Long Impromptu Poems
Long Impromptu Poems. Below are the most popular long Impromptu by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impromptu poems by poem length and keyword.
In the garden, The Christ did pray
For strength ardent to bear pain's stay.
Gethsemane, the Master kneels
To ask to be with fond appeal.
His close aides lie in heavy sleep;
The Christ now cries in pain so deep.
The soldiers come to seize the king;
Judas now sums betrayal fling.
A kiss laid sound to tell on him;
Jesus is bound with scornful whim.
Then off they go to a mock trial;
Conspire to show with sure denial.
From high priest to Pontius Pilate;
An impromptu in vile charade.
Death sentence flawed in power play
As Roman law primes unjust stay.
Scourged to appease the crowd's frenzy;
The Christ was seized with mad cruelty.
Thirty lashes upon the flesh;
A mocking clash of bloodied mesh.
Crowned with thorns plucked from marine haunts;
Pierced mortal tucked with painful taunts.
Then the mocked king is forced to walk;
Heavy cross stings the burdened stalk.
The route is long with steps uphill;
The Christ bears strong with humble will.
Three times He falls, and feels the whip;
Cruel soldiers all who torments heap.
On and on He bears the wood cross
To death's alley, to sure recourse.
Along the way, The Christ meets those
Who did display the pains and ghost.
Golgotha's space, nails are driven,
The cross is raised in cruel action.
The Son of Man prays for mankind,
To save the damned that evil signs.
Two thousand years have come and gone;
The Christ did peer to times forgone.
Good Friday psalm to each and all,
We must not harm but heed love's call.
Love frames a law: "Who harms, must heal." --
Law without flaw, it's heaven's will.
The way ahead is beyond hate;
Let love break bread as grace now plates.
The Living Christ offers to each
Love's fine reprise: Love each to each.
The message comes to one and all;
Love is the sum of love that calls.
Go deeper still to know and see:
The Christ that wills love and beauty.
Grace sets you free to know your place,
To simply be love's happy face.
Heed this story just to be clear;
Join the lovely way to love's cheer.
Follow your heart and it will show
The steady art that true love knows!
Let love bring light to live and learn;
Let peace bring sight for grace soothes yearn.
Leon Enriquez
18 Apr 2014, (on Good Friday)
Singapore
Impromptu meeting... lightning romance
our hearts, minds, bodies and souls
became one... man and wife
a long time ago... love grew stronger
With no idea what was set in motion
each part of the whole... at times lost
with help from God
a long time ago... love grew stronger
Life stuff happened... at times we were lost
I was sure he would leave me
he worked hard to give us
a life I could cherish... as he did me
a long time ago... love grew stronger
He was seriously injured... again we were lost
he was sure I would leave him
I worked hard to give him
a life he could cherish...as I did him
a long time ago... love grew stronger
Now forty years later... another life phase
our plan is to face our fears
enjoy the life we cherish... and each other
with faith in God... like a long time ago
our love will grow stronger
May 2, 2018
Free Verse on Love Contest - By Laura Loo
Second Place
The Cape Cod Museum of Art had a show
And we caught it the very last day,
Displaying the various works of Bob Staake
In a can’t-help-but-grin type of way.
If you don’t know his work, you must catch up at once
For each piece is a total delight.
There are mobiles and posters and sculpture galore,
Plus the many kids’ books he did write.
In addition to works, what he really does best
Is to illustrate, so you may find
That his fabulous artwork accompanies, too,
Others’ story books that he designed.
If you read The New Yorker, you won’t be surprised
That his covers have often appeared
And each one is a gem with a sly kind of wit
That is perfectly, charmingly weird.
Luck was shining on us, for the day we were there,
We were in for a most special treat.
Mr. Staake paid a visit and we got to join
An impromptu but sweet meet and greet.
What a wonderful way to be able to share
Your esteem with the one who inspired
So much joy; it was thrilling to let someone know
Face to face just how much he’s admired.
I went into the greenhouse to water the plants and flowers
It is my little haven I could stay there for hours and hours
The watering can was heavy with the precious rain
It has been very sunny so I was watering the plants again.
I watered the beans and peas, the tomato plants growing tall
I refilled the watering can; there wasn’t enough to do them all
Moved on to water the melons and the flowering courgette
When underneath the foliage something moved when it got wet
A black and brown toad leap up at me; I thought it was a dream
I dropped the watering can with fright and gave a little scream
Think the toad was pretty shocked at his impromptu shower
So I’ve left him to and hop back and hide under a gerbera flower
Jan Allison
23rd June 2014
En-route Onikan Stadium
I had evaporated from
My abode in Samonda
Only to condense in Iwo road.
There I saw them begging
One barely leaves before
Another jumps on us
They were beggars of the Niger-Area.
Behold !an old haggard
Tattered looking woman,
Muttering some prayers
Only to her very self,
Cowries she needed.
Then comes another man
Clad in all white attire,
Making incantations through
His chimney-like look.
He shakes his head chanting
Some rehearsed -versed prayers
Meant for us passengers
In all, cowries he demanded.
Appears another blind man
With a kid directing his three legs
The first leg he points to pave way
For the other two legs
For he seeth no more
Cowries they needed too.
Two kids looking rumpled
Their mother tailing from afar
They are from a lake called Chad
The Chadian kids chanting,
Singing in aYoruba language
Their Yoruba pronunciation brings
Passenger’s teeth out impromptu.
Only then and there,
They got attention more
Cowries they had more than others.
More came till I lost count of them
For three scores of a minute
Beggars came begging for cowries ,
Poverty hovers round them
Wretchedness consume their look
Like a Vulture that is about
Being starved to death.
They are all indeed wretched of
The Earth on our own Earth.
The driver fired the engine
Still lost in my thought
About the begging beggars.
I looked through the windows
Only to find more beggars in Lagos
Cowries, they all needed.
Are we not all beggars in this land?
Begging for food , water, shelter ,air . . .
Killing ourselves for crumbs from their table
Even amidst plenty
They have made us empty
They are Gold- Diggers of our wealth.
For how long would we beg?
Can we ever stop begging?
Can we ever exist without begging?
Were we born to beg?
I said to myself “ No”.
We are not destined to beg
We are only made to beg
To suit their whims and caprices
But our desperation to get to the
Destination of our dream land
Lies with the destiny in our hands.
Alayande Stephen. T
February 11th, 2006
11.35am
A true life story.
On my way to Onikan stadium in Lagos
For NANS Zone D Convention .It all happened
Between Iwo Road and Lagos.
Form:
Alieu A. Bah Ask:
How art thou faring bard?
FEMALE BARD: Love art faring well in my heart.
IT WAS you, the master of wit and charm;
With masterful words you have stirred my heart to become
Unburdened, by the keeping OF it!
I can now release the beauty of the love once hidden there, UNLEASHING POEMS FROM MY SOUL IS ONLY BROUGHT FORTH BY ONE WHO'S EARS ARE DIRECTED TO RECEIVE THEM.AND YOU MY YOUTHFUL AND MOST NOBLE BARD HAVE BRING LIGHT INTO MY DARK CORNERS.ASHE'
MALE BARD: Truth have been issued for your blessed heart. Unleashing with such might that I fall prostrate at that power of love. The bard shall thru' eternity sing thy praises of love.
FEMALE BARD: The bard be too jolly if he only sings of love. LOVE lands on tender ears...and my warrior will be weakened. Deceptions of love can blind one’s eyes my Admirer be my Admiral, my warrior king, must be equipped with the sword of two edges.
One to protect me and one to cut deep into my core. Bow my noble bard to no man nor woman, but with a slightly tilted head and a watchful eye. Protect your heart from folly. Really you cannot afford a weakened state not even for me. My lover must be not only a jolly Bard but … My vigilante.
MALE BARD: Aye! Hearken O seeker of the Ideal love of man. Hearts have been pierced into for in the most ancient of sapiens did testify to this... Be warn not to undermine that power which is but God unto us... love shall make thee of the insane. man, truly can transcend that might.
Female bard Oladeji: Love transcends all boundaries/ and true love is just what happens as we communicate/ i will share my heart with you. until we are strangers no more. i will hold this poem close to my bosom and adore you my noble youthful bard.
FOOTNOTE:written around 2013
IMPROMPTU WE JUST MET!
Alieu A. Bah from the Gambia.
West Africa 21 yrs. [at the time]
old / and mamma Oladeji 64 years old [at the time]
AKA VICKI ACQUAH
POETRY AND LOVE / KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES
My existence is a poem I've never finished,
as I've always been unsure what form it should take.
In a labyrinth of lyrics, words are like whores,
unfaithful and easily bought in a virtual marketplace,
so I wonder if it's better to leave them unwritten -
but an unprecedented urge to scribble overcomes me.
My muse is not amused with prose.
Love for rhymes and syllables abandons me.
Yet, I know one day I will produce my best poem.
I remember when I was invisible,
silence was so surreal, until my pen began to shout.
If only love was like our words.
I never asked to be loved,
I always thought it was a natural emotion,
but when you are seen as a foreign seed,
you feel you do not belong.
Fate is like Judas,
that comes with a price,
leaving you confused with the mind like Russian Roulette,
wondering which verses should be sacrificed,
before the final 'bang' takes your life.
We search for normal in an ordinary world,
where such definitions are a matter of perception.
Childhood becomes an enigma when you are guideless,
so you search for faith, but end up faithless.
When your world is burning,
rage becomes your most loyal companion -
releasing trauma through misunderstood screams.
I was born lost in a place I did not belong,
a different breed from a foreign seed.
I've been finding myself since the day I took my first breath,
a bird born too early with ruptured wings,
unable to fly, struggling to breathe,
before I could write or sing,
the universe engraved an anthology of adversity,
an impromptu narrative turning me into an accidental poet -
with an unlabelled identity.
I've walked amongst devils and angels,
been betrayed by their wicked schemes.
Yet, I never cry for yesterday,
I am not a manifestation of my suffering.
There are so many ghosts, I could not heal,
I know their silhouettes will forever haunt,
but I continue to count my blessings,
as I've grown invisible wings,
spreading in the form of free verse.
Their feathers have become my quill,
where my ink soars like an eagle,
because I'm not afraid of approaching storms.
The story of my life will eventually be forgotten,
but maybe my poems will live forever.
Silent One
11 March 2022
Spring rain came for the sixth day in a row, leprechauns were dancing.
Brownies crept out of their mentor’s worm holes to prance along.
The fey love April, for she is the greenest month, and green brings
grass, leaves, regrowth, rejuvenation, refreshing joy and enthusiasm.
Faeries would be along in a week or two, maybe even sooner
if the rain kept up. They always flitted up to the marigolds
The meadow was greening up marvelously and nicely.
Daffodils were the first to show their vibrant blossoms.
Smiles sprung out of winter faces. Flutes and guitars came out.
The little people had an impromptu hoe-down, dancing and singing.
The grass began greening up in its most vibrant way.
The atmosphere felt fresh and new. It was spring – finally!
The lilac buds sprouted out and smiled at the merry making.
Smooth red and yellow tulips came dancing into the fray.
The ruffled marigolds would be about in their own time.
In the meantime, we all danced in honor of the greening of April.
Impromptu early dinner
Before party crowds arrive
December festive décor
Christmas carols in the air
Far from holiday shopping madness
Dining halls extremely peaceful
All truly mesmerizing and ever so perfect
Surely this is how heaven be
The fireplace ablaze and crackling
The jeweled tree propped in the corner
Glittering and winking on cue
This is indeed the best of the season
A fond memory through the year
Treasured preciously in our hearts
We meant to return every year
To repeat this heavenly date
Life happened – too busy or too poor -
Finally we did make it out
Excited at the prospect
Of renewing our enchantment
But where was our tree
Nowhere to be seen
The Maitre D’ insisted
There never ever was a tree
No matter what we had to say
In awe we sat in disbelief
Finally thanking stars up above
For our favourite Christmas memory
The one we both remember
No one will ever convince us
That Christmas magic is a myth
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~THE MAGIC OF CHRISTMAS~ 2023
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
I was driving our new bus down a rural lane
Potholes, rocks, the bus began to complain
GPS didn't reach, I told the rock band
As we bumped along in no man's land.
This will wreck my guitar, said Tony the Rock:
Don't they make tour buses with at least one shock?
The drums were colliding, the keyboard took a spill
The shaking and bumping were making us ill.
Then as we skidded on a section of sand
We saw a mom, 2 girls, and a lemonade stand
What a lousy location, said Freddy McShane
Their sales must be zero, a free-market shame.
So I stopped the bus, and we got out with a bang
All those tattoos, like a Hell's Angel gang
Tony and Lucas and Shannon and Fred
Girls were shocked, then "Awesome" Mom said.
We plunked down 50 dollars, took shots of lemonade
There's nothing to equal the taste of home-made
As we looked out on the field, I thought of a tune
We dropped everything, called it "Lemonade Moon"
We composed it there, in the Arkansas field
A scared horse gave a whinny, but inspiration won't yield
The chords came easy, like they knew where to go
While the gals were thrilled at our private show.
Lucas tapped rhythm on all three drums
Tony played chords, 4 fingers and thumbs
Fred and Shannon did vocals, at top of the game
And I played the keyboard, like I was insane.
(chorus)
Arkansas field, Lemonade Moon
The green bottles fly and the crickets croon
fireflies alight at the edge of night
Girls sing along and it feels alright.
We tried the song one concert, just for fun
To our surprise, it reached number one
Shannon belted improv, with her long blond hair
Fans threw Tony 3 feet up in the air
So turn on the radio, hear our rhythmic tune
As you drive your pickup under a lemonade moon.
Hum in the summer night under a firefly glow
with a heavy metal band in an impromptu show.
And learn entrepreneurship where buses shouldn't go.