Long Paean Poems
Long Paean Poems. Below are the most popular long Paean by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paean poems by poem length and keyword.
A nirvana sublime awakens my lurking heart ripple core peace,
svelte billowing balm sunrise engagingly facilitates blithe release,
awe-induced momentum strolling urban wild parks,
when I view vibrant ponds, streams, trees, gardens, eco benchmarks,
in heaven’s habitats this earthly mortal drawn to northern cardinal,
they nest on eastern red cedar inducing calm realms optimal,
brushstroke fawn brown species conspire with blue blush sky,
emitting lucid swathe of sedate whistles that evoke a sigh,
mellow mind cerebral for serene mint green shrub’s cue,
to tranquility instilled by rampant blossoms aromal spew,
gold visuals galore allay my being, soul and psyche with cascades,
luscious vistas spiral, deft beauteous bonanza of parades,
nomad plume fellow ramblers hedged by noonday nurse air,
on a whim in idyllic delectation they mingle devoid of care,
rafts of heat mediator, latent morning chill quiescent bonus,
stilly haunt layers whose whispered weave an enrapt onus,
evening spectra drifts oe’r ritual richesse trail coat gloaming aglow,
eventide neath welkin douse turbulence that nagging woe,
fresh bud cycle ripening of equanimity, harmony, and bliss,
me in burgeoning pearly paean shuns nerve-racking abyss
Crumb
li
ng
Beneath the deadweight of a broken dream.
Scared, I mean scarred enough to make the novocaine scream.
Fal
l
en
Are the feathers of an angel's wing,
Treated like an animal.
Another broken thing—
And I tied my cilice myself,
With the same hands that made a noose to reenact the times I almost drowned.
With every step I take, I raise a tiny hallelujah—
As the cilice bites my thighs and no one knows.
No one knows the paean I'm humming,
the red excoriation blooming under denim.
The way every barb kisses my skin like a lover
who doesn't ask for dinner first.
The cilice is my parish,
Every crimson bead is an unanswered prayer.
And here I genuflect before a god of pain,
Then come the vespers at the porcelain alter.
Pouring out scriptures written in acid,
While enacting kenosis as the holy water swirls away.
Absolution circles clockwise, Down a throat of porcelain. Somewhere beneath the floorboards Heaven has a drainage system.
And with a growl I say amen.
If this is salvation,
Why does it taste like violence?
~Kynsie~
The breast of the Carolina wren sighs,
and the tinge of autumn glorifies the
silent beauty of his engraved name on
marble and granite,
a tribute to the youth bridegroom
known for the cherish of his gleaming
love he had in life.
A cascading veil of lace,
white roses,
teardrops,
a pall cast over his bride and
nuptial guests.
Hail him, with his heart that had
goodness, generosity, and joy.
The bridegroom died on his
wedding morn.
In a passage of mortal to eternal,
the sparrows dedicate sorrow in
autumnal songs to him.
His betrothed stands in the grass,
her groom, her love, in
September’s embrace,
In the mourning fields.
North Carolina bereavement is
everlasting,
in her mountains of gold and
crimson,
her Piedmont, her coast.
Such lament aflame-
unbridled in its pain.
Our paean rings of his song,
his tragic journey to join the Lord
and His angels,
as the mist shrouds envelop
his bride,
in the mourning fields. ~
Lustrously exposed, save the lamp posts;
How inviting...shadows of two
wrapped in pearly silver---
a moving photograph in pastel colors
framing a moment's rendezvous
as dusk filters the pavement
riqht where bodies shimmer undercover :
Trees wave at the moon for traces of bliss
on a byway of sinuous motion,
the silhouettes hazy vet lightly engaged
in malleable outlines when hours
linger to wait for an affair's finale
past the radius of lamp posts ,
the eerie gray from night's paean
seeps the view, collapsing into bloodied glass...
A forlon figure stands alone
...while the tint of intimacy
pours its last glow.
viridescent wrench
adventitious
sparks prompt
yet
cloned camouflage
for psyche
rue’d quandary
withered wisps
nebulous
blind sweep
to bolster
plangent paean
of
helium hinged
extraneous
life sojourn
brazen folly
as
crimson cordon
ushers blurred
mystic squall
quirky quilt
engulfing
behemoth blemish
post sequence
encrypted kismet
punctual launchpad
to
wizard woo
violin mesmerizing
allusive pluck
sun-dried spiccato
bouncing bow
on
ear adorned
murmuration
intaglio instant
pregnant alms
luxuriant
gazillion gust
oe’r
hint endowed
sky syndicate’s
phantom limb
an
opulent cascade
ubiquitous umbra
bequeathing
lush serendipity
propitious prism
shadow conjuror
of
lilac lavishness
tangibly material
as
cerebral chakra
intuits rapt
sublime sublimation
Ubiquitous sun
consuming through icy shadows
amidst winter chorus
Delphic paean on elysian winds
lustral chorales in
amber chronicles
Slowly sung, it's a lullaby of dreams
with moonlight charms
lulling you to sleep
I need to remember this night
the light we ignite within
shedding our sin
We soar boldly into silky shards
my ankles wobble, and I sway
Meekness left me speechless.
maintain moss's fear of tinkering
eroded by wear and tear
like a battered victory.
reaching out to the darkness
can the night swallow me?
hiding tinges of mellifluous tones.
In the rustle of leaves
hides a melody,
soulful as a barren call.
radiates an indomitable spirit
fears and quandaries cloud firm-level
in a shroud of myopia.
because rivers can't be crossed twice
switch to callow intrigue
tea is a lone integer in a ripening world.
Written: January 30, 2023
Brian Strand Contest No 1178 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
'Pon gleaning lasses,
and sir really not alright
not "FAKE" lads
grievousness doth bite
Love's Labour's
(Romeo and Juliet)
Lost sequel - colyte
(an emetic) more
bare hubble despite
abdominal cramps
(post colonoscopy),
where this poetic soul admits,
the latter doth not
hole hearted lee excite
yet, countless plaintive verses fight
ting despair espied
by unsuspecting readers
(such as yours truly),
no shining knight
ruminating squelched, spurned, light
ning and/or soiled
paramours hurtful might -
bitter byte size pill
deters peaceful night
methinks tortures teariness plight
unstoppably, vicariously,
and wickedly quite
this veritable stranger experiences
lamentation toward each right
or left word thinking
youthful earthlinked, sad sight
fractured gnarled hotmail in tight
fitting pants, and/or
ill humored gal uptight
an afflicted aching,
thus this paean I write
availing thyself
for those who cry
(game lee), and perhaps
feel like they wanna die
unsure how to help
fracturing soul I espy
unable to heal,
but on a whim
this idea didst fly
unsure yar bitta
bing banged psyche
ja wanna entrust this guy
kindle ling emotional pain hi
underwent during mine
almost three scores years my
body sashayed round
the sun well nigh,
now within avast
delicate web I ply
tender tinder tumblr
full spilling sadness sigh
lent lee self cannibalizing
vulnerability, yet try
in vane unable to heal
airing youtube whatsapp
without me asking why
only this papa of two
near grown daughters
intervention likened
to race against time, -
viz being potential
dead serious life saver,
this yang doth not not lie!
As in the fabled medieval times of centuries in the deep past,
It’s time once again to celebrate the hidden ugly horror that
Seeks to infest and devour all human souls in this new century.
Be warned that false-faced beggars shall knock at each door,
And unbeknownst to the common people that they shall meet
On this All Hallows’ Eve—all shall not be well and normal!
With their bloodstained masks these real Ghosts, Ghouls and
Goblins shall shout out “Trick or Treat” as a fiend’s true cover
For something that’s sordid, unclean, ungodly, and macabre.
Looking for a clever sweet surprise for the unsuspecting souls,
These devilish minions begin gathering and dancing wildly to
“The Dark Spirit of the Pale Hallowed Moon” on this night!
Shawled with the darkness of souls and their living nightmares,
Ghastly silver phantoms now seek to scare the living-death out
Of every innocent person they encounter on this darkest eve.
Houses are marked by an eerie orange-pumpkin-light escaping
Into the dancing-dark shadows that hold all night-life precious,
As these phantoms move freely in the frigid breath of this night!
Creating a palpable angst they begin shaking the tree branches as
Horrid and terrifying spirits of true evil and witchcraft escape into
The cold-dark ether caught up in the vile magic of Lucifer himself.
Fortunately, they are tricked by the sound of an old tune playing a
Heavenly paean for knowing “What's Right From What’s Wrong,”
And warning them that the wrath of Almighty God awaits them!
In the end, the absolute power and holy majesty of Almighty God
Served as the saving grace to this foul situation which threatened
The innocent souls who were ensnared by these unholy phantoms.
And so, if thou doth question the probity of what hath been related to
You in this sacred narrative, then thou shall risk forfeit of your soul,
As these evil phantoms lurketh ever in the shadows and never forget!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 19, 2018
(Tercet)
The Valley Of Love And Delight':
An anniversary feting mine birth (date),
a plan we almost didst ditch
nonetheless the general game plan
soared like an Eagle,
and went off swimmingly (into a dive)
hence we chose Wegman's with doll finned porpoise
minus a sue per stevedore tailored hitch
cuz the China Jade restaurant
near Collegeville Redner's
nearly felt cold as ice dining niche
as if we accidentally
got highjacked to Siberia
where heat took precedence
verses restaurateur eatery reputable pitch
thus despite praise worthy Yelp reviewers,
whether they be named Poe or Rich
hard, earning their keep whose fingers
hut till lee diploid across
warp and weft to stitch
together disparate threads
weaving a webbed whirled Magnum Opus
where thoughts analogous
to this aspiring paperback writer exerts,
(whose muscles twitch)
in an attempt for phalanges
tortured as going every which
way with to craft a non ode us paean
from deep within thy bowel
applying me magical diving rod –
essentially a computerized dowel
which makes a dinging sound,
or emitting an odor most fetid and fowl
unintentionally inducing creatures
large and small to howl
at the abominable cursing and swearing
using languages that lack a vowel
sound - clouding ability to communicate
to remain steadfast
with intent thwarted by (third eye blind)
minor detour of fate
three doors down and celebrate modestly,
NEVER thought to "FAKE"
forgo wing NOR deferring
time to be spent with
a gluten and MSG free
NON GMO endearing sibling
NO whey iz she dee snide dour twisted sister
hood moost likely become irate
invested in marriage to a loving mate.
* For Mary Kathleen Lessard Caithness *
~
cast tie-lines to shadowy depths above
meteors to plunge the ocean of suns
kick off - tally-ho! from the pier of known
a scoundrel's nod to the skull and bone
vast skies uncharted now beckon ahead
a dusk of dreams splashed yellow and red
naught but astounding, the adventures be
an endless sojourn 'cross a sparkling sea
the sky-palette waits for a score of tales
come a warm solar wind to puff the sails
all worries and why's now, abaft the beam!
set our course due for a foolish dream!
a celestial tempest to bend the jack
to his tasking a-hold the kicking strap
stem the tide, aye, mind the moonbeam drift
spread her wings wide and give her lift
the sextant's now set to the Milky Way
(we'll grave her clean on a windless day)
to port side, a wink from the Seven Sisters
off starboard, the gleam of nebulous vistas
we sunder the clouds with our wake of mist
now dark matter deep and heaven-kissed
tossed by the waves through a sea of night
we gasp for the void, yet we drown in light
our spirits denuded and paean-versed
we dare constellations to do their worst
for now we all pull to the labor at hand
to chart the expanse of this boundless land
at the bidding and mercy of a rapturous breeze
three prayers for fair winds and following seas
'til our hearts are sated and our marrow torn
and we drop our anchor there, worry-worn …
on the sands of time, we'll commend our dance
and return our dust ... to the great expanse.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Sky" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausen, Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Best Rhyming Poem 2018" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ at Poetry Soup.com, awarded February 1, 2018.