Long Mummers Poems
Long Mummers Poems. Below are the most popular long Mummers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mummers poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh sweet fig of the night
The master has cursed your day light
You stand on the desert sand
Searching the whole night for me
While courage climb up your slender tree
I have met you somewhere in thin air
As your voice floats through the atmosphere
I can hear the mummers and whispers in the breeze
And the night shadows yearning after me
but the universe has carved out the center of the heavens
with a pick axe . a power saw and a garden fork
and the birds watch from afar in amazement
But the fig tree would not bend
it stood there planted firmly in the earth
Absorbing the energy of the whole wide world
And I watch the night vigil marched solemnly
Through the desert town and the chip monk gather
around singing an elated song in
solitude for a twisted fig crown
What does fig taste like?
Strawberry and date to wet my appetite
The taste is burnt out in the sun
And honey mixed with flowers and nuts
is appealing but only the taste is revealing
If fertility was the gift of life I would not
have made so much sacrifice
ploughing the dry thirsty ground
upon which gravity is found and
the night keeps running after me
as I searched desperately for my fig tree
Abundance and sweetness waits patiently for me
I can feel the energy floating over the Galilee sea
And the olive sprouting all around greet the fig trees
at the edge of the sea with love and dignity
Something good is going to happen to me
And heaven and earth will flourish again
When the lions are driven out of the den
The region will be fertile and everyone
will have a new found friend
and taste love, peace and joy again
despair will be blown into the sea
And courage will penetrate the fig tree
Fig will spring up everywhere
And you will have much to eat and much to share
The contention will be over, and everyone will cross over
The fig will provide nourishment for soul and it will
Teach you how to be bold
You stand there looking at me
What do I have to do with thee?
I am going to Egypt and turkey
To look for my fig tree.
When the mind's disease is hate
it flows through the veins unchecked
I'm just a voice of reason in the midst of darkness
striking a match
a light for minds seeking refuge from a storm
and lift a crying child above hate's swollen river
that may sweep us away
People are angry, their Earth shakes
lighting flashes, children cry, crowds move as rivers
their mummers becoming louder
confusion fills their mind, fear fills their lungs
they are tossed between rage and reason
Demons rise to shackle their fragile souls
to a long history of claiming purity
frightened hearts beat louder
echoing through the valley of self-righteousness
as they march in step with unfurled flags
demanding all follow their worn graveled path
of self-illusion
the scythe they wield sweeps through the marrow
of anyone who questions
why they confiscate freedom in freedoms name
Who dare stands to lift the crying child
from the grasp of the angry crowd
giving hope, where there is madness
as the young stalk of democracy burns brown
withering away from a drought of common sense
urged on by those seeking power
using lies to move the mob, like pawns
because they see the world changing around them
and wear the heavy coat of brutality from their own history
fearful of their own sins of reservations and hangings
this is the same demon led crowd that yelled '' Give us Barabbas ''
8/21/21
“It’s time,” she said in a deep throaty voice,
She picked him up and carried the preacher who had little choice,
He hung over her shoulder as she walked with ease,
Her blistering flesh when she touched him could be smelt on the breeze.
Now and then, she would let out a whimper from the pain,
However, a pain she was all too familiar with, she carried him to her ultimate gain.
She reached the old wooden building and opens the boor at the back,
The building housed the crowd as they parted once again for the man in black.
The people, stared shocked to see that he was alive,
Their mummers were as if it were bees in a beehive.
Then a man shouted, “His supposed to be dead, ho can this be?”
She lashed out slicing his neck, and he dropped like a freshly felled tree.
The crowd stirred into a panic and tried to smash down the door,
But, there was a powerful presence locked them in for the long awaited gore.
When their efforts of escape were fruitless, they turned to face the girl
Who’s flesh bubbled, and the stench caused many to hurl.
She dropped the preached on the elevated stage,
And clawed at her burning dead flesh like an animal enraged.
She shouted angrily in a deep throaty voice, “Who is in charge?”
A man walked toward the front, seven foot tall, muscular and large.
She flew through the air and gave him a talon embrace,
As she stuck a finger nails in his neck and gnawed off his face.
The crowd screamed some came to his aid,
But eight died too in her deadly crusade.
She walked slowly back to the front stage,
“Who is in charge?” she screeched ever more so enraged.
She fell on her back and wriggled, screaming in pain,
Her body split in four forming creatures hideously insane.
The merciless creatures hungry and wild ,
Pared not a soul skinning man woman or child.
They left them skinless but alive, to slowly die a gruesome death,
Then squelched through the blood cover floor toward the preacher who was next.
Mum’s the word
Mummer’s paradise by way of Philadelphia
High School Marching Bands competing on who is the best
All out contest
Each having musical and entertaining themes
Marching Band Captain strides
Vibe of dazzle and pop
Capturing the audience eyes
Sparkle with a surprise
Mummers only know
They never let go
Reminder in realize
Tempo lifted up a notch
Movement through every coordination
Every theme getting the audience attention
One example of one marching band
“America on Independence Day”
Centennial moment
Suddenly a finale
Confetti as fireworks of Red, White and Blue
America in pursue
Then salute
A winding road, up through the trees, finds California gold
The heart will race, and breath escapes, to see this land unfold!
Dad cherished, this, his boyhood home, a wonderland to view
and shared with us the years he grew, into a the man we knew
A home he loved so long ago, but never quite outgrew
Our family albums back at home, held pictures of lost years
When Gramps had been a mountain guide, my heritage is here
When summer came and school was done,..our family couldn't wait
To camp, explore, and marvel ore', this jewel at Heaven's gate
No picture, song, or poetry, prepares astonished eyes
The valley called Yosemite, invites a heart's delight
Hidden in the canyons of Sierra's mountain glade
Immortal is a valley, which was carved by glacier's blade
Winter melts to spring, again to quench the giant trees
Dogwoods lace the forest floor, azaleas scent the breeze
Redwoods dig their roots between the stones that reach the sky
Earth and sky meet hand in hand, where eagles nest and fly
The Bridal falls, the granite faces, we stuttered to describe
The meadows green, the mirrored lakes, Ahwahnee lodge resides..
The Mercy River cools the brow, in awe of what surrounds
Embrace the peace as evening falls, that mummers nature's sounds
El Capitan, and Half Dome seem to reach the stars so high
Reflect upon old stories told of fire in the sky
A fire built upon the cliffs, then sounds of ancient cries
A call from down below would rise,... would echo from above
And rocks would pour a flaming veil, and spill a song of love
The call of love, from tribes that roamed, a hundred years ago
Days long ago, my childhood eyes, were dazzled under stars
We'd sit around the campfire light, he'd sing and play guitar
We looked upon the granite face of Half Dome, overhead
And watch the burning embers fall, and hear a song so sad
A native call still fills the dark, within the heart of me
A place where soft light still cascades, and Daddy sang to me
................................................................................................................................
A look at Yosemite:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5RQp77uVPA
Phantom of the O.Pen
Types the likes
I've never known
Fast of the eYes
I thought mine fair
Until I laid ears
on his typeOS there...
"A Fair.O.Moans indeed..."
Blazing sound
Enlightening speed
Raising ground
from My chair I did
Awakening SOL
to see what she said
Faster then sLight
was the sound I heard
The SuperLumin.Naughty
Came.toHauntMe.inAWord
Penned aWay with a mummers sword
Blazing lights pass the sound inward
Senses dance to the trance of how
Scent of the Pen is a powerful WOW!
Comes my mind to an opening....
The Phantom of the Wind,
Is in One Of the Living.
Form: