Long Peripatetic Poems
Long Peripatetic Poems. Below are the most popular long Peripatetic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peripatetic poems by poem length and keyword.
There comes a time,
in the early, but
not so early, morn
when, and this is key,
if a portion of an instant
rationed a morsel of a moment -
but a crumb of that fell free
and it cast a deep shadow
whose depths made mockeries
of spelunk;
which you may remember
you'd dreamt of in some past
life and, if from this minusculity
sprang, the littlest offspring,
a hint of a glance of,
a coup d'oeil
the last of day,
the half-remembered,
prior life
when, if you glimpse
the newborn gold,
your heart'll still,
your mind'll still
and yes, your stillness
be distilled into
stiller still
if your heart and eyes
don't again conspire
to draw your mind
to your routine
of first and, perhaps
only, taking in the
most of things
the highlights and the
canopy's myriad meanderings
the rootings at their footings
supposed but rarely seen
in dark, in secret but
carrying no wrong
rather though
in the tree trunks'
simple middle
for a briefest, gilted
eternity, the trees
will burn not from
their crown
nor from their feet
and, despite the ice,
the sparkless space,
the cold steel
darts of insistent
slanting rains,
the trees will burn,
the trees will burn,
and all-at-once
the peripatetic sun,
its whims having won,
will dance along
and share its breath
with everyone
We all have inner and outer lives.
They’re messy, hopelessly intertwined, and more
than mere mannequins to hang our word-art upon.
I’m supported, in my unwritten life, by a structure
of moods, both affine and counter-expressive. I’m,
in turns, a tightly wound vagabond, an over-busy,
fretful, unhappy liar (for what I will not share) and
a happy, truthful mess (for what I may overshare).
My outer-life is largely academic, and turned with
complete absorption to task, I plow thru the
needed assignments, like a caffeine fueled machine,
You might rightly call outer-me boring. I get it, for
nothing much happens beyond study and life’s
usual maintenances.
But my inner-life is full of action, if desires,
dreams, and internally ranting against the injustices
of youthful separations can be rightly called actions.
Of my boyfriend, the world contains not one parallel.
He overshadows the few others I’ve ever known.
His masculine elements turn me all the way up,
He knows my petty vanities and most of my weaknesses.
If he doesn’t know my every phase of feeling, or every desire
of my love starved soul, it’s because our love is peripatetic.
Most of the year, we’re a long distance, digital, practical nothingness, A near autofictional anticipation. We are separated by a sea and more. If I may simply put it, I have a fine young body that is going to waste.
When I complained to my older sister, a surgeon who long delayed her own personal life for her career, she shruggingly and unsympathetically said,
“You only have to suffer a few more years.”
“Oh, mon Dieu!” I replied.
.
.
Alabama Song by Ralph Schuckett & Richard Butler
positions by Ariana Grande [E]
34+35 (Remix) by [feat. Doja Cat & Megan Thee Stallion] [E]
a
taxonomical
neo-geo
connoisseur
moves on again
to
a totemic
astonishment
of many
yet
stifling
in every sense
&
in it all
prosaic
inspiration
poetically described
as
dystopian reimaginings
of flotsam
a natural
detritus
embedded
yet
not belonging
littered with empty
kitsch
inlaid with
a peripatetic
identity
&
linguistic
incomprehensiblity
a
perfected
undertaking
before
disillusionment
was growing
into
an insular
mutely
societal moment
a
tormented
self-portrait
to
reflect
the days
but instead
depicted
a recognition
of
largely passing
decades
hoisted
&
seared
in
a
retrospective
survey
September 12th, 2019...12:00 p.m.
inspection/ emission finally possible
but...hopes dashed to smithereens
August thirty first
two thousand nineteen shortly past,
no matter 2009 Hyundai Sonata at long last
scheduled with ample funds
checking account blitzed
now back home
(Highland Manor apartments)
absolute zero money left cents lessly gassed
exhale incomplete sigh of relief
cuz necessity to dodge fast
escaping deafening police
ear splitting siren blast.
Congenial customer service
representatives at CJ's tire,
and automotive dutifully require
loose fender securely attached,
but hood latch replacement more dire,
thus postponing mechanic
to affix inspection sticker,
no matter old one did expire
once again driving on borrowed time,
cuz both driver and passenger front tire
plus rear right TPMS metal sensor
re: passenger rear tire
malfunction functionality
hoop fully explains this wire.
Your truly uber verging wreck,
no complaints regarding trained tech
very competent mechanic
even for peripatetic pluperfect prospect
reference I recommend unsolicited
advertisement plus aye inject
relieving anticipatory anxiety
oh yes, said vehicle
in good hands absolutely correct,
no matter sucker punch
to checking account
doth severely affect
mine psychological aspect.
More legal (zooming) tender
zaps lion's share of this thrifty spender
wannabe, which cruel tread full fate
unquestionably, ostensibly invariably...
every year without fail doth render
finding me in poor house
desperate to pray divine
rolling rocker alms lender
whether he.she major criminal offender,
nor no preference regarding gender.
Fat/slim chance
wishful fantasy will become true
escapist mindset bolsters
this hen pecked forlorn rue
stir standing glum within
long fostered, and winding queue,
this dirt poor dude intuitively knew
bubblegum, toothpicks and glue
holding psyche intact turned hue
man into sad sack... boo hoo
minus auto body work
undertaken by trained
heavy metal punk ken cutting crew.
Revenant
Swept in a vortex of woes
a lone silhouette concede wailing
Voice distinctly stentorian
encompass to heal cerebral ailing
Mysterious entity furtively
shepherds a peripatetic revenant
Wilderness safeguard not forsake
sentient beings repentant
09/03/2016
3:52 a.m.
Aboard cruise ship:
Vision Of The Seas
Jesus Torment - The Villanelle Of The Bible--
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
It was just so dear and energetic
Never had he known anything so royal
That morning, Jesus was shocked by the thimbles
He found himself feeling rather synthetic
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
Later, he realized that the bible was antibacterial
He thought the situation had become rather theistic
Never had he known anything so royal
Paul tried to distract him with a libel
Said his mind had become too peripatetic
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
Jesus took action like a scheible
The bible was becoming too genetic
Never had he known anything so royal
Jesus nosedived like a imperfect human
His mind became dangerously arithmetic
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
Never had he known anything so non royal
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
He had pals once, he had mates,
he once, twice and many times after
had women.
He had a hat but he lost that.
Lost the girls, lost pals, lost mates.
He had to admit
that all he once knew were disappearing,
he himself, was disappearing,
bits of him
had already been cut out
to be burnt up in Hospital incinerators.
The details of those many far flung places,
(all his peripatetic wanderings),
were disappearing one by one,
one temple,
one hotel, one mountain at a time.
One day he will awake
get himself ready to go out to walk his dog,
then remember to late,
that his dog had disappeared
about the same time
they both got throat cancer.
For now, he instinctively checks his pockets
for whatever is left.
Who, or what, do you think you are?
A Bollywood star
A Turkish bazaar
An iron crowbar
A permanent scar
A late-model NASCAR
An all-night Delhi darbar
A cowardly lion, ala Bert Lahr
A late-night replacement for Jack Paar
A postage stamp from the territory of Saar
A scene from MASH featuring Jamie Faar
An imported Swiss candy bar
A peripatetic avatar
A native of Madigascar
A powerful drug czar
A tractor-driver from Navistar
A pro golfer who can't even break par
An empty peanut butter jar
An unwritten memoir
A smelly, old cigar
A boring academic seminar
An unidentified flying object on radar
A diplomat from Myanmar
A fancy antique boudoir
A hardy-har-har-har!
Yes
It happened again
When you walked away
Leaving me in this grave
All alone
After killing me softly
Silently blowing me away
From my elementary capacity
Just like that
You walked away
Taking with you my contentions
And leaving a weeping corpse
Dead twice
And buried thrice
In this unfair darkness
Waiting for what you do best
Bringing your soft wet breath
To a peripatetic soul
That lost control when you parted
From a heart that was craving for you
And took away the life that was
With your fragile lips that touched mine
Taking away my heart
Stealing my soul
Leaving me drowning
In the embrace
As you squeezed my life away
What can a dead man do
But wait for resurrection?
For you
To bring the most scintillating touch
With tenderness
That grieves the spirit to return to its course
As you warm my life again
With
A kiss of Life
I'm a poet
And I don't know it
My rhyme destroys
My pen is poised
To trickle out
Some tale about
A butterfly
Or sunset sky
As sweet as jam
With rhythm slam
Dunk in your tea
My soliloquy
I'm a poet
Happy to show it
So on your bike
As I drop the mic
You may have guessed
If you passed the test
As you peruse
This lyrical muse
That no comp will claim
This shot at fame
My Shakespearean blooper
Hardly 'poetry super'
When the quill is dry
Or my muse is shy
Or the peripatetic
Pen pleads "pathetic"
I turn in shame
When love's words are lame
Yet in hopeful reason
This may be the season
Of drought, no doubt
It may be a good shout
Though my lack I berate
Truth is; seasons rotate
To conclude, I am hopeful
I can re-shape the doleful
Convert all this stressin'
I'm a poet.
(no messin')