Long Pageant Poems
Long Pageant Poems. Below are the most popular long Pageant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pageant poems by poem length and keyword.
In numerous locales countrywide, they hold sway
Pirouetting at intervals like ballerinas from Bolshoi
Beauteous, feline and very feminine
Slender to the point of emaciation, not quite
Cultivating the undernourished look on a frugal diet
Decidedly austere for a longer tenure in the limelight
Basking in the fleeting warmth of an adulatory audience
A gathering of the doting kindred and the upwardly mobile
Some dirty old men on the sly, dirty young men too
Glued to their seats craning for a better view
By and large captive by choice, a handful perforce
Sitting through to pen their weekly column
Giving those they fancy their due in the sun
Witnesses to a parade of demure eyed lasses
And a few with flashy looks walking tall on stilettos
Essentially female and contoured though not prominently so
At least not to a marked degree, yet with excellent muscle tone
Opulence, no longer deemed a career necessity
Once considered right stuff, now rejected as wrong size
An hour-glass shape belonging to an age bygone
But hardly so, from the viewers’ mind, in retrospect
Enchanting and alluring yet not overtly titillating
Each in a state of dress and undress
Willing tools of designers flaunting their creations
Sporting dresses and hats and shoes, and lingerie too
In black or white and loud or subdued hues
Displaying formal wear, casual wear, swimsuits and sleep suits
Some scanty and figure hugging, others flowing and loose
A bony look required for some, others fulsome
A voyeur’s paradise, to be sure
Indulging a fetish without stooping too low
Chilly weather was never reason enough to cancel a show
Heat of arc-lamps taking care of goose pimples
Or brandy taken neat infusing the needed heat
Harbingers of tomorrow’s fashion and pall-bearers of today’s
The strobe lit platform of the pageant
Serving to launch new faces or is it legs?
The leggy look personified by Twiggy of yore
Carried through in the interim and sustained by the new genre
Captivating without doubt, and thorough professionals
Displaying unruffled demeanour and tutored bearing of thoroughbreds
Exuding confidence with every graceful step they take
Cool as ice despite the harsh glare of stage lights
And callous catcalls from boorish males
Performing in a backdrop of future fashion trends
Money and fame finding some, eluding others
Be it centre stage or in the shadows
It is bread on the catwalk for all
~ Oh, maiden of light cracks the wispy air open ,
wandering around viscous spaces
like virgin shadow caressing the edge
of sleep… and the days stretch longer,
taller than guava trees dreamingly shedding
laces of northeast streams when
songbirds, orbits, and a pageant of flowers listen
to a single humming breeze… and when all else
is sprawled quiet, waterfalls marry her certain
lingering star straying on mouths of gentleness
past eons bound by nuptials in iridescent realms…
*O, ilaw, sa gabing malamig, wangis mo'y
bituin sa langit… O, tanglaw, sa gabing tahimik,
larawan mo, Neneng, nagbigay pasakit. Ay! *
Somehow ,curlicues drape a fragrant smoke
leaking out a folk sky; dancing in the mirror
of the mountain pool… a serenade weeps;
quivering, moaning along the inland pass that
someone said morning becomes electra,
that learning how to hear her blossom or
pearl stone unravels the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
shed her purity far beyond unknowing a
water’s need to keep still: the juice spills…
**Gising at magbangon sa pagkagupiling
sa pagkakatulog na lubhang mahimbing;
buksan ang bintana at ako'y dungawin,
nang mapagtanto mo ang tunay kong pagdaing. * *
Peeling new faces of time, shaping the width of
endless rhyme in sprays of endless mystery...
like so, a thousand times before and after,
twilight and daybreak entwine… oh,light elusive,
passing through calm eyes of young maiden’s season
is love’s way of coming back to itself. ~
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* O, light, in the cold night; you're like a star in the sky
O, light, in the quiet night, your picture, Neneng,
makes one ache…. Oh!
** Awake and arise from slumber,
from your sleep so deep.
Open your window and look out to me
So that you may understand my true lament.
~ this poem is inspired by a harana, a traditional Filipino serenade. The suitor
is accompanied by his friends who back him up both vocally.
At first, the woman's window is closed. The man calls out to her
and if she's interested, she'll open her window.
Singing harana originated during the Spanish
colonial period in the Philippines.~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYueJU0Ufws&feature=related
---------
For Debbie’s Bi-lingual Poetry by nette onclaud
Journey starts
Kunming portraits;
Highway song
Here old and new
Merge yet apart;
Vignettes juxtapose
China welcomes
Both ancient and modern;
Sign of the times
Tour group confronts
Unfamiliar grounds;
Rough edges grind
Quaint ways of old
Ancient tales displaced;
Modern day norms intervene
Spectacular vistas
Natural wonders;
Man seems insignificant
Flood tide drowns
Flushing away;
False assumptions destroyed
Gust of wind
Reveals new passages;
Knowing does not know
Mountain peaks
Valleys well-clustered;
Fertile grounds well-used
Everywhere we go
People of all tribes;
A Chinese pageant
Human nature speaks
Polite tones sway;
Touch of humble quiet
These Chinese people:
Kind, warm, hospitable --
A touch of home
Himalayan backdrop
Mountains for company;
Melodrama purged
Methinks that I
Could hideaway here;
Unknown, undisturbed
One sure currency:
The Chinese language;
Pervasive, ubiquitous
Vast is the land
Far as our eye span;
Beyond imagery
Trades of all sorts
Risk is a sure thing;
Living is risky business
Ancient towns
Showpieces that speak;
In steady silence
Rivers and streams
Winding into quaint towns;
Ancient as old time
Pulse of the moment
Camera shutter snapshots;
Still life captured
Picture posture
By this arched bridge;
Keepsake souvenir
Sensory pursuits
Old Town bazaars;
Hasty trinkets acquired
Silver artisans
Hammer away;
Creations of white metal
Bric-bracs scattered
Awaiting curious eyes;
That impulse buy in tow
Round this village
Tourist show piece;
Modern commerce prevails
Bargains await
Hungry customers;
Weathered Oriental wares
In this roundabout square
Locals and tourists stride;
Seek new-found distractions
Spring time weather
Hot and dry and windy;
Like home without humidity
Our tour guide --
Cautions that silver jewellery
Best bought from reputable shops
Cheap price often
Compromises quality;
Authentic stuff cost much more
Lessons unlearnt
On-the-road trade routes;
Return odd regrets
A silver bangle
Heavy with 99 percent;
Quality speaks tons
Scattered eateries
Street vendors offer;
Glimpses that never die
So much to see,
Words fail description;
Feelings explore facts
Only ten days here
We see yet do not see;
Only vague interpretations
All too soon
Sojourn over;
Yunnan in mind mists
Leon Enriquez
31 May 2014
Singapore
It was a party of fleas who dropped some tea into the sea
Created a baby that left its mommy
Now there is an elephant and donkey in the room
So, lets asked who’s the bigger ***?
A spark, a flare, lighting a camel, an affair
Puff of smoke gone, what went wrong?
Bully the pulpit, who’s the culprit
Line drawn and divided by two
A state of iron bars but let’s call it a zoo
Divided into a system of them vs you
Don’t lose your autonomy
Though everyone is still just a monkey
Collectively a swarm of angry bee’s
The brilliants of hatred and judgment
The embellishment establishment pageant
Yesteryear's of days past are today's fears
Financiers, volunteers as November nears
Comparisons, divisions of wealth’s occupations
Frictions, contradictions, comedians
Who will be the next king of the jungle?
Both proclaiming to be the blissful angel
Tis the mating seasons bestial battle
Birdies tweets all about it on the their social
Scandal! Scoundrel! Oh, look there’s a squirrel
The eternal feral quarrel circle
The apex creatures are very territorial
For the king or queen, gerrymandering
The two-party system is the grand pyramid scheme
Bunch of ***holes looking up and bunch of **** looking down
Kiss up, gallop, gossip, stirrup, who will win the crown?
In this cage, enrage, what’s on the front page?
Who’s saying what about minimum wage?
Outrage about an issue? The cockatoos will throw a horseshoe
Here, eat this grass, here, pray at mass, or don’t
They will provide an antidote
Cheer, this one is such a deer, so sincere, so clear
Ok, the political evolution will find a way to prey on the economic roadway
Confusing rat race values, turn to the news and find out who will lose
Here, oats for the goats. No, the grass is greener over there
But be aware because there is a monster troll lair
Despair not of this nightmare, the election will swear to another road
The only condition for this prince is you must kiss this toad
Bam, the payload full of taxes and other critter’s pensions
Hurry up and cooked this eagle thanksgiving is awaiting
Tis the season for the hating, frustrating, debating,
Won, the elephants and donkeys parties are one hell of celebration
After-all in this zoo, the keepers and guests are laughing at you
Updated 5/14/2019
Form:
The Kuiper belt with frozen realms
our eighth of planets overwhelms,
for if Neptune had not formed
that collection could have swarmed
into a body neophyte,
habitably considered quite
outside the city of tranquil light.
Suggestive of domains of ire
or hellish greed beyond desire,
those icy floating places
evoke the haunted faces
that feign affected smiles despite
their fears and tears alone at night,
outside the city of tranquil light.
We common mortals live and die
for trifles, never asking why,
asleep in mind’s delusion,
on pathways of confusion,
while cherished hopes and dreams take flight
although pursued with all our might,
outside the city of tranquil light.
None can escape the sting of strife
during the whole of earthly life;
storms of fortune fiercely rage
while the mind and body age,
albeit some achieve a height
of recognition shining bright
outside the city of tranquil light.
Our only constant being flux,
we strive yet fail to grasp the crux
and cling to this bubble world
adrift in dimensions curled,
regardless of the poet’s sleight
or savvy from the erudite,
outside the city of tranquil light.
As years go by in swift array
kaleidoscopic passions play,
till like fleeting spectral shades
the phantasmic pageant fades.
What history we choose to write
ensuing epochs may indict
outside the city of tranquil light.
In our search for instant pleasure,
have we lost the taste to treasure
sheer existence, seeming rare
in the universe out there?
Oftentimes at the brink of blight
sentient creatures awake in fright,
outside the city of tranquil light.
Happiness that will ever last
springs from essential wisdom vast
in the deepest inner states
where enlightenment awaits…
Will humankind reverse its plight
and learn to see with purer sight
to find the city of tranquil light?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration was derived from the following passage by Nichiren Daishonin…
“Everywhere other than the Capital of Tranquil Light is a realm of suffering. Once you leave the haven of inherent enlightenment, what is there to bring you joy?“
~ Nichiren (1263)
“Questions and Answers about Embracing the Lotus Sutra (Dharma Flower Sutra)”
Your chosen name was Sarah
So named many moons ago
Nursing my growing belly
Consumed by the moonlight glow
Watching above twinkling starlight
So planned whole life with you
Thinking before you were born
As Sarah inside me grew
You were my total secret
Was conceived in passions flame
Dearest Sarah I loved you
From deciding on your name
My Sarah, Princess Sarah
So saying under my breath
Could no longer hide my shame
To stay would be our death
Many miles I walked that day
Until tired I tumbled down
Faint blackness closed in on me
Woke to dog jumping around
I was carried to a barn
Caring hands tend to my hurt
Shouted out Princess Sarah
Thought I would get just desert
All the while they quietened me
Soothing words urged my repose
Three months later I was birthed
Sarah with sweet button nose
Welcomed home as family
With Sarah too on the farm
When Princess Sarah was two
My worries brought to alarm
Recognised some visitors
Standing beyond the gateway
Turning one looked towards me
With relief they walked away
Princess Sarah at my breast
Reached to wipe away my tear
Nothing further ever said
I worked on year by year
One midsummer, a pageant
May queen to be elected
Gathering in Jackson’s field
My Sarah was selected
She was dancing around the maypole
Sixteen and willowy tall
All eyes on her lovely face
Sarah was gone by nightfall
Princess Sarah was abducted
Bad men carried out this deed
Searched far and wide hereabouts
Note arrived, read “your bad seed”
My dearest Princess Sarah
All in turmoil senses lost
My sin has caught up with me
to my Princess Sarah’s cost
I prayed for deliverance
Then came an amazing sight
My darling Princess Sarah
Glimmering in the moonlight
Her dark eyes looked into mine
With her hair all gone awry
Streaming tears blurred my vision
To blink I tried to deny
But within a fatal blink
Sarah had disappeared
No stirring of the night air
Now so sadly as I feared
So up to bed I then did tread
Sank exhausted on the stair
In dreams Princess Sarah comes
How I long to hold her close
One day it will be final
When I too am in repose
tender petsmart impact, where world wide web populated
with sacrificial pacification sans deity
via oblation, immolation, flagellation appeasing Dominatrix
borrow wing, vis a vis amalgamated viz Roman sol invictus
wrought fiery brimstone tempting those who dared
assert contrary fledgling jambalaya outlook
provoking regally supreme sacerdotal wiseman
punishing opposing incorporating
novel modus operandi explaining sacrilegious worship
such heretics pitched headlong
into fiendish frothing furnace
forcing obeisance toward primitive popular
identified, honored, glorified father figure
expressing devotion re:
decking the halls of the mountain king,
whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths
sanctifying twisted brambles via sprinkling angel dust
(actually cremated remains of malefactors
stripped of habiliments) during bleak winter
unwittingly interweaving nascent (futuristic)
formally codified bona fied religions
unknowingly, tacitly, silently rendering
quintessential premises obliging
layperson to foreswear locally rooted secular treatises
trounced, trumpeted unction voided
wishy washy antithetical blind faith coalescing edicts
over course of time became established
Greco-Roman imposed group think
disallowing cynics,
diametrically emerging fanatics, skeptics
who (if he/she did not recant
recalcitrant recommended recourse
faced torture amidst throng of madding crowd
as entertainment and forewarning gall
asper those who held steadfast dissimilar views
taught since birth, when citizenry reared
as just a little drummer boy/ girl pipsqueak
taught to stay the course (sans straight and true)
bound without freedom to express contrary aspects
of ways and whyfores, which accepted traditions
controlled each green day
and silent night, wherefore unimaginable ogres
lined straying hip cats
eventually ensnared within warpath,
whence law of the land lend scimitar to smite
any mortal man, woman or child with flaming torches
licking the heretical body electric,
while defiant individuals
left to burn into decimated
charcoal blackened, ashen corpse.
(Bracketed words are not to be included in poem for they are only meant to bring home the phrase or word used)
From the eternal cake of her mother
There lies the eternal seed among mud;
Heaven born, a one mud cradled pamper.
Without love, light and care, how would you lug?
And to chase that you are a heaven born,
To tell beauty is chaste as was just sworn.
Her mud milk and cold water make her strong.
Dim infancy casts her spirit to light;
Must reach ken of patience as day's night's long.
Amongst dark, cold ,drown childhood her root's white.
And to straight this vile stage to once Eden,
To cue all that peace roofs each dreamt heaven
The anglers and fishes play hide and seek.
The gloom bait bathes in charm and fishes hunt.
All at once are they when she is in meek.
The joy they (fishes) had is what anglers must fond.
And so states untimely jolly is all worst,
To chirp midnight ends not the night to last.
She is soft, but not for breezy water
To make her quiver at a little breeze.
But for joy-zealers (fishes ,water), they ripple ever.
Only they settle when rude vase decrees
'Tis not you that stir but grow above them
And that love (love spirit of light ) make not live in mayhem.
And when morn steals the hearts, you wait your time.
Whilst bees jump for wine, you sleep for your morn.
You are a green pendant for clear sky to chime
That bell of dusty soil for rain or storm.
When convulsed gleaming crests lure your virgin,
You ball calm in air and tell what they mean.
Morning kisses sky when you kiss heaven.
With you, cloud, rain or mire boy is pageant.
Pious silk veils haze your diadem of golden,
Hides a wise pearl in your sea of delight
Divine smell of you - as you scented mud!
And charm with dust without any 'but'.
And when it is time for your loyal girls;
To seed this vile dust the voice you lived on,
At once you throw off your diadem and veils.
Without tears you face sky when they are gone
For you wot that dark mud made your Eden
And breeze could ne'er bear the base of heaven.
(A different perspective of HERO)
For the contest HERO dated : 20 Nov 2017
the end nears with Jesus and witches
let us hope there are no more glitches
little baby wears a mask in the manger
conceived socially distant without danger
no Golgotha crowd but liked tweeted clips
zoom calls for blurring out the Lords hips
immaculate censorship under lockdown
Amazon send the Saviour a virtual crown
due to panic buying there is no shortfall
of hygienic wipes for disinfecting our wall
by divine fortune rusty nails are also on offer
only the blood of Christ is scarce to proffer
Netflix shows reruns of a sound-bitten tale
a broker insists Christmas must be for sale
Wall Street continues with arms as a treasure
delivers lost lives and legs for good measure
conspiracy theorists say the Messiah was real
Wikileaks concurs but is brought to heel
by purveyors of halos spiked rosaries and zeal
as smoke cries for free ashes for dispersal
on graves boneyards and rotten rehearsal
a cat pees on the tree and needs to be spayed
Sigmund Freud calls for complex castration
of subconscious death wishes and propagation
in need for seeds to be neutered for creation
reality caves in and we must remove the stone
together we’re united Sisyphus is never alone
video calls remind us that the virus lives on
crosses borders without passports to and from
no visa required no customs only free trade
for hypocrisy bigotry Egos not easily slayed
what I would give for rewinding the legend
and attend carol singing and school’s pageant
in person not be stuck with oversized meals
walk freely to food banks attempting to heal
falsity ingratitude injustice entitlement schism
the infant itself may not be above criticism
but glitter and presents wrapped in blindness
are no substitute for love and true kindness
compassion does not require an opulent mall
no masses no pining nor spruce ever so tall
It’s time for reflection faith reason emotion
not notional piety and once yearly devotion
for Christ’s sake let’s stop moaning and start
to share from a warm and good-natured heart
24th December 2020
Preface to this brief bitty
written snap ting snapshot – word ditty
dates back before I reached gritty
age of eight and fifty, aye recall a kitty
rescued by my youngest sister, who took pity
and felt aghast,
at a potential cruel fate no witty.
Upon return home from an Antioch College coup
(so many diverse work experiences required -
some involving offal goop
i.e. case in point being this anecdote,
which may fall outside the loop
of common “hands on
off fish shawl” employment,
thee tasks on par with handling poop
stoically accepted by Shari Todd
(name of said sibling),
who when home from Davis, California
(albeit temporarily, and before she returned
to Yellow Springs, Ohio) divulged
how she did scoop
dread, dreck, dregs, et, cetera –
i.e. by product amidst fish farm
didst set her dead against being linkedin
purr animal cruelty, thus play role of troop
er – which tummy
earned her kudos a resounding whoop!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Before launching into this poem purr say
lemme mention how thine late mother
took an immediate affinity and hence no delay
that this lucky creature became akin to a bebe.
Main Coon, Felis catus, nicknamed Boozie
raccoon features, face mask, brown thick costume
handsome boy, affectionate personality, expressively vocal
Pink wet nose, emerald eyes, pointed ears
cavernous mouth, sharp teeth, rough tongue
striped design, massive fluffy fur, bushy tail
Soft paws, padded cushions, retractable blades
wild animal, predation urge, survival instinct
agile movement, swift motion, unfortunate victim
Door prize, flies feast, whitened bones
loyalty strong, pageant display,
splayed across kitchen table courtly dignity
Quiet house, sonar sounded, Cheshire upward smile
purred softly, rubbed legs, warm vacant lap
Jumping agility, firmly sequestered
Contentment expressed, internal hum, reciprocal therapy
beautiful petsmart, little monkey, comfortably sleeps
peaceful slumber, wakeful stretch, ideal life
Fortunate intervention, cat whisker to demise,
brush avoided becoming piscine meal,
kingly privileged role, heartfelt love.