Long Operas Poems
Long Operas Poems. Below are the most popular long Operas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Operas poems by poem length and keyword.
Day's later we are to arrive in Greece
and we have no Captain
and no tresure. He who cammands is A fearful foolish person.
The oils are resticted due to his fear of thrist
and the fruit stored have soured
due to his lack of knowledge.
The salted fish shall fill these bellies
until we have sailed into Greece
and what sjhall we tell these people.
Scylla has taken both Captain Crew and treasure.
What are they to say of us.
They arrived at Crete, and ships met them.
They ordered us into a particular place in the harbor one said.
They asked nothing and we said nothing.
We were ordered to stay aboard, we stayed in harbor
for Five days. On the Night of the fifth day meats and
wines were sent aboard. Breads fresh made with salads and fruits.
The wines were like no thing we had ever tasted they were
great wines said the guy who had taken the helm.
A member of the Roman Navy had boarded the ship
he told them of a ship docked down stream that had arrived
Seven Days before them. He told them they were said to
be sunk and a Sae Creture had Swallowed them
A six headed sea Creature.
He asked them not to come ashore until he could
determine what was going on.
Casear was in Greece to hear the Operas of Beautful Women
anbd we wished you to tell your story to Casear.
I
the yellow cries of creation burn in the subjective sun
staring rays of perdition’s psalm acidic as sinful balm
sear the fear of tomorrow’s bones into fleshly operas
observing with scientific malice the malady of romance
…the ghosts dance on quantum strings
…stars fall into amnesia vast as innocence
II
the roaring morning voice lies in mourning
bled beyond the hum particulates wonder wide
wavering worlds of whispered war rendering
deeds and passions severed from the stream
…lost survivors bathe in black flowers
…applauding the deconstruction of love
III
crying carnivorous caves leak scenes
painted with weathered fingers dyeing
dreams of the hunt levitating raw eons
climbing piles of souls claiming realms
…reappearing yields banish wishes
…angels swish across bedrooms blushing
Written: November 17, 2023 For Anoucheka Gangabissoon Contest
Butterflies are self-propelled flowers.~R.H. Heinlein
____________________________________________
I was beset by fetching shade and quiet.
Silky blue wave was all that lent insight.
Cynosure twilight, nocturnal birds in the air
Comely moon is at its peak—it imparts glare.
Nighttime wind howling and exquisite moon
A sense of demure in stygian helps ease the loon.
Quench me while I bask in its exquisiteness.
Whilst wave waltz in the night's inure emptiness.
I grasp a nemesis moon; lilting wings are one.
Might collide in her mellifluous swings in the sun.
I look at another butterfly, a one-winged moon.
Until I'm inebriated on opulent honey and swoon.
An indigo moon, a velvety butterfly in scope
A seraglio amid flower petals, flying on a slope
As dreams fly toward me, my soul soars in the sky.
Holding hands, aureate as the sun climbs high.
Frail spirits are seen in cobalt, marigold, and blue.
Flutter and sing nebulous operas, then subdue
Diaphanous butterfly flight; the moon guides waves.
Butterflies flew by willow trees on the paves.
Her theatrical pirouettes and plies were unique.
Her effusive leaps and swanlike views amaze sleek.
Pearl blue eyes, rose-colored skin, and silver hair
The prima donna version of a frog lacks a stare.
Amidst the tranquility of the nocturnal calm,
What ensues in its midst, amid the lunar charm?
When gloom veils our sight—quiet crams the air.
Utterly divine events happen beyond compare.
Don't opine the sky's limit if moon steps are seen.
The only limits are yours; call it a muse, not a dream.
Quit your egregious zone to foresee epoch beyond.
Strive for the full moon, and Elysian stars will bond.
Here I am,
sitting at my desk watching an old
romantic comedy on my computer,
the kind of thing I wouldn’t have been
caught dead watching in my youth.
The height of uncool,
the epitome of maudlin sentimentality,
I’d have snorted years ago,
adding an exaggerated eye roll
for good measure
in case the contempt in my voice
failed to register with
the intended audience.
