Long Extraordinaire Poems
Long Extraordinaire Poems. Below are the most popular long Extraordinaire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Extraordinaire poems by poem length and keyword.
You are my life and in that I believe
Always my love will be only for you
Flattering though that sounds I must confess
My first love is chocolate - sad but true
Sensual visions to capture the feel
Bringing the contours of wind sculpted plains
Hold that thought even though I love it so much
Must let the dog out before he drives me insane
Shimmering soft on the eclipse of love
Cloudless these evenings of star sprinkled mist
Just looked - no lustrous stars in this sooty sky
But stay for chocolate drizzled cake - I do insist
I drink in your fragrance
Tasting the flavors, your moistened lips
I heard something of interest today,
Chocolate doesn’t go to the hips
Kiss me ‘midst the maples
Kiss me ‘long the shore
Kiss me o’ my precious one
Now and ev’r more
Its thirsty work I must confess
This kissing and walking along the shore
A chocolate sundae sounds rather good
At that quaint little place that I do adore?
I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
My! you do know how to set the mood
I can’t go past this - you do know me
The night feels right the lights are turned low
What’s this the video has stopped? Hello!!
Johnny has left the building? Just when I wanted more
No matter- my debonair poet of delight
Conjure me up some George Clooney tonight
Well set aside your chocolate pie
For Hollywood is coming by
And as you explore your favorite star
I’ll enjoy that Hershey bar
Oh Fickle Heart chocolate second placed?
From gold to silver - it’s now displaced
Footnote:
I’ve used George Clooney as he is globally acclaimed as the most favored flavor in the ratings.
Personally, I favor the more 'Bono' type - (I love his voice)
Paul David Hewson, known by his stage name Bono, is an Irish singer-songwriter, musician.
Acknowledgement:
My deepest appreciation to Chris Green, poet extraordinaire for sparing some of his wonderful talent and collaborating with me to bring you this arrangement.
Copyright © Maria Williams & Chris Green | 12 July 2017
Bully me, yours truly
never ordained, gifted, or blessed
with mien mean characteristic
evoking, jump/kickstarting,
representing, nor zapping
friend or foe courtesy fiery intimidation
if anything aura, charisma, dogma, and karma
emanating, issuing, and oozing out
body electric of one heretofore bookish fellow
immediately facilitates characterization
hashtagged lucubration and manifestation of quietude.
Though true agitation transparent to passersby
soul asylum of sexagenarian beleaguered
with invisible mailer daemons
that hound the psyche
of this doggone muttering bonafide wordsmith.
In argot of polymath author of these words,
(the modestly noteworthy
opportunistic, poetic Matthew Scott Harris)
essentially he describes himself
as a generic simple Simon,
who never met a pieman
his mellow outward demeanor
belies, harbors, and represses
a quaking, raging bull, and seething
tempestuous storm beneath the calm,
which faux placidity
shields a woke monster
(donned in Harris tweed and Scottish tartan)
mashing everything in his wake
courtesy huge feet
resembling puff daddy bear paws.
Though found out later in life
than most muggles
aforementioned humble
human like bipedal hominid
discovered extraordinary ability
to morph from dimwitted dork dweeb
into grim faced, frightful,
albeit gentle unassuming
pygmy up by the petard giant extraordinaire,
which latent superpower
never served him in good stead
to ward off cruel classmates and peers
tormenting teasing taxing
terrorizing treatment til tears
trickled down my cheeks.
Every now and again,
when some nasty brutish beastly lout
dares to utter colorful invectives,
a gradual transformation
slowly but surely occurs
within every baited cell
(automatically summoned, triggered,
and unveiled courtesy a bitterly
deadly force to be reckoned with
deep within these lovely bones)
witnessing sudden bravado and daring do
additionally helped along after I discretely
chomp on powder milk biscuits
(the secret recipe only known
to forbidding Norwegian bachelor farmers)
giving an unexpected
judicious Hawaiian punch
to the loathsome miscreant
(never knowing what hit him)
knocking said thug out in cold blood.
Apostle Matthew encountered...
artist, dragon and gangster extraordinaire
Written September ninth,
two thousand and twenty one.
Reposted exactly three years later.
Here at 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Actually all three people
linkedin to each other courtesy
Dissociative Identity Disorder
(Multiple Personality Disorder).
Wiccan up to mystical alien way
I raptly listened as she didst soothsay
scanned -- din heavy yen reference
about paganistic folkloric history
regarding Sweden and Oslo (also) Norway.
The missus dubbed
aforementioned young gal "curvy girl,"
a zaftig smart young woman
super talented self taught herself
to draw, sketch, and paint.
Only unmarried millennial men need apply,
perhaps someone who hails from buckeye
state - ideally above average
humorous gallivanting fellow
plus somewhat meshuggeneh cockeye
Louie garden variety
wealthy eccentric recluse
who doth blatantly defy
establishmentarian paradigm
you rarely espy,
cause he stays sequestered
about dozen doors down
from (femme fatale) ha
said alluded to chick named
three faces of
eve vent jewel one named Jen Fry
easy on the eyes
courtesy me, a generic guy,
who experienced amicable chat
referencing aforementioned lass
the first encounter with her
found yours truly saying "hi"
devoid of ulterior motives
only casual acquaintanceship did I imply
cuz even if this former bachelor
(got married twenty fifth of July
nineteen hundred and ninety six)
hypothetically decoupled,
cuz the age difference between us
quite substantial qua aging baby boomer
born two years after Bridge
over the River Kwai
filmed - then rocked to sleep
courtesy Brahms lullaby
if fain to sire offspring with lass
(young enough to be my daughter)
kiddos would witness their papa to mummify.
Our friendly communication
peppered with structures of silence
coasted along with zest
and dialed up quite lathered dialogue
betwixt us I do attest
mutual comfort level quickly established
between yours truly
and said attractive beefy babe,
who possessed killer thunder thighs
shaking the entire firmament.
1.
Material life in the Material World:
Duality in every direction:
As Heaven above is,
So, the earth below:
With every delicate, red, mysterious rose,
A proverbial, wounding thorn ...
2.
Suburban splendor:
A life of "quiet desperation";
Holy apparition, manifestation,
Suburban confession:
One fine, fine house;
Five exquisite rooms inside;
But not one friend
In any one of them.
One calls through the door of each:
There's no reply; nothing; nada;
Just the sound of the proverbial "crickets chirping".
But unlike the stand up comic, struggling on stage for
A laugh, facing the blank, staring faces of the audience,
One knows there's no one "out there",
Knows one can't "hear them breathing".
There's only solitude,
Only the sound of one's own heart beating,
Finally coming back to one's senses.
3.
Chance, chaotic and mistaken:
Father and child suddenly, unexpectedly -
Trade mutually alienated, hostile glances,
Father versus child, the father the fool -
In an existential fog:
Another small, quiet death,
Saving beauty lost,
A moral universe crashed and burned,
For now ...
4.
Endless summer:
The Ides of August
[Ancient Roman feast day for the slaves]
Sunday, August 13
Summer vacation at the shoreline;
Somehow, girlish and laughing,
Diana in tow, eyes alive;
And there, some way thriving:
Every mother, every daughter,
Every child: Loving, fervent prayers to the Goddess.
And a night like a dream:
Dreams dreamed asleep,
And ones dreamed awake;
The flower of the day time
And the flower of the night.
With gentle whispering, a sigh,
Ghostly pale, water lilies stir -
On a slowly, softly brightening shore -
Awaking, enraptured, basking
In a full moon's timeless glow.
[Above poem in honor of
Edgar Allan Poe, American poet; writer; editor;
literary critic extraordinaire (1809 - 1849);
And of Fernando Pessoa, renowned Portuguese poet;
writer; literary critic (1888 - 1935);
And of George Harrison, of course, phenomenally influential Beatle;
singer/songwriter/musician; producer; Hare Krishna devotee (1943 - 2001);
Haribol!]
Marcus, as a child heard it all, the oral stories
Ancient in glories quickening his vein. Like blood
Rolling where the Roaring river runs, peonies
Calling up ancestral history in dream and flood
Unfold desires of in streams of African blood
Sentinelling the separate walls few understood
Grand visions comes from simple pains, O Garvey
Answer the call again, for we who forged oneness
Respecting constitution and creed, have tasted sourly
Vast tons of alienation, injustice, and wretchedness
Even Fanon could not describe. We need community
Yearning to build, yearning to rise, unshackled by history.
Malcom took the mantle towards a promise land
Angry and disgruntled using words for magic wand
Leader extraordinaire, do you remember him, Harlem
Clad in the beauty of your power, a black diadem
Overtly demanding that the police freed a wronged son
Master orator, how brief our black comets run
Let him remain an X to slavemasters filthy game
Inspired by greed to dehumanize us shackle shame
To our least Trans-Atlantic memory. But I will trace
True to the Little's pedigree, your father's Jamaican face
Leaving Maroon Town, St James, for this Egypt dark
Eke-ing existence to your soul, O what glory did he spark!
So Stokely, the Kwame Ture who died like a forest leaf
Thundered from your mountain with intellectual grief
Only a child barred from jim crow restroom and restaurants
Kindling racial pride could understand. Your spirit haunts
Eternally gloried diased ignorants. Starved by segragation
Lunch counters closed like social doors to all the race
You stood up, shouting power to minautor and monsters face.
