Long Perforce Poems
Long Perforce Poems. Below are the most popular long Perforce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Perforce poems by poem length and keyword.
I peer quite nervously about,
to wonder at the goings on,
how much of what is said,
is speculation on my part,
and how this dwelling rose,
from a clouded past milieu,
tales of the apocryphal I’d guess,
imagination stirred off course,
uncanny gothic motto purblind,
blue ink mist curtain veil stoke,
vivid mind’s black night visual,
amulet of congested fantasy,
macabre plot on the strain,
what surreal restlessness within,
dormant interregnum cast,
yet one seems drawn toward,
that dim lit swirling sight,
nest for midnight dervish,
and other brazen species,
dare I enter from afar,
perforce I court danger,
when nosey to a fault,
but therein lies the trap,
to be fascinated is one thing,
to stray beyond another,
why would one be so tempted,
by an entity with dark omens,
superstition is a term used,
to smear that which is unknown,
it is however justified,
when carefully used methinks,
a shrouded raven perched,
stoic, solemn sage as sentry,
ravens circulating chimney top,
symbolic ghost appearing numb,
somehow I cannot summon,
pluck up that innate gumption,
to confront a crippling fear,
before it duly swallows me,
now I feel driven without rein,
zany impulse at the whelm,
enigmatic pathway underfoot,
reluctant step a heavy booth lurch,
shattered eaves, torn leaves,
giant concrete slab tumble,
frail broken window smithereened,
taut ghoulish splinters glisten,
I dash against elemental angst,
when peeping warily into the void
Aye pride myself
being sui generis
verb hose subject for a zoologist,
cuz webbed phalanges
branch handsomely
from mine feet and wrist,
where perforce great expectations,
asper the next greatest (I SCREAM)
scoop of the month intimated,
conducted under top secret
controlled laboratory conditions
with yours truly (as the de facto
par excellence)
rodent named "Oliver twist"
Lady Dedlock key ping
watchful eye within bleak house,
while Thomas Gradgrind
feigns tubby bad company
during these hard times
temporarily all quietest
lull on the western front
since Donald Trump
detente foretold by a palmist,
whereby said President
of the United States
feeling as an optimist
met with Kim Jong-un,
(cautiously side stepping morass,
viz hit blind side dare devil hoodwinking,
via awe shucks faux bully)
suspending noninterventionist
impact unexpectedly witnessed leader
of North Korea as multilateralist
on historic June 12, 2018,
summit minus linguist,
where fist pumping in Singapore
for unilateral negotiations
offloading nationalism
weighing down
figurative chest i.e. kist
by resplendent sun, where ma lounge
sotto voce, somber solemnly
sober ensemble re: joist
uniting this stately isolationist,
whose approximate
ten stone heft easy to hoist
merely sustains purposelessness
this poem without a gist
hence if Yukon spare one
(or more cruxes) lemme be fist
in line, though first, aye
would need to convince thee
this scribe doth exist!
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth", I question.
Research on this ancient proverb, of course
finally brought me to this aged suggestion:
"the longer its teeth, the older the horse."
Remembering a blue-chip London bus trip
we took a journey to T-Square perforce.
There upon the fourth plinth, we dared not to skip
the stellar sculpture called Hans Haacke's "Gift Horse."
Borrowing from equine pictures drawn by George Stubbs,
Fulfillment for posterity, Hans' ace of clubs.
Readily, H. Haacke now spins a skeleton
which features a ribbon of ticker tape
from the London's Stock Exchange's latest run.
Money and power set in a new shape.
But recently, fate has behooved to remove
this sculpture to Chicago's latitutde.
Proverb's warning: Looking at its teeth for proof,
you slay a gift horse with ingratitude.
August 19, 2019
https://www.artic.edu/exhibitions/8944/hans-haacke-gift-horse
Sponsor Robert James Liguori
Contest Name A Notable Horse
She kept her scent in the refrigerator
off and on upon the rack of Chenin Blanc,
or, in the door, with grey poupon and sour milk
where it, perforce, would topple upon the floor
when opened with any gentle, manly force.
At times, it would be lost among the yellow
golden citrus within the crisper drawer
or, it lurked, disguised behind an OJ carton
pretending to be a jar of marmalade:
so way, way beyond the ken of him to find.
And yet, with her, a flick of the door, a spritz
of Jasmine, gardenia, basil, orange, peach,
which pursued the flowing silken scarves she wore.
“Come, let’s go, we have a party to attend.”
She’d say, “What are you staring at, my sweetie?”
Just an empty perfume bottle, by the milk.
ISALE EKO (LAGOS)
A rooster of discrete tongues
Culture, tradition
Where,
Zillion specters resonate
Quantum croak.
Cock crow,
Erupts whirl, barge at Alaba
Descry of sea of soul cases
Kibbling in, out as Emmet over nectar,
As husky ell of murk drench dawning,
Eviscerate NEPA's spasmodic spitfire
To stupor, obloquy.
The hindmost geezer nestling,
Drenched in diaphoresis of animation of dog days
Eludes unforgiving hail of bug blitz,
Hallowed howl of ole! ole!
Arched in his decrepit nest
Deploys a taper
Until,
Sunup deflowers night jaded sockets
As,
Resonance of one more Naira
To breast billion mark
Percase, perforce, precipitating
The epogee in mores
Rummages his cranium:
Top dog never capitulates
Vanquish countermands blossom
In kernel of hovel, wreck, quagmire
From mainlands of Iddo,
Bog of Badagry
To Favela of Ijora, Ilasamaja
Colonize the cocoon
Which,
Burgeoned Whiz Kid, Davido and Nollywood
Confuting phantasm
That,
Golden fleece
Is muted in the jaws of no man's land.
A colossus who never unwinds
No arrears in innuendos
Paris is your headrest
Rio de Janeiro your ottoman!
While slurping my coffee I watched the weather guy this morning,
When suddenly on the television screen there appeared this blatant warning!
"THIS IS A TRAVEL ADVISORY AND YOU SHOULD TAKE ALL PRECAUTION;
THE ROADS ARE SNOWY AND YOU'D BE WISE TO HEED THIS CAUTION!"
The man read a list of emergency travel items that would be needed,
And warned that you were taking a serious risk if his advice went unheeded!
He included blankets, a sleeping bag and extra clothes on his list,
And battery booster cables in the event you needed an assist.
Road flares and reflective triangles he said should be kept handy,
And for those so inclined he recommended including a jug of brandy!
You must carry a can of gas should your automobile tank run dry.
A bucket of sand and bag of salt is needed for those slick roads to apply.
Twenty-four hours worth of grub should be available for consumption,
And you'll carry your cell phone with you if you have any gumption!
You'll require a shovel and flashlight with spare batteries of course.
The cops might require tire chains if conditions merit, perforce.
I strapped all that stuff on my back thinking this is so absurd,
But he said I needed it for travel so I took him at his word.
I thought I could travel to my job downtown with a minimum of fuss,
But for some reason others avoided me as I boarded the metro bus!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Oh nose of the Most High
Covering the globe from the sky
Smelling troubles to unfold sigh
And fill this world with cautions
You gave to us our spiritual auctions
To be the best we can cum precautions
Your nose don't teach heart off pity
Or condemn man's acts so ty
But allows redemption really gritty
Your nose withstand our sin
Under born again, we all grin
Our new life is even yet to begin
Though You were only building Your kingdom
If all end in hell, heaven won't lack blossom
Though satan could tell You he had more wisdom
Than any existing one ever lived
But his tricks You already outlived
Truly, You appreciate us; being relieved
You encourage us and love all
Even walking with You, we crawl
Yet You raise us up to Your call
Your nose smells us-- living deads
Feeding us has been not only with breads
But also fishes for those always on their beds
I wish I could make my nose smell like You
The errors in trials traveling in the blue
And the time fulfilment awaits to come true
When truth will no longer dine with lies
I wish I could smell Earth's fall and heaven's rise
How every mortal meets simple demise
I would have treasured every second
And kept it in my chest box so reckoned
By no other than my mind be beckoned
You Smell the cross
You sneeze and mourn Thy loss
To energize us drive sins away perforce
You Smell the great sacrifice
And cast away Thy eyes to paradise
How cheap it becomes more suffice
But You smell sacrifices I made
In the face of sin yet not afraid
Of the Lord's sacrifice life and death trade
You Smell every nook and cranny
You know when I have been sins nanny
Taking order from Eve its granny
Gloria Dubbins - not much of a name,
but trust me on my judgment, gentle reader;
in terms of Beauty, she was Hall of Fame.
We’re talking – let’s see – nineteen seventy-two,
but I’m the keeper of the Gloria Flame,
and still to me she’s better, and more true,
than all your Taylor Swifts or Amber Heards.
She did the things that gorgeous women do -
in essence, nothing. Gloria had no words.
Intelligence? Commitment? Are you kidding?
For babes, that stuff is strictly for the birds.
She sat immobile and observed the bidding.
I’ll tell you this, but won’t apportion blame.
You, too, would be as motionless as cedar
if you’d been dealt her hand, to play The Game.
She’s not the kind you wound up talking to.
Her presence smote you with a sort of shame:
she struck you dumb: the words would not come through.
And Gloria didn’t gravitate to herds.
Perforce, she rowed her own sublime canoe.
Her beauty left her friendless, like the Kurds.
What was her view of Comus? Little Gidding?
I don’t have – no, I never had – a clue.
Enigma fits her. Easily two-thirds
of all the girls acknowledged her as leader,
but oddly she was Nothing Like A Dame.
I.
O Bacchanalia! O wild Mania,
what be this ecstatic spirit of God!?
To be transported grants Arcadia:
but this awareness, this sense, feels so odd.
O thou soul! What mad symmetry of thought!
This sudden, unbidden, psychic climax
of the mind captivates with raptured thrill.
Calliope! thou hast me overwrought:
whence sing this manic grammar and syntax,
this wondrous expression that melts doom's chill?
II.
Thou rhapsody! Thou monumental bliss!
What euphoria overwhelms the brain?
With eloquent Calliope's moist kiss,
thrilled ravishment uplifts the head's domain.
O Joy! Pure, pure Joy! Intense happiness,
with rapture mingled, revives the psyche
with radiant delusion of the mind;
then glee that transcends desire to express,
like supernatural being whose frenzy
all at once overpowers, strikes me blind!
III.
Erelong the psyche is madly distress'd,
for the diseased become wildly deranged
by dire imbalance of the brain! Oppress'd,
with bipolar Mania unestranged,
I wane with her vanishing servitude;
for in her wake she leaves a deadly unrest,
which perforce enjoin the pallid mortician.
For mental psychosis damns the unblest:
but with souls (where with angels devils feud)
God operates as the Divine Physician.
I have too much sense to have too much sense
or should as enough sense is enough sense,
quite enough perforce because the strings
of pure logic invite a wide
and open-hearted composition,
or always should as common sense to excess
could mean a lack of comic mirth
which is really quite inane because
our periodic folly,
mine and indeed the world around us
as human beings, adds lustre to one’s life
and the lives of others we encounter on and off.
One's frequent social circle notwithstanding
Those little eccentricities that stray into the
luscious meadows of magic mishap that spread joy,
that most magnificent contagion,
the universal crying requisite whose absence
connotes a risible dull void.
Posted ; 12th May 2022