Long Gist Poems
Long Gist Poems. Below are the most popular long Gist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gist poems by poem length and keyword.
Old magazines, pictures that pose;
Junk cluttering, ready-to-throw;
Stray offerings for scrapbook close;
I'm selecting new collage flow.
Flip each page here, tear picture pacts;
A nice neat stack, stray page with poise;
Beauty that steers, pieces of tact;
Sift pile and slack, find image choice.
With easy pace, seek treasures lost;
Start to address new storyboard;
Assign new space, at zero cost;
Begin to press, cut-and-paste hoard.
Cut, trim and gum, pieces of art;
Ideas run wild in collage grain;
Here and there lump, unusual parts;
Just like a child: magic laid plain!
And pictures grow, images lift;
Collage art sings new melodies;
New chance to glow, warm purpose sifts;
Junk page now spring, clear textures see.
Thus one by one, I shape new stuff;
Discarded print, pictures galore;
Artwork frees fun, prime zest enough;
Colours and tints, avant garde core.
I feel my soul, at ease with this;
Paper cuttings, sharp cutter blade;
Trim to make whole, relax with gist;
Patchwork trimmings, pictures re-made!
This strange crusade to re-use print;
I come to know heals more and more;
Art left unsaid, re-lives new mint;
Collage that shows new life galore!
Art goes to show that discards can
Be of good use if I can see
A brand new flow in whimsy's plan:
Heart sparks a fuse to free beauty.
Leon Enriquez
24 February 2014
Singapore
Shiva and Shakti, both are one
Light of the spiritual sun
Sprouting from Hirayangarbha
When our lower mind comes undone
Pure of heart are free from dukha
Distanced from earthy brouhaha
Spiritual heart, all aglow
Awakens consciousness Buddha
All enabled in stillness slow
When love fragrance, we do follow
Trusting God, ceasing to resist
Nonchalant eye, soft and mellow
Love alone real, is truth gist
An open heart and unclenched fist
Shining in self-luminescence
Known when we become a bliss mist
10-October-2021
Notes: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiranyagarbha
Syllables: howmanysyllables.com (poetrysoup counter inaccurate)
Urge for Loyalty in service
The fealty Of taking badge pride
Vest no cunning brigade aegis
Fits in thE atmosphere of a better slide
Length of great passion
The wOrth of hampered green
Host the Voyagers wit caution
Gist thE sail save wave's careen
The center Lead of vaults
The crease mime lOgo of chime
Standing still against inactiVity waltz's blame
To aiding thE earth's issuing assaults
The pace of Lasting bond
The fear Of children's want
Stage aboVe the stake of tricky end
To wEigh the comely oath savant
There is no curse for the Least
There is nO cuss in adultery
Self loss accustomed drunk's saVory
But a no go loosE for liars amidst
Thou hath boLdness emit on earth
Averse nOthing opaque bearing the cross
To peace seeking doVe's directories' worth
Boosting Eon's hope crosswise
Whichever is it
Nothing worth more
Only love and love hit
Situating outward cares cum bore
When on mother earth you fall
Pass off no hatred
Cry all you can but stand tall
Above darkness influences that can be afforded
as long as we search for a this or that
employing a prayer or mantra or a chant
the doer in us manifests and thus we fall flat
we believe that unless we strive for what we want
we will be denied elixir of divine sublime bliss
we need to stand erect but posture slants
ascension is as joyful as a loves kiss
truth ego mind would have us disbelieve
we need to do nothing, yet struggle to finish
how simple can it get, yet the truth we try to weave
God omnipresent, He must be here, now, within
save love yearning no truths there to sieve
immediate and intimate, closer than our skin
God Himself breathes us enlivening feeble form
head and heart melded with love, we are free of sin
surrender is the only way, inviting the benign bliss storm
extinguishing ego spawned delusion of separation
felt within clearly as magnetic heat warm
thus divine energy sensed as bliss ignition
vaporises our lower mind once we cease to resist
gripping thus our attention in continuum of meditation
this, dear hermit, is the all of it and the gist
we be to become a divine entwined bliss mist
18-May-2021
A Lady Called LEENAH
Life is like a narration, try narrating your words at times to give your audience full gist and update-AFOLALEKAN
Alas! I have been to the north
looking for a lady with Kayamanta
Just for her to be the mata
I went to the south
then to the east
without leaving aside the west,
yet still I couldn't find the one
A second I glanced through a lady,
sleeping in a bus
with her smile coupled with her radiated twilight face.
