Long Oracle Poems

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


Ever Returning/Departing

I reached into the depth...
But could not withdraw  Excalibur from the stone.
Yet I knew I was the one.
Why else my 'Grail Vision' in the sun?
The depths call me to reach further still.
And Mary's eyes bled.
Realizing for whom the tear's shed.

I know not what to do.
Vainity reaching to withdraw from the glue.
I stare blindly in the distance a 'bust' of my former self.
Passing the secret of excalibur being drawn by someone else.

And passing by the oracle of Ephesus, Medusa's eyes
She drew the sword stone in deep catching my contemplations of the mirror.
I could loose myself in her forever.
Secret Sweets. Stained Sheets. and shaking cold she wraps me in the golden fleece.
Covered in snakes, I melt into the secret skin.
Learning the name, I see my fathers before me distrought.
And see now the blindness of the Kingdom Oedipus wrought.
Sophoclese Tragedies and I am forever Oedipus.
Betrayed blessin' between whorish thighs and my camarades' lies.
Where is Helena these days?
Gone so long, I've forgotten her ways.

That's the trick-she sucks in your depth.
I am Horus, my seeds sewn in the west.
Innana's dead. I broke my maiden-named womb.
Long ago I allocated multiversic kingdoms for Osiris' perversion tombs.

And in the mysteries of deep misery.
I have witnessed my seed coming of age.
To lay thoughts like these out on a page.
Christ, Annubis, and I planned this on a street in Greece, A.D., B.C. I can't remember which.
I bare down frost-bitten from the North.
And my Christ of peace bore symbols from the East.
Our dog-eared down-home friend brought simpler lessons from an outdated South.
And we witnessed our births spread out over time.
Three wise men we were singing dark-hearted songs of a blackened Madonna we couldn't find.
So we relinquished ourselves to Daddy Darkest who knew best.
Redistributed seeds, we pushed ourselves to a static line beyond myth; where men like us no longer needed to exist.

Sweet Virgin, Return
I am old and worn thin.
Now, is your time to begin; A collection of stories your heart has borne, but you lay unblemished.
My daughter lay our bones to rest. 
Cook them in your stew.
Reigns handover long overdue, but that's not the style you do.
Don't worry about ole Paw. Jimmy Crack corn.
May you be Princess Disarming Charming laced with meaning...
And I awake sleeping...
Beauty, I next to you.
© C Sowder  Create an image from this poem.


Oracle of Giza

A new day perhaps, of immeasurable tin, sound of din
A hurricane noise, a thrall of riotous cuts, although thin
The blood-curdle choke of rage from before
Now purchased like plasma from the needle store
Go hump yourself, If you want my schtick, you vampire whore
You’ve had enough since the Garden, Lillith, you’ll not get more

Now the ratio between human, vampire, dragon and other dead
Has been cast with fair radiant echo against the nuclear thread
A shroud sewn with Alcubierre’s hand and Teller’s eye
Will re-write the laws of your time to die
Not forced by the forced prison of your local priest
Or enticed by Babylon to take part in it’s wicked feast

The work that was promised to Adam and re-framed unto Cain
To un-curse the valley, glen and land: to filter Acid from Rain
With thorns o- the rose coming loose from the Bush
And snakes running hither or thither in scintillate Rush
The Oracle of Satan found new charms to spread in perfect Cube
Could be the shape of Sound Maynard or Max’s Cubic Rube

The Time of Orwell Now and Jobs spelling Apple at his Side
And Sting writing programs for the Cops, whom along for the Ride
the Bladerunner checkin for humans among the technical horde
Huxley detected the separate spirit, lobotimized souls, Model T Fords
And Harrison checked again with electric sleep on the Brain
A tear for Summer, or a vision for Canticles, a wave almost Inane

With countless ages past since the Dust of Sumer lent
It’s hell-bound rasp of gutteral destruction spent
The awful wave of gas, a riotous nuclear blast
In the once Green land where sage grew fast
The dim spectre of time has given up the ghost
With markets bazar and material plenty, yet consider the cost

From Alabaster bone the Ocean’s a-shallow
The Mermaids remember the times that were fallow
Year upon year the bi-peds walked without aim or deed
That could count for fullness, even yet upon steed
Even in those ages of lore when upon horse they’d trot
Or with Gasoline chariot to the park like Mel Ot

None could account for the empty space of land
Or like Kieth Stone, bend down and till without turning into sand
The eidolons of time, immemorable: drooping, eternal clocks
An echo of murmurs, drogue and sorrow, indifferent as the rocks
Whom would not cry out, with refusal of price
None could garner their strength or bleed them twice

Branches

Friend, before life moves us to the parting ways
Let wisdom tell from rend of heart its lessons old
That you may take your journey springing praise
And mend with gladness dream and mirrored fold
               One road invites the universe of man to dawn
               The place we left in awe of sword and flash of fire
               Stumbling from purpose and lapping dew for ire
               Making the circle of return to the cradle of the fawn

It's two things the oracle challenges us to know
Where the road diverges into many different paths
What vision shapes the skill that need will show
To meet the tests that sever self from it thoughts
               And lift the eagle to the pinnacle of brimming star
               And say to soul you are worth more than you seem
               In any dissection of the flesh or weighing of dream
               The mantle is mask that pretends not who we are.

What if one branching path a wide lake must cross
What if another a snow-capped cliff must clamber o'er
And still the next has serpents slithering in the grass
And one stretch endless like miles of a sandy shore
               Shall the swimmer charm the serpents, swim
               The sands, and climb the mirror face of ice
               Against a different purpose will his dream suffice
               Or all mismatched paths not a meet a fate still grim?

O too many on the wrong path are embarked, too few
Their purpose know before the journey begins
The shipwreck on deserts straddle the sense as clue
Ignored ... self-blinded race, drowning in our sins
               He who foreknew us predestined purpose too
               Each tree is seeded after its kind, each man can
               Achieve only what is set in the primordial plan
               The broad way is littered with much too much to rue.

What use is choice unless some context tell the aim
For once and only once we choose the path to good
And joy, the river does not return, the sea is the same
Only at the rapids end. Not what I would, but what I should
               Is all I need to know. It's not the prize but the race
               We run is what we are destined for. Go now, friend
               And wing the light and for mist of truth contend
               The swift may run, but the wise the victory taste.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Traveller

She came upon me in a dream deep down from within my destination

Which coursed the mind and soul of years for my memories' inspiration

The path was crowded with bouncing hooves and wagons decorated

With fantasies ornaments adoration painted with merriment unabated


Echoes' subconscious sound of wild horses drawing cart wheels' canter

A symphony's reminder of nectar's flow from a coloured glass decanter

Bewildered I reminisced on sentiments nostalgia and what lies ahead

Fanfares of homeliness adventure passion to pounding of a drumhead


Heated stallions ran wild with mares and took my innate flight of fancy

Less trodden though in modern times a covert path offered me fragrant tansy

Potions of wild garlic lavender and bouquets of aromatic blue sage scent

I grabbed the message by the horns and galloped to my heart's content


One face stood out and reached my fired feelings as I took off one blinker

A nomad girl dressed in rags whistles bells whom you might call a tinker

Olive skin and amber eyes beyond all reason teasing all sensual needs

Her hair like forests full of tangles I must touch her locks lest she proceeds


Around her neck dangled an amulet crafted from ivory and ancient oak

Grant me a whiff of freedom give me one chance to embrace and stroke

The skin's wilderness and passion which may save me from my strife

A single breath or little smooch from cherry lips to give me the kiss of life


She shone as bright as ruby petals and took her path along the lane

Of elderberry flower and hawthorn hedges which made me go insane

Her chest adorned with orange curves she wore a crown of quince

She's been imprinted on my summer screen for more and ever since


And still the magic rings hooked on her ears of nectarine shaped silver

Stir the image when I hear a voice singing the praise and beauty of her

A scintillating Roma bride sculpted from nature of the purest sense

Prophesy omen oracle and metaphor in one quite magically intense


When sunshine arises red and purple with violins and tambourine

I pinch the moon in thanks for right next to me slumbers my Fairy Queen

Once upon a time I handed her a golden peach an oath and sacred bond

She calls herself a gypsy and kindly waves to me with her magic wand


11th April 2020
Form: Rhyme

Ode On the Clan's Iroko Tree

(for: them who are ever there!)

these branches and roots
that cord to the grave ancients
should be free from man’s swords!
both oracle and priest held for days …

I 
Your voice speaks in the silence of the night
To the deep still shady earth
That once held a great zest for our childhood
Here in the once thick wooded land
Where progenitors strewed their rustic huts
Yes! where, sang tho’ unseen those sonorous kin-spirits.

2 
Ah! Happy and keen folks were the ancients, then;
But their sons? what a sad lot, now! even
Demented hearts aching from those drinks of dizzy times
Raw anguish, sorrow, painful hemlocks of death-lines,
The slow songs that tune softly to the mirthful graves
That still hold the ancestors like prisoners in the wild caves.

3 
O! for your unravished wave of primal welcome,
That bade the sonorous weaver come
To make loud greeting of blue azure with song-fleet
O! for such uudecoded song that for the sagging flesh bear ointment
Secret balm from the rhyming unsteady palm leaves of the winds
That flute clearly to ancestors those eternal silent songs.

4 
Known are those festal spirits of your night
From whom many lives readily spring forth:
Mused thru’ the voices of strong mortal compeers –
Priests, priestesses, praise-singers, warriors, dancers!
That with gusto, flounder across the space of time;
O, for those festal moments of flush! o, for the celestial clime!

5 
You are the unseen bridge of the world,
Like Nturukpa, that elder amongst our ferry trees;
Your bark exhumes the bright colours of the past;
And carried thru’ the festal wings of your night
We desire to be mused to the ethereal clime;
Of uncurbed equanimity and euphoria of the divine.

6 
I now know the anguish of these festal spirits
Who take refuge on the water-void banks
Of the topmost branches and leaves;
I now know the noise of their feasts in sacrifices:
Doleful sacrifices in the gods’ swollen foot!
Then adieu! adieu! from the cloyed humans in advent!

7 
O farewell! with all your festal spirits,
Who coaxed to the night of sacrifices, priests,
Priestesses, dancers, praise-singers, warriors of the land;
Adieu! with these cold celebrations and coax-throated songs heard,
Thru’ the voice and echoes of rain’s thunder,
In the day of the panther and his noble twin, the hunter.
© Canny Amah  Create an image from this poem.


My Heart Waits For You

My heart waits for you so that our dreams can come true .
My heart aches for you, so remove the guard so that I can be with you 

Days have passed and I kept working like a horse, cleaning the barn 
Emptying garbage bins and meddling in the dirt oh what a terrible sin 
I did not go to school to become a Janitor, but I became one over night 
I also spend hours working my brain working with my intuitive mind and the spiritual oracle that originates from the divine. 

My heart aches for you when no one is there to watch my back, my heart aches for you when no one is there to buy me a new frock.

Sometimes the days turn cold and I can feel you wrapped up into my soul with just a tiny touch of heat to warm your cold feet. It’s the kind of courage that we share that kept us floating in the air and when the weather is fine, I usually get what is mine. 

The road is extremely long and the curves and turns are singing a wonderful song, the guitars strings are strumming and the people are marching on. The work is not yet done so I have to continue this journey until the battle is won. 

I have to change directions, angle, and dimension and make the circumference bold and the dividing line whole; you must multiply the radius by two to get the diameter that is true, and then multiply the result by three point one four for a good estimate before you walk through the door. 

I have to work with some new people and a new set to obtain some physical and spiritual depth. The location is metastasized with anger, hate and greed and the bald eagle is strangling the sisters and they cannot breathe . 

I have to change location to get variety and a better proportion; I have to close in on the inner world with a linear distance and the radius pulling from the center or the sphere intersecting on something that is dear to complete the formula. 

My heart is waiting for you to share the story of an unseen glory and ride with the wind in the south and break the wings of the North without a doubt.
My heart waits for you to complete this battle, and when it is done we will publish it and stand on the mountain top and shout with all that we have got 

The birds will come raining in the sky for every direction and my heart will be pleased. I will hold your hands and embrace with thee.  My heart aches for you.
Form: Lyric

Circulation

It’s as if something had exploded in my brain and the whole world had gone insane, it is that magic that you feel when you know that love is real and all the doubts and fear had gone away and something appealing was here to stay, and it embolden my will to get up and sing.

I couldn’t see it but I could feel it, I couldn’t touch it but I could imagine it and the skies turn blue I know that the oracle will come true, oh if you could feel what I feel, you would know that life is real and the fountain of love isdripping from above.
Oh if I could turn the clock back in time, I would undo the hatred of our ancestor and unite the broken hearts  and compose music about the sun and sea. I would rewrite the new world order and send love to my sisters and brothers and mend the broken bridges, I would stand on the mountain and send messages of love to the weary, and when the sun is going down
I would give thanks for the heart and the crown.

Can you feel the blood running through your vein? feel the warmth that it bring and submit to it will you have travelled a million miles and have made thousands of sacrifice so live that
You were meant to live so separate yourself from the hill, the daily complains around you have drained your mental and spiritual energy and you will never be happy if you stay there
 The universe has so much to share, so come with me and I will tell you what I heart speaks.

Circulate the letters of time and you will find the magic words
 That is perfect for your soul, it is the way it is juxtaposed and the oxymoron that gives you running nose is smiling. It is like the architect of the sea that has come to set the reptiles free, they know where they stand and how live on the land.

Draw back the curtains of time and you will see things that will blow your mind, go back to the negotiation table and don’t leave the room until a good deal is reached, then you can rest your feet. You will have your bathroom break in the same place
And everyone everywhere that is working on whatever deal will follow the same method to mend their heel. And if it’s not complete in one day, you will stay in the same place until a deal is reached that everyone can agree to.
Circulate my words and cleanse your soul, circulate my poems and make the deal whole. Come and join me and you will be happy.
Form: Narrative

Brutus Iulius Trois Page 06

Brutus Iulius Trois Page 06

The defeated Pandrasus spoke out
his weary words weighted with wisdom. 
Linus is as Greek as I am Greek and as a Greek
let him inherit the crown, I'll name no other heir.
take for yourself  as bride my Imogen, my  daughter
many fine ships shall be her portion 
and peace shall be proud Imogen's price
Set sail Brutus, leave all that is Greek behind
take those who would be Trojans home to Troy 

Grey bearded Membyr rapped his cane for silence.
Fools with hands still bloody from fighting!
What peace can live with the families of the slain?
Linus will wait for a crown he won't live to wear.
Brutus accept the kings tribute and let us depart.

light heart-ed Brutus danced long at his wedding
Ere he left Chanoia to sail home, home to Troy
happy Brutus was with his bride  fair Helen's image
youthful Imogen, old Pandrasus's proud daughter
with his new ships Brutus went sailing , keeping to the coastlines
through the archipelagos, around the Greek peninsula
at every anchorage being joined by freedmen and escaped bonds men
at every  anchorage being  provisioned by small kings and unhappy chieftains
who hastily sent away this army of would be Trojans back to Troy 

An unwilling wife was Imogen who wept for her homeland
her eyes turned to the shore while it was in sight 
Imogen wept for her mother, her father, her fate
Imogen wept for her spinning wheel and wept for her loom
Imogen wept for her gardens, her gowns and her goats
Imogen wept for all that was hers, which was left behind.
Brutus soothed and kissed her holding her tightly 
until weary with weeping Imogen slept.  

At Sounion, Brutus climbed the cliff to Neptune's temple,
offering a spotted bull with passionate prayers for a safe voyage
As the sun set on the Aegean, a citizen came from Athens.
Philaeus, son of Eurysaces, the last king of Salamis.
An oracle of Apollo had demanded he renounce his rights to rule
and have Neptune's lost sacrifice returned to its altar 
So he gave away his kingship, and came here carrying Hesione's ashes
Hesione, the stolen sister of Priam. The late payment of Laomedon's debt.
As Laomedon's heir, Brutus accepted the task
taking the veil covered amphora, he gave it great honor
placing it upon his own ship, fastened securely behind the prow
Form: Epic

Another Day

I didn’t know if I was going to make it through the night, my feet were as cold as ice, my heart was where it was supposed to be, but I had this strange premonition that I would wake up in the middle of a storm just before the break of dawn.

 And the mountain will meet with the sea and whisper a silent prayer for thee. It was as plain as can be the waves were coming after me and so I had to ride on top of them until I got closer to my anticipated friend. 

There was a sudden heat coming out of the ground and not a single cactus could be found, a group of people were crossing the dessert and patches of dust starts popping out of the ground and swirling in the air ,causing everyone to run for cover that was not there,and the heat crawls slowly up their feet and the distance between them become wider.

For one moment I thought I was here and then I found myself at the bedside over there weeping for those that didn’t make it. 

 All of them were lying flat with their hands tied to their backs, feet bound with ropes and blood was flowing from their waist to the ankle. I have seen it from a distance and I kept saying to myself what do I have to do with such oracle?

It’s another deja vue that comes back to haunt me and a new window was opened in the earth and I could see everything that was running underground. 

A sanctuary with dead bodied buried beneath it and a hangman sign stood upright with a Guillotine position at the back and a pan set underneath to catch blood from the dock,

They had waiting rooms and places where they groom. The young girls had to dance naked before them and they were treated as daughter of the heathen 
In the early morning they bore the pain and at nights their bodies become the shame of the city oh what profanity, the pleasure of men are deferential to women. 

Another day has passed and hope is getting meager, and the fear of waiting for something to happen seems never ending. 

 They made their way through the ground from a tunnel that was out of bound and it leads from timbucktoe around the bend into the gorilla shoe.  

And the black bear on the other side continue to steal the spice but the panda came just in time to do the  summersault to get them out of the dark into the open air, and finally the plane got them out of there.
Form: Narrative

Golden Age Book Club

mandatory monopoly to teach kids a business sense
life long school writing career to help set up your children for success
filing cabinets for councellors to read through
to help your children reach their aspirations
by grade 12 the book edited and presented to the market

anyone can do this
writing a book to heal the mind
pick 5 or 7 names
write descriptive nonsense about them everyday
and don't bother putting it in order

Paying attention to your themes
realise when you have a breakthrough write
then rewrite that story

the miracle of the womb of dreams
women's intuition of an infants first introduction to it's creator
mom a subconcious prophet who just doesn't know
freud of the denial of sexual knowledge
jung of psychological awareness
all ties together learning to think through emotion
due to discomfort of heat and hunger

A gift to the world i have given you an oracle
sending the soldiers of god
walking the globe in circles to their enlightenment
by mastermining your war efforts
you can make war impossible
cities with their own magnetic poles strategically placed
the order of the compas points different for each quadrant of the world

The second generation Internet
pending approval before it is viewable
Bank robbing police in my backyard
its almost time for your funeral

Telling the well people to build an arc
just in case
you like to travel anyway
something better to do than poison your children
and repeat unpleasant mistakes
mandatory firefighting enlistments
preparing for droughts and floods
the war of our world v.s the wrath of mother nature
fought hard with the plan to end famine

still wondering about the missing priests
who allowed criminal refuge
children the victoms in one way
adults recieving the wrong sermon

Richy rich calling scotland yard
many of my dreams have been stolen
would like to go have tea with the queen
welcome to the Next level
the game of making ones life unfair
studied to induce suicide through psychology
waiting for you to come into my life to give me a gun
thinking i might fall for your good intentions 
i won't
that much poison in my veigns
bank robbing police
if there is a problem solving this mystery
you just might attend some of the worst case scenarias
i have been living

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