Long Masquerade Poems
Long Masquerade Poems. Below are the most popular long Masquerade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Masquerade poems by poem length and keyword.
DESPERATE
Would it be right to be desperate for what is already yours?
For when you least expect you shall open doors
Why betray your family and friends
And make them blue
Lured by lust and greed to what you don’t want to do
The masquerade must dance last
While not wait for what is yet to come
Rather than what will come to past
Would it be right to be desperate and crave for less
When a dog that is patience gets all that is bless
I shall never be desperate for love
Because true love is sent from above
I shall never be desperate for money
Because I don’t want to get in to something funny
I shall never be desperate for power
Because my status may change by the hour
I shall never be desperate for you
Unless I am sure that your love is true
I shall never be desperate for fame
Because already the world knows my name
I shall never be desperate for music
Because you can make melodies with sticks
If you know how to use it
I shall never be desperate for position
Unless I am the right one for that mission
I shall never be desperate for children
For when it is time I shall be the one to raise them
Time and chance will determine your fate
Be that as it may let us not be in haste
I shall never sell my birth right in the morning to a cat on a plate
And cry in the evening when it is too late
I shall never be desperate for knowledge
Unless I am sure it will be useful outside college
Beware of the fool’s gold
And be content with all that you hold
For what you have could be sold
For nothing in return
You have been told
"And Today's Special is Wine and Cheese"
Some wine and cheese
If you would please
Depressed, I cannot express myself for I’m being oppressed and repressed
Yet, I reside in the west, my lines are treated as an unwelcome guest
I’ve ornamented ideas that will go unheard
Reading them will be seen as a vulture transcribed word
“A Stale Birthday Cake,” could be submitted
But a lot of terms are not permitted
If I leave those texts out to describe my rage
It might as well be written in the stone age
Here’s an example, “ , ” substantial white noise is found on this page
“The Penetralia Ruby Queen,” hint, the anatomy
But, is there no shame, outcry, how dare I, the audacity
It conveys about some person with a dancing nymph’s fantasy
But it altercates against the morals of Christianity
Here’s an example, “ , ” undeniably excommunicated for blasphemy
The villainous bark, scream, “Cultures Dark Theme”
It’s something written from a nightmare’s dream
If submitted, it would drive the masses into insanity
Yet, this piece of work prohibits the usage of profanity
Here’s an example, “ , ” silenced because others must be spared of its inhumanity
“The World’s Playground” still waiting to see if it gets banned
Negligent in comprehending the rules beforehand
The lyrics uses a word to describe a person who gets paid
In an ideal world, I could just switch the rhyme to being laid
Here’s an example, “ ,” my apologies for the cross realm alabaster masquerade
Finally, “Unzipped Apple Core,” was written as a rant indeed
Bitten by the fire ant, I was hoping it would supplant a seed
But apparently the flying monkey festival has everyone strapped to a ticking time bomb
Another useless firework display to a bromide poem, so turn the page to end this sitcom
The doctor said, "Take this. It will cure the social disease”
So, for my last supper please, I would like some wine and cheese
Updated 5/14/2019
Form:
I lay down my thoughts like an endless river, as the sun sifts light at dawn,
I wish for you to smile, untouched by memories, without my heavy shadow, without the burden.
I see you walking down the old street in the sun, with ice cream melting on your fingers,
Among those who never doubted you, with eyes lit by untouched dreams.
I gave up the dream where I held you, in the crowd that whispered about us.
Perhaps it wasn't them, perhaps I was the executioner, my prayers, empty recitations.
I wonder if you would have met me, before life's masquerade ball,
What chance did a tall rose have, with a lotus blooming in murky waters?
Could your grace have transformed the swamp into a garden of shining stars?
Would your winds have carried the scent into my silent and deep ruin?
Or would my world carved from you have stained your soul's brilliance,
With the rust of unprotected things? How would your pure light shine in shattered mirrors?
Perhaps in a kinder life, you will find someone unafraid of your light,
Whose ruins know how to bloom, not bruise under my weight.
And if I am reborn in that hour, I will remain a shadow, watching you smile, from afar.
All this is a masquerade.
Everyone’s hiding behind their masks…
Words are easily written, but they can pretend
letting others believe in rainbows
…when in reality,
tempests are the norm, hounding their souls
All this is a masquerade
An air of indifference
is all he exudes
when inside his emotions are molten
Never quite knowing how to reveal himself
his mask full of thorns, broken
All this is a masquerade
And there she glows
with a light about her
When inside she is black as tar
Her mask crumbles, she hastens to touch it up
but the darkness within starts to seep through the cracks
All this is a masquerade
People never do show their true selves
Hiding behind masks, masking words to hide
Words are easily spoken,
emotions can be under pretense
The cynic can be a hypocrite
and the hypocrite is a cynic
All this is a masquerade.
07212011342p400
for Nette's It's Mask Time contest
She wondered if she deserved it
That slap on the face
Had she stepped out of line
To deserve such a disgrace
She chided herself again
For letting feelings show
She thought that she was safe
But how was she to know
That life was a masquerade
And she always got the blame
Though others played as well
She always lost the game
She wondered if this time
She’d get pushed over the edge
She stood there for some time
Wanted to fly off that ledge
She seemed to be tough and strong
But inside fragile and frail
She had tried to end it once
But it had been to no avail
And now she came full circle
And cursed her foolish heart
She wanted to scream and cry
Of the world she’d have no part
She’d come out of her shell
Only to be abused
Maybe she’d crawl back in
She refused to be used
It was never a good thing
To wear her heart on her sleeve
Now she was left with anger
All that she could do was grieve
The lesson that she had learned
She would carry to her grave
Never let your feelings show
To your reason be a slave
As she wiped away her tears
She felt her weak heart harden
Only God could help her now
She needed grace to pardon
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I stand here weeping, alone, and numb
in this opaque light. The visitors have left-
my masquerade of acceptance, with them.
Their words of comfort did hypnotize me-
for a while- with smiles, even some laughter-
friends, family- looking to mix and catch up,
making it feel like a reunion party-
milling, shaking hands- hugging, kissing.
They're gone. Now, this painful reality rules.
I kneel here forlorn, bereft, in front of you-
one hand on the dark mahogany veneer
of your everlasting, lifeless resting place-
the other on your cold, once-loving, hands
that held and comforted me with warmth.
I bend to kiss your lips- caress your cheek.
Oh, death, you slipped in like a silent thief.
The sky suddenly turns blue-ebony
and matches the deep, dark obscurity
in my soul- and my shattered heart crumbles-
as I walk away to now face life- after the party.
May 28, 2017
Contest: The Clearing
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
You promise me, I promise you
expectation
fulfillment
the things that we will do
The promise of a new day
contradiction for sure
there is no guarantee
our world will endure
We are filled with promise
said when we are young
potential to realize
a new song unsung
I think of all the ways
a promise can be made
and for one there’s no escape
and no masquerade
Vows I’ve made to myself
I must not betray
to be a better person
than I was yesterday
So often I do fail
in my noble quest
I could be more kind
less selfish, my best
Yet, as I walk and contemplate
how I will comply
I can’t know I’ll succeed
but I promise that I’ll try
Mirrors don't lie about frank and ernest portrayal...
Especially when giving cheeky badass
blemished physiognomic reflection
tricking me seeing displeasing likeness
Matthew Scott Harris, a grown lad brandishing
his treasured invisible cutlass
poised to strike, (where spiderlines
instantaneously provoked, webbed,
and frankly zapped shattering experience),
whereby yours truly
rendered unconscious to any pass
hubble gratefully dead singed hair zombie
straight away befriending image with him
aforementioned christened human biomass,
hence explains personal objection (mine)
devoid of any sass
sneaking a peek at (regarding employing
cute antiquated, quaint word) looking glass.
Feeble effort, butta lemme attempt to apprise
ye dear reader, how gasping
at me selfsame visual simulation spurs cries
and whispers with shrieks of horror
inexplicable nauseating revulsion jars myopic eyes
espying even willow the wisp gallivanting guise
think mine glassy doppelganger blithely
traipsing, tooling tiptoeing no lies
hands down acquiring masquerade ball door prize
if nothing else... try getting a fleeting rise
of humoresque judicious metaphorical
sucker puncheon the gut against self I satirize
February twenty third perhaps lame effort
to affect seeming witty and wise.
Mailer daemons rule cerebral roost,
whereby gimcrackery invectives loosed,
cuz all during growing up years bullies did boost
inferiority complex hatching adult
egg go self steam goosed
abysmal confidence building accomplishment
ye accurately deduced
charnel, (bilabial) frictional,
infernal... struggle moost
arduous (think Atlas, Sisyphus, plus
ten subsequent Greek mythological Titans) juiced
with eternal divinity upon
whose figurative shoulder humanity papoosed.
The stranger is strange, pariah, leper sounds offbeat,
Neither truculent, nor relevant, all destined to encounter the doomed relic;
The bizarre outlander, alien to stimulate the instant pulse-beats!
The uninvited hobnobber, one despises to welcome in routine frolic.
The stranger is unsolicited, the object of latent fear,
As strange may be the ways of the unbidden ones' intentional cares!
The stranger is unfaithful: weird to tranquility, comfort and cheer,
For the sceptical one, we become anxious by a mere fateful encounter!
The stanger lies in our conscience; in a distant land in paradoxical disguise.
Masquerade, the image generates an uncanny fear to sigh!
Sounds delinquent to subjugate the wires of prudent conscience!
Nonetheless, cogitates as usurper of peace; an ineffable parti pris.
Self-centred, they are loquacious, spell bound like con stars;
Babbles from the masks, camouflages as the epitomes of pretenders.
Unknown, unfamiliar, stirs alarms not to mingle, to be away, to be cautious.
In disguise, comes the alleged stanger to ruin ones' peace to shudder and shatter.
But the most alarming of all preconceived archetypes, are the strangers:
Who lingers on, as routine friends and well wishers,
On whom we doted on, are the real dear strangers,
Who by feigning friends, acted quisling, an obvious stranger!
'Hold!' sometimes left us dumbfounded with their insensible fickle deeds;
Even when the unknown stanger might spare and stand by us in awful needs!
When our intimate ones deny to wink at the distress;
While busy in spilling the beans, our woes go unnoticed by the feigned well-wishers.
Indeed! They are the untagged apparent strangers, fugitives in our trials.
Beware of those strangers, whom we adore as near and dear ones, 'bosom friends,'
the agnates and cognates, to entitle the crown, “an actual stranger" who elopes in tmes of miseries!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
Awareness about behavior,
present since mine days of yore
an unswerving allie analogous
to peacekeeper ending civil war
belated insight suddenly realized
(better late than never) doth underscore
incumbent proactive communication stance
belatedly bestowed omnipotent awareness
crucial fostering ingredient to shore
maternal bond above
bejesus ear splitting roar
I admit regret (to self), there
dost belie suppressed yen to pour
out sorrows 'twixt this sole him son,
and long deceased mother, he
deprived her his love and outwore
the Scottish tartan Harris tweed
welcome (haz) mat, which pained
materialized soon after her death, nor
can compensation be made,
now ex post facto,
when futility of spilt tears got more
gauged and swept away, when
nary a trace I privately cried
amidst lachrymose lakeshore.
20/20 hindsight brought me unflagging mast
into stark painful focus,
essentially how mine
formative behavior wrought avast
dystopian emotional fractured mindscape,
which non positive coping methods
lit fuse kindling devastating catastrophic blast
from yesteryear to present silent woebegone
desolate gloomy terrain past
grandeur eclipsed by present gloom
finds yours truly stranded like cast
away bleached flotsam upon coast
amidst tempestuous rocky shoals
clinging for dear life with grasp fast,
Where tenuous, precarious,
and ludicrous ship
of state can no longer maintain
even a marginal grip
but with slight equip
age willing, wedding,
and wanting brings relief from whip
lashed incurred (within body) showing rip
pulled scarred taut welts testimony, sans
long electrified with aggravation,
excruciation, and intoleration can easily flip
a figurative switch in summary
ushering final lip
service to charade,
facade, and masquerade
at lightspeed didst clip
this...Potemkin Village,
where everything "FAKE,"
asper envisioning flickr
ring mirage recounting ancient Egypt!