Long Etiquettes Poems

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


In defence of the profane - I

Profane words, poor things, scorned as contraband, 
In contrast arraigned with words weighed as sane 
That hold a moral firm ground-- for long grand.
Forbidden, they talk to us in words plain
But are powered by voltage of thunder clouds 
Which, words that wear civil dress seldom can.
What beauty-- words raw, truthful, not in shrouds,
Honest if rude, can do free from restrain!   
Not sure? Try stub your toe and mark your jibe:
Sage decorum nor yet homilies rife, 
Nor vague philosophical diatribe,
Nor yet poetic prompt on fleeting life!!
    Pain, no child of elegant etiquettes,
    Spews words profane-- flood flooding past floodgates.  
_________________________________
Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) | 17.12.2025 | profane, sane, words
Note: The part - II follows.
Form: Sonnet


Such a Dry Tree

When a tree dries  
It becomes like a plea 
Of a mannerless woman.

Roots feed and sustain 
The entire tree and branches;
And its leaves, long or short.

Such a dry tree
Stands alive while dead;
Its roots are uprooted.

The entire tree becomes lifeless
Its branches have dried up
And its leaves fall down.

Such is a dry tree
So will children born 
On a rootless woman

For it germinated carelessly;
It lacked good care and watering,
While it was sprouting.

Lack of good sap in roots
Dries the bark and the branches
Such is a damaged childhood
For basic etiquettes missed. 

Poem by Mugisho N Theophile

Volga 1 - 3

( while taking a tour through those poems readers are requested to keep in their hands,  a
feather from the pea-cock’s tail )

Volga - 1 

there might have been some provocation 
on the part of the  rat’s bible  

it is not known when and how 
every piece of sleep that spatters  
from the oesophagus of the dip-swimming  
has stick to the c-sharp 
of the newly-purchased tooth-brush

the air within the wish-bicycle 
figures nothing less

how much is it necessary now
to murder the blue-hue  with the study 
that can be saved by the depression of the Ganges-basin 
to develop the snap-shot of the garland-exchange with the 
antiseptic cream

would you think it for some moments 
my lord
the lord of the market

before sending any secret e-mail 
to the cyclone 
residing in the room 
behind the stair-case
let the Volga be read once more 
with all its clothes 
and hair-styles 

Volga - 2

the winter of the water-canon 
oxidised by the fireflies
wants to touch every bamboo-flute 
of this soil, it seems

as if it plays
in the body of every cauliflower 
 the total memorising-skill 
of  the blue and yellow pyramid

and if some lines of changes 
in the planet be added
the birth-day of the bolster 
that goes to the sea
may learn with a lesser effort 
the pollen-efficiency of the nail-marked walls

how much should I scold the squirrels 
who don’t want to swim
in the still-water of the black-board  

Volga – 3

the green-circuit of the fried-almonds
that was submerged 
in the open-hair of the afternoon
the whole-night workshop 
has taught 
the thumb-impression is to be put 
how far below it 

if the autobiographies are planted 
into the drawer of nature 
the solubility of the river-reed 
gets it done too late at night 

all the plus-signs around
from their etiquettes
come down   

so many foot-notes
caused by the season-changes

so before planting life 
to the address of the wall-lamps
it seems the cotton-flower
written by the oceans 
began yawning

Premium Member No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Sometimes it’s obvious
And sometimes subtle
That no matter what good you try to do
The universe rewards you with the opposite.

It might be as simple as the duality we create
By such intentions;
A materialist mindset
That falls into a Newtonian universe 
Of every action needing 
An equal and opposite reaction.

Bound by these rules of physics
The road to hell
Is certainly paved.

While beyond these rules
The wise and masterful play.

The problem is
Within the bounds of materialism
We are all slaves
Ruled by our own fears and hopes
Narrowly following our individual paths
Heads down
Our persistent plodding
The very force that turns the grind stone.

While beyond these rules - the etiquettes of a guest 
Needing permission to sit and stay, come and lay down -
The host in all His graciousness 
Allows us the freedom to be enslaved.

(8/4/23)

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