Long Fray Poems
Long Fray Poems. Below are the most popular long Fray by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fray poems by poem length and keyword.
My son had come back home to stay for just a little while.
He brought with him his terrier friend; a lively, puppy child.
The skinny, little half grown dog came bounding through my door.
I couldn’t realize at the time, all he’d become . . and more.
For sure he tipped the apple cart when first he entered in.
His lively spirit made me think, I’d not know peace again.
The walks with my old terrier dog were all that I could want.
Soon slow and steady, calm, serene, became a grueling jaunt.
Old dog sniffed each bush and tree, as young dog plunged ahead.
While I was pulled this way and that and mostly seeing red.
And God forbid another dog come ambling on our way;
My stress filled walk would soon become, an all out frenzied fray.
He plagued the cats, barked at the door: he loved to sit and howl.
While I just tore my hair out: yet I found that all this while;
He simply grew to grow on me despite his naughty ways.
And as the time began to pass we had some better days.
While in his quiet moments; he just loved my generous lap.
Liked to have his belly rubbed: lay with me for a nap.
He liked to give wet kisses, till I had to tell him, “No."
Loved the car: turned inside out, whenever I said “Go”.
My son moved on, as sons will do, endeavoring to be free.
And by this time we both agreed; young dog should stay with me.
And when old dog forsook my side, because God said he must;
I found the young dog next to me gave all his love and trust.
He stayed beside me night and day and never asked to leave.
He seemed to sense I needed him, along with time to grieve.
I then began to understand what a nice dog lived with me,
For in the old dog’s shadow; he’d become all he could be!
But fate became unkind to us and time was not his friend.
The young dog only stayed awhile, then moved on once again.
And this time I was all alone, with no friend by my side.
My days were filled with missing him, while nights I'd lay and cry.
I know they are together now, in a place God made for them:
These happy creatures sent to earth to be my loyal friends.
I know their spirits run and play; nevermore will they know pain.
Because of this, despite my grief; I’d not wish them back again.
But I’ll remember each of them, through all my days that pass.
It's really hard for me to say, whose loved first and whose loved last?
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Homeward Path 11/08 Roger M. Landry
Wise men say, stay out of the fray,
And perhaps that is logical, and even soundly psychological.
They advise, do not go my son into the dark wood; you will only come to no good.
And I ask, if the road is less traveled, it will leave me baffled?
The trail in the forest tall could it leave me feeling forever small?
Alone, will I not even hear the sound of the stately tree’s fall?
In my craven travels, shall I perhaps see the pellucid pillars of heaven seven,
Or experience the depraved depths of perdition?
But, what if there is no one there to tell?
No singing angels, or laughing demons from hell.
Shall I be weary of my iconoclastic dreams?
Because, in my youth, I had magic visions of being the princely toad,
Of crossing elegantly the paved road to fame.
However, carrion birds now read, feed on my bloody entrails strewn along the lane.
Now, I only wake up in the fevered night, no princess to soothe my stifled screams.
Beaten and torn, shall I become the salacious stripper of old?
That, with nagging words, expresses my vulnerable, and sagging soul.
Like a lost muse, shall the tiger burning bright, in the forest of the night,
Become my one and only frightful and guiding light?
I can see quite far from the gritty solitude of a lofty mountain.
But, would rather sit with my smiling children by a bubbling fountain,
Have someone park my expensive car,
Or sip beer, with friends, in a quaint neighborhood bar.
Going on a shopping spree and wearing designer clothes,
I think, is superior than to society loathe.
To have opulent gold is better than writing poetry in poverty, wouldn’t you agree?
Or, would it be better if I contemplate my fate, eternally alone, under a frigid night star,
While I pluck loose strings on an out of tune guitar?
They say that if you favor the glacier-blue, the flavor will get inside of you.
Now that I have made enough bad choices, because of those niggling internal voices,
I am eternally lost, my mind unloosing in a wilderness of my own choosing.
Like a pharaoh, I know there is a divine treasure in my head,
But, I work and work, feel dead, and just can’t get out of bed.
The road has its own agenda, to which I know my heart must surrender,
Therefore, I shall curb my shameful wrath,
And trust that my soul knows its homeward path.
Form:
6.
Arlaghs, once more ready to advance,
this could be their final chance,
to turn, for them, the battle fought,
to destroy the mortal, they had sought.
yet now, know this would not be.
mortals would this day be free,
from the darkness across the plain,
blood was shed away, by tears of pain.
The Dark Man helped upon his feet,
this battle scene is now complete,
Turvehr, he is now by his side,
now, there is no place to hide,
Dark Man helped on back of friend,
now he'll fight until the end,
Arlagh's see the Dark Man near,
once again, their Dark hearts no fear,
One final push, once more into the fray,
tears are falling, human's calling,
as the fight runs too its end,
at Alahsar, that fateful day.
The Tigress, tears fall from her eyes,
she softly says her last goodbyes,
for she knows, at the end of this day,
the Dark Man shall have passed away.
Every eye shall have a tear,
the Arlagh's shaking now with fear,
"Walk In The Light,"
final cry, the Dark Man's call,
repeated now by one and all.
Forward for the final time,
Blood does flow, life's sweetest wine,
Utamol, now in final storm,
slashing, hacking, stabbing home.
Arlagh, now hanging his head,
His fate is written, on blade so red,
still, creatures of night battle on,
as they hear Death's mighty horn.
Life is gone, within battle's storm,
yet still, the Arlaghs battle on,
it is the only way they know,
death facing the foe, the way they must go.
The Tigress, fighting on with such skill,
her sword is thirsty for the kill,
her dance is the dance of Death,
those facing her, take their last breath.
Anger burns deep in her soul,
destroying the dark, her only goal,
She does all a warrior can,
she stays near to her Dark man.
The mists of time can't take away,
the horror felt upon this day,
at this time there is no glorious sight,
Arlagh's dispatched to their land of night.
battle over now, all mortals cheer,
except for the one crying sorrow's tear,
no more shall they be together,
Dark Man's dead body sits on Turvehr.
Cheers of victory are slowly muted,
agony of the heart, is better suited,
mortals fall upon their knees,
the Joy within their hearts, does freeze.
Many times the saviour of this dreamland,
he has made his final stand,
the tears of all begin to fall,
the Carynx has blown, one last, mighty call.
To Be Continued..........
It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,
Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.
I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin's wisdom street.
I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.
This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.
Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.
I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we've come to sacred share.
And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,
And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.
Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.
And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn's greeting way.
As the sun ascends in the azure expanse,
I reflect on the journey that brought me here,
A journey fraught with trials and tribulations,
Yet crowned with triumph and redemption.
I recall the moments of doubt and despair,
When the weight of the world threatened to crush me,
But from the depths of despair, I arose,
Like a phoenix reborn from the ashes of adversity.
Each scar upon my flesh tells a story,
A story of battles fought and victories won,
For every wound inflicted, I emerged stronger,
A testament to the indomitable human spirit.
With each passing day, I embrace the dawn,
Embracing the promise of a new beginning,
For in the embrace of the morning light,
I find solace, strength, and renewal.
I cast aside the shackles of doubt and fear,
And step boldly into the unknown,
For I know that within me lies the power,
To conquer mountains and defy the odds.
So let the world tremble and the heavens quake,
I stand unshaken, a beacon of hope,
For within me dwells the unwavering resolve,
To overcome, to endure, to triumph.
With every heartbeat, I proclaim my strength,
A strength forged in the crucible of adversity,
For I am not defined by my scars,
But by the courage with which I face each challenge.
In the tapestry of life, I am a thread,
Woven into the fabric of existence,
And though I may fray and unravel at times,
I will never break, for my spirit is unbreakable.
So let the winds of change blow and the tides shift,
I stand firm, anchored to my convictions,
For I am a warrior, a survivor, a victor,
And I will never surrender, for I am triumphant.
Even as the shadows lengthen and the day fades,
I stand tall, bathed in the twilight's glow,
For in every ending, there lies a new beginning,
And in every challenge, an opportunity to grow.
As the stars twinkle in the velvet sky above,
I whisper a silent prayer of gratitude,
For the trials that shaped me, the lessons learned,
And the resilience that carried me through.
So let the world marvel at my resilience,
For I am a testament to the human spirit,
And though the road may be long and arduous,
I will continue to journey forward, undaunted.
For in every setback, there lies a comeback,
And in every obstacle, a chance to rise,
And with each step I take, I move closer,
To the realization of my dreams, my triumph.
5.
Utamol takes his bloody fill,
tasting life's wine, never still,
Dark Man in majestic motion,
hate-filled passion, his chief emotion.
War played in an ancient way,
a horror too all, who fight this day,
yet all who escape this misery,
shall ever call this carnage glory.
The battle, not lost, yet not won,
Dark Man and Tigress fighting on,
all mortals hard into the fray,
Turvehr fights on in majesty.
life so simple, shall it be gone?
will all this death, be worth a song?
the day that mortals did not surrender,
before the gates of Alahsar.
Now a change has come about,
the enemy halted, there comes a shout,
"Look out! our golden arrows come,"
the Goddess Athena.s fire begun.
A rain of golden death on the bloody plain,
ne'er see its like ever again,
two mighty hero's, Dark and Gold,
fashioned from eternal warrior mold.
Athena races, golden chariot alive with light,
a wonder of great glory too mortal sight,
Athena and her minions, they come on the run,
with blood-letting in mind, they gladly come.
Charging in upon the left, Arlaghs fall before the wheel.
Sword of truth, Oh, splendid, shining steel,
in the hands of the sun's divinity,
the Goddess Athena gains her glory this day.
Beasts a-plenty, break and run,
Utamol, now having fun,
gains great glory, Heaven knows,
blade of vengeance, blood-like rose.
Dark Man holding light the blade,
dead and dying before them laid,
never finding peace, living or dead,
love's wondrous plain, now bloody red.
Still. Arlagh does not run,
fighting on, till life is done,
Athena shining, in her own, inner light,
warrior of Gods, up for the fight.
push, push, ever onward,
always carry battle forward,
battle sounding forever loud,
dead and dying together, battle's sorrowful crowd.
On the flanks, still archer's fire,
striking home with hate's desire,
Fight goes on and all fight brave,
blood the mortar, bodies the pave.
On and on, the hate goes on,
surely there shall be a song,
of all that happened this mighty day,
Before The Gates Of Alahsar, so far away.
Then an arrow comes in fast,
the Dark Man, he is struck at last,
arrow sinks deep in his chest,
shall this be his final test?
Arlaghs, no more in retreat,
stopping now on balls of feet,
Dark Man now upon his knee,
the Tigress', sad eyes they see.
To Be Continued............
Civility and Man: A Historical View
Since man began to populate the earth,
And feel the pull of Satan’s evil ways.
The angels came to teach the fallen souls:
Proposing righteous ways to live earth days.
Decorum had been taught both then and now.
Man, Adam and his wife with death had played.
The badly chosen fruit waylaid their plight.
Enlightened, but from loving God they strayed.
Significance and consequence brought death.
The mortal two began to populate.
So rules of etiquette began to grow.
And man’s new fate embraced their mortal state.
Before too long, grave envy showed its face.
And Cain did not obey the rules, as taught.
He chose a rock and struck his brother dead.
Civility was not wrought in that rock.
When Moses led his people through the sands.
And Father carved some rules upon a stone.
Uncivilized, they bickered, played, and sinned.
Respect for God and His great words had flown.
When Socrates and Plato came around,
Civility…philosophy was deep.
The Ten Commandments were the reigning rules.
And politics gave zealousness a hold.
George Washington and others wrote some rules.
These rules were social rules, not civil laws.
Civility back then meant manner’s guide.
Respecting one another, yielding self.
The hundred plus ten rules, then set in place.
Fell prey to proper conduct’s judging ways.
And judgment for their lacking could be cruel.
If down the nose one’s self-worth found a sneer.
Dear Harry Truman taught a civil dream.
Of unity within the scope of men,
Together working for the greater good.
All brothers hand in hand respecting each.
The world today is filled with hatred’s fray.
Mankind now turns away from loving ways.
The common man believes all shall be well.
Surprise! Civility is on the road to hell.
Good actions are respecters of all men.
With energy beget not violent ways.
Or great travail shall overcome mankind.
Civility to me, most surely means:
Loving one another, there and at home.
Willfully revising loveless thinking.
Rebuking darkness with the light of love.
Unity and freedom…let us ring.
United wisdom drinking of love’s well,
No longer greeting slaughter of lost hope.
But civilly, rethinking plights of man.
© Name withheld for the contest
March 21, 2010
Poetic form: Free Verse
PLEASE PRAY FOR THE WORLD AND FORWARD THIS AS INSPIRED.
Visions of you
I see a knight in armour – one of King Arthur’s – ready to do battle
at the drop of a word – for Queen, country, god and ego.
I see Babe Ruth, knocking balls out of the game,
in order to be the winning team – for god country and soul.
I see Amelia Earhart, taking on the air, the skies, the world
– for ego, spirit, soul, heart and the abused child / woman in her.
I see Muhammad Ali, putting on the gloves in order to knock out
all wood be challengers to her position, control, power, rightness.
I see a chess pro, taking out the pawns, the knights, the bishops,
rooks, the queen – check mating the king – putting him in his place,
- under her thumb, under her queen - winning the game.
I see a friend chocking up in the crunch – makes the wrong choices –
ends up missing, sinking the eight ball that she is now behind.
Never winning the game she so desperately wants to play well.
I see a friend who needs so much more than she is,
who needs so much more than she ever gets,
who needs to be a lover and loved,
who needs to be loved as a lover.
B. J. “A” 2
July 29th, 2003
Visions of you
Part Two
De ja vu - I see a sergeant, major, barking out orders, to all,
as if this world were her own private army.
I see a little Hitler, – mustache and all – trying to rule
her tiny, little universe – make it fit her ideal dream.
I see a Johnnie Cochran, and his dream team ( your demons ),
O J Simpson, the defendant, convincing herself and the world
she is truth, she is right, she is might, and as Jonnie Cochran,
the lawyer, the mouth piece shooting down - all reason, all logic,
all attempts – by denying, by lying, by deception, by trying
to baffle brains with bull ****, by throwing every irrelevant
- verbal diarrhoeaed – thought and word into the fray,
in order to distract, avoid the issues, the truths, to be right.
I see a Jim Jones, a Joseph Smith, preaching her gospel,
a gospel according to her - designed to have the sheep,
the blind, the week, the lost souls of this planet
to follow her path without question, and in the end,
sacrifice “ ALL ” for the sake of her fragile soul,
her floundering, lost spirit, her ill ego.
I see a friend, with a heart of gold, if truth be told.
More of a friend to those who have done her wrong.
then to those who truly care, about her welfare.
B. J. “A ” 2
July 29th, 2003
A decade of growth and decadent boom
People didn't mention the debt elephant in the room
It was the charge of the bull
Many pockets were full
The search for a higher return was the motivational pull.
But whilst stocks and shares rocked and flared
Investors held their breath in shock and fear
They seemed to forget that markets go up and markets go down
Because as long as uncertainty shows up, the cycle goes round
But to be fair the times were good, and returns seemed sure
The earnings of many corporations, continued to soar
The zeitgeist was the age of prosperity, profit and greed
It wasn't the time to question sustainability or question the need
Many financial advisers advised that it was the right way to go
"You should take advantage now, while all these rates of interest are low"
So many consumers took out mortgages, that they just couldn't afford
Including the 'sub prime', with bad credit, and of course the poor
But let's not forget, that the consumer went along, and played ball
Creatures of habit responding to the mating call, that beckoned us all
Deposits levels came down, loan-to-value went up
House prices bubbled and brimmed and we all drank from the cup.
Now the banks merged all of these mortgages together in lumps
Sold them as safe bets to investors, who were taken for chumps
Then the US housing market crashed
Now comes the the consequences
Unsurprisingly mortgage repayments started to slump
So called safe investments soon became worthless as junk
Families who had homes repossessed now facing the funk
Securitisation of mortgages now seemed so dumb
Regulators appeared powerless, dozing and numb
Lehman Brothers collapsed. America sneezed
The world became infected. Financial markets siezed
Governments and Central Banks now stepped into the fray
To prop up a system, that should have been reconfigured that day
Many banks were bailed; too big to fail.
The bankers who were at the wheel, too big to jail.
The humble tax payer was forced to post the cash
And many years later many banks still owe this cash
So the world was saved but here's the 'but'
The pubic purse was utilised, to escape the rut
Now all society must pay the price; take a hit to the gut
And suffer the pain, of historic public services cuts.
Mike Concise © 2015
www.mikeconcise.com
"Petrichor "
Two minds
have made an entrance
magnetic bodies electric
minions babble
it’s just wasted white noise
sandpaper against back stories hit
The Wall of Wasted Time
He’s read most between the lines
He’s all hard hot and cool
unruffled piercing eagle eyes
forever on the hunt for willing prey
She’s incognito in disguise
seeking a challenge amongst
the spoilt and unsoiled
green-eyed fray
the two watch
in studied silence
like heat seeking missiles
they will find each other
poles apart
opposites
light and dark
fascinated
they are each other’s mark
the ozone is now charged
the crowd dissolves
invisible all their faces
unread their lips
unheard their madding mob words
whispered all graceless
passionless empty pages
time departs
the fuse is lit
Two minds’ eyes connect
both burning id reflect
the moment before they met
neurons travelling at lightning speed
through pulse to fingertips
reach out towards
each other’s mortal form
to touch the cerebral net
then later
find fingers reading skin
like braille and thirst
to drink from reigning lips
the moment before the
welcome storm hits hips
to taste the salt in
the cumulonimbus bursting
blue feral hollows
of their naked terraform
the Two minds
like absent gods
high and lost
in each other’s ocean
bent and tossed
live their story
tattooed at the place
where bodies leave clean sheets
and souls connect
electric bodies ignite
La Petite Mort
wave after wave
their drowning moans
ecstatically deplore
their final becalmed
silence approaching
the sweet mercy of
Petrichor
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
https://youtu.be/5hFCZ1tzWR0
"Body Electric"/Del Ray
"I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul"
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
(American Poet, May 31,1819 – March 26, 1892)
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman