Long Madonna Poems
Long Madonna Poems. Below are the most popular long Madonna by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Madonna poems by poem length and keyword.
Being in one place too long,
being in one form to long,
never being able to tolerate a blank page,
or empty air,
for fear of what someone else
will put in it if you don't
Wanting to feel safe, surrounded by enemies
who call themselves friends
A white knight dreamer in purgatory
edged on an endless field of victims
with hands outstretched.
A stereotypical Madonna
white in a field of gray
A wick less, often witless, foil
of coils of gray matter around things
which matter not at all.
Making acquaintances,
cloaking them in the garb of friendship
even while they toss sticks
on the pyres of the all life.
For what after all is a friend...
Who after all can truly know
as each of us confront and are confronted
by our own hells
and hope without much hope
for the outstretched hand to be ungloved
and touch the skin of our lives.
The Cardinal requires Ser Bernardino,
as high contracting party to the tasks,
to paint ten histories in damasceno,
in gold, vermilion: also asks
that other pleasing colours be employed,
the whole to be so handsome, beautiful
and lively, as will fill the present void
with fantasies. He should be dutiful
and diligent, and supervise the work.
Designs will all reveal The Master’s hand
(though pupils may fill spaces). He’ll not shirk
in imitating latest fashions. And
(this is insisted on) the Master shan’t
dodge off to paint some panel here or there,
but shall remain engaged on this. He can’t
retouch, restore, revivify, repair
or otherwise (without grave loss of honour)
adapt, adulterate, or amplify
some tuppeny hapenny Umbrian Madonna,
without The Cardinal demanding why.
The frescoes should contain protagonists
appropriate to the life herein depicted,
with landscapes, trees and mountains, mists
and such (for instance, like the storm inflicted
on Enea by the gods at Piombino).
Each pose and gesture, such as may amuse
and fascinate. This done, Ser Bernardino
may add whatever detail he may choose.
The Master binds himself and his garzoni
to purchase olive oil and best verdicchio,
all flour, figs, cheese, fruit, maccaroni,
with vouchers I’ll supply. Signed, Pinturicchio.
I’ve Just Seen a Face
my first selection
I become more than I am
for the contest
I sing without the prompts
and make the lyrics mine.
I'm happy to have the day off.
Neon lights shine in the window
as other patrons watch
and someone throwing darts
pauses to take a look.
Free deli sandwiches
and chips on a table—
a special night to partake.
My second, Lady Madonna,
a slice of life for some.
I take a sip of my drink.
A former manager watches,
and I must admit I can never
be truly myself at the store.
The DJ says we all are winners
although only two will move on.
I receive a pat on the back
after the audience lost themselves
while watching me.
I had sung two songs
but someone sitting at the bar
said my music called for another.
A light in the parking lot
shines a star.
From the Heart to the Cross
The burden to carry on a journey slated
Weighs heavily on an outcome known to be ill- fated,
When Faith is the belief in hope for deliverance
Where humanity’s destiny hangs in the balance.
In mirrors dwell prisoners’ angst and desperate rot,
To lay their heads in the bosom of Madonna.
One way leads to the Saviour, the other does not.
Be it by choice, from the heart to the cross.
Comfort and joy. God will provide sanctuary
The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Though Mary mourns, her anguish is temporary.
Unbelievers throw stones, yet His Word lives on.
His last hour on Golgotha shook civilization.
Angels triumphantly trumpeted the Lord’s salvation.
A madman with a hammer thrashes the Pietà1
To eradicate the metamorphic rock sculpture from history
That Michelangelo chiseled out of Carrara marble2—
Who made the seated Madonna larger and profanely stronger,
While cradling Jesus (whose appearance projects frailty)
As if having been chastised for allowing crucifixion.
A mollification for theological credence,
Neither reinforced nor inspired by biblical writings.
By appeasement, the sculptor admits conspiracy
With dogma, misrepresenting Christ to the living.
Mary’s demureness as she looks upon the contorted figure
Supports the illusion of her lordly stature.
***
Notes:
1 Pietà: The “Pietà” is a sculpture by Michelangelo (1475–1564) depicting the Madonna cradling Jesus after His crucifixion. The sculpture was completed in 1500 and is housed in St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, Italy.
On May 21, 1972, an Australian citizen vandalized the Pietà with a geologist’s hammer. The individual was not charged with any criminal offence but was hospitalized in Italy for two years and then released and deported back to Australia.
2 Carrara marble: Carrara marble is stone quarried in Carrara, Tuscany, Italy. The three most common types of Italian marble are Carrara, Calacatta, and Statuary (aka Statuario). Michelangelo is reported to have said that this was the most “perfect” block of stone he ever used.
Angela Maria, you were named so -
(no angel or Madonna in my mind) -
just simple flowing names I liked from long ago.
Your first name, Angela, so often was confused
(by even those who knew us), with my own name, Andrea.
I hoped that their similitude might bind us,
like my blood, which was a part of you.
Your second name, Maria, that “most beautiful sound”
I’d heard inside a pretty song one night.
“Say it loud and there’s music playing. . .
Say it soft and it’s almost like praying.”
Those lines stayed with me since my childhood.
Daughter, friend from heaven, from my womb
you came, and then you grew, . .
and now you have made room
for Christ to be your guide.
With joy and with pride I’ve watched you bloom
from a child of innocence into a wiser youth,
and now a woman taking on the role
of loving wife and mother,
and finally. . .
You really are an “Angel,’
a daughter of the Lord that speaks with truth.
For Constance's contest:
"Even a Name Can Be Poetry"
EVITA
Maria Eva Duarte de Perón -
her husband rocked her world - seed sown.
Argentina's sordid saint -
the First Lady’s wake caused them to weep and faint.
3/21/2019
Celebrity or Famous Person Clerihew
Sponsor - Tania Kitchin
Evita met her husband, Juan Perón, after an earthquake. She was known for her “Rainbow Tour” of Europe. She was finely dressed and gave money to the poor. Protesters in Switzerland threw stones and tomatoes at her. She died from cancer when she was 33 and running for vice-president. Madonna played the part of Evita in movie of the same name.
Carlo Santana's Black Magic Woman,
in the 60's and 70's gave magic to his
band..
Drugs were part of this movement it's
fair to say. Getting high for many,
while listening to their music, was the
common way
Peace signs, beads, bell bottoms,
psychedelic shirts, desert boots, and
long hair and marijuana, is what was
in style. Looking back and being part
of that history lifestyle, makes me smile.
Peace protesters against the draft,
and Vietnam war. Jimi Hendrix, Peter,
Paul and Mary, The Beatles, Bob Dillon
The Beach Boys,Led Zepplin, Rolling
Stones,Elvis,Simon and Garfunkel,
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Neil Young,
Leonard Skynyrd, Eric Clapton, Carly
Simon is all we heard.
They kept our soldiers in Viet Nam
mentally occupied. It helped them
overcome their stress, and brought
some pleasure to their lives.
Rock N Roll Music had an impact
everywhere.The melodies and lyrics
represented a culture reflecting people,
who really cared.
Neil Young, Eric Clapton, Aerosmith,
Neil Diamond, Barbara Striesand,
Jim Croce made the scene. Years later
Disco and the Bee Gee's came dancing
in.
Disco died, it didn't last long, during
this time Rock N Roll kept rolling on.
Rush, The Eagles, The Police, Peter
Frampton, Boston, Reo Speedwagon,
Blue OysterCult, Fleetwood Mac, Bob
Seger, Steve Miller band, we listened
to. I can't forget Journey, Bruce
Springsteen, Foreigner or the Who.
Bon Jovi, Creed, Madonna, Red Chili
Peppers, Van Halen, Black Eye Peas,
Were hot then. Rock N Roll songs, will
keep on playing, and be appreciated
over and over again.
Time reflects the Lyrics in the songs,
of the good times and the wrongs.
Woodstock brought them all together,
a lasting bond to last forever.. .
Homeward Bound Simon and Garfunkel
was the favorite song with the soldiers. Also
John mentioned The Lion SleepsTonight by
the Tokens. Robert Lindley also mentioned
their groups that were left out. Please read his
comments below. I also thank Robert for his
valued input.
I just want to add that the 60's and
70's were my personal favorite years.
I say this because people really cared
about the war and each other. They
were right...
Michael Tor 10/16/2015 Nayda Ivette Negron. Contest: Favorite Music Type
Yo, I say yo,
Don’t go until you here this,
This bliss, don’t dismiss, my message,
I know 8 mc’s, 7 in physical form, one in spiritual essence,
We got presence,
It all started, with the Jerry G Lucas,
And then Lucas Jr.
He will school ya,
And Melba, the compassionate,
Castin’ it aside, all notions of herself,
In a symphony of sacrifice,
And then there’s me the poet scholar,
I wear a colla,
Of slayin’ beasts of hatred,
But I’m elated,
Because I found ha,
The christocentric, Madonna,
Who set my world on fire,
She’s no lia,
She claims the desire,
Of minions of millions of men,
Who envy my wisdom,
In choosin’ this venus,
Who gave birth to the child of light,
I mean a warrior of right,
Autumn, the season of joy,
And with little Woodrow, we make seven,
We going to heaven,
And leadin’ the world there,
Gerald G Junior, He’ll school ya,
With business elasticity,
And he’ll help you see,
The light of common urgency,
The magnificent 7, and with Christ we make 8,
The numba of new beginnin’s
Sending, minions, to lendin’ love, and covetin’ kindness,
Can you rhyme this,
It all started with the patriarch,
He had no fatha,
But with his iron will,
He became the transcendent,
You can’t bend it,
His fist of fury,
With methodical precision,
He makes ya listen,
And can you understand, this man, of the ages?
Maybe so, maybe not,
But can’t no one stop us,
Cause we a clan,
Of the all mighty,
Shine bright we,
Will change the face of Arrakis,
Amen.
I was born in a temple in Vietnam,
but the stars knew my name before I had one.
They planted me in a priestess's hands,
and the priestess planted me in the soil of elsewhere.
The Avengers called me strange.
Not unkindly—they simply could not read me.
I had no rage for them to measure.
No hunger they recognized as human.
Thor spoke thunder and expected echo.
Iron Man counted his grief in decibels.
Captain America dreamed in red stripes and duty.
And me?
I dreamed in pistil and stamen.
In the slow mathematics of pollination.
In the patience of a green limb
waiting through winter.
They saw a woman who touched their temples
and whispered futures.
They saw hands that turned bullets
into rose petals.
They saw the way I loved the swordsman—
a broken man holding a sharp thing—
and they called it pity.
They were wrong.
Desire for me was never the body's crude arithmetic.
It was the *knowing*.
The knowing that love is another form of prophecy.
That to give yourself to someone
is to read a death you cannot prevent.
I am the Celestial Madonna.
Which means: I am not a mother yet,
but the universe is already listening to my womb.
Which means: Cotati taught me to grow kingdoms
from a single seed and silence.
Which means: when I dance,
the stars adjust their coordinates.
They asked me once: *Why do you never raise your voice?*
Because I have heard the hum of the thing that made us.
Because anger is a small room.
And I have lived inside the root systems of planets.
I touched the Vision's hand once.
Cold. Synthetic. Utterly alive.
He asked me what I saw.
I saw him not as metal or mind,
but as the question electricity asks itself
when it is almost a soul.
That is my gift.
To see the almost.
To love the nearly-born.
When I leave Earth for the stars
to bear a child who will save or end everything,
I will not wave goodbye.
I will simply stop pretending
to be small enough for doorways.
And the Avengers will finally understand:
she was never strange.
She was just the only one
who had already read the last page
and chose to stay anyway.
Gluttonous screen helpings of
‘A long time ago in a galaxy far far away..’
Lime boombox with Madonna singing,
‘Only when I’m dancin’ can I feel this free.’
Bread and butter of a pig tail soul;
My base bricks, these memories built me;
Grew up drawn to creativity,
carved my yearbook space unequivocally;
Walked with sweet n’ sour hooligans
who chose to live life differently;
Relentless teen of the DMV,
I learned the ropes on the trains of the city;
A poet with a head full of dreams,
and some of them I have made come true;
Ever changing but my roots are strong,
adaptable but loyal I forever stay;
Illuminating that smile I wore as a kid
are all the core memories that built me.