Long Eschew Poems

Long Eschew Poems. Below are the most popular long Eschew by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eschew poems by poem length and keyword.


Catch Me

Spontaneous and unannounced
They eschew the simmer
Only to emerge with the rage of a boil
These tempestuous thoughts
Dance brazen atop amber blue flames
They luxuriate inside the walls of my mind
Finding blossom in my impuissant fury
A tiresome firefight of blank rounds
I drop my knees to the Earth
As to increase my glare to the Heavens
This constant debate over rule of my ethos
Hangs with unforgiving weight
Like an empty medallion
Tearing at my aching fleshy nape
Will it ever End?

Beginning now
To see resplendence
Trees whisper to me from their towers
An aria of peace
Mellifluous echoes ring bright like harps in the wind
The emerald leaflets dazzle like sanguine doves after battle
I jolt back to my feet
Sparked by the vivid hues of a lifetime
The same ones the Reaper tries to collect
I believe I can now reach the cottony peaks above
As they sail along the foamy waves
Of richly azure sky
That I can see so clearly now

This pendulum of thoughts
Swings perpetual
In and out of halcyon days
With blithe disregard for my Eden
But yet I wait
I wait for an infinitude
Then I wait for another moment still
I wait like an old man waiting for the train to bring back his wife from the After
Staring down the tracks as they fade into the dark
Dark as a raven's feathers
Not daunting
But certainly full of the unknown

Finally
These thoughts of mine
Exhale like a mist
One that sprinkles fierce
Like fresh water
Striking off the wings of a hummingbird
Who flies indomitable through walls of sullen rain
I do my best to catch the bursts of Essence
And capture them on scrolls
Where they can live soundly
Forever roaring

Sometimes quietly I ponder
Maybe these thoughts escape
Reticent bastions deep within the fog
To be my Guardians
Steadfast and unfazed
If only to catch me one more time
Catch me from seeing only one color
Blank
Catch me from hearing only one sound
Harsh
Catch me from smelling only one scent
Nothing
Catch me from tasting only one flavor
Hate
Catch me from feeling only one feeling
Dead

Yes it is the thoughts that catch me
They do it without reason
They do it without question
They do it because they are me

I catch myself everyday
And I will continue to do so
As long as my thoughts can breathe.


January 21, 2016


Premium Member Niitthaar Perumai: the Fundamental Role of the Ascetic, Kurals 24, 25 and 26

Niitthaar Perumai: The Fundamental Role of the Ascetic, Kurals 24, 25 & 26, Translations with commentary

K24: niraimoli maanthar perumai nilatthu
         maraimoli kaadti vidum.
The might of men whose word is never vain,
The 'secret word' shall to the world proclaim. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
     * In the Pope edition of the Kural, this's number 28. 
He who guides his five senses by the book of wisdom,
will be a seed in the world of excellence. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)

In this world, the ascetic's greatness will reveal itself 
through (magically) unfathomable means. (Tr. T.Wignesan)

K25:  suvaioli pooroosai naarramen rainthin
          vagaitherivaan kaddee ulagu.
Taste, light, touch, sound, and smell: who knows the way
Of all the five, -- the world submissive owns his sway. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
*In the Pope edition, this kural is numbered: 27.
The world is within the knowledge of him who knows the properties of taste, 
sight, touch, hearing, and smell. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)

Only ascetics who control the five senses: gustatory, visual, tactile, auditory,
and olfactory - can influence (and possess) the world. (Tr. T. Wignesan)

K26: seyatkariya seivaar periyaar ciriyar
         seyatkariya seikalaa thaar.
Things hard in the doing will great men do;
Things hard in the doing the mean eschew. (Tr. G.U.Pope)
The great will do those things which it is difficult to do; the mean
cannot do those things which it is difficult to do. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)

Men who have renounced this world can do what is out of reach of those who
remain attached to this world. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
(Here, it would be tautological if "niitthaar' were to be translated  as"great or noble" men in the sense of the "jun tzu" of the Yi Jing. The emphasis is clearly on the element of sacrifice: the wilful suppression of the rewards of the five senses and their concomitant detachment of benefits available for selfish indulgence, so much so that a more literal translation would sound rather platitudinous, such as:
   Big things can be done by big people. Small men who attempt to carry out great undertakings will fail. 
In other words, the purpose of this couplet is somewhat dubious (it doesn't add to our knowledge); it rather looks like a "filling in" of the decade. T.Wignesan)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epigram