A Casanova I said I was
Despite with a lady
whom I thought I have seen it all with
Then I realized her name-Leenah
A lady who's smile is angellically beautful
Her lips were fanimorous for licking
and her-laps I know not much
but the little I know
she's endowed with two oranges
quite okay for breakfast
a rejuvenated **** yummy for dinner.
Yena! only God knows where she is from
I couldn't take my eyes off her
but could see her being mine.
You all wonder why I say so.
she's an attention seeker
then I shall become the seeker
giving her what she seeks
so I can have her to myself.
If not as a life partner, perhaps as Viber.
immediately, I make Intel's of her
then I realized she is not just an ordinary girl.
but extraordinary to the core
she's a lioness
among hyena
a drama queen
within expert
and a lover at fault
A lady-Leenah is her name.
©?Fawass Olalekan Adelabu
(Dedication: For Ann with Love.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ann of my days,
Days that fan cheer,
Cheer weaves each play,
Play that lives here.
Style wears a smile,
Smile that funds cheer,
Cheer lives each mile,
Mile where love piles.
Grace wears a face,
Face of fond light,
Light shines a trace,
Trace of fine sight.
Love shows just how,
How lovely sees,
Sees truth right now,
Now that must be.
Here in these grounds,
Grounds of time past,
Past that goes round,
Round and round fast.
There in those trace,
Trace now and here,
Here in this space,
Space beyond fear.
Swift and sure days,
Days and nights spread,
Spread with light rays,
Rays that purge dread.
Quest in full bloom,
Bloom in sweet chimes,
Chimes that fill room,
Room in sure mime.
Words loiter here,
Here with good grace,
Grace leaps to cheer,
Cheer fronts this space.
Waltz to the tune,
Tune in to bliss,
Bliss in sand dunes,
Dunes in a gist.
Rhymes in good time,
Time that distills,
Distills fond chimes,
Chimes that reveal.
Line after line,
The music floats,
Floats to define,
Define this boat.
Start ushers end,
End frames the start,
Start to prime trend,
Trend with sure heart.
Leon of my nights,
Nights that flood poise;
Poise in the light,
Light that springs voice.
Leon Enriquez
10 October 2014
Singapore
Notes nurture name
Seek sublime same
Be beyond blame
Calm choice charms cheer
Nature niche near
Fright freeze-frames fear
Meet mindful maze
Dream deeper daze
Crash cuddles craze
Weary words while
Sweet silence styles
Such succinct smiles
Move mental mist
Glimpse gracious gist
Live laughter lists
Feel flaming fire
Sad story sires
Poignant prompt pyre
Joy jump starts jest
Feisty frame fest
Zone zooming zest
Live lovely lot
Pick pretty plots
Thrill tensile thought
Brace blooming beach
Rhyme rooming reach
Taut troubles teach
Leon Enriquez
31 August 2016
Singapore
The mind eternal lies before us always.
Less pure in tone, we come to it drenched with life;
Fearless companion in our hour of days.
A purity not withstanding breadth of knife.
Away! Away! succubus death,
much less a breach than I.
How many not mislaid in breath,
In priceless toll, said duty to be paid.
No field of honored memories
they preach without belie.
Captured each, and each with closed fist shouting;
Me or not, Cold or hot, we stand between as choice;
all for desperate screams grown silent.
Pastoral in the presence, of one solitary voice,
Whose form of words so hesitantly mouthing.
Whence came we witness to the stream.
