Long Mantle Poems
Long Mantle Poems. Below are the most popular long Mantle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mantle poems by poem length and keyword.
When you’re in charge of something,
It’s prepared the way you like.
The past few years, I’ve hosted
A poetic open-mic.
It’s through a group of teachers
And we hold it once a year.
Attendees vary – just a few
Or thirty may appear.
I always planned a writing drill
To get folks in the mood.
It broke the ice and worked its charm
On even those subdued.
We then went ‘round the circle
Sharing what we had produced.
Supportive comments always helped
To give a welcome boost.
Today I’ll be attending
But I will not run the show.
I’m curious to witness
How the afternoon will go.
It may be an improvement
Or not worthy of acclaim
For the passing of the mantle means
It won’t be quite the same.
I first fell in love with baseball back when I was 8 yrs old when I went to a Yankee game and was very fortunate to have gotten to see the great Mickey Mantle play. It was a school class trip, and the highlight of the trip was when Mantle hit a foul ball and my classmate that was sitting right next to me had the ball in his hands but couldn't hold onto it and some guy a few rows down ended up getting the ball. He was totally bummed as you can imagine. But it wasn't until the Mets won the world series when I truly became a fan of baseball and a fan of the Metropolitans. Since 69' the only games I think I missed were the games off air, maybe a handful of others but not many. One of the great games I witnessed was back on September 2, 1972. The Mets were at Houston, and it was the top of the eight when the Mets came up to the plate down 0-8. I was watching the game with my dad, and I told him they were done. He said I'll bet you a nickel that they come back and win. I naturally knew my chances were very good to win so I upped the wager to a quarter (back then that was the most I was allowed to bet- dad's rules)- he accepted my offer. Well, sure enough I lost my first bet of my life, the Mets actually came back to win that game by a score of 11-8. To this day it's the biggest late inning comeback in franchise history and I was one of the lucky ones to have witnessed it
my father bet me
the greatest come-back ever
I lost a quarter
Aching
aching deep within
reaching out beyond the veil
never forgotten
All Aboard
body and soul combine
for the ride of a lifetime –
no return tickets
Am I me
I think I am me
I think, therefore, I am me
I am me I think
Astral Womb
astral absorption
blends life continually -
soul's evolution
Bloodless Bond
born not of Mother
parent of necessity
destiny fulfilled
Coming up Trumps
sharing true friendship
noisily expelling gas
no inhibitions
Conception
blending of spirits
natures nectar decanted
life's vessel refilled
Deep Silence
deep silence roars out -
in straining to catch whispers
no one can hear it
Destiny
deep thunder rumbling
silence envelopes the land
destiny draws near
Empty Noise
dry branches snapping
summer glory now faded
still tries to impress
Eternal Moments
past, future, present
moments form eternity
time stays forever
Eternity Beckons
body discarded
spirit struggling upwards -
too late to grow wings
Eternity
union of birth
individualism
union of death
Free Spirit
thundering of hoofs
freedom’s stampede of delight -
spirit unbroken
Insight
foggy perception
clarity of direction
avenues open
Night Fright
cloud creeps across moon
night whispers it's mysteries
concealed in darkness
Pendulum of Life
living in boredom
soul screams for activity
turmoil requires rest
Pendulum’s Swing
regularity
exist in cloud cuckoo land
life's pendulum swings
Pendulum’s Ride
enjoy all the ups
enjoy the extremities
enjoy all the downs
Post Mortem
Going through the veil -
Once life’s journey is a tale
Did your faith prevail
Self Pity
beyond human sight
loved ones find eternal joy
why does my soul ache
Time for Time
life's pathways beckon
moments joined into ages
cloaked by time's mantle
Time’s Call
friends not forgotten
re-union approaches
time's pathway beckons
True Vision
though vision is clear
perception can be blinded –
truth is in the soul
Senyru:
Perception
perception
is reality
apparent
Poets Write
poets write
spilling blood as ink
makes one think
Ivor G Davies ©
An old man plods slowly down the rutted middle
Of an ancient dusty country lane, unmindful of his steps.
His calloused sandaled feet know the way,
As he has trodden this path to market for decades,
Or centuries perhaps,
He no longer tries, or cares, to remember.
Time has lost all meaning.
Bowed beneath the heavy weight of years and toil,
He wears the mantle of his life,
Not proudly as he once did in his hopeful youth,
But now the way he bears his cumbersome burden
Of broken limbs and sticks and twigs,
With a resigned and weary sadness as immutable and maimed
As the arthritic stumps and knees of old cypress trees,
Or countless other old withered and withering men
Like him.
Author's note: This piece, dear readers, was inspired by "Man with a Sack of Wood", a sketch by Vincent van Gogh.
Peasants of the Playbook
You’re peasants of the playbook
Yet you think you know the reason
For the failure of the team
That does the best it can this season
And, massing in the mews
You’ve raised the mewl to a mew
Questioning the mastery
Of a coach as good as two
By what method do you meter
The mettle of this man
He coaches and he councils
And he does the best he can
With material you’ve provided
He’s positioned at the mandrel
Where he hammers out their character
It’s more than you could handle
Your mantle flounces flutter
When subjected to such folly
Your seething is better served
If you’d support the coach, by golly
It’s then we’ll see the sextant
Guide the gridiron guild to glory
And add a happy chapter
To this teams’ historic story
Through solstice of cycles, time's pageant greets
a year with springtime quilting a floral crochet,
meandering on a lattice of verdant woodlands
as my Taurus-essence radiates in dazzling splendor...
until in a raw flush, August blazes to flame
a mantle of summer's raw passion; red as jeweled
moonlight brushing torrid flesh in love,
in a heat varnished by undulating sea-waves
through a sweetened curl of a kiss.
Gently, the breeze transforms into minty froth
reflecting the crisp strains of autumnal glow,
when fabric of trees reverses its pattern
from cerise to pale tangerine settling on lane
of reflection, of contentment: and night tucks
a shawl of yin and yan quietude, as if moments
rise and accept the slow exposure
from winter's imperial reign: flakes drifting
in a dance of mild rainstorm and glistened hail,
while my heart awaits Yule's birthing... a circle
of life's seasons embracing the wonder of my world.
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4/08/216
Seasons Contest of Shadow Hamilton
I lifted myself as though I were made of light,
Walking proudly upon the skin of the earth,
Blinded by the arrogance of unlearned ways,
Stumbling forward, deaf to the voice of wisdom,
Living as if life itself bowed to my command.
But with each step, unseen vines clung to me,
Clouds gathered, the heavens tore with lightning,
A single bolt split the trembling ground,
The ancestors’ fury set the soil ablaze,
And I watched the lamp of life dim into night.
One heavy evening I closed my weary eyes,
And sleep swept me into visions,
Not dreams, but the deep ancestral kind,
Drawing me into the dark belly of the ocean,
Where unseen beings circled in the silence,
Their breath purifying the air around my soul.
They touched me with truth wrapped in tenderness,
Unfolding the teachings that shape a life,
Washing away the stains of forgotten ages,
Revealing the secret architecture of strength,
Unearthing mysteries long buried in dust.
A fresh page opened gently before me,
A new purpose written in lines of light,
A glimpse of tomorrow shining clear as dawn;
And new eyes were gifted to me,
Eyes that pierce the veiled, hidden places.
I rose adorned in a mantle of glory,
I rose bearing the quiet power to heal,
And at daybreak I awoke unbound, renewed,
A creature born a second time.
My voice transformed,
My tongue sharpened with truth and breath,
And so I walk this world,
Reborn.
Caught in the fabric of darkness, where stars crown the ages,
You wander through the deserts of oblivion, with a flickering torch in semi-darkness.
You tread on paths unknown to the footprint of man, a guardian of mysteries,
The wind whispers secrets to you over the ocean of thoughts, revealing hidden treasures.
The night becomes an anthem, a symphony of silence that ascends in the cosmos,
Scenting the ether with lunar rays, blossoming with violet flames and silver murmurs.
You are a witness to ephemeral revelations, a choir that weaves time with divinity,
A keeper of tranquility in this unshakable sea, anchored among the waves of stars.
You hold the key to unwritten secrets, in the depths of the astral-adorned sky,
A traveler of the Milky Way, in the light that births altars of honor and sincerity.
Your trembling light lets astral whispers slide upon your shoulders, recounting your saga.
And you step through the silent portal, where silence guards the eternal resting place.
Cloaked in the celestial mantle, sewn from the uninterrupted flow of rotating stars,
You wonder in the sanctuary of the universe, with a heart burdened with questions, why does night reign?
A comet flies amidst your dreams, and in your eyes, galaxies intertwine their destinies,
Your verses flow gently, like a river of pure light, where time does not leave its mark.
The horizon transforms into a cosmic cathedral, starlight becomes your secret altar,
In the vastness of this interval, you and the night are an echo, a mysterious song.
Under the canopy of the starry sky, with the soul of an explorer, in eternal and endless search,
You breathe the celestial dream, this ode to the universe, in forgotten twilight, and you are in the night, understood and lived.
In the corner of the sky, the sunset weaves its fiery mantle,
Write, poet, write, traveler among the waves of time,
Stars extinguish and are reborn in the eternal dance of the universe,
Write as if you were a prisoner of fate, with a heart between the bars of longing.
The governor of destiny is gone, pardon is a shattered dream,
Write as if you were on the edge of a cliff, above the abyss of oblivion,
White fingers from effort, breathing heavily, with your soul on its knees,
You have one last word to say, one last cry for liberation.
Like a bird in flight, hovering above the world, seeing everything,
Eyes open to infinity, tell us something to save us,
To take us out of the labyrinth of our own shadow,
Scribe of falling stars, let the ink flow.
The river of eternity's tears, night unfolds its silk mantle,
The sleeping city, each word a leaf carried by the wind,
The moon reflects in the silent lake of memories,
Each verse a bridge to the heart of a fallen angel.
Write, poet, write, in each letter a spark of magic,
The whisper of eternity, maybe in your words we find the answer,
The light that guides us through the darkness,
Time flows like sand in the hourglass of our unfulfilled dreams.
In each line, the pulse of life, an echo of the universe's heart,
We lose and find ourselves in the infinite dance of the cosmos,
Write, poet, write, let us lose ourselves in the melancholic magic,
Your metaphors, an enchanted mirror, envelop us in mystery.
Perhaps we will learn to save ourselves,
Embrace the shadows, dance under the pale light of the moon,
The stars sing their eternal song, night unfolds its wings,
Angel of melancholy, carrying us to the realms of endless dreams.
They say that good or bad, things happen in 3's, are best.
The Christians know of the Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, there is also the 3 wise men. 3 Monastic Vows (Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience), 3 Feet in a Yard, 3 Books in Lord of the Rings, 3 Ring Circus, 3 Ships of Christopher Columbus, 3 Wheeled Tricycle, 3 Legged Race, 3 Ring Circus, 3 Strikes and You're Out, 3 Is A Crowd, 3 Mile Island, 3 Trimesters in a Pregnancy, 3 Flavors in Neapolitan Ice Cream, 3 To Get Ready (and four to go), 3 Parts To An Atom: protons, neutrons, and electrons, 3 Caloric Sources: Fats, Carbohydrates, Proteins, 3 Primary hues red, green, and blue, 3 Parts to the Personality: Id. Ego, super-ego, 3 Earth Divisions: Core, Mantle, Crust, 3 Rock Formations: Igneous- Metamorphic- Sedimentary, 3 Times A Lady, 3 Minute Egg, 3 Point Basket, 3 Holes in a Bowling Ball, 3 Colors in a Traffic light, 3 Minutes in a Boxing Round, 3 Teaspoons in a Tablespoon--The Truth, The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth--Of the People, By the People, For the People--Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness--Hear no Evil, See no Evil, Speak no Evil--Paper, Rock, Scissors--The Good, the Bad and the Ugly--Small, Medium and Large--Ready, Aim, Fire--On Your Mark, Get Set, Go--Stop, Look and Listen--3 Little Pigs, The 3 Bears, 3 Course Meals, Appetizer, Main Course, Dessert--3 Blind Mice, 3 clover leaves, Beginning, Middle and Ending, Tripod, Troubles Comes In 3, Trident, Bermuda Triangle, Triplets, Trios--Stop, Drop and Roll--Veni, vidi, vici "I came, I saw, I conquered"-- The Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present, and The Ghost of Christmas Future--Insult, Injustice, and Exploitation--segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever--blood, sweat, and tear--In a Will, I Give, Devise and Bequeath--Leave them laughing, and them hoping, and them wanting for more--Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None,
..."So, I will conclude, for I've lost you since from the third word in."
Date 09/08/2019