Long Period Poems
Long Period Poems. Below are the most popular long Period by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Period poems by poem length and keyword.
The bay and titian milestone
calls the universe
On everything we have to remember
2019 we met in joy
Raw in our hearts
We gathered in love
Humble without pride
We spoke in a voice
They called us golden ones
Oh yes! Golden ones.
After the last quarter
A strange duster appeared
And erased Gift out of the list
Many emotions were bitter
Just like me
That pended the elite Supper
Chronically, we arrived 2020
Which showed advances on arrival
The stretching chain started breaking
Everyone chose the birds they flocked with
Classic pride developed its wig
From the humble hearts
Everyone real colour start revealing
Like the rising sun in the morn.
Just a sudden
The world was attacked by Emperor'19
Everywhere was shut,
Everyone's lovers were distanced
Nations dropped like flies
Love, value and unity quenched
New fishes entered the friendship oceans of our comrades
In the pandemic period we experienced.
In 2021 we met again as earlier as expected
As there were different faces, such were different shoulders.
Everyone focused on its target
The class attendance dropped like a weighless scale.
Many break, many strike
Affect the 2021 journey.
Just like a flowing stream
The heaven sea journey to the left side
Gave the picture of the sun
Traveling from the North to West.
Days in, days out
There was not a single day without a memory
As we all gathered for the new 2022.
2022 was the year of planting fame
Many people worked to be recognized
The birds changed their groups
Everyone humbled again
Trying to move up a bit
As the result of the shock
From the previous exams.
'Just like yesterday
'I was a fresher
'Today I am an FYB'
That was everyone's comment
When we met ourselves
In the final level of the journey
In the 2022 summer months.
Despite the four years journey's metamorphosed
Into five years journey with hard stress
Joy crowned our hearts because everything is closer
We accepted to involve in the final stress
That has a short time
But so dismal, Lilly fell from the train
Almost at the bus stop.
Now on our table
We cheers to the love that we have got
Toast to the one that we lost on the way
The toast goes to every able that can read this;
And remember the memories we've been through
Which the bay and titian milestone
Has called us to remember.
‘Ossi’, what Western side likes them to call,
East returning complements with ‘pushy’,
No more stands there the brick-and-mortar wall,
Love’s lost still in old animosity.
The wall o’er a decade and half back fell,
Yet, an iron curtain still them divide,
Minds cannot meet over the wall of pride,
Hurt heart and prejudice can’t that gulf scale.
‘I’d rather a spouse from a foreign shore
‘Bring than one from behind iron curtain,’
Felt one from across the long secured door,
Deep and wide does divide decades of pain.
Here lingers a dislike, there disdain old,
What venom brethren nurse for each other!
An open war has turned into one cold,
Togetherness in search of fair tether!
‘Too hot’ for us these women from the West,
‘Hard to please, pushy, far too material,
‘Everything about them seems commercial,
‘From old world do we come and too modest’.
‘Too darn dense be these people from the East,
‘Lacking any a style whatsoever,
‘Forever on a bargain-hunting heist,
‘Let them savour their old odious flavour’.
Wall was felled to enable two-way flow,
Heads still finds it hard to communicate,
Bridges and trains, mutual dialogue to grow,
Yet, hard it is distanced hearts to placate.
Love and passion when at a premium come
In too short a period of years fifteen,
Old prejudices play a harder drum,
Not easy 'tis long-closed closets to clean.
World has its Kashmir, long-gulfed Koreas too,
And torn-apart people elsewhere a few,
A healer great, mighty teacher is time,
If not today, morrows may sing in rhyme.
______________________________________________________
The Berlin Wall came down some 15 years back on 9th November1989. But the iron curtain continues to divide the two people that history separated. Only two per cent of marriages every year are between the East and the West Berliners, which under normal conditions should have brought together one-third to half of the couples in a city its size. Yet, they are 12 times more likely to marry foreigners. After the wall fell, there came the euphoria only to die soon. A lingering dislike persists between the two sides. Yet, in all fairness 15 years is too short a period to mitigate the wounds inflicted by 60 years of separation. Time, let us hope, will prove a great healer that it is.
______________________________________________________
Happenings | 01.11.04 |
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight
Over the 2000 year period since the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, thousands of people have toured the 'Holy Sights' in Jerusalem and The Holy Land. One of those sights is a garden known as Gethsemane at the foot of or near the Mt. of Olives. However, the exact location of Gethsemane is not clearly known.*
The title question and theme is really not intended to be a search for the literal garden called Gethsemane, but rather the identity and whereabouts of our spiritual Gethsemene. We are not looking to locate the physical Gethsemane but rather to experience an encounter with God. The trip by Jesus and his apostles was taken rather often, but Let's imagine ourselves in the background looking in on the night that Jesus went into the Garden of Gethsemane accompanied by 11 of his 12 apostles. On that night, we would have clearly seen Gethsemane as:
A place of SANCTUARY where we seek stillness, peace, and quiet
A place of PRAYER where we meet with God and converse with Him
A place of WAITING where we obey His orders and move at His commands
A place of SLEEPING. Sleeping is not the purpose here and should be avoided
A place of TEMPTATION. "Pray, that you do not enter into temptation"
A place of SWEATING. Prayer is 'not a day in the park' but 'an engagement of warriors'. A place of AGONY and WARFARE where we engage, fight, endure, and never quit. A place of SERENITY. God gives us a 'free will' and asks us to 'surrender it freely'.
04052019PoSoupContest, Favorite Poem From Last Week (March 31-April 6, 2019) Poetry Contest, Lu Loo; Original Title, Where Is Gethsemane
*Wycliffe Bible Encyclopedia, "Gethsemane",p.675, 1975, ISBN 0-8024-9697-0 There are four[6] locations claimed to be the place where Jesus prayed on the night he was betrayed.
1. The Church of All Nations overlooking a garden with the "Rock of the Agony". 2. The location near the Tomb of the Virgin Mary to the north. 3. The Greek Orthodox location to the east. 4. The Russian Orthodox orchard, next to the Church of Maria Magdalene.
Modern scholarship acknowledges that the exact location of Gethsemane is unknown
Not a period
maybe a comma -
Why illness,
why suffering,
why injustice -
I light a candle
for care and love
Let the light
shine
like dawn
Give us strength
and hope -
In faith and trust
Nothing is impossible
by God -
The Lord's promise -
Oh God, hear our prayer
Amen
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01/12/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
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.
Do you sometimes wonder
how to introduce what is out there to your soul and mind?
how to understand that which exists, in that period of time?
and in that present moment is real, and do you feel guilty if you leave it all behind?
Have you heard that your ego will prevent you
from being who you were meant to be?
And you get absorbed in society’s creations
but you find yourself confused, and unable to see.
And you might search the news
looking for those reads that will reaffirm what’s on your mind.
And you “stumble upon” absurd conspiracy theories
which you “miraculously” find.
Can you somehow see a reflection of who you are?
Or is the mirror broken, left far behind?
Can you ask yourself, honestly, sincerely, what the solution is for human kind?
Or do you get lost within the scope of your very own personal mind?
And as you sit there
do you blame others while looking for a system that creates the hurt?
Deep down you know the answer
it’s selfishness, hatred, power, and greed, which continue to subvert.
What is real and what is fake?
I often wonder what is true.
Yes I listen and I analyze
I use up a portion of my time to see it from a particular point of view.
For now I want to spend my time
searching within my soul for something that I’m unable in this world to find
which baffles me some of the time
because occasionally it’s born and exists deep within my very own mind.
I’m just a being, living and trying to be that which I foresee
searching for the spiritual in that which is before me
at times attempting to find meaning in mortality
with a burning desire to understand and see.
It is contentment which I pursue
Even look inside the cracks
But at times like these contentment hides
and the road ahead confuses me, so I retrace, as I retract.
Maybe I got it all wrong
Maybe some of it is right
Maybe my vision is blurry and foggy
Maybe at times I have trouble seeing the light.
I can take what is happening out there
interpret using knowledge, a view, and perhaps a belief
but often the truth is just not there, and the news really stinks as it permeates
and the nature of the many, rarely offer one relief.
And I’m left with the choice to accept, dissolve, or set it all aside
using my soul and my very own mind.
And after attempting to understand
I ultimately, usually, leave it all behind.
Form:
Tell all the worlds about the treasures found
Renaissance trace spellbound in the ancient form,
Tender and haunting; an era of time curves around
Past the present to a future beset with tech charm.
Historical pages cling romantically to our eyes,
Each epoch defines a sparkling gem of surprise,
Their fluttered rebirth is like stars changing sizes
Release by time flown from the damp demise.
That dip their limbs to bow unto gloss modernity
Like the artist and sculpture, they paint a world.
Of aesthetic peculiarities and lofty discovery,
Longing to find a place soaring free in the soul.
A vault of citadels says much; then said no more
Deep within, ancient wonders rise from the ashes
Talented beauty weaves from centuries we adore,
The time and place asleep in a waste wilderness.
The plague of colors survives in medieval triumph,
England, a literary monument of architect literature.
Finds the noble heart to express cherished breath
Creating the etiquette claimed by French culture.
Such dept alone could not be paid by metamorphism
Humanism fading in a mist has its place in society,
Heightened with extreme lust and erotic mannerism,
Italy removes the conscious veil from bizarre reality.
Ceiling significant through music strings serenade,
Renaissance dazed; allusion lay dreaming half awake
The inquisition of fate went on pilgrimage made,
German sentence commute through the classical gate.
The Netherlands explore and navigate all the distances
Byzantine adherence goes beyond impregnable walls,
depict faces of the Tsars persist in the military hypothesis,
And labyrinths take refuge in Russian banqueting halls.
The richest measured proportion of distilled beverage,
Vodka values more than all the dull limited senses,
Spanish religion repository of the myths and rage
Set the path where new western experience commences.
Portugal selfie, the pinnacle piece that thirsts for commerce
Lisbon flourished paints and medicines with Flemish.
Poland concept and conflict gain border land dominance,
Spice trade rises high and makes indiscreet allusion flourish.
We travel far beyond renaissance to the greatest monument,
When the transition of culture from the middle age evolved
Mesmerized art is a rediscovery of an enduring cultural movement,
The monarch of the Roman Empire renaissance man inspired.
Dumbfoundedness still prevails three weeks later...
when held spellbound courtesy grifter
Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;
Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.
Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.
Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.
No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.
Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.
Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
What is this world really about?
I can listen to the President and still not understand a word out of his mouth,
Is he for the American people or is he only in office to institute wars,
He captured Saddam so I guess for his father he has settled all the scores.
But look at our nation right now; we’re still suffering from poverty,
Why not show our kids in the ghettos something else wonderful to see,
Let’s do away with the crimes and take the guns off the streets,
This would be my main topic for when the President and I come to meet!
“Dear Sir, how are you doing my name is Curtis and I’m a tax paying citizen,”
It seems like you’re glorifying your capture of Saddam but this war we didn’t win,
We have soldiers in Iraq dying for absolutely no reason,
And if they abandon your Father’s war you’ll hold them for treason!
Saddam was said to possess weapons of mass destruction,
I think an impeachment is call for before you lead us into corruption,
In 2005 I think Florida’s voting poles shouldn’t be mention,
And by the end of 2005 voting, George Bush Jr. should be awaiting his pension!
I have spoken about one of the problems in our society so I should assail another,
This cry for awareness goes out to my fellow black brothers,
We are caught up in Babylon’s system with all our material items,
Sean John puts out hundred dollars sweat suits and we’ll rush out to buy them.
Big Tymers wear these icy chains and we label them as stars,
While young black men sees this as truly living while locked up behind bars,
We have been brainwash and told that this was the way to be living,
I don’t believe in those views because my state of mind is to be giving.
I was born into this world with a little weak mind,
It was easily corrupted that it directed me to a short period of crime,
But a wise man came into my life and showed me the right way,
He’s in Heaven now but I still bout my head to him every night when I pray!
In time of dismay I know he’ll always be by my side,
And I thank you again Tennyson for teaching me to keep my pride,
At the beginning of this poem I asked, “What is this world really about?”
So everyone take a look at yourselves and tell me who’s the real sell out?
“Even in a world of weeds a Rose can still be form”
Form: