Long Michael Poems
Long Michael Poems. Below are the most popular long Michael by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Michael poems by poem length and keyword.
Written in response to traveling west on a highway facing the sun setting behind dark gray clouds
Come ride into life's uncertain sunset
Where dark clouds may accumulate with dread
Sun's only peeking through mostly ordained
Giving life those moments when with wingspread
One soars in the presence of the Son's love
Feeling His voice tenderly saying come
Feast at my table of gifts tasty, Dove
Focus your eyes upon my beauty some
Ride to life's sunset whatever circumstance
It may present, hold my hand_understand
This is new ground for me_hope accrescence
In love of mankind for heading to promise land
Uncertain skies streaked with gray, sun at bay
Love can lift, sustain, ingrain us for day!
accrescence means growth, continous growth
Click on About This Poem
Sponsor: Michael Falotico
Contest:No Nams On This Love Contest
(A lone voice whispers)
Some Antenoraians
Pray
In uneven straight lines
With a new Caiphas
The dark priest
In the Lost City of Dis
In The Far East
For the world
To taste
A Malebolge sour kiss
The Sowers of Scandal
Living spiritually
By The Great Lake of Cocytus
The hidden gateway to a soulless Judecca
The dark wells of fire and ice
To their God
Who pays with gold
In the form of desire
Only to entrap those into sin
As the Great Battle
Continues
Into eternity
As angels
Of Light
Led by Michael
Slowly
Win
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Foundation of the piece.
No matter how dark it seems. There is always hope.
To Mr. Michael, Bard of Theatrical Yearning,
Your words, like ivy, wind and wind — ornate, impassioned, almost divine.?But I write now with a quieter pen, one that bleeds not drama but truth again.
You call me complacent — a muse asleep??Dear sir, I have only grown quiet to keep?From drowning in tides too high, too fast,?Where your feelings arrive dressed in velvet and masks.
I do not miss the romance, oh no —?I see it in spades in your letter’s flow.?Your charm, your wit, your desperate fire?Could set a room — or a theater — entire?Ablaze with sighs. But is it me you seek??Or the thrill of the line, the applause you tweak?
You jest and gesture, you pine and pose,?With metaphors grand and poetic throes.?Yet when I crave the man, not the play,?You vanish behind the roles you portray.
I’ve not been unmoved — I’ve been overwhelmed,?As if love were a ship, and you at the helm?Would rather paint storms than steer us home,?Sailing in circles through froth and foam.
I do not need sonnets or grand design —?Just you — uncostumed, unpolished, plain-spine.?Tell me your fears, not your fables or plays.?Let’s talk like two souls who’ve walked real days.
I treasure your heart, your laughter, your flame,?But love is not born of performance or fame.?It’s patience. It’s presence. It’s pause and breath —?Not a whirlwind courtship staged near death.
So here I am, not lost, nor cold —?But tired of tales so lush and bold?They leave no room for quiet truth.?I do not need a knight in youth,?But a partner who can sit and stay —?Not just enchant, then flit away.
If you wish a union, as you say you do,?Meet me not in sonnets — but simply in you.
Yours in thought,?
Ms. Crane
Note: This is a sequel to “December 3, 2000” by a dear poetic friend. Please go check out his wonderful poem for context.
They're great scorers, undeniably true
So many thrilled to their game-winning shots
Made millions off the game, and Nike shoes
Projected diplomatic personas ---
they were anything but
Michael Jordan, 6 Rings, Greatest of All Time
A trash-talker, who spewed venom and slime
Kobe Bryant, 'the assassin,' apologized for sexual assault
Confessed what he'd done, yet admitted 'no fault'
Both were driven to greatness, couldn't stand to lose
A path fraught with danger, whenever abused
Jordan turned to gambling; Kobe suffered no fools
With their fame and their fortunes, they could play fast with the rules
Charles Barkley, Jordan's rival, observed, "Heroes, we ain't!"
~ Consider it well, before anointing Kobe Bryant a saint
in-flight convergence
by Michael R. Burch
serene, almost angelic,
the lights of the city extend
over lumbering behemoths
shrilly screeching displeasure
they say:
that nothing is certain,
that nothing man dreams or ordains
long endures his command
here the streetlights that flicker
and those blazing steadfast
seem one: from a distance;
descend?
they abruptly
part ways
so that nothing is one
which at times does not suddenly blend
into garish insignificance
in the familiar alleyways,
in the white neon flash
and the billboards of Convenience
and man seems the afterthought of his own Brilliance
as we thunder down the enlightened runways
Emily Dickinson: Drove He Knew Haste
It was like a day like no other,
a day like so many before this,
college bell rang like a high school bell,
a bell like so many that bother.
Cornelius a friend, Bethany,
his friend, Tyra her friend, then there's Schell,
everybody's friend, and of course Mike,
he is the driver with a bad knee.
He revs the engine, repaid with stares,
he backs up into a bush and bike,
scars his frame, the bike is his brother
gives the once over, shows that he cares.
Driving hastily, Tyra then scream,
Michael look on, car roll in a stream,
Corn, Beth, and Ty, all in a wet dream,
Whilst Mike, Schell and I, all swim downstream.
2020 February 19
Rhyme Scheme;
abca, dced, feaf, hhhh,
Howmanysyllables;
16 lines x 9 syllables per = 144 syllables total
Your face is ever before me
like a painting etched in sky
as the dusk of dawn approaches
still seeking the reasons why
I would set upon your head a crown
before you would I bow
with affection would I clothe you
if knew I only how
Every sight of you is pleasure
your voice to me a song
every feeling within that's stored up
to be empty of it wrong
Never have eyes seen so much
stored in a well of man
fought have I with resistance
It's course for me unplanned
The mountains into the valley slide
the path of which you spake
to empty there every river
like the fig in wind does shake
My ear has heard its calling
like angels in the wind
the words of a heart falling
to reason its amend
Every note has played its key
upon us did aria descend
the chords of exultation
a song can none pretend
Every key has its own note
every scale its own cry
every sound of truth you hear
will every lie defy
You are my beloved one
none can you replace
in every place I seek you
to have my eyes upon your face
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
I, Too, Sing America (and did so in my diapers!)
by Michael R. Burch
I, too, served my country,
first as a tyke, then as a toddler, later as a rambunctious boy,
growing up on military bases around the world,
making friends only to leave them,
saluting the flag through veils of tears,
time and time again ...
In defense of my country,
I too did my awesome duty –
cursing the Communists,
confronting Them in backyard battles where They slunk around disguised as my sniggling Sisters,
while always demonstrating the immense courage
to start my small life over and over again
whenever Uncle Sam called ...
Building and rebuilding my shattered psyche,
such as it was,
dealing with PTSD (preschool traumatic stress disorder)
without the adornments of medals, ribbons or epaulets,
serving without pay,
following my father’s gruffly barked orders,
however ill-advised ...
A true warrior!
Will you salute me?
I hope my “small” attempt at humor will help readers remember the sacrifices made by the spouses, children and extended families of our valiant servicemen and women. It was not easy making friends only to lose them, time and time again, as I grew up a “military brat” on American air bases around the globe. I really did make sacrifices for my country, while winning every battle against the “communists” in our back yard.
Keywords/Tags: Memorial Day, military brat, service, war, duty, honor, heroism, soldiers, army, navy, air force, marines, child, childhood, children
Songstress
by Michael R. Burch
for Nadia Anjuman
Within its starkwhite ribcage, how the heart
must flutter wildly, O, and always sing
against the pressing darkness: all it knows
until at last it feels the numbing sting
of death. Then life's brief vision swiftly passes,
imposing night on one who clearly saw.
Death held your bright heart tightly, till its maw?
envenomed, fanged?could swallow, whole, your Awe.
And yet it was not death so much as you
who sealed your doom; you could not help but sing
and not be silenced. Here, behold your tomb's
white alabaster cage: pale, wretched thing!
But you'll not be imprisoned here, wise wren!
Your words soar free; rise, sing, fly, live again.
Nadia Anjuman Herawi (Nadja Anjoman) was a talented young Afghani poet who died at age 25 under highly suspicious circumstances. What were her crimes? To be a woman and dare to be a poet? To speak her unmanacled mind freely? To become an advocate and spokesperson for women like herself?women who loved literature so much they risked death by reading censored writers right beneath the snoutlike noses of the Taliban? Ireland may have hurt Yeats into writing poetry, but Ireland didn't kill him for having the talent and audacity to be published. And while it may not be possible to say Anjuman's position and stature as an acclaimed female Muslim poet directly brought about her death, the mere fact that such an eventuality seems plausible should give the world pause.
Three Popes died within six years
I wonder if what killed them
were the sum of their fears
Could the cause be what they
covered or uncovered
The bible speaks of kings
who's wickedness God discovered
Historically their causes
were just and awed
But Heaven alone judges
the guilt of it's laws
It took six years to stop
the naming of angels
And the most we don't know
because of their angle
So just for the record
I'll untangle the tangle
Nine angels minus two
so scholars can tango
Michael the warrier
"Who is like God"
Gabriel the messenger
"Powerful Man of God"
Raphael who sometimes stirred
a pool
"The Healing of God"
Uriel Who protected John the Baptist
during Herod's wicked rule
"The Light or Fire of God"
Salaphiel
"The Prayers and Communication of God"
Jegudiel
"The Glory and Praise of God"
Barachiel leader of guardian angels
"The Benediction and Blessing of God"
Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Principalities
Powers, Archangels posses
Cherubim and Seraphim
are even Angels none the less
( A few riddles included )