Long Intellectual Poems
Long Intellectual Poems. Below are the most popular long Intellectual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intellectual poems by poem length and keyword.
Buried in an avalanche you
might see on "Hoarders buried alive"
back and foreground
white sheet with limited pay per view,
nonetheless sky scraping heap
(Uriah not kid) nsync with a 'U'-
shaped tube anchored securely thru
solid wood - sporting
towering, leaning, bulging, et cetera slew,
sans huge sized mounds,
this goodfella cockily rue
stirs memories while
almond joying sifting,
(comprising ream mains of outdated queue
vee cee paraphernalia, bank statements, old
fair maidens faded letters, phew
against unrequited lovely lasses
kissed by either gentile or Jew
us gal, during young manhood
confession stated, aye did accrue
now (said besmirched Casanova
wannabe across floor I did strew
said, no longer promising princess,
whose once tenderly fresh rose buds
exuded profusely courtesy ingénue
argh..., how frivolous to argue
with cowardly former self, hence
into the maw of das spouse (Sibyl)
she more than enthusiastically
masticates regarding unblossomed
(romantic opportunity) yours truly blew,
when flickr ring spark flame snuffed out
before profound love chanced to hint
of compatibility, ah... nary a blues clue
maybe best not to fantasize
going down nostalgia avenue,
but cast attention upon motley crew,
no matter I traversed
boulevard of broken dreams
(but oh this...pray lemme tell you
more on this cool spring green day)
ornamented with boughs of churrigueresque
mother nature's divinely wrought
sensational beauty procreative forces construe,
yanking fanciful thoughts back to feeding
pulpy material pages of me child's worldview
scribbled squiggly blurred lines
no doubt gifted artistic prodigies shew
did evince talent this papa doth truly value,
yet an excess of near identical curlique
leaves little breathing room, plus report
cards shows innovative smarts,
frequent affirmations this dada paid due
tee, which gushing praise
my girls never taxed for, yet both knew
this aging baby boomer father decries
being swamped with exorbitant clutter
hence effort now made to save whar grew,
some artistic embellishment and/or
intellectual award, the majority hesitantly fed
into jaw of thee missus the human flew
where hard copy quickly incinerated inducing
me to sneeze atchew!
The reason I will never stop loving you
Is not in existence
And will never be in existence
When I said I am crazy about you
I didn't mean if figuratively
I meant it realistically
Your smile drives me crazy
Your eyeballs drive me crazy
Your intellectual sagacity drives me crazy
Your tenacity and perseverance drive me crazy
The fact that you are still here with me despite my flaws drive me crazy
Ajike, your being drives me crazy
When I said I am mad over you
Like, I mean, I am fantastically mad over you
Why?
Baby, you make me happy
You make me feel loved
You make me lively
You make me feel desired
Indeed you are my better half
Because you absolutely complete me
I loved the honesty.
Netflix, chill then what.
I'd love to unfold you all night.
A reiteration of
Laying on our backs
No longer hesitant.
No longer ignorant.
Transcending the labels we both keep inside.
Suggesting that there's more to appearance.
Standing in the chills of liberation.
We soon were caught in
Organized noise
Lost in flims of smoke
All night long.
Shall we roll another or two.
If I told you right then whose wrong,
Two separate interpretations.
Each to send tremors of truth of what's really happened.
Netflix waits in response
Mahogany fingertips.
Intellectual stimulation.
I forgot errythang I was supposed to be doing.
I concur wholeheartedly with this unexpected attraction.
The television a distraction.
Current circumstances.
Thinking about you
Open invitation
I’ve given up on perfection – it’s
just not me; without saying, also
given up on trying to be perfectly
imperfect – really the same
every now and then tried
but beyond my control
managed to get something
right
not in the definitive sense
(whatever that is) of right
vs wrong...but occasionally,
by sheer luck, following a
method that seemed to work --
right or wrong farthest thing
from my mind
truth be told, most things that
work, really do not work for
the reasons we believe – future
scientific discovery, can make
lame any intellectual ego
So, only certain that this poem
is not perfect, nor perfectly
imperfect – which leads me
to, whether I am beginning
or have begun?~ not to exclude,
doing or done?~ I will then
conclude, perhaps every poem is a
won, when having been written
just for fun!?
This site is da bomb my haven so to speak
It's where I go to mellow out
Away from the ugly news of the day
That we constantly hear about
Without this site my life would be boring
I'd walk around mumbling away
Oblivious to the big old world passing by
Whatta great way to start the day
So many great people call P-Soup their home
Scattered throughout this big planet
Personalities as varied as the fish in the ocean
So many they run the damn gamut
From witty, to clever intellectual or romantic
We all call it home sweet home
A retreat a getaway from all of life's hassles
A place to let our true hearts roam
So let's hear some of that thunderous applause
Because here's the inside scoop
All of us would probably fade into oblivion
Instead we're just happy as poop
My thoughts came up again
Like the rush of a heavy a rain
My finger tips swollen with symbols
Drained in paints of inspired constructs.
I have seen a poison bought cheaply
And kills in a twinkle done twinkly
I have seen of a massacre done
A man under this sun.
I know of a poison bodily bottled
Inherently laden and mottled
Ten times massacre
In abandon and without care.
I have seen a company of bush meats
That roams in pride and strange feats
I know of the dread of a disease
That has crowned many their lives to cease.
I have heard of a prostitutes’ notification
Stripped of their personification
An animalized synonymy
‘’BUSH MEATS ACADEMY’’
I have seen the beasts in men
Like the draught in lions’ den
Many out of many
Dry wells without comfort any.
I have seen the husbands’ experience
Where anger holds their manly evidence
Too hot to control their fisting prowess
A cowardly way to husbandly express.
I have seen the sheer foolishness in beauty
That robs off a woman’s intellectual quality
And the integrity in ‘’Iwalewa”
What then is beauty polished every hour?
I have seen beautiful Agbeke chew her husband
And dashing Abike throw the food with one hand
The noise of Orekelewa Aduke has woken me,
My standby alarm every early morning.
Truth is an elusive beast.
Veiled by the cloak of deceit.
Truth is a laser light.
Only found by those who seek.
Truth can cut one to the quick,
When square in the face it hits.
Truth a precision scalpel,
Surgeon tool that does the trick.
Severs bonds of hypocrisy.
Removes the blinders of hate.
Truth never arrives uninvited,
Thus, dull darkness of deception,
Eases into every ideology.
Feasting in minds of educated arrogant.
Flowing out from intellectual ignorant.
Excreting greed, graft, hate, and hypocrisy.
Truth never resides in the middle.
For it is always right of left,
Occasionally appears left of right.
Truth by its nature must choose sides.
For when it comes to wrong or right,
Truth in the middle cannot abide.
Light of truth the great surgeon.
Seek the surgeon he will set you free.
Blowing a kiss to you as
dissipation
gently overtakes
the rain, leaving
the inner works
of thunderstorms.
Inhaling and Exhaling
Intimacy from
Mother Earth.
Among the palm of ones
hand, the diminutive,
pulchritudinous,
and intellectual
Sunflower
waltzes dauntlessly
about the daystar.
A sight,
hence enthralling,
stimulates and
formulates a
meticulous remembrance,
as one blows a kiss to you.
Dedicated to Doreen Wright
What is this friendship we covet
Is it special is it right.
It doesn't need to be sexual.
Sometimes I prefer you when your Intellectual.
A game two or one can play.
Endless childish fun all day.
Watching butterflies flutter bye.
Caterpillars racing them onto the leaves.
Honey bees that don't want to sting.
They are too busy collecting nectar for their queen.
Ladybirds of different colours racing up stems.
Spiders on webs waiting for a friend.
Flies that get stuck in her trap.
She cuddles them and wraps them in a bag.
Walking by the slow flowing stream.
We come to the pond. And play with frog spawn.
The dragonfly on red wings .
Catches a damsel fly to eat.
The birds sing gaily in this secluded spot.
We open our hamper and begin our picnic.
A squirrel comes over to see what he can nick.
You laugh at his boldness and throw him some biscuit.
He takes his prize up a tree he was right to risk it.
Across the pond a heron stands forlorn.
Waiting in the shadows for a fish meal.
I watch you captivated you haven't seen one before.
You take out your camera and get ready to take the shot.
He hears the click and goes into the air.
Your still excited even though the picture is blurred.
You turn and kiss me and thank me for spending time with you.
Two friends out for the day in the afternoon sun.
No need to rush no need to run.
This is what friendship is, just a day of fun.
But all things end and this day will too.
But never this bond between me and you.
In the thicket forgotten of deeply anchored thoughts,
Where ideas nest, across time and tailored spaces,
There I stand, guardian of the undimmed realm, the archivist of the flame
That knows not extinguishing in the beating winds of history,
Guarding the pure light that does not fracture from darkness.
Shadow does not frighten me, in the tumultuous whirl of the ephemeral moment,
The virility of my pen is the bastion safe from political venom,
In my fortress of books, ideas, and eternally glimpsed dreams,
A candle of knowledge, a lighthouse piercing the fog of despair,
And my intellect, a fleet that can quench the thirst of the abyss.
I am the knight battling the windmills of forgetfulness and ignorance,
At war with the shadows that attempt to speak of present suppression,
A country does not parade its grandeur in the fleeting plays of political stages,
But in the echo it leaves through a waltz of creative genius in the world's libraries,
Through art, science, and the poetry whispered by blossoming briar circles.
A nation does not stretch into the arms of death when it is defeated,
Nor embraces the poison when lords change or thrones waver,
But on the wings of those who walked through the subtle circles of thought,
They leave an endless imprint of the dream in the springs of eternity,
Weaving its chronicles, over centuries and wisdom its people grow.
And I, amongst waves of misunderstanding and barriers of indifference,
Submerged in creations that speak in languages only the stars comprehend,
I traverse the fine line between present and dreaming eternity,
I build from words a wall that no terrestrial battle can crumble.
I watch how politics spins like an old mill in the fickle wind,
But I keep my distance, with my quill dipped in eternal ink,
Agony and ecstasy, in a wondrous dance of knowledge,
Never forgetting that the sunrise from my mind is the rebirth of the world.
Beneath my intellectual hoard, with its invincible nature,
I warm centuries, illuminate unfoldings, and cultivate hope,
For, regardless of the whirlwind that beats at my gate,
I am master of my counsel and the dream I embrace.
Politics may haunt the streets and squares,
But the eternal plays in the laboratories of my tranquil mind,
Where I, the architect of this human sanctuary, undefeated,
Weaving eternity with my intellect, remain.