Long Lament Poems
Long Lament Poems. Below are the most popular long Lament by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lament poems by poem length and keyword.
I am sunk deep
in the dark of this day,
peer out of a hollow
that holds the tribe's history
drawn in ochre on a rock wall.
Outside is a numb, frozen world
that yields little food. Animals
are scarce and I am kept alive
by stealth and making most
of the meager offerings that
fall to my spear.
I hate being here,
imprisoned in a poem, placed
in this icy wasteland of prehistory,
cold, abandoned in a pocket of time
by a poet sitting in a warm room
in the twenty-first century.
Note.
Winter Solstice will occur
on the the twenty first of June
for us southern hemisphere
tribes.
Pale, pink and alabaster now blanket the earth,
a covering of delicate velvet snow,
scattered under a labyrinth of darkened limbs,
visible by lantern lights and lunar glow.
With twilight eyes, watching them fall and sway,
the crisp flow of air, they writhe and flitter,
dancing to a haunting tune,
of a midnight played Zither.
A single blossom struggles, breaks free,
swaying upon the dark wind of night.
Watching it’s journey entranced,
until a breeze lifts it back into flight.
Gusts pick up and swirls a mass,
a tornado of pinks that hover over the floor.
Lost ones settle with siblings among the swelling crowd,
soon they will be withered, beauty no more,
They swirled and began to sink,
a beautiful, yet fleeting, memory made.
Strings lament with a twang in the night,
the song plucked for emotions to cascade.
This frail moment in time,
of fleeting beauty, shortly lived.
The beauty of one,
lost among the crowd,
blending in forever,
amongst what litters the ground.
Age, baby steps across the icy pond
scorpions tap-tap-tap the flesh
the sun hovers brittle and honest.
An unknown selects the spot
passages are drilled then gleaned
seasons tangle-miracles are imminent.
The line quivers, age dons a child's heart
silver thrash is coaxed into silence-
as memories flaunt their fractured crowns
...a wall, a vow, a flag encased in glass
the birth of birdsong-whispers of loves long dead.
A bird bleeds color along the shore
age thinks the truest smile
is the one performed alone.
Evening's grand candles commence
crooning a miracle's lament.
Only then does age re-enter the ice forest
leaving the pond alone but unforgotten.
SCENTS I LOVE
Jasmine! Jasmine! Jasmine!
Varieties of Jasmine:
All favorite of mine.
Most alluring the special kind
enlivening mind
is termed ‘JNUI’ in Bengali
Really
The Fragrance Queen.
to entwine
reminiscence of forgotten love,
exceptional charm of First Love.
Jasmine perfume
to resume
my romance of bygone days afresh.
Hypnotic, mystic
entrancing, exciting my olfactory cells
to tell remembrances associated.
Another gorgeous scent in glamour
brings back my emotive senses
spreading romantic aroma of my amour
is the sweet smell of Rose at variance
mesmerizing my dormant desired dreams.
I can never forget,
sometimes to lament,
sometimes to rejoice, as I recollect.
Attractive redolence of Gardenia recalls my Mom’s memory.
Again, Jasmine to remind
my Idol, Philosopher and Guide
My Dad:
who held same fascination for scent of ‘JNUI’.
Strong powerful lovely scent works on me
to rewind
long-lost days left behind.
03/24/21
Third Place
'My Favorite Scents
Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place
'All Yours ( Apr 5 ) contest by Brian Strand
She sneaks into town
In the middle of the night;
Sets up before daybreak.
Her colors blind the town square.
Her barkers have games set up before the crowd arrives.
Her fantastic rides take two tickets;
Most kids lament they only have ten.
Some get replenished by their parents.
Others do not.
She smiles as she hears the two-year olds
screeching with delight on her multi-painted ponies.
She gloats that the mommies and daddies are willing to
stay in line for an hour.
The joy she brings is unparalleled; her bosom swells
with the knowledge that her enthusiasm has turned yet
another small middle earth town upside down.
She knows the inhabitants all look forward to her hot,
salted pretzels and cotton candy and depend upon her every year.
There are bicycle parades, and floats to honor her arrival.
She lures them into her tents, where they see crazy, unexpected miracles.
These folk talk about her for a whole year, glorying in being
held upside down for what seemed like hours snapped tightly
in one of her two ha-ha terrifying roller coasters,
Expounding on tales gleaned from her bowels.
She sneaks out as quietly as she sneaked in.
Taking her joy and colors with her, hoping to
be back another year.
Written 12/02/2018 Contest: Early December 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
"The moment all this happens - it will then be a wonderful world"
~ The Poet~
The Moment:
a butterfly alights its cocoon,
the sun rendezvous with the moon
appears a congenial smile
rapture begins to beguile
a delight sparks a memory
it adorns earth, a crystal gemmary
lavender bliss permeates the air
succulent honeysuckle everywhere
tyrants cease to exist
dissention is covered with loving mist
in empathy a teardrop sorrowfully falls
for help the loneliest heart calls
whales have no need to lament
killing whales no longer an event
a cure is found
the deaf hear a sound
true love is sworn
luscious blueberries adorn
happiness is everyone’s duty.
all bestowed with beauty
a healthy baby is born
The rich are humble
The wise fail to stumble
God is pleased
all suffering is eased
all weapons melt
true contentment is felt
splendor isn’t just for some
we live to the beat of one drum
trivial tribulations fade
positive thoughts invade.
violence is negated
respect for all is appreciated
shattered hearts mend
pure doctrine He will send
generosity becomes law
there’s kindness evermore
endeavor always reaps reward
our Lord we elevate toward
when all fears subside
understanding is nationwide
peace resumes her sway
all wars cease come what may
The moment these words can truly be unfurled:
Then we can say What a wonderful world.
