Long Paraded Poems
Long Paraded Poems. Below are the most popular long Paraded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paraded poems by poem length and keyword.
Before you came into my life, the sun shined, the breeze blew, the birds flew, and
people mingled. Day after day, I witnessed life's splendor through my window. I had
an urge one day to venture outside my captor. The sun still shined, the breeze still
blew, the birds still flew, people still mingled, and I was life's spectator. Suddenly,
then came you, you entered my life like the sunlight that interrupts the dark, like the
music that fills the silence, like the supernova that brightens the sky. Our hearts
spoke an inaudible language that only two lonely souls know; thus, faith has
become our liberator. Now, we are inseparable. As we frequently strolled through
the ravine, the sunlight paraded her beauty laminating our path, birds gracefully
glided through the air as if they were been choreograph, the summer breeze burst
with fragrance caressing our souls, and consequently we became a part of the
cosmos. like a well-deserved gift that is torn from one's arms, so is my heart, faith
has torn us apart. Instead now, we are kindred spirits separated by distance, so, I
retreat to the familiar to witness life's splendor. The sun shines, the breeze blows,
the birds fly,and people mingle.
Precocious precious pink unicorn had a priceless smile.
Precise and pretty, it could light a road for over a mile.
Prancing ponies paraded alongside her in her dream,
Practically princely, proud of her pink perfection preen.
Pandas, pythons and parakeets did not understand at all.
Priceless precious pretty unicorn paraded pride that fall.
Perhaps Professor Pony can enlighten the other folk,
Philosophical purple pony suggested to the elm and oak.
Pleased, polite and pretty, pink unicorn is okay already.
Providing people with explanations are problematic, Teddy.
Precocious precious pink unicorn was happy to have a friend.
Psychologically sound, these two ended up together in the end.
How many of you have done this?
You go into another room
To get something really important
Suddenly your mind goes KABOOM!
In the lightning flash of a instant
You haven't a clue why you're there
You rack your brain for the answer
Just stand there with a vacant stare
So back to the room you came from
Hoping something will click
For sure your mind will recover
You start feeling dizzy and sick
What if you can never remember?
Go to your grave not knowing why
You got up to go there for something
But your brain feels like it's fried
Sometimes it renders man useless
Their existence productive no more
Dribbling and mumbling “what was it?”
This feeling you can't ignore
Then as you're ascending to heaven
Your life is paraded before you
In a flash you scream out, “I've got it!”
“I was headed for the loo!”
© Jack Ellison 2015
Amid the sexy lingerie
The bride-to-be received,
There was a garment out of place,
Or so some folks believed.
It was a housedress from the past,
A little drab and faded,
In which the grandma of the bride
Once through her house paraded.
That grandma is no longer here,
But spoke up through that dress.
Her daughter and her grandchild
Felt her kvelling,** I would guess.
And though that shapeless schmatte*
Wasn’t bridal-like to wear,
It let us know that Grandma Ida
Had a presence there.
I love when past and present
Are connected with a link;
That housedress did its job and Ida
Would be tickled pink.
*an old piece of clothing or material
**bursting with joy and bragging about it
Family love is born in little rooms,
around sofas, settees, dinner plates,
with paternal bond that strengthens and grooms,
unswerving link that lasts till heaven’s gates!
We were such family in a French town,
traditional, true, religious us four,
mother was good at making wedding gowns,
father a decorator ran paint store!
Sister and I watched German troops on streets,
Tuesday August year nineteen forty three,
parents held us close, could hear their heartbeat,
that was the last day we would all be free!
Dragged on to street by the Nazi soldiers,
our father was punched kicked and beaten blue,
we wept helpless, clung to mother’s shoulders,
that was the last of our father we knew!
Pulled away from mother and Sis I cried,
screaming imploring, no mercy, no heart,
that day for me when humanity died,
was day my family was torn apart!
Packed in a train suffocating with stench,
alone defeated waited journey’s end,
with dead and dying that made stomach wrench,
four days of thirst and suffering to spend.
I remember that train to Auschwitz well,
journey that destroyed many lives like mine,
where our love and hope to tyranny fell,
to death we were paraded in a line!
Six months past we heard exchange of fire,
that made evil enemy pack and run,
We were all rescued from behind barbed wire,
was still hope and goodness under the Sun!
When God smiles he smiles generously well,
lifts suffering souls from bottomless pit,
That day he was smiling we could all tell,
his eyes perhaps gleaming and face well lit!
Each life and hope with dignity restored,
we were treated, bathed clothed and given food,
In room of people saw face I adored,
sobbing with outstretched arms my mother stood!
United with mother back to my house,
and years of togetherness we would share,
on the wall hangs our striped prisoner blouse,
to tell trappings of hatred and its snare!
The train to Auschwitz took many to death,
guilt ridden, to and fro ran that train,
but tracks remain, hate may creep back in stealth!
train to Auschwitz should never run again!
Premier contest 6th placement
Written 09/April/2021
10 syllables each line (PS syllable count)
based on a true story as related by a 93 yr old Auschwitz survivor
The last train to Auschwitz poetry competition
Kai Michael Neumann sponsored
I try just to even stand but end up falling down
Such a bitter sweet end as now You they crown
Already badly beaten there's Blood everywhere
Man is but a creatine how could he ever dare
Each of every 39 lashes my heart winces in pain
As my own life flashes such a love I can not feign
In so mocking Your Name and cursing at You
But not once did You blame our Savior so true
Carrying our heavy cross paraded in the street
In replacing our loss it's Your Praises I repeat
It's Your Praises I repeat tears still in my eyes
Oh LORD! how they beat! my heart just cries
As there YOU hung throughout the third hour
Heavens Angels sung all knowing Your Power
Faith is but a window Light shinning through
Insults they threw, as they just didn't know
Luke 22:63
And the men that held Jesus
mocked him, and smote him.
The Madonna looked less
than amused as she swayed
in time to the steps
of the six men who carried her
aloft down Hart Street
towards the river
and the waiting fleet.
This was no solemn affair
but a spectacle played out
to attract the favor
of a power moved by
pageantry and theatre.
No puritanical restraint
paraded here.
Crowds lined the way.
Half the number were Italians
who cheered and gave full throat
to their passions
and the pride in planting
a cutting of their culture
to root in the shores
of a new home.
This was the sixties.
Their infectious spill swamped
the normally staid order
of the working class precinct
and set something exciting loose.
The other half, local Anglo stock,
kept their distance and a firm grip
on exuberant display,
harboring approval within
the limits of a broad smile
and a self conscious clap.
Emotions were only let out
on Saturdays to support
the local football team
when even the meekest
could become rabid.
The Blessing of the Fleet
still plays out each year,
largely unchanged,
though kept afloat by increasingly
secular sentiments,
and sways its way through
a crowd now more a singular
chorus of noise and hard
to seperate. Fishing boats
festooned in flags blaze
triumphant under a bright
September sun.
now hear the unheard cries
of dalit women plight
upper caste takes pride
humanity here despise
seeing the cruelty dies
of high caste females crucify
mercilessly their own gender
in the name of caste blunder
mutely supporting the plunder
of dalit women, who wonder
the silence of own gender
on the sight of femininity
in the board day light
paraded naked in their own vicinity
raped, ravished and trampled
no doubt upper caste femininity
is skin deep only
else they would have fought
for their feminine right
to live life free of fright
alas! they are caste blind
to see their mutual bind
feminists too are not so kind
to raise voice against the crime
awfully ignores humiliating death
suffered by dalit women daily
story of dalit women is grim
suffers discrimination all time
as a female and a lower caste being
though struggling through adversities
if succeed to come out of the rim
aristocrat high caste vultures deem
her hopes nothing but dream
ever preying on her virtuosity
that dominates their caste superiority
arising dalit women suffers subtly
high caste people discriminating policy
based on caste as well gender inferiority
where majority prays and swears by female deity
but treat dalit women mere commodity
nation egotist in its democracy
fails to notice caste discrepancy
dalit women should now be their own saviors
pursue the legacy of Savitribai Phule and Dr. Ambedkar
be educated, be united and agitate
Form:
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK! So I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine!
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause spooky hassle!
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceford Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by this thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords!
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before for the door had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
The earl felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "One Night in A Haunted Manor" Contest
(8 January 2019)
Paraded endlessly, this spectacle the Elephants know to be degrading,
And their counterparts from the sea , the Orcas, resist in captivity
By refusing to unfurl their proud dorsal fin, stings my eyes like a gnat
Lodged in my cortex, no amount of profit seems to dislodge.
Waking from my dream, I notice the old man waving to the crowd,
Gesturing wildly, as if warning of something no-one has yet seen.
Every evolution of Plybinium Quasar, the spectacle increases, with
Dogs leaping and biting at the air, and Neptunes, of disproportionate
Size, unable (or unwilling) to allow the pain to subside.
The viewing platform, constructed entirely of entitlements, teeters
Vicariously in the breeze, with the prominent attendees smiling, despite
Frostbite, inching up their extended promises.
Utilizing “light-track” technology, the time hoppers applaud
At pre-determined intervals, a strenuous exercise for sure,
Given the time restraints imposed by the counters in the Humbolt Quasar.
In this unfamiliar atmosphere, what clean air there is left to breathe
Smells pretty bad, like a cake frosted with sulfur.
01/10/11
9:46 pm
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