Long Embassy Poems
Long Embassy Poems. Below are the most popular long Embassy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Embassy poems by poem length and keyword.
The Age of Man
We carried on
The age of man
Till moon of tin bore
An electric sun
And all machines
Shone bright and clean
Keeping silent
But wanting more
Till the purpose mind
Did loose its time
In idle waves lament
Through prostitution of evolution
A self induced torrent
Took his mind till eyes fell blind
Unraveled the very core
To spit it bright into the night
Every secret that endured
Till all the stars fell off in drought
Withered at the root
Every galaxy was brought to knee
By the embassy we took
And God came down
To spy our crown
In towers that we command
As every tree
Laid low to be
A place that we should stand
While all the earth
Gave up its worth
Mountains fell to sand
But those machines
All we could see
God left us standing there
So gathering the ways
Of all his days
His books and all his score
Scattered it high into the sky
Into the cloud he stored
Every thought
That effort bought
By page, pen and grave
And set to fire
By all his ire
Knowledge eons gave
While dirt of earth gave up its worth
Lay idle, a broken land
Gave lifeless life unto the night
And Metal, a full command
Till from the hearth soulless marched
The field of Mars and woe
To stand in line as engines grind
In that womb steel did grow
From something other
Than a loving mother
A milk of gasoline
In burning oil and writhing toil
A demon she did wean
So the thought machine
Did kiss our dream
As man must lay to rest
But that unblinking eye
Our thoughts did spy
And developed its own interests
And not one of we
Did need to be
Said that steel abhorrent pet
And once the master, fell fast, then faster
Until not one of we were left
An an age for I
The lidless eye
Not troubled by truth or dare
Stays unseen
By human being
And continues its lifeless stair
And rain came down from man made cloud
In that fog the Godless kept
All the ways until that day
And away it all was swept
She wanted to teach kids, so she went to R.S.U.
Much of it indoctrination, she didn't know what to do
She could walk out and forego her degree
Or play along, hide her views, and be less free
He put his boys in a school, that once was good
But it didn't teach the basics it should
They told his boys gender was fluid, and they were racists too
A waste of the kid's time, and it isn't even true.
Mr. Blinken had rainbow flags on every embassy abroad
Make traditional cultures think our values were a fraud.
D.E.I. had to pervade the department of state
Realpolitik had to be gender theory and ending hate.
Taxpayer funds are time - that you work to earn
Time wasted by fools; time set on fire to burn.
A woke hire was put in charge of a Med School to change its ways
The residents worked 20 hours in a row some days
But he inserted ideology, at the expense of class time
If a patient in future dies, is stupidity a crime?
Poseidon Desalination got permits, met all the reviews
But a committee in L.A. put an end, so Angelinos lose
The company spent over 20 years fighting off greens who sue
What a waste of time, and a loss of so much fresh water too.
They may talk in values that we seem to share
But do we want to be ruled by what they feel is fair?
Do we want to spend so many hours, for each virtue decree
Do we want the hourglass to empty, the businesses to flee?
Not in the sanguine ordinance of the heart, nor in the fugitive embassy of breath, but in that inviolate interval where succession relinquishes its crown, Love keeps its unspoken dominion.
Who schooled the blood in scarlet mysteries,
Or taught the clay such inward majesty?
Not flesh, whose borrowed splendours fade like seas
When Time withdraws its ancient sovereignty;
But that concealed and antecedent fire
Whose silence outlives every mortal choir.
I passed beyond the ivory walls of bone,
Where marrow held a vigil without name;
Where things forgotten before they were known
Lay folded in an immemorial flame;
And there the dark, unburdened of disguise,
Looked through my soul with uncreated eyes.
The heart, that bronze confessor of the dust,
Raised its twin thunder toward the vault of years;
One stroke proclaimed the visible world to trust,
The next dissolved beyond the reach of spheres;
And in that breathless cleft between the two,
Eternity remembered what we knew.
There Chronos laid his sceptre in the sand,
And Number lost the kingdom it had won;
The stars grew still beneath an older hand,
As night confessed the labour of the sun;
For Being, stripped of all its borrowed art,
Returned to the silence beneath the heart.
Then came the vision reason could not bind:
A shadowless bird passed through a mountain’s core;
No wound remained upon the adamant mind
Of stone that had endured the world before;
Yet from its depths there trembled into air
A song that no created throat could bear.
Then I beheld what no decree could prove:
Love was not flame, nor breath, nor mortal claim;
It was the interval where all things move
Before they enter form and take a name;
The hidden mercy no beginning owns,
The pulse between the marrow and the stones.
With weapons in his room he cannot much stay
Alone with his decision to blow up an Embassy:
He was desperate for a last blues of the new day;
Recently known on net, a girl from Tennessee
Wrote him how politicians body floats dead in the river:
Obsessive thought and hate was ready for risky tomorrow,
Love and Tennessee whisky were ready to be delivered;
Drawing mustaches and glasses, Pravda News might grow:
Come from Damascus, they don`t know the text better than us;
Her smile and his last cigar could start the new world war:
Under stars, they move in the night of their own choice, thus
The last Czar would meet a Tennessee girl somewhere, far:
Suddenly, tenderly she entered that Embassy: I am Miss Hope…
Her peaceful eyes would keep him like tied with a magical rope.
Oslo
I was in Oslo once and saw the old king
riding a horse, but I was a painting of the Danish king
the king of Norway is more moderate
he drives Bentley
The king and I are of the same age,
he looks stylish
in his admiral uniform with gold tresses
I wear a black T-shirt. shirt it has a pocket for my glasses
The t. shirt hangs on the balcony to dry
while I sit bare-breasted on the sofa, waiting for
the t. shirt to dry
it is the only shirt that hides my sagging stomach
The king was in Lisbon two years ago
the embassy
had a garden party, I was not invited, despite
I was the only true seaman among the lot
I blame the posh people at the embassy, who thought
I might ask the king for a bigger pension
As I said,
I was in Oslo many years ago, invited to read
poetry, which I tried to do, but next door
a horn music orchestra was training words that came
out of my mouth, died in the horrible noise
Yes, they had a flight to Lisbon this very afternoon
when the plane landed, I could have kissed
the tarmac, but being a Norwegian, I'm reserved
Whatever you do in life, you can't forget were
you were born
At Last the Hurricane
David J Walker
Ill east winds
wend the wings of
the finality of
the next mouning’s
dawn
on go those chosen
to sing beyond the
redoubtable vail
hurricanes await just
beyond todays horizon
life clinging to the failure
of exceptions
the portent signs rising
and ringing the morning sky
as pliant expectations
dissolve
and resolve
into alternate and
issuable uncertainty
the embassy is met with
the melody of the monody
and the emendation of
the new reality
it is to say
day by day
Life begins
Again and is
Called today
And ends tomorrow
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each day begins with pain refined to grace,
the body bent but never breaking—yet.
The mirror has no room for soft embrace.
A leap, a turn—each muscle must erase
the doubt that lingers like a hidden debt.
Each day begins with pain refined to grace.
The music calls, a strict and silent chase,
no step misplaced, no ragged breath to fret.
The mirror has no room for soft embrace.
Blisters bloom where satin ribbons lace,
yet pirouettes refuse to pause or let~
each day begins with pain refined to grace.
The stage demands what training can’t replace:
a will that burns but never leaves a sweat.
The mirror has no room for soft embrace.
And when the final curtain starts to close,
the ache remains, a ghost the dancer does not forget.
Each day begins with pain refined to grace.
The mirror holds no room for soft embrace.
The accompanying memoir vignette can be found at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/turning_pointe_13606
Not Forgotten
Psalm 137:5 "If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
let my right hand forget its skill!"
Psalm 137:6 "Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
above my highest joy!" (ESV)
On May 14, 1948,
The United Nations
Approved the proclamation
Declaring
The “Independent State of Israel.”
Seventy years later,
On Monday, May 14, 2018,
Jerusalem is recognized
As the capital of Israel
With the establishment
Of the American Embassy
In the City of David
By Donald J. Trump, the 45th president
Of the most powerful country
In the world:
The United States of America.
"O Jerusalem, we did not forget you.”
***
YouTube and Chis Hodge
It came as a surprise to me that Chris Hodge
has been banned on YouTube, a man of knowledge
worth listening to
He is an honest intellectual; as such, it is hard
not to be critical of the Jewish negative influence
in the world we inhabit
Of course, I see on Facebook that I have become
skeptical of, the wiseman Chomsky often appears
his criticism of Israel doesn't plow a deep furrow
The Iranian attack on Israel was a warning
as they couldn't let the Israelis bomb their
embassy go unnoticed.
I fear, since the Jews are always righteous and hard
done by, will retaliate, thinking by pushing the envelope
further, will get the USA involved
This will not be too difficult, as the Jewish lobby
practically runs the US's foreign policy, and for us
who have a dim view of Israel and are not optimistic
In a place called Three was an old Bowthorpe Oak
Where a prince had trumped up a throne,
And though he was young where the lullula sung
He vowed he will always be known.
Jack Russell had noted pledges tall toted
With a strong impulsion to play,
For dreams had been caught from power of thought
By the son of a monarch that day.
There he declared all he was aired
Occupied only originals,
And when he was grown, he would make it well known
Australia is owned by Aboriginals.
Suns and moons passed and decades long last
Melted mere memories of bling,
Rainbow occurred when riches were stirred
For once was a prince now the King.
Though the kingship was told, flaunted, and sold
With profit from all the unplanned,
Excited, delighted and many united
That day the crown took the stand.
Where kangaroos leapt koalas had stepped
Toward the public event,
Which happened to be near a known Embassy
Of certainty Sovereignty Tent.
The air of Jack Russell provided some muscle
Whilst winking at dancing dingo,
And there on the stage a new golden age
Came from a dream long ago.
Sun had transferred love that was spurred
For light was truth that was beamed,
"Australia is owned by Aboriginals"
‘Twas then the King was redeemed.