Long Omen Poems
Long Omen Poems. Below are the most popular long Omen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Omen poems by poem length and keyword.
On a mist-veiled morning, when even hope had grown weary, a trembling black cat stopped at our door.
Its frightened eyes held the last spark of trust.
The world called it an omen of misfortune, yet gentle hands opened where others turned away.
Winter found warmth beneath a borrowed blanket. Day after day, a stranger became family.
The black fur so many feared to touch became the warmth that filled our silent evenings.
Then fate arrived.
We stood helpless, watching its frail body struggle for one more breath.
Its fading eyes asked for nothing-not mercy, not tears-
only one more moment beneath the sky that had finally called it home.
Life is a dangerous struggle
Full of inconsistencies, challenges and pains
Life is not fair even to the fair skinned
The dark skinned are not faring better either
In everyone's backyard a little rain must drop
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it.
In life, even the rich also cry
The poor in pains and agonies cries ceaselessly
The middle class have no problems 'cause they never existed
The orphans on the street go bare footed and hungry
Everyone is plagued by this turbulent journey called life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it.
Life is an endless and unpleasant adventure
Ending in one phase and continues in another phase
Beggers beg and no one gives to them
Widows cry and no one hears their voice
Everyone is caught up in this crazy web called life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it
In life, the religious are not the righteous
The righteous looks rough and rugged
Unnoticed because they have no class
For long we have been in this turmoil called life
And it has promised to continue unabated, no end at sight
Whatever happens, set your goals and go for it
The smart acts smartly by running away
They cross the sea, the Mediterranean sea
Unfortunately, you can't run away from life
Run away from it here and you will meet it there
Even though we're here, I know we'll soon be there
Only if we can set our goals and go for it
Life is everywhere, has no friends, has no foes
Life rewards, reproved and reprimands
Everyone is lotted opportunities in life
And it's their responsibility to take them
The faithful pray while the unfaithful prey
Whatever you do, set your goals and go for it
Life has no end, life has no beginning
Life is an omen, the omen never lies
Life keeps everyone busy on their own lane
Though some lanes are fast, some are slow
But ultimately every vehicle gets to its destination
Only if we can just set our goals and go for it
Life cares for no one, Life is hostile
Life is an excruciating and toilsome lot
Imperfect Life preaches perfection
Unfortunately, no one needs perfection
We're all trapped in this vicious cycle called Life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it
In the dirty hands of poverty,
Scavengers of the Republic of Enlightenment
Quench their thirst under the eyelids of the proletarians.
A sinecure of hard drugs
To silence the lamentations of these birds of ill omen.
The crosses are upside down in the furnaces of hell;
Lucifer, the egregore of these bloodthirsty criminals,
Has no distinction against the sickles of the angel of death.
The Earth is allergic to love;
It is the war that invigorates all these hearts of stone.
I have hated justice since I waddled on the edge of the spiral precipice,
My attachment to dirty money, which is similar to a fanatic's devotion to spiritual beliefs.
Sleepless nights leafing through the black pages of my legal pedigree,
I love the silence of darkness, like the darkness of a sequestered coffin in a cemetery.
My reflexes are monetary and my passions are deadly.
I only have partners;
I'm not your brother, I'm lonely as death.
The mood of a Palestinian in the shoes of a Pharisee,
Suicidal like these Africans
Which cross the Sahara and the Mediterranean.
A Kalashnikov in the brain,
I proudly accept the darkness of my words.
I am angry like all these child soldiers from the cradle.
I fiercely adore freedom in the bowels of a France filled with fascists.
Negrophobes have the right to be angry;
After all, I'm just an ungrateful who always cheated.
I didn't come to assimilate,
Just amass without calculating before being expelled.
Flashes of macabre memories to erase my nightmares,
I'm starving, thirsty for hemoglobin like a vampire.
I have been walking on death row since I arrived on Earth;
For all my blasphemy, I will end up in flames.
He has a caring heart, he has the passion
He came to his own, his own accepted him
He came to render selfless service to his people
The burden is upon his solder, he's ready to bear it
He set the vision and he is running with it
He has ran, he's still running, He has ran far and wide
He represents leadership, pragmatic leadership
He has consulted, he has consolidated
He has built bridges, he's set to build more
Then they came, they struck, to disrupt the peace, the peace of our clan
To reset and unsettle, to enthrone mediocrity and moribundity
Why do they enjoy lawlessness, brigandage, thuggery?
Why do they, especially in our clan, enjoy conflicts and unrest?
Why do they take delight in heating up the system?
Why do they like arrogating powers they do not have to themselves?
Why do they like parading about like tin gods? Why? Why? Why?
Are they gods? No they aren't. They are mortals.
No election was held yet a winner emerged - what a farce!
The electorates were denied of their civic rights,
They were disenfranchised by self seeking politicians.
The mandate was stolen, the people's mandate.
Ha! This is an omen, I do not see where this will take us.
Now I see, it will take us to damnation, to destruction,
Except the mandate be restored, the people's mandate.
Ah! I heard a voice saying It shall be restored!
Mother Earth shall help us restore it.
God of the sky shall help us restore it.
The Sun, the Moon, the Stars shall help us restore it.
Ivo, Ohaozara, Onitcha shall restore it.
Though it be stolen, it shall be restored.
The people's mandate shall be restored by the people.
VERSE I
she brushed across my shoulders
the bedroom light broke
a breasted scimitar—dancing thoracic throat
what I once outran—now presses my lips
she carried no black-wing omen
yet every breath drew near
purple velvet summons
Murdering me with Cashmere.
PRE-CHORUS I
kiss drawn, the walls slant inward
and rouge, the dark-root took shape—
as if her inborne blackwork
could make the night a colourless drape.
CHORUS I
Murdering me with Cashmere
tugging at my countless heartbeats
stripping me down to bare nerve
Murdering me with Cashmere
touch that lifted a ceiling curve
a birthright that denied me standing
VERSE II
the air lost a beat near her
piano shuttered its strings
her keratin ruled its hidden kingdoms
where songs outlived clipped-wings
one quick brush of softness
could tilt the atmosphere—
an unquestionable sovereign reign
Murdering me with Cashmere.
PRE-CHORUS II
marrow-sapped, my bones bleached white
and oooh, my will to power grew thin
her presence pressed antique velour
against my browning-paper skin
a blue-litracution mocked my manly core
CHORUS II
Murdering me with Cashmere
negating my defenses
melting my deep fear
Murdering me—only Cashmere
mist that would not recede
a spell that outlasted me
BRIDGE
she stood there—the verdict given
queen without a crown
her secrets a crashing thunder
hinged to pin me down
and I—
climbed, she was higher
and her hemlock closed in—too near
I fell into her ghast-lit shadow
Murdered soft by Cashmere.
FINAL CHORUS
Murdering me with Cashmere
kindness with a strangler’s grip
a calm that finished the work
Murdering me in Cashmere
queen in vestment of highness—
Lady Caledonia Blue— cyanotic.
OUTRO
she brushed across my shoulders
the world skipped a breath to grieve
softness that occluded on my lungs and stayed
refused to let me leave
her after-mint lodged in my vertebral mind
thorn in every flowing tear—
the night she claimed my arrhythmic heartbeat
Murdering me with Cashmere.
Love for all
Soft heart in a wolf
and sly fox in man,
Mannequins pondering
and thoughtless we,
Susan's work inspires,
ever wonder why ?
Her love for all
living souls with emotions,
Even an owl is so subtle
wrong notion of an omen,
As adorable is a carnivore,
creation of the Almighty !
Animals so affectionate
can rightly construe,
While we brainy beings
fail to feel their blues,
Susan's art speaks,
what even words can't say !
Her unique approach
and value for life,
Is what reflects beauty
of the soul inside,
Love knows no bounds
Body is just a lie !
Written November 2nd, 2014
For Debbie's contest of 'Free verse'
Dedicated to the great artist Susan Boulet
Awarded 8th place
Entered for "Any free verse 150 words or less"
Contest by Laura loo
Feb 23rd, 2017-- words 96
“Benediction”
Bless'ed be those
who turn from cawing
black crows, sharp beaks
bloodied and ill omen
to walk beside the lost
Black Monk
spectral haunted
in his lonely dark dreams
he walks away from
The King of Mud Dwellers
towards those
in Halls of the Forgotten
seeking sanctuary
in desolate decay
he will find the key
in his silent
futile Purgatory,
stripped raw
torn and naked
borne from dreaded invocation
invisible sacrament
on tongue, words spoken
to the One
lead us not into temptation
secrets that are
hidden
to then bless'ed be
forgiven
to uncover -
his chained heart
unlocked
through true love;
his crime -
through mortal pain
forgiven
released
The Key of Benediction
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPlK5HwFxcw
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G_major
O salutaris Hostia,
Quæ cæli pandis ostium:
Bella premunt hostilia,
Da robur, fer auxilium.
Uni trinoque Domino
Sit sempiterna gloria,
Qui vitam sine termino
Nobis donet in patria.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MYQrhiKWEI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMeuk2STqRA
I awaken, alarmed by contagion’s dread,
by the advancing bubonic omen.
My muscular spasms unleash, involuntarily.
My astonished malediction yawns, cavernous.
I gawk vacantly in my remaining moments,
at icy stones beneath my trembling feet.
Just a prisoner, I conclude.
Just an incorrigible coward.
Inconsolable, impotent, lachrymose,
I await my execution.
My penalty decreed in infectious agent.
My sentence prescribed in replicating pathogen.
Cacophonous are my incessant night terrors,
allying insomnia with somnambulism,
compounding calamity with conception.
No redemption in these ranting forecasts.
But I cannot reduce the fever.
And raving violence only deepens.
Yet, when capacity breathes hush in my channel,
I close my eyes.
Letting go is migrating sentience.
I am the silent release departing.
With my interior eye of providence,
I verify the amber brilliance,
this luz de Amarillo,
The Quaker’s inner light.
The Hindu’s moksha.
The Shaker’s simple gifts.
The Buddha’s luminous mind.
Dimensionless.
Breathing again, radiant rapture quenching.
Breathing again, from the riverbank,
watching mortal suffering float by.
And in Yoga, the knots of trauma
dispel from my vertebrate. My spinal lesson,
the simplest song for which I find no words.
My lives and deaths are passing weather systems.
Forbearance offers pristine extinction.
I believe that each of us lives a predestined life, one that has been arranged and organized for continuity. We are oblivious to such effects as we live out our lives accordingly, as ordered by the power that be. Anything beyond the preordained structural perimeter is deemed by its nature as, chaos and mayhem. Why would such an intrusion be thought to bear negative qualities?
Why? The fact of the matter is that it was never part of the planned destiny. Yet, those intrusions -- are a part of the grand scheme of life.
I saw a penny on the ground
Picked it up from whence it was found
It's odd how things happen your way
Be it some sign needs to convey
Like some omen, trolls to condemn
Or a lucky coin that's a gem
Be it my destined mystery
Or truth, my fate, reality
Could there be what-ifs or what-not's
or maybe vague thoughts midst hot spots
Would be my future or my past
or maybe the worst or the best
A tragedy, a comedy
I wonder which would play for me
An unexpected source affects
it plagues the mind my view reflects
A random process, here or there
a sudden surprise from thin air
This is something out of the blue
be it a lie or be it true
Would that penny cause mea culpa
that circumstances we conjure
To fill the gap, that certain void
speaking riddles, answers like Freud
An accidental incident
some sordid act made impotent
The knowledge I possess today
bound my foothold the righteous way
And all of that wealth I had learned
life is won by which we discern
"Look, man in need, a coin be found!"
I lost mine, 'twas a choice ... profound
By chance, the coin's past owner
was a spontaneous donor.
Is this a poem?
I will let poets decide
I read here, words and prose
How is it possible
Such ingenuity, over and over
Inspirations
Expressions of the heart
Kindness exposed
Bitterness sits in the cold
Storytellers
Poetic wisdom's
Lovers shedding words
Lost souls attacking verbs
Poets in mourning
Deep and emotional losses
Opening the gates of heaven
For the bereaved and forlorn
Poets dancing
Poets crying
Poets who dance and cry
Add some spiced rum and tears
Poets who ponder why?
Poets who offer comfort
Random words of the charitable order
Poets who cannot compose
Yet they are more poetic
Brutal exposure of the heart
Is poetic in its own right
Painters of poetic verse
Who disperse art like candy
I bow my head
In honor of you all
My last request
When that dark omen of death arrives
There shall be a poetic funeral
I shall write nor speak no more
Of lovers and poets
Drunk with words
You all, hoist some cheer
I wish to be surrounded
With poets
As all of you