Long Eschewed Poems
Long Eschewed Poems. Below are the most popular long Eschewed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eschewed poems by poem length and keyword.
If slavery was a choice, as some have agreed, then what are we?
If watching your father and mother endure rape or murder was a choice,
Then why do we sit on idle hands, while Trump eradicates our posterity’s opportunities,
As if they were written in sand?
If not being able to read was a choice,
Then why do you go to the PlayStation in a rush
while your library card collects dust?
Even a Ward educates themselves,
Even the eunuch Greyjoy developed the courage to stand against evil.
In the midst of upheaval, one mustn’t look through a straw while planning the future.
The sagacious knows fighting must be eschewed when only death is in thy terms.
Allah heard their suffering, but sometimes the way out is through.
They didn’t endure out of docility or obsequiousness,
But out of discernment and sagacity.
The desolate doesn’t become prosperous by exclaiming tumultuous absurdities,
But by embodying opulent minds.
Go back to the mother, which is the way, and endure the storm,
While being metamorphic in form.
You see, my Kings and Queens,
The only choice they made was to give their posterity a fighting chance,
To gather strength while the usurpers wane and start to underestimate.
We must pick up the quill and write our own fates,
No more brooding or carping about what Donny Thrump is doing.
One man’s decisions determine another man’s life,
As much as a drought challenges the land.
Yet, life, like the Way, will always find a path to flourish,
Forevermore permeating even the harshest conditions.
We must stop talking about what great leaders and men should be,
And become Great Men and Assiduous Leaders.
We were the first great civilization and shall act as such.
Lead with grace,
Strike with prudence,
Read great books that enrich the mind,
Treat each other with unyielding reverence,
Because we each carry a piece of the divine.
I am that I am, and I am my brother's keeper.
I delight in your twaddle inside me, young girl.
Restore the golden-pink gleam with a swirl.
Memories of who've died or are close to dying.
Delve deep, according to inner-child supplying.
Taking apart each self that has been dark-dyed
Then, closely dig up the shimmering past's side.
Until we draw a kinder rainbow hue, we must wait.
Vacant space below crops and owned bogs is fate.
I witnessed my parents waiting at the school gate.
I spy my father wandering the area near the grate.
The stems of ivy felt alike wings around her neck.
I can view my mother eschewed quickly to the deck.
ignited by her tenderness and exuberance.
Hijinks start here, unlucky protuberance.
Her giggling sounds akin to the essence of life.
Her grin, which is always braw, stops any strife.
Written: May 1st 2023
Pouncing across the white pinwheel flowers,
dancing to the delightful tunes of breeze,
Blue beauty performed an air show for hours;
For a few moments, my sorrows she seized
Displaying a kaleidoscope of hues,
like a vibrant tableau, she unfurled views;
With bright blue colour, she blew off the blues
And my worldly worries I just eschewed
From bright royal blue to emerald green,
swapped colours, swiftly like a magician;
Her wings a canvas of shimmering sheen;
To find her name was my only mission.
Banded peacock is her beautiful name
Oh! Now, All I can do is just exclaim.
Oct-05-2024
Family foibles and festive baubles to share
Frivolity frolics jollity & alcoholic histrionics
Swilled fables & tables filled with similar fare
Suggestive seasonal strolls for restive souls
Cast bitten still smitten bestilled by chilled air
Bedevilled dishevelled by some distilled wares
Pagan past perch in their old peculiar church
Dare to revel with another level devil may care
No graces or airs just familiar faces and lairs
Don't be reckless or feckless this Michaelmas
Feuds rude moods eschewed along with despair
Plied with yuletide pride bliss of this solstice kiss
At last no faff or fuss for us secular Christmas fayre
Behold! the captive noble moon
What strange romance finds imbued
Fanciful ornamental might
So unearthly in its light,
Behold, a gown of primrose sky
A hue more darkened by the night
Each hour weaves its colours bright
The gush of polished vesper-eyes
Yet no star nor sphere of grace
Thrust in motion, held in place
Nor yet in all the wealth of space
Candent novas, solar raced
Hides the beauty or the trace
More divine than shapes thy face’
Tis as the heavens clustered low
And in a sweeping gleaming glow
Spend their glory all on thee
To be a shadow shaped by thee
Or yet in glittering so bright
A mere silhouette of eyes
And may she cast, O! dare she cast
With eyes of heaven looking past
Ife she gaze my soul is bound
As sure as fleets in oceans drown
In the vast, shoreless doom
Ife wave and tide do make their swoon
When all the sky is stirred
And all the whirlwinds move the earth
In circles to one gathered eye
To swallow sea, and land, and all beside
A circle in the gathered gloom;
One thought-like starfall chasing you.
