Long Parthenon Poems
Long Parthenon Poems. Below are the most popular long Parthenon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parthenon poems by poem length and keyword.
The grand, half-ruined Parthenon,
once a sublime, Doric grace,
Even now, in broken, stone blocks,
always takes my breath away.
The rich, classical detail,
fluted columns without plinths,
to imagine what it once was,
the mind can’t even begin…
That towering Coliseum,
the great masterpiece of Rome,
even half gone it’s staggering,
to be so tall, but made in stone.
Go down to the domed Pantheon,
still so perfect to this day,
these are not just random buildings,
they stand with something to say.
And those long, Gothic cathedrals,
so ornate and yet so light,
stained glass alone is enough
to make these churches a sight!
But all of that fine tracery,
those magnificent cravings,
the rows of flying buttresses,
inspire the soul to sing.
The Byzantines and their tiles,
Tudor masonry and wood,
Romanesque with its arches,
Art Decco looks oh-so-good,
Baroque with all its fussiness,
Victorians with their quirks,
Renaissance sports Italian flare,
Palladian’s subtle pleasures…
And yet in Albany, New York,
there stands the featureless ‘egg,’
That’s its name and its resemblance,
I am not pulling your leg.
No decoration, no windows,
as it stands there in the sun,
people call it ‘modernist,’
I call it ‘concrete abortion.’
Worse is the post-modern trash,
theaters shaped like hunks of cheese,
painted pink, spattered with portholes,
a mad-man’s monstrosity.
That is the product of our skills?
That is how we would inspire?
By building things that look like they
have been melted in a fire?!
They bulldoze down our heritage
to throw up more of these things?
And the big-wigs who approved this,
what the hell are you thinking?!
If these buildings of the future
are to have no beauty or class,
then you can keep ‘modernity,’
I’ll gladly live in the past.
Let me tell you of a journey- from The Parthenon to Paris
in the springtime - of which real year, no one knew
Riding on an ostrich guided by a gilded leather bridle
traveling back roads dressed in mysterious disguises
using signals only ostrich riders do.
The endurance of the ostrich was as equally surprising as
the smoothness of its gallop on the road.
It needed very little in the way of daily edibles
while the softness of its feathers made a very comfy saddle.
Now an ostrich made an eerie sight in swaying fields of daffodils.
Its three-pronged feet so admirable for climbing alpine hills.
It handled every mountain as well as any Hannibal
with eyes adept to guide a sleepy rider while he slept.
The gallop into Paris was singularly memorable –
No wildly cheering crowds of proud Parisians-no-one knew-
No showers of cherry blossoms sprinkled from the Eiffel Tower
in praise or celebration of this epic ostrich rider.
What evidence is there, then? What memory endures
Perhaps a photograph or witness tells the tale
If the novelty is forgotten and the mists of time have passed
Could fields of daffodils remember or perhaps the Cherry blossoms?
Once, I took some colleagues from a British university to the Acropolis for a tour of the Parthenon.
As I was explaining to my guests the history of the structure, I turned towards the ancient Agora (Market) below, and in a teasing mood, I told them:
" There is the Agora where Socrates was walking every day discussing matters of philosophy, so when you gentlemen pass onto the other side, you will have the chance to ask him questions that concern you!"
At that moment, the head of the Computer Department of that university, who had declared himself an atheist, turned towards me and asked:
" Do you, Demetrios, believe in the theory of the afterlife?"
" Most certainly I do!" With emphasis, I replied.
" Then, my friend, " My interlocutor continued, " you will be surprised."
" Why would I be surprised?" I asked.
" ...because there would be nothing of what you believe to be there." He explained.
" If things are as you say, my friend, it will not be me who will be surprised but you," I retorted with a smile.
" How come? " He asked with interest.
" Because, my friend, if your theory is correct and we do not go on living after death, I will not exist, therefore it will be impossible for me to be surprised, but if my theory is correct and our souls continue their existence after death you will be surprised, dear colleague, for though you expect nothing to be there after you depart from this life you will find out there is something after all," I explained.
My colleague listened with interest to my argument, and after I finished, he posed for a while and then turned towards me and declared:
" If you put it like this, Demetrios, I must admit, you are right." Then he burst out laughing, and the same did the rest of the professors there, and the echo of their laughter reached the Agora bellow and even the ears of Socrates in the heavens. *
© Demetrios Trifiatis
23 June 2018
*This Narration is a true story and comes after my little poem: "THE GREAT SURPRISE. " posted earlier today!
Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android
as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within
OKC 6/22
Krishna has an ink effect in our greater supplication, these days!
How come?
From when?
For quite a few days! Since I returned from Bangladesh.
It seems quite a hazard!
Are you in truce with your landlady?
That is another epic ! An enormous one !
Attuned harmony, cryptocurrency in scripted Java, and Architectural Parthenon, ding dong, in ping pong
And I simply pondered
Which trash can served the son
In serving chores for "Tapati" , the grandiose mentor?
O, Fix yourself, just look at you!
You are just an advertised face of Sandalina Sandal soap , these days!
Have you ever washed your holy month of Sha'ban,
of days bygone?
Or a pure "Miswak?"
How far are you? In your own mirror?
Till the recorded reels are disposed,
to the fullest extent!
An unknown rural tune is surmising in only fluke news
A floating trochaic, in enormous hypes!
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tapati
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sha%27ban
3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miswak
Oh, Parthenon,*
Sublime aesthetic structure,
Embodiment of unparalleled elegance,
Incarnation of history, philosophy, and sciences,
Everlasting beacon of human civilization,
Glorification of architecture,
Pride of the Western world
You, the deathless temple of Athena,
Undeniably, it reflects the harmonious blending:
Of matter with the form,
Of man with God,
Of the temporal with the eternal.
In you, one may easily discern:
The drama of Sophocles,
The wisdom of Socrates,
The reason of Plato, and
The logic of Aristotle incorporated
Into
The ageless white marble, that the
Everlasting mountain of Pendelikon so
Generously has offered
And
The skilled hands of Phidias and Ictinus,
So expertly have shaped, into a
Never-ending hymn of worldly beauty,
Ascending to the heavens of perfection
As a thanksgiving to the wisdom of the divine and as
A never-dying monument to human creativity and
Understanding
Oh, Parthenon, before your perpetual magnificence,
Humbly I bow!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
13 JANUARY 2013
*One of the crowning monuments of the world and, unquestionably,
one of the finest is the Parthenon, the ancient temple of Athena, daughter of
Zeus, Goddess of wisdom.
Built between 447 and 438 B.C. during the Archonship of Pericles on the most
prominent spot of the Acropolis- a rocky hill of 158 meters above sea level-
Parthenon has dominated since then with its extraordinary architectural splendor, not only in the land of Attica and the rest of Greece but also, one may say, the mind and the soul of the entire world!
Why An Imam with a mobile
is the last thing you will want
For today,
Has many reasons,
many more to come in days to come!
As your palm is already junk
in a once hopeful Palmetto Room
Stanza is an Italian Word. Synonym. Antonym. Room.
Unfolding world, Father in dreams.
The loudest caricature it can be
And I am never in it.
Magnanimity talks in a life in many single unique ways.
You will woe me there
You are allowed to kill me in my already damaged spirit, there
But never care to be a mentor, in any.
I simply gather them, one after another.
A saga of follicular tonsillitis, of another kind of story.
With your seasonal hype of remembering.
Why he is an obvious pro,
has many things to term in later version in Disney hypes
He is a pro. An avid one.
Just Like T-Mobile, Verizon, and every other mobile app sound in different servitudes,
in Qibla-Fatherhood
in
fixation of a possessive noun,
in finding chores for other-end-clan.
A little bit delayed flight
to find the other clan pro,
And know for sure
to be slave in need
Is a prominent slavery too,
The core- shift between
our Fard and Rizq is simply playing play-doh
And I am asking the magnificent Parthenon in me,.
How should I treat the greatest guest of all?
A once residual world, still beating in rhymes and reasons?
After a lonely breakfast, treating lunches or dinners?
Should there be the most special;
red colored bowls or glass particles in ambient grace?
Just as the Imam beforehand
Got entertained? Seducing Alcohol in slavery?
Should we ever really wake up, at all, for any?
In the shylock need in the magnificent Marchant of Venice talk?
Antonio, Bassanio and Portia and all kinds of junk,
labeled as potatoes...
And, if not potatoes, must be tomatoes only!
And honor thy need, and be thy soulful voice, as the bending need
It is humility indeed!
Sagas of Floating water, you simply need to be patient enough
To treat the nostrils that comes in pairs
Too much cold for an already slant poetry,
Fusing in truce and treaties!
Because of the holiday the Lourve was closed.
Mary was impressed with the French pastry
that tasted just as good as it looked.
Horrible coffee, good chocolate & delicious thick soups.
Beautiful clothes with prohibitive prices.
We boarded the Albert Express for Switzerland
with a bottle of wine and a big bag of pastries.
Take me back to Paris, I can’t stand the fresh air and healthy people of Switzerland
Arrived in Lucerne with time to enjoy the fountains in all the squares —
they were boarded up a couple days later.
Delicious cheese fondue, murals painted on the old houses,
a quaint town for William Tell, with his bow and barefooted boy.
A Train from The Alps to Venice.
Train to Florence, Hotel Majestic,
whole city is an art Gallery.
Michelangelo square, mosaic jewelry, leather goods.
Flores Hotel in Rome, Vatican, Parthenon.
St. Paul without the walls, St. Peters in chains,
Nightclub tour of the city, Old Appian way,
Capuchin Church with all the bones...
Long In The Tooth Skeptic,...
Nonetheless Rooted With Gumption
Implicit virtue of humankind
figuratively locked horns with vice,
yet time and again this mortal celibate,
(not by choice) sexagenarian thrice
older father of deux priceless young
women chock full, sans esprit de corps
exude radiant ump pa vital to add spice
to an otherwise humdrum life,
begat by reproductive cells
smaller than a grain of rice,
yet whose exultant bloom, ah price
less bouquet far superior to any
treasure discovered within Nice
joyous reunion (torturing
mine psyche) finally won
after a hiatus, where four
Earth orbitz around sun
when last these myopic eyes
graced with amazing run
day view earlier,
this April 15th, 2019 pun
gent, (cuz visit with Shana Punim) one
thousand four hundred and sixty days,
that seemed more like a hun
dread bajillion quotidian tomorrows,
where continually fading poignant memories
from countless fleeting yesterday's done
got hermetically sealed bun
dolled into an irretrievable past smart
teary eyed floaters restored to this "sir"
after death do me part,
where memorable times at playgrounds
analogous to envisioning glory, heart
ache, cloistered blessedness
synonymous, asper once regal Acropolis,
and/or Parthenon, wherein
antiquity never did depart,
cuz during 21st century smattering,
viz artifacts retained preserved art!
These days, actors and singers serve my catapult mayhem,
sometimes they are catalyst too!
I sing in between their lines of songs
their churned up recorded whims, hums, and candid cataracts!
And some days, whence things get screwed up
about a random psychotic feed back ,on a laminated free verse!
A day care and a festive color season!
Once small pox diagnosed ,
they let the sick baby get a safe mode, in an arranged detour reason, instead.
For a submission and a genuine submittal try!
On a humorous cover page , it calms down the wildest underneath rage, outcry!
Everything is clouded, intranet, inter too!
Nonetheless, a Fine arts diploma travels to the farthest east and swings to west,
they surely do!
To and fro round trip with a lonely estranged,
to Alaka and the random Parthenon
to cuddle Athena to wrap the scar, very own
before applying to have a trip to scar benign
Certainly,
We knew the translators' sage first,
Before originals tried to happen there, in a diaspora or wanderlust.
Please allow me a reason to try, anyway , anymore
before, they even try to be happy , at least mock or greet
and then eventually, troubleshoot for the love story ever after, special treat!
I am sorry, Joanna, on behalf of the survey-monkey!
You know me now. And the poem from the day care of Maxim Gorky!