Long Ironclad Poems
Long Ironclad Poems. Below are the most popular long Ironclad by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ironclad poems by poem length and keyword.
That gilded cage
with its…
heavy quilted,
ironclad armour
is Home
to her soul
She's been busy
racking up layers
while her soul burrows
deeper
and deeper
yielding to the cage's allure
as it whirls through
timeless wormholes
birthed by life's orbit
Her soul carries on
swimming through
Sands of eternity
Oblivious
to the obvious realities
that cage is a Shield
though at times
it obscures the view
in its cleft, a haven is found
by a soul
yearning for silence
and nursing a craving
for stillness
This chest feels empty at times
the emptiness speak volumes
it’s the kind
that never ever lets up
it’s loudly echoed
by the heart's throb
as it obediently irrigates a life
a duty
that will not be deprived
This prison is a Safe house
entry is denied to most
it’s limited to a selected few
and that
after meticulous scrutiny
exits are but a fantasy
and thus glisten
with the appeal
of the unattainable
One fateful day
her soul
in a trance
teleported into an abyss
of quickened desire
where a glimmer
of unfounded hope
sparked a wisp of courage
Her soul rose
to the occasion
and offered its fears
for a sacramental sacrifice
as its terrors rose
to the surface, she
cradled it in her arms
to soothe it
with gentle crooning
Her song a mantra of rebirth
Of a buried seed
that in time sprouts
and shoots past its confines
When it finally matures,
it will sow it’s seed
to the wind
while its fluff takes to the skies
and beyond
its roots will nourish
the womb of the mother
Her lullaby purified the sacrifice
as darkness fell
upon the cage
turning it into a cozy
cocoon…
While her soul
hibernated
She
in patience
stood sentinel
armed with love
to keep the terrors at bay
as nature sows it’s wild oats
This heart is a Fortress
that serves her soul
while it mans the post
It will remain
on ice
When the world around you disappoints…when on our leaders you begin to sour
If you want to change your attitude…at least for the moment…attend a baby shower.
That’s exactly what we did yesterday…and it was a wonderful place to be
as we prepared to welcome our great-granddaughter
into our diverse extended family.
It’s amazing how before she’s even born…before her parents take her for a test drive
before we’ve even met her…she’s already changed our lives.
From the moment we heard the news of this life Trista and Damien were creating
it’s astonishing how our lives have changed…as we sit on the sidelines…waiting
All the happiness she’s brought into our lives…all the joy into the world
while still inside her mothers womb…before her life’s unfurled.
Because when a woman is about to have a baby…life changes…
this truth is ironclad…
as she immediately becomes a mother and her husband becomes a dad.
From here there is a domino effect of changes…one day their baby will see
as people of all ages become grandparents, nieces, nephews…uncles, aunts
or great-grandparents like Deborah and me.
As I watched all the people at the shower…and saw their smiles
I thought…this is really sweet…
how everyone has already fallen in love…with someone we’ve yet to meet.
All these people wishing Trista and Damien well…
making it abundantly clear
there is a loving family waiting patiently….for their daughter to appear.
Who have seen the seed of a daughter begin to grow
and now….happily anticipate the flower…
who came together to celebrate…at a family baby shower.
Where love, friendship, family, and caring for one another….
were in the room for all to see….
Where for a moment our world was exactly the way
we hope the world outside that room will be.
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they face whirlwind snowfall, freezing ice,
while others brazenly squirm,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
of this genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
velvet moon worlds sidereal captured,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
Inferiority Complex As A Kid And Adult!
