Long Edifices Poems
Long Edifices Poems. Below are the most popular long Edifices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Edifices poems by poem length and keyword.
In earlier year pages
there were the time of sages
prophesying of things to come,
but today, it is the ground that rises to speak of nature spun
the messages of what may yet be if heard without heed
if history remains forgotten and unbelieved.
Rumbles and shockwaves scored
tremble on the land and shores
windswept dreams of magnificent edifices rose then torn
and the sky grayed and clouds were restlessly formed
along the surface of the ocean storms forewarned
to respond in upheaval irretrievable.
Beneath the towers made by man
everyone and everything is washed away to sand
and in the aftermath of the world's demise,
soft somber whimpers scour foolish man's pride
and as it all begins to disappear by fires seared
the empty earth cries.
Majestic cathedrals are erected for the worship of God,
Featuring towering spires and ostentatious facade.
Grand organs acclaim ancient hymns with clarion flourish.
Melodious choirs sing hosannas, languid souls to nourish!
Most congregants worship in less pretentious surrounds,
But the same generous blessings from above abounds.
It matters not the size of the building or its congregation.
The people are the church worshipping with joyous celebration!
Upon distant fields of frightful martial campaign,
And upon naval vessels plodding the roiling main,
Dedicated chaplains in simple settings minister to their fold,
Proclaiming just as effectively the cogent message of old!
Whether it be mosque, synagogue, cathedral or canvas tent,
And whatever the religion or creed may be the people's bent,
One thing they have in common and it will be clearly evident,
They all witness the presence of their God ever omnipotent!
Perhaps in lieu of building mighty edifices prone to decay,
Bridges of understanding could be built to keep prejudices at bay,
Drawing diverse peoples together for a common good,
Fostering charity, fellowship and world-wide brotherhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Taking a walk through the aisle,
This used to be the mass convergence of congregants.
Now here lies the solitude of the dead silence;
The quietness of the graveyard more hilarious than this.
The massive edifices of such a glorious moment as today Sunday:
The melodious renditions from the angelic choristers,
The soothing hymns of John Newton, Horatio Spafford, Reginald Heber,
The gaiety and the adorable well-rehearsed body movement of the pious worshipers,
The sobriety of their Christlikeness,
The brevity of the priest, and his cheerful psychedelic charisma and the dignified homily
All absent!
Here lie the empty pews and the pulpit
Here lies the tambourine fallow.
A walk through the aisle
To sound a note on the piano
Sends memorable retrospect of the good old times cut off by covid 19
A little walk through the aisle
To say hello, testing the microphone,
“Hallelujah somebody”, praise God!
And the echo of my voice with resounding silence,
Send shivers on my spine about the solitude of this glorious place of carnival.
And truly their absence!
A step through the aisle,
Stood I motionless to behold and to ponder
That life loses its value in the absence of friends and loved ones.
No way to dodge fiat decreeing death sentence
for this rambling man
cheesy alias con commit tented mouse élan
Who felt unready to kick the can
On account of violating ban
Against abominable illegal mandate
With no way to commute death sentence
For the simple act of voicing opinion
against exist of heavenly gate
Of hellish underworld
despite religious opiate decreeing penance
Spurious pedagogical poetic rant
dialed up x telephonic times
Not the ravings of some half mad lunatic
Carefully plotted recitation
that springs from combined teachings of Kant
And jolly old Saint Nick
Charges trumped up per this average trump petting don
Purportedly blaspheming judeo-christian paradigm
Upending blind faith equated with hill of beans upon
Which dogma erected epitomized
by complex edifices via grime
Sweat and tears from slave labor
where usurpation of freedom won
Until outspoken spokes persons risked life and limb
To invalidate the existence
of supreme deity who created life
Whether for extra credit or perhaps on a whim
Adam from whose rib cage
without anesthesia but razor sharp knife
Sported eve with a physique quite pleasing and trim
But rather than get lost in the Garden of Eden myth
Final seconds of existence tick away
Without intent to recant statements
?
solely acceptable to b’ni brith
Prompting last words of mine as oye vay
With no regrets - deeming heart of religion flimsy as pith
Thing in the wind or house of cards
vulnerable to blow away!
uplift
my heart
dispel
distress
cast off
despair
begone
music tingle
my spine
emotions
realign
half dreaming
...dulcet
slow
gently awake
'twixt night
& reality
still
in no man's
land
now engaged
open
ascending
higher&
higher
presto
spinning
round&
around
escalate
&wait
a repeat
unfolds
phrase
by
phrase
skates
then
slides
stirring
into
action
continuous
exhilaration
echos
on repeat
from
edifices
of sound
strings
that sing
harmonized
into one
played
breathtakingly
fast
dispel
my disquieting
thoughts
People fear thought like nothing else on earth—
More than ruin, more even than death.
Thought is a subversive and revolutionary beast,
Shattering the chains of norms with iron claws.
Through the dark corridors of the mind,
Thoughts surge like the shadows of the night,
Tearing the curtains of silent fear,
Igniting the old cathedrals with flames of ideas.
Thought gazes into the pit of hell and is not afraid,
Its eyes, torches of sovereign disdain,
Piercing the abyss without hesitation.
Merciless, thought tears privileges into pieces,
Defying the comfort of ancient edifices.
It is an anarchic wind, bound by no laws,
Whistling through the ruins of old wisdom.
In the heavy breath of night, thought strides,
A beast freed from golden cages,
Stirring forgotten dreams with deep roots.
It advances, both an angel and a demon,
With wings of light and shadow, growing into a symphony.
Sowing ideas on unknown grounds,
Opening unseen paths in the garden of the mind.
Under the moon’s clear light, thought weaves a ballad,
A tale of liberation, dispelling the darkness,
Drawing truths from the depths of confusion,
In this storm, its strength is revealed.
At the edge of eternity, I stand solitary,
Bathed in the endless flow of consciousness,
United with whispers in an eternal tone,
Where the fear of ruin and death becomes just a dream.
Awakening humanity.' Struggling within the breadth and depth of possibility's revelling in those possibility's and also an
Obstinancy.' Blood-soaked actions stoking their reality wanderers all' Lost leaders exploring so much iniquity bursts of good; with some intensity! Travelling in orbits so
Habitually. Builders of edifices in great vanity' until redemption through the veil of flesh; to humanity.' By God
Good Father and intervetionally, in records; and at places
Known historically.' We can follow direction to equanimity'
To Love of all by His path to unity.. No competing teachings.. Some of religiousity.? combine of all factors
Universally, other volumes speak of gaining peace by violence? and volitillity.' In divisivness and opressivity."
By opting children into marriage or co'habitation.. There
Is also taught' forced subjection and much rapicity.!
Prescribed blood tests
present no qualms,
unlikely nothing askew i.e.
ticking time bombs
nor prone to catastrophization,
albeit anticipatory anxiety
plus demeanor of poetically titled
medical practitioner allays, calms
alleviates agitation exhibited
by dad's and/or mom's
panic minimizes si? no sweaty palms,
nonetheless precautionary measure taken
thumbing apostle Matthew psalms
ayee feel grateful relatively
clean bill of health.
Nine thirty morning
appointment earlier today
September tenth two
thousand nineteen no way
found yours truly bright
tailed, and bush shay
eyed, cuz mine circadian rhythm
(reed sleepiness), I cannot betray,
yet medical plight concerning
bowel movement analogous to clay
stool pigeons ever ray
now and again plague me: hay
4 four at aye
oh elle dot com, alias math they
you scott harris happy as jay
bird for personable rapport
she, said practitioner did display
offering friendly feedback
proactive measures to avoid
finding mine psyche
analogously scrambled (think) souffle
even absent such agreeable
pharmacological medications keep at bay
panic stricken state
seeding additional gray
hairs (matter of fact
synthesized prescription -
pills selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors)
only necessitate small copay
Medicare bonafide dogsend
whereby nurse practitioner equal
however much she doth weigh,
in salt, though an oft worn cliché
feather in her cap coup d'état
personable, laudable, hospitable...
winning accolades regarding
humbleness and modest stay
expertise within her craft hoop fillet
staving off general mills concerns
reason I wrote rhyme, eh somewhat passé
even Mister Ed would neigh say
so with his horse sense to stirrup
unbridled jollity - me hoof finds rein
ching words cathartic je ne sais quois
experimenting with this, that,
or t'other typed out array,
perhaps hashtagged as tripe courtesy quay
zee poor ah shunned poet fray
ming tropes distinguished (ha)
even if garnering no pay
English language I play
juxtaposing incongruities
to tease out reactions probably lay
build rickety lettered edifices
manuscripts best sentenced to sauté
within steaming vat
fed as swill to petsmart hogs
grunting as they fertilize mulch greenway.
Until now, the skies were only blue or gray.
But today, wrathful Cacus set the sky ablaze.
Today, the spectral smoke choked ochre sky mirrors
exploding wildfires unleashed below.
Today the tarnished jaundice sky measures
the crumbling Constitutional edifices,
the raging roving injustice burning
everywhere across the land.
Today as thousands are driven
from their homes, the pestilence
spreads across the land,
killing hundreds of thousands.
Today the sooted grimy sky
reflects the deceitful lawless tyrant,
all his crooked crony stagehands,
his white nationalist army of tormentors,
as their raw sewage floods the rivers and streams
of our theories.
Today this climate rampage
has nothing to do with climate change.
We bask instead in the political climate
of aberrant delusions.
Today this inferno in the sky,
this ceiling of hellfire,
suffocates our oxygen of dreams.
Below, the Constitution provides
kindling for the flames
ingulfing our democracy,
the fuel for our conspiracy wildfire,
our rite of passage
to the underworld.
Published: Dissident Voice 10/18/2020
A radio aired an awful auld aria,
Astounding all my aged aural edifices
In eerie aura of araucaria trees
Aching angrily in a loud typhonic breeze.
My brain wanted to burrow to escape the pain
Of sounds as a warren of rabid jackrabbits
Digging to escape mangy slobbering coyotes
Howling hungrily in panting pursuit of prey.
Such a scratchy song, if played in the briny deep,
Would chase crazy-eyed kraken to the mountain tops.
Callas, Verdi and Puccini would flee their graves
For a screechy symphony of barbed wire sitars.
Praise be! The off button my shaking hands did find;
I woke up, pressing on my belly button hard.