustained endeavor imp poe
zing no uncomfortable urgency. even
procuring a sweet hello or adieu on each
occasion that finds my stock of pharma
sue tickle medications in need of ma
mad dog ripple ace ment. aye could
(if thee would permit meet for lunch
(on premise and promiss not to steel
a kiss), boot rather to exalt in an unde
finable blinding aura, charisma, karma
inducing this con tempullet heave, intro
spective, quiet natured house broken,
dog gone, muttering smartpet avoiding
(without waste ting) your precious energy,
nor diverts and value able sands of time...
matthew scott harris sets pro active non
threatening overture as his exposure
therapy (cuz he latched onto risk
averse) be have your decades in
the past that still “smart” his psyche,
thus no intent to cause aversion, ire,
uneasiness nor rile explains this
unexpected hoop fully pleasant
surprise communique.
I
have seen
love
grow
from a
chance
encounter
long ago
I have
tasted
fruit
of the
love
tree
plucked
leaves
of
faithfulness
and
gathered
them
to
my breast
I live
within
an oasis
amidst
a
desert
of
decadent
decay
I drink
deep
draughts
from
this
well
each
day
to
salve
the
pain
and
keep
me
sane
Hear me read my free
verse
A LABOUR OF LOVE @
http://youtu.be/GiD8JdYi-jw
A hole in my door I don’t need anymore
It’s meant to allow mail to fall to my floor
Ex-colleagues don’t call since the day I retired
When I reached the age of ‘No longer required’
A hole in my door with flaps inside and out
Never with one envelope sticking out
These days I think it might even be great
To receive a small note re the next village fete
A hole in my door what’s the purpose of that
Never one communique on my mat
It seems that I’ve wound up on life’s storage shelf
Should I perhaps send a note to myself
A hole in my door that lets draughts in at night
But no mail comes through it… does nobody write?
I could seal it up… I’m quite sure I could do it
For nobody visits… nobody calls through it
This chilly spring morning it’s Valentine’s Day
I look to my door and my heart tells me, “Hey!”
The envelope, clearly, is not just a flyer
For it says my name… not ‘The occupier’.
Have I an admirer, my heart starts to race
I open the letter in impatient haste
I ask myself, “Who’s sending letters to you?”
Then, writ large in red… ‘YOUR PAYMENT IS DUE!’