Long Ores Poems
Long Ores Poems. Below are the most popular long Ores by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ores poems by poem length and keyword.
Crying pitiful face of Earth
Wailing beneath the darkened skies
Bubbling tears pouring down her saddened eyes
Yearning to be freed from troll's cries
Still in learning she is, to be debarred from lies!
Dark and desolate is her centre
Gloomy and dull is her lather
Yet, tolerant and adamant is her temper
For her call is to be a loving and a doting mother
Such a fate she accepted from a tray, Oh so Silver!
Enduring the devilish nature of her common kin
She bears selflessly with them even if they bask in sin
And does her best to give them a life devoid of sores
Without reproach, she fulfils her chores
Never expecting anything in return for her lost ores!
Delightful she was at the time of Creation
Distressful she will be at the time of Destruction
Graceful she shall be at the time of Rejuvenation
Forgiveness she will grant to those enjoyers!
For a tender heart she has acquired throughout the years!
Crying pitiful face of Earth
I pray, have Patience with all Its Worth
So that Eternal Life shall flow in Your Soul
And dazed shall we all be in Your enthrall
Even if Your tender heart with iron is now mold!
FURUHI, A LAMENT
(Based on a poem by a Japanese poet of the seventh century, Yamanoe Okura)
What in all the world is most desired?
The precious ores, the seven precious stones?
Yet what are these to one
whom Heaven gave its fairest pearl,
that gem love brought forth to day,
our son Furuhi, our little son?
O why did Heaven lend to us
its fairest jewel?
When the star of evening shone,
he wakened us, laughing, jumping,
and when the star of evening shone,
he lay between us, there to be
a lily cupped by two green leaves.
But like that short-lived flower,
his freshness faded, wilted, paled,
as he grew weak and sick upon his bed
until like bird of night death came
to snatch its prey.
O Lord of sky and earth, tell why
you, possessor of both realms,
took from this scant store our gem,
our most loved only flower.
And Lord of dark shades of night,
to whose realm of nothing falls
all the realms of being owned,
why did you seize with such unseemly haste
what in full time was yours with better grace?
What cause had you to deny
a little season's bliss?
O Lord of dreams and visions, why
did you, as though consoling, promise
to return to us our pearl
and let us see him smile again,
and let us hear his laughter as before,
at our waking, till cold reason
with vial of gall poisoned the cup of dawn
that we felt his death not once,
but again with each returning day?
O Lord whose name we do not know,
lead him gently and with parent's care,
or call us soon that as before
our shoulders bear him high.
10/26/17
"
Either was us or them
Was poor way back when
Mess up and wind up with a bad batch of corn bread
Or a horse head in bed
A sign on the store said
"Another day closer toward the end
Next thing you know you're dead"
A storm ahead
At times the sky above the shores red
Countries and people involved in war again
She told me she wanted to be more than friends
Deposits of ores, worked on then locked behind glass doors as gems
Experienced scorn and dread
Brand new shoes or soles with worn treads
Another lifeform torn to shreds
All across the floor it bled
Dusty shoes and wipsy hair
But i do not care
I am headed to Jozi
Smelting hair and drowsy heat
That will not deter me
I am headed to the streets
paved in gold, Jozi
With nothing more than the clothes on my skin
And pure ambition riding me.
I am headed to Jozi
And I will not looked back
I greeted the sun as we met
at the taxi rank
I'll say good morning when
we meet early morrow
It doesn't matter that I am a stranger
It should not matter that I'm in a foreign land
This land of gold must cast its ion ores
Amongst the winds
I intend, and will most positively indeed,
live on the fringes
If I must
Mother nature, look out for me!
For as long as you've been known
You never appease.
Put your light before me,
with the satchel at my back
Keep your wisdom by side
And your mercy beneath my feet
Oh long dusty road into Jozi
How I do see you now!
The road which broadens with each
prospect of days to come
The gravel strengthened
by pillaged hands
Land of minerals overflowing in dreams
Sweeter than bees but lacking in honey
Yes,I am walking into Jozi
Such a sight, illuminating in glorious light
JOZI, the land of decorated dreams
Where my poverty was never seen
And the streets did welcome me
The birds sangs for me
And my riches a blessing still to be
Land of decadence, paved with trees
Air so pure, it cleanses the leaves
AND now, all I am left with,
hope of these riches,
this beautiful city to be.
For me it must be,
Jozi,
to being free.
Jozi, land of the freed
William Shakespeare was a play-write
He really wrote a play right ...
Yet if his 'words were magic'
~ Why were his plays so tragic?
Charles Dickens first addition
of "Olive or Twist" was darn good fix-shun ...
The epitome of 1800's political correctness
~ Monsieur-Monster Fagin's vile "semitic' invectiveness
Ernest Hemingway's son all ways rises
as the old man caught a fish in the si
of the Spain and the bullfights he at ended
~ far from the USA, where he couldn't bend-o'er his gender
Today Dan Brown and John Grisham are the right oars
who rule the roost of the literary pie'll ...
They rite and they right and they write till they drop
~ their draw-ores ... it's the latest literary sty'L
9/15/16
Across the lands and shores
Plants and spores
So much life in different shapes and forms
Many storms cold or warm
Always been an omnivore
So I eat vegetables like corn
And meats like albacore and boar
I don't care about the odds on the board
It's about so much more
And not just the reward
I'll continue to row without an oar
Near and far from the seafloor
As well as any trees such as sycamore
One up the highest score
And maintain a good rapport
I've always had an interest in lore
Minerals and ores
I'm not rich or technically poor
Worse than any apple, some people rotten to the core
Such foolish things people support
And over such petty stuff people go to war
Still there are areas on this Earth that have yet to be explored
And possible fossils of new dinosaurs
Looking up at the full moon shining beyond so many other orbs
By: Dalton Ogletree
It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4 Beginnings of the
Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting the burning of the Jews, flat
perspective,
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not especially
Jewish,
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone. Although
you die together you die alone.
Earlier that week, I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on
the Roof, thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to My
Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.
Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
Jasper
was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride to my
eye.
Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or
we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the European,
African.
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of elements, bags
of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily compassionate
toward the mother, earth, the goddess, history, or some such
abstraction and, thus, acted on a fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs guarding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting fagots for the burning of the Jews.
Copper blooms, titanium too below the iron of the sky
Rich fields of ore, quarried, lay everywhere without a quarrel
In conjunction with all things shiny on the land and rust of day
Mountains pinnacles are miles high
With gold draped cliffs of drifting yellow beads of brass
Green vegetation grows around them to quell their worries
Reaching to be free from electricity, thermal conductivity
Streams that run along the fields of metal valley mines
Gray with aluminum strands soft and solvent
Punctuate the landscape up above
Anodizing, analyzing, thinking they are zinc
So much of zinc below the solid surface riches
All this to be discerned by proper science expeditions
Metal machines gather what they need to feed their kind
Golden days, silver nights, tongues of tungsten
Wrap themselves around themselves for warmth
Metalloids are not yet born or forged
Malleable to shaping when they come
Some nonmetallic friends stop by to see the young
Marble and silicon are spies
Disclosed, exposed as such
Despised, disposed of for their corrosive side and lies
Platinum dressed in blue arrives
Stays to take a smoke or two
Smoldering in a blistering sun
Smelted, furn-aced for the future
To be tempered into something smooth
To contemplate the truth with other alloys
Query how all metals can be used
How Earth can hold itself together with the ores
Both in the ground and in the metal fields outside
To lay aside barren lands their souls in sun for warmth
Metal-tate a way to feel the force
They carry on and need no water
Of course rocks are most jagged and driest on mountain tops
They yield the finest metals, minerals at their pinnacles up there
And where suns furnace first glowed on
Touched the tip of Earth
Up there still, refines, defines the metal fields
9/22/14 Pinnacle - Poetry Contest
Nested like treasures priceless, eagle parents watch over the brood
On an island far away from the city, I beheld in a vision of azure blue
A rural settlement in waste laying, arid with black bile
A desolate, decaying riverine pride
Above sunken war canoes and ores only dead men mine
Tricked and deprived of life,
Numb but not from the rum they had drunk while on Earth
Now with the blood drained from their faces and their skins ashen
I saw nearly all their sinews rot away in split seconds
And their peaceful joy was pillaged
Yet unerring, inert, and grave quiet
In abundance of wealth they stayed barren
Cold, and stalled
Never had I seen such looping stagnancy,
Their fire had no warmth or vigor
Never had I seen such perfection made otiose by life's rigor
I asked the meaning of the spirit who carried me and one vocalized
Your ancestors require light they cite
The blood of brothers and virgins recite
Tears that never dry until honor is given to their sacrifice
And their bones are brought up to rest through rites
Shall there be feasting made to honor these who fought for heritage?
They knew not Christ
Gutty in the face of drowning deepness
With none to cheer them on with sweetness
If their lives become a graceful adage
Shall they also be examples to our young?
Shall their stories not be told around great bonfires?
Shall their odes not be sung at evenings?
As they dine with the gods by whom they're sired
Who shall reverse their unworthy demise?
Who shall carry them to sleep in the warmth of the land they sunk for?
They who stood to hold the bows for their hearthstone
And suffered the ravaging of foes, even reptilian fate
Possessing virtues in excess yet killed like beings worthless
Dying with seeds unplanted, and many wrested
Their houses are like deserts, their fields are barren and corrupted
Their spirits are rejected for the paths they travelled
Who shall lift their curses of hell and squander?
Who shall reach them now?
Who shall heal their broken spirits in the world after?
7/15/17
Object in space and on the ocean floor
Above the Earth's core
As of now and since way before
Across any shore
Near and far from ores
Either scarce or a galore
Regardless of if you can buy it in a store
Some of which out in the open or hidden behind a door
Put away inside a locked safe or drawer
You'd be a fool to give up and ignore
When there still is so much to explore
Stop obsessing and judging others on if there rich or poor
Actually happened and still happening, not all just lore
Losing, winning or trying to even the score
So many times there has been war
And gore
Broken promises regarding what they had swore
Some plants with thorns
Farms that do or don't grow corn
Among spores, albacore, boar and so much more
Labeled as herbivores, carnivores and omnivores
It's all been neither good nor bad, since the dawn of everything and when I was born
For now, I'm trying to soar
And perform
During night and morn
Taking risks, and reaping rewards
Whether the temperature, cold, average or warm
And in the midst of any storm
With or without a sword