I recall father, (now behold
at near ninety years old - maintains stronghold
on life, cuz born of sturdy mettle -
rumor claims bullion – ne'er did buckle nar fold
meaning bull + lion rolled
together and processed
April 9th, nineteen twenty nine),
fortune teller foretold
envious longevity, perhaps
just shy of eternity
older than anyone polled
occasionally got a bit
short tempered as patriarch
( ~6'2” ~ 200 lbs at prime)
over any five members of Harris household
with me, and timid, meek,
and fawning did scold,
and mother, (who passed away
after completing seventy plus orbits, all told,
sans November 13th, nineteen thirty five),
no matter both parents (more mom)
did abhor applying stronghold
tactics vis a vis corporal punishment,
though the late Harriet Harris, not so gold
din as totally carefree disciplinarian
confessed many moons ex post facto lost hold
of her appreciable tolerance,
than quickly crumbled like broken scaffold
after she spanked this monkey upon bony posterior
(an endearment, but NOT spanking
ever since mama did withhold
though kept pet name, which
ideally suited me as a little boy),
both her hands went limp and cold
apology immediately iterated,
cuz she felt mortified, and sold
reparation with self restraint
against further instances tubby brazenly bold
possibly contributed,
fostered, and inculcated mold
ding mine shy characteristic.
Me, this twangy nasal kid
(courtesy of split uvula we did
discover rather a speech pathologist
six grade minor congenital defect
i.e., submucous cleft palate), aforesaid
I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid
tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
this vulnerability compounded amid
my undersized and socially withdrawn demeanor
whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid!
Perdition Be Damned!
Body electric zapped
lower gastrointestinal tract
wracked with wretchedness
pitted, rocked, and tortured
severe muscle spasms cramp
deathly hallowed deliverance
beseech divine creator to exorcise relief
any panacea trumpeted vetoed
pestilential nausea diarrhea
wreaks relentless havoc
horrid ordeal twists insides
lack strength to live
breathing a laborious effort
bedrest temporarily alleviates
generally healthy ironclad junket
weatherbeaten rickety ship of state
restorative sought trouncing unwell
corporeal self against torture
assailing, castrating,
and drubbing existence
avocations ordinarily promulgating
resplendent joie de vivre
squelched, scotched, and sabotaged,
courtesy minuscule mailer daemons
emotions unlikely culprit,
though times gone by anxiety
tindered, pitched, and kindled
abominable irritable bowel syndrome
prescription medication tempered
badgering, crippling, and debilitating
panic attacks plagued this primate
manifesting feeble endeavor
to experience poignant satiation,
asper simple pleasures nonexotic
endeavors merely passively living
as one organic carbon based
human being finding fulfillment
meditating, reading, and writing,
now fleeced, deprived, and blitzed
suspicious disagreeable provender
perhaps lactose intolerance
after enjoying pizza birthday
fours days prior
celebrating chronological centenary,
sans one frail resident here,
Highland Manor Apartments
suddenly, I feel chill o' rigor mortis!
Think of us oft, when you travel afar,
On orders protecting, lives we enjoy;
You and your pals, family superstars,
We miss you every time, you must deploy.
And while you’re away, the kids will move on,
School, sports, church—and nightly prayers for their Dad;
Strong daily living; a life marathon,
Until your return, our love ironclad.
Many folks benefit from your good will,
They honor volunteer service no doubt;
And when you return, back to the sawmill,
Our own return to normal, comes about.
Thank you. We love you. You are our hero.
Our resistance to your service—zero!
August 17, 2018
The best way to get in touch with who we are…
with our true self…with where our true identity lies
would be as often as we can…to simply close our eyes.
Closing our eyes is easy…in fact it’s the best way
to make a wish, to think, to hope, to dream…to kiss…to pray.
In the darkness of our souls…is where our wisdom does impart
there within the silence is where we listen to our heart.
If we close our eyes before we meet other people
before a relationship can begin
we react to what we feel not how they look or the color of their skin.
When we close our eyes….in our heart we know this to be ironclad…
that any kind of slavery
always was,
always is
and always will be bad.
When we close our eyes we know human rights should not have to be won
they should be universal and apply to everyone.
When we close our eyes we know everyone should receive the same education
no matter who, how, when or where….
We know that no one should go hungry and we know everyone needs care.
In fact when you stop to think about it…it’s ironic but it’s true…
when we close our eyes we can clearly see what it is we need to do.
Which makes me wonder: would this world be a little better
would it be more compassionate and wise
If its people every now and then…took the time to close their eyes.
And would we all be a little kinder…all us women…all us men….
If we followed what our heart is telling us…
when we open them again?
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they paint sound and city pastel,
never at a loss for inspiration,
weather neither bar nor barrier,
in the face of whirlwind snowfall,
freezing ice, torrential downpour,
within themselves, he, she, they plod on,
hardship is adopted, never cast aside,
while others brazenly squirm,
wallow in uproarious denial,
wilt before the slightest storm,
taking flight in arid comfort zone,
shelter is their first convenient port,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
alert does not begin an ample portrait,
of this wilful dwindling genus,
genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
they capture worlds sidereal,
under velvet moon imagining bespoke,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
how magical their canny weave lexicon,
for us timid souls to relish evermore,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
vicarious the kismet, excitement from afar,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
The Momentous Day
Kevin Davis 2024
They’d talked for weeks and planned it all, Prepared for this momentous day. Their gear was stacked with soldier’s pride; each item placed the proper way.
They’d mapped the angles of each step, convinced their scheme was ironclad. Their boasts to friends had sealed their fate— Today they’d prove how brave they were.
At dawn they slipped into the yard, The grass still wet with silver dew. They tiptoed past the puddled dips like veterans marching two by two.
A crowd had gathered—neighbors, kids— Some cheering loud, some smirking low. The boys called out for quiet air; The world obeyed and hushed its glow.
Beneath the oak, their treasure lay: Crackers, rope, a weathered crate. From here they’d rise to heights unknown, to claim the title “truly great.”
A coin was flipped. The winner stepped onto the crate with steady pride. “Like Armstrong,” he declared, “we climb for all who dare to dream this high.”
He grabbed a branch and hauled himself onto the limb with trembling might. He looped the rope, let down the end— His brother rose into the light.
At last, they perched on higher limbs, two kings surveying all below. The world seemed small, the breeze seemed grand, their hearts beat fast with quiet glow.
But through the mist a sound cut sharp— A voice no child could misinterpret. They scrambled down, reclaimed their stash, Adventure ending, pride deserted.
Their mother’s cry split through the yard, A thunderbolt of pure distress: “Get out of that tree before you break your necks— And wait till your father hears about this!”
Artfully dodging explosive solutions
pretending shackles restrained prisoner
lobbed pseudo Molotov cocktails
kindly, loosely, and mutinously linkedin
liberal short (make believe) chain
leashed faux abysmal isolated confinement
former courtly poet,
who consumed prison fare
equalling bread and thin gruel
poetical, quizzical, and rational thinking
wrought eventual gladness!
Meanwhile elsewhere within
another complex edifice
Stormy (Daniels) reign
came and went
accompanying barren
cruel don, trumpeting
issuing expansion fiat
wielding, gesticulating, brandishing...
ironclad golf club spouting art of the deal,
whereby might versus right
simultaneously Putin on the ritz
song and dance routine
crooning Ivana mock up Earth,
especially figurative roasting statesman christened
Elijah Cummings, an American politician
and civil rights advocate who served
in United States House of Representatives
for Maryland's 7th congressional district
from 1996 until his death in 2019.
That oversized ego freezer
with pouffed hair,
who shall not be named
made abominable destiny manifest
regarding eminent domain
dominion, he forcibly
relocated natives to Cajun shelters
charging them admission fees
manumission granted serving
white supremacist conveniently optioning
kids as scapegoats
re: Deferred Action for
Childhood Arrivals (DACA)
labor away migrants
grunts passive pluperfect targets
no matter forbears indigenous
to America unfortunately
been man-date to bite bullet
within badlands of El Paso
meanwhile oblivious hermit aging
barnacle encrusted manacles
absorbing cumulative dampness
no longer granting resistance
to life nor limb
timely manumission lovely bones restored
swallowed potion frothing colorful brew
contrived exquisite firearms.
Ah redeemed character
(any resemblance between
initially mentioned unfortunate soul
and living persons purely coincidental)
mentioned at outset of poem
broached out Alcatraz replica
free and clear fresh air revived
fifty shades of gray
immediately sieged moment
weakly hollered carpe diem
elixir imbued immunity
against taken hostage at gunpoint
freedmen impressed into service
while waved magic wand
whereby enslaved women
retaliated hashtagged misogynistic
took appropriate revenge
as apprenticed warrioresses!