Long Encumbers Poems
Long Encumbers Poems. Below are the most popular long Encumbers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Encumbers poems by poem length and keyword.
Still baronial the feudal caboodle at the home of cricket
Colonial testimonial for a posh canoodle should picket
Ben used his noodle & won’t see Crawley surely nick it
Purely those who chose bacon egg clothes got a ticket
Neighbourhood of dons not wrong uns in St Johns Wood
Confess is a public school caress where members stood
Impress hamper-ed pampered and champered so good
Largesse epicurean finesse with Eton Mess for your pud
Spiffy faction only see pithy fraction of the action perhaps
Sniffy Telegraph on laps drinking clinking sinking schnapps
Aristocrat sippers in Gucci slippers round neck cravat wraps
Squiffy slumbers sarnies with cucumbers smoked salmon baps
Maps round the ground laps for the sound hand pull taps
Recover in the bar batters flaps to cover another collapse
Diehards doing hard yards tryhards with lanyards on apps
Iffy in a jiffy encumbers fiesta to siesta and afternoon naps
Real fans do obsess about the Black cap chaps prowess
Claps & reciprocal back slaps for underdogs feisty scraps
Kiwi bowlers wrist snaps out of the traps can be express
Batters when matters fielders energy saps finding the gaps
Rare Lords success Bazball under duress feeling the stress
Mystery..artistry...history of the Test tapestry fills me with glee
MCC forever twee picky with bow of dickie for every wannabe
Oh yippee will be many a yuppy but sadly not really any Kiwi
And poorer sorts without Sky Sports can’t even see it on TV
Let me carry you to a waiting star,
With this kiss on your lips, we’ll reach that far
Leave behind all that encumbers your soul
On pristine whiteness with me take a stroll
Hold my hand as I lead you to a place
Where you ‘ll be blanketed in love’s embrace
There is no echo and no living sound
As you and I tumble down to the ground
This rendezvous star is for you and me
There’s no one else our love making to see
We sprinkle stardust as we toss and turn
Temperatures rise as the star starts to burn
The small earth is millions of miles away…
On this throbbing star, forever…please stay…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Suddenly over the sudden years
I have felt an encumbrance; I sense an albatross -
the weight of sundry uncharted days.
Times I chronicle today as if I were a wax cylinder
and not the broken spool in a cassette tape.
A subfuse goose whispers: Record the sky for me.
I must write ‘sky’ ten times a day
so that the abated will not be forgotten.
Yet how to keep a goose-gray sky fresh
when the days are so metallically shiny and blue?
None recall the monochrome stories
we once told our color-blind children?
They have grown beyond such things.
I have so little time, yet must set down
the legend of little boy gray,
his history has almost passed away,
now eyes have no corners to see.
I knew him well, alas the roads to that tale
are backhoed by cartoon rainbows.
History calls me out into the park
where a lineage of dog leads the nose
to a yesteryear, a brawling time
free from the wow and weight of newness.
we lived then as historians leading other historians
upon trails of immemorial sensations.
Meadow larks meant something once,
but now look at them, they strut like roosters
over the journals of the dead!
History cannot now be cured; it is far gone,
its prone, hump-backed form encumbers
like a speed bump.
Wordsworth and his damn golden daffodils -
as if we did not know already.
I hover over histories sickbed
my impedimenta droop like the dewlaps
of a prodigal deity.
Only a moment ago history ran through hill and dale
as naked as an infant,
its fields were alive with love, war, and kapok -
a stuffed, full metal jacket;
a saucily heraldic Kevlar.
I breathe into histories colorless lungs,
there are flocks of moribund geese tucked into each
alveoli and bronchi,
they have plucked themselves naked,
they long for the ten sky’s
named in my cinereal histories.
I shoulder this burden of faded things,
this molting albatross,
all the trappings of then and thereupon,
these I place now in an ash lined
and crumbling
vault.
Across Dhariwaa i, with my brothers have walked
as the teachings professed come to life, we experience
no more the exclusion from our cultural being are the leanings discarded
its time to be our own critical friends, to be cultural allies and advocates for our families
the time for dance, song and ceremony is dawning
time for learning on Dharriwaa is our obligation
our youth seek us, our Elders seek us, so we must now seek our roles in the learning, our roles on country to be placed, accepted, fostered and passed on
the experience of life in our cultural selves is inspiring
living two worlds as worlds is our priority
humbleness and honesty our way, encumbers us to extend to others
Dharriwaa will provide, and we we accept with pride and humility
Minya nhalaay (what is this) - Ngiyani Yuwalaaraay-Gamilaroi (we are all Yuwalaaraay-Gamilaroi
As much as I love to watch her undress
and anticipate what her reasons for doing so might be,
I find nothing more erotic than to watch her step out of the morning shower
and begin to prepare herself for the coming day.
I lay in bed, pretending to still sleep,
sans the clothing that encumbers my peaceful rest,
secretly watching her go about the morning rituals.
Wrapping a towel around her wet hair while standing in front of the full length mirror,
taking a sideways glance in my direction to make sure I am still asleep,
which I feign so well,
before twisting and turning her torso to make sure no parts were oddly misshaped in the night.
Wriggling into a pair of undies, of various shapes and colors,
making sure they fit perfectly to flatter her curves
and applying makeup before going on her search for a misplaced brassier.
The faces she makes in the mirror that she flips back and forth
to alternately magnify then reflect her image
highlighted through the artful application of makeup,
make me smile.
I cannot prevent the twitching and rising of the sheet covering my manhood.
Then, the head towel is removed and her hair spills out.
The raised arms brushing and blow-drying her hair
provides the opportunity I needed to feast on her, still bare, supple breasts.
By now, she is pleased by, but pretends not to notice the affect she has on me.
When, finally, she spies a bra that suits her wardrobe selection,
I watch her carefully place each breast in the cup provided,
making the necessary adjustments for comfort,
before she begins ironing those items which she next will don.
The graceful dance she performs around the ironing board,
first with her blouse, then with her pants or skirt,
I openly watch and enjoy,
no longer feeling the need to hide my level of awareness.
Having completed her morning’s preparedness,
she approaches me for a good-bye kiss,
smiles at me,
reaches under the covers to where I have grown,
kisses me lightly on the cheek,
and says,
“Later”.
I love mornings.
In the society where holiness is worshipped,
And independent progressive thinking is condemned.
Be the fire of positivity, illuminating in all its glory,
Strong enough to burn any shackles of bigotry.
In the society, where mythologies are adored,
But people who actually follow the principles are abhorred.
Be the sun that overshadows all sanctimony,
Magnanimous enough in soul to establish harmony.
In the society where people are reduced to mere numbers,
And forcibly caged in narrow walls of encumbers.
Be the phoenix that shatters the glass walls of subjugatory,
Uniting them all to form an eternal, unyielding potential sanctuary.
In the society, where toxicity and oppression have become the norm,
And vital nutrition of the spirit is treated like utter luxury.
Be strong enough to uphold truth and demolish the demon in every form,
Giving voice to millions and saving faith in nature's divine perennialities.
Fire lust of the angry clouds doth cover envy
To fork the stars upon my ever-changing view.
The crestling being i endure to hold of many
Foreign thoughts to translate a bonafide rue.
Carnival of lights leave me starstruck
In a haste no more than that of my gloom.
No one who knows of this life are stuck,
In a waste of bittersweet cloves that bloom.
As I sink down to the combers of lies
Nevertheless leaving my soul to him.
This monster of foreign carnage dries
To a crisp, no longer able to freely swim.
Finally feeling a soft touch upon my flesh,
Where is this pale longing rose of red I dread?
This flying repent of lustful notions is all I thresh.
Please let me fly with you in this land of the dead.
Denies of my request shows to me how I feel,
Still though, carrying me much higher and higher.
This resentful flock of gloomy encumbers peel
My skin I weary of angry clouds doth burn a fire.
Rat a tat tat..from the off…doff my hat to that.. rare..great hair and flair pair…the cool cat and crazy cat..
Teasing twang…of the Pant and anti Pant thang..the genesis of a genius nemesis it brang..tomfoolery along with duelery schoolery.. pleasing tang of yin and yang..
Whole shebang rang of..sublime Pantomime..our hearts sang…pangs for the young gun in the gang to bare those fangs.. go bang..
His prime partner in crime…K L cool cat with the bat Rahul..skill.. old school rhyme..that first rate trait…so much time..plays it so late…the definition of chill pill..
Follicle oracle..bouffant penchant…..rock star locks…another dab..but never drab..not a spanker..devil may care to share.. smash and grab..like the fab Rishabh lab..
K L ..Indian banker and anchor..while our favourite clown wearing his crown and gown…even lying on the floor..running amok with stunning cunning..score with awe and round the clock shock..goes once more..downtown
Never understood why the red ball numbers encumbers.. as Rahul part of the seriously good with the wood brotherhood..
So why the hell…pray tell has K L..the silky sage..well..how can it be that he’s only
Got a Test average of 33..the same as his age…the game’s stats don’t lie…then why…
Not a hall of fame name..as won’t deny..I spy a wry sly superfly guy..
Add or subtract…can’t detract…a matter of fact.. the impact..
Run splatter..fielders scatter…can’t shatter the Pant..Rahul batter pact
Bestowing a glowing showing… us rapt at every act…let’s flatter the rule
Of old school KL cool Rahul and our favourite fool..
Dearly ranting gallivanting Panting madhatter..
Cos clearly opposites with the bat really do attract..
I would like to spill,
What is harbored in my soul.
I would like to say,
Things that no one really knows.
·
I’d apologize to you,
In a measurement beyond the stars.
For not being there with you,
Has left my soul this scar.
·
I’m reminded of the heartache,
From that dreadful day.
Of an ordinary time,
When God took you away.
·
I would’ve quickly taken,
The fate that you have faced.
Than to see your children suffer,
Savoring sorrows aftertaste.
·
If I had straps on my shoulders,
Attached to an antique plow.
You’d see deep ruts in the earth,
From the weight I carry now.
·
I’m harvesting my burdens,
In my open fields of pain.
In the drought of happiness,
Awaiting a smiling rain.
·
I’ve cultivated memories,
From the 3 years you’ve been gone.
Laying on glistening blades of grass,
That I cried on sorrow’s lawn.
·
I reminisce on the tears,
That only my heart knows.
Waiting for bouquets of smiles,
From the seeds I just now sowed.
·
I’m sorry you faced such madness,
Without me along your side.
And things could have been better,
Perhaps you would have survived.
·
I’m sorry I didn’t call you,
To distract your vivid mind.
But I replay those what if’s,
All the freakin’ time.
·
No one knows my heartache,
Of not biding my goodbye.
These are things I’ve harbored,
Way down, deep inside.
·
It feels like you’d still be here,
If I’d used my earthly power.
I’m sorry for not distracting you,
From your darkest hour.
·
This is a poem I had to write,
To regain my inner control.
And release my encumbers,
To unburden my soul.
·
You will always be my best friend,
A notion I’ll never condone.
You know I’ll await your answer,
When God calls me home.
_________________________
For Christie and Sharon's
"I'm Sorry" Contest
Guess what?
I am not perfect
Yet you call me Brother Lee
I've fail again my God and thee
Yet He's forgiven me
For He lent His life hung on a tree;
And for this I'm thank-fully
grateful
did I say thank-fully
Don't you judge me
You have no heaven and hell for me
I've been forgiven
Only thing good in me
Is
J E S U S
and His unmerited grace encumbers me..
Been bad
Yet, I've have also been good
But it's not totally depended on my good deeds
I've forgiven my brother's and sister's transgressions
For you see I to want to be forgiven
I am not perfect
Yet you call me Brother Lee
I've fail again my God and thee
Yet He's forgiven me
For He lent His life hung on a tree;
And for this I'm thank-fully
grateful
did I say thank-fully
For the only good in me
Is God's breath, His breathe of life in me
For the only good in me
Our His words I choose to receive..........
for thought I've fallen
yet I've gotten up
Now I stand before my sins
Washed in His blood
and now I AM a child of the King
Now I am truly forgiven
Don't you judge me
You have no heaven and hell for me
I've been forgiven
Only thing good in me
Is
J E S U S