Long Foppish Poems
Long Foppish Poems. Below are the most popular long Foppish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foppish poems by poem length and keyword.
Nectared graces overwhelming must
Underline your pulse-halting charms;
Utopian opal spelt by honeyed terms,
Resistless pearl cased in mortal dust.
Fair-miened nymphs kings did melt;
But such sly vixens, like old Phoenix
Acing artful Death's ambrosial tricks,
Would find your rig a conundrum yet.
Dead fancy's fairy in gowns of wool,
Would vote this trim flawless figure
Finer than fiction's gildings meager;
Nature’s art unsullied by apish tool.
Nor would pageant-lauded beauties,
Though posh their foppish styles be;
With roses laureled in limitless glee,
Dim this time's own queen of cuties.
Where lurks this sure paragon high,
Beauty-capped acme of poets' tales;
Yet glamorous and unbeaten in vales
Of breath and death where jewels lie?
Every time I read Pessoa I think
I'm better than he is
Salutations to Fernando Pessoa-Alan Ginsberg
Me, the monocled one, with my foppish belted waistcoat,
I'm not unworthy of you, Walt,
I'm not unworthy of you, my saluting you proves it . . .
Salute to Walt Whitman- Fernando Pessoa
Here from a place in my heart, I salute you,
Female as I am, and unknown,
Should I be praising Emily, Plath or Achmatova?
But you started it Pessoa! with your Alvaro comparing himself
to Whitman, not content to admit to a greatness of your own
and now I find dear Mr. Ginsberg confessing to his greatness in
epic manner, name dropping from Socrates to Michelangelo
admitting faults in the same breath-tracking his enlightenment
and if it was written tongue in cheek, I missed it.
How I admire the great poets that wade into the mainstream
appearing where the greatest wrongs appear, risking even
death for their beliefs, celebrated by those who embrace their
point of view, but what of the unknown poets in the world;
so many whose work is equally astounding, yet unexposed.
Musings on every subject known to man, set down in metaphor
and rhyme makes me wonder what brings immortal recognition
Is it from making a devoted study or from mixing in the right circles?
The hallowed halls of academia or is it some -one's tiny jounal
of handwritten poems waiting for discovery, the enlightenment
of the next century?
Poets, don't often, answer to their fame - writing what's inside of them
for those to come.
Thursday, 06 September, 2001
I wrote this poem one morning (Thursday, 06 September, 2001)after I had read a poem by Alan Ginsberg in the 1995 edition of The Best American Poetry.
I had never seen the poem he referred to "Salute to Whitman"by Fernando Pessoa
and today when I found it on the web Friday, March 01, 2002, I was suprised to see how similar our opening lines were.
Here are current links to the poems mentioned
https://issuu.com/hbarbas/docs/1997_salutations_to_pessoa_ginsberg_h_barbas
https://modpo2015.wordpress.com/poems-of-note/fernando-pessoa-alvaro-de-campos-salute-to-walt-whitman/
Foppish fringe flutters..pianist tendrils tinkling..
Flitter finessing leathery fruits..
Caressing..stitched dreams tickled & tailored..
Swing..swerve in clandestine cahoots…
Curve…voluptuous velvety verve..
Wobble seam serendipity tempts..teases..
Sliding across creases..angle architect gliding..
Heaven sent tyro riding blazing trails..
Hellbent brio…Waggers & Trent..Timmy trio..
Touted trinity…selector trifecta..febrile fan affinity..
Tim’s timber hoicks topple Toblerones..
Schadenfreude stats sips.. Oiks suggest Timmy..
Ersatz Test imitator of Jimmy…
Naysayers…tut tutters spew from trolling gutters…
As Yoda may say…"Devil may care..unfair..flair in the air..this bowling pair share..'
Muffled murmurs of the goat..Hadlee float…gracing grassy notes..
Timmy..go on gimme one final shimmy…
Dare to dream…it will end.. as it did begin..
With that boyish grin..just beam..old friend
I forgot I belonged to God.
He is my only Master, not worldly
foppish clowns.
My allegiance, to no human is owed.
Just to Him, who gave me life and an
eternal soul.
Can people harm me, oh yes, indeed.
But I can overcome anything with heed.
Do not kiss feet of humanity, they are
not gods.
Yet you continue to adore, cynical, vicious clods.
The human body by him was made.
Not by humans, lying in the shade.
He chose you to beautify this earth.
With His words,not being avoided in
your verse.
The human body deserves respect!
On Hollywood's list or Netflix, of this,
They reject?
Times can be sane again!
If you do not support them..I ask each
of you, when?
Vindictiveness, in blogs here do fly.
Arrogance, darkening poetic skies.
We can be better than this.
Uplifting others, instead of killing them
with words by our poetic wrists.
1/14/2021
~6-
Fruitful faeries flying freshly frightenly faraway
Flashing flea-bitten furry fireflies fantasy fey,
Faux flash-dancing flowery figs flowing flippantly free,
Ferocious fierce foursome fruit-flies flying fantasy’s flea.
Fast-fingered flicker formidably frugally fit flexible.
Frosting frilly flounder’s fluorescent fetish fully fixable.
Fanciful freckled fathomably frosted filly fibs flitting,
Fashionable forcefully fanatical farmhand fuzzily fretting.
Fun-loving, flippant foolhardy fivefold finger’s foghorn.
Fooled fellow’s fervent fleecy foppish fire fuzzily forlorn.
Fantastical fanged frolicking fishy fuzzy fickle frills.
Fixes froggy’s fanciful fanned fox figs from freezing Frankfort.
Surrounded now by wreathes and satin sheets
awash in tears like crystal coursing down
your ivory visage stirs thoughts of Keats,
the onyx black of ringlets 'bout your brow
amen, but that was then, and this is now.
Tonight in forget-me-nots, you'll be crowned
with all the foppish roses thrown to ground.
Forget me now, adorned in widow's weeds
an angry form forlorn for you have gone;
recall me when your touch filled me with need
amongst blue flowers in a summer's field
as first love bloomed and passion was its yield.
Small tokens, these, the blue forget-me-not
to anchor you to me upon that spot.
And, when I close my eyes in daily prayer
an image comes of life and loving days;
smiling, but blue, I'll dream and you'll be there;
touching my cheeks, kissing my eyes ablaze,
and death's cold hand will vanish in the haze.
In ecstasy not angst will we sojourn
as from the gates of heaven you look on.
"Hyar she comes! The weekly stagecoach is a-comin' to old Santa Fe!"
The driver cracked his whip and blowed his klaxon to herald the way!
The weekly arrival of the stagecoach was cause fer raucous celebration!
The town's ne'er-do-wells found another excuse fer excess inebriation!
The excited citizens one and all awaited its arrival with bated breath,
To see and greet the motley rogues brought to town by the driver, Seth!
Seth descended from his perch midst snarlin' curs and guttersnipes,
Gun-totin' hangers-on, genteel ladies, the sheriff and other sundry types.
Grizzled Seth cut loose a stream of cussin' and in a furious rage,
Yelled, "You'uns clear the way and let them people git off'n the stage!"
His bedraggled passengers set foot on the dusty streets of old Santa Fe,
Happy to be relieved of the stagecoach's nauseous lurch and sway!
The Baptist Ladies Guild gasped when down stepped a lady of the night,
But she was greeted by the fellers of Buster's Saloon with a cry of delight!
Next was a feller all dressed in black scannin' the crowd with a gloomy glower.
He was a preacher-man causin' fellers from Buster's Saloon to cringe and cower!
A steely-eyed dude with 44s on his hips viewed the mob with condescension,
But his shifty manner put the sheriff on alert and merited his attention!
Down stepped a foppish dandy wearin' diamonds and dressed in fine attire.
He was a gamblin' man aimin' to see how much town capital he might acquire!
Seth hollered, "All aboard! I gotta git to Albuquerq' by six tonight!"
He whipped his steeds to a gallop and soon old Santa Fe was outta sight!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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