Here all the limits of the universe
The rayless star of sunken mirth
Whose hunger rages like a man
What power consuming all it can
-the frosted, nameless little moons
Orbits which are not eschewed
Yea, no sphere! no star, nor comet cast
nor jeweled rays once gleamed, long past
Can mark the beauty of thy face
They are less-for they waste
Those days when friends were crystalline true?
I certainly do and oh, the pain of
that remembrance, makes be blue.
Whom can I trust when the sun doth
in its crimson bed set?
To whom, open this broken heart to let?
The internet is a cold, two-edged, very
sharp knife.
Not to live on, nor trust if you want
a fully~ satisfied life.
Let’s see the courageous souls who
can reply to this poem.
It will make most, itch, quirky and roam!
People prefer to run and hide, if they
have an issue with you.
Why is direct communication a thing
here a matter so eschewed?
*This is my point of you. It need not be yours.*
3/21/2022
You say, "Why don't you smile?"
Don't you know it is vile?
Ugh! you are forty-five
Your words should fortify
My work like a rabbi.
On our first official
zoom, you cry at facial
gloom. Psst! Now sadness looms.
I know, never a womb
Has seen this vested room.
Your grand client lineup
Makes your word a decree
So see, when you treat me
Like Clinton in lineup
You see wavering eyes
Signalling for time up
Can you not feel the tension in the air
The strained smiles and the creaking of the chair.
I'm new, this is my debut in this venue
My face confesses the confusion in lieu
Of confronting my tenure in your crew
You could have eschewed my blue hue
Or lightened it with a quip or two
But no, now we have to continue
Like mildew until my adieu
Rhapsody of rainbow
morphs melted
into morose mélange,
scattered in sullen sky.
Bleeding colors bleached
from twilight cloud
ruinous rainstorm daubs
as derelict blemish
on abandoned shards
of broken heart.
Shades of blue
permeate pining
frayed linen
of lost love.
Requiem of roses
resonates profound
in melancholic concerto.
Drooping petals languish
for dripping tear drops
of mourning dew,
desiccating dismayed
in somber sunshine
in deserted mind,
where for bracing
cold desolate stone
fallen flowers
make bouquet
for deceased passion.
Cacophony capsuled
in suffusing cauldron
of mute melody,
lost in tempestuous sea
of incongruent tune,
chaotic symphony
dismantles harmony
on discordant waves.
Synthetic smiles sneer
scarred scenario
of lonesome life.
Sanguine songs turn
to convoluted noise,
echoing in solemn soul.
Lattice of life
seen through
languid cynic lens
magnifies mystified
into crooked contortion
of eschewed essence.
How then shall I sleep and dream,
when I close my eyes those scenes stream unabated clip by clip
from memories of the times I wasted?
Youthful follies say the wizened old
who lived in times of long ago when paths were certain
with well-planned markers paved upon the way.
Dreams were simply monsters pushed back into closets
and hidden under beds;
prim and proper ruled the day and eschewed the night,
forgotten whimsies used to frighten wayward children.
Obligations interfered when the storm of you came rushing in
to crash against the breakers on the beach of duty to my class,
with walls of aristocracy preventing breaches ~
There is no room for pauper poets in those mansions
far above the stormy shore.
Will this be the last poem I ever write
Will I be drafted in the morning to fight
A fearsome enemy by dark of night
Or might I awaken to see I've lost my sight...
Will the sun come up like it's supposed to do
Will the heavens turn jet-black instead of blue
Will the temperature soar well past forty-two*
Will a wall of humidity mean hopes eschewed...
Sure this could be the last poem ever I pen
Yet the Lord might keep me around 'til 110
So I lay me down tonight, put my trust in His Grace
That I'll wake up tomorrow with a smile on my face
*42 degrees Celsius = 107.6 degrees Fahrenheit