Long Lecture Poems
Long Lecture Poems. Below are the most popular long Lecture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lecture poems by poem length and keyword.
Sound inimitable; breath un-limitable music to be played'
Would emerge at some stage..Light in different forms by
The Word was borne..Above the darkest deeps..Of which
We know not of height; nor depth teach.! To the sun you often
Sing..Add silver to the Luna light that brings; reflection of You and the sun so bright as you lighten lives' and the earth
Delights! In the smooth of your hands, from granduer that
Stands, all time can offer, is a highlight of plight..To each
Of us yet (I own no dead fet'e) i rejoice in His telling in richness
Each state' of the nations; every change of the world of the
Universe each turn, living water in abundance, that He pours
As He wills.' He sets up kings and emperors, and causes their fall
He's invisible He's invincible (yet appears how such will thrall.!) He is the
Heartbeat of eternity..Yet often sidlined for all that.' There are those
Who seem to doubt Him? Well His existence.' And such.? Who am I
To lecture? I must only impart; what has been' that which can be?
Asertained! no conjecture ! (OF SUCH I WILL SHOUT!!) I'll not be guilty
Of denial, though I am no perfect man.' Yet he counts me in His host
Another star He'd began, another sand grain? That he's numbered
He knows its very place.' Let there be mercy Lord..Have mercy; upon this
Fractured human race.!
Oppressed is he, a coward in his house,
A cringing serf, to the despotic spouse!
Without a voice unless she's not adverse;
His meagre wealth kept deep inside her purse;
When friends advise she will demand to know;
He fears her tongue more than a Stygian foe!
By misfortune were she to be my wife,
I'd quell her temper, stop her wanton life;
Then tempt her with the buckle on my shoe,
Kiss her soubrettes, then flog the wayward shrew.
The Tyrant Wife. By the poet Robert Burns
Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell!
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit, or i'd break her heart:
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse *****.
Till that day I was
living in a
different world
When I use to see
things, as per my
notions and whims
But one day a
teacher taught me a
lesson
Perhaps, the
teacher would not
have imagined
What a great thing
he was diffusing
To all those who
were listening
His lecture on
“Seeing Things from
the other one’s
Angle”
When I practiced
that teaching and
adopted
The new way of
seeing things in my
life
I found a great
change in my way of
living
The results were
astonishing and
beyond doubt
sprouting
And pleasure and
happiness began to
grow slowly in life
What a beautiful Art
of Living and Loving
That teacher told me
with a concluding
To practice his
methods, to test its
success
At least for few
days, in the
beginning
The most important
thing he asked me do
Was to practice
visualizing myself
in the other man’s
shoes
The day I started
thinking from that
angle
Imagining the place,
where the other one
was standing
I felt many of my
problems started
diminishing
And gradually I
began to have better
understanding
What a small thing
to practice and what
a gain, which
Gave a U turn to the
way of my living and
thinking
In harmony with
Nature, while
believing in God
And in our believes,
faiths and Loving
I thanked the
teacher for all his
teachings
And the practical
demo* he gave to
prove his teaching
On the Art of Living
and Loving
Although he was
trying to explain
“Seeing Things from
the
other one’s Angle”
only, but I found it
to be
An ‘Art of Living
and Loving’
Ravindra
NOTE: Experimental
Poetry
• the Demonstration
part ( which is game
play ) can be
concluded in the
next part of this
Poem, if the poem is
found worth while.
Kanpur, India.
02nd Dec.
2009
I am here (solitude)
and there is
nothing to say
those who wish to get
somewhere
let them leave at any
moment
what we require is
silence (solitude)
but what silence
requires
is that I go on
talking
give any one
thought
a push
it
falls
down easily
but the pusher
and the pushed
produce
the entertainment
called
a discussion
shall we have
one
later ?
or
we
simply decide
not to
have
discussion (solitude)
whatever
you
like
but now
there are silences
and the words
make ( & ) help make
the silences
I have
nothing to say
and I am
saying it
and that
is poetry
as I need it
(and my solitude)
(in my silence)
___________________________
November 9, 2019
Poetry/Verse/A Tribute to Cage and Solitude
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1195-084-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
A Tribute to the poem, Lecture on Nothing, John Cage
*the words in brackets are my addition to his poem
Written for FTI Blog Series 23 - Solitude
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
You chastise me continually,
At home, even in the car;
What I should do, what I should say,
Who do you think you are.
You want me to be perfect,
Do everything just right,
And if I'm not you'll tell me,
So I try with all my might.
Not that I'm a door mat,
You can't push me around,
I'll try and try and try again,
And then I'll stand my ground.
If something doesn't turn out right,
You know you're not to blame,
So you turn to me with ire,
And curse and call me names.
It matters not I'm sorry,
If indeed I'm wrong,
It matters not my innocence,
If blame does not belong,
With me in any shape or way,
The lecture will go on,
Reiterate, discuss, debate,
Till self esteem is gone.
Be perfect and you say again,
Be perfect just like you;
But I'm not and cannot be,
I'm just me through and through.
I tried to please you, yes I did,
I tried with all my might;
But that's not good enough for you,
So you go fly a kite.
(some people couldn't be pleased if you peed in their ice cream)
Honoured to be invited to speak at a one day workshop,
I survey the audience to decide when the lecture should stop.
We all agree that 10am is a good time to take a break,
I commit to sticking to the schedule for everyone’s sake.
As a professional lecturer, I’d flown a distance to speak,
They audio and videotaped me after I gave the final critique.
We broke for morning coffee, I slipped off quickly to the bathroom,
After completing my task, I pulled up my pants and felt doom,
Seems in my rush to relieve myself, I just completely forgot,
I still had my microphones on, I guess not such a big shot!
Written September 17, 2011
For Nancy Jone’s contest
“Make Me Laugh”
I was in my chemistry class (lecture #2) and the professor was asking a series of questions. At first, hands were flying up, the answers were easy. But as questions got more complex, and the odds of being right fell off, confidence and raised-hands faltered.
I sit the front row because I film the lectures on my iPad, and there I was, doing my usual bit - taking detailed, color coded notes. If the lecturer mentioned something, I noted it, with my #5 mechanical pencil, but that something could become a heading or a bullet-point in a larger tableau. Those, I would color code with one of several gel pens - tracing carefully over the pencil. Later, in review, I might hi-lite these points with neon, phosphorescent highlighters. (I have a strict color coding system).
I tell you all that because it describes how focused I get on my note taking in classes. I don’t usually interact much due to my filming.
Suddenly, I noticed an unusual hush. I looked up and realized, to my trauma, that the professor had addressed me. He was looking fixedly at me, bent over with his hands on his knees (he’s on a platform).
“Pardon?” I said, meekly.
“Don’t just mouth the answer,” he repeated (apparently), exasperatedly, “say it out loud!”
I thought back to his last question and I offered, “Magnesium nitride,” but he tilted his head like he was waiting for more, “gave off ammonia as it mixed with the water?” I finish the answer like a question.
“Exactly!” he said, standing back up after giving his knees a little slap with his palms. “Thanks for JOINING us,” he says, and after checking his seating chart on his lectern, he added, “MS. Vionet.”
I took a shocked umbrage at this (scolding?), my whole body turning a defensive, atomic pink. What did I do - I thought - why was he being so sassy with me?
I doubt he REALLY wants answers just called out.
It might be a long year.
He left the church and solemn stage,
To catch the breath of Tudor age.
No more he drew the saintly ghost,
To lecture to a weary host.
He turned his pen to common men,
And brought them laughing from their den.
The priest and friar stepped aside,
For human hearts and foolish pride.
His works for courtly halls were made,
Where brief and lively pieces played.
These interludes of Tudor days
Brought spoken voices to our plays.
Four clever works bear Heywood's name,
As witty verse debates for fame.
They mocked the masks of our pretense,
With sharp and biting eloquence.
From o'er the sea, French farce took hold,
While Chaucer's tales of pilgrims bold
Inspired the warmth and human wit
That made his comic staging fit.
Yet though he laughed at human plight,
Each ending sought the true and right.
A gentle lesson, kind and clear,
To guide the listener and the peer.
He drew the proud, the vain, the loud,
The vibrant, chattering, daily crowd.
He showed how normal neighbors spoke,
And turned our flaws into a joke.
These tiny scenes of fun and play,
Prepared the great and golden day.
They paved the road, they lit the spark,
Before the Bard and his high art.
Beyond the stage, his clever pen
Caught living speech of working men.
He gathered proverbs from the street,
Where life and common language meet.
He warned to "look before you leap,"
Lest heavy errors make you weep.
"Rome wasn't built in just a day,"
He wrote to help us find our way.
"From frying pan and into fire,"
We climb from trouble up to higher.
And "better safe than sorry" stood,
To keep our daily choices good.
When burdens grew too great to bear,
"Two heads are better" than a pair.
"A penny for your thoughts," he’d buy,
With warmth and laughter in his eye.
When loved ones walk "out of your sight,"
They soon are "out of mind" by night.
But "many hands make light the work,"
When none of us our duties shirk.
These old expressions, sharp and true,
Are spoken still by me and you.
The present day still holds his phrase,
Born warm and bright in Tudor days.
I woke up and felt dead.
Nothing new, but I’m spurred on by tonight’s events,
A chance to drink and party with friends.
I didn’t understand my lecture and the tutorial went over my head,
But it’s fine, it’ll be drunkenly forgotten by the time I’m in bed.
Mondays are tough, I’m not rewarded refuge from the noise,
I’m left yearning for the next night out with the boys.
When I won’t stress about uni,
When I no longer hate the way I look,
The scars disappear as if the alcohol took- all the that pushes me over,
All the restless torments and stupid insecurities,
But they’ll be back, and worse, as soon as I’m sober.
The floodgates reopen and the water floods my mind,
Accompanied by headaches and nausea entwined,
Now it’s worse than ever because all that I can think,
Is when an earth can I next drink.
***Here's a set of senryu's!***
(Stimulated by nervousness to the core)… trying to calm down
Can’t because I can’t sleep – there…
Worn a wretched frown
Life is demanding
Making friends can be tricky
Think before you do
Think before you write –
I’ve learned that as a writer
Well, silence is bliss…
Don’t lecture me please
I’ve tried to take correction
Don’t ignore…just LISTEN!
Why am I angry?
Grateful that peace erases . . .
All violence observed.
I tried to belong
In & out of my house
At least I try…okay?
I made some mistakes
Some I’m not proud of, alright…?
Well, I’m human…right?
Short-tempered once more
Refrain from being a pain
Smiling hopefully… (serenity is in store, so worry no more)