Long Hoary Poems
Long Hoary Poems. Below are the most popular long Hoary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hoary poems by poem length and keyword.
The world is full of fools’ theory
Listening to them I feel weary.
Such egoistic heads tell not to worry
And at our back talk oscillatory
Bad about us, creating a crematory
Where they bury their own glory.
They have a bad attitude of sanatory
Coward, showy, deceitful, predatory.
The world is full of fools’ theory
Listening to them I feel weary.
I too had such a mad hoary
Who was ready with an itinerary,
Where all bad & deceit come corollary
As she had a base habit of obfuscatory.
She knew less concepts contemporary
And thought herself vital primary.
The world is full of fools’ theory
Listening to them I feel weary.
Would always ask if I hunky-dory?
We knew those emotions were vapory –
Happy, then sad, angry then nugatory!
Her emotions changed as witch’s allegory,
Hate, spurn, prune are her favourite mandatory:
Now singly fights with colleagues hortatory;
Alas! Does not know her faults & category.
Listening to them I feel weary.
Would always ask if hunky-dory?
At first I tried to be a promontory
So that I can save her crematory;
Blind with pride, less corroboratory,
She spurned me having derogatory.
Now also I pity her as she is a hoary
But wish she improves her oratory.
You spun your spindly web of lies
In the silken strands waxed family ties
You coddled your young then muffled her cries
You buried her carcass 'neath the availing skies
Beneath your black veil lay a predatory disguise
With your guile, you craftily disarmed all of the bleary eyes
A bleeding shroud in your stolid carriage did rise
A new, more sinister plan you did devise
You desecrated the shroud and drained the feeding flies
Intrigue turned to folly as your friends, family reconnoitered with
spies
In your cleansed web lay a portentous prize
From the fowl smell of putrid flesh, a merciless kill they did
surmise
You quickly returned to your spinning mill a more flexible yarn to
reprise
You calmly intimidated that the innocent prey accidentally entered
your vize
With mercy and pardon you greeted its pitiful sighs
After you released your caring grip, it fell through narrow gap, due
to smaller size
Landing in a squalid pool of water, with its plight did sympathize
Drowning in your own cup of drained blood, could not immediately
empathize
When the hoary sun dried its bowl of tears, your twined fates did
realize
Hearts painfully severed, buried the corpse death's sting to
tranquilize
Burying your grief in the earth, your emotive grounds did
subsequently anesthetize
Oh stealthy predator time did your lethal venom into salt crystalize
Your slithery prints the corroded carcass doth no longer advertize
But from heaven's door a saintly angel yet lives your evil deed to
immortalize
Spring’s leading light has challenged Winter’s rule.
The ancient king, befouled, erupted from his early morning slumbering
And marched about his fortress
Enraged and raging.
His fury exploded against the walls,
And threats of retribution echoed throughout the halls
Against the upstart who tested the king’s supremacy.
The bitter monarch,
With eyes of steel and flashing light,
Like Saul, sulking and plotting against young David,
Smacked his hands-
His arctic breath thundered his commands
With authority and showy bluster
In defense of his domain, the
Crowned Head his troops did muster.
The elements converged.
“To Arms!” did he demand.
Sleet, those skilled archers of the hardened world,
Cast frozen arrow across the battleground.
Wave upon wave, the icy weapons hurled, until
The king’s nemesis turned ‘round.
This day’s battle went to Winter
The hoary head in fierce-like frame
His dominion did defend-
The scepter in his hand remained.
The old man’s reign, now prolonged,
The young Spearhead’s confidence disrupted
And denied,
For a time,
The pre-ordained.
But Winter will decline,
His rule and season come to an end.
Then Spring, the anointed heir,
To nature’s throne ascend- and all
The kingdom will rejoice!
© Michelle Waters 2021
Through mirror’s bilge, Mariana on deck -
Wick’d queen, licks lips, with a delicious scheme.
In mock ascent, ego gives cheek a peck.
Suddenly daughter’s reflection - a gleam,
As snow forms queen’s exhale into a scream,
Her rubious threads covered in bright light,
Mariana’s hair in cascading flight.
Furious dark red strands taint apple’s flesh.
Fruit’s innocent beauty beckons a fright.
Hoary-shapeshifter tempts Eve - step-hate fresh.
8/15/2020
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 21 - Dizain
Chosen Title: Incandescence
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Dizain in 10 syllable lines
ababbccdcd
Checked by howmanysyllables.com
You will see me stopping here
To watch this bar fill up with laughter
Between the darkest evening of the year
And the dusty light that has drawn us near.
You must think my accent is strange
Mumbling sounds in a downy lake
With effectual ease and hoary winding age
For a stranger to ask if there is some mistake.
Although your acquaintance is lovely
This red street is dangerously dark and deep
And I have far to go before I sleep in the ally
Where fear is the only other sound to weep.
At the collects bar, the tourist ask
Whose drinks are these you did not know?
I could only see the glow in the glasses
filled with deadly ice-cold snow.
The moment finally came after living hard
with poise and strength, and gritted teeth,
In all the dangers you have survived
breathless bodies in paradise plated in the heat
Blood on the bar appears to most as sauve
The center of activity to be loved and hate
With dark clouds and lights lowered above
Red ground, saddest verge feels the weight.
Happiness is heaven, ecstasy gratifying
Sensual and satisfaction zest and delight.
I am quite confident; it comes all the year round.
It comes in the springtime when new buds appear
And nature's perfume fecundates the parks.
The season is warmer and children can play,
Listen to them, it’s laughter all the way.
It comes in summer, with hot and humid days,
We lie near each other savoring our ways.
The sea is calm and bathers can enjoy
Both a refreshing swim or some cold lollipops.
It comes in autumn with air that's so crisp
As the first snowflakes bring down the red dry leaves.
Thanksgiving is organized, a sumptuous feast.
Tilled harvested fields prepared as the chill is a beast.
But wet windy winter comes cold and hoary days
Snowfalls cover the roads and all stay snug in homes,
Everywhere fireplaces radiate warmth and shelter,
For many people think that happiness is not far away.
And so, as the year draws to a miserable end,
Let’s open a bubbly, and happy greetings send.
Rags To Threadbare Tatters...
(a true “FAKE” story
how Mein Kampf - chill as hoary
frost – and totaling lacking glory.)
A woeful disgraceful
cautionary tale stitched
from the barest thread
harkens back half life
of yours truly
comprising a few decades
in the pluperfect past,
when this husband newlywed
living hand to mouth,
when thy wife and me
occupied mine boyhood abode
sharing one kid size bed,
though dwelling under
same roof as parents,
this "pariah" did dread,
cuz prior to getting married
most every day
found me loathing mandates,
yet never fled
duet hoo bing
cowardly, yours truly
blithely endured pa
rant till fulminations,
and litany of"hateful"
broadsides at my head
minor misfortune, sans scant
details barely one
measly paragraph
tenuously stretched,
thus (with all manner
of dogspeed, I fetched
kvetched against restricted
poetic licensed finesse)
to complete
at least one
page (OpenOffice)
word document spread
attempting to convey penury,
but nonetheless I
consider meself
if nothing else
blue tiff lee well red
irrelevant to stand in good stead,
and pertaining to
profession of thespian,
never found me professionally
acting out a scene
neither did I glean,
nor memorized
scripts, thy counter
with applying literary mien
super tramp ping cheap tricks
to convince skeptical readers
"Quod Erat Demonstrandum"
just show up on opening night
when mine break
out character lean
on words since being "green"
behind ears of corn lean
refulgent klieg lights
will shine a light
asthma pantomime
dramatics mean
business and take
thumb page from playbook
portray me as
superb drag queen
when "lights", "camera,"
and "action" called
debut appearance
with stellar broadcasts
in every magazine!
Four seasons fill a year’s fullness of time
and fills the core of human shell and gourd -
in that season of youth’s Spring balm its prime
will reap the honied hive of years endured.
And golden Summer so brightly spangled
from whence its firstfruits cling the swollen vine,
lest it not plucked lays withered and tangled
only to fall a spoil buried in time.
For circles of life ring the culling tree
when Autumn its rich shedding off has cast -
so begins the end, a fading glory
in the long shadows of lusting days past.
Winter too, when the cold hoary bark wets
and the pale mortal sun upon us sets.
Written: May 2011
A lesson there is to learn
each day to help you earn
the hoary cap of the wise
and glow and wax and rise
with a God-fearing attitude,
reach the peak of the altitude.
Refresh your trust in God on waking;
His favors, yours for the raking.
Course through the day in His light
till the day is capped with night.
A flawed heart weighs like stone
and deprives life of quality tone.
Lowering cloud clears with gale,
so the fears that wilt you pale.
Storm hasn't a permanent home;
it bubbles but bursts like foam.
The rising sun does not care
if dark clouds block his glare;
he blasts and glides with pride
along his track with steady stride.
Friction makes movement sure,
so storm, a boring life’s cure.
If faith fails in the face of fear,
your God's small, far from near.
A lesson there is at dawn of day:
ask God for a storm on the way.
© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi
Quiet, the leaves drip from slender woody fingertips
as shadows cast spectral dreams that breath through misty lips.
In the deep the Sylvan rests against the hoary staff he grips
and feels the ancient magic flow between the rune filled tips.
Taken from a Willow tree on summer moon's eclipse
from gnarled knots, the life it gives, his body freely sips.
Across a knoll he slowly strolls like honey as it drips
as hungrily he eats a fruit and buries all the pips.
From which will grow new tender shoots and supple grassy whips
offering once more to him the sustenance he snips.
The world he knows mysterious and old, his life but an ellipse,
going round and round he trod the ground on his lonely trips.
When he meets the Mountain Lions he bows from bended hips
to show respect and fealty for their regal mien and kingships.
And too, the venerable and stately Oak respectfully he dips,
but as old friends, they laugh and smile with jokes and clever quips.
Evening comes through tired eyes as through the sky the sun rips
tearing through to rainbow hues in brushed on colored strips.
As the night exudes from day, the dark oozes like chocolate dips
in which the fairy, sylph and sprite flies, sings and skips.
But, at the end of each sullen day beneath sweet buds he slips
Folded in their tranquility and ever loving friendships.
05/15/2016