Long Nay Poems

Long Nay Poems. Below are the most popular long Nay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nay poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Cannibal

In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
Have they gone suddenly silent, these yearlings tender lambs,
In the stilled quiet amongst the melting snows of winter,
The mountain fields run crimson, and an eerie stench oozing
Upon the winds of distain!
The cannibal lies within the forest of the towered halls, 
In the giant fortresses of mankind, he does stalk amongst his own brethren,
No wolfed bite of treachery could leave such a mark of
Terror, as he the beast, whom would feast upon the raw flesh
Of his kindred kind!
A gentlemen chamleon blending amongst the tailcoats
Of learned men, sheathed within the amour of intelligence's,
A humanistic wolf moves flawlessly, within the herds of the
Meek and mild, to pick his victims of the city flock 
At his leisure of desires pleasure!
Underneath the outstretched wings of the red dragon,
The bubbling caldron pot of truest evil, does runneth over,
With the gravy’s leavening's of the corruption and violence,
Welcoming this creature of the demonic to the dinning 
Table of the unrighteous and wicked!
Black sheep, black sheep, do you have any wool,
The whittend lamb does ask, nay but in the woods
Therein, lies many go within the wolves din and take
What you like at your own risk of course, my innocent
Friend, but beneath the blackened skinned wool the 
Wolf does smile, with a sheepish grinning!
In an extravagant restaurant a well-mannered gentlemen,
Orders the specialty of the house to go, later he adds
He adds his special ingredients, spiced to the taste
Buds of the cook himself, it sizzles with an unusual 
Oromia of well-cooked human flesh, the cannibal
Smiles with delight at his culinary masterpiece,
As the police knock at his door, with a missing
Persons report!
In the jail cell of the lost souls, he the cannibal known
As Hannibal Lector has no regrets, except say one,
The meal he never got to finish! 
In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.


The Alta Dena Cow

There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena.  Near also,
is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there.  I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist.  I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any.  Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all.  I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed.  The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal.  I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search.  Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem:

      A Search Continues

Something very hush-hush is going on
and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell.
All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair
yet Bo would stare contentedly at us
with no incursive moo directed at the hellish
vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass.
That ever-present cud must still
be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder
must be filled.

Yet none admit to having sighted her. 
Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian
will dare so much as low on her behalf,
no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange
his bold, testicular desire 
to service mewling ruminants
who merely run away.

Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be,
and cowards not--and if you do not see
their wisdom, chalk it up to power,
Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily
in jeopardy before a single squeeze,
not of a nipple but a trigger
thus applied, and speeding out of sight.

Challenge, indeed, our quest to find
this noble and prolific queen
who dominates with graceful quietude
her milky empire slurping quite
without a care, lush liquid destined
not to slosh within her, rather
in those tumescent tummies
ever crying out for more.

Would I betray them for a share?
Of course. Away with those content
to sour the milk of human kindness
with deception. Let the  search go on!
       ~

The Path I Seek

I seek not to be a presence. Forces beyond my control dictate the interactions I will have with those who come across my path. These forces disturb me in ways that I cannot understand, yet I react to them with efficiency. 

Subtlety is not one of my traits. Even now, I am poised to move in the direction to which I am called. It is a direction that could have great impact. Although I may waver in the course set before me, I am nonetheless committed until another force impedes me. 

On the path I seek, I can see farther than one can imagine. Even though I only have one eye, it is an eye that is clear, an eye that makes a statement. You would think that having only one eye, any spinning and turning I do would make me extremely dizzy. Nay, say I, I move ahead on the path I seek. 

On course, on time, and always considering my wall. It is not a wall to jump over, or to keep me from something or someone. Instead, it is everything and everyone else who would need or want to have a wall equivalent to mine. Theirs would be a wall to keep me from them. 

The path I seek can be strewn with objects that tend to slow me down. Nonetheless, I struggle against them, and keep surging forward. I depend on my own wrath and fury to keep me moving ever closer to my stated purpose, whatever it may be. At some point, I know I will lose all ability to continue down the path I seek. 

Along the path I seek, I watch events unfold before me with my one eye. It is an eye that, while surrounded with moisture, does not blink, shows little mercy, and does not cry. It does not cry even as my wall begins to crumble. The crying is only left to those dear beings I leave behind along my path. 

I wish I could feel the lives I touch but, the harsh truth is, I have no feelings. I am a creation that will never know what a feeling is. And thus, no love, no hate, no joy, no sadness will stay me from the path I seek. 

Alas, my wrath and fury are destined to die a slow death as I continue along the path I seek. I will not be missed, but I may be remembered. I will surely be cursed and called a monster. 

And before my eye finally sleeps, I get one last peek at where I have been. 
Still, I cannot cry over the destruction and anguish I have wrought during my passing. I only know that I will come this way again, because that is what hurricanes do along the paths they seek.   
END
Form: Narrative

Ah Tis Nothing Greater Than

Ah... tis nothing greater than...
malfunctioning heater on brisk winter day!

Thee particular date being
December twenty eighth,
two thousand nineteen, I saith
the Jack of all trades
maintenance technician

Kevin Blank said he would notify
HVAC expert in good faith,
yet to compliment clangorous din...
I called upon the ghost of Marley's wraith.

Thus despite compressor issuing
cacophonous, deafening,
ear splitting noise
clattering din louder
than convention of reindeer - 
doubled as all boys

(choir) followed by cavalcade
of santa claus, he employs,
the missus of course with equipoise,
and countless elves pressed
for service mending
broken brand new toys.

Why... yes twas during
recent brutal bitter cold spell
methought, yours truly got sent,
where absolute zero temperature
more frigid than hell

of course, I felt like human popsicle
management didn't give a lick,
no matter yours truly gave rebel yell
Billy me you, I immediately
yearned (some weeks back) for April
May, June... some tell
tale sign to alleviate pell mell

bone crushing polar vortex
preserved frozen awful
botox smile impossible mission to quell,
nor avoid frostbite 
to deep freeze every cell
millenniums later despite
climate changed dystopian future
thawed out body reason to kvell.

Forsooth mindlessly jabbering away
jaw frenziedly attempting to convey
how this schlemiel,
would be war re: not game to foray
toward distant forbidding terrain
fifty shades of gray,
alien unrecognizable – nay

boor hood of the late Mister Rogers,
nonetheless expressed gratitude
confessed, I unconsciously did pray
while suspended animation did stay

slowing or stopping
of biological function
physiological capabilities
unpitted and preserved - yea.

Hence upon being
and getting woke
feeling like I slept forever
and a day - no joke
most certainly well rested

constitution I did evoke
intensely scrutinizing men
chilled wren, and women folk,
who appeared out of this world
mutated into Roanoke
smooth as glass skin cloak

against ultraviolet rays
causing skin cancer
their attenuated limbs strong as oak
versatile to prod and poke,
whereby superior petsmart
doggone noggin could invoke

telepathic communication
interestingly enough issuing smoke
signals, whenever danger present
and capable to disappear
as if doing breast stroke.

May Loc Nuoc

Khi mà ngu?i dân b?t d?u nh?n ra ngu?n nu?c sinh ho?t ngày càng m?t an toàn thì cung là lúc h? b?t d?u chú ý hon d?n nhung dòng thi?t b? có ch?c nang l?c nu?c.

Xem thêm: www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbcg7JZIaaoLH1mPhyRMmZCqGyPsXSOB9

Trên th? tru?ng hi?n nay có hàng ngàn các dòng máy l?c da d?ng c? v? m?u mã l?n tính nang, tuy nhiên chúng ta không th? dánh giá qua v? b? ngoài c?a nh?ng thi?t b? ?y d? bi?t du?c thi?t b? dó có t?t hay không, có cho ra ch?t lu?ng nu?c du?c hay không, mà chúng ta c?n ph?i d?a vào co ch? l?c ? bên trong thi?t b?, cùng v?i h? th?ng l?c nu?c c?a s?n ph?m.

V?y thì khi mu?n ch?n mua 1 dòng s?n ph?m l?c phù h?p v?i nhu c?u s? d?ng nu?c c?a gia dình mình thì nên ch?n dòng máy nào? Khi mà trên th? tru?ng có quá nhi?u dòng máy d? cho b?n l?a ch?n.

Không ch? nh?ng dòng máy l?c nu?c nhu là Nano Geyser TK5, hay là dòng TK8 m?i du?c yêu thích c?a thuong hi?u Geyser mà dòng máy l?c Nano Geyser Ecotar 4 cung vô cùng n?i b?t. Ðây cung là dòng máy l?c trong s? nh?ng dòng máy c?a Geyser có kh? nang l?c nu?c vô cùng t?t.

Xem thêm: www.facebook.com/maylocnuocnanogeysertk88loithehemoi/

Không ph?i ai cung bi?t 1 di?u, dó là ecota là v?t li?u x? lý t?ng h?p do t?p doàn Geyser nghiên c?u và phát tri?n lên. chính là v?t li?u da nang nh?t có kh? nang x? lý du?c nhi?u thành ph?n t?p ch?t ? trong nu?c, mà ch? c?n nh? m?t v?t li?u duy nh?t này. V?t li?u da nang Ecotar có th? x? lý du?c toàn b? các thành ph?n kim lo?i n?ng cung nhu là các ch?t hóa h?c d?c h?i khác nhau nhu là thành ph?n Amoni, s?t, nitrat và nhi?u ch?t khác gây h?i d?n s?c kh?e c?a ngu?i s? d?ng. Chính vì v?y, v?t li?u Ecotar dã giúp cho dòng máy l?c Ecotar c?a thuong hi?u Geyser tr? nên vô cung uu vi?t và d?c bi?t n?i b?t.

Bên ra thì dòng máy l?c Ecotar 4 t?i các c?a hàng May loc nuoc Geyser tai Dong Nai còn có kh? nang c?i thi?n ngu?n nu?c m?t cách vô cùng hi?u qu?, và giúp ngu?n nu? có m?t v? thanh mát t? nhiên. Chính vì ngu?n nu?c ngay sau khi du?c x? lý, luôn có du?c s? tinh khi?t tuy?t d?i và v? ng?t mát vô cùng t? nhiên. V?y nên n?u s? d?ng nu?c du?c l?c ra t? máy l?c Nano Geyser Ecotar 4 thu?ng xuyên d? dun n?u th?c ph?m thì ch?t lu?ng b?a an c?a gia dình b?n cung s? du?c c?i thi?n và ngon mi?ng hon dáng k?. Nh? vào nh?ng uu di?m dó, nên dòng máy l?c Nano Geyser Ecotar 4 cao c?p này, luôn dón nh?n du?c s? yêu thích và uu tiên l?a ch?n t? phía khách hàng.
Form: Bio


Premium Member Concrete and Cyclones

Oh, fear! The sinister finger of a tornado!

                                Twisting, spinning, spiraling in turbulent

                         toroidal twirls of angry winds and high

                    pressures, few forces - natural or nay -

                are as destructive or as frightening or

              as beautiful! Yes, I am myself afraid

              of those weaving beasts of spinning

                horror, for there are few things as

                   certain to bring unavoidable death

                        and destruction, but I have also

                              always been drawn so to their

                                 violent beauty and power, and

                                     their affect on atmosphere and

                                       light. There is little anyone can

                                       do to avoid their wrath if they

                                      find you, and that assured ill

                                   anger of nature is why they

                             are so reviled ... buildings,

                         cars, animals, trees, bits,

                   pieces, farms, insects,

               trucks, people, pets,

             houses, things that

           grow, move, stand

           still, fixed, loose,

            secured - there

              is hardly any-

                thing that is

                    outside the

                        mix of the

                            horror, but

                                   if you are

                                           a broad,

                                                   strong,

                                                           long,

                                                                   flat, 
                                                                       
                                                        ....,,,,~>>~,,,,....

- Smooth, deep, thick, hard, layer of the finest concrete, then you are SOLID! -






Submitted on November 22, 2020
To the "SHAPE UP" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor

~ 1st Place ~  in the "The Shape Of My Art" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
Form: Concrete

Premium Member As Length'Ning Shadows, Filter Thru These Aching Hours

(1.)

Dare I Compose, This Heartfelt Poem For Thee

Dare I reveal, dare to my soul expose
No longer hide behind life's hidden pose
Return to Southern roots, a simple man
Forget this dark world's constant wicked plans
Remember her, life's most beautiful rose
She the sweet goddess, that this poor man chose.

Dare I compose, this heartfelt poem for thee
Pray to Heaven to one day again see
Together walk those streets paved in gold
Hold each other always, never grow old
Wake each dawn, with Heaven 's love all around
With you darling, forever by my side
In divine paradise wading love's tide.

Dare I ink the words, darling I love you
Just to hear you say, yes, I love you too
Return to Southern roots, a simple man
Forget this dark world's constant wicked plans.

Robert J. Lindley, 
Romanticism,
Dedicated To Blessing Of And Precious Memory Of-
( My Most Beloved Wife Clarisa, She That Saved Me )

*****
(2.)

As Length'ning Shadows, Filter Thru These  Aching Hours


As length'ning shadows, filter thru these  aching hours
Seeing flowers bloom, I lower both sword and shield
Yet in the black-distance still loom angry towers
For this world its angry powers refuse to yield
Dare I, beg this cursed world for a peaceful sign
As if this moment, Karma and golden moon align
Nay! To do such, what  a great knave fool would be I
For Karma rang no bell and day holds no moon sky!

Standing alone, this soul seeks happiness again
As a wasted form, worn down by epic grief
Here walking through life, with overloads of pain
Crying out and at moment devoid of belief
Dare I, in such a state, again raise this sharp sword
Wade into battlefield, a brave soldier to be
Cutting and slashing the dark-cast and evil hordes
Tho' knowing, more will arise from a hellish sea?

Here wherein twilight shades are forever falling
And darkness its turmoil dances into my head
I cannot help but hear heartache and loss calling
Do I, do I thus choose to run away instead
Dare I, fail my raising, deny my Southern roots
Speed ever onward past grief, fears and bitter years
Absorb the poison arrows the enemy shoots
As they whizz on through this volley of falling tears?

Here wherein twilight shades are forever falling.
I cannot help but hear heartache and loss calling.

Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme, ( Looking inward, Hoping to Life again Find )
Form: Rhyme

The Askance Chapter 3 Part 2b

“The only light from a sword have sheltered me from despair
The balance of reality and dreams, welcomes nothing to compare
Dreams were afterall the insanity of one’s desire
Made to believe moments before the awakening hour
This belongs the true origin since the fall of the humans
The curse brought from our love to cause The Ancients total domination
Moments since loved, to love to then unlove
I give to you only truth afar from lies to serve”

{Years of yore, a time somewhence atween the Holy War
A prophecy is soon to begin its outcry once more
Humanities who were forged to serve the Battalion Goddess were dying away
Prayers in blood were dis-spirited souls praying to live another day
Yet despairs to the Heavens never seem to be heard
Where forth the Battalion Goddess, where is the Goddess of Word?
The Goddess who mortals seek hope in, bears one in many prophecies
The one to lead till the end of war, to rid the Ancients of miseries
However, the DarkLord Alkzadrius, only grew ever stronger each dusk
Every other night to those who live, only promises to be last
There was then this one night, in the ruins throughout The Ancients
A brightest of light shone from a seemingly farthest of distance
Two figures emerge from beyond, one a woman and another a man
And the very might of the moment itself, have had evil dissolving into the sands
Every other minions who came in their way were vanquish
Even spells and curses cast upon the terrain had discreetly vanish
Sensing victory for the night, mortals around raise their swords and fought
Yet the battle were already won at hearts without so much a thought!
It was raining a subtle when dawn finally arrive
That day, every mortal to witness the birth had survive
Humanities rejoice in triumph to the Champions of the lands
Peace being the one hope for all time, was only just a matter of when
The prophecy remains to be true… prayers were heard
Evermore so, mortals reunited to serve once more the Goddess of Word
Every battle were won, wherever the Champions of the Word were to walk
In time, they were feared by most every minions of the Darklord
Alkaiya, the name enchanted by the people for the mistress of War
Being the one who beholds the Bow of the Word hence fore
And the Knight of the Word who has without a bearing name
Who wield the Sword of Sin where evil is nay to remain}
© Joel Lee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Atheists In Foxholes

Two young men in vietnam 
Sit in a foxhole one night
While chatting and talking about there families
and sharing pictures of each others wives

But along in the Dark distance
Came a bright and shimmering light
The light came down from the sky
like a shooting star in midflight

Charley was spreading
into the jungles of the night
Shouting out to one another 
Tat ca deu chet dêm nay 
which means they all die tonight 

As the men laid in the foxhole
watching people running for there life
One of the men said we must flee
the other man said not I

The one man said
In the bright shimmering light
But why does one not flee 
and run too save his own life

The other man looked deep
Deep down in the man's eyes
and says I shall do as my fathers did
I shall stay, I shall fight and I shall die

The fleeing man had a face
a face full of surprise
He asked why does thou not flee with me
on this very hour tonight

He said I just can't do it
it's not the way I was raised
my mother always taught me
to  have a little faith

See I believe in God
and I believe he has a plan
and if it's my time to go
might as well be like a man

So now do you see why,
why one does not flee tonight
why I choose to stay 
and risk my life and fight?

The fleeing man said no
and ran into the dark jungle night

So the one man kept his word
with every inch of his might
sitting in his little foxhole
and fighting throughout the rest of the night

Until his upmost surprise
came mornings first daylight
he seemed to have survived
survived for one more night

Re-gathered with his troops
all thankful to be alive
the man began to search
for his friend that ran off that night

asking all the troops
if they had seem him around
he finally came to the realization
that his friend was nowhere to be found

But he forgot to check
where he should have looked before
because there laid his friend colorless
and lifeless on the floor

So the Vietnam war ended, it took so many lives
but the man who said that he shall stay and fight
now lives at home with that same wife

for he every sunday
visits a tall white ivory stone
on the front it reads, I miss you
and I cant believe that your gone

But with all the Commemorative plaques
and monumental poles
theres one saying that still holds true
there are no atheists in foxholes
Form: Verse

The Footfalls Towards Forever - Part 2 of 3

… On The Gist of Where A Gather Melts Hate’s Glacier
On The Nexus of Need & Knowing True Love’s Nature
On The Passage of Innocence To Please Forgive Us Prayers
On The Way To Meet Wide Open Arms of Our Maker
On Edge of Evening and Eden’s Promised Favors …

stretched The Trail of Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …

There Lay A Storm-Tossed Loch Between The Rifts
A Charcoal Sky That Seemed Heavy & Propped By Stilts
She Was At The Limits of Her ‘All That She Could Do Lists’
She Was On The Verge of Vanishing Into Vanity’s Myths
While Searching Between Urgency and An Internal Eclipse

… ventured the Interim of Soft Footfalls Towards Forever

She Took One Last Stiff ‘Uisge Beatha’ Spirit-Sip To Lips
She Heard The Last, Lone Note of A Bagpipe’s-Signal, Lilt
Envisioned The Strong Stance & Clan Colors of His Kilt
and The Rich-Hued-Tow Head, Which Shone Like Gilt …

 as He Strode The Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
(Her Eyes Closed But Her Course Kept At Canter)
 
Eyes Closed … Tho’ That’s Not Why It Had Gone Black
She Can Nay See How To Finish Thru To Their Trek-Pact
She Must Rest On A Narrow, Not-Well-Beaten Path
Will He Cover The Distance From What Her Last Legs Lack?
… Even If She Has Stopped & Dropped Dead In Her Tracks
Will He Come To Find and Bring Her Unfalteringly Back? …

from Earth-Packed, Soft Footfalls Towards Forever?
Her Eyes Closed, But True Love’s In-Sight, Closes Never


He Found Her, Eyes Closed … Swollen, Squeezed Into Slits
He Saw The Puffed Flesh Where The Poison Had Been Spit
He Saw Her and Traced The Tears She’d Held Back Then Spilt
Saw Her Lovely Face Framed By Curly Dark-Red, Wet-Wisps
& Finger-Nail Marks Where Her Hands Clenched Into Wee Fists …

Formed & Fashioned Her Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
(His Bonny Lass, Woven In His Tartan & Tam’s Token Feather)

He Saw The Emerald Heirloom Wrapped Around Her Wrists
But He’d Not See In This World, Her Twin Sparkles, Again A–Glist’
His Own Eyes Became Mirrors of A Flooded Dam That Split
He Took On The Burden That She Had Endured This Tryst
Yet He Could Not Bear The Thought of Her Feeling A–Jilt
As He Carried Her Where Clouds Covered Them Like Quilts
 Each Sorrowed Step & Stone & Step Spanned Breach & Breath & Built …

the Bridge That Balances & Blankets:  Footfalls Towards Forever …


(to be continued on Part 3 of 3)


Written & ©:  1/ 3-6 /2013

by:  MoonBee Canady
Form: Ballad

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