Angela Davis, O how the pack hounds howled, pursuing you
Natural beauty, legally schooled, and yet an outcast
Granted no justice or reprieve while fearless for an alternative view
Etched upon the soul and suffering from the angry past
Lady, there is no statuesque liberty sweet as you
Leader of a ghetto stand so black men would not die invisible
Excluded by a muted history. This tribute is from all of us over due.
I am the link to the god all mighty
The grand master of this world
Dollar marks and social security carts
I am the warrior of this waste
The revelator of the word made to taste
The most high, the conduit to creation
The grand motivator
I shake your money maker
The rejuvenator on high
Feel the coming of my fire
The revelator extraordinaire
I am all
I think
I am the word in flesh & desire
I'm here to destroy and redistribute, redesign
Hallelujah, I'm here to tell ya!
The revelation of the revelator
Extraordinaire!
So dig down deep and scrape that coinage
Off that chewing gum and chaw
And give, give the holy dollar in sacrilege
As I rise above the great fanged maw
I'm the holiest of holy all praise the
Orange God, meet the prince, el Presidente
the Anointed One, hallowed be thy name
its kingdom come
on his toilet of golden as it is done
his holy war will be fun...
I'm the revelation the way to his pockets and praise
I'm the evaluator
The motivator
The ecstasy of one
Hollow be thy name
His kingdom is undone
His crown is crashing down
Holy is thy name the grand revelator
NO! Not a sound...!
Your online's only motivator
I am the kink to the all mighty
The grand wizard of this world a' rage
I am the war layer of this waste
The revelator of his word
I do not make haste...
The most holies of high,
The conduit to destruction
The antithesis of one
The grand exploiter
I carry the golden gun
The rejuvenator on high,
The ejaculator between succulent thighs!
Feel the coming of my fire
The revelator extraordinaire
I am all I think I am the word in flesh n fire
I'm here to destroy, redistribute, n redesign
Hallelujah, I'm here to tell ya!
Dig deep and give, give, forgive
The price to heaven, the keys to the pearly gates...OH YESSS....
Between these revelators weather clad highs
I'm the revelation
The elevator
The revival of most high
The master of nigh
Revelations n ruination…
REVELATOR
Surprise!
Apostle Matthew encountered...
artist, dragon and gangster extraordinaire
Here at 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Actually all three people
linkedin to each other courtesy
Dissociative Identity Disorder
(Multiple Personality Disorder).
Wiccan up to mystical alien way
I raptly listened as she didst soothsay
scanned -- din heavy yen reference
about paganistic folkloric history
regarding Sweden and Oslo (also) Norway.
The missus dubbed
aforementioned young gal "curvy girl,"
a zaftig smart young woman
super talented self taught herself
to draw, sketch, and paint.
Only unmarried millennial men need apply,
perhaps someone who hails from buckeye
state - ideally above average
humorous gallivanting fellow
plus somewhat meshuggeneh cockeye
Louie garden variety
wealthy eccentric recluse
who doth blatantly defy
establishmentarian paradigm
you rarely espy,
cause he stays sequestered
about dozen doors down
from (femme fatale) ha
said alluded to chick named
three faces of Jen Fry
easy on the eyes
courtesy me, a generic guy,
who experienced amicable chat
referencing aforementioned lass
the first encounter with her
found yours truly saying "hi"
devoid of ulterior motives
only casual acquaintanceship did I imply
cuz even if this former bachelor
(got married twenty fifth of July
nineteen hundred and ninety six)
hypothetically decoupled,
cuz the age difference between us
quite substantial qua aging baby boomer
born two years after Bridge
over the River Kwai
filmed - then rocked to sleep
courtesy Brahms lullaby
if fain to sire offspring with lass
(young enough to be my daughter)
kiddos would witness their papa to mummify
Our friendly communication
peppered with structures of silence
coasted along with zest
and dialed up quite lathered dialogue
betwixt us I do attest
mutual comfort level quickly established
between yours truly
and said attractive beefy babe,
who possessed killer thunder thighs
shaking the entire firmament.
Stella, you are my sister and my friend, a woman so strong.
You’re friendly, funny and with soul, you sing a song.
A beautiful woman, great mom and loving grandmother;
for my sister, I wouldn’t want any other.
I feel I have been so blessed
with a sister who is the best.
I can tell you my secrets, no matter how absurd.
You never judge me; you just giggle and say “awkward”.
You were there with me when I had my first child.
You helped me stay calm and keep my temper mild.
I remember you said, “When you push, it won’t hurt.”
After my first push, “You damn liar, it still hurts,” I did blurt.
I can’t help but smile and laugh at so many memories we share.
I know deep in my heart, when we’re both old with grey hair,
we’ll still be laughing and finding humor in each day,
even if it’s just making fun of girls who obsess over our brother Ray.
God has given you a special gift of creating beauty out of blank canvas.
With each paint brush stroke, you bring to life a picture that’s first class.
Sister, I’m so proud of all you do
and the bright future in store for you.
You’ve been fighting such a tough battle; you keep the faith and never quit.
There’s no doubt that you will beat breast cancer and conquer it.
You’re strong, so courageous and I look up to you; you inspire me.
I want to touch people’s hearts and souls as you have touched many.
If I can touch the heart of just one person, maybe two,
I will feel my life wasn’t wasted; I want to be a blessing like you.
My sister, my best friend, you’re always there to encourage me.
You make me want to be a better woman and be all I can be:
Super mom, successful career woman and poet extraordinaire.
Your faith in my abilities, the way you show you care,
helps me believe that I can do anything and I can do it all;
no matter how big my dreams are or how small.
Thank you for your unconditional love.
You are truly a blessing from heaven above.
Love you today and always.
For you I give God all the praise!
Pronounced side effect upon my dreams...
courtesy Fluoxetine hydrochloride
Fluoxetine Hcl (C17H18F3NO·HCl)
known as Selective Serotonin
Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI),
especially prescribed to treat
depression, panic disorder,
and obsessive-compulsive disorder
the above symptoms
profoundly experienced by yours truly
said prescription medication
seriously impacts sleep (mine).
Debilitating panic attacks
wrought (particularly years gone by)
physiological displeasures chiefly constituting
vertigo, racing heart, nausea,
excessive perspiration, adrenaline
coursing thru body,
whereby Prozac (brand name regarding
aforementioned synthesized chemical)
ameliorated unbearable, unmanageable, untenable...
earth-shaking, devastating,
and crushing manifestations
disabling, exhausting, jackknifing... functionality
hijacking life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
Essentially yours truly experiences
dilemma analogous to sleep deprivation,
cuz ofttimes upon arising,
I feel utterly tuckered out, exhausted, bushed...
thus zapped body, mind and spirit
ill suited to physical,
mental or spiritual endeavor
subsequently lovely bones (mine)
(pine to join grateful dead)
rather than feebly kickstart
lame effort to write, read or meditate.
Thus respecting Sir Isaac
Newton's first law of motion
a (human) body at rest
inertia keeps said entity at rest.
Interestingly enough as
daylight doth wax and wane
casting dark shadows upon urbane
countenance buzzfeeding hidden reservoir
exerting estimable energy
decreasing arduous strain
therefore purposefulness,
I seek renewable resource to imbue
garden variety generic
doubting thomas and ordain
him (i.e. me) with spontaneous
magnificent grandiloquent enlightenment
ala Orson Welles Citizen Kane
laughable comparison linkedin
with story extraordinaire quite insane
September 4th, 2020 insight one can gain
perchance even coaxing passable poem
from deep within Matthew Scott Harris' brain.
Long before Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and Greeks,
Before Hammurabi, Sargon and Ramses ruled
The world below their feet;
Before biblical scenes and mythological dreams
Of magical carpet rides,
I knew you back then
Where sea breezes begin
And history was a gleam in your eye...
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain,
They called you Ricotis as I recall
Earth Mother once called you by name.
Nestled on the Mediterranean Sea of monsters,
Pirates and explorers renowned,
You were not much more than desert floor
Until the conqueror came to town.
Alexander, Alexander, God-man, ruler-thought divine,
Sailed by your winds where the world begins
And knowledge was born and thrived.
In the halls of those palaces and places
He built from his own vision quest,
To rule a world of enlightened beings
Where all people could achieve their best.
Though he never quite saw your white marble walls,
With pillars of gold and blue;
Of the Serapeum filled with scholarly souls
Recording their own world view.
He never knew Pythagoras, philosopher, scientist extraordinaire;
Or the historians Philo and Josephus
And the volumes of memories they shared.
The early Christians, Church Fathers and Saints
Origen, Clement and Mark;
Alexander never knew what he finally did
When he gave you that worldly start.
You’ve seen the Pharos come and go,
Dynasties crumble and fall;
Romans and Greeks swept right off their feet
And Cleopatra’s castle walls.
Pagans, Jews and Christians too
All vying for your love;
As whispering winds of Freemason friends
Tell of Hermes below and above.
While Islam and Mohammed rule
In the shadow of the Sphinx,
Pyramids and temples filled with hieroglyphs
And obelisks that make you
Stop and think…
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain;
So little I’ve spoken about you today
Compared to all I’ve gained.
Since the first day I once met you
In that dream so way back when…
Alexandria, Alexandria, so glad we’re still
Good friends.