as this merciless moonrise
melts upon the aching ocean ,
meet me in miridical eagle rivers ~
O narcissistic narrator
of heartless healers,
as you enchant me
with wild Valkyrie eyes,
veiled with venom and vines …
this portrait of world ~
painted with punishment,
is a physical panorama,
flickering without
pixels of patience,
a palindrome of pain
no scent can ever satiate;
as I lean on the bed,
burning with brutal beliefs
perfumed with painkiller blush
and poisoned starlight ~
I want those
trespassing nightmares
to taste the wrath ~
the soul of Satan
in angel-feathered flesh,
touch the pulse of
depressed dragons
~ in pearls of damage ~
if only the hyper-tensed ~
haptic heartbeat
of my soulless stylus
could trace the
submerged sighs ~
in stygian Seroflo seas;
but my life remains
the twin of death,
so, let me dream, demonic dusk ~
signed with serpent sparkles
on my sweet sunset scales,
as I yearn for aconite clouds
to rain and rehabilitate
I still remember
the date when
doom tore my angel wings,
you labelled me
a menace
with metal lips,
transfused my truth
with twilight’s tachycardia;
I was never diagnosed
by diabolical diseases,
but your deceptions …
a patient,
injected with ill-intuitive
paranoia,
the syringe was never
stirred with steroids,
but the blood-tied feud
of spiteful spirit-hunters.
hear me, I won’t surrender;
I will never be tamed and taken,
O tracheal massacre ~
crush me with cold calm,
but my ribs will remain
a wildflower requiem ~
for lungs that slumber
within ambrosial echoes
of asthmatic endlessness ...
Lord Poseidon ~
of poetic seas,
rescue me from the mayhem
of this helpless mermaid,
be the medicine for the
blackmagic karma ~
that I cease to forget;
tonight, I lament to escape these
lands of loneliness,
be plucked from the
orbs of purple-gold orchids ~
the grave of insensitive ghosts
because ~
I am better away,
buried beneath
blurred benevolence ~
of soul's bliss ,
bleeding butterfly blues
~ b r e a t h l e s s ~...
When in my heart I feel a shade
And I see that darkness blend into a grey.
When a soul corrupts from spite and hate
When all they are is led astray, one kind act.
May be our tomorrow's sorrows saved.
As our innocent suffer,
and our privileged feel blessed.
Whats there to show
For every breath we invest?
In the clothes and the cars,
and the goods that we make.
We watch rich men laugh
As they skip to the bank.
For what evil lives in this cruel world
Does so in the grey.
It lies not in the poor families shambled house,
or the homeless man sleeping in the cold night.
Not even the criminal who repented for his mistakes.
If what is good and true is what they embrace.
Where wealthy men sit and lament in fine clothing
But to the poor? He says "No sir not one cent more!"
"To hell with the jesus crap, I paid for these church walls!"
"I made my own fortune, poor people should too"
"Everything I did is what you could do too!"
Then he walks right through the house of god's doors.
He smiles and shakes hands with our daughters and sons
Where if you looked deep in his heart
You would tell them to run.
What lies in his soul is what tears us apart
There is such where all demons hide,
Where daylight flees a pale winter sun,
And the blood moon rises
Above a withered sacred oak,
Where legions march
The rivers run with blood
The houses empty
No fires in those hearths
and all the wealthy man's souls,
sit beside him on the throne.
Form:
What makes you stumble man?
I guess you'll never know.
Wherein lies your hunger man?
As your desperation starts to show.
Cause it can't thunder before the lightening strikes.
It won't rain without a cloud.
Too afraid to keep on holding on.
But you dare not let it out.
You're all alone
. . .
Covered up by people.
In the midst of the storm . . .
Is the only peace you've ever known.
What makes you stumble man?
Well I guess you know by now?
You'll never pick that fruit
If you haven't pushed a plow.
Cause it can't thunder before the lightening strikes.
It won't rain without a cloud.
Too afraid to keep on holding on.
But you dare not let it out.
You're all alone . . .
Covered up by people.
In the midst of the storm . . .
Is the only peace you've ever known.
But you remember that day
And you remember what you saw.
And you remember that face
Even when your memories turn to fog.
Cause it can't thunder before the lightening strikes.
It won't rain without a cloud.
Too afraid to keep on holding on
But you dare not let it out
You're all alone . . .
Covered up by people
In the midst of the storm . . .
Is the only peace you've ever known
And you're so so far from home
Praise, a chronic disease
Ruins humanity
Increases sugar in blood
Spreads intoxicants in artery
Hangs a curtain before eyes
Hides truth.
Mind dips in self-enchanting
Always seeks false praising words
Credits
Clappings
Honours
Rewards
All treasures of materialistic world !
Mind guides the human
Mind commands the soul
Instigated by mind, human
Swims in the whirlpool of illusion
Hankers after pride and prejudice,
The album of achievement fattens day by day.
Praise fascinates mind
Increases the hunger of self-publicity
Ear always eager to hear
Rejoicing in the self, self-conceit grows
Touches the sky.
Mind misleads human
Wants sensual pleasure
Eyes roam over pages of newspapers
Magazines, the screens of News Channels
To see photos of praises
To hear words of self-illusion
Praise engages brain in his workshop
Deposits sheets of self-credit
Directly or indirectly, shamelessly speaks aloud
“I am the monarch of all I survey”
Thinks: he is almighty, Omniscient
Within him,
In the inner cell hibernates his soul
All alone
Sniffs the smell of perishing body
Not ready to tolerate false praises
In each unfavorable talk
Faces jealousy, conspiracy.
Soul whispers: I’m living dead
If you die, die unknown
Nobody would talk about it
Nobody would lament for you !