Wistful Woebegone Yesteryear

Perhaps like a lightning
bolt of clear out of the blue
rigor mortis (tenon and
three decades hence)
two thousand fifty nine if you
count from January 13th 2019, adieu

attest that day 9 months I did brew
in wound (of the late Harriet Harris),
now finds me loved ones
crying boo hoo,
after this stiff mortal
Earthling bid toodle loo

with symbolic casket
(carrying cremated urn of ashes)
remembrance attended
by gentile and Jew
sharing positive memories purportedly
about this nondescript 

fellow they knew
mainly indirectly, poignantly,
and wickedly shot thru
with his insightful humorous scribblings,
plus magnus opus titled
"How do ye do,"

an informal rambling missive bereft
of any subject and
devoid with little clue,
the purpose of said hefty tome 
out weighing The Federalist circa: knew
lee after American independence

Papers, written by true
purrs under the pseudonym "Publius" 
but great (as a great doorstop), or
alight as tinder for barbeque
since many admirers never
read his text written in Hebrew,

fluency acquired spending
final years he grew
old, since automatic citizenship
granted based on genetic goo
plus Mediterranean climate helped promote
longevity to century his health did hew

thus naturally pronounced philosophy,
where he drew
quite a wide web asper the many
claims Matthew Scott did eschew
to maintain longevity (more
quackery than science), but who

could dispute glorious
principles, not to poo poo
analogous to placebo effect
harmless fervent coping methods,
whether to cure ague
interestingly enough he cited ack hue

puncture for a gamut of physical ills
as well he did advocate chew
wing food (after taking small bites)
until mouthful became pulpy slew
(proponent of Fletcherism), this to
exercise dentures in addition

to maximize stew
pen diss experience of simple
routine eating view
wing thoroughly good (by George)
said quotidian activity grew
tubby spiritual, similarly basic

functions in general did get skew
ward whereby meditation on intrinsic,
metabolic and scholastic 
processes to name a few
added a dimension of enhancement prior to
exiting life into frontier mortals can only rue.
Form: Bio

Premium Member Lord God, You Are My Perfection Standard

May 8 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Job 1-3

Key Verse – Job 1:8 And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?

LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY PERFECTION STANDARD
                                                               
Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your glorious uprightness
Thank You for teaching me to abide in Your holiness
Ready to sanctify my soul from confessed sinfulness…
I need You to establish me upon victorious salvation-righteousness.

Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your triumph against Satan each day
Thank You for leading me to eschew and avoid evil’s ray
Ready to answer my requests when I fervently pray…
I need You to guard me from the Devil’s way.

Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your abundant blessing
Thank You for providing for me against crises’ oppressing
Ready to supply my fulfillment-yearning, devoid of panic-cursing…
I need You to grant me contentment, heavenly increasing.

Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your integrity’s authority
Thank You for transforming me to show divine nature’s identity
Ready to empower my spirit for servanthood’s functionality…
I need You to correct me of pride and false humility.

Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your eternal light, constantly bright
Thank You for seizing me out from futility of worldliness’ might
Ready to raise up my faith toward great performance-height…
I need You to cheer me with Your encouraging delight.

Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your required very best 
Thank You for strengthening me to labour to the fullest
Ready to reward my diligence of accomplishment’s zest…
I need You to hide me from arrogance and its destructive pest.

Lord God, You are my perfection Standard 
by Your absolute optimization
Thank You for enriching me with Your immortal treasures in my devotion
Ready to hedge my commitment around Your safety’s protection…
I need You to propel me toward faithfulness-maximization.

May 8, 2023
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Why Bother

The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts 
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.

The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
     flowing rags of worthless chattel
          that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
               my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.

Yet, still my need must pursue that dream 
     to create another verse so sublime as to define
          me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
               and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.

"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."

Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?  
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...

"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"

...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.

"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.

As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.

Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.

I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."

Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.


08/15/2018
Form:


Methacton High School Graduating Class Mcmlxxvii

diploma acquired magna cum laude – double entendre

Xlv years elapsed since
I (former long haired pencil necked geek)
bid alma mater adieu,
the quietest kid, who never said boo
nobody discerned handy dandy blues clue
what yours truly thought,
cause figurative blanks he drew
remaining quiet as a Unitarian church mouse
never uttered a dog gone peep
extrovertedness he did eschew
even now two score and five years

after donning mortarboard and gown few
and far between words spoken
courtesy me, a former
Norwegian bachelor farmer
Lake Wobegon mine imaginary home
solely without friends grew
impulse to become linkedin
through schizoid personality disorder
offered solitary existence
alone within emotional wilderness hue

cannot imagine loneliness
(analogous to be bajillion miles
from nearest neighbor
while housed within igloo
mattered not whether gentile or Jew)
at tender growing up age obliviousness
suffused every cell constituting
Matthew Scott Harris
interestingly enough yours
truly quite outspoken

thru dimpled cheeky
adipose characterized kazoo
flatulence courtesy pop slop
incorporating secret ingredient
intended to ward off licentious
pheromone exuding females loo
sing hormonal secretions,
anyway said unmentioned
quite tolerant spouse,
(who remained faithfully

married enduring quarter century)
despite incessant husband
buttuck blasting - courtesy moo
ving odoriferous soundcloud waves
issuing ass him tote across avast spatial plane
resultant impact on par with nu
cull lee air fallout ooh
noxious human air pollution pu
tress hint smell as natural deterrent
to sexual reproduction, nevertheless
semen aligned (alphabetically

by athletic prowess) think queue
wee warriors able, eager ready and willing to
increase chromosomal revenue
blaring semper fidelis
as lucky sperm pierces zona pellucida
wee acted screw yule us,
when call of the wild – bald truth
found me to ejaculate and spew
sticky goo, and stopped reproducing
after daughter number two
me unbiased, but both offspring
attractive in their papa's view.
Form: Rhyme

Recurrent Sneezing Fit

An infinitesimal slight speck tickled 
nostril follicle – activated via an itty 
bitty, nitty gritty dirt band noah bigger 
than a mole luck yule set in motion a 
chain reaction, whence mine sensitive 
proboscis honker (wheeze - hilly little 
bridged fine tuned pug nose aroma 
sensor), got unexpectedly in gauged 
(in holy matt trim mo’ knee) to achew, 
and eschew pledging troth (in favor of 
hanky-panky) found this chap feeling 
phlegmatic because an endless string 
of faux allergic emanations, which 
upon subsiding left me throat rather 
raspy and voice some octaves deeper 
akin to a coterie of celebrated jumping 
frogs from Calaveras County, California 
took residence and refused leaving 
stranglehold upon math rote upon 
awakening from a hard day’s journey 
into night across the outer limits 
of thine twilight zone resurrected 
during slumber, yet upon awakening 
felt much refreshed and hungry enough 
to eat a horse – nee – make that forced 
whore – gulped down within a hoof 
n hour and now recount how back in 

the day when zooming thru the Lilies 
of the Valley (whooshing mass elf tubby 
an aeroplane) frequent bouts with uber 
twittering snapchatting sinus attacks 
besieged crinkled, doppelganger expeller 
for germs hunting with his clean X 
instantaneously for nasal passages 
to enter surreptitiously the fecund 
effluvia dripping, oozing, and  seeping 
clear liquid as wintry cold air looses 
droplets from out a near frozen nose, 
which bloke knows not why frigid blast 
stimulates gallimaufry of sniffling 
to spurt into a volume of one after 
another gesundheit donning, snorting 
trumpeting unwittingly confusing 
Canadian geese, who misconstrue 
the honking from midway centered 
facial organ, which angry birds
in tandem with flock of Seagulls 
quite perturbed to espy one curmudgeon 
chap clapping hands over (what feels 
like Smashing Pumpkins on face) 
in an effort to stifle subsequent gummy 
emissions, which residue expectorated 
with heave hoe shove 
schnoz el tov blowing into snot-rag.

SAD TRIP

SAD TRIP:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES. 
Verse:
Rain is falling now, birds Seen flying high,
Snow from the cloud, night is drawing nigh.
Where do I have go, for I'm alone on the road? 
Please come save my soul...Since the weather is so cold.

Your absence, is crashing me, 
Your absence, is tearing me. 
Deeply torturing me, really breaking me. (painfully killing me). 
No time to lose you, come give me soothe. 
No time to eschew, Baby please I need you. 
Every piece of you, makes me cool.

Chorus:
Stucked on sad trip,( sad trip) 
Winter time is a bit steep. 
Wailing in icy pit, so deep. (myself, I and me) 
Heart beating fast, the feeling's harsh. (heart beating fast, the feeling's harsh) 
Come save me, my pretty crush. 
Wine served with barbeque,
But can dine without you.
Baby, bring in the sweet mood. (bring in the sweet mood) 
Bring it to me your beau. 
Sad trip(sad trip) 

Bridge:
Ooh,ooh,ooh
Sad trip (bad trip) 
Baby, I can't sleep. 
Ooh, Ooh, ooh
Remember your promise and keep. 
Don't let it slip. 

Verse 2:
Darling, please come give me light, hold me tight. 
Sluggish man I hate to be, please understand(mm) 
Where are you? I'm here, Come hold my hand. 
We can actually rekindle our love light. 

If you leave, I won't have any heart to live. 
If you leave, I won't ever be able to breathe. 
With what exactly can be a bit of mind peace, 
For me to live without you, please? 
If you leave, life won't be fit. 

This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES. 

Chorus:
Stucked on sad trip,( sad trip) 
Winter time is a bit steep. 
Wailing in icy pit, so deep. (myself, I and me) 
Heart beating fast, the feeling's harsh. (heart beating fast, the feeling's harsh) 
Come save me, my pretty crush. 
Wine served with barbeque,
But can dine without you.
Baby, bring in the sweet mood. (bring in the sweet mood) 
Bring it to me your beau. 
Sad trip(sad trip) 

Bridge:
Ooh,ooh,ooh
Sad trip (bad trip) 
Baby, I can't sleep. 
Ooh, Ooh, ooh
Remember your promise and keep. 
Don't let it slip.
Form: Lyric

Wordsmiths Worst Nightmare

Wordsmith's worst nightmare

fortunately thwarted courtesy 
mine tall tale telling flair.

Mine irretrievable brilliant masterpiece...
all for naught after mental cogs and wheels
I did apply creative juice metaphorical grease
regarding tour de force pièce de résistance writing
forever lost to the annals of human history.

So much for escaping to paradise island
(Garden of Eden) and experiencing zen
Impossible mission to earn untold yen
concerning prosaic poem/ poetic prose titled
The old battleaxe and her henchwomen
irrecoverable linkedin to sinking feeling
hours, days, weeks... all spent for naught
dharma bum - me got doled out unfair

injustice though scoreboard (tabulating
when yours truly acted immoral) oddly even
Steven after I repented against
marital infidelities nearly cost priceless
paternal love of daughters, whereby
their father experienced
suicidal ideations thought
to drown his sorrows
overdosing on fen-phen.

A transcendent awakening
occurred within noggin of one simian
a clothed outlier caged within human zoo
predicated upon his overactive imagination
inextricably favorable ratings did woo,
albeit ephemerally savored renown, and true
value viz his great Magnus Opus,
whereby riches couped courtesy
brief brush with fame and glory
found countless people lined in queue

(and moment of morning glory
subsequently slipped
thru gnarly butter fingers
symptomatic of nervousness
exhibited courtesy an aspiring Nehru
case in point my pal Joey, a kangaroo
dear reader pardon
tardy greeting regarding helloo
cuz decided against formalities,
a nonestablishmentarian he doth eschew
no ghostly chance I merely utter boo!

Unlikely I scared
the living daylights out of you,
nor would that be intent
regarding self taught amateur
practitioner of voodoo
I rarely if ever cast spells,
nevertheless yours truly
still under probation
and peer review
so breathe easy, cuz Matthew
Scott Harris would hate
to tarnish reputation of Guru,
that charming humble fellow
he taught me wizardry.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Social and Political Pulse

Written 24, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Politics Contest
                      ___________________________________

Politics is what triggers nations to collide.
A place where power and ambition coincide.
Oh, the acrimony of aspiring to be a politician.
To navigate the hazardous tides and mission

The first thing they master is to never say yes.
Since the thrill of politics is rife with impress.
You're required to dazzle, prevail, and flourish.
And convince the populace, inspire, and nourish.

A campaign—a search for fans, a quest to know
Promising alternatives, with a chance to show
What the population genuinely desires
That you may fulfill their wishes and inspire.

They express their imprint on the political stage.
A lively hug, a brittle society, a burning cage
Should no cotillion of stigmas, no excision of a few.
To avoid immoral speech and unsavory eschew.
 
Gone are the days when luring was hard.
Now, with the gift of persuasion, you can discard,
Human minds have evolved, times have changed,
But darkness and sin have also been arranged.

We operate in harmony, never to stigmatize.
We prize no demimondaine, no social pragmatize
In the history of our society, there are evil deeds.
We embrace the ideals of brotherhood and creed.

Red and blue are our only choices.
Divisions and conflicts, our society's voices,
Genocide, broken treaties, and illness
Insulting names, cultural destruction, and distress

We envy to induce people not to become illiterate.
We may spur elders and penurious, if considerate,
No sectarianism or partying; no debating whence.
Yet, in a culture where virtue is of high precedence

I can't walk in my niche, yet I'm apprehensive.
Politics and society as a whole are impressive.
Courteous decisions are diplomatic and wise.
For the commonweal betterment, we devise

In this smooth domain, where everyone is heard,
We build a society that stands undeterred.
integrated society, a beacon of hope,
Where harmony and justice in a melody cope.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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