Long Levity Poems
Long Levity Poems. Below are the most popular long Levity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Levity poems by poem length and keyword.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
« She must suffer to her last breath. (…) They’ll all soon be as Dead as 0-Ren Ishii. »
« That woman deserves her Revenge. And we deserve to die. »
From « Kill Bill Vol. 1 »
I
Two French girls in Paris
one aged thirteen
the other fourteen
together take wing.
The police bring them back home.
Then hand-in-hand they jump
from their seventeenth floor flat.
They leave behind a note :
« This life has nothing to offer.
What are we living for ? »
An Austrian socialist philosopher-journalist in Paris
in perfect physical health
lies down beside his terminally ailing English wife
never to wake again together
after bequeathing their papers and wealth
not to the Socialist Party
but to a Catholic charity.
He leaves behind a long love letter
his very last remember-me book.
Till death does not do us part.
A Stateless poet passes through Paris
with his Spanish putative spouse
and infant boy.
Paris casts a covetous eye on the mother.
She plans the poet’s murder
and maims her son for life.
The People’s protectors pressgang her
and daily pound the poet to pulp.
Vive ! la France ! Viva ! la Francia !
II
A lone coyote trumpets over the sakura strewn snow
A moanful flute tugs at nostalgic heartstrings
Meiko Kaji comes on with her plaintive lilt :
Urami yibushi
We’ve not long to go in this void
The still frozen air gasps through swishing slices
Spurting Strüwel-Peter blood and bones
cherry blossoms on the snow-clad parapet
struck down by the lethally-chilled sheen
of the Hattori Hanzo steel
To kill there need be no will
The will to kill resides in the sill
of the vengeful white of the eye
III
Even if we can’t stand it any longer, Lady
We’d rather not leave just yet in a hurry
Would we see the likes of this world again
Ever know what’s better than this domain
Unknown to us the slow melodious dirge
Tugs at us : stay yet a while, it whispers !
Who knows who’d be there to receive us
Yes, yes, stay yet a while, little lady !
Hum a sentimental ditty
Recall even a fated memory
Revive some moments of levity :
A friend a face an outing
A little tenderness
A tiny moment of harmony
Together in this wilderness
© T. Wignesan – Paris November 14 2007 (Rev. 2012)
From: T. Wignesan
Copyright ©: T. Wignesan – Paris November 14, 2007 (Rev. 2012)
Joseph Robinette Biden
now commander in chief yay
manning ship of state
tossing anchors aweigh
heavily pierced tattooed
donning sheepish pirate(s)
at heady roiling waterway
fending off trolling rapscallion
much more thrilling
than watching cabaret
January twenty first two thousand
twenty one marks his first full day
wherein Oval Office finally
flushed, ousted, and zapped,
whose paternal ancestry
begat genealogical linkedin émigré
name unknown, nevertheless
one Johann Trump born within
Bobenheim am Berg, a village
in Palatinate, Germany circa 1789
moved to nearby village of Kallstadt
where his grandson, Friedrich Trump,
the grandfather of Donald Trump,
born in 1869 gamboled
upon grassy fairway
whereby grandson notorious
to grandstand and gainsay,
but especially renowned
windblown coiffure
kept intact courtesy "fake" hairspray
said product he did fulminate
against and inveigh,
cuz he envied (as does yours truly)
the trademark thatch sported by J.F.K.
At long last, a stalwart adept candidate
unwittingly saddled
with onerous figurative freight
COVID-19, homelessness, joblessness
sober statistics impossible mission to inflate,
whose physique slender and lightweight
boot pulleys and levers of power
he quite savvily can operate
personable and suave demeanor doth resonate
allowing, enabling, and providing
law and order to materialize,
and accomplishments downplayed
(unlike previous commander in chief)
whose braggadocio would never underrate.
Concern still prevails
regarding that woman user
egging fascistic paramilitary
white supremacist ilk
twittering as a digital schmoozer
hell bent on sowing anarchy,
cuz other Democratic contestant
did not defeat
soured at prospect their man beat
(him - who shall not be named again
ranks as a sore loser)
nevertheless, an oafish shill bruiser.
If prognostications allowed me,
at bedtime, when a supine American,
one garden variety and generic
sleepy Joe among madding crowd
will experience glee
at prospective buoyancy, decency,
fraternity, harmony, jollity, levity,
nobility, prosperity, serenity, tranquility...
wishing no ill will toward
former forty sixth president.
The principal knocked on my school counselor door’s window beckoning for me to join her on the other side. I shook my head, ’no,’ motioning to the boys who were laughing like full-blown loons, smacking each other in the head with pillows, almost landing into the cement walls of the counseling office. She rapped again and gave me her infamous glasses to the end of her nose, pinchy face look.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said as I crept outside, under the un-watchful eyes of four third –grade- puppies who wouldn’t have noticed if I had disappeared at this point.
Her mouth was set tight, straight; angry-like almost.
“That’s why I’m the counselor, and you’re the principal,” I informed her. Without taking my eyes off the boys, I leaned in and yelled, “YOU CALL THAT A HIT?” Suddenly everything got much smackier and happier and rather quickly I am pleased to announce.
Four routinely unhappy dour-faced eight –year –old boys were now jumping over the bean bags, holding each other in place, in a big huddle as they happily smacked and laughed and giggled and gleed together in the healthiest puppy heap I’d ever seen. Possibly the first puppy pile any of them had ever experienced, and now it looked like, maybe the last.
Wanting them to fully enjoy it, I yelled, “My Grandma hits better than you four!” and it started up in full delight. No one had noticed the principal yet, which added to the levity.
“None of these boys have had a birthday party or been invited to one,” I informed the principal. “Have you ever seen Jacob smile like that?” I went on.
This principal was good at loud face; she could pretend angry. But there was one thing about this principal that anyone who really knew her knew. She loved the children, and she loved the teachers, and she loved these boys, and she loved me.
She immediately understood.
We watched the puppy pile in silence for a couple of minutes.
“This is so smart!” she whispered.
We were standing next to each other, hugging now. Two mama bears, watching our cubs, knowing they would never be the same.
“Do it,” she whispered. “You do it,” I urged her. In the end we yelled it together,
“YOU CALL THAT A HIT?”
My distracting theatrics verses are preempted versions of impending calamity, one by air, and, one by sea.
The point of levity is to advance the common element of surprise--the unexpected of the "clueless," whereto, I'll appropriately relabel as "passengers," save or bar the crew members, whom I'll also relabel them as, "sacrificial lambs," "... jolly good to go down with the ship, eh, First Mate?" "Every man for themselves, Captain!" "Are you from the States?" "Birmingham, sir." "England or Alabama?"
Levity is on because hope exists as time permits the gullible. A poem I wrote, exacts that point, entitled, "Mirror, In The Line Of Fire: POTW," where impending doom may claim your liberties, both physical [inability to move--fear], and mental [clear process to act--hysteria] is in the strike of you--death seizes your face/fate/faith.
My quantum phrase addressing those factors is, " ... gullible may hold the keys, but 'tis knowledge that opens the door."
Time idles whilst the plane sits on the tarmac--read the manual where on board is the safest place to position yourself or loved ones--a measure of hope--tho' odds are great, lean your faith on righteousness hold--greater than other--hymnally speaking.
With so much floatable furnishing, Titanic could have created a raft for a few souls more--again, a measure of hope.
A clear mind and ability to move give hope to those lacking, as fear and panic claim ownership of precious souls.
The odds may be great when facing such a calamity, and having such a mindset, therein lies the greater calamity.
A third survived, 700 souls, and two-thirds lost 1400 souls the Atlantic Ocean claims. A sad yet true revelation grew in Titanic's aftermath. The phraseology: "The Affluent Survived, The Destitute Died," adds another chapter of humanity's truths of life's measure of worth well-hid in the core of Eve's fruit, hence, illumination, "Since the beginning of time/knowledge of good and evil.
Murphy's Law acts as a jumping point for quantum knowledge in their efforts to simplify life struggles with a convenient doorway for its exit for your journey to a better you--give time for hope.
Flame of life flutters, tide wanes sans reason,
Death drops shutters whilst life sinks in a pit,
The day looks dull, dark clouds when hides the sun,
Night gets moonless, cloudy and stars are no more lit.
Life's breathless breasts hide failing heart beneath
As if to mask a universal truth,
Creeping unseen, Death gnaws with gnarling teeth,
And still, the dying life dreams of her days of youth
And returns home carrying no suitcase
And leaves bare hands, all unfinished hopes hemmed,
As loveliest words get frozen on face,
And as some rarest poems may just die un-penned.
As some of life-long goals remain un-scored,
As one-sided love remains mute, wordless,
As life’s set sailed to float across un-oared
Lo, it suffers a new sentence to sail clueless,
Death cometh, two un-dotted times to dot,
To bring together two random journeys,
Sepulchral silence falls, church bells toll not,
As the air thickens and freezes, as doth chilled breeze.
And ye Life, like kids’ paper boats collapse,
Mere puddle it takes to soak it and sink,
Not a great storm to tilt as paper snaps,
Death hassles thee O Life to kiss thy own last brink.
Much maligned Death, thou art no enemy
Of Life— a darling friend of so many,
Ye walk with Life, so light thy levity,
And yet, for such largesse, ye get not a penny!
To thee Death, the morrow’s but next moment,
Thine future tied on a tenuous thread,
Ye live half-shut eyed, instant to instant,
And still, the last goodbye of thine is such a dread!
So, Death, feel thou firm as my fervent friend
Not to forget, we’re a Siamese twain,
Be my morrow till my life’s very end,
Together die shall we as one bound by a chain.
_______________________
Ode (musings) | 03.05.2012 | life, death
Note: the fourth line of each quatrain is two-syllable longer (a hexameter, with apology to Alexander Pope*).
* A needless alexandrine ends the song,
That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
- from his poem An Essay on Criticism
Written: April 3rd 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How I venerate you, O Lord
In your lens, lenity and levity loom
as a benign breeze
Stars doth glitter in a prolific night sky
Their radiance is a celestial litter
guiding wayward souls to shine
When people slumber, embrace
They heed no calls.
Even gates sealed by nobility
won't disrupt their serene sleepiness
yet I embrace your extol in solitude
In an epoch where time stretches
No flame flickers with fervor
as I wassail on Ambrosian Amber
amorist aflame by zeal and dazes
I spy on myself with an unequivocal shield
Observing an abundance of stars in motion
With clouds skating kindly, hide-and-seek
Through a sky smeared with ink
It's well past midnight
My knees start to quake and aquiver
I had eagerly awaited the moment.
Beneath clay of life
Amidst challenges, beleaguer
I'm tripping and fumbling from a perch
Oh, what a sight...
I fall from my pedestal
Now diminished to creeping and crawling
Our separation has been long
and crave your arcane embrace
It's been ages since
I first revered your ariose divinity
I will never perish asunder.
I grasp your blithely unfathomable lens
I am witnessing the blossoming of canorous love
while I am tangled in its throes
My clangor corpulent return is obvious
after desultory crestfallen
I grapple in agony, seeking mercy
Despite my anguish, I felt forlorn
in need of your diaphanous meed
But you never let me be lonesome
Constantly providing an unwavering glow.
Dulcet shrine dances
A hundred billion mirrors
Elysian pin-sized effusive
Dazzles with an ephemeral glow
Rising in an esoteric mirror
Fastidious gossamer glimmers
Of the divine inveigle
Until you bear them in
How will you realize?
Who resides there?
Elixir lyrics by masters
Churning my impalpable blood
Into jaunt juicy ambrosia.
You grasp my languid state
And celebrate
Wait till I dissolve
Into loquacious nectar
then will drink and maunder
a nebulous nexus was around?
Time and tide again waits for no man
tempest-tossed upon life’s billow
The hull or the dinghy
Serves as a fortress
Though steady on its keel
Knocked his wits and sense
As he vacillates between levity and despair
Caused by his unbridled folly
He rakes the moon from out of the sea
A gust of air blew
It tethered him to flee
All you see is overcast
Knots, tiller, hatch, or helm
Love’s killer patch, overwhelm
Derelict in a sense
A castaway float astray
Break the resolve
Of a man who once vowed
to never sail again
But the songs of the nymphs
Was beckoning him
Is there something alluring
or is he just lonely?
Can't find comfort in the stillness
With every beating on the mast
Fate on the tide
Because not once, not twice
But several times
he almost drowned
He was lost at sea
His curse muffled
No stir in the air
He was peeled
And like the tales of sailormen,
She suddenly appeared
Like white foam
She ribboned the blue sky
The clouds drifts idly
As if they haven’t heard
Not a stirring breeze
But her ravenous rage
Devoured him
With rapacious eagerness
Lapping at his ballast
A violent wind is no match
To a careless sail man
in the middle of a stormy sea
He tasted the saltiness
And remembered the breath of his past
As he found himself washed ashore
He was saved at last
But he was looking for more
Despite the warning from the weather lore
And like the wind,
She whips a howling dance
As sea and sky make love
She could not calm her frenetic ire
It stirred something in him
It hit him like a squall
Once again he takes the plunge
Stupid as he is
To find himself once again
Sailing in the storm
Amidst the tempestuous sea
Evening gray and morning red
He could only wish he was dead.
All hands on deck
And as he chants
Red sky in the morning
Serves as warning
Red sky at night sailors delight
Her crimson lips parted
As she said,
"Evening red and morning gray,
help the traveler on his way.
Evening gray and morning red
bring down my wrath upon his head".
When death comes, sordid, scary
I shall not fret, as others do be
I shall not be shaken, not in the least measure
But will welcome him with utmost pleasure
He shall sit upon my crouch
And beside him, I shall crouch
I shall show him hospitality
I shall make the issue of fear, a frivolity
From the lack of meanness of purpose,
He shall, the aim of his visit disclose
Yes, when all is still and shrill
He comes but to kill
But from cunningness and sagacity
I shall, with pretence, make the issue levity
We shall hence drink from the grail
Until our limbs begin to frail
We shall drink of the sweet wine to stupor
To stupor, yes to stupor
We shall talk about our stupid acts
Acts we would in the future, please to retract
I shall say how I diddled
He, how he killed and giggled
Perhaps, I shall frown upon the mention
Mention of the butchery of a loved one, long lost and gone
From the intake of much wine, we shall get stupid
So stupid and our chat shall get insipid
Death himself shall bore and sleep
I too, shall plunge in the world beyond, deep
But before he arises, I shall gain soberness
A state of solemn body and mind togetherness
And lo! Upon the floor shall lay my guest, Death
In my abode, there upon the floor
Upon the floor, everyman’s terror
Unbelievably at mortal man’s mercy
I shall stand above him with wrath or mercy
To kill or to let, the death of many to compensate
The issue of dying and death, to obliterate
But much to the disappointment of many,
I shall not commit to any
For he has no life which I could take
For lifeless he is with nothing at stake
And for the time he shall be in slumber
I shall keep guard and no longer slumber
For if I sleep, he may wake
But no, he shall not wake
And all that would sleep on that night shall wake on the morrow
And upon the dawn of a new day
I shall see him off on his way
Much to the disappointment of my neighbor
The act I know he will deplore
But I shall warn
For to my abode has death come and gone
But to his, it is yet to come.