Long Hovels Poems
Long Hovels Poems. Below are the most popular long Hovels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hovels poems by poem length and keyword.
The war refuses the head, below wasting in dead
Rearing the front as storms fell the timbers rot
Upheavals breast, shorn and filled in neglect
Lay useless she had cried, allow dimple and deny
Tis only folly we are joined from, seasons blurry
Contemptuous fury, theatrical brevity, lifeless
Burning misery, hasn’t all gone and come
Just so fiddle and spun, as garnish and lathe
Without soured breads fortune, and curled ears late
Forever they attend, a hearts creative bend
And rule they must, alas at lose in unbreakable crust
He in hand created this land, in tales of ferried rows
Gentled slave we musn’t hate, crucible’s labors as knave
In there buildings, craving and fighting, loud and obscene
Fruitful as flies, multiplying night skies
Crying babes of violence, unruly and brutal
Off again we should shout as they, steam filled hovels in suet
A candle burns its life away;
sacrifice to it, is sweet;
it is a candle’s lot in life.
Candles gift, a light dark cloaked;
beacon burning bright;
candles warmth and charm are unmatched by
anything else, man has made.
Candles birth soft memories;
lend rest to the eyes and romance to the heart.
Candle has sung many centuries;
a companion in dark ages; on dark nights,
its glow can hold childhood terrors, at bay.
Candle songs kept aging sailors company on raging,
storm-ridden seas. No bullying leviathan
would ever cross candle’s path willingly.
Even sea monsters fear its burning breath.
Candles glow, a dancer on the air,
dances for everyone;
candle-tango brings passion to lovers.
No one is alone when candle is near,
such a light-companion,
draws others to its domain.
Candle has gathered friends together in
taverns to celebrate;
in hovels, for warmth and at parties of celebration.
By candles gift, we find our way home;
its welcome warmth, a song of love on an empty, cold night.
When you burn, burn bright and long;
your light is the warm love that you leave to the world.
No bulb, LED or solar panel can bestow your gift.
When your flame is gone, when your torch has been passed;
your legacy will light another’s way to
faith, hope and love.
In sepia shadows where my soul drowns,
In the depths of misery, where silence reigns,
Yet, there blooms a serenity, a pure harmony found,
A whispered symphony, where silent dreams are bound.
In the poorest cottages, amidst dirt and decay,
My eyes see paintings hidden in despair,
Colors dance in veiled corners of the day,
My soul, with an irresistible pull, cannot stray.
The world, a canvas in the somber weave of gray,
Yet, in the faintest light, I perceive a brighter day,
A gallery of dreams in the chaos they convey,
In every shadowed niche, the secret of light lay.
The depths of misery, though vast and deep,
Hold secret gardens where resilient flowers leap,
A landscape of sadness, where beauty finds its keep,
In the embrace of despair, whispers of hope creep.
Through tears, visions gently play their part,
Silent melodies trace the contours of the heart,
Paintings in hovels, sketches in the dark,
My spirit rises, drawn to an artistic spark.
Within me, the music of the heart remains,
A harmony that pain's touch contains,
In the dirtiest corners, my dreams sustain,
An irresistible force, the chain of destiny strains.
In the threads of sorrow, joy weaves its line,
Amidst life's debris, beauty's charm is fine,
Guiding my spirit with a divine shine,
An irresistible pull through the sands of time.
Thus, even in suffering, I find a view,
Where art and music blend in a gentle light,
Pain transforms into a serene flight,
In the realm of dreams, everything becomes delight.
Beneath a white blanket, Gaia sleeps;
in crystalline slumber, dreams cascade,
like the thawing waters of a river.
Her children are nestled deep,
among the roots of the trees
and hovels dug beneath her skin;
it's the dying of the old ways,
in preparation for new beginnings,
that rolls across her Dream-Screen
in tones of floral blush and
newborn leaves popping from woodland nodes.
Waterway arteries pump their fluids,
up above and beneath; her body lean,
of moist skins and drying ancestral bones.
Rocky sentinels share their air with
evergreen children of her soul;
lending contrast to stark whites,
are verdigris and sepia hues
intermingling with the song of rambling
water sprites, unseen by human eyes.
Just a kiss of nature's soul,
is a dream conversion into
the flora of springtime's passion.
I set out on a long journey by train
That spans from end to end
Out through the window flashed past
Assorted scenes one by one
Sky scrapers and mud hovels,
Steaming cities and peaceful hamlets,
Row upon row of maize and wheat,
Bent down under the weight of grain
Cars gliding along crowded streets,
Children school bound in crisp uniforms
Cattle grazing on distant hills,
Cadets on parade beside their tented camps
Smoke coiling up from tall chimneys,
Sizzling cascades from the heights
Swirling streams and glistening rivulets,
Silky meadows and tall mounts
Disposed not to enjoy the scenes,
My mind moored to the final halt
Saw nothing before, but the destination
My fellow travelers – a flaunting menagerie,
Communed with few, connected to none
At every halt, some exited out
And strangers came in to fill the space
But all to myself- my eyes far set
Damning the distance, I waited on and on-
A wretched lone traveler, like a sailor lost in the sea,
Restless I was to reach the shore,
My ears agog to shouts of welcome
My body eager for the warm embrace
I paced the aisles and counted the miles,
Impatient and irate, I grew
I dreamt, my life - a jig saw puzzle,
The pieces neatly fitting together
On arrival after a tedious trip
Once and for all, at my terminus
With my gaze fixed beyond the horizon,
Caring not to see what lies before
I continue to travel miles on end
To a place that outdistances me ever!
March.21. 2022
Form J- Just Write Me a New Poem
Sponsor- Constance La France
If I were granted three wishes for the world, I'd wish first for
Truth -- an end to Lies and Deception -- Integrity at its core
Starting with each individual, in every home, on every block
In every city, every region, every country -- Truth as society's bedrock
Next I'd wish for Peace -- permanent, everlasting and real
More than just the absence of War, Peace with Truth as its seal
Peace between family members in every single home
Peace in villages, towns, metropolis' -- wherever our species may roam
Then I'd wish for Love, joyous, pure and unconditional
Love for the other as for oneself, completely non-judgmental
Love between family members in all our hovels and our homes
Love the whole world over, embedded in our genes and chromosomes
October 15, 2018
Entry in "Three Wishes" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kevin Shaw
I DREAM OF LIGHTING DANCING IN A RED SKY.
BLACK CLOUDS
ACID RAIN
THE EARTH SWEEPS BEFORE ME
HORIZONS OF SILENT DESOLATIONS
A CHASM OF GREAT VOLUME BREAKS
BEFORE MY VISION LIKE A WAVE
OF DRY SAND DIVIDING
GREAT LANDS ONCE RULED
AEONS AGO BY ANCIENT EMPIRES
ONE OF "GOD WE TRUST" AND MINI MARTS
ONE OF THE GREAT MOTHERS RED STAR.
THEY RUSHED IN A RAGE
TO THE FIERY END IN THEIR LAST PAGES
AN AGE BURNED THE EARTH
IN THERMO FROST
ICY FIRE
A DAY THE WORMWOOD FELL
NOW A MILLENNIUM FOLD
DEATH
REELED IN GLEE FOR IT IS LORD
OF THIS LIVIN’ HELL
AS I HEARD IN STORIES TOLD
THE LAST LINE OF EVE
THE LOST LEGIONS OF ADAM
HUMANITY
COWER ON A BRIDGE OF STONE AND GLASS,
RUST BLEEDS INTO DYING GRAND RIVER
DRIED REMAINS OF GREAT OCEANS,
BRIDGING LANDS OF ANCIENT WORLDS,
ONCE IN TIME
HOPE
TRIED
TO QUITE HATE AND RAGE IN A DISTANCE AGE
A HANGING FORTRESS OF HOVELS
WAS FORGED A MILLENNIA TOLD
WHERE SOULS SCRAPE OUT A MEAGER LIFE
A RAMBLING MONA5TERIES
OF OLD CARS AND NEON BARS
WHERE CAGES OF IRON HIDE WOODEN CROSSES
FAITH IN THE AFTERLIFE
I STAND BEFORE THE BEHEMOTH AND FEAR ITS
MIGHTY SPANS THAT CRISSCROSSES FORGOTTEN
LANDS (I WISH IT FROM MY SIGHT)
IN DREAMS I SEE ITS MIGHTY
SPIRES DESTROYING MY
ENVISIONED LAST DESIRES
MY IMAGES BRAKE AND
FALL ONTO NIGHTMARES OF
A ONCE GREEN WORLD NOW
VISIONS RETURN
BRIDGING THE LANDSCAPE OF
MY MIND-EXPANDING A RUINED EARTH
UNDER CRIMSON SKY
DISEASED BLACKENED THUNDERHEADS FLY
ROVING TUNDRAS OF GLASS BLOWN BROKEN SAND
I WIPE ACID RAIN FROM MY NECK
I TURN AND LEAVE THIS TOWERING WRECK
OF
VERMILION CHROME BLEEDING
INTO INFERNAL LANDSCAPES & NIGHTVISIONS
(Based on a real nightmare)
Cowboys in the Badlands
The horses need be reined tightly
lest they show better judgment
and head back to the barn. The
cowboys, driven by the dust cloud
of following hoof beats, were less smart.
A Gila monster smirks as they pass
knowing what waits ahead is to be
more painful than the rope they flee.
Driven by the torments of a lost war,
a lost home, a lost dream, they had
lashed out at the hunger, fled the
hovels of a shanty town and swore
to exact payment any way possible.
The consequences of the decision
pursued them, consumed them,
as they rested the horses. The horses
must rest, they never would.
They stood overlooking the badlands,
shimmering heat’s forever fallacy,
that somehow you would cross to
safety, find an oasis, escape. Oh,
you may escape the posse, maybe
even the past, but you will not
escape the bitterness of these
bad lands and their unforgiving
demands. Few have come here
willingly, fewer have remained
once tested by the dryness, the
drought, the wind, sand, and
anger of a land seeking to be
left alone. And so they rode into
the abyss of sand and stone
leaving only the hoof prints
of fading memory. Bandanas
covered their faces, hat brims
covered their eyes. They rode
until the horses fell, unable to
continue. Horseless, they staggered
in the shifting sands laughing
as they recalled staggering from
the saloon on that awful night.
The night they gave up, the night
they gave in to the desperate desire
to be free. A desire that was now
to be fulfilled in these Bad Lands.
For Isaiah Zerbst – Cowboys in the Badlands poetry contest
9/15/2014
The pedestrian kettle steams on to the Capitol pyre
With a weight watcher tonic; more lean legislators to sire
The Grand Old Party a taste of the aromatic brew doth require
Medicinal tonic blended to alleviate bloating gout of every Democratic squire
Preferring their watered-down, generic brand, constipated digestive tracts go haywire
The savy financiers sit on the sidelines in their cozy markets ignoring the taste test flier
The partisan grit clogs the filter producing a quagmire
The vitriolic ingredients boil over causing a rancid fire
The billowing smoke rises and streams to the patrician choir
The generic master brewer in his white house stews in the demagogic mire
Commercial winds sweep in fanning the flames causing the heat to reach dome's spire
The regurgitated grounds spewed forth to every intoxicated shire
Democratic gainsayers scare the elderly that the side effects are so dire
The rest of the squeamish plebians in their depleted hovels continue to sip their Common Roast with ire
On sandy beaches and along fertile riverbanks,
In fecund soil and in lush green plantations,
Coconut trees stand tall towering into the sky.
They are benevolent palms at the service of generations.
A coconut tree is a marvel of creation, every part of it can be used.
Its umbrella like crown of leaves shades us from sun.
Its circular, heavy cluster of fruits enrich our bodies.
From coconut husks, coir mats and ropes are spun.
The milk-white kernel inside the coconut shell,
Is used in curries, cookies and for extracting oil.
The water inside is a healthy, delicious drink.
Its vast net work of labyrinthine roots holds the loose soil.
Its sturdy trunk is used as a support for anchoring small boats.
Coconut shells in the hands of a craftsman turn into attractive curios.
Palm fronds are used for thatching small hovels and sheds.
Thus, from foot to crown, its uses and charms are various.
If one is stressed, it is therapeutic to de-husk a coconut.
It is a fine exercise and an ideal way to de-stress.
If angry with some one and wish to tear him limb by limb,
Break a coconut and it will take away all your noxious distress.
Still if you don’t feel comfortable and are with tingling nerves,
Scrape a coconut bit by bit and by the time you finish,
All your anger must have slowly gone as steam into air,
And in course of time, you will see it thoroughly vanish!