Long Modelled Poems
Long Modelled Poems. Below are the most popular long Modelled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Modelled poems by poem length and keyword.
Thumbs Up To The Journey
At the footbridge as it bridges past from present future and perspectives your
feet might be-come and may be-go confused be-fuddled as can your mind before
the shadows rainbows feathered fancy pastel tunes and blues-bound colours
can memories anticipation taking-stock ooze pots and lots of lived experience
re-scribed re-told rewound projected narrated from emotive thoughts
stand still
At the bridge as it cradles the canyon with ladles and measures of the moment
where it spans what once was what you enrich in here and now not there and then the sweeping meadows fields of harvest schisms unions paradigms evaluations can treasures scary scars letting-go liberate scents and stents of living fragrance perceived untold configured touched upon stocked up condensed
reflected wait
The past is yet to come and not withstanding what bridge which side what size
and whence long gone remembrance spins and spans and slows and speeds the motion the sunrise dusk and dawning tapestry mosaic photographic lens sensations can truth reality attitudes and imperfections find soul and solace shared solitude re-modelled shaped anew confronted soothed harmonised
accentuated rise
The future has arrived and has been long projected and the past is living on
where they settle and sizzle on in ember’s glory and ashes to ashes and Phoenix in flight when horizons and boxes un-boxed wriggling worms preceding grave graves can joy pleasure senses and sexes passion peace human works of art in progress accepted invited challenged unchallenged channelled welcomed
gratitude prevail
At the foot-bridge at the mind-bridge where it bridges cradles sweeps your meaning brushes and jungles juggles and wonders which hand’s intuition which path to follow lie the answers to the questions asked lie the questions known and
not yet explored
24th July 2016
Wake up a little earlier; another troubled night
But the remnants of pre-birthday make-up still do their job remarkably
Smile for the camera; these pictures are keepers, so realistically modelled for
Thank yous for unthoughtful offerings; why hurt feelings after all?
A dozen friends all come along; it's not their scene but they want to please me
Can't look over there, have to be the last to go through the door
They're trying so hard, all their love gathering on my windowsill
Some cards handmade with heartfelt affection, gifts so vague and cliched, more
roses than I could care for
And your dusty eyes still staring through them all from behind the frame
Complete the scene as my headstone
Couldn't have slept at all
Excitedly imagining what you were planning
Warm in your jacket you gave me to sleep in
Wouldn't lift or lower my foolish head
Jitters looking forward to you
Flash could've gone off but we wouldn't notice
Shroud me with your words, promises you could not keep
All the guests combined; a less than you companion
I wonder why we couldn't make it through?
And I'd never had to say goodbye 'til the day that I met you
All that I'd got for we pushed them all out
And I didn't miss them.
Didn't miss them.
Why are you still asking after me?
How do you still reach into my eyes
Before I turn away?
What happened to let us get like this and tell me
When can it end?
How is it I want it to stay?
Though there's a soft spot for you in my heart and you're
Slowly seeping out
Frozen as this face remains
Breaking when I'm forced to recall
I'm 18 and you're not here
But she passed on your message for me
Happy Birthday.
And in those obligated words it all crashes back
I'll keep all our secrets and ignore all the rest
The world we made and left to decay
Keeps me smiling for every wasted day.
Robotic
Silver tears fall from robot eyes;
The hole for a heart has broken wires.
The love we used to feel? I have removed those files.
Robotic people lead robotic lives.
Delete memories to give us more memory space;
The undistinguished face is factory made.
Modelled in clay; repeat again.
Another body, with another face; we are all the same.
Robotic people live robotic lives.
Work for the master for nickels and dimes.
Programmed to function, incapable of lying;
Programmed to self-destruct at the end of our time.
Watching people go by, living ordinary lives;
They are not the robot I see in the reflection
And they seem to be doing just fine.
Dreams of former lives never remembered in this mind;
I am robotic, but I pay it no mind.
Heartless and constant, I am becoming less than I should;
Infected files corrupt us from the inside,
When we were only trying to feel good.
Love is just data, magic does not exist; it is just a pretense.
The formula to the equation of my very own existence.
The failure of a maker who brought me into this world;
I am strong on the outside, but inside I am fetal.
Empty of emotion, now I have lived this life;
I see ordinary people living exotic lives,
But I am a robotic being and I cannot experience a true smile.
Nothing behind the eyes to show a real emotion;
I am just a robotic person; I am just in need of a function.
I am lost without romance in this web of confusion;
Robotic people lead robotic lives and I am living in slow motion.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
The crust which formed 4 billion years ago,
Only came at the extinction of the molten,
And the microbial mat fossils keenly found
From 3.48bn years ago, came from graphite!
Over 99% of all known species are extinct,
Vital life is just a specification of yourself,
You will influence others for better or worse,
Life is ours and not god’s to mould or sculpt.
Those who are by you truly most inspired,
Will inevitably become strong, bit like you,
To supersede, to survive in another’s place,
Such that humankind is becoming better.
Speciation by niche events is very beautiful,
It codes life by behaviour and not by speech,
Inherited genes are based on action, deed,
Rather than on religious articulations devious.
Mass extinction is not normal, ending comes
To every species of any kind in every society:
Up to half of today’s plant and animal species,
Will be extinct by 2100 without question, doubt.
Death is ok, universal, and happens to us all,
It’s normal, and from it comes something good:
From death’s non-entity, speciation happens,
Which allows life’s structures to flow vibrantly.
Evolution does not exclude anyone, no one,
Not the week, not the disabled, not a starfish,
Every individual’s struggle and pride matter,
And the fit, moral, are modelled and mimicked.
Dan's on the mezzanine
asking where the mayor lives
I'm on the dole line,
wondrin bout conservatives
The man with the leg cramps
boot camps wheel clamps
says they cut his food stamps.
Look out son,
he’s packin a gun:
God knows why
Pat Boone, full moon
someone's gonna die soon.
Del's on welfare,
Donald Trump is real pissed:
give 'em all health care?
What are we? Socialists?
Thinks I'm Harry Lime:
street crime, sub-prime,
now you're working part-time.
Look out boy,
you're only a goy:
don't revere teachers,
don't obey no preachers.
Jen's on Fox News
talkin bout the bank crash
wanna get some real views?
What about the trailer trash?
Read about Goldilocks
Botox bobbysocks
modelled by Amanda Knox.
Look out, Joe,
you're spoiling the show.
Don't watch features,
don't dance in the bleachers.
Get hired, get fired,
get rich, get stitched,
get tired, get wired,
get hitched, get ditched.
They got the cops at backstop,
Al Gore keeping score
'tween the Poors
and Dirt-Poors,
'tween the Haves
and Have-Mores.
John Wayne's vanished.
He's off to learn Spanish.
Villanelle: Hope not hope against the landing of the craft MH370
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
The sky is deeper than the oceans of the earth
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
What goes up must come down be it just on raft
The longer you wait the dimmer must grow faith
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
Days stretch into nights till lights dim dark on raft
He who knocks from the other side knows true mirth
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
Man’s meanness to man cannot be Maker’s graft
Two hundred thirty-nine ways show World the truth
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
Million dashed hopes founder by scion in graft
Too many the mourned lives roving lone the earth
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
Sixty years of a cover-up now erupt
In the face of those modelled by Master birth
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Fittingly hallowed gods must intrinsic majesty hold.
Even before deities invoked weigh the caller's case,
The deity's potent title should alone spell the balm,
And tint with nourishing grace the supplicant's face.
Woe justly betides gods modelled by mortal skill,
Conjured to define the worshiper's creative spans.
True deity outdoes their adherent's most avid drill,
And defeats most faithful admirers' keenest scans.
If while engaged they varied ethereal trends display,
But when left alone they silent and unbothered stay;
You already got there a freaking raw deal indeed:
You're the mighty guy your own-made gods need!
The worshiped must by heart the worshiper know,
And both will ever commune as if by infallible law.
It’s the supreme being mightily seeking the follower,
Who grasps it well and submits to the bigger power.
It’s a fake god if it bends to suit whimsical desire,
Or at once plays into your infinite imaginative fire!
Look but don't see! a new World is being made
its fabric is interwoven with a strength of inconsistency
It teaches in pre-schools that
Run from 9 am until 6 with
The children of other lost children who are
Called parents. 'Parents’. It’s a useful
Word!! in this useless world.
That has re-modelled and fetes the
Carnal old realities of blood
Lusting empires of Olympian
Depths.! Trans-ported to Roman orgies to be impressed upon its young captives as their elders run the gamut of ‘endless hours in a
A bean counters paradise.'
Dealing with the cobbled together mantra of consumer ideologies as false idols strut across energy
Wasting screens there are wars, wars on waste wars on want, on pollution, on many many things. These are the
Rumours! also there are real wars
There are earthquakes famines but the end is not yet! viruses in the computers
A virus on the flesh, upon the
Men, who have become lovers of themselves.
©Joe Maverick 31-3-2020
ATHEIST PRAYER
O Founding Fathers of our glorious state
Your names live hallowed in antiquity.
Your kingdom has come,
Your will is done on earth as it should be.
We’ve earned today’s daily bread;
We tolerate no errors domestic or foreign;
And Lord help those who err against us.
Send us no trials, and deliver us from all enemies:
For the kingdom, the power, and the glory
Are ours for ever.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Modelled on The Lord’s Prayer : Matthew 6 : 10 - 14
( How hollow life would be - if this were a real prayer.)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entered in John Freeman’s New Contest : Faith Versus Poetry
WATERCOLOUR PICTURE
Strolling slowly in tree pergolas
Golden roofs and sunlit cupolas
Caress of evening breeze warm
Fountains with their arching form
Sunlit water in the distance -
Million silver-fish in existence
Fairytale beauty royal palace
Peterhof fills an artist’s canvas *
Hydrofoil back to city centre
Distant city seems no closer
Skimming close to giant freighter
Massive, straighter, nothing greater
Speed on skis to harbour landing
Hermitage on the Neva standing
Warm late evening summer sun
Chattering crowd ice-cream fun.
Note: * Peterhof is a very beautiful palace just south of St. Petersburg.
. It is modelled on Versailles. Today it is a museum.