Long Pinion Poems
Long Pinion Poems. Below are the most popular long Pinion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pinion poems by poem length and keyword.
Fresh home from therapy,
and resonate with zeal
tush air cerebral cogs a turn'n
analogous to and pinion wheel
hence attempt made to bare soul,
sans thru poetry re: veal
ling avidity, asper barreling neurological
daily kos loaded truck full
heading toward figurative
lifelong landfill deposits
on weekly psycho
logical session I unseal
manipulating bothersome issues
controlled via bot size thumbwheel,
which grave undertaking i.e.
professional counseling allows,
enables, and provides opportunistic
gradual process at selfheal
ling oft times necessitates
reviewing silent Virgina reel
comprising the story
of earlier life piecemeal
akin to a slapdash montage
chronicling existential ordeal,
now referencing adenoids
(removal first mention within
poetic endeavor, when young boy)
loosely linkedin with nasopharyngeal
pseudo oral palate
highway tucking each meal
across miniature bridgework,
ma late mum meekly
acceded to doctors orders,
said operation sub
sequently deemed unnecessary
affecting negligible decreasing nasality
predicated on split (bifid
or bifurcated uvula), viz laryngeal
utterances finds me speculating
speculating now, whether taking kneel
ling pose possibly coo dove
wrought divine intercession
giving me super powers ideal
for fighting off being bullied
gloating this instant imagining
bringing beastie boys to heel
actual reality visit my kid self,
a most convenient scapegoat
socially withdraw puny size lad
internalizing hateful barbs glom
ming up significant emotional gearwheel
inferiority complex predominating
supplemented with cumulative
anger, a potent feel
ling exacerbating anxiety prone disposition
courtesy chromosomal
(pop'n mom genes) art of the deal.
She was a young bride
and knew no different
It started with unkind words
and grew to cruel besmirch
She thought she was unworthy
and deserved such throes upon her
Barely even noticed how gradually
he’d clipped her pinion
To keep her bound a prisoner
and never set her free
He made sure she’d know nothing
of flying high and fancy free
The beatings kept coming
till her lissome body
Could take no more -
‘twas only then she found repose
In a wooden box face toward the firmament
sojourn serene and brand new angel wings
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on May 28, 2018 for contest EIGHT-WORD CHALLENGE 4 sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 3RD
I listen to the wind as it dries my tears
because its flowing current is wiser than all my years.
~ Quote by poet
Wind is never silent, echoing its cries
It sings in the night to stars in celestial skies
Stories are told upon the rushing wind
but in the telling, never does it feel chagrined.
Quicker than a heartbeat, it errantly flies.
Across mountain peaks its music is heard.
In its harmony, I hear every word.
I feel the cold of its temperate sting
and with its beckoning lyrics, I sing.
When its message touches me, I'm stirred.
In a gentle voice through meadows, it talks
I feel like chasing it on morning walks
I'd rise with wildflowers to take flight,
soaring to the moon at its zenith height,
if I had pinion wings like eagles and hawks.
I listen to the wind as it howls without grace,
When it blows waves of saltwater in my face.
It speaks of love in such a solemn breath
In its stillness, I hear it mourning death.
Never, for very long does it stay in one place.
Celestial radiance…
...brightened by God’s eternal love
Cheers me up in my earthly sojourn…
…as a pilgrim vanquishing sin-inflicted throes
Beheld by divine witnesses far above the firmament...
…in circumspectly treading service-paths!
With faith’s pinion…
…I march toward my heavenly* abode
Subduing tendency to be lissome in my spirit……
…For my soul’s triumphant repose
While trusting my sovereign Guide…
…midst reproaches that besmirch my testimony!
*Hebrews 11:16 But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.
May 27, 2018
4th place, "Eight Word Challenge" Poetry Contest (celestial, besmirch, pinion, throes, sojourn, lissome, firmament, repose)
Sponsored by John Hamilton; judged on 6/4/2018.
"Bliss like thine is brought by years;
Dark with torment and with tears."
Emily Bronte - Sleep Not (1846) st.1
_______________________________
often, I am in the throes and agony of my mind
I am tortured and each day I grapple with sad thoughts
that pinion and shackle me to the past
with anchors unyielding, yet beautiful
with memories vibrant and ever and immortal . . .
and in meditation, I look beyond the firmament
to a heavenly utopia where there is only stillness
a celestial unearthly place divine
a paradise, tranquil and lovely
where I sojourn in serenity . . .
and there, lissome and graceful I glide- a butterfly
I float and drift among ethereal emerald trees
yet, the foul besmirch of my past follows
all those shadows that restrain me
but the beauty beckons me . . .
I wish for silken repose and to rest my mind of thoughts
to dream- to sleep and slumber in total stillness
but, in dreams I struggle with the past
so in blissful contemplation
I find my peace in my quietude . . . .
______________________
May 21, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Vibrant, Blissful, Quietude
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1024-942-21
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Eight Word Challenge
sponsor, John Hamilton, Judged 2018
Second Place
Submitted to the Premier contest, Vibrant, Blissful, Stillness
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 02/25/2022
Fifth Place
Dear David and dear Greta,
I thought I'd write a letter to our eco-anxious friends,
two perfect pinion riders of environmental trends.
You mighty eco-worryers with opinion in your grasp,
have you turned to your creator, or even thought to ask,
the One who laid foundations in farthest distant past,
and with His hand formed seas and land,
and bounded in his wisdom the multitude of nations?
Well and good to save the ozone, and the snowzone,
to ban the plastic, to change the fossil fuel.
But to turn not to creator risks the wisdom of a fool.
You follow all humanity to dust of flesh and bone.
Do you think your worldly sanity will save this earthly home?
Do you know how? His pitied promises are proven every day.
The healing of our land. Now, please, bow your knees, and pray.
He tried to cope, as they continually besmirch him
When he was thrown into the throes of their ways
His tears soaked his life, as he hoped to be sojourn
Then his heart barely beat, his breath now slower
He couldn’t escape the truth of all that was now lost
He lay beaten, until he saw the pinion of a celestial angel
Her lissome flight swept to him, lifted him, released him
Before his entry to firmament, where he found repose
Heidi Sands
8/24/18
Placed 5th in the eight word challenge 4 poetry contest.
Words required: celestial, besmirch, pinion, throes, sojourn, lissome, firmament, repose.
.
Hand in hand we walk along the shore
as the sun, in its final sojourn, dips below the horizon
We watch the lissome sway of the palm trees
As the pinion of a seagull, seem to graze the fronds,
Night falls softly, as silhouettes dot the sky
A dark cloud passes by to besmirch
the glow of the moon, and as a gentle breeze
caresses us, we share a tender kiss
Soon we are caught up in the throes of passion,
oblivious to the melody of the waves
Then the firmament releases a mist
and as we lie in misty repose
I gaze into her eyes, and she gazes back
with a celestial mystery, orbiting
each beat of my heart with her hazel eyes.
-
5-23-18
Eight Word Challenge-4 Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.
In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.
I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.
You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.
You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.
All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.
I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.
I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.
God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.
Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3
Lost in universal wonders...
pondering celestial bodies,
souls I have known...
Lost in firmament vastness...
pondering heavenly ideals,
blessings I have been given...
Lost in the pinion of liberosis...
pondering the concept of freedom,
opportunities I never took...
Lost in the throes of onism...
pondering my humanism,
choices I have made...
Lost in expressions of love...
pondering lissome words,
poems I have written and read...
Lost in continual noisiness...
pondering a sojourn of sorts
taking the time for repose...
Lost in voices of reason...
pondering wisdom and truth
praying to never besmirch them...
May 23, 2018
Eight-Word Challenge-6 by John Hamilton
Third Place Trophy Win
Best Free Verse Poem in May 2018 by Laura Loo
First Place
Best Free Verse April 1, 2018 to July 15, 2018 by John Hamilton
Second Place