Long Infringe Poems
Long Infringe Poems. Below are the most popular long Infringe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Infringe poems by poem length and keyword.
SONG CREDITS :
Song : Mon Karigor
Singer : Tahsan
Lyric : Robiul Islam Jibon
Tune : Imran Mahmudul
Music : Imran Mahmudul
Album : Mon Karigor
Label : Cd Choice
Cast : Azim Uddula & Saowla
Director : Chandan Roy Chowdhury
Lyrics:
The foreshadowed clouds , wanderer within the sky
Not an easy one to tame through dispersing whisk
A faded glory wither down the colors, once held dear to heart
Once a plethora, a handful of gatherer bestowed, inner, introvert
Living through a mistaken grace
Rusty salty warm tears , a brimming trace
Genesis you said, Xanthosis, through these emotions, lingering long, worldly boom, recess
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….
A painstaking lump some pain, overwhelming drowning a pour
Speechless a corridor and an ambling, nonetheless, lo and behold! None to hold accountable.
Wishful a mirror , a thousand whims
Ambivalence and a croon, tricking down the chicks of time, on lime.
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….
The sand castle dream , too fragile a misfit, a shore the lively stream
Morbid a shore, enacted, plays along the indifferent acted upon, among the walks of dream
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….
||END||
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Remember the days of
yesteryear
when family ties were
held most dear,
and gas lamps flickered in
the back street
while most of us danced a
different beat!
Tragic alleyways of
smog and smut
“Live over the brush”
Branded a sl*t,
silhouettes infringe the
darkest night
gullible back shift broke the
morning light!
Adventurous nights at
“Townhead mill”
A pint of beer the
back porch thrill,
when no! Meant yes in
rapturous skill
to fumigated music from
“Nashville”
Obnoxious libertine this!
Bread man
bay curtain drawn
delivery van,
the structure conspired
indiscretion
clinical the world’s
oldest profession!
Sporting gentlemen in
summer bliss
caught first ball! Costly night
on the piss!
Pavilion home to
moorside drover
many a chaste maiden
bowled over!
Partial pilgrimage down
“Bolton Road”
Black and amber heroes
round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout
the room
manly skills embroider the
village groom!
Cardinal days steeped in
“Rock’n’Roll”
Sire in fear of them out
of control,
a colossal wedge
between culture
in shadows of decency
vile vulture!
Repetitious days of
school yard might
“Alfie” Reduced to a life
of plight!
Parent queried! Yet
misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the
neighbourhood!
Lads and lasses lost in
“Hide and Seek”
Games of “stroke-a-Back”
every week,
by the old school yard we
all did laik*
Now the street is naked, for
“Heaven sake!”
© Harry J Horsman 2020
*laik Yorkshire for play, as in 'play out'
This piece of inspiration was provided to me in a context whereby it appeared to me that a person present was occupying a position of authority and responsibility, and was allowing the power of his position to be minimized by the flaws and weaknesses of his personhood.
*************************************
Do not allow your person to inhibit your position. Do not permit your position to infringe upon your person.
Sometimes the lines are so close and narrow that only the Holy Spirit can distinguish and keep the two apart.
As a result, such a person must appeal to God for wisdom, direction, and guidance
051422PSCtest, Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest. Brian Strand
How can I change what has already been changed?
Everything has been tried over a thousands ways,
and there my perplexing question lays...
without a persuasive answer connecting the flow of words
to a revelation that necessity has invoked!
What else can I write when every subject
has already been written about by those illustrious writers?
But there's never a shortage of inventiveness...
that's found in the intellectual cleverness
that's only found in their depth!
How can I possibly replace the gentle pen which flows,
from an imagination so genuine and free?
I'll complete my sentences that wouldn't be an object of envy
of those written in the dreadful eras of restricted liberty;
one must bring more realism to questionable stories!
What new thoughts will be expressed by this mind,
not to imitate or infringe upon those writers' works lauded by society;
and give them proper credentials for their creativity...
one can't help being inspired and transformed by their originality,
great writers or composers wouldn't excel without the precedent!
How can I speak of fairness, if I don't practice it myself?
My human side should be compassionate;
take on that unprejudiced and forgiving look...
I,too, I'm subject to faults and replete with regret;
when my conscience isn't reminded of death!
What can I create from those eight notes
that await the awakening of inspiration from me?
For hours and hours my fingers will pound tirelessly...
on this piano, to write that unforgettable melody
that somebody will hear and play many times!
How can I change what has already been changed?
I'll risk it all by revealing my unfortunate events...
contesting their wills and connoting their faults!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
twasn’t an absence of belief in
hexes or voodoo ****, black magic,
witches or warlocks,
which brought to mind the maddening
of the crickets, for
900 species of those sinister gryllidae
couldn’t be wrong &
they came anyway---
chirping their nocturnal nonsense &
forcing the writer to rack her brain,
as all she wanted was to keep the
mental
pedal
to the
metal &
yet, nature allows no rest for the
proverbial wicked---
with said writer being the type
who would stick it out to the last
moment of supposed sanity,
she finally snapped!
not being able to get a word down
because of those damn crickets,
not being able to get a sentence down
because of those goddamned crickets,
not being able to get a paragraph down
(with a deadline at hand) in the middle
of the goddamned morning,
amidst the noise pollution just outside
her window,
all because of those
god****ingdamned crickets!!!
so swiftly,
like the wing’s flap of the most
eloquent great bird which comes to
mind,
she jumped from her seat & went to the
gun cabinet---
there, she kept a bb gun, a fashionable
revolver that once having the CO2 capsule
popped in, looked menacing enough
(she felt) to fend off an intruder,
whilst at the same time, it didn’t really
infringe upon her stance on gun control.
with this, she went outside,
bb gun in hand &
started blazing away
without any real notion that what she
commenced
would put any dent in the insanity that these
goddamned crickets
had manifested upon her
&
as the chirping sounds did not &
would not cease,
she dropped to her knees after her
bb gun was empty,
weeping, sobbing &
slobbering tears & spit all over herself,
curled up in a fetal position right out
there in her back yard,
submitting herself to the servitude of
the insects at hand.
Hello. My name is Spring and I make an appearance every year.
People have often made comments of me like, 'Spring is in the air'.
For Daylight Saving Time, many will say 'Fall back and Spring forward'.
Well, they can say that, but sometimes I am early and other times late.
Sometimes, Old Man Winter hangs around too long, taking up my 'air space'.
And sometimes, I can't wait to 'Spring forward', attempting to push him aside.
That's right my friend, there is more going on up there than meets the eye.
And when cold clashes with heat, especially in my season, there's always
trouble in the sky. And usually, when there's trouble in the sky, it's not long before there's trouble on the ground. I might show up before I am officially
due or I may come after I'm due. It's another way of saying that I might be in the air but not on the ground in your neck of the woods. I may be in the air, but you do not see, hear, or even feel me. You take this winter of 2019 for example. I don't rightly know what's going on out here, and I don't know how long Mr. Winter is going to last, but things are definitely much different.
Anyway, I want to say that each of us seasons has to show up and do our job, and I'm hoping that, as you might be also, Mr. Winter does not overstay or infringe upon my responsibilities. I have to show up on time to restore life, create beauty, and get things growing again. I can't do that if Mr. Winter wears out his welcome, and it is absolutely unthinkable to try pushing him around because he's much stronger than I. So whereas I might be in the air, I might also be there cold and covered in snow, just waiting my turn.
03052019PoSoupContest, Spring Is In The Air, Emile Pinet
Remembering the days of yesteryear
when family ties were held most dear,
gas lamps flickered in the back street
while most of us danced a different beat.
Tragic alleyways of smog and smut
“Live over the brush”* branded a sl*t,
silhouettes infringe the darkest night
gullible back shift broke the morning light.
Adventurous nights at “Townhead Mill”
eight pints of beer the back porch thrill,
when no meant yes in rapturous skill
to fumigated music from “Nashville.”
Obnoxious libertine this bread man
bay curtain drawn delivery van,
the situation conspired indiscretion
clinical the world’s oldest profession.
Sporting gentlemen in summer bliss
caught first ball costly night on the piss,
pavilion home to moorside drover
many a chaste maiden bowled over.
Partial pilgrimage down “Bolton Road”
black and amber heroes round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout the room
manly skills embroider the village groom.
Cardinal days steeped in “Rock ‘n’ Roll”
sire in fear of them out of control,
a colossal wedge between cultures
in shadows of decency vile vultures.
Repetitious days of school yard might
the bullies reduced one’s life to plight,
parents queried yet misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the neighbourhood.
Lad and lasses lost in “Hide and seek”
games of “Stroke a back” every week,
by the old school grounds we all did laik**
now the street is naked for heaven sake.
Why on earth would a mind keep drifting back
this poetry constantly placing me on track,
when life was a role without fame or stars
only toil and trepidation and these scars?
© Harry J Horsman 2013
*Living in sin
** Play
I truly love my birthday…it’s a day that I hold dear…and I love the fact that my birthday falls on the last day of the year.
It’s a time to think about my friends, my children, my grandchildren and my wife…a time to reflect on the latest year in my Fairy Tale life.
I have always loved a good Fairy Tale…and though I know they’re only pretending…I love the stories…I love the adventures…and I love those happy endings.
I have often wondered why I love happy endings…its never been quite clear…if it was the Fairy Tales from my youth…or being born on the last day of the year.
But whatever the reason…now that, today, my birthday is descending, I feel blessed to have lived another Fairy Tale year…with another happy ending.
And though this year has seen its share troubles which tried so desperately on my happiness to infringe…seen it’s share of wickedness and evil that would make even Mother Goose cringe…
It has also seen its share of joy…of acceptance…of compassion…of love and kindness extending…which, if my Fairy Tales are correct, is the definition of a happy ending.
But this is just one happy ending to one chapter in the Fairy Tale I’ve created…The words of next years chapter have yet to be dictated.
When they are I hope I’ll see joy, acceptance and laughter blending…so the end of my 2021 will also have a happy ending…
Because I believe, in life, if you find ways to savor all the joy and cherish all the laughter…..if you string enough happy endings together…
you’ll get your happily ever after.
Tell me truth today, I won't flinch.
I've noticed your smile with a wink;
Yes, your gesture made me to think;
Should I not take it as infringe?
I don't know, if I'm little slow.
Is it an emotional binge?
Can't stop to think, yet can't find link;
Tell me truth today, I won't flinch.
~X~X~X~
**********************************************************
Poetic Form :: Octain Refrain
It was invented by poet Luke Prater of Britain in 2010.
It comprises eight lines as two tercets and a couplet,
either as octosyllables (counting eight syllables per line),
or as iambic tetrameter, whichever is preferable.
Trochaic tetrameter also acceptable.
The latter yields a more propulsive rhythm, as opposed to iambs, which lilt.
As the name suggests, the first line is a refrain, repeated as the last
(some variation of refrain acceptable).
Rhyme-scheme as follows -
A-b-b
a-c/c-a
b-A
A = refrain line.
c/c refers to line five having midline (internal) rhyme (e.g. here/sneer),
which is different to the a- and b-rhymes.
The midline rhyme does not have to fall exactly in the middle of the line,
in fact it can be more effective and subtle, depending on context,
to have it fall earlier or later.
Alternative layout/stanza-structure:
Refrain lines out on their own, with the middle six as two tercets -
A
b-b-a
c/c-a-b
A
Reference:: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/octainrefrain.html
*******************************************************
We are people, not robots. We won’t accept your lies
We will not stand idly by, while another patriot cries
We will watch you crumble and we will watch you sink
You can never tell us, what to do or what to think
This is our Christian country and now you can believe
If you don’t like the way it is, then pack it up and leave
We are not here to serve you. You are here to serve
When you put down our country, you just strike a nerve
You will not teach our children with your venomous bite
We will teach our children what is wrong and what is right
You have no power over us. We will beat your psychological game
God will stay in our government and we will praise His Name
This country’s free and so are you to worship as you please
But we believe that God protects our borders and our seas
We welcome all and pray each day that no one ever be banned
But if you don’t like it feel free to move to another land
Without our permission, you really have no powers
We don’t infringe on your rights, so don’t infringe on ours
We will say Under God in our pledge, each and every morning
Please don’t try to stop us, we are giving you fair warning
Our Christian Constitution is not written on shifting sands
If you try to change it, you will have a battle on your hands
Do not flaunt your authority and push us to the brink
You’ll find out that our people are a lot tougher than you think
This is one nation Under God, so ring the Liberty Bell
If you don’t like the way we live, by all means, go to Hell.