Long Laments Poems
Long Laments Poems. Below are the most popular long Laments by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Laments poems by poem length and keyword.
I am going to attend a journey of empowerment he told us all.
We felt it was a story, for he liked to tell a story loud and tall.
He rarely followed through, and his confidence was terribly low.
When I asked him later about the journey, he said he did not go.
I felt sad for him, for if there was ever a child who needed a lift
This journey of empowerment would have been a special gift.
He never got empowered, his mother laments many a day.
I know her well, so realize her attitude has gotten in his way.
She cannot cut him loose. She is as controlling as a summer storm.
His life was lived in loneliness, and his bed was never shared or warm.
*Image of A Boy and A Tree by Google
Harmony
Serendipitous, as
fresh fair's an occasion,
makes way o'er a nexus,
constant blue persuasion.
Callow regrets he sheathed,
confused youth still laments,
nightmarish surplus seethed,
raw noggin tossed events.
Sense calm is well centered,
looped in isolation,
patience and peace mentored,
promising supplication.
Warmth sorts duality,
polished snow layered sheets,
focused mentality,
boy drifts from noisy streets.
Yield revelations of,
abstracts issued on white,
expressed just like a dove,
drafts humbly in moons light.
Words scripted in the air,
sending his world away,
harmonies everywhere,
idyllic solved melee.
New sidekick faves a scene,
as nothing can still be,
part of their everything,
... a seed plants by a tree.
2021 September 05
*2nd Place*
''H'' Contest, New or Old Poems
~~Constance La France: Judged 2021 September 08
She wishes she can buy me presents,
But all I need is her precious presence.
She always shows me her true essence,
She lives her life without laments.
She never wishes she were different,
But I know she is simply so authentic.
Oh how I love all the time we so far spent.
Every moment in her room feels like magic.
She and I met after the summer,
She came into my life like a zephyr.
I always tell her I promise her
My love for her will never wither.
She's my goddess, princess, poetess,
So I'll gladly be her god, prince, poet.
We'll find our way, find our palace.
So I'll do my best to lead our duet.
She wishes she can buy me presents,
But truth is she herself is all I ever wanted.
My only wish is it is never me she resents,
'Cause she is everything I ever needed.
Those shrunken grey turrets throw
Their distraught shadows to the wind;
And in the grey twilight of ancient
Beinn Chìochan...
Hear you the droning sounds of
Muted pipes retreating far back and
Away.
Albert heaves upon the old grey
cairn;
When woken from his immortal sleep,
Laments beside the darkening waters
For that which, despite all its
Eternal majesty...
He knows can but never come again.
Over grey skies, glowering like the
Grey dawning,
Spanned the rainbow to briefly flicker
Before the remaining day;
But with the grey night will come the
Weeping...
And London Bridge, reduced to nought
But Her, laid finally down.
I do not like to see my face floating
At the foot of a ewer,
nor in drops of water, nor in the glassy eye
of a slaughtered goat.
I am beautiful, but water and cloudless gems
distort, they are torturers of disfigurement.
Since I saw my reflected beauty
I have been unable to mirror that perfection.
I have ardently endeavored
to emblazon the beacon of that first time,
when I, suffused in beams of crystalline air,
beheld my countenance clear
yet now I am caught, caulked, and diked
forever dogged by a stark magicking
from ever parading that delicate radiance,
that inaugural art of my gift,
my exquisite features.
Yet ever my mind’s eye returns
to that translucent and timeless time
that empyreal morn, so fine and fair
where I beheld what I thought was there
and believed upon it.
Filched Physiognomy - Mine!
Absolute zero escape
velocity guts dance
sing days (contra and square),
cuz metabolic full abundance
abdominal adipose tissue acceptance
not in accordance
with light as a feather
miss lost acquaintance
the boy within forced admittance
as sure man tanks of fat did advance
shotgun marriage demanded allegiance
to pledge lifetime alliance
no room for allowance
crushing lightness of being ambiance
nor allies to help me combat
battle fatigue require
ring superman endurance
to muster strength
to stand erect else ambulance
will whisk away husky
embarrassing appearance
loose fitting clothing
jelly roll appurtenance
overnight digital readout,
asper body mass index
scaled quick ascendance,
thus when showering,
I look askance
fearing bulging balloon
will necessitate assistance
else... diet of worms
as only assurance
safeguarding body electric
against hecklers at open casket
no matter, a small perchance
crowd in attendance
yea... eventual cremation
after life only fat chance
to alleviate present circumstance
heavy matter fails security clearance
the price for astute cognizance
weak willpower alighting countenance
esse pie ying sweet treats
now measures taken to counterbalance
to fight temptation and dalliance
overruling feasting craving delectation
to restore trim deliverance
love handles around equator
no magician can render disappearance
yes the discontinuance
of just dessert must maintain distance
without being weighed
down with disturbance
by heaviest haunch
ain't no elegance
lugging extra encumbrance
when throughout my early life,
skinny, yet able to steel glance
mirrored reflection now grievance,
where wistful memory
ha...ironic insouciance
more so than
today finds intolerance,
thus woebegone issuance
thorn in muss hide
to experience jubilance
hmm...maybe a strong
arm can lance
excess flab quite a nuisance
to defy gravity, why penance
sans unsightly paunch
yours truly laments skin
tight fit, thus petulance
lame excuse unwanted protuberance
necessitates dedicated pursuance
recollection of washboard
abdomen impossible, yes
nothing accomplished by remonstrance!
Why, I am pretty sure that this world is left not to its own
I am pretty sure that, on it, through subtle means, its savior roams
As an avatar, a version of the divine, and that,
On the world's many alleys, on its pathways, he walks his due
And like us, he goes through the whims of his fate!
Pray, his aim in doing so, remains solely to himself known
But, if I may say, it is merely to gather, from this world
Notes and information
Which he shall transmit to the Great Lord of all,
The one known by all those names given to Him by humankind
But being, in the very end, one same in essence!
Pray, the avatar of the divine treads on,
Carries the burden of his own existence
Cries and laments at his own miseries as well as
That of the whole world
And has, on his soul, everything inscribed
So much that when he shall be back to where he belongs
The Great Lord of all shall merely read
And take the right decision as to what is to be done with
Earth and its mundane existential reality!
Why, if I could, I would have tried my best
To find him, to recognize him among the many
To help him in his task
To give him the love that he requires even
And to fly, with him, soul-entwined, towards the abode
Of bliss and magnificence!
Pray, world, be not trodden under your burden
Your savior, the avatar of the divine
Sees, and feels
You shall be taken care of
Do worry not!
After all, such is what the skies do whisper to me
Each time I look up at them
While trying to find answers to my meaning here
Yes, do worry not
Someday, I shall meet him, the great manifested soul
I shall meet him and I shall urge him to cure you!
howling black wolves complain to new moon,
of devastation wrought by creatures!
different from rest in size and shape,
walk on two legs, strange hairless features!
in packs behind rigid barriers,
cunning to modulate world to needs,
the rivers run dark under their feet,
trees have perished to nourish their seeds!
clouds now migrate away to the south,
it thunders and rains where once desert,
vast oceans expand as glaciers melt,
cold death now haunts where once birds would nest.
hunt us down, say are born of devil,
spare not a thought for nature’s reasons,
we hunt when hungry, the weak and lame,
but they kill for game in all seasons!
fire horrors ravage homely woods,
cuckoo laments morning with its lore,
big herds that walked now dress their rooms,
world is wounded, earth is bleeding sore!
Horror! Horror! we cry to the moon,
our laments tear down the dark silence,
ruled by these creatures with hearts of stone,
they are destructive sans repentance!
we fear not ghosts that lurk in the dark,
nor dripping blood from a sharpened steel,
greater horror lurks where these things haunt,
a pestilence that rocks nature’s keel!
Written 3/May/2021
Funom Makama sponsored
Horror poetry contest
9 syllables each line-
lines2 and 4 rhyme in all quatrains!
POTD 05/05/2021
A cold brittle Moon runs singularly in a shaded sky.
With ghostly cloud galleons a full sail
In Deep Seas of ebony, indigo divinity.
All alone, full of frost…
The bitter chill of Rivers flow
crystal Moonbeams glow
rain into ultraviolet souls
To navigate seasons of ebony & indigo
where a crystalline satellite flees alone
While lost Children roam in
Rooms of frozen Moon glow…
That carve bare bars on wooden Floors.
Of old fears that are hidden in ivory Tears.
As cold wraiths frolic and play
In the endless night of Ebony & indigo.
Thin wispy clouds, translucent galleons, fly
High into righteous suffering
Buried in newborn cries of nightmares
Bitter is the lunatic's rage
Pouring into memories desolate echelons.
Sliver satellites sail sterile
dreams of mornings light
in Lucifers brilliant shimmers.
To the end of nights endless restless laments
Of ancient voices howling
Raging in ultraviolet & aquamarine.
In a lonely garden is a shrine
where upon a rough hewn stone is writ:
“GOD IS LOVE.”
The devoted supplicants make wail,
water the flowers, feed with crumbs
the sacramental dove.
A priest, decrepit, feeds the holy fire,
rakes the embers of the holy hearth.
Heaven is grey above.
Daily he laments in doleful orison,
unbinds the holy scroll and reads:
“Thou shalt not kill.”
His sentence is short and simple,
without exceptions and parentheses,
declaring God’s will.
though many about have forsaken
Love’s fane, have fallen prostrate
before a god of ill.
And this god has three faces,
one wreathed in pleasure’s smiles,
when the cup is full.,
a brazen face of terror
wrought in hatred’ fire,
And a skull.