Long Myths Poems
Long Myths Poems. Below are the most popular long Myths by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Myths poems by poem length and keyword.
I don't ask anyone for much
no more than I'm willing to give myself
I learned to temper my expectations a long time ago
the consequence of constant disappointment
disillusioned down to the deepest depths of my soul
after all I’ve been told that has proven untrue
people pretending to think and feel differently than they do
their mask melting away to reveal their real visage
brandishing blades they thrust into my back
gutted as by a Samurai committing Seppuku
run through by swords of insincerity
my screams rendered silent
I bear the blame and shame they refuse to claim
upon my own broad shoulders
my snaky spine bowing under the weight like Quasimodo
A simple salutation would be a start to heal my harrowed heart
some sort of abstract acknowledgement
assurance that I’m more than a collection of cells
consuming resources with no productive purpose
that my words aren’t wasted on this apathetic world
where it seems everyone strives only to feed their own ego
How can one catch another’s attention
without coming across as crazy?
I’ve never seen the inside of a prison or a psychiatric facility
aside from a couple that had been converted into museums
A weary woman embarking on an expedition
searching for any shred of evidence of the elusive "nice guy'
unpretentious people who aren’t afraid to prove they care
others attest are out there, not merely mythical creatures
but then some say the same about Bigfoot
Maybe the existence of an eight foot ape is more believable
Life's passions all absorbed on green grasses
as the innocent treasures tamed and measured
accordingly we shy away the aftermath of past
stoned bridges enhance the connection point
while the cold calmness unwind the myths
for our must we define a place hidden where as
the teak wood stained with old disagreements
left unsaid and so morbidly left undone
as we hinder to blades of shame while
the light in the chambers of this excellent
brownstone manner as the banner swing
my own practice in my own time as this is
my space a place where inside looking out speaks
to the gnomes on the lawns why the rain leaks
the lost pebbles from pass over showers
distinctively poured like clock work and yet
the client approaches the foyer the beginning
of a sit down as the Lincoln doors are doing
an open and shut dance for the laws in the land
as I charm the gnomes at Cambridge arms
The summer was lush with death,
it turned the hare into a twirling dervish,
the raccoon to a pantomime villain,
forced mice
to sing in the jaws of predators.
The woods are bare now,
trees rattle,
birds clatter twiggy wings,
briar tangles
in the bare throats of scarecrows.
October gourds glow, there serrated grins
reflected within the eyes
of late stalking cats.
Nocturnal winds sweep in,
bone corseted myths
ride upon the cracked racks
of desiccated lambs.
Petticoats hang from gristly limbs
much tattered by thorns.
By December, the skeletal woods
crunch inwards like roofless catacombs.
Reckless children are lost
in a leafless maze of fairytales.
Mothers tag the young
like puppy dogs, vaccinate them
against dismay.
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reent edit
The man had always seen the dolphin in his tree…he never had a doubt
and using a chain saw when that live oak died…he let that dolphin out.
You see his parents used to love the stars…they’d sit for hours enjoying the view
and through the myths and legends they told to him….he learned to love them too.
But of all the stories they related…none of them was greater
than the one about the constellation Delphinus…
(found just north of the equator).
This story took place a long time ago…in the 7th century BC:
It seems Arion, a wealthy court musician, was on his way back from Sicily.
when the crew of the ship he was on…unconcerned for Arion’s health
conspired against the musician…to relieve him of his wealth.
The crew offered Arion a choice…with no place for him to flee…
they would kill him where he stood or he could fling himself into the sea.
Deciding to throw himself overboard…and knowing he didn’t have long
Arion asked his captors…if he could sing a song.
So beautiful was his singing…so sad and hypnotic to the ear
that a pod of dolphins out of nowhere gathered round…to hear.
and when Arion finally flung himself into the sea…according to folklore
a dolphin, charmed by the beauty of his singing, carried him to shore….
The God, Apollo, as a reward for saving Arion from a certain death at sea
found that dolphin a place among the stars…for all eternity.
Today that man continues to see that dolphin
as he enjoys the stars in an evening breeze
and he no longer wonders why he also sees them
among the rocks, in the clouds…in the trees…
For he knows it goes back to those quiet nights
and the part his parents played in his creation...
in opening of a young boy’s mind
and the birth of his imagination.
If we could cross the sunset skies,
We'd never need a place to lie,
Finding ourselves above all else,
We could fly until the end of time.
But what goes up must also come down,
Although in spirit form we shall be joined,
So fly we will for all eternity,
Perhaps we'll find our true energy.
On a serpent's tail, we'll ride till then on Draco,
And float down the river of Eridanus,
Ride on the winged horse of Pegasus,
Visit the harp of Lyra and gaze at Vega.
Stay in the summer triangle with Aquila,
Then off to the winter triangle to gaze at Sirius,
With so many wonders in all the constellations,
We may even find if all the myths are true.
But if they aren't I'll still have my star you.
I was born in ancient Egypt, a girl,
a princess with a necklace of pearl;
death came while still young,
my beauty still unsung . . . .
My tomb holds myths written and art,
drawings depicting an underworld chart;
with each dawn I have a beating heart.
I roam the world during the day,
at night in my tomb, I lay;
in the sun, I am happy and gay.
Not alone am I, destined to endless time,
we can slip into your world anytime;
appear quite normal, quite sublime,
but always this girl- will bring a necklace of pearl.
my name is Tirah . . .
__________________________
April 26, 2017
Rhyme/Tirah, Mythology Fantasy
Copyright Protected, ID 895697
YGGDRASIL Me Contest
White Wolf
__________________________
Just my imagination, no such girl or myth.
It requires magical thinking
to put things in the right way
Back then there was never a race against the clock
An evaporated history, the core of the truth
As bits of humor, from the stately wedding
No matter how wild the story was
not all myths were debunked
The groom Maximus died on the wedding night
his young wife was still a virgin
He wanted to rise above his own mortality
and never left this house
The abandoned stately property became haunted
Rumors are telling,
that he is still looking for his attractive maiden
Fungi, fungus, funguses thousand fold,
eukaryotic life kingdom of yeast and mold.
Ancient legends and myths from many times,
beginnings and ends through mulching slimes.
Egyptians sensed the connection in fungi to gods,
only Pharaohs allowed to have them as foods.
Consuming the fungi to become immortal static,
Mushroom stones in Mesoamerica enigmatic.
The Rig Veda describes the juice of Soma,
considered as precious liquid of stardust and earth aroma.
Indispensable in all worships and ritual,
similar to Greek deities of cognate ambrosia.
Consumed in Shamanic sessions to contact spirits of the dead,
fortifying long hunting trips an dreams thread.
Penicillin antibiotics against bacterial infection,
surviving the war with needed invention.
Psilocybin and psilocin magic shrooms,
DMT, acid blotters magic truffles booms.
Alice in wonderland and the philosopher’s stone,
introspective hallucination and psychosis throne.
Natures secret language by mildews organisms,
earths everlasting fungi dew compost prism.
As dragonflies squint in the rayless night.
My glimmer of whimsy embraces flight.
Yet faith wanes, and enthusiasm is slight.
As lambency falters—the horizon is bleak.
In a stupendous stupor—drifting on the creek.
All my hopes and wishes were dubious.
The path to gloat is fraught with malicious.
Each stage entailed making us furious.
My whimsy used to be—as bright as a rainbow.
Overall, they're vanishing - along with the glow.
Moon by day is superb, and myths delight.
Gibbous and full moons are rich and unique.
Crest of soft verve in love delirious
Moon by day tells us of how our might blow.
Foolish Nonsense
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Unwavering she stood on her merits
a smile eased across her face
she had won and the project
which had been said to be a
"boondoggle" would neither
seem wasteful or unfunded.
Might morning have this
Fizgiger humbled
that the night eager
folk would wake to there
disappointment.
As mean as they would
think I am, there disappointment
would stem from the lack
of equipment which
will doom there affords.
Morning came and the cheers of many
people became jeering murmurs
I told you that this was a fictious
want that was underfunded in it's
beganning.
It had poteital but the equipment needed to
produce and reproduce wasn't
availible in this region of the world
The area is a quag mire
it's instability itself
makes it difficult to navigate
fully without regret
hearing him speak
she used his eagerness to
stop the project as a focalling point
to get things inline
it has to be in order
for success.
she sourced equipment
and things that were near to what
they needed was bought
and transformed to be usable
they developed an assembled line to mass produce
items needed
and sold things they created to fund there project.
weeks and month of endeavoring
"the work in progress' Moises
removed some of the myths
assocated with the stagnant positioning
that had limited the project in the first place.
Written By; Giggy Dancehall
Of New Tech/ Culture
a Sceince Doing Company
Here to there Productions and
Tallup Manufacturing
kaolinic clays and cement
Statue