Now, I feel goosebumps
clawing up my arms
and the sides of my neck
like a horde of micro-ninjas,
then, reaching my temples,
spreading out like tiny explosions.
Oh, leave my eyes alone!
Age is destroying my immune system
against emotional viruses
even while it’s aggravating
my chronic cynicism.
Books, movies, songs,
cheesy soap operas,
even fleeting half-thoughts that
invite themselves
into the members-only inner sanctum
of my brain.
Almost anything can trigger
that annoying tingle.
And ‘poignant’ has become one of my
favorite words because
everything feels that way.
Why?
Is it because, after so many years,
life has succeeded in secretly
planting a large cache of empathy in me?
Is it the vague autumnal feeling
that now grips me year-round,
fed by a creeping awareness
of my dwindling reserves of time,
and the attendant sensation that
the older I get,
the faster time flies?
Or maybe I’m in permanent mourning.
For lost time,
expiring memories,
lives not lived,
loves not dared.
And the transient insignificance of it all.
Whatever the reason,
I have to make a choice.
Let my mind
continue to wind down,
or grab it by the scruff of its neck
and wind it
the hell back up!
Decision made.
Fragments of voices
like phrases of song
are accepted inside
as not too horribly wrong.
But whole operas,
learned dissertations,
and uncertain scientific recreations
are not accepted outside
without establishment's substantial reservations.
Indigenous wisdom hears
and reveres interdependent wholeness
while modern patriarchal strength
is willing to sacrifice independent fragments
to preserve overpowering social lengths.
If space is heard
in wholeness
versus inter-connecting fragments,
How different is this totalitarian
transcendent view?
When universal time
expects unchanging chronic wholeness,
constipating stuckness,
rather than interdependent holistic fragments
co-acclimating of and for this WholeEarth.
Fragmented voices
swallow sounds of hopelessly isolated individuals
inside and outside
when not listened to
with totalitarian absence of reassurance,
lack of personal appreciation,
or denied basic healthy identity tolerance.
These sounds
and song fragments
universally disintegrate Now,
against Past,
and Future
dispassioned
cycles of colonizing
violent revolutions.
Voices for fundamentally supremacist religion,
like choices for national monoculturing "patriotism"
sound terrifying when Wholeness
becomes transcendent universal Patriarchy,
kleptocratic,
rather than internally uniting Matriarchy,
messianic.
Voices sung in dissonance-stretching harmonies
[of oxymorons,
re-creative tensions,
dichotomies
anatomies
between competitive left minds, theoretical,
and cooperative right bodies, experiential,]
listen, instead,
for interdependent global Wholeness
co-arising universally personal multicultural fragments
of empowering integrity,
political symphony,
economic synergy,
artistic epiphany,
capital cooperativity,
universal fragmentary synthesis.
Fragments of voices
like phrases of song
are best accepted inside
like outside
if not too horribly long
wrong.
I arrived early today for the appointment made months ago,
And began the interminable wait to see the medico.
When I checked in it was already half-past noon.
The nurse said, "Take a seat and we'll be with you soon!"
The room was full of people in every kind of condition.
I thought, "Lord! Have mercy! Deliver me from this perdition!
While waiting I'll surely contract a contagious disease I fear,
And be much worse off than when I arrived in here!"
I thumbed through time-worn magazines dating from nineteen fifty-three,
And stared with glazed eyes at unctuous soap operas on TV.
Swallowed stale coffee by the liter from a styrofoam cup,
Not so patiently waiting for my name to be called up!
I tried to snooze but that soon became a sad delusion,
With rowdy kids and constant babble - just too much confusion.
The little old lady next to me told of her every pain and ache,
As I lent a compassionate ear, striving to stay awake!
I was almost tempted to order in a scrumptious pizza pie.
My stomach was growling and suppertime was drawing nigh.
When at last the nurse in all her puffery before me did loom,
And finally ushered me into the harried doctor's examining room!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I
I search myself within skeletons closeted sunshine
Sick from love laughing leers sick from tired lessons lesions clichés
Sick from smug smart snooty soldiers in a war without enemies
Slaying hope light flashed in the whisper of a child’s heart
I beg for the dream again when magic was sown in my soul
II
Now only the outside answers nature wind
My mind suffocates secrets suffered slow
Pitching prayers in the dark room empty
Lights stretch snips of longing on the split wall
In corners perfumes perform mirrored operas
III
The monster changes the law and sows lands
In dust time will be a new hand reaching back
Deserts will bloom gospels pouring beatitudes
Walking religiously toward the thrilling purple sun
Night is a bath of stars boiling life and lust spinning
Mom had six children
when she moved far from the nest
to a remote area without relatives or friends.
Her lifestyle suddenly changed
from urban to rustic ~
Playing the part she did
of Eva Gabor in Green Acres
but in real life.
Between setting up a new home
laundry mending ironing
cooking baking cleaning
grocery shopping and school lunches,
Not much time to herself ~
she by chance discovered
the lure of soap operas
and it changed her life.
Suddenly she was extra motivated
to finish her work with time to spare
saving the ironing for soap opera hour.
And so she’d welcome into her home
the whole cast of Edge of Night
with their dramatic theatrical lives ~
she’d bond laugh and cry
And her life was full again.
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
for : Choose a line 2
Sponsor : Joseph May
prompt: “The darkened sky stole my tears”
submission date : 27/5/25
Placed : 4th : multiple
RETURN MY TEARS
The darkened sky stole my tears
soprano crystalline they quickly disappeared
Lucy my name still neat to tweet, though
inner ocean could no longer drip sighs sweet
desert dry goals, set anew, a different stew
He no longer beheld teary dampened hues
charcoal cloud-lips licked tear salt refined
eerie seraphim pointed saffron south where
fears were consternatingly narrowed near
Danube desires for red velvet attire or
focussed cease fires mattered little
life performances madly tearless brittle
it happened during a talisman thunderstorm
this certainly phantom-like for fairy form
soul aches to touch streamlets down rosy
cheeks so charming, petulant part
of story lost, when eyes dam up but
cannot willow weep, sleepless songs seep
to soak satin midnight pillow a disappeared
right in dim bower, choking hours
‘forget sad droplets !’ flowered cupids harkened,
‘Heart scrubbed clear from harlequin waters
your taffeta tears glisten on thistle in
Garden of Eden, closely listen !’
wolf pacified, ‘not to worry, you can voice a howl’
gobi bear beckoned, ‘come prowl with tawny owl
we will hear symphonic larks in operas dark
tea-rose tears are for unopened hearts
stealing kisses or wishes with swishes
eating sumptuous dishes’
sob I wanted to so bad, be singularly sad
feel drips on hands and feet, wash out eyes lubricate lips with self’s own mineralised H2O
enriched emotion to finely comb, then hit Home
Dark sky ! Return my tears ! Hear Soul’s plea
Tears, my liquidised diamonds, an oasis for me
I suspect many of us,
if not all,
with a mindful of bodhisattva
positive deviant parented and educated exceptions,
grow up feeling like a human win/lose sinner
fighting against a divine win/win messiah within,
Internally conflicted
about being sent from past sacred regenerations
of survivors
and thrivers
to redeem a fractured Earth
in preparation for secular/sacred
dipolar co-arising Rapture Climates,
epic Operas,
small operations,
of and for EarthJustice grace,
love,
win/win compassion,
To raise multicultural economic health
from death's fading door,
to prophecy polycultural nutritional wealth,
To face immanently within
health/wealth bicameral Rapture,
predicting all Earth's cooperative messianic reweaving
of di-hemispheric bilateral ClimateResilience
for sacredly intersectional ZeroZone Earth
And all Gaian-Christian-Taoist-PolyCulturist
humane sinners,
winning behavioral secular interdependent resonance
to regain sacredly resilient EarthTribe's eco-political Trust
In humane sinners
redeemed by hearing divine sainted voices,
nutrients,
natures,
spirits,
NonZeroSum Souls
Becoming secular-
sacred interdependent Being.