Long Pandora Poems
Long Pandora Poems. Below are the most popular long Pandora by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pandora poems by poem length and keyword.
It felt like an unspoken dream of someone else.
It was a memory of Lisle, IL, quite a while ago.
I was waiting at the train station, to be picked up.
It was almost dark, and I was waiting. And so is a lady.
At least I thought so. And then I realized something.
She was not waiting. She was not there, not at all.
She looked at me in the eye. I was not at all comfortable.
“And the American dream!” She shouted!
I jumped from the sitting area. I was startled, anxious.
No trace of my car yet! And She went on muttering,
Which almost seemed a monologue, she is talking her mind.
I had to believe it has to do something with her way of talking,
That she is not waiting in that train station, not waiting for anything.
She had white cloths, not clean enough, and a bag with her. And a look.
It was almost evident that she was angry. Only that is true. True enough to panic.
I am drafting this, decades later. I am dragging moments from my pandora box.
I hated myself then. As, it felt like an unspoken dream of someone else, unknown.
Pandora’s library is an eclectic group of gorgeous well-loved things
Dragons, gargoyles, faeries, fantasy books that lead to diamond rings
There is a whimsy and cherished feeling that cannot be denied,
For within Pandora lives her inner child, with a smile wide
Pandora is ageless, this coffee mug collector, who loves her books.
Missives of romance and poetry. some collected for their pretty looks.
She has a shelf of her childhood picture books also, from her mother.
She has not kept any missives selected by her blood-thirsty brother.
Her world is upside down fun, enthusiasm on a pogo stick.
She keeps herself alive and well, and lays fantasy on rather thick.
Her library guardians - gargoyles and dragons, come along at night
She will be sneak reading next to this bookshelf with a red flash light
Yes, under the fluffy bed covers, she can often be found.
Not making a peep, not making a sound
Remembering how often she had to sneak, book-bound
As she read well into the night, when her folks were around.
Vane glorious and absolutistic,
though I defiantly,
cavalierly, and blithely attest
Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy
mine acidic breast
houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic,
barbaric, and bubonic
cannibalistic demons within thy
safely guarded Pandora chest
atomic cesium clock
timed to trigger avast
burst of anxiety, frenzy, and
(What me worry
Alfred E. Neuman) blast
ting mental quietude at most
inappropriate, inconvenient,
inopportune, out classed
adrenaline rush, nausea,
palpitating heart, vertigo
besieging, corrupting,
endeavoring fractured arrant
cleft daemonic gripping
hellishly psychic chant
rendering unto sieze hoar,
a choking vise grip extant
yule hiss sieze indomitable
banshee fully controlling grant
diabolic, dogmatic, and dynamic,
anguished corporeal ache
easily, egregiously, and emblematically,
exemplified historically
graphic fatalistic, and ecstatic coup,
(koo), when I caused furious frantic flight,
and/or fight betake
king angst causing just desserts
for Marie Antoinette,
who got her humble pie cake,
thence dispensing with formalities,
where a joshing drake
(named Gill O. Teen)
also known (solely known
to mine selfish source error ways)
alias i.e. as; the Lewis (loose)
lunatic, heady harvester,
and decapitation Deacon trumpeting,
trouncing, and triumphing tranquility
for fifty three Tuesdays,
thence sea king punishing psychotic
pre pound payment
basking in glory (re: gory us)
amidship crashing quays
music to mine ears hearing plaintive neighs
high pitched straining
vocal chord hamstrung keys
regaling oceanographic
lambent hagiographic essays
and keeping at bathos bays.
Oh, Pandora
I adore ya
Won't you come an see;
I will care for you;
Honor and adore you;
Your beautiful
Oh, Oh, oh Pandora;
Majestically we will be;
there's a honor, with no drama;
You were meant for me, could it be;
That I love you so;
Could it be
We were meant for me, Oh;
Could it be
I don't just know, all I know is that you're lovely;
so lovely, so lovely
I love her...
Pandora
Majestically we will be
There's a honor with no drama;
You were meant for me;
Could it be
That I love you so
Could it be;
We were meant to be, Oh
Could it be;
I don't just know, all I know is that you're lovely, so lovely
lovely so lovely
Pandora
I love her so
Spanish verse 2.
Oh, Pandora
Te adora ya;
No viene in vere;
Se cuidan
Honrar y adorer
Eres precioso
Oh, oh, Pandora
Majestuosamente estaremos;
Es in honor, no hay drama;
Singificaron para mi;
Podia ser de
Que te amo asi Podia ser de
Nosotros estabamos destinados a ser, Oh
Podia ser de
No se, todo lo que se es
que eres encantador tan encantador, tan encantador
La quiero...
Pandora
majestuosamente estaremos;
Es in honor,
no hay drama
Significaron para mi;
Podia ser de
Que te amo asi
Podia ser de
Nosotros estabamos
destinados a ser, Oh podia ser de
No se, todo lo que se es
que eres encantador tan encantador, tan encantador
La quier...
Pandora
08/17/17
Written words & Arranged music by James Edward Lee Sr.
I was surfing the internet this morning…and among the stories in a world of woe…
there on the page before me…someone posted a picture of a butterfly in the snow.
And I thought as I sat there hoping somehow…our leaders…peace into our life would bring…this butterfly is also hoping…that winter will turn to spring
And I started thinking about nature and her beautifully varied kaleidoscope
of examples she sets before us…to remind us there is hope.
A little starling flying against the wind…a rainbow stretched across the sky…
flowers growing up through stones, the metamorphosis of a butterfly.
An acorn hoping to become a tree…should evoke in us hope’s power
Sea turtles racing to the sea…a new sprout about to flower.
A bird singing in the darkness…hoping for the sun and the start of a brand new day
An new-born baby’s hopeful cry….opening presents on Christmas Day
We all know the name Pandora…in one story of Greek Mythology she’s the star…
the woman who unleashed evil into the world…by opening a jar.
(Yes it was a jar the original Greek mythologists created….
but somewhere in the 16th century the word was mis-translated!)
When Pandora realized what she’d done…realized the world would be forever stained…she quickly shut the jar…where inside only Elpis, the goddess of hope, remained.
The ancient Greek mythologists used this story to remind us in a world where it’s hard to cope…to remember, just like Pandora, we always carry hope.
So when my hope begins to fade…when I think evil has progressed too far…
I remember Elipis, the goddess of hope, who Pandora’s carried in her jar.
And on other days when the news is bad…and I’m feeling la little low….
I’ll think of birds who sing in the darkness…and butterflies in the snow.
Twice parliament asked the people,
Twice the answer was loud and clear from the people,
Twice there was a no to Euthanasia by the people.
Twice I joined the people in Select committee,
Twice I joined the people to give up time for free,
Twice parliament summed its nose at democracy.
Twice the parliament misled the majority of people,
Twice they bowed to the minority of people,
Twice they denied democracy to the majority of the people.
Thrice now replaced twice as now there appeared a private members bill,
Thrice now those who had said no in select committees, felt ill,
Thrice parliament asked democracy to write a will.
Thrice democracy almost died,
Thrice now has changed to four with an election eyed,
Thrice that is now four will the future of democracy decide.
Now the people for or against will have their say,
Now the people for or against will have to say yay or nay,
Now the people for or against will chose if Pandora will come in to play,
Now the people for or against will chose if her box will be put away,
Now the people for or against will chose if the lid is shut for another day.
Now that covid 19 has come along,
Now is the the time for those who were for, to say they were wrong,
Now as they look for they, who are gone,
Now is the time when democracy needs to remain strong.
Now is the time for parliament to be bold,
Now is the time for a threshold,
Now is not the time for a minority to put the majority out in the cold,
Now is the time when the will to live through pain, is a sight to behold,
Now is the time to welcome democracy back into the fold,
Now is the time for pandora and her box to gather more mould.
expecta O' Greta great dep·re·depta
snitchie fumes crud
Senate weaselin' words
mosaic-speak fungals thrall-truth up your nostrils
unmasked civil·a·tons
square crotch per smile
poeta decepta leaks India unda bear
panda wear
fund a hole: Pandora Pumps!
child wonda nuf crumbles Vatican busts
spangled in clown clothes
bustled to dust
depravity's cavities coupes enchiladas
inflicting inflections on cartoon erections
so verge on my bliss-vittles "goose tinge" me plights
please translate dos colander's humanoid blights
thy nuclear nickel-sickle pickles delight
or do like Shrub junior said- just
go £ucking shop.
___________________
Notes:
1. Two declarations America might consider.
i. Declare Washington D.C. a separate country and...
ii. Declare war on it.
the icy mix is coming down
got my applewood bacon and cheese hot pockets
got my cheddar cheese instant grits
got my hint of honey almond milk
yet i am still a bit hoarse
the icy mix is coming down
got my remote control
found a fairly new episode of house hunters
got my favorite place on the sofa
yet i am still a bit off the main course
the icy mix is coming down
set my tablet up in pandora
got my louis jordan station giving me eargasms
laid my weary body down in my favorite spot on the bed
yet i am still feeling a tad bit far from near
the icy mix is coming down
got the blinds open but ajar
got the attention span on the view but partially
got a maze craze space as filler for the rest of the day
yet i am still the unfortunate source of a malevolent misery because she is not here
listen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=NtbunQgEi_0
marooned …
she looked sad
when I stopped her
the action of a theory
almost mad as sure
determination grows
four . identification
a matter of when
we show
unification . politico
perfectus to socio
… it’s the order she knows
a pandora . a where now
of why she goes . she echoes
of bio . psyche . technico
the sixth
a scent undeniable
and undetectable
but for the few
….
she looked up
and knew
in his eyes
the truth
.
I’m out of time
genetically modified
to not show
and I’m rogue
….
stunned
and in stereo
her voice within him
let his mind say go
and she was gone
a para . sight
of entangled song
.
the names Callisto
she drove on
as he watched her
fade to colors unseen
” it’s where I’ve been “
he could hear her
a new horizon
unknown of when
she’d return
.
lines of dimension
distort in a form
unmentioned
a storm of disorder
in a Jovian doam
.
her intention
is to move in time
inspired by
Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
Philip K Dick
" and I don’t know why "
When you sort decades of electric cables from that box hidden away
It reminds of disentangling neurons haphazardly fired at random
It’s a beautiful day and you’re in it among sea saw and hammer
Hundreds of screws in the tool box and all you want is a single unbent nail
Somewhere hidden under plucky wall plugs and skewed rusty hinges
If life gives you lemons a power drill defeats convention
Nuts bananas and bolts mislaid in the fridge with washers and powder
Reveal the essence of an organized mind squished in the blender
Bedlam chaos fragmentation or glorious harmony
Synapses jumping like fleas on the mindful grey patched neuronal carpet
Heavily worn by August the Clown because a well led life is a circus
Knowledge pushed into action potentially in a meaningful way
Buttons in the haberdashery basket cased in creativity’s mad insanity
Knotted threads from life-long preservation of patchwork and passion
Enmeshed a few screws yet again and a bubble gum wrapper
And that hammer once more testing reflexes deflected patella and callus
A pendulum for more esoteric days and a Tarot card next to the cross
Saved for a rainy day of prayer and the coronation of dreams
After decade long quest a screw is still a screw whether loosened or nailed
The sander of unfinished living grinds on to an egg timer’s analogue fashion
And who an earth would prefer finding a rivet to crafting a poem
One possible morale of the story is that hardware plies softly myriads of magic
That in the wider scheme of things there are enough contraptions in the case
And once they start giggling and straying Pandora is happy
17th April 2019