Whose eyes are these that hold our field a-view?
Memories whose touch a solid scream;
Form ignored and glory gored of few.
We are not the man.
No animal or simple word defined.
We pause, we pleasure, we perform,
With speck, and all our mind deform;
Our fingers will one day unfold.
Our torrid tortured tale be told.
Yours, mine, ours,
Drumroll spam-like dance,
Become the gist of one more fist
To smash against the sand.
Enea's Pope! (2)
I suppose it’s common knowledge
(and not tedious, I hope!)
that two-thirds of the Sacred College
must concur to elect a pope.
With eighteen cardinals gathered,
twelve was the number to get.
They were nervous, preoccupied, lathered,
for there was no favourite yet.
Day One turned out quite indecisive,
Calindrini accomplishing five:
Enea’s vote, far from derisive –
his five kept his prospects alive.
D’Estouteville’s position was healthy,
and he lobbied for all he was worth.
It helped to be fabulously wealthy,
and promise the voters the earth.
“I don’t want to sound like a critic,”
(thus whispered d’Estouteville in private)
“but look at him – pauper, arthritic.
There’s something you need? I’ll contrive it.”
The gist of the cardinal’s sermon
was that Enea worshipped Apollo,
and was anyway almost a German,
dire consequences were certain follow.
A cardinals’ caucus at midnight
convoked by the frenchified faction
made it seem that the tertium quid might
take a piece of the Rouenais action.
D’Estouteville himself was a teller
when they voted the very next day:
they’d do better to pick Helen Keller –
one of Enea’s votes “went astray”.
Now Enea’s on nine votes, and leading:
a silence descends on the throng.
D’Estouteville is far from conceding:
this process could well be prolonged.
In silence they sit in the Sistine,
feckless, faineant, forlorn
(the chapel itself is still pristine:
Michelangelo hasn’t been born.)
A shout comes from Borgia (Rodrigo,
that’s Cesare’s father-to-be),
“I’m switching to you, mi amigo!”
That’s one of the necessary three!
And then speaks Tebaldi of Naples:
“I’ll go with Siena as well!”
It’s looking decidedly papal,
as friends of d’Estouteville can tell!
One vote is now all that is needed,
one vote and he’s pontifex max:
one vote and he’s finally succeeded:
one vote is the one thing he lacks!
Colonna gets up from his cushion:
d’Estouteville and chums know the score:
unseemly, the shovin’ and pushin’:
they bundle him out of the door.
The spectacle can’t be called splendid.
“Enea, I’m making you pope!”
The greasy pole’s now been ascended:
It’s time for the slippery slope!
My life, what a waste,
It didn’t start until it was too late,
Not much of a childhood, not much of a fate.
Never notice, never seen,
All them years, stuck on automatic, a machine.
The anger, the anguish of things I should have done
The fun, the laughs, what? There wasn’t none.
Strict parents who ruled with an iron fist
The berating the beatings, you get the gist
Being brought up like this I became a recluse
Not point arguing or talking back, there wasn’t any use
So I became a prisoner of my own quietness and shyness
I watched from within, with silent sadness ….
Staying at home from morning to night, just me alone
Never having friends over, just me on my own
Never going out, just me and my books,
Became frightened of people and their judgmental looks
My confidence was beaten and battered
What little courage there might have been, was shattered
Wasted time, and wasted years
Locked away in my room, trapped with my fears
Then I went to college and things all changed
The chains suddenly slackened, it felt a bit strange
To suddenly be free and to do as I desired
Suddenly I had so many mates, I felt inspired
Though I put my head down and studied hard in class
Afterwards I chilled, cruised, and had bare laughs
I lived everyday to the full, as if it was my last
Clubbing and partying and having a blast
Chatting up girls, and sessioning till late
Not knowing what day it was, never mind the date
I lost my way a bit, the straight path I finally managed to find
Now that I’m older I remember those days fondly in my mind
I haven’t lived many years, but definitely lived those two
All those lost years crammed into so few…