Long Pinnacle Poems
Long Pinnacle Poems. Below are the most popular long Pinnacle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pinnacle poems by poem length and keyword.
I climb to the top of the Eiffel tower to catch the remnant of hope gliding through the skies in a bolt of lightning as it circles the three hundred- and thirty-meters pinnacle standing bravely on the hill singing songs of redemption.
I have been