Long Intone Poems
Long Intone Poems. Below are the most popular long Intone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intone poems by poem length and keyword.
Less any objection with the missus,
versus never experiencing living alone
well...yes during that rough patch,
(sans during early adolescence),
I existed in a bone
huff fied impenetrable cocoon,
and just maybe before
yours truly dies, a clone
can be created from
stem cells of this doggone
melon collie, whimpering
beastie boy finally revelling,
where destiny does enthrone
me rendering unfettered
with round the cluck nymph fone
mani yolk hen pecking, nagging,
and leaching... from blood sucking
vampire spouse foregone
as a "bad" dream worse
than getting Rhode
Island sized gallstone
removed subsequently
saving said as gemstone
whiling away hours, days, weeks...
chiseling away at my gravestone,
no matter yours truly will get cremated
ashes scattered, liberated, and dispersed
finally exempt from grindstone,
where thee spirit
of Math Hew Homophone
Scott Harris appeased
as powdery gray flecks
similar to limestone,
that swirl reintegrating with Earth,
this quirky I poetically intone,
and soundlessly utter from jawbone,
perhaps communicating more
clearly by knucklebone.
The frolic boughs of trees tremble,
butterfly-latticed leaves flutter
in the trail of summer squall,
where the feisty forest plays with foliage.
Don’t make your mind
a sprawling forest of forlornness.
In descending dismal dusk,
with the flickering shadows of flora,
let it sprint and play.
The ballerina crests of waves roll,
with pearls on pitching breakers
under storm-splashed sky,
with tempest tempo the sea dances.
Don’t make your mind
a still sea of sheet glass.
On the surge of upwelling tides
of the tumultuous times,
let it float and dance.
Perched niche of nest crashes,
the scared chicks fly away,
after the midnight storm
the lonely bird soars in sapphire sky.
Don’t make life a homeless bird
of broken wings.
In the threshold of splintered times
from the ruins of wrecked hope,
let it rise and fly.
Quartz shine of sands makes mirage,
frail face of cactus hope crumples
in the cradle of dwindling dunes,
the wasteland wind sings in the oasis.
Don’t make your heart
a desiccated cauldron of desert.
The lilting lyric of emerald oasis
in blinding surge of sandstorm,
let it intone and sing.
Be true to yourself,
remain what you are meant to be.
The mind will play and dance
with the shadow of despair,
the deserted heart will sing
the song of ecstasy in sanguine oasis.
The wrecked life will rise
from the debris of distress,
if you are what you are.
Oh sing yon violin upon your strings
and play harps and lutes melodious things
come sooth my soul and for our losses
and shatter pain upon our bed of mosses
Dost thou dare to stay our hearts entwined
do cast your light and airy within our mind
so also to our agony do make us blind
where in time we shall life kinder find
Do misdirect my thoughts upon a fairer course
lead me now away from paths remorse
fail not to impart joy and from its source
and to the courts whats odious I do divorce
and there expire bitterness and mans afflictions
unto the burial sites with their benedictions
the ends of tribulations on the morrow
as I have some aspersion to this sorrow
Come twist your ropes do wrap in harmony
the golden strand in archetypes that be
fluid in the cups elixir we do drink
to shelter from woe and misery we sink
Clasp the inner man intone your song
return to us the living among our throng
embrace the consolation and hold whats dear
for upon us all this place draws ever near
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Wind, your double essence is well-known.
Whispered summer breezes you exhale;
Then suddenly you turn. You surge and wail,
Expelling rage, you bluster or you moan.
Your brute relentless nature then is shown
For you become a cyclone, Hound of Hell,
Or show yourself a monsoon, squall, or gale.
Unquelled, a devil’s wrath with dust is sown.
As you intone, we’re stricken by your power.
Whipping wind, who thrashes us below,
You’re merciless until that final hour
Your vehemence ceases. Gust, I hate you so.
You scour Earth for those who next must cower.
Two-faced tempest, most indeed you BLOW!
For the NETTED by WORDS: HER SILVERED, TENDER WEBPoetry Contest
I used the theme found in "Wheeze of a Wind" which had been entered
by Nette in another of Cyndi MacMillan's contests:
Timeless Yet Contemporary, A Sonnet Thang
Note to Nette: My sonnet cannot hold a candle to yours. I think your contemporary one was better than my traditional one; however, I hope you can feel my anger about wind in it!! I just love how you did your modern sonnet for Cyndi!! BTW, I MISS you. Where ARE you anyway???
Living Truth
Ancient guides of venerated truth
Stumble through numb spiritual graveyards
Where truth casts its shadow in chiseled words,
A signature of affection,
On moss bathed alabaster stones that once
Gleamed in treasures of veracity,
Autographed insights of the ancient sages
Screams out the litany of wisdom
Then begs, like balm, the insomniac unconscious heart
To intone a resurrection,
A living trove of living verbs in action
Breaking from the bondage of a chrysalis redecorated
With raw promises to shake off stagnation,
Relight the lantern star of the eternal spring’s veracity
Springing into actions that rise from stone inertia
Insight’s revelation releases a new song of songs
Truth that lives anew –
That propels the quest of new a-ha’s
That plants new reasons for renewed actions
In the waiting heart embraced.
5-3-22
Contest: Our Truth
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
1st Place Our Truth
I've been musing lately about things that really make a home complete.
One thing for sure - a happy home is one with laughter and love replete!
'Twill be a place with affectionate parents who dearly love each other,
And blessed by a couple of kids - a little sister and her big brother!
A home ain't a home unless you have a faithful dog and inscrutable cat,
And a stoop on which to greet folks whereon lies a welcoming mat!
A grandfather clock to intone the inexorable march of time is needed,
And a fireplace with a cozy fire by which to reminisce unimpeded!
There'll be a library of classic tales with yellowed and dog-eared pages,
And a Bible that is read, having been handed down through the ages!
Displayed on the fireplace mantel will be pictures of folks from the past -
Folks from the family tree who set standards for honor unsurpassed!
There'll be a white picket fence and a trellis with climbing yellow roses,
And a huge front porch with a swing on which to enjoy pleasant dozes!
At the kitchen table, the family dines, discusses the day and grace is said.
Later the kids say nightly prayers before being tucked in their featherbed!
Marks to measure the kid's height mar the wall nigh the kitchen door.
Happy holidays and birthdays are celebrated that will add to family lore!
Though the dog and kids may create havoc as about the house they roam,
If I may quote Edgar Guest, "It takes a heap o' livin' to make a house a home!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Haunted Mansion – Beware!
Abandoned mansion cries in loud creaks and groans
From deep within the dark cellar ghostly moans
Attic lights flicker...then suddenly turn off
By unseen hands of haunted souls castoff.
Windows rattle, winds intone incantations
Of tangled webs to strangle all sensations
Hallways echo spectral chants as terror flows
Reeling rhythms - eerie haunted vertigo.
Deep in vaults dark plots of midnight roses grow
Thorny canes drip with poisons like black snow
Chalice filled with toxic brews from blighted petals
Touches lips in a toast of stinging nettles.
All doors and windows tightly locked and chained
Only unheard shrieking prayers still remain
Foreboding fears smothers like a phantom kiss
When screams free fall into a bottomless abyss
10-13-22
Contest: 12-16 Lines of Scary Halloween Rhyme
Sponsor: Tania Kitchen
Rhymes checked with www.rhymezone
It takes a while for corn flakes to turn mushy,
I brew more coffee
watch the sun opening the plastic blind
just by the power of its muscular light.
I’m jotting down a prayer.
The words are milky with no
sharp edges to scratch my gums.
Jesus, who often takes possession of my black lab,
sticks a wet nose into my crotch.
Thin pajama’s cannot withstand
a dogs wet nose for long.
Now it’s trying to sniff my backside
through the wicker seat of my chair
tail wagging.
‘Say something about the love
that passeth all understanding’
I hear a strangely canine voice intone
In the third person singular.
The dog sits now, looks at me intently
with deep round eyes.
The corn flakes are soggy already,
I dip a sugar coated spoon.
Sunlight rests upon a countertop
flexing and stretching
like the morning smile
of a sleepy weight-lifter
or maybe a good-hearted hooker.
The airplane's smoking tires kissed the landing strip at Dover.
The long flight bringing thirty brave men back home was over.
The nation mourns as one at the tragic loss of each precious life,
Who gave their all to rescue brothers caught up in terrible strife.
When the ramp is lowered, the Honor Guard will bear each coffin.
They know the drill well, since they have done this all too often.
Chaplains will intone quiet words of comfort and lead the last parade,
To honor each of them for laurels won for their righteous crusade.
They willingly placed national interests above their very own,
To ensure that our precious freedoms would ne'er be overthrown!
They performed magnificently with love, valor and dedication.
Alas, they won't parade or hear the acclaim of a grateful nation.
They will be borne to their final resting place in hallowed ground,
There, to sleep until the clarion call of Gabriel's bugle call will sound.
On that glorious morn He will present each with a regal crown,
Saying, "My dear son, you served Me and My people with great renown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Lyric sing it you’re so beautiful yet, beautiful you are you’re air, so fair;
Singing I am singing song I sing…
With words, you’re heard lyric you are my music and I am quick, to deduce this…
Singing I am singing song I sing…
And just what is your purpose strain you’re the reason that we sing ditties, melody, tune you’re my summertime, my June intone chant I croonSinging I am singing song I sing…
Lyric you’re so beautiful yet, beautiful you are you’re air, so fair
Singing I am singing song I sing…a short poem set of words you’re set to music so meant to be sung Lyric I am singing vocal music. a musical composition suggestive of a song my darling, Lyric which are beautiful words set to music that I sing.
12/27/19
For Sing It Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter |