Long Mollify Poems
Long Mollify Poems. Below are the most popular long Mollify by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mollify poems by poem length and keyword.
The unbearable grief he never wished for or imagined
made him a secluded man shunning all Humanity;
he clung to a feeble breath so void of each certainty,
telling himself he had to fight harder and be admired.
I saw him chasing clouds out of his bleary sky
with an urge stronger than desire, " Let no hope
be held from me, I deserve joy unlikely anybody."
What made change his mind staring at that rope?
How many bottles of rum he had stored in his hut?
Did the small paycheck he earned cover the hefty price?
At no vail, he tried to rob the local liquor store twice;
nobody bailed him out, prison brought despair not guilt.
He sits in the coldest room staring at the darkest sky,
who dares to shake his hand and lift him up to mollify
his confined spirit not emboldened by actual reality?
Help him overcome his dire loneliness and sobriety!
At first light trudging through the Arctic Snow,
Is it for thrill or just a Facebook photo show?
As the Arctic wind buffets our flushed face,
The long-awaited walk soon becomes a shambles of a race.
Hands morph to splintered wood, eyebrows deftly freeze,
And yet the brochure promised we’d do this trek with ease.
Soldier on, embrace the frigid grind,
Pray aloud that inner fortitude to find,
Not a sound outside our laden breath,
Every move made with fractured hapless stealth.
But coupled to the cold a streaming sweat,
A larger wager would I not have surely bet,
That a saunter on the glistening Arctic Tundra
Would at most develop the art of soothing Mantra.
Then a booming voice disturbs this quiet introspection,
As the guide engages in frantic group inspection,
His walkie talkie comes suddenly to life,
Stern commands soon wailing shrill with strife.
Bears ahead with teenage cubs in tow,
Keep down, stay low,
Curb the chatter, pretend you’re but a stone,
Form a line, don’t venture out alone;
Rifle’s cocked, don't turn around,
Polar bears don't run - they bound.
Now move backwards, avoid their steely gaze,
Take full advantage of this soaring Polar haze.
Maybe minutes, but seemingly an age,
As we shuffle blindly stage by stumbling stage;
Our Dunkirk - the waiting rubber boats,
Ecstatic for anything that somehow runs and floats.
Back to the ship, sodden and quite sore,
Not to mention frozen to the epicenter of our core,
We huddle around cups of steaming tea,
Sharing stories of all we had to fear and see.
You may well ask, was this the fateful end,
Did we to natures will forlornly yield and bend?
It's true the thought did rather cross our minds,
Fearful of more unscripted scrapes and woeful binds,
However, a good sleep and liquid strength galore,
Did somewhat mollify that sorry shameful score.
For as dawn broke early the next day,
To a person did we in seeming chorus say:
Off we trudge as more adventure waits,
To experience all that Nature's majesty creates,
Our only thought one of craving more,
And so we went, still frozen to our core.
My strides left shallow imprints 'pon a sandy shore
Gulls cried out in alarm and swarmed cornflower skies
My thoughts turned to Avalon of King Arthur's lore
while dawn broke as an amber yoke in morn's sunrise
I shielded my eyes from the sea's shimmering waves
sauntering restlessly with a sorrowful soul
mourning my aggrieved heart, a heart that love enslaves
My grief spills in the shallows of this rocky shoal
Salty breeze, please chase away my tears of despair
Tell me how to heal or in anguish I shall die
Wounded by pillaged love, my emotions laid bare
I walk this shore, begging my ache to mollify
My footprints 'pon the sand and hope submerged in doubt
I plead for a flood of faith to end passion's drought
October 1, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 15
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Why does the heart get all the credit for love?
By so-called affairs of the heart,
that most storied of organs is not unduly inconvenienced.
It beats,
now faster, now slower,
that is all, its task ever unvaried.
But the brain.
The brain is swarmed
by a scream of consciousness,
the amount of work that lands on its desk
swollen by an epidemic of incoming data
as body-wide receptors caffeinated by intimations of love
report frequent sightings of
unexampled beauty followed by euphoric contacts.
Every signal, real or illusory, is taken into custody and interrogated
to determine its authenticity or duplicity.
Every word is a code that needs to be deciphered with a
clear-eyed detachment it can no longer muster.
Every look is transferred to the left side
for facial-contextual-inferential analysis but often hijacked by the right
for the purpose of aesthetic appreciation.
Every scent is identified and catalogued with
a perfumer's olfactory precision.
There are hints to catch,
spats to be postmortemed,
crucial dates to be inoculated against amnesia,
preferences to be recorded, compared, grafted,
model answers to catch-22 questions drafted,
declarations of adoring allegiance crafted.
The subject’s mind is apparently required to be read,
two sets of past, present, future to be crossbred,
blindness to other females pled.
There are virtues to exaggerate to divine proportions,
flaws to modify to virtues with willful distortions,
desires to mollify by counseling patience,
thoughts to be felt,
feelings to be thought,
vertigo to be fought.
Still the to-do list grows,
the repairing of an attention that no longer spans,
the mistaking of what happens to millions of others daily
as a unique personal miracle,
the confusing of being loved with being special,
the projecting of an untested passion into an eternity,
the steadying of feet that has taken to walking on air,
the murdering of ballads meant to be trilled,
and the admonishing
of that nonchalantly speeding heart
to be still.
Ladies and Gentlemen, good folks gather round!
What I have here to show you is worth every pound.
It will soothe your dry bunions, seal your canoe,
Moisten your leather, and stretch your shampoo.
At my own huge expense, from India to thee,
The famous, spectacular, Big Jumbo’s Ghee!
I’ve used it as wheel lube from here to Mumbai.
It can quiet your babies at night when they cry.
It can mollify itching from poisonous plants.
It will ease the infirm of their ravings and rants.
No sir, not a swindle, this is no evil boast.
You can even put Ghee on your pancakes and toast!
Just so, Sambo travelled from hamlet to town,
Selling his Ghee; a half-cup for a pound.
Word spread like wildfire, for this was no hoax.
Just a golden-brown product that’s good for all folks.
He lived very simply, for Sambo was blessed.
And sent home his millions so Mumbo could rest!
5/30/17
For the contest “Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman”.
Sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
The most important
Fine drizzle over the bay, falling slowly and hesitantly
as preparing for a proper deluge
Who knows, perhaps it will not happen, and the sun
will shine even if it is a day older
Dry slippery cobblestone pavements for the aged
Since it is Saturday, the ships' tugs are at their anchorage.
as they want to be nearer the shore
One vessel has run out of meat and potatoes, a stable
Diet, the chief steward, had bought a lot of cakes
because he was depressed at the time and needed
cheering up
To mollify the crew, he told of a famous woman who
said when the people were hungry, "let them eat cakes."
The crew didn't think that was funny and threatened
to throw him overboard
From the shore came a motorboat loaded with pears
oranges and cabbage, but no potatoes and no meat
The chief steward was trying to swim ashore
It is Labor Day
I am paid not work
but what am I to do
the festive trimmings are not attached
so the perk is an useless quirk and
my boring schedule quickly fills in the gaps
as usual, my alarm sounds at 6am
the coffee maker perks at 6:15am
my rested body flings away the covers
I watch the Today show while shaving
fetch the newspaper, quickly scan the headlines
wait, I have more time my curiosity to prime
but the dog is on his normal morning schedule
so I speed to the door, his bladder to mollify
no fancy holiday breakfast awaits in the kitchen
so, on cue, I grab an egg, poach it, down some juice
my family sleeps on through the holiday mirage
my engine is in overdrive, but where to go
no parades, pageants append this vapid day
but there is no reason to stay at home either
no arriving relatives to amend the boredom
still, I have one day's free pay to spend
maybe, I'll take the car to the wash
nah, that is a weekend ritual
perhaps, I will canvas Pro Bass Shop
nah, the drive is longer than my work commute
OK, I will stay at home and be a utilitarian
I can finish trimming the bedroom shutters
but wait, I am out of that flossy white paint
and didn't my wife need the car for her
annual holiday shopping spree
I could re-mow the lawn to give it
a manicured look, but nah
to labor on Labor day is too oxymoronic
so I curl up in front of the TV
finish watching the Today show
contented with the lofty notion that
I am being paid to while away the day
Dear, Attorney Ambrose
What Caroline has been forced to indure has at the very least been detrimental to her brain development?
Her frontal lobes being at best seventy five percent if that developed.
Having been since I've been gone,
has caused her to be emotionally abused that has produced either heightened or prolonged activation of the stress system that will result in her later-life behavior.
And the bogus attempt to mollify me, based on my own abused experiences, leaves me with that sour taste,
the taste of disgust that one knows when being told to achieve an out come, that you already know.
Psychological expert's are now more sure than ever as to how these early-life experiences change the brain,
any reasonably intelligent person now knows
that the brain responds by changing its structure, gene expression, and function.
And to dismiss this reasonable argument should prohibit anyone who thinks else wise, from having
or playing a role in my daughters still developing mind.
Would you not agree?
How do we help a traumatized child recover?
There is no magical insight about an individual untrained in child abuse and their future behavior as was just recently tried in court by untrained D.C.F. worker's opining as to why Caroline was Baker acted.
Or that Caroline could understand the ramifications of her actions,
other than to find a way to extradite her self from that her group home surrounding's.
Where self reporting as you suggested, would in the future find her.
Right?
Instead, heightened caregiving and therapy involving social behavior is now the key.
Unfortunately all have for year's have known that Karen has never possessed the where with all
to change her self destructive behavior.
Attorney Ambrose, we are all social creatures, and our social interactions in early life design the brain to greatly influence the person that we will one day become.
Please Respond!
Sincerely,
James McLain
Ennui conspires insipid moods
infringing human awareness,
ruled by a lunatic vision,
not controlled by insight and lucidity;
and desires of a Dolce Vita
mollify a false illusion
to appear on an intaglio, to gradually
become a shining insignia.
To steer a ship, takes effort and patience,
and if its course is guided by favorable winds,
all is well for the adventurous captain;
and should he lose focus, lured by lunacy and nihilism,
his enthusiasm wears out and failure sets in...
and his ship will lurch on unfriendly waves,
and his ennui lessens courage to deviate
from the safe route when nocturnal vision is lost indeed.
Ennui insinuates myopia,
muzzling the voice and halting
the mind's performance,
thus forging the promise of utopia;
and the hunch is to pursue intuition
whenever it may lead...being
the holster controlling the steed,
getting rid of the humdrum and huff,
humming and ignoring the hourglass,
which trickles sand to infuse fear.
An Autumn Intermingled
When twilight sends lavender to the sky,
And reflections of light ignite the orange,
(Alluring colours of autumn mesmerise),
Sickle of moon is unable to cut the dark,
(Unfathomed beauty in orange and yellow),
Robust waters of rivers to shores' embark,
(Trenchant evanescence of greens),
Crispy leaves with breeze flutter around,
(Unfeigned emotions true up in zest),
Yellow, orange and red hues surround,
(Mollify the fiery torrid days),
An autumn night awaits a warm welcome,
(Nautical furnaces red on edge of horizon)!
Written March 2nd, 2015
By Dr. Upma A. Sharma
For contest "Intermingle" by Craig Cornish
Awarded 7th place
Original poems intermingled are ------------
1. An Autumn Night
Written September 6th, 2014
For contest 'Autumn night' by PD A
2. Autumn
Written Oct 2nd, 2014
For contest 'Season acrostics' by Charlotte Puddifoot