Long Icing Poems
Long Icing Poems. Below are the most popular long Icing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Icing poems by poem length and keyword.
The winter of our discontent is over,
the Merciful God of the oppressed
has seen to the de-icing of our hued souls;
and the blossoming essence of our liberation.
The grapes of spring are plentiful
and the heat of the sun is upon them
but they must not be allowed to become
like raisins wrinkled in the winds of time.
Hued grapes of wrath they are;
plump and ripe; their juices ready
for the fermenting of sweet freedom
of man-child children in the promised land.
Today the purpose of our purple color
comes full circle as new vines rise
with their eyes watching God—singing
songs of Solomon with spring rain voices:-
Today’s spring harvest will yield new seeds
germinating fruits—infused and immune
to fungal white-washing and viral deceit.
It's spring time and lush ripe Lenten grapes
wait to be as fine wine in the season
of new life—discerning and understanding
the thirst of the historical season they are in.
Yes, those that are young may grow weak,
but the Elders are the tilted Nile Crescent soils
to nourish them to purpose—that…“ they will rise
on wings like eagles…run and not get weary…
[that]...they...[may]...walk and not grow weak.”
Oh, the Elders have climbed the watchtower
of the struggle, and have seen the lightning
and heard the thundering echoes—giving
answers to their weathering complaints.
Today’s spring harvest is indeed plentiful;
and we few reapers must get to reaping
What is to come will no longer seem slow,
but will surely come and be true in due season.
Indeed the resurrection of us and whose we are,
will certainly take place and it will not be delayed.
Sage village reapers, let us be mindful,
trustful, and true to our testament of hope:
“To have faith is to be sure of things we hope for,
to be certain of the things we cannot see...”;
faith brings the harvest, and the reapers
must surly rejoice and be glad in it all:-
When all there is might seem a mess,
Adrift, far out to sea
When all there is seems somehow less
Than what it ought to be
We cannot know, but we can guess
We are the fantasy.
As planets move within their spheres,
We see their harmony;
Watch birds in flight migrating steer,
In synchronicity;
We choose the truth when it appears
We are the fantasy
The faithful claim what god has made
Cannot be a mistake
And others say the whole charade
Is nothing but a fake
But somehow on the top we’re laid;
Like icing on the cake
We measure microscopic things
We cannot even see
Watch dust clouds pushed by cosmic winds
Out of the galaxy
We fly with ideas spread like wings
We are the fantasy
All that there is, our science consigns
To mass and energy
We order stars to our designs
To snare our destiny
We join the dots; we draw the lines
We are the fantasy.
A View From My Window
Perched high above the tree line
A lofty place to be,
A birds-eye view of roof tops
And smoking chimney's.
Rising higher than the eye can see,
Spiral rings take flight,
Riding on the playful wind,
Like string-less kites; vanish out of sight.
A sleepy village awakens
To a blanket of pristine snow,
Gaily glazing abandoned fields,
Where flowers use to grow.
Window panes are frosted
In delicate scalloped lace,
Fences stand like sentinels,
Wearing a bearded face.
Clerical collars band wooden columns,
Whose ledges are built of stone,
And flirtatious flakes, congregate,
A textured pattern all their own.
Eaves, hard line edges,
Now swathed in frothy white,
A creamy marshmallow icing;
An illustrated, storybook delight.
As daylight turns to dusk,
And street lamps begin to glow,
The drifting snow keeps rising,
With peace and calm below.
When night falls and stumbles into slumber
reshuffles memories and tumbles crumbles
minds and mines of coal dust into icing sugar
it transposes trifle tribulations and awakens
Where evening stars and creatures of the dark
mix and mingle myriads of constellations shine
lunar aspirations convert converse in quiet sleep
they silently expose fake impositions of delusion
Why and how and for what reason a cruel world
in guise of rationalised temptation in quite some cheek
and bum and bottom line prescription untangles in
the solace soul and solar comfort of caress eludes
We may be well advised to choose between and
well beyond advancing torturous flagellation of
fool’s false impression misguided paradox reality and
walking sleep catching dream latching over and above
When evening mist and dusk beholds no further
prison walls of misconception’s assault on sanity
imprints no further coffin nails on human nature
the radiant twilight unfolds to tell the story yet again
08th February 2017
Within my breast still boils like summer clouds
Passion and longing_ desire to be held
Like one afraid of summer's thundercloud
Feeling secure, warm, loved to his body weld
What happened to that flame; did glacier flow
Icing even small ember tucked away?
When did the last bit of scented smoke blow?
Love on different plane now exsist everyday
The new rose on the trellis grows pale buds
Soon to flower mature_ then loss of power
Sad plight each goes full circle fall with thud
Passionate love with a thud soft flower
Love's passion filled veins now clogged arteries
Cleansing required maybe just bilberries
Other End of the Street
The Wall
Berlinish
Walls
Apart
We suffer
Brothers
Easy to hate what you can not see
So instead we all suffer in misery
Worlds apart
In the same village
Modern wars, are fought on TV
Confusing the haters, maybe you and me
Do not be fooled
I will teach you how to kill
All of your enemies
Not one rocket fired
Simple
Very simple
Love your children
More than hating any enemy
This is the feast of peace
The dessert?
Invite the enemy
Into your home
He shall lie dead before you
Slayed, not with a knife
With your kindness
For kindness has no foe
Kindness builds friendships
Friendships build love
Love kills all enemies
The icing on the cake!
Vill du ha efterrätt?
Notes: The last line is Swedish for "Would you like dessert"
Pardon me but have you seen an overweight vampire pass by this way within the last couple thousand years?
Come to think of it, I've never seen a fat vampire
It's not like they get a lot of exercise
Laying around all day in their own grave
You would think they'd a bit larger in size
I mean don't they ever get hungry
So hungry they say they could die
That's hard as the walking dead with no lives left
Bet they'd love if blood came deep Southern fried
Do they prefer meat eaters over vegetarians
Do they like their veins to be grain feed
Or they picky or not with the choices they've got
And would they settle for whatever is left
It'd be nice if they could at least enjoy desert
Maybe a slice of Red Velvet cake
With icing so cold, matching their dead empty soul
And red of course for reds bloody sake
Yes, all the vampires I know are skinny minnies
Could be cause they only know how drink
I find it kind of cruel as all they can do is drool
Watching as living sit there and eat
Can’t you hear the silent trickle rusting
on the bell of liberation
shouting into the wind of nascent freedom
Its trick or treat frosted
or icing on the caked in disguise
It sounds action once and for every all
yet the muted concerto
lost its bearings the clapped out
clapper corroded in timeless quest
of percussion dangling from the crown
Swinging like a forlorn anchor on
the chain of progress it casts
agony screams daylight low life robbery
a trigger creaking in terminal despair
begs mercy forgiveness redemption
Tim is a diver of deep seas and quest
for knowledge solemn
comprehension seeks a quiet tune
of justice equality and peace
and there it rested in the shipwrecked path
He searched among the debris swayed in
rock bottomed murky hull
and just when he glimpsed the compass
his weight belt buckle scraped
open on the voyager’s skeleton’s metal bar
A quick ascent his lungs near bursting
frantically breathing out
for sheer survival one glance on the
depth gauge the other on
the sheltered bell speedily retreating
From his tranquil speechless vision came
enlightened understanding
that tell tale signs appear in strange disguise
Sometimes buoyancy reveals
dark secrets once we listen harder than before
A bell is a bell whether we discern it or not
it uplifts when properly
looked after and even from a distance
and thus once timid Tim will
never forget the rushing bubbles in his ears
He’ll dive again and venture in fortune
has vowed to spread
the message and reverberations and
moves his wetted appetite
and lips for you and I to hear and cherish
16th September 2018
Cup Cake Insurrection
Evidence mounts as cup cakes bake in ovens
Camouflaged in chocolate brown
Revolutions start this way they say
Secured, metallic ready in tin pans waiting
375 degrees transformed
To something spongy to the touch
Perhaps we are over thinking this too much
Cup cakes are not the enemy, not out to get us
No one ever died of deliciousness I trust
Only a few pounds gained from wolfing down too many
Rising up while baking is not an uprising or revolt I'm told
They don't carry concealed weapons to my recollection
Or topple monarchies or kill government officials… I think
Topped with sugar icing, colorful sprinkles, innocent and happy
Deep inside I suspect strange things are happening
Cup cakes baked outside our country
Come here with unknown ingredients
Want citizenship with no visas
It is hard to keep the peace with foreign recipes
Cup cakes don't really understand our ways
While baking in tin pans
Have your people call my people
We'll set something up
Solve a few world problems
Over a simple lunch
Discussing all the does and don'ts
All that needs to be done
Serve up a delicacy of world peace
Before the taste is off our tongue
We'll lick the icing on the energy crisis
In the middle of dessert
A rather tasty morsel
Before we head back to work
Oh and when it comes to world hunger
We'll both get doggy bags
That is if in our gluttony
There is anything left
The only thing is we seem to argue over
Is this slight problem we both have
Who's turn is it this time
To pick up the tab