Long Elegiac lyric Poems
Long Elegiac lyric Poems. Below are the most popular long Elegiac lyric by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elegiac lyric poems by poem length and keyword.
LOVING MEANS BELEIVING IN LOVE
THAT IT IS NEVER COMPROMISED
TO KNOW WHO WE SHOULD LOVE
AND WHY WE SHOULD LOVE THAN
SUCH EACH BELEIF IN LOVE IS
MEANT TO UPSCORE THE
RELATIONSHIP: BY RELATING
THE ETHICS OF LOVERS
AND THE INGRITY OF LOVE
ARE SEEN IN THE FAIRVEIW OF IT'S
PURPOSE
NEVER NEGLECTING
ALWAYS PROTECTING
ALWAYS SECURING
SO THAT IT'S ENDURING
SPOKEN IN EACH SENERIO
EACH DAY SAME
UNTIL DIFFERENT
THAN SUCH CHANGES WILL BE MET
WITH THE CERTAINTY OF NONE DIVISION
THAT THESE BONDING PATCHES ARE STITCHED
TO STRENGHTEN
AND THAN WE ARE COVERED AND BLANKETED
TO THE WARM ADMIRATION OF OUR
OWN TOGETHERNESS
Artie Mac was a hero of mine
Singing songs most all of the time
He would never just say Hello
He'd hit you with a greeting from some Broadway show
Man he could sing everything
That voice divine... he was a friend of mine...
Saw him down town sing a cappella
Send In The Clowns in some downtown cellar
The Ayresome Angel from his distant youth
Nailing those notes with a resolute truth
A Holgate man, no fancy Dan
That voice so fine... he was a friend of mine...
One night he's on the stage with J.T.
I looked away but I knew he'd seen me
Get up Lou he shouts, let's do Out Of Time
You and me we do that real fine
Artie and me, rock harmony
Line for line ... he was a friend of mine...
Dying to Live, note after note
I hear this song, lump in my throat
Gone far too young this magical guy
Drink in my hand, tears in my eye
Thanks for them all, duos recalled
Time after time... he was a friend of mine...
Tribute to Artie McDermott who was a great guy, Boro fan and the best singer I ever shared a stage with.
And there has been quite a few.
Embarkation upon meditation...
Believe me you upon manifestation
regarding Das godaddy bing linkedin
with avast cosmic consciousness
self induced light hypnotic trance
I become enthralled
unless wife disrupts intent concentration
calling out "Matt...Matt...Matt"
bajillion times Googleplex
(slight hyperbole for literary effect),
subsequently courtesy
disembodied voices
deliver poetic inspiration
without forcefully summoned,
rather gently coax (zeal lust lee)
amidst Smokey and Bandits spiritus mundi
plethora of discordant
indistinct jabbering murmurs
requiring exacting golong strategy
kickstarting coalescence regarding
faintest hint analogously harboring
shipping news a boat
reeling in catch of the day
thus, fingers snakishly
slither skitter, sidle
at greased lightning pace
across Macbook Pro laptop keyboard
feverishly unleashing
unexpected brainstorming tsunami
recalling steely apothegm
strike while the iron iz hot,
thus such epiphany occurred
moments ago - in case
ye heard "Eureka" shouted
loud, free and clear
without moment to lose
yours truly brooked
stream of consciousness
ignoring flash flood warnings
slapped down one after another
figurative pontoon bridge
all the while skirting
eddies, whirlpools, fierce whitecaps
fortunately hauling unexpected
magnificent linkedin kindled
sense and sensibility
yours truly rendered speechless
(most time non verbal when writing),
additionally hodgepodge mashup
offers no rhyme nor reason,
yet burst of pooled
imponderable gushing silent spring
(courtesy ghost of Rachel Carson)
currently did flickr
demanding immediate typing
though poetic license expired
please don't tell commission,
nor chief word den
these unpredictable eruptions
(most likely indistinguishable
turkey in the straw gobbledygook
to the untrained eye),
rather good n plenti
camouflaged indecipherable creativity
(nope, not even practiced experts
keen on esoteric etymological arts)
stymied to understand)
mine swiftly styled harry tailored
gibberish oh baying avant
(to assign long sentence
upon Matthew Scott),
which "FAKE" premature ejaculation
incorporating poppycock mishmash
screened for your viewing discomfort
unbelievably came to this homeless tramp,
while he plodded across no man's land
with hud door hubble mojo risin.
Heartstrings tug and strum a piece of melancholy
The mind vacillates from lovely days long past
to today's bitter reality
Longing for that loving, motherly touch
Oh, so quick to get me in line when I was out.
That touch that I still thank God I had a chance to
feel and why I am missing you so much
That touch, yes, that sweet touch, so motherly
I see you working all day to only come home to clean
and cook, and still have time for us amid your tank
being on empty
Oh, how you would be so beside yourself at my baseball
and basketball games
You didn't mean any harm; you did not want your
Only son to get hurt and just a chance to hear the announcer
Say my name
December 17, 2008, was cold, cloudy and so dreary
Just as that day, my heart was cold and void of that
radiant light that had kept me so dreamy
"Time heals all", "It gets better with time", now this is
all I've heard and all I continue to hear
Well, you all lied 'cause here I sit today and it still hurts
Like hell, brother is still trying to get in gear
December 17, 2008, I knew my life would never be the same
I tried to prepare myself and be strong but why do I feel like
Such a lame?
December 17, 2008, time literally stood still
Trying to pick up the pieces, but somehow I keep asking
Myself, "Is this for real?"
December 17, 2008: Mother Earth lost a dear queen
A woman so full of substance, strength, and love,
Yes, my dear Lorine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His language was colloquial~
the tongue of the field hand,
the woman hanging laundry in the wind,
the child chasing butterflies in the tall summer grass.
He heard their music,
the unpolished truth
in the rhythm of their days,
and created poems of roads less traveled, of snow and shadow.
He spoke softly like the wind
blowing through New England’s sugar maples,
the rustling of leaves that told of sap and seasons,
of roots gripping the stubborn earth.
He wrote of that patch of old snow stubborn, denying spring,
a metaphor worn smooth
yet still holding the chill
of a deeper understanding.
He knew this place,
the bite of wind,
the quiet conversation of the earth,
spoken in monotone.
His blank verse wasn't blank at all,
but an empty canvas stretched taut,
ready for the brushstrokes
of a farmer's hand, a lover's lament, a child's bewilderment.
His poetic technique
not just of form but of feeling~
the heart beating its own iambic pulse
in quiet New England afternoons.
He wrote with humble gratuity
not seeking grand pronouncements,
but the whisper of a leaf,
the argument a woodpile makes with winter.
Life, Frost seemed to say,
was not a theorem to be proven,
but a landscape in which to live,
each image he created a doorway, left slightly ajar.
Note:Robert Frost's last words are reported to have been, "I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." This quote, often paraphrased, reflects the themes of choice and individuality that permeate his poetry. However, it's worth noting that these words are attributed to his legacy rather than being an exact recounting of his final utterance, as he passed away on January 29, 1963. (duckai.com)
A HARSHNESS OF EXPRESSION
IT IS THE WINDOW THAT SHOWS
HIS POVERTY
SHAMED HE DECIDES NOT TO LOOK
IN EFFECT HE IS A DISREPUTABLE CHARACTER
THE HARSHNESS OF HER GLANCE
SHE DECIDES TO SPEAK FOOLISHLY
TO FURTHER SEPARATE HERSELF
FROM THOSE AROUND HER
THE HARSHNESS OF HER HANDS
SPEAK OF THE LACK OF
CONCERN FOR HER BEING
TIRED SKIN
AND A MEAN LOOK
THEY OFTEN EVER SMILE
EVERY EFFECT OF POVERTY
THEY WISH TO ESCAPE
THEN THOSE WHO WISH THEM POOR
MIGHT SEE THAT THEY REMAIN POOR
OR POORER
THOSE WITH SUCH POWERS MIGHT
HAVE CAUSED THEM TO BE AS POOR
AS THEY ARE NOW
WHO'S EFFORDS MAKE YOU POOR
SPOKE THE NARRATIVE
IN SUCH NARRATION MIGHT ONE
FIND A DISRUPTION IN THEIR
OWN TIMELINE
HE SPOKE OF HER AS A GODESS
THEY MARVELED AT HER WAYS OF
KEEPING HIM AT BAY: IT'S SAID SHE
ONCE TOUCHED THE WATERS OF
A CREEK IN CRETE AND THE
WATER FROZE AT HER COMAND !
HE STOOD IN THE WATERS OF HETRA
AND THE WOMAN OF CRETE, WERE
ENSLAVED TO HIM.
THE STORY SPEAKS OF WORDS
SPOKEN TO SEPERATE A PERSON
WHO WISHED FROM BEGGER, TO LOVER
SHE STOOD IN THE WATERS OF CRETE
AND CURSED HIM, AND THAN
SHE CURSED THE WATER GODS OF CRETE
AND LL WHO HEARD HER
BECAME LOVERS OF HIM.
THE WATERS FROZE BENEATH HIM.
" THESE SALTED FISHY WATERS
FROZE BENEATH ME!"
IT'S SAID THEY ATE THIS VERY MEAL !
PASTRY SHEETS
BUTTER
1/2 CUP OF OLIVE OIL
2 MEDIUM ONIONS
1 POUND OF SPINACH (BLANCED, DRINED AND CHOPPED)
4 CLOVES OF CRUSHED GARLIC
1/2 CUP OF SHREDDED CARROTS
3 t CONACGE
1/2 CUP ITALIAN COUSCOUS
1 LBS. GROUND BEEF
1 3/4 PLAIN YOGURT
1 T MACE
CAYEENE PEPPER
IN A SKILLET
1 TEASPOON OF PAPRIKA
2 CUPS OF SLICED MUSHROOM
IN A SKILLET, HEAT OIL, SPINACH, MUSHROOMS,GARLIC, ADD ONIONS AND CARROTS, SAUTE, UNTIL ONIONS ARE TRANSLUCENT., REMOVE FROM THE SKILLET.
ADD GROUND BEEF, COOK UNTIL BROWN, ADD SPICES AND SAUTEED VEGGIES, ADD COGNAC AND YOGURT, ALLOW TO COOL AND TASTE, ADD SALT AND PEPER IF NEEDED.
PREHEAT THE OVEN, ROOL OUT PASTRY SHEETS, LAYERING THEM AND COATING EACH LAYER WITH BUTTER. (FIVE LAYERS) IN THE CENTER OF A COOKIE SHEET, LAYER THE SHEET OF FILLO DOUGH, ADD MEAT AND CREATE A BEAUTIFUL WRAPPING FOR THE MIXTURE. BAKE UNTIL DONE.
THE WOMAN IN THE STORY IS SAID TO CURSED THE EDGES OF THE FOREST, WHILE GATHERING WOOD WITH HER SERVANT, SHE SPOKE TO HIM IN A FOREIGN LAUGAGE, AND BECAME PREGANT, AND DARED HER HUSBAND TO LEAVE HER. HER HUSBAND , STAYED, AND TWO YEARS LATER MADE HER SISTER POREGANT WITH TRIPLETTES, TWO BOYS AND A GIRL, AT THE AGE OF TEN ONE OF THE BOYS, TOOK A STONED EDGED MALLET AND BEAT A FULL GROWN BULL, HE ORDERED THE SEVANTS TO COOK THE BULL BEFORE HIS PARENTS CAME HOME FROM ROME. THEY DID AND NEVER TOLD, BUT THEY TOOK THE HIDE OF THE BULL AND MADE A RODE FOR THE MYTHIC GOD NATAL, AND CASTED A SPELL ON THE BOY. AT THE AGE OF TWENTY HE BECAME A SOCEROR IN THE PALCAE OF CASEAR, HE, HIS BROTHER AND HIS TRIPLETTE SISTER, SUDUCES CASEARS SOLDIERS AND MAIDS MAKING PREGANT AND HAVING TWENTY THREE CHILDREN. ONE IS SAID TO HAVE BEEN A cASEAR OF rOME!
even scrunching brow
defeats and doth be lie
this one measly mortal well nigh
tuckered out on par with calculating pi
tangential to asking if and/or
how i can access
fullest potential...say to write
about with the aid of symbols
i.e. letters to expound on an idea trite
or one that confounded mankind
many millenniums or quite
sum indeterminate orbits 'round el sol,
no ability within this mite
ova reproductive happenstance (yes me),
whom ye could tell go fly a kite
for inducing confusion,
but the nature of this har re: beast
with a little insight
gripped, harangued, rankled,
et cetera, thus communicates
hello or goodnight,
which understandable
simple words may not excite
as quotidian oft repeated philosophical
mental challenges
i didst expend effort to cite,
which mind exercises offers
no exit, ouch that doth byte
and if subjected to a brain scan
would blind technicians
and set alight
frenzied uproar amidst *****Sapiens
via intense thinking to induce blind
ness flailing at feeling trapped
asper being teased at find
ding no beginning
or end like a mobius strip
analogous to space/ time continuum
that little effort could
blow a fuse in the mind.
adieu: from matthew scott harris
hook halls schwenksville, pennsylvania
hiz home tow win.
Life brings knife to our dreams
Injecting us with pains and dooms
For in it resides sorrows
Enclosing us in death rows.
In sadness we curse the day thou came our ways
O! Life! Why art thou so cruel?
In pains we announce the departure of our wards
O! Life why art thou so cruel?
In tears we bury innocent babies
Stinging death like venom of bees
O! Life why art thou so cruel?
How do we narrate the story of the wretched grey hair
Our old die out of a heavy heart
Thou knocked down the poor orphan
Now oppressed by the rich man
In tears he bemoans his existence
For life has stabbed him with knife
In depression we gnash our teeth
Consistently confronted, with a struggle,
Oceans of tear, simultaneously juggle.
Though it's short, some live it like no other.
For some it's short but they never bother.
Like everything else, it will end
and we all shall one day say goodbye.
Floods of pain burst,
spreading a nest like lava beam
Silence,
A long silence beyond the nights,
Pale face, languid looks and teary eyes.
The universal force of nature,
forces our feeble frame to earth's harbour;
Helpless, and helplessly, we consider in awe.
Enthusiasm dissipates, and fears are enforced.
we are here today, looking through the lenses of time;
we'll be gone tomorrow as though we never lived
Alas, time mocks our ambitions,
calls us all mortals for so we are.
We are soon Gone. Leaving memories.
Like thousands, gone ahead we come to the journey's end
We walked this path, the minds eye remembers
We lose daily until we so become,
that moment, they come too quickly
and too quickly we are gone.