Long New world Poems
Long New world Poems. Below are the most popular long New world by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long New world poems by poem length and keyword.
If I see balmy bliss more than bane,
Every leaf filled with fresh new wonder,
Each cloud an omen of copious rain,
The new world would nudge me to ponder…
The dismal would still bestir my brain,
The bizarre would give me boundless joy
To muse if I were a child again--
A wide-eyed wonder-struck little boy!
And for sure, I was just so of late--
As one hopes to be in his eighties,
Lovely did the world look, worth a wait,
Were I bestowed brand new pair of eyes?
A new stance has taught me how to see,
What so far was tunnel look to me.
____________________
Sonnet | 15.03.2017 | child, life, lovely/beautiful, world
Note: Set in anapaest tri-meter. And it was so despite my glaucoma-caused constrained peripheral vision.
Day One
The bomb when it fell sent the planet to hell
With unrestrained retaliation
The damage was done and the end had begun
With no hope of human salvation
I woke with a scream from that God awful dream
And took my wife into my arms
My thoughts were of lust but she crumbled to dust
And she didn’t respond to my charms
_____
Week Two
The landscape is stark for the ash cloud is dark
And the grass doesn’t grow any more
Few creatures can feast since the fire from the east
Made nothing as good as before
Then came acid rain, that again and again
Burned our skin til it was raw
But if there’s an upside, we now can go outside
The rain doesn’t burn anymore
_____
Year Three
The sidewalks I walked, where good neighbours talked
Are tangled with undergrowth, new
Those neighbours are gone but the heat lingers on
In an atmosphere no longer blue
The place that we once called ‘The city’
Is now thick with ferns, shrubs and trees
As I made a sound, a deer stood its ground
For nowadays no beast ever flees
From what I can see, he eats better than me
My nutrition comes out of a can
This jungle now covers this land, sea to sea
And nothing is scared of a man
_____
Year Ten
Surviving the blast gave the old man a laugh
Until the the Big C hit his bones
His loss has cut Earth’s population in half
I buried him with the unknowns
So now I’m the one to relate what was done
And document how man survived
An earnest presumption that soon came unspun
Ash shadows cannot be revived
_____
Year Twenty
Who might have guessed that the jabs in my chest
Would go unattended by drugs
My diet, I guess, would never impress
As I eat mostly baked beans and bugs
_____
Year — who’s counting?
So, this has been me; last man standing
My journey and journal now done
I leave this world to its rebranding
A process that’s long since begun
It seems I’ve been less than observant
For with these last breaths I have seen
That I, the last human, shall bid my farewell
To a new world that’s vibrant and green
Paternal grandmother's headstone - Beth David, Elmont, Long Island
Shaindel (Sadie), variant of Shana Harris
died May 13th, 1959 exquisitely chiseled
alphanumeric characters legibly engraved
sepulchral casket entombing lovely bones
deoxyribonucleic acid repurposed into me
Matthew Scott Harris patronymic protector,
when I die taking family surname to netherland
who unwittingly named his youngest daughter
after his recently deceased father's mother.
Mortality encompasses subsequent cremation
never mind death of yours truly unbeknownst
mine soul will migrate towards deceased kith
kindred folks only known courtesy genealogy
descendents called Eastern Europe homeland
upon landing at Ellis Island émigrés hugged
immigration officials and illegibly scribbled
unpronounceable/ unreadable birth names
subsequently adopting common shorthand.
Chromosomes reconstituted genetic material
gifted from forebears ecstatic immigrants apt
to be regaled by relatives hustling newcomers
into fast paced frenzy, the latter gesticulating
at cityscape marveling over hubbub jabbering
babble synchronized in tandem with hawkers
and vendors selling, peddling comestibles,
gewgaws, papers, et cetera predating buyer
beware analogous to innocents abroad say
by George an American in Paris humming
Rhapsody in Blue.
Agog regarding novel sights never seen within
father/mother land, viz supposed New World
blitzkrieg eventually quieted, relegated, shelved...
analogous by Dickens perusing tchotchkes
commonly found within olde curiosity shop,
yet no matter acclimatization arose espying
eye opening merchandise, the dirt poor status
regarding bloodlines a couple generations ago
immediate deterrent experienced by Aaron
Harris (papa's father) as a boy, who provided
for his family, their hardscrabble existence
only somewhat alleviated thru hook and crook.
Please pardon poetic license usurped,
especially slight exaggeration of penury
promulgated concerning up by bootstraps
scenario evinced by paternal grandfather
after he attained and emerged out boyhood,
though destitution imprinted thru his infancy
until growing up hardened qua hard school
of knocks limiting him to eighth grade education.
Man’s the window to world without, within,
Wider be it, exciting gets the scene.
The trouble is: window gets too narrow,
He neither keeps it clean, nor any bright.
Trouble is: man’s not tolerant enough
Of those that see from a different window.
Trouble is: trying to bang down locked doors,
He misses out widely open windows.
That, madly in love of same old windows,
He forgets to forge new to see new world.
Trouble is he forgets: an open mind
Be like a window that lets in fresh air,
And that the windows are not kept open,
And like windows, his mind too remains closed.
And there’s always a new world waiting out,
But then, his window’s shut and so is mind.
When a window of opportunity
Appears, the window shades oft are down.
The trouble is: vast be the outside scene,
Windows far few, tight shut, or shutters down!
And man’s marooned with just today’s story,
An epic’s waiting when to get unfold.
__________________________________________
Musings |04.08.2022| Blank verse
My Wife
What sin have I committed?
I asked time for a chance to draw closer to you—it's your thought that only I fell in love with you.
So what sin have I committed?
I'm not fighting time; I'm a victim of silence. Otherwise, you—a stranger—wouldn't be unknown to me today.
Look at your faltering gestures; do they speak of the whims of time?
You're upset too, and so am I.
Who knows what this talk of time really means.
Step out from these shadows; let's create a new world together now.
That's my only plea to you.
My Wife
Om Ganapati Namah
With love all
Jartanamb Aghori(Jagdish bajantri)
3/2/2026
Her destiny Ruth Adams squarely faced,
that innocent small child whisked off, white-faced,
one day by wild and whooping dark-eyed men,
and never more to see again her kin!
As over prairie ground fast horses raced,
her destiny Ruth Adams squarely faced.
No crying would she dare to let them see
nor fearfulness. . . not to the least degree!
Her courage and her strong will saw her through
as year by year, more wise and fair she grew.
Her destiny Ruth Adams squarely faced
inside that strange new world where she'd been placed.
Among the tribe there lived a handsome brave
whose passion burned for Ruth. At last, she gave
her heart to him . . for life must be embraced!
Her destiny Ruth Adams squarely faced
Starfire.
Flying through space with a smile on my face,
With no need to replace memories of forgotten days.
Crawling along the edges of a song, newly born;
With the innocence gone, I burn like the sun.
Starlight burns through the blood in the veins;
Pumping waste through the bitterness and unforgotten pain.
Calmness is too loud to the ears of the torn,
Ripped up on the ground. Unfaithfully a star is reborn.
Starfire flaming on the stage;
Starfire creates a burning rage.
Starfire turns night to day,
Because the star keeps burning in a star light blaze.
Sing a song from the bottom of the heart;
Love lost leads us to a whole new start.
Chasing dreams and screaming like Starfire stars;
Electronic, neurotic; I’ve gone too far!
All that I want is to die like a star;
An explosion in space that could light up the world.
All that I want is to burn like a star;
Raising fires, burning in the darkest of words.
Starfire flaming on the stage;
Starfire creates a burning rage.
Starfire turns night to day,
Because the star keeps burning in a star light blaze.
Aliens on vacation spot a superstar;
Sing a song of your creation. It’s a brave new world.
It’s a search for Spok, sing from the heart;
Sunlight dies in space; Starfire is never killed.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
On third voyage five centuries ago
sailed the Spanish Main a Queen’s fleet south-west,
and the age of discovery’s great glow
shone upon caravels in ocean quest.
Into island passage beyond gulf trail
through Boca del Dragon on landing wave
led the Genoan’s flagship under sail -
safe travelled and spared a jagged reef’s grave.
“Behold far Indies, land of sun and realm -
by crown and Royal Warrant I claim thee!”.
That virgin New World, that far crossing helm,
these possession Isles of the Trinity.
In a mariner’s tale there’s one true love -
sea and tide below and the stars above.
Written: December 1995
"The Immensities"
I shut out the world
and inside me the
deep azurine blue
jumbled pieces
of unread hues
between the
boundaries
of the lost world
within me and you
becomes Blue Sky
Sky Blue
and further inwards
through deeper true
galaxies in my mind open
revealing mysteries
unopened at the bottom
of a lake where there lies She
the Lady in a shattered cornucopia
her body tattooed
in unread stories their curlicues
shining like rare jewels
waiting to be touched
face turned up
looking through
a reflection rippling
the haunting
Just
above the surface
the inner reaches in
to touch the outer
I shut out the world
and inside me the
deep azurine blue
glistens with
jumbled pieces
of unread hues
that extinguish the jagged
like dissolving cut glass
melting their confused boundaries
inside their overflowing
war torn cries and
their stormy unsorry
torrential blues
a new world
inside
opening illusions true
The Immensities
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
" O, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand
That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray;
O, wake once more! though scarce my skill command
Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay:
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away,
And all unworthy of thy nobler strain,
Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway,
The wizard note has not been touched in vain.
Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again!"
The little humble bean
that found its way into a cup
made a splash upon the scene
after Kaldi’s goat had stirred it up
it travelled fast and well
from Ethiopia to Yemen
some called it the drink from hell
until Clement became a fan.
the aroma crossed the pond
and Boston had to celebrate
once the New World had succumbed
it quickly poured out into states
before old London knew
they served it morning, noon and night
this penny university brew
would see its name put up in lights
in newspapers and magazines
the high street flooded with its shops
a berry rarely seen
in processed form warmed more than pots
served in different ways
from skinny whites to espresso shots
cappuccinos to tall lattes
we toast the goat that time forgot.