Long Millenniums Poems
Long Millenniums Poems. Below are the most popular long Millenniums by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Millenniums poems by poem length and keyword.
Axed dent of circumstances
finds yours truly liberated,
whereby no obligatory constraints
obliges forcible adherence
synchronizing Circadian rhythm
forcibly linkedin within paradigm
minutely crafting, daisy chaining
involuntarily ceding cradle to grave
man made artificial construct
(dismissing one living away
off the gridlock)
co-opting every precious moment
comprising hour quotidian existence
to sustain swiftly styled
harry tailored lifestyle
affording bajillion *****sapiens
luxury to scold frantic scramble,
freedom to scurry frantically
twenty four seven madcap rat race
formerly existing (millenniums ago)
as "noble savage"
ah...remember those glory days
now, grudgingly,
niggardly... unwittingly
compromising pleasant dreams
jarring deeply slumbering
body electric groggily awake
liberty, courtesy alarming wake up
to toil away making dem
big dearly beloved bucks
essentially entering holy grail
searching made more worthwhile
thankless fracas, fray, fraught
pitting one beasty boy against t'other
survival of fittest in overdrive
(Charles Darwin taken aback),
how origin of most ruthless species
went a courtin for dazzling,
jazzy, regal trappings
supposedly to ease
grueling laboring mind numbing
lumpenproletariat, when after
devoting, sacrificing, venerating...
prime mating years
take respite, and
hire oneself out
as independent contractor,
versus sedately pathetic mundane...
you bet your life
in relation to this
self ostracized scrivener.
What formerly got celebrated as adventitious age of exploration...
1492 unleashed, jump/
kick started, and downloaded
a bittorrent götterdämmerung
spelling genocide of indigenous peoples
occupying Turtle Island,
now surviving tribes
just a shell of their former grandeur.
At present Columbus day
linkedin with high dudgeon
courtesy scattered remnants
of once proud nations
occupying contiguous United States
plus calling Alaska and Hawaii
their happy hunting grounds,
enshrine actual or mythologized
spectacular pièce de résistance
instances when counting coup.
I recollect needing to know
scores of years ago
when a student attending grade schools
within Lower Providence District
as an important bit of information
contributing to (white washed) history
of western civilization
(and never forgot)
recalling the names Nina, Pinta,
and Santa Maria associated
with heroic measures undertaken
by Cristóbal Colón,
(but also been referred to,
by himself and others, as Christoual,
Christovam, Christofferus de Colombo,
and even Xpoual de Colón)
five hundred and thirty years ago,
who purportedly "discovered"
the Americas, when in
fact native occupants of the land
already dwelled upon
the then island paradises.
He/him and subsequent swashbuckling
gung-ho high spirited men
set sail across expanse of ocean(s)
exhibiting eager intent to claim
untrammeled storied quintessentially
opulently magnificent kingdoms
intoxicating greedy Europeans.
Blatant exploitation inexorably nudged
courtesy trickery vis a vis hook and crook
to grab good & plenty treats
forcibly wrested by violence
sabotaging the delicate webbed wide world
constituting millenniums of heavenly bliss,
where marauders wantonly ransacked
indeed lacking absolute zero selflessness
forcing diverse autochthonous nations
to acquiesce and surrender
ancestral grounds to aggressive, coercive
and offensive Europeans hell bent
to populate occupied territory
commandeering, humiliating, manhandling,
poisoning, subdividing, triangulating
every square inch
encompassing fruitful grand home
of rightful heirs to stolen
near boundless tracts
eventually hashtagging uncharted
pristine green acres
spanning from sea to shining sea
becoming commercial real estate
falsely claiming a haven
housing home of the free
land of the brave.
I was holding my slasher In the cold wet season
That's what we call it here
Then i saw his head coming from the east
Like the morning sun rising from sleep
Wounded like a might hunter
He stood head to toe
With a spear in his right hand
And a fruits in his left
The defeat on democracy was on his face
His begging spirit was gone
The story of disease no more
I saw Africa stand
All villagers came
To witness walking houses
With four balls rolling on the ground
Made by this great giant
He was no longer trembling as he spoke
We had his voice speak to our souls
We once down trodden
But now we arise
We looked as though cursed
But blessed we stand
We walked as dependents
But today we give
He spoke with Charisma and we all
Shouted
Yes Africa we rise
To change the world we live in
Africa we stand tall
To impact souls
To impart morals
To claim our heritage
As we mentor the worlds
That breast fed us for millenniums
Today
The Man, Africa
Stands and will never fall
"All things bright and beautiful;
All creatures great and small;
All things wise and wonderful;
The Lord God made them all."
Mrs. Cecil Alexander
The Brightest and the Beautiful
The brightest and the beautiful -
Small bits of sunlight seen
Through storms in colors
Floating
In the sky;
In raindrops forming puddles
Flowing
Into racing streams
That meet
To make the restless tides
Or snowflakes - no two quite alike -
Gathering on high peaks -
Bits of dust
From millenniums,
Long passed
Piled high -
Create a picture lovely
For the great and the small
In a heart of tiny cells,
Born from a little seed unseen,
To jump in joy at the vision
Seen through crystal windowpanes
Birthed from grains of sand
Forged in a furnace fire
up roaring;
The wonderful, the wisest plan
Of acrorns
Forming mighty forest oaks
On steep hills -
Raised into Heaven's smile -
Of gathered fragrant leaves or berries
Blending into cups of balm
For restless cores
Where dreams and dreamers
Meet,
Warmed by mantles
Woven from thin silken threads,
Resting in serenity's open arms
Lifting up small prayers of a thousand voices
Into miracles
Fashioned by the Lord of earth and Heaven -
Like bright pennies found by serendipity
Upon the roadside
That promise blessings -
Rejoicing life -
From the Lord, our God,
Who made them all.
Concerto D'amor
Whenever I'm with you,
Other things are amnesia.
Every single moment with you,
Suits decades in a catatonia.
If you were Bermuda triangle,
I'd often tread on the blast of shangri-la;
A picnic in the devil's triangle,
Run-of-the-mill than millenniums in ball park.
You're the Bermuda triangle.
I, being a wanderer.
The strong storm of South-America pulling me to you,
And down towards your smile I totter.
If you were an Iceberg,
I'd pull my Titanic towards you,
Rejoicing as you break me apart
Waters drowning the consciousness I'd built.
You're the iceberg;
Sybaritic, pudgy and turbingly symmetrical.
And I lost in the lust of the traverse,
With my patois feels your viscera.
Be whatever you choose:
A stark lasso repressing the rim of the sea?
But by bid can you loose,
Letting your waves gulp my plenary?
My heart through its mouth bleeds yearning,
Of how often for you I did fall.
Christ on a horse! I'm crazy 'bout you, honey!
This is my seven lives concerto d'amor.
19:05:01:16:48
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Ancestral piece. Concerto D'amor.
Does it not raise the question,
That perhaps in seven
Multi-trillion of millenniums,
God created our Universe.
How can Earthlings
Honestly not believe in such an idiom.
When planets and Earth
One day meet,
Heralding a cosmic delightful connection,
All within our Universe, will inevitably
Be ready to move in a forward,
Real direction!
For it seems impossible that
Looking beyond
The stars and eternity which are infinite
That we are the privileged,
We must reach out.
The creation of the universe
And the findings of Science,
Have come together,
Even religions acknowledge
This phenomena, logic
Which is God given, leads
Me to believe this could
Be absolutely true,
What is keeping us back, do we fear
Radicals and Dogmatic views, why,
Each one of us is unique,
Again God given, why be held back,
We have faith
That is all that we need,
For we are enveloped
And swathed,
In God’s love and realm.
alternately titled: 207th leap year since 1582
the year Pope Gregory XIII world leader
(i.e. essentially paterfamilias among
Roman Catholic flock)
timely maneuvered around calendrical rock
and hard space implementing
viable system tracking years ad hoc
out of sync and lock
step by one day
with astronomical calendar,
slated more'n acceptable tick tock
off kilter around the year of 4818
after common era making mock
re: regarding mankind organizing and
witnessing global chockablock
Democratic celebratory anniversary party
millenniums after Republican dynastic deadlock
thoroughly walled imponderable gridlock
worse fate than quaffing hemlock
practically snuffing out lock, stock
and barrel constitutional birthrights
thirteen original American
founding fathers ghosts experiencing shock
how initial inalienable rights
activists sacrificing life and limb
united with linkedin armlock
said freedom fighters shackled
within crowded jail moldering cinderblock
cold upon hemorrhoid riddle buttock
diehard libertarians unified, pilloried, denounced
legion with repulsion as Shylock
purported, reputed, touted playwright
(William Shakespeare's sited anti semite
The Merchant Of Venice) doth mock
Judaism in vogue four hundred plus years ago,
smoldering think white supremacists i.e. skinheads
violently aiming to knock
non Caucasians upside the head
courtesy pistol whip,
and/or emptying gunstock
into human flesh disenfranchise scaring up
one after another racial and/or ethnic aftershock
aforementioned celebrated bard unwittingly
strictly opinion of me:silly poet -
despite hashtagged as laughingstock,
(plus vitriolic objection taken)
voiced by Shakespearean expert defenders,
yours truly reckons mine thought provoking
regarding storied, lauded, and feted Globe theater
literary King my interpretations not crock.
April 19th 2020 - just an ordinary and typical...
clothes washing Sunday courtesy the missus
Ah... the highlight of our supposed, linkedin,
designated day of respite after a week toiling
away with ennui, yes reader a tower mountain
(rivalling Himalaya's 29,029 foot range), oozes
odoriferous tendrils suffuse every square inch
within entire drab one bedroom apartment, but
invariably contribute to climate changing/global
warming), said domestic chore indulged with a
burst of fervent excitement (competing making
long day's journey into night long to retrieve the
requisite communication with outside webbed
wide world) bring joie de vivre je ne sais quois
weekly highlight to thyself vaccinated courtesy
(against adversity), and valued tough as (nine
inch) nails missus vaunted as Xena, methinks,
she exaggerates bajillion fold dubbing me with
appellation as herr (germane) Hercules, a miss
gnome er, I no longer nitpick amidst these most
challenging times where coronavirus COVID-19
(ironic violent crime plus environmental abuse
nearly absolute zero) engendering loyalty, high
fidelity, assiduity among madding crowd I (a runt
of mill garden variety generic doubting Thomas)
kin Hardy believe me myopic sudden inexplicable
camaraderie between and betwixt ordinary folks,
no matter, we (doddering, hobbling, & kickstarting)
long time married couple (seems like millenniums)
revel when washing clothes occasion arises, despite
modern time saving contrivances (washer and dryer)
available, but all monies larded out to buzzfeed icky
persnickety, rickety,... temperamental wishy washy
machines quickly (said cash & or cache automatically
line silver) pockets of Grosse and Quade, them iz zee
who own living facility here: 2 Highland Manor, yet
purportedly (according to rumor mongers aim to sell
property for fair market price) - just in case ye dear
reader seek to sink (literally) x dollars into formerly
owned Mars redoubt, and once upon time wetlands.
With each morning, we awaken.
Horrors of our yesterdays ought to be forsaken.
We must move on and remain unshaken.
Dreams for a new future let’s start making.
I think of the flood that came in Noah’s time.
Centuries ago, God cleansed the world of sin’s grime.
The Ark landed in a new place and likely a new clime.
A rainbow appeared for a new day breaking.
Imagine how they felt when that rainbow they did see.
As it shone with beauty, hopelessness was meant to flee.
God made this happen back then, so I can foresee
a day of joy when God’s people no longer are aching.
*"Reflections of pink, and gold on heaven’s floor,
a hint of memories that came millenniums before,
and the radiance of God’s glory, eyeing from behind the shore,
is a new dawn, for our taking."
*(last verse by Martin Braun)
With each morning, there comes a hope that embraces me.
I am then comforted by promises from God that I see.
GREAT MOVEMENTS have been coming and going.
Clearly, plainly, human history is duly showing.
GREAT MOVEMENTS? They all die, just as mortals do.
Masses are always craving for something new;
And like nature's seasons, they soon pass.
But GREAT PRINCIPLES and TRUTH will last.
The TRUTH of 'LOVE' can never die,
No matter how hard that HATRED tries.
The BIBLE, once withheld from the common man,
Forever blossoms when mortals take a stand.
CHRIST'S NAME, although often misused for earthly gain;
Many were burned to death for the sake of that same NAME.
The blood of the 'Holocaust' colors our planet's pain.
Notwithstanding, the purposes of God will forever reign.
With each morning, there comes a fresh awareness of God.
I am reminded of His magnanimous love from the start;
Of the assignment for me and the execution of my mission;
Of the role I must play to make better my world's condition.
Reflections of pink, and gold on heaven’s floor,
a hint of memories that came millenniums before,
and the radiance of God’s glory, eying from behind the shore,
is a new dawn, for our taking.
Like falling dominoes, every knee must someday bow.
History has spoken; the hour is late; the time is now.
Until evil has reached its end, its force is daunting.
All evil shall someday expire, and a new world is coming.
081123PS