Long Glutinous Poems
Long Glutinous Poems. Below are the most popular long Glutinous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glutinous poems by poem length and keyword.
Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing
Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze;
Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky
Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog;
A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down
From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto
Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable
Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys
Provoked into howling each side of the river.
There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes,
Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters
Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes
Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows;
Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness.
At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast
Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters;
The fish that swim here are said to be the finest
In the province.
We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream,
Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice
With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile
River valley...
Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce?
If you are dissatisfied as a peasant
You can take the ancient "old tea horse road"
And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high
On a rail;
The road will take you all the way from Zigui
To Tibet...or even further perhaps,
And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your
Every footstep.
But I will remain where I am, in the
Village On The Water
Nestled deep within the Three Gorges;
My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond,
Held in balance as if it were Shaseng
The Shadow Play Stone;
And each new morning awakening to slow,
Chiming bells.
This was once a sea of mud
Where thousands bled!
Before it reverted to!
A field of Flanders Poppy Red.
Do lines of ghostly squaddies!
Plough through ethereal mire!
In an endless quest to!
Charge the enemy barbed wire.
Do Mill Bombs explode!
As machine guns bark!
Sending many of the brave!
Into death's final dark.
How many bodies sank
Into that glutinous paste
Just futile victims of
A futile war's waste.
Do those shades fight bravely
Or do they fight with despair
Knowing it was sheer folly
That they were ever there.
The Flanders Poppy thrives
It's vivid scarlet red
An enduring tribute to those
Many brave but wasted dead.
And the massed white tombstones
In their precise lines and ranks
Are tended with love and care
In sincere but inadequate thanks
17 October 1916 the Battle of The Somme enterd its 109th day and had 32 more to run. It lasted 141 day in total. It saw the first use of the tank in battle, and extensive use of air power.
Casualties: British and Empire: 420,000, French: 200,000, German: between 434,000 and 500,000.
It was classed as “inconclusive.”
100 Years On I feel like crying/
Red ripe is my fruit
Plump and bursting with resentment
Oozing remorse and regret
My pain Ready for you to harvest
I have waited patiently
For your uncontrollable urge
To feast upon my agony
And devour my shame
Your greedy appetite
For my suffering is insatiable
Feed your glutinous desires
As you sink your teeth deep
Into my cold flesh
Taste my bittersweet discontent
As you ingest my poisoned hatred
And choke upon the shards
Of my broken heart and shattered dreams
Now that you have consumed
The essence of my pain
I’m nothing but a hollow core
Return my ravaged remains
Back into the soil of Eden's garden
So that I may be absorbed
Back into the earth
And the seed of mans sins
Can now take root
Form:
All dressed in green, the rose bush beams
like a child's blushing cheeks and pursed lips;
these debutants jilted by bees
forever wanting to be kissed.
A carpet of phlox giggles like a young lady
and drips over the wall like a Dali clock,
tickled by fingers of lilies and daisies
still waiting to dance, demurely frocked.
Impatiens wink at the pansy's goodbyes,
while hostas and petunias wave.
In the light of the late springtime sky
all in the garden would rave.
No need for people, they've nothing to prove
because flowers can party too!
~Through a wisteria laden arbor~
Ah, the robins are here rummaging in the grass
and they just left the blueberries over the hedge,
a glutinous embarrassment for sure, but as
deer prance so properly, I'd rather robins instead;
at least they don't consume the guests,
or should I say, permanent party participants.
Like a "who done it" dinner it's a safe bet
they'll win, if the catnip and snapdragons can't.
What's the purpose of being pretty;
ogled and cut by people and eaten by deer -
it's the talk of the party and nasty.
Gossip is (don't tell) that our favorite guests aren't here,
the honey and the bumbles do tickle and tease
and though perhaps used, we're left pleased.
Modern/Contemporary Sonnet (mixed meter-slant rhyme-uneven line length)
Blue flowers plucked
Nyona bak chang** moments;
Satisfying rice cakes
By this old fence
Echoes of giggles;
Laughter mocks schoolyard
Road diversion
Roundabout detour;
Long cul de sac
Wedding festivities
Details and stuff;
Final agenda looms
Joy wears a face
Celebration evokes;
Certain gratification
Flame of the Forest tree
Nice shady bough;
Rain drops seeping
This old site
Venue of past demeanours;
Regret and guilt linger
Windy day
Hair reconfigured;
Unkempt spikes
In sure fashion
Nothing stays the same;
Change interferes
Wind howling
A haunting refrain;
Ghostly echoes cry
New instance
Go the distance;
Ply resistance
Do not be
Afraid of fear;
It's just an old gripe
Old apartments
Need a facelift;
Time weathers pains
Leon Enriquez
03 August 2014
Singapore
(Notes: Nyona bak chang** --
The word "Nyona" means a Straits born Chinese lady
with the social graces of a genteel sort, who are
known as a Nyona from a distinct group called the
Peranakans, who have a mixed heritage of Chinese and
Malay customs and traditions. This is today a dying breed.
The word "bak chang" means a cooked food product
made from glutinous rice with a centre filled with
sweet pork meat, spices and sauce, and chestnuts, packed in
long leaves in the shape of a pyramid tied with strings.
Such delicacies are steamed until the aroma fills the
air and makes you desirous to eat these tasty morsels.
The natural tinge of blue colour on the glutinous rice comes
from the "blue flowers" freshly picked for use in these rice cakes.
My maternal grandmother was a Nyona lady who had
a big heart, a warm smile and who loved me very dearly.
I miss her smile though she died when I was only four.)
Who will cry for the little boy,
Whose wails are heard resounding inside the man.
The man whose ever unhealing wounds are clothed in pride,
These mortal scars he wears beneath his flesh
To him are medals of honour
testimonies to his character
Though his visage is a prominent countenance of pride
He is ailed by a phantom of a little whelp
a wailing boy who stands at the threshold of time
ever hurling his lamentations to the man
with accusatory tones in little grievous voices
accursed day the mother's nipple he purged
with tiny bites and little nibbles his mute protests understood
and from his suckling lips his nourishment rid of with haste,
& left after the mother's guttural wails, a glutinous white trail of sweet aliment.
in persuit of new tastes, urged to crawl away from those who knew him
needing to quench his dry life with spirits and to lick his wounds in solitude
the boy's mistake his haste attitude to become a man
Ever and forever more so, suckling from a bottle's tip the said spirits, the malignant acids,
remedies to calm his demons, heart hardened and his will to live humbled, now with each sip he impugns his need to exist, sipping these pernicious aliments to tenderly nourish his grave and coax his days shorter.
bear not amiss the abhorant, dreaded days ere
when harsh lines marked the path he progressed,
in the keeping of a world with vile intentions this lone boy
with no loving hand to stroke a tender flame on his fragile emotions
accursed day when ignorancy ailed one such as he, to hate blindly
pride and arrogance his eventual downfall ever stirring him to ignorancy.
hate he suckled as nourishment from the nipples of a mother whose bosom coursed with old hate.
robbed of her maidenhood, violated absent care, then the spawn to disdain and loathe unfurl out of the desecrated womb, a gift from nemesis
woe ye the day he bid his own counsil unworthy to heed
ignorant of benevolence his creeping demise unfurl
heart unchanging ever frozen in the frame of the babe
It was another caramel summer day
melting all the furniture
and dripping from every memory.
It was the high noon shadowless roadway
sweltering stillness of burning tar
and glutinous in scorching injury.
There was the sky of permanent porcelain,
a cloudless azure ceiling
of blistering sun.
All retention or anticipation,
the spacetime continuum
vanished, vanquished
by unrelenting summer day.
Alas, ‘tis a tire, a tire o’thy ire
Hilli-ho! Bless ye enlightenment so,
O wonder is glutinous’n glory
Ho! So deem thee glutinous whence basking’n this glory!
Some push, some pull, cutting so deftly with idle energy
Chirrup! Ho, chirrup! Dance, do prance anyhow, everyhow
Professing unlike the former, latter insignificant thoughts
Chirrup! Why, clear away!
F’why hath this matter so?
Gladly glaze the superstition that supper is but brief
Conduct thee here, pulsing, thriving, alive here so
Bold young brooding worrywart
Thwart ye worries, in excitement and ecstasy and boyish buoyancy
And in an unbroken light enlighten, ho!
Stream beneath thee, bequeath thy soul!
F’one shall bask in glutinous glory afterall!
Yo-ho! Resolve thee, t’be a bran-new barmy mare.
28//1//26
“Heady heights..bright neon lights..giddy delights
Arsonists torching the Indian empire
Reputations scorching..awash with brilliant whites
Gilded generation ire… spoils soiled in an oily quagmire
Sailing the conquest crest..Kiwi veneration..scaling Test Everest
Perturbed…wondrous walloping to disturbed lolloping..absurdly dire
Otherworldly umami of the Barmy Army tsunami
Marauding sneers trumpet.. foolish career nadirs..retire
Ghoulish gravity..devoured by a glutinous abyss
Bazball belter depravity..sensationally soured bucolic bliss
Hoodwinking..hasten Black caps helter skelter sinking
Downed & drowned in a bottomless basin..stinking
Hilariously or nefariously bombastic
Bellicose blows vicariously fantastic
Lambasted & larruped..willow wizards’ blizzards
Scary..leery…Kiwis dreary..wary..weary
Boisterously babbling record book pleasing Brook..
Febrile lairy timber & turnstile teasing fairy
Frazzled dreams bedazzled by pyrotechnic memes
Peacocking cavorting with shocking ripsnorter slaughter
Lampooned buffoons marooned…as Jaffas deliriously spill.. festooned just like Seville
Bazball booming batting baritones..delicious blooming blossom
Vicious..nailed..pernicious.. flailed like an impaled pesky possum
Stranded in a leaking latrine…Baz branded..reeking of what could have been
Outrageously courageous…ridiculously sublime at the same time
Flat track thuggery fortuitously free from spin skulduggery?
Cosy club snubs…mandarins’ selectorial sins?
It’s coming home..it’s coming..in Welly on the telly..what we have seen
Prodigal Bazball from South D has already well & truly been"
THE COLLUSION OF CLOUDS
trying to cling, soil erodes,
moving with mayhem seditiously.
the collusion of clouds, mocking,
as the roots of the house
horde their portentous possessions.
the wind and waves, crescendo
near the cliff’s edge, calling out ghosts
with wispy talons, to drag
the clutter of centuries to the grave.
revelation of time ne’er befall
the current occupant, tangled
in the foregone conclusion -
the dash of cinder and splinter
a breakup with dire tidings.
the chill in the bitter air,
corrosive.
chatter of catabolic teeth.
skin clings to a catastrophic
skeleton -
the widow wrapped in the cocoon
of a glutinous web
she takes a final breath
before the descent begins…
2/20/2019