Long Parallel Poems
Long Parallel Poems. Below are the most popular long Parallel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parallel poems by poem length and keyword.
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
History of the Star Spangle Banner
Maybe idea of Major George Armistead
The glory of Americans who scan her
Of Mary Pickersgill she was begat
The creation of the original flag
Be still a subject highly debated
Mary Pickersgill was not one to brag
Old Glory she made, beauty wind inflated
Armistead first requested it to be
A large garrison flag for reason
So the British have no trouble to see
Good to see our flag has flown in season
Fifteen colonies equal fifteen stars
Having eight red stripes and seven white stripes
Red and white stripes run in parallel bars
She flows in glory apart from other types
Rumor has it two glories were first made
For a small and a large Mary did charge
A document exists a bill was paid
Though small one be lost or is still at large
The varied small Star Spangled Banner
Never made it home to the Smithsonian
Would be nice to see displayed in some manner
In national museum the large is on loan!
For Contest Dazzle us with History
For Carolyn Devonshire and James Frazer
The History of the Real Star Spangled Banner
The creation of the original flag is still a debated subject.
However, the general story accepted by most historians is that Mary
Pickersgill was commissioned to make the flag by Major George Armistead
for $405.90. Following the victory at Fort McHenry, the flag was preserved
by Col. Armistead and it remained in the Armistead family. A smaller one
which was flown during the actual battle, and a larger one that was
flown as a replacement immediately after the British retreat.
This was a common wartime practice of the period.While no one
can say for sure what really happened, documents exist that show that
Mary Pickersgill was paid for two separate flags, a small one and
a larger one. If the smaller flag exists, its whereabouts are unknown.
In 1907, George Armistead’s grandson, Eben Appleton, expressed
interest in donating the flag to the state of Maryland or to the city of
Baltimore. After discussions with Maryland’s governor and the Mayor of
Baltimore, Appleton eventually placed the flag on loan to Smithsonian Institution
and it was displayed in the Hall of History at the National Museum of American
History. The loan was converted to a gift in 1912 and can still be
seen at the National Museum in Washington, D.C.
Seasonal sensational Love
These lovely eyes bracing the glimpse of Trees, Mountain,
And Rain in parallel, Falling in its pioneeringly expressive ways!!
Clutching my attention, Serene beauty stickered on my Heart,
Tantalizing with the rhythm of jazzy shake,
Rain pounded against my window!!
Ringing bells lighted the inner peace,
Mountains dwelled with the green nature band,
Paced off those lovely yards,
The garden green snippet filled my soul with the refreshed air!!
The sun rising across the bay,
Inter tranquillity fluorescenced my soul.
Praising vociferously with the theme of attitude towards life,
Around the globe wanted to face the Life's fate.
Ruby red sun tinged through the west,
Water falling through the Cleavage of the mountains!!
Rainbow flashing against my eyes like a mist in heavenly arcade.
Thumping night life on the bustling island amazed me!!
The white cotton sky,
Plugged in with vivid spectrum in depth!!
Immersed in deep ruby eyes of her,
Neither the constraints of latitude and longitude,
Just bouncing the sunshine forever!!
Bracing with rose gold moon in its arms with the twilighting stars,
Perked up with full of energy!!
Rejuvenated with full joy,
The strength of spark instigated my feelings towards you!!
Harmonious accord establishing the ceasefire,
By showering rain to melt the temperature of boiling sun!!
Opening the switches of my heart,
Stimulating the senses,
You will find desire of Love towards you!!
Melancholy rain, Cinerous sky,
Blazing eyes, Peasant walkaway!!
Just can’t forget You Honey,
Life has quite often solaced my eyes,
Glow of cotton rubbing socket of vision throughout years!!
Your eyes,
I love you baby!!
Your smile,
I like that way You come and cheers my heart blazing my soul!!
Baby just come in my life cleansing my broken heart,
Baby you come back please!!
And then only you will find the peck on the cheek!!
Staring in my direction,
You attracted me again, occupying the vacant space of my heart!!
Come again, please heal my heart!!
A casualty of a personality similarity, apparently,
though it's not apparent to me,
maybe in a parallel reality with unparalleled insanity.
My motto is true individuality breeds pure originality,
I hate monos I do but inconsistency prevents rhyme simplicity.
However, I endeavour to be quite clever,
and mix this rhyme with a talent that only said hello
and let itself be known when I sat all on my own
and met my lowest low and felt all was an unknown.
After I boycotted social events
and my siblings kept a distance
through a transition to clearance
and all was different but for my parents.
When I could of drank and walked around violent
or gone back to cannabis as a daily requirement,
but I vented in silence and sat and wrote a sentence
to then rhyme it in an instant and express a cruel incident,
all done with rational thought and I felt happy with the result.
I found a talent up my sleeve
better than what I ever believed,
assured by my second poem called "Believe",
13 months on there are 400 more to read.
I've covered a whole range of topics,
writes of stupid silly to writes of serious logic,
but lyrical writes enabled
a plastic Eminem wannabe label
as though I'm unable to be a creative individual,
and so slated for not being an original.
It seems that Trim Shady alias will stay with us
and I'll seem ridiculous but the influence
that became the fake appearance will see a disappearance,
I'm Nicholas or Trim I don't initial my title
I'm not trying to be like Marshall whom is unrivalled.
I'll do it my own way with individuality,
knowing that alter ego is the only reason you see a similarity,
but I'll make you see I'm a singularity,
a personality out to become a familiarity.
Though I've balanced my talents over a vast distance using
rhyme to reference these events it makes no difference to opinions,
yet I stay driven because I was influenced by Winston and his words to the wars winning.
Let's be clear Churchill caught my ear like Slim and I listened in awe to him when he said "Never Give In",
so if the world goes silent I'll start to sing,
if you attack me I'll whack you,
if you distract me I'll trap you,
if you perceive me as fake
I'll make you retract that statement with haste.
I'm evolution at play,
changing and adapting,
but I'll always do it my way.
Yes, our Creator's Love; this always comes and it goes between to good people and or thing, and in and between Him just as each uses this all; to remain faithfully helpful; to this effort of remaining lovesome for Him, and for one another, and for all life; or; possibly not. But oh yes; to share in this effort with a grateful and ever-gracious gusto!
Yes, fond are these memories running parallel with the truth, but to have loved, just once. Though I would want this again, our Creator in His Goodness, tells me not to worry. His goodness is with all of us on this journey.
Because my faith is hopeful and honest and so is fate.
Propitious the rondos' end-bold in their generous concatenation. Yes; frilly whirlwind June bugs caught up all about us flopping around in their daily dallying, teasing, and toying all around and again waylaying around way to way infinitely, have left me rather intrigued.
As the many shimmering Trout billowing up soaring about aloft and afoot each sometimes a foot and a half or two above the waters under the clear skies above us fall back down into the surface to try and catch them as the shadows floundering, and floating around ever gingerly, and ever-swiftly now all aloft within their effort to greet the Sun, and; the Son; cast their jest of all of this effort upon Jamie and me. Yes, and so in their haste to catch a little glips at a meal, out fly fishing under the full moon so bright a part of the glimmering stars with little Jamie now I have faith enough to know, with our Creator being in charge of all our blessings; and luck! One or two maybe three Trout they'll soon be in our buckets tied up hugging the shore there for breakfast.
But still and yet with no bait. To pick up one, then even several more a floating bug, to tie them up as the bugs themselves I know too now follow after a purpose. Yes, this would be to bring, a sweet, honeysuckle to the Trout; and to be as faithful give to all one a taste as fresh a Love Everlasting.
To live I would die to uphold them in their prominence, given the opportunity of this challenge. Because if it all is still a challenge for my faith to embrace the elements and apparent facts; knowing that fate always provides another opportunity; my faith is humbled. Because my faith I know today is as honest as what it follows after, now, here and hereafter.
Courtesy viz (g)natty Thrip Pest...
This client (Matthew Scott)
availed himself at behest
of following counselor
who bares his chest
to Stephanie Dodds
(maid 'n USA name)
taught technique to minimize
ruffling feathers lest
the missus aggrieved
spending her nest
egg, thus self and missus
live destitute oppressed
as two basket of deplorables stressed
nearly every day envisioning
castles in air pipe dreams
when getting undressed
preparatory to dreams
within illusory shut eye
yours truly dons fancy vest
believe me you sold by Kanye West.
DEAR MAN skills
(feeble attempt more daunting
versus scaling Mount Everest)
embraced with zest
supported and blessedly underwritten
by loan granted from Univest
Bank ohm my dog to mitigate electric
resistance while no resistance
against kool psychological aid acid test,
whereby this husband espoused,
to help him recharge, (re:volt if necessary)...,
which endeavor now poetically expressed
concerning contentious gripe(s),
she would concur challenges we contest
beat within mine (possibly her) breast
unavoidable series of parallel events
disallows me to experience respite
as ye correctly guessed
impossible mission until
death do me part heavenly blessed,
meanwhile to maximize insight woke
involving DEAR MAN skills
with following example I attest
triggered food for thought
countless years gone by, no jest
which behavior even
eldest daughter did detest
specifically oft time ebt -
Electronic benefit transfer
i.e. food stamp money addressed
when wife spent lion's share
in one fell swoop, I did level best
to communicate while pride
hide hid ingest, wife acquiesced
yet without fail repeated offense
whereby mister diplomacy here
explained (with diminishing patience)
allocated funds sole comestible expense
then included four family members
issue got heated more emphatically
groused at my sidelined request
invariably spiking discourse
else... I threatened to divest
and stow card in wallet (mine),
yet invariably relinquished said item,
perhaps first will and testament bequest
if imposed, enforced, adhered...
would have nipped in bud
finding yours truly less obsessed,
nee furious every month
the vicious drama cycled
smoldering resentment did crest
into shouting tense match,
thus body electric lamely fleshed.
I can never comply with fastidious hygiene
Try as thee most persuasive person might,
he/him, she/her,
they, them... can never wean
yours truly always objected
being told when to bathe/shower
particularly when puberty
found yours truly a tween
and my mother (deceased eighteen
plus years - sess her bowl),
she exerted authority
and told her "take a bath,
or no supper"
analogous to a queen,
strict disciplinarian to boot
who wedded her king
(my late father) at age nineteen
the latter (day saint) quite keen
nevertheless both experienced
love towards each other
and tricked out their progeny
(myself included) with halloween
getup, I vaguely recall Amelie Beth
(their eldest daughter -
older sister of mine)
donned as an angel
lighting up night sky, an empyrean
permanent heavenly fixture
popular through Byzantine
epoch, which blinded
her brother (me),
cuz yours truly, the devil in disguise.
Here I sit scores of decades
now edging closer to the edge of night,
and approaching those twilight years
remembering protesting vehemently
(way past the bewitching hour)
not wanting to wash myself
in the tub (water frigid cold), I write
how mother dearest,
whose presence I wanted to smite
this puny progeny
grappling as a neophyte
whose Lilliputian stature
(when a prepubescent)
a over five feet in height
who when constantly
teased courtesy bullies
ran back to ma mommy
whose son totally affright.
If employed in social services field, why
the above might justifiably
smack of insubordination
hashtagging me as Pigpen thereby
wharf fare prompting me
to cleanse myself diving off a Quai
in an effort for Peanuts gallery
to accept yours truly well nigh
but unfortunately
getting mistakenly captured
as a prisoner of war
forced by Japanese to construct
two parallel bridges spanning
the river Kwai
as part of Burma Railway,
also called the Death Railway,
for the many lives
lost in its construction,
but my daring do,
(and boyish good looks)
found yours truly
whisked away to the island of Hawaii,
where hula dancers
choreographed, entranced, and finessed
their seductive routines
a native lass smitten courtesy
one wily word wizard
whose courage bucked up
after munching powder milk biscuits
taken as mistress
helped beget our daughter,
who became apple of mine eye.
Under the delicate veil of reality, unseen worlds weave webs of mystery,
There, beneath the clear surface, lie extinguished universes, full of hidden stories.
I floated like a child in a dream, feeling the call of these distant realms,
With no proof in hand, just a deep premonition that magic and mystery walk hand in hand.
In the blue sky and the scent of flowers, there are mirrors of hidden goodness,
But in the same breath mingles a wild force, a pain that kisses the edge of being.
Every petal that unfolds under the sun hides a shadow of old, forgotten times,
A dance of secret degradation, painting the world in hues of melancholy.
Under the starry mantle of enchanted nights, when the stars pour into unknown waters,
We feel the echo of another existence, a deep murmur that disturbs our peace.
And thus, in every blooming flower, in every dream that takes flight,
Light and darkness mix, writing an unwritten story of an unseen destiny.
Our lives are symptoms of an ancient spell, a dance of shadows and light,
Where beauty and suffering entwine in a world of shimmering metaphors.
We are but travelers through these constellations hidden beneath the daily venom,
Wandering through worlds of curves and extinguished fires, seeking a revived dawn.
Our eyes are gates to those parallel universes,
Where every moment of joy is shadowed by a tear of eternity.
We are born from stars, but carry within us the ashes of extinguished galaxies,
And in the infinite waltz, we laugh and cry, gathering star memories in unknown hearts.
So, when we gaze at the sky, the blooming, and hear the silence of enchanted nights,
Let us know that beneath every heartbeat lies a flicker of unseen sadness,
That beauty and pain are two mirrored skies,
And only by accepting this dual symphony can we understand the deep magic of life.
In temples forgotten by time, in rivers singing old ballads,
We find echoes of those deep realms, where light and shadow dance together,
And thus, in every moment of life, in every childhood dream,
We learn that magic hides precisely in this ethereal duality.
Let us live, then, with hearts open to both beauty and pain,
To seek those secret worlds beyond the daily veil,
And to breathe their magic, letting our hearts sing,
Even when the echoes of pain whisper their old secrets under enchanted skies.
After all is said and done, cliché style
(Forgive me if this does not rhyme, I'm moving
Past rhyme for the sake of rhyme)
You will have gone away rich and returned for more
Because you thought you knew what you needed
To feel loaded, fulfilled and needed
You thought you knew your needs
And had articulated and defined them to a tee
You knew all the similes that ran parallel to your feelings
But those were nothing more than thoughts
Which is why a mind is such a terrible thing to have
You thought
You knew the right ingredients for happiness
Just the right mix
To make laughter and an electrifying smile
A happy ever after which, you thought
Existed in cash and came contained
In bags of gold marked with silver linings
which you carried a thousand miles
Only to end up clutching a plastic smile
Because all the nonsense you collected turned out
To have a mind of its own
So, you met yourself returning from that place and thinking
Was I better off before I became better off
Or did I believe a lie? Of course, you were drunk then
And you certainly are drunk now
Except you have no idea what it is. You're in the dark like me
And even now I hear a chorus of ayes and nays
And someone letting out a wry laugh and shouting amen
Because the bottom line is this; this will resonate
Even if it doesn't. I will let you be the judge of that
Folks trying to nod and shake their heads at the same time
Take it easy people, this is exactly what you think it is
Name it what you will. If the cap fits, I suggest you wear it
And so, cliché style, you returned
To the place from which you had returned
Because enough was not enough. You wanted more
But needed less of more and more of less
And fortunately, or unfortunately, about this you were clueless
All that glittered was just a bag full of humus
And once you admitted this to yourself a new light shone
And you wondered how come you'd missed this all along
But couldn't dwell on that because you had better things to do
In the end you gave away all the matters that had mattered
And in half breaths cursed and muttered
Words and phrases too precious to repeat in this space
In the end you were richer without the riches
And much more comfortable without the restraining breeches
From a society that had always wanted to define and control your mind
Listen my children
and you shall hear
of the midnight ride
speeding greed will steer.
Just as our cooperative economy
is fueled by gratitude,
our competitive WinLose economy
is fueled by greed.
Other parallel points of contrast
ecologically and logically follow
in their own sweet and sour time.
Cooperative industry,
business
tribes
governments
systems and networks
enjoy organically limited slow-growth
in comparison
to capitalism and elitism and egotism
fast-growth
toward insufficiency of Earth's carrying capacity,
and Yang-dominant WinLose evolutionary enculturation
of Yang-Yin divisive survival stories--
Mom and Dad never could get along--
secularly supplanting sacred
Yin/Yang health/wealth thrival stories
of slow Paradise
revolving seasonally appropriate deep-ecological development,
listening to both redevelopment Left
and reverting-reverse-time decompositional analysis Right
of restoring nutritional-slow
and toxic-fast
health trends.
Further,
and don't fall asleep yet,
we're just getting to the best part,
slow grown cooperatives toward abundance
are dominated by matriarchal/patriarchal integrity stories
more than fast-paced
overshooting patriarchal Westerns with shot gun dissonance,
the chaos of believing and teaching
that justice is what comes out of the end of a rifle association,
incommensurability of values
across economically healthy corporations
as also ecologically wealthy organic-flowing incorporations,
both born of FatherSun
deductive LeftBrain enlightenment
and MotherEarth
inductive RightBrain polyphonic feelings
of color and sound
music and dance
in octave-fractal
slow-growth marches
toward salt marshes
predicting oceans
of YangLight
slow-breeding Yin-tides of revolution.
Matriarchy,
where what is embedded deepest
is also ethically and aesthetically highest
richest
healthiest.
Listen my children
and you shall hear
of the midnight ride
speeding greed will *****.
And everyone died alone unhappily ever after
as before.