Long Oracular Poems
Long Oracular Poems. Below are the most popular long Oracular by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oracular poems by poem length and keyword.
Longing
by Michael R. Burch
We stare out at the cold gray sea,
overcome
with such sudden and intense longing . . .
our eyes meet,
inviolate,
and we are not of this earth,
this strange, inert mass.
Before we crept
out of the shoals of the inchoate sea,
before we grew
the quaint appendages
and orifices of love . . .
before our jellylike nuclei,
struggling to be hearts,
leapt
at the sight of that first bright, oracular sun,
then watched it plummet,
the birth and death of our illumination . . .
before we wept . . .
before we knew . . .
before our unformed hearts grew numb,
once again,
in the depths of the sea’s indecipherable darkness . . .
When we were only
a swirling profusion of recombinant things
wafting loose silt from the sea’s soft floor,
writhing and sucking in convulsive beds
of mucousy foliage,
flowering,
flowering,
flowering . . .
what jolted us to life?
Keywords/Tags: life, evolution, love, desire, longing, passion, lust, sex, sexuality, relationship, chemistry, biology, hormones, appendages, orifices
The splendid, resplendent
aurora sweeps the inner
life.
I stare at gory , leaden
clouds , unable to deter
them.
From causing drops of blood to
run down the shrill , deathless
desert.
A magnificent ,mazy grove
is painted with colorful ,
golden threads.
The unassuming ,
unflinching morn is
the incarnation of sedate silence
The wrathful , woundless
creek thrives like
rapturous hues of
serenity.
What's the scope of
:lifeless wretchedness?
: dreamed embers?
: unquenchable longing?
: weeping anemone?
The oracular , intricate soul
shields a shaded woodland
like a forested daybreak.
A sagacious luster looms
upon lavender lyrics oracular,
spectacular in simple suffer
for atop the electric spire
Her violet fire will conspire
to revive love
that Time consumes...
A purpose placed gently,
in the center of your wisest pulse,
like a gemstone of graceful genuflection
palpitates for poetry
not of threadbare words
but of song soothing
into the theater of your purple glow heartbeats...
They said you were broken
because the hues of your eyes
could not be predicted,
they claimed you fragile
for feeling the fright of love lost
in withering worlds,
they believed you were damaged
by your own defense
against the touch of duplicitous ice,
but you were never defeated
by the dark drama,
you've always been
the wise wound warm...
Cheek bones speckled
with a sapphire tablature of taboo ache
turned to love blush beauty,
your body moves to song
that pitches prettily
in the poetry of blossomed joy...
You already know how
my heart wakes to your wishes,
you already hold the poetry of my soul,
You already know
what love told loneliness
a long time ago,
You already hold the joy
that we craft from iron gold...
Love waits not for Death,
nor for ideal birth,
the moment love awakes
it creates spirit that subdues all fates,
love is changing you into something unpredictable,
independent of imagination,
real as riptides in the center of a rose
sweating from anticipation
of warm lips
on petals of tender adoration...
When you left,
it felt like theft of breath,
I wondered with a wincing,
if the answer for your enigmatic evanescence
was in regret, revulsion, or a revolution of love,
I wept hard,
I made grace from the grief,
I loved you for the price...
J.A.B.
Eros, Eros, sweetly despoiling
human hearts with your passionate fire,
never, never may you invade me
with so destructive a flood of desire.
Mightier, mightier than any gleaming
starlight endlessly piercing night’s radiance,
stronger than torches that paint the dark with flame,
flies the fatal shaft of the Love God,
child of all-seeing Zeus on Olympus
and Aphrodite: it strikes with deadly aim.
Vainly, vainly famous Olympia
and Delphi’s holy oracular shrine
richly, richly garner their harvest
of sacrifice and libations of wine:
O my country, why do you never
make oblation in honor of Eros,
born of the Love Queen to rule the minds of all?
Eros, guardian of Aphrodite’s
sacred chamber is mightier than armies:
he is the conqueror whose power makes cities fall.
Aphrodite kindled in Helen
a passion stronger than duty or shame:
Priam’s city, ancient and splendid,
is nothing now but a song and a name.
Death and terror, fire and destruction
blossomed forth from her heartbreaking loveliness,
leaving Troy’s citadel ashes soaked with blood.
Dreadful, dreadful comes Aphrodite,
whirling all in her devastating hurricane,
quick as a honeybee that seeks a springtime bud.
Translated from the Greek by Jon Corelis
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
A woman who lost everything she owns stands there
by the waterfront where the waves beat upon the shore.
The woman-transformed-***** is a prisoner of war
being carried to the foreign land of an enemy general
across the sea; she cries ceaselessly tears in her eyes
for the unbearable sorrow, she barks fiercely in intolerable anger.
In the eyes of the woman who gazes up
the top of heaven from the bottom of the deepest sea.
She sees the last images of her blood-stained husband,
her dear sons and daughters, died in agony.
For her husband, she shared everything she owned;
for her children, she cradled and lulled them in her bosom to raise—
except for one son who was abandoned in the field at the time of his infancy because of an oracular ill omen.
All these sorrows are unwanted bitter memories to recall, crueler than
the cruelest fate for a woman to undergo.
Now, she climbs higher up the mast
to appeal to her deep inner heart’s mortification;
to let others see her transmuted figure, an ugly *****,
her annoying bark reaches to the furthest point of the sea.
Is Amphitrite heard her heartrending cry?
For the ship lists by the billow Poseidon rises,
alas, but then, she loses her balance and falls
to the deck vomiting blood, she ends her pathetic life;
this *****’s resentment tossed by the raging waves,
at the end, was thrown upon the shore and became a standing rock.
The rock beckons the ships that pass the straits to tell her grudge,
but to the heedless seafarers’ ears it sounds like the mere surges
that come and hit the rock. However, at times, it sounds
in their ears, like a ***** barking feebly from her bleeding heart
because of all her puppies are taken away;
that’s why, legend says,
the sailors called this rock “the poor *****’s rock.”
I see heaven's natural satellite of the earth,
the twilit lunar reflection after the sun sets-
The Halloween moon gently bows down,
feeling all the children's tiny footsteps.
I see the ghosts walking among the streets,
shades of crimson blood soaked vampires-
Shadows of black with grey misty fog,
intrigued with all the scary costume attire.
Fear in me as I approach a haunted house,
fake saws cutting bodies looking so real-
Creepy clowns chasing me in a corn maze,
my heart races and I start to frantically squeal.
Frightened by the sounds of the walking dead,
spirits rising on Halloween night every year-
The cemeteries reek of cessation and fatality,
watching one-hundred-year-old zombies appear.
The witches and warlocks bring out their talisman,
conjure spells and perform human sacrifice-
Werewolves creep out from the woods with ease,
I watch as the innocent children they entice.
On the oracular night of the revered Halloween,
cryptic creatures roam the earth indiscreet-
They fit in perfectly without being acknowledged,
the children should be careful as they trick-or-treat.
Halloween Night Contest
October 12, 2016
An eclectic ,miscellaneous daybreak .
like chimera overflows.
We always gaze at a suffocating ,thorny
lark.
The undaunted , unfearing lark frequently
embraces a vexatious butterfly.\
In the realm of anguished, harsh words
the transient, wild dusk thrives like
a rambling rose.
A daring dawn never escapes from
a shattered , stormy sea.
The homogeneous , ashen chains
of the moon echo the valor of a lionhearted
meadow.
The resolute, soundless sun festooned
with a dreamlike love.
The tapestry of truth yells out
like a , cheerful rainbow.
The flaming ,starry hope never yields like
an oracular delight
The tyrannical tears like the ultimate hues
of the universe stem the hidden verity.
Written: July 28, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
*************
The poem is inspired by the sonnet “That time of year thou mayst in me behold” by William Shakespeare
This variation on Sonnet XL1 illustrates what Kuhlmann intended.
Kuhlmann is a verse poem of two phrases interspersed with three related syllabic stem- words(nouns, adjectives )with an integral title. The label and form are derived from the baroque poet Quirinus Kuhlmann's 50 sonnet form Love-kiss XLI.
**************
Through flame: volatile, heat, light:
the metamorphosis
by night: stygian, cimmerian, peaceful:
near oblivion
by season: perennial, vernal, brief:
ochre haze
through heart: pulse, trust, will:
mystic confluence
from time: aeonian, transient, rigid:
euphony linger
through creed: esoteric, hollow, dogmatic:
undying spark
through age: golden, venerable:
filigree prison
through soul: immortal, eternal, cosmic:
oracular obelisk
by heaven: empyrean, elysian, celestial:
ethereal erasure
from perpetuity: ceaseless, fixed, static:
cenotaph sermon
through love: fervent, serene, poignant:
amber drape
from belief: devout, pragmatic, visceral:
inmost pulse.
The forested , odorous moonlight
is bedecked with an unparalleled dream.
It shields the colored, mazy
track from the fettered,
chained grass.
The gory river gleaming
in the miscellaneous mirror.
the glittering dreams
sparkle like an oracular,
, eventide
Kissing the ideal,
heterogeneous rill
I feel an unwavering
felicity.....
The waned brook shines
like the vanity of earthy
emptiness.
The forested ,odorous
moonlight
causing me an unparalleled dream.
It shields the colored , mazy track
from the fettered, chained grass.
The gory river gleaming
in the miscellaneous
mirror.
The glittering dreams
sparkle like the eclectic,
oracular eventide
Written: May 30, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Craig Cornish
***********************
Sail tilts wide, a trail of ethereal voyages—
beneath gale-screaming canvas, untamed havens huddle.
A harsh and bitter school—winds guide the clumsy—
to fulfill the needs of the learner in salt and spray.
Shimmering, citrine waters belie a dark abyss—
shadowing their sins, gathering a gale.
seabirds muster, wailing discordant dirges,
surf thrums its symphony, light-bearer of dawn.
The squall approaches, nugatory now—
Yet horizon instructs: even fickle breezes
mock hedonist’s feast, remind the sailor of restraint.
A waif—wary-eyed, pugnacious—grasps a thread at dawn,
vessel bucks in ocean blitz—
ephemeral fingers touch aurum,
foam anoints the timbered blade with oracular blessing.
Waves cradle cobwebbed legends —
a dark embrace where visceral awe remains.
Waters devote themselves to lunar reverie—
a tome of lambency unfurls its farewell canopy.
Horizons incarnadine, crepuscular creed,
stars spill splendor as shadows clutch twilight’s dagger.
And still—the broad reach carries us—
not canvas and keel alone, but the human heart—
sardonic tenderness stretching into the infinite.