Long Mantlepiece Poems
Long Mantlepiece Poems. Below are the most popular long Mantlepiece by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mantlepiece poems by poem length and keyword.
I was born to sail.
I can hear whispers of the ocean calling me,
but there are no tides upon this mantlepiece.
I cannot set sail, trapped in this glass cocoon,
collecting dust.. I am no resting place for flies.
Eyes gaze at me in wonderment,
at the patience and precision of my imprisonment,
unaware my masts are raised.... Waiting,
for the seal to break and set me free upon open waters.
In the confinement of my stillness,
I remain poised for this fortress to shatter.
This shield may preserve my charm,
but its glass walls prevent a voyage of purpose,
where I can feel the breeze and
admire my reflection on waves.
Municipal Bills and Elon Musk
Driving down from my eyrie, I write to sound learned while the extent of my education was as a cook in the merchant navy and often thrown ashore in mystic harbors as a fabulist
I thought since there was no proof of god's existence, regarded among the intellectuals as a pastime
Subject I still would like to know who is in charge of rainbows! I would like to know,
if he is an artist, why he used the same colors last time I checked. there were seven, perhaps a broader spectrum will live things up like a weekly show
at six o'clock
I once saw a rainbow, soaking wet, over a waterfall and was miserable, and since
it just hung there, it had no ending, and therefore lacked the promise
of economic bliss
I sent Elon an email the other day kidding him
he took offense, you see
he found the crock of gold all by himself, and now he is trying to find something worthwhile to do with his spare time, like going to Mars and saving humanity
At the bottom of that hill, I crossed a bridge beyond the land, which was sparse and dry
the few Palestinians were allowed to live in tents provided they wore traditional dress when tourists came around they were the rest of a nation stolen and the people eradicated, but the few who survived were taken good care of I had forgotten the water bill on the mantlepiece, just as well
the next war will be about water.
Morning with snow
It had been a cold, clear night, moonlight on icy soil
towards dawn, it clouded over, snow fell soundlessly
shielded the glittering glass of broken windows
In the backyard made the ugly look eerily lovely
Worried about his wife, went into her bedroom, they
had long since shared a bed, she was asleep tired out
she had been hanging up family photos of the past.
She had asked him if she had changed much, referring
to a coloured picture, on the mantlepiece, of herself
as young, not much, darling, he gave her a hug; at eighty
she was looking back as the future has little to offer.
The residence building awoke, voices, a new day began.
i'm talking world war three blues
and how the baubles resemble the planet neptune
one kid has trashed the grotto
flameless LED tea light candles on the mantlepiece
another exclaims, 'can we stop talking and just take
the photo?'
a girl says she wants a telescope
a boy says he wants a crane
another says a fraggle stick car
helicopter parent and coo coo bonko
my daughter doesn't recognise me
tears of a clown stuff
a kid claims the beard is fake and i say, 'look...',
i tell a family from germany
we can take a hundred photos, i don't mind,
i will get the son that red double-decker bus
you're wonderful people
they leave
the boss pokes his head round the door and says,
'brilliant, boy.'
...“ ‘I used to love talking with friends,
they gave such meaning to my life,
but after watching them all die…
it no longer makes my eyes bright.
“ ‘I’ve loved women of every type,
indulged in every sort of sex,
from passionate to quite depraved,
yet now, more and more, I neglect.
“ ‘I used to the love to read the words
of the greatest minds of mankind,
now I’ve learned all the arguments,
wisdom no longer seems sublime.
“ ‘I used to want to lead people
down a path both gilded and true,
but I’ve seen all people can build,
there’s nothing left to me that’s new.
“ ‘The people call me ‘the Deathless,’
and that is why I have no tears,
all that can happen I have seen,
so nothing brings joy or brings fear.
“ ‘Once I thought that I was like God,
Jesus was sent to save our souls,
and I was sent to save this world,
but all of that was just ego.
“ ‘The truth is, I feel nothing Chin,
time has stripped all of it away,
man should not live a thousand years,
and I no longer want to stay.
“ ‘When each day just becomes a blur,
when years seem like nothing but weeks,
it’s not the future that you crave,
it’s some sort of final relief.
“ ‘That’s why it’s hard to ask of you
what I am requesting right now,
the people won’t understand it,
they’ll hate you as much is allowed.
“ ‘But if you truly want to serve,
to do one great thing for your liege,
there is one place where I can die,
where the spine meets the skull, you see.
“ ‘Take that knife from the mantlepiece,
strike hard and strike deep, my good friend,
I’m begging you to end my life
so I can feel human again.’ “
Of course then Chin hesitated,
how could he not at this request?
But Guiscard’s eyes showed emptiness,
too tired to plead for death.
So Chin did what was asked of him,
the Emperor died with a smile,
and Chin never revealed all this
at his circus of a trial.
He trusted it only with me,
and with me, for now, it remains,
the people are not ready yet,
the truth of it would just cause pain.
Since they still build the man’s statues,
mourn the loss the date of his death,
would they accept what I would say?
I don’t think they are quite there yet.
But one day I must make it known,
despite any blowback of rage,
since Guiscard’s kids are all alive,
and not one of them seems to age…
When I was young and in my prime,
I knew I’d be famous one day.
Although I hadn’t worked out how,
I was quite sure I’d find a way.
I’d play cricket or football for England
And win the World Cup again.
Then win an Olympic gold medal
And become a household name
Or maybe I’d be an actor,
A star of stage and screen,
With a mantlepiece full of Oscars
And be knighted by the Queen.
But now I’m old and past my prime
And none of those things have occurred.
Outside of my own little circle,
My name has never been heard.
But, when the final curtain falls
And the mourners have drifted away,
I’ll leave the stage with no regrets
At the end of my own little play.
My vacuum cleaner’s broken,
sits in the garage gathering dust
Beside dad’s old green car,
oxidising an orangey rust
I tried washing it last week,
and the water turned to wine
Well the colour miraculously looks,
venetian turpentine
World weary in a dusty brain,
contemplating null dividends
Doubtful the universe grew from zero,
to mere accidental existence
I’m never sure of anything,
other than opening up my eyes
When intelligence outsmarts evolution,
worlds of meaninglessness arrives
Nothing ventured everything gained,
the cosmos just gave and came
Dust clumped together,
galaxies burst forth into flame
No blueprint just chaos,
serendipity’s our only friend
Instructions out the window,
laws of physics can’t comprehend
Anyway God created us,
a few millennia after we made him
Mankind needed order,
to rid an infernal world of sin
I mean who’d hold faith in dust,
when all is said and done
Well some of us actually do,
on the mantlepiece in an urn
Yeah I’m full of bull, this
agnostic needs little imagination
I’m wasting space on the fence,
making these observations
I watch dust versus crosses,
and a universe going bust
Neurons keep me company,
as my brain churns out mush
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
01/12/22 rhyme form
She searched for faith in disbelief. The Buddha on the mantlepiece
had taken off his loincloth over night and stared her in the naked eye.
A candle from last night’s prayer still flickered and the fragrance of
sandalwood had survived nightmares and irreverent dreams. A mouse
had left some droppings at the base of the statue, must have sought
shelter from the rat race of life. ‘Never hurt a sentient being’. In her
mind Mary Magdalene had kissed the fat belly and in turn her cross had
abandoned its punitive lure.
found peace in disguise
blessing of awakening -
long road to freedom
07th July 2020
Looking through frosted glass of windows' sorrowed pain I who
Reflects upon the frozen condensation in the shelter of my mind
Delight that there are crystals on the panel which refract the joy
On the grace bestowed upon me by hindsight observation glare
I do not always have to see what takes place behind the screen of
Time and reason well beyond my grasp and am contained within
The wind brushes against the frame outside and yet holds firm
Its paint has flaked but still reveals the layers of abundant paint
Where coats of varnish cover ageing primers glossing over fissures
Hinges are in need of rust converter and some lubricant although
A bit of grinding jambs on closure reminds me that I hear the sound
That reaches feelings and emotions when my moods begin to jar
I marvel at the crack that gives a certain kind of resilient contours
Which shaped my seasoned soul and tested skills and renovation
So far eluded the need for triple glazing double vision and repair
A spider though renewed its work and spun a web from musky curtains
To shutters up and down and weaved a fragile net quite unperturbed
Flies have lost their battle and I am grateful that I have not been caught
There was temptation to wipe the slate and surface clean and polish
Instead I take crayons out of the box and scribble on adjoining walls
I watch the canvass unfold and listen to the sound of scripted passion
Very soon what is called graffiti or artistic pleasure gives an easy glimpse
Into my heart soul and innermost desires careful not to hold my breath
Keeps some distance though because my exhalation could disturb the scene
Dusk settles quickly and I pull up my socks and wrap up in a knitted blanket
Put another log on the fire to kindle warmth and thoughts among the cold
The candle on the mantlepiece flickers kindly and grants a soft glow evermore
Looking through a frosted glass enhances rather than obscures all of my senses
Gives me the precious freedom to decide which side I'm on when evening falls
Now I can smell the crispy touch and taste of verglas and look out for silence
31st March 2020
The cat sat on the mat
The mat sat on the floor
The budgie's on the mantlepiece
The dog is by the door
I'm sitting in the armchair
Feeling ill at ease
The dog has started scratching
I think that He's got fleas
I take him in the bathroom
I put him in the tub
Run some lukewarm water
And give him a good scrub
I've got some doggy shampoo
It's really got some clout
It gets a real good lather
And the buggers all fall out
Rinse him off and dry him
And sit him by the heat
Go into the kitchen
And get him food to eat
Nearly time for sleep now
There's one thing that I dread
If the dog has still got fleas
Do I want him on the bed ?