Long Italian sonnet Poems
Long Italian sonnet Poems. Below are the most popular long Italian sonnet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Italian sonnet poems by poem length and keyword.
CHRONICLES OF OUR NATIONS SURMOUNTABLE PALAVA
Our currency mirrors my area
and the state of our beloved Nigeria;
Worthless. Hopeless but a resurgent oneness.
The government parastatals are clueless,
But it's still our nation, more or less.
Despite holding so much promises
and natural resources,
our government offices
are managed by corrupt forces
already carrying generational curses.
Currency summation doesn't give grand equation,
rags of time sneers our 'notes into liquidation.
Just as the 100 naira equals 2 gala,
our currency is dwarfed by the dollar,
We don tire fo all the kuru kere & kasala
wey, for this country, don cause plenty wahala.
But here we stand in hope like a faithful lover,
singing the Chronicles of our nation's surmountable palava.
#OnTheSpotPoetry #InspiredByTheImage #HundredNairaEqualsTwoGala #WorthlessNaira
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}.
Copyright© Today, right now, February 22nd, 2021.
Face darkened in smear of murky disdain
You walked on slimy soil of cardinal sin
Life trampled by defiant footsteps within
At journey’s end you’d suffer the pain
Take repentant vow you’d always refrain
Breaking tormented mind to slivers thin
With clean soul new journey you’d begin
You’d never tread on black quicksand again.
The promise ignites within a candle light
The conscience lost in the dark you’d find
Guiding you out of remorse and the blight
Scene of dirty road would leave the mind
A star in dark sky life would shine bright
Soul would shield candle light in the wind.
Written : January 9, 2018.
December 13, 2021
Contest : Sonnet's Salutation
Sponsor : William Kekaula
Just how long does a steaming lobster sob?
How terribly do boiling limbs and guts
burn? Like a million simultaneous cuts?
When does its sweltering heart cease to throb?
On who’s authority do humans rob
that creature of its life? Have we the rights?
—the rights to cook a living being? Nights,
(countless), have I questioned this brutish job.—
Yet, even still, I meet no day when not
a hungry shopper comes to claim a kill.
And for the taste of murdered, smoldered meat,
—(we sear our ethics inside that same pot)—
they beg me: “I can’t bear do it, but will
you?”. — — I’m sorry, truly, crustacean…”treat”.
Cecropia, transported through the night
on satin wings lined white in their design,
hovers over innocence by moon’s shine.
A fragrant bloom has stopped him in his flight,
and on a petal he prepares to light.
He ceases fluttering so as to dine
on that sweet nectar of his valentine.
And I alone am witness to this sight.
The moth and orchid's union gladdens me
as wayside, I am frozen where I stand,
for what I've found, though simple it may be,
has purpose and is nothing short of grand.
Now captured by the beauty that I see,
I let my net slip gently from my hand.
For Brian Strand's "Any Poem of 2011" Contest
a broken heart awaits its somber fate
the hands of time have made it beat too weak
to find the pulse of love it used to seek
it fades within a burdened soul abate
then hides the key that frees the chains of weight
within a soul where darkness seems to peak
it cannot beat in harmony nor speak
without the stroke of time to guide its gait
a gallant soul i give this gift to you
break free these chains that weigh this heart of mine
awake from dreams a restless soul to see
a heart that beats an endless pulse anew
and sees again how fate and love entwine
when souls in love through time find ways to be
January 1 2020
Open me first poetry contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
WHEN NERVES AND PULSE CONGEST
Tender are the days brushed with thoughts of light
when yesterday rolling, rolling are the tears...
Jagged nerves and pulse congest in colliding repair,
they... rise to roar beams and rays of medley grace.
Glitters of gold and red cartwheel slow on my face,
I, before filthy shades of earth stand like a knight
to whoever dares, forgetting crime as I fight!
Even to ember flames of days, I... brave to step and chase
for if deep the earths' steep it births you: "my sunshine",
I keep forth to reap a mirth: me being with you.
Black as coal creep, it rebirth night that seeps the signs
but later sun peeps, its smile girths our blues.
To a new life, new day, I faithfully consign
with burning daylight as my sweep leap to have you...
__________________________________________________
***Sponsor rob carmack
Contest Name Screwed IV
~~5th Place~~
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
11:02 pm. April 24, 2015
Beguiling spring, how bold your arrogance
You shameless season painted in conceit
Parading up and down each city street
O'er hill, through dale, you flaunt your elegance
Each tree, each flower, bathed in decadence
Each gale, each breeze, your moods so indiscreet
Each dawn you send your birdsong out to greet
A vain display of your benevolence
And yet each year we welcome your return
With song and poem, we celebrate your style
We rush to be the first to photograph
A daffodil, a bud, a waking fern
You always make that winter wait worthwhile
On every heart you leave your autograph.
Daniel Turner
Wistful shades of light in orange and gold
Pouring out heaven’s great plans on still limbs
Breathing calm through the hills, like cherubims
Brushing souls with cascades of light untold
With Autumn’s twilight comes the early cold
Verses dance on soft skies like gentle hymns
Loitering o’er grey, wistful clouds, grief dims
Wrens and robins lift beaks, the air to scold
Old souls who love rustling woods, heed God’s voice
Listening for the calm of warm solace
Who lives in the song, moving through forests
O’er mountains, through the valleys, souls rejoice
With autumn’s outburst, splendor is flawless
Fall, juicy spice of gifted folklorists.
“Lights out,” his mother told him tenderly
each evening when her bedtime tale was read,
and she had knelt to gently kiss his head.
What comfort given with such constancy!
And sometimes when his room seemed shadowy,
he’d call out to her in his childish dread.
Then Mama came and words of comfort said,
“I’m here for you. You’re not in jeopardy.”
Before he was a man, she passed away -
that mother who had given him much love.
A loving spouse and dad and grandpa too
was he until his light went out one day!
His spirit rose to a new light above;
He heard his mama’s words: “I’m here for you.”
A(nother) (Sh*tty) Sonnet
Cute girl who works the local liquor store
counter, I wonder sometimes how I strike
you.—am I happy in your eyes?—do you like
to speak, when daily, as a steady chore,
I stroll onto your heavenly sales floor?
(You said it was another day (yes fake)
‘in paradise’, in answer to my joke.—
—and then I left with my usual four.).
Reality looks (more (something)) like this:
biting my nails until they burn like hell,
eating my nervous thoughts,—binging and purging
on romance,—and on a deathly scourging
of emotional detachment. O’, belle,
there’s nothing more I miss than someone‘s kiss.