Long Levelled Poems
Long Levelled Poems. Below are the most popular long Levelled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Levelled poems by poem length and keyword.
They survived their nets
After weeks of trials
They overcame and left
Left to form an alliance
Destroy, enjoy,save their skins
Just so could find revival
All bunched in one room
Separate reptiles, different owners
Causing confusion, taking advantage of the lost ones
There are the judges
Telling stories they never knew
After the wind,they order the moon never to move
Then the observers
Always observing
As the room moves to the left,they simply nod their heads
"Never concern me"
Then are the readers
Always reading, never responding
In their quiet corners,they gist
Never respond to meetings but always laughing
Then the religious priests
Always conversing "Jesus loves you" "Assalamualaikum"
"We nor mixed pa una idleness"
But always giving them peace
Should I say the victims
Always guilty
Guilty of the crimes levelled against them
Never innocent, never at peace
All in one room
Fighting defeat
Mosquitoes from different nets
Always aching
Aching for survival
All in one net
Some call it the sappier of happiness or should I say Whatsapp?
Sapping every single being
Every reptile with the same sting
Every mosquito whether thick or thin
Different nets
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram
All in one room
Mosquitoes from different nets
When will it end?
When shall you keep your heads low?
And return back to your nets!
Mosquitoes from different nets
Peace ???????
*Written by: George Ojuku Momoh*
I stood atop the fortress Megiddo
plains in the Jezreel stretching all around
from John's Apocalypse believers know
this site where the last battle will be found.
Through God's wrath seventh Angel is unleashed
by quake and fire, hailstorm now levelled ground
wailing from the followers of the beast
earth and man laid waste by trumpet sound.
But now I think that we knew all along
as murder stalks the French and Belgian streets
that in his Revelations John was wrong
here, now, in present times these armies meet.
As words become fulfilled, then by and by
I pause and wonder- could the end be nigh?
PRIDE
I went in search of pride
When I found her; she was so proud of herself
She prided herself about like a peacock
I told her the humble truth of life
Pride, you need to get down from your high shoes
Only then can you realize that which you haven't realized
The ground on which you stand is not a levelled ground
This ground you stand on is only a stepping ground to a higher ground
Right now, you see it as a ground higher than mount Everest
Your pride deceives you; you are standing on a ground below sea level.
She is just a girl
She is in herself a self acclaimed goddess
She likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; she controls herself
Though not good at it; herself controls her
Pride gets the best out of her; humility is her slave
She is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
She doesn't want to get real with reality
She is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in her comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
He is just a boy
He is in himself a self acclaimed god
He likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; he controls himself
Though not good at it; himself controls him
Pride gets the best out of him; humility is his slave
He is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
He doesn't want to get real with reality
He is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in his comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
Lordvip
Old flame memories, and game show repeats,
viewed through tobacco, it's smoke fills the room,
loneliness, only, stays glued to defeat,
blue-bottles, can't help, but choke on the gloom.
Dreams like the remote, corroded to rust,
unopened, unpaid, bills sit by the door,
surrendered and lost, to despair and dust,
no-one levelled up, around here for sure.
Each day's an ashtray, of stub filled regret,
while moth eaten drapes, block out the world's light,
another neat gin, will help to forget,
added indifference, towards day and night.
The blocked drains and sink, dirty old dishes,
all that remains of, yesterday's wishes.
Today I stopped waiting.
I had promised distance.
I never break promises,
but this time,
it was survival.
I ranted a little,
accused a lot,
a disgusting manipulation,
for I must sew the seed,
the opposite of love.
So I am cut off,
I am hated,
and I have totally lost,
control, happiness, warmth,
but I am levelled.
Today I weigh a bit less,
and I move a bit quicker.
This day I cease hiding
from myself
and the truth I denied.
I am free now,
and I will rebuild.
My house will be bigger,
than even back then,
and it will boast a great Master.
My heart is white today,
it's blackness is gone.
My will serves as a ticket
toward the long journey ahead,
destination is justified and fluid.
Those that leave you,
make you a larger vessel.
Once emptied it will hunger
to be filled to it's brim,
with a gorgeous golden meniscus.
Do not run, do not shield,
for it is a valorous goal.
To know the pain you risk
and the robbing of the time,
preluded by hope and satisfaction.
So thank the lovers in a moment of clarity,
thank the thieves of hearts and memories,
think of them as salient and sweet.
For you are enriched and unburdened,
and you are ready to admit the light.
Rage at the dark,
Rant at the ravagers of souls,
but welcome them to the stage.
For to master the act,
one must first master the rehearsal.
Two friends from far-off Mumbai
Used to interact in the media
With me, one always supportive
The other invariably vituperative
Both are now silent and mum
Since many days, quite unlike them
That made me over-curious
To probe their Facebook pages
Alas, the guys haven’t posted
Anything in the last couple of years
Where have they vanished?
God forbid the scary thought
And then here is another guy
He is getting admitted he informs
In a hospital for a minor procedure
Hopes to return soon to our midst
With his latest literature
His children then write the next day
On his wall, he has flown away
There is a social media site
Which publishes news
About my locality and surrounds
Mostly death news it carries
Of those in their sixties, seventies and eighties
With their pictures and family details
Some faces are familiar
Others difficult to recapture
Media has done distance away
Obits are the order of the day
Tailored for both the well-known and unknown
Tears and folded hands abound
To be forgotten before the Moon completes a round
The octogenarian me looks around
Misses several faces known from childhood
Time has levelled the ground
Palmyras of yore have gone
Unfamiliar foliage now abounds
That is life, boy!
My bones creak philosophically
Lemme raise a toast
To all those who meant
Something to my being
Biding time
Till another page opens up
Before my closing eyes
To a landscape
Of towering palmyras
Swinging their long hair
Like Arab ladies of the Gulf
In a frenzied swaying dance
Saturday is native to weddings and ceremonies
Of anxieties – patterned in coarse sputum of rain.
My friend Bonsy and his wife filled the calendar
With the uselessness of time, levelled against waste
As indicated by the clocks of dew-coated pavements
Of our yawning city.
Next to this was the arrangement of formalities which
Came with the attainment of stress. They haggled
Between themselves, the celebrants. Oh well, they haggled
For the benefits of the church from which the organ must
Sound, to welcome them – aisle-bound – among a congregation
That suits itself with the accoutrements of churchdom.
And the wedding proceeded amid the glare of the gentle
Sun, into whose ears the dulcet voice of the red organ
Poured. A postman once said to me, ‘If all posts bore
Wedding invitations, who would attend and who wouldn’t? ’
To which I turned my arms up, helplessly indicating my
Thoughtlessness to such questions.
And the church bell pealed.
It grew with the muscle of Doppler Effect when frayed nerves
Become inured to boiling cold like the one we all were witnesses
To, that blustery, unendowed Saturday, when Bonsy married June.
And the minister pronounced every word of conjugation with
Care, peering into the eyes of the couple and the rest of us sinners
Who listened with the attentiveness of cats on matters relating the
Rape of pious mice.
The organ rose and fell in one voice swoop, massaging the pride
In one sinner after another on this ceremony of whimsical gales,
Now sweeping the face of the town; this union of bone and flesh
Draped in dark suits and flowing matter of whiteness, white and
Whitish whiteness of white.
‘I DO’.
The church winked.
‘I DO’.
The holy house hummed.
The organ belched.
Outside, Saturday wore on like before... oh, no, not like before,
When it would have lain prostrate to its own fouled weather of
Extreme bride bliss and dancing confetti.
My friend’s wedding went on on the blustery breath of July rain.
Dark and fussy, the clouds, jealous of July, frowned their faces.
Rain spat gently. No thunder spoke.
Lightning came only through the lone eyes of cameras.
The Paragliders like ravenous vultures flew
to southern Israel to predate on soft targets.
Like swarms of bees, they snuck, raped, maimed, shot, burnt and slew.
Terror did every man's fragile conscience becloud.
Hate made their embittered hearts to mercy forget.
Abductions followed, having to terror avowed.
Then came the IDF's genocidal intent,
having intended global laws to circumvent;
Children, women, all consumed by mighty vengeance.
A disproportionate response beyond balance.
Homes, hospitals, Mosques, Churches and schools are levelled,
as Gaza is by torrents of bombs bedeviled.
I do not with a livid Israel sympathize,
nor do I with a besieged Gaza empathize.
With humanity I have my affinity,
for my deep love for it, tends to infinity.
The day fell,
and the night came,
shrouding me in shadows,
where silence echoed,
and I stood alone,
a solitary figure,
lost in dark thoughts,
weaving visions of a red-flamed future,
glimmering like gleaming gold,
but laced with despair.
Beneath the cold Kachikau winds,
the breath of the late me swept through,
carrying whispers of yesterdays,
and the weight of a world aching,
a bleeding earth,
its crust folding,
wrapping secrets in layers of sorrow.
I saw the end of the world,
a collapse so gentle,
like a rose wilting in the dry season,
the future fading,
petals falling,
each one a memory,
each one a promise unkept.
The walls we built trembled,
cracked under the pressure of our own making,
the rock of my salvation,
long weathered,
her spirit eroded,
whispers of strength now mere echoes.
The Kachikau horizons lay levelled,
a barren canvas where dreams once danced,
the times when you were with me,
when I was with you,
all but a flicker in the depths of time,
a fire burned them to the depths of Sheol,
consuming love, consuming light—
I saw the earth fade,
an artist’s brush sweeping across the canvas,
leaving only shades of gray.
We dug a pit,
and in our haste, we fell,
collapsing into the very void we crafted,
our hands stained with the earth’s blood,
we made it bleed,
our lips consumed us,
entwined in a kiss of despair,
a desperate embrace,
where passion turned to ashes.
Now, the end of the world is near,
a whisper on the wind,
a haunting melody,
and we,
we are all fading,
like stars swallowed by the dawn,
our light dimming,
our stories unfinished,
as darkness wraps around us,
an eternal shroud,
Form:
We made the base for the grave out the farm,
Where our dad can now rest his head
Forever more, in his favourite spot,
The place of dad’s harmonious bed.
We mixed the buckets of water with concrete,
Then shovelled this to the square,
Levelled flat with rake, trowel and a spade,
We let it harden up in the air.
It’s on top of the hill, with a beautiful view of the farm,
A peaceful spot with the sheep,
A peaceful place where the birds sing all day,
And dad can now peacefully sleep.
We made a base for the grave out the farm,
Using concrete, bricks and stone,
Where dad can rest, forever more,
And we can visit him each day, all alone.