Long Mon Poems
Long Mon Poems. Below are the most popular long Mon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mon poems by poem length and keyword.
An essence heard a heartfelt plea
meek, unconfident, not familiar
"Should I bother anymore? Please guide me."
His words hardly mist....
a response slices the scene
with the speed of a guillotine.
skittering over the asymmetrical
similarities of a snowy expanse
a messenger appears
cracks of icy dunes
produce precarious pawfalls
plaguing the vixen.
venturing further precisely
she plods over precipices
of ragged protrusions
desperate to achieve the comfort
of a smooth surface.
"Where you go is perilous!
I worry for your safety!
It can't be done, you won't survive!"
...cried the timid.
Her movement stops on cue
slowly facing the pupil
she teaches in silent syllables
floating on unknown frequencies.
" DAMN YOU NAYSAYER!
I have no time for the likes of you.
Say I won't survive? Come out alive?
I've fought through worse pain
finding sustenance to gain
morsels leaving one inspired
not feeling as if they're mired.
Search within your pores
find where you have hidden yours."
Dumbfounded - the novice stirs restlessly
"Perplexed, I see, you are mon cherie.
Hear what you seek before I flee.
When life's coldness surrounding you
leaves you writhingly wretched
don't feel so desolate and utterly dejected.
Deep inside lies the truth
albeit quite protected.
Bugger those scorning your worth
their eyes glisten shades green.
Stagnantly feeding ego's girth
pompous words - own to preen.
YOU are the Alpha here Jack
there is no need to whine
Condemn the disapproving pack
let your own light shine
Too much weight put into their drivel
making your inner child snivel
Buck up, put them in their place
other's ire force them to chase.
This be your nefarious impasse
faux approval merely to fit in
Always people of that class
saying anything to win
Lastly,
though I've said enough....
It's as you learned when a tyke
those times you fell off your bike
quit being a ruse
get back to your muse
keep working at what you like!"
Sunset facing her gaze
signals the quest resumed
Her protege audibly sobs
a simple seven syllable soliloquy stating:
"Thank you
I love and miss you!"
with a whispered (mom)
Tender tendrils of whispy wind
touch a cheek with a kiss
and a lasting voiceless return.....
"Forever, son"
Martial Translations
Coq au vin (Cook or wine)
by Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you merely an éclair to the greedy?
2.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you tart Amaro to the greedy?
Amaro is an after-dinner liqueur thought to aid the digestion after a large meal.
3.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you an aperitif to the greedy?
4.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but they’re pimps to the seedy.
Ad cenam invitant omnes te, Phoebe, cinaedi.
mentula quem pascit, non, puto, purus *****est.
You ask me why I love fresh country air?
You're not befouling it, mon frère.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
You’ll find good poems, but mostly poor and worse,
my peers being “diverse” in their verse.
2.
Some good poems here, but most not worth a curse:
such is the crapshoot of a book of verse.
Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura
quae legis hic: aliter non fit, Auite, liber.
He undertook to be a doctor
but turned out to be an undertaker.
Chirurgus fuerat, nunc est uispillo Diaulus:
coepit quo poterat clinicus esse modo.
1.
The book you recite from, Fidentinus, was my own,
till your butchering made it yours alone.
2.
The book you recite from I once called my own,
but you read it so badly, it’s now yours alone.
3.
You read my book as if you wrote it,
but you read it so badly I’ve come to hate it.
Quem recitas meus est, o Fidentine, libellus:
sed male cum recitas, incipit esse tuus.
Recite my epigrams? I decline,
for then they’d be yours, not mine.
Ut recitem tibi nostra rogas epigrammata. Nolo:
non audire, Celer, sed recitare cupis.
I do not love you, but cannot say why.
I do not love you: no reason, no lie.
Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare:
hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te.
You’re young and lovely, wealthy too,
but that changes nothing: you’re a shrew.
Bella es, nouimus, et puella, uerum est,
et diues, quis enim potest negare?
Sed cum te nimium, Fabulla, laudas,
nec diues neque bella nec puella es.
Keywords/Tags: Martial, Latin, translation, epigram, hosts, dinner, meal, food, drink, wine, addiction, house, host, dessert
I
A queue to a doorway
No-one knows what´s
On sale there
It could be washing powder
Almonds or diamonds
You think this was some
Yesterday
Look out your
Ghost smeared
Window
This is now
II
Throw stones at the
Motorcade
The pin pricked
Giant will barely
Pause
At banners & petitions
Faded pendants
Worthless paper
Riding out for a
Losing battle
Looking to a broken sky
For some Mon´s Angel
Less an army
More a mob
To the castle!
To the castle!
With flaming
Molotov
You awake in darkness
Hopeful
So many crusades
Begin in dreams
III
Tobolski late summer
With blankets for curtains
Tapestry dust
Stirred into
Koptyski forest soil
The former holy
The highest
Dragged
Splintered
Made human
Or less
IV
Each new dawning day
Spins us up to escape velocity
To be spat out to unthinking stars
Made passive by the weight of reason & history
We stare out into the rain
Believing wolves rule beyond the clearing
Elsewhere there is dancing
Cruise ships leave a wake of
Halved grapefruits
Shirts and skirts worn once
Gilded, seamless they glide
Oblivious to the hidden knife
The newspaper wrapped revolver
Passed under the café table
At the platform´s edge
All are equal to the justice
Of the approaching train
V
Red Emma
Red Emma
Won´t you send Berkman over
With a satchel full
Of dynamite
On a Chicago bound
Train
VI
Part six
In which
I dig a hole
To bury past dreams
And convictions
I brain-grew
At a factory lathe
Always knowing
There was escape
A high window climb
And as any fool knows
The fresh-turned soil
Of any deep hole
Can be easy seen
From the public road
VII
My advice to you
Young devil-cared rebel
Why don´t you climb on the roof
While your parents are sleeping
Try & flag down a passing
Black star liner
The busted sewer pipe
Has flooded the basement
Wet pages spin like lily pads
Stashed furniture corpse-bloats
Full boxes mush-mold
Time is tight
Young devil-cared pilgrim
Take with you only
What your pockets can hold
VIII
Among the defeated
Slack faces on rusted fairground rides
Among the defeated
Eating smoke rain mocked
Among the defeated
Careless cigarettes burn umbrella holes
Among the defeated
Landlocked padlocked frozen out
IX
Don´t
try a handstand
Your coins will
Fall out
X
Under the tar
The chariot ruts
A Golem
Is stirring.
I have no friends left,
In this town,
Will you be my friend?
You, the little Prince
Living On the planet B 612?
Will you be my friend?
The robin
Gracefully singing
When I Walk?
I have no friend,
Will you be my friend?
You, the engineer
In your lighted office
Located In Duchess Anne Street?
I have no friend
In this town,
You, will you be my friend,
You, the creeping ivy
The higher you climb.
Will you be my friend?
You, the schoolboy
That carries in your binder,
Books of poetry
More learned than me?
I have no friend,
You, do you want my friendship,
You Jessica Pegula, you, Coco Goff,
You, Karolina Muchova, players
Who Win tennis tournaments
Playing All over the world?
I have no more friends,
In this town, you
Will you be my friend?
You, the rum baba,
Tasting more delicious than angel liquor?
Will you be my friend?
You, the humble cowboy,
Gary Cooper, who does justice,
When the train, yes the train,
Whistle it three times?
I have no friend,
In this town,
But elsewhere may be,
I’ve had so many; I’ve had so many, maybe
They’ll miss me tomorrow
What happened to my friends?
Je n’ai plus d’amis,
Dans cette ville,
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami ?
Toi, le petit Prince
Sur ta planète B 612 ?
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami ?
Le rouge-gorge
Qui chante gracieusement
Sur mon passage ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami,
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami ?
Toi, l’ingénieur
Dans ton bureau éclairé
De la rue Duchesse Anne ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami
Dans cette ville,
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, le lierre rampant
Plus haut tu grimperas.
Veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, le collégien
Qui porte dans ton cartable,
Des livres de poésie
Plus savant que moi ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami,
Toi, veux-tu mon amitié,
Toi Jessica Pegula, toi, Coco Goff,
Toi, Karolina Muchova, joueuses
Qui Gagnez des tournois de tennis
Aux quatre coins du monde ?
Je n’ai plus d’ami,
Dans cette ville, toi,
Veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, le baba au rhum,
Plus délicieux que la liqueur des anges ?
Veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, l’humble cowboy,
Gary Cooper, qui rend justice,
Quand le train, oui le train,
Siffle trois fois ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami,
Dans cette ville,
Mais ailleurs peut être,
J’en ai eu tant, j’en ai tant, peut être
Que je leur manquerai demain.
Que sont mes amis devenus ?
Written tonuhalan10/4/06 mon
Sad and blue
there are some times when your feeling sad and blue
there are some times when you don’t know what to dooo
don’t even know
don’t even know
don’t even know
there are someways
when your going
what your going through
and I don’t even know how to survive in this place im going into
there are some times
you don’t know what’s going on
there are some times when you feel so sad and blue
don’t even know
don’t even know
know know know
and you might of found him
and you don’t know what to say
your playing out to all those people in this place
there are beings from outer space
and you don’t know what to do
as you see the colors
behind your eyes
there’s nothing else to make you blue
I don’t even know don’t even know
don’t even know know more
as you feel the beat
and going through the floor
there’s nowhere out there in the summer
there’s know one in the rain
and you don’t even know
and you don’t even know
and your going out into the frame
there are places that I have been to
and there are things that I like to do
there are ways to make you feel Written and sung by Sean McMahon randy
Joseph on 19/03/06 on /19/03/06/
and to make you feel so new
like the speed its making me higher
don’t know if im on fire
fire is the burning desire to make your father new
I haven’t seen my father since I was five years old
writer playing on the stage
and don’t know what he is looking for
got his bottle of whiskey in his hand got a smoke in the other one
don’t even know don’t even know
know one
I put it out in another place like my father told me it was great
but I never saw my granddaddy die
I was like seven years old I was running on and through
and there’s nowhere out here on a rainbow and the sunshine got me through
and the grass is green and the trouble on the field and the falling of the sun
vocalization of somewhere out there and I have just begun
and there’s now more out here in the summer
there’s know where in the rain
and if your playing that then im coming alone
and your going to feel the pain
going feel the pain
pain
there are some times when your feeling blue
Sung by
Sean randy Joseph McMahon/written in text on /19/03/06/
Form:
Brigitte my love
Our Country suffers of many debts
The people are restless
Whatever shall we do love?
Ah Macron, we must think past the cookies
The solutions are complex, answers evasive
Let me speak with Marie Antoinette, she shall know!
Queen of Navarre, By god we shall be saved!
Marie, Marie Antoinette our people are restless
Our republic is in debt. these are crazy times!
Whatever shall we do?
I am fed up, allons-y
Ah fear not, if they have not bread!
Let them eat Nutella!
Lower the prices
Nutella for the masses!!!
Marie, are you sure? very very sure of such things?
Oui oui, on with it, my father was emperor of Rome
Nutella will calm the masses
Come here Nemo. taste, see even Nemo is tres happy now!
And so France lowered the prices of Nutella
Thus began the nouveau French Revolution
Riots in the streets, brawling in the magasins
The uprising has began, we want our Nutella for free
The masses rose
Nutella for all, Nutella for sans prix
We are all somewhat fou for Nutella you see!
And so the masses fought each other for Nutella's liberty
Nutella one and Nut Ella all!
I swear to your Brigette
We should have given them Macarons!!!
People remain civilized with cafe and cookies! n'est pas?
Emmanuel my love, fret not
The revolution shall be quelled
Qh I have the perfect person for this
He shall restore order to our dear republic
Prey tell Brigette? Who could do such a thing now
Riots everywhere, the masses fight each other daily?
The streets are not safe
There is a shortages of Nutella now, we are doomed cheri
Non non mon amour, I shall call Alizee
She shall sing us out of the terrible mess
She is the mistress of Doug McMillion
This man can save us all!!
Brigitte, who is this man you call Doug?
Why Emmanuel he is the president of Walmart
He has squashed many Black Fridays rebellions
He shall save us all!!!!!!
From these unruly unsavory Nutella shoppers!!!!!
Vive la France!
Vive Alizee
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri
C'est ton droit et ta liberté
Translations
Allons-y = Lets go, pronounced similar to Alizee
Magasins = Stores
N'est pas is written on sound should be "N'est ce pas"
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri = Eat your macaroon cookies my love"
C'est ton droit et ta liberte = Is your right and your liberty
During the time before television came to our home, My dad sat there in his car on many a dark Southern night. And I was somewhere close by, enjoying a wonderful
game of Major League Baseball on the radio.
O, there were several teams in the majors like The Pirates,
The White Socks and The Red Socks were popular
teams. But in my town in Northern Mississippi, baseball was all about the Cardinals, the Dodgers, and the Yankees.
There were many sights and sounds of baseball beaming from radios and television sets. I must say that I mean no disrespect to other good and decent sportscasters,
but Harry Carry and Pee Wee Reese made us feel like we
were there in the stands.
My dad had lots of friends, but two were rivals in the game.
There was his friend, the Yankee man name Mr. Baines;
And then, Mr. Mon, his other friend, was a Dodger fan.
But my dad’s heart was in St. Louis with Stan the Man.
In the memory of my mind, I can hear those games now on the radio.
Those nights were dark and hot, but the baseball captured and calmed me.
Reading newspapers and enjoying a baseball game on the radio were two
things my dad and I shared together. But also, later on, we obtained a television. With the snapshots tucked away in the frames of my mind, after 50-plus years, I can still see the Baseball Game of the Week.
I'm rather certain that neither my dad nor his two friends ever graced the stadiums of their teams. I'm proud to say that it was through them that I developed a deep love for the game. So, in a way, when I saw two games at Wrigley Field in Chicago, they were there also; or when I enjoyed two games of the Giants at Candlestick Park in San Francisco, they sat right next to me.
They say that baseball is America’s great past time experience;
but for me, baseball was always about ‘now and then’, ‘today, and
‘tomorrow’ too. It was about a little country boy fantasizing
and dreaming today about what could be tomorrow.
Written 042010; Entry122422PS Contest, Matt Caliri, Poetry in Motion
The National Pastime, Phillip Garcia
also: (Screwed XV11 Contest, Rod Carmack; 10th Pl)
I remember it well, and it's such a joy to tell of the fun
we had playing with toy cars and trucks in the sand box.
It was both thrilling and challenging as I played my roles
in the school's stage plays. Each day after lunch, we were
treated with overwhelming play times during school recesses.
The most dreadful sound was that of the bell calling us back to classes,
and during those cold winters, the pot-belly heaters always kept us warm.
We took for granted the security of knowing that we were loved and protected.
Poindexter, Gaston, White, Sexton, were early child-hood teachers
that taught me the three R's, good manners, and even how to sew.
We made great use of the few toys our parents could afford and wasted
no times feeling sorry for ourselves. We played driving tractors and cars
with worn out rubber tires, and when our cap pistols were worn out, we
simply used sticks. When our BB guns wore out, we made our own sling
shots and bow and arrows. We had no swimming pools, private or public,
but we jumped into the nearest creek never mindful of mud or pollution.
No real play grounds with merry-go-rounds, sliding boards, and swing sets.
We played ball next to railroad tracks as well in cow pastures and never
missed touching every base in spite of the many cow pies.
Not to be forgotten are some of the men in my little farming community who were friends of my father. Mon, Tanny, Sam, Jeff, Pete, Dude, Bains, and so many more who helped in the formation of my character. All their names began with 'Mr.'
1128 2018PoSoupContest, My Youth, Craig Cornish
All aboard the Fantasy M/S of Carnival
for half a week’s vacation time of fun and falderal.
Hear greetings from your captain, his director and the crew.
Ready, set, get going. The Bahamas wait for you.
Bon Voyage! There’s Reggae music playing on the Lido.
Dinner is at 6 or 8. Hold off on that tuxedo!
You could eat a pizza by the Windows On the Sea
or go beneath to dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d’.
Gamble or see comedy; reflect upon the ocean.
Late to bed; relax your head; sense the soothing motion.
Rise and shine in Freeport where the ship will dock all day.
You can disembark to take a tour, or you can stay.
On board the ship, take a dip; lounge or dance Calypso.
Get yourself massaged; work out, shop or play some bingo.
All day long, you can find folks doing funny things
like contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.
Day two when you waken, you will be in Nassau.
There’s stuff for everyone, from your kiddies to your grandma!
Little ones may stay behind. Folks will entertain them,
or the kids can tag along with the adults. No problem!
If you like adventure, visit lovely Blue Lagoon.
For snorkeling with sting rays, the boat leaves right at noon.
You can pet some dolphins, but extra you should pay
if you want to swim with them. That’s one special day.
In town you might be nabbed by a plaza beautician.
Getting braids is all the rage, so people get their hair done.
Get back to the gangway before the ship sets sail.
If you‘re still not having fun, you must be a door nail!
“Day at Sea” arrives as your trip is winding down,
And the biggest night is coming; women wear a gown!
That final evening dining perhaps with a new friend,
you’ll wish instead of ending, it were starting all again.
Gals and guys with braided scalps; everyone looks nice.
Ah, that midnight feast with pretty sculptures carved in ice.
The ultimate for leisure if you’re after more than snoozing’.
In the laid-back natives lingo: “Mon, you best be cruising!”
NOTE: (this describes a vacation I took about 12 years ago, my first
and probably last cruise ever, unless I come into money. haha.
I'd seen Europe in my youth but as vacations go,this truly was
the best one.)
For Carol Brown's Contest: "It's Time for a Vacation"
Quand le jour se levera, la lumiere eclaira
la bonte divine nous reviendra et l'amour s'eclatera dans nous
voila les chemins menant de partout
les passagers et les amis de la mort sont la
les gardiens de la volonte les guident.
Quand la terreur reignera, le jour deviendra tout noir
la paix prendra la fuite, la vie nous quittera
l'amour disparaitra sous nos yeux
moi voila que le corps de mon corps me quitte.
Je deteste ma vie, voila que je l'ai toujours fait
mon ame est en route de demenagement
j'ai toujours voulu connaitre mon existence
mais le temps m'a toujours empeche de le connaitre
pauvre moi, j'ai la foi et la volonte mais la force me manque.
J'ai la chaleur dans moi et la honte dans mon coeur
mon ame et mon corps me brillent
j'ai la sensation d'une petite etre, sur cette enorme terre
ma vie est en danger, je l'ai voulu et voila que je l'ai perdu
je l'ai manque et je suis dans le desespoir.
Mon coeur me lache, la vie me blesse, me deteste et m'humiliee
la terreur me guide, mes pieds sont devenus des bois et la terre du feu
ca me chauffe sans arret
je suis dans le noir, le tenebre qui m'entoure ne me donne pas pause
il me guide chaque jour et m'oblige a tout donne
je laisse tout et je pese sur coeur.
La meilleur facon de mes meilleurs moments, me faite et me creee la honte
parmis ceux qui etaient les mien
ca me chauffe, ca me fait mal
la honte me reclame
j'ai la jeunesse sous mes yeux mais je touche la vieillesse
je jaunie comme les bananes de mes enceintres
je reflechi mais ma memoire est deja si fatigue
mon coeur est fache contre moi, il me quitte sans pitie
je reste avec un trou enorme dans ma poitrine.
Le gout de mes levres est deja amer
j'ai la poesie au bout de ma langue et la justice sous mes levres
la colere des dieux me reclame, le pouvoir des mien est indesirable
je ne suis plus moi meme, lorsque je n'entend plus ce petit voix dans moi
qui m'indique le chemin et me montre le beau cote des choses.
La terreur des dieux est tout pres
ca fait honte de mandier celui que t'as neglige et blesse dura ton existence
mon coeur est en larme, c'est quoi d'abord vivre?
la puissance de la nuit nous tombe dessus, oui, toi et moi
nous allons pleures, cries et mourir de peur
le jour du jugement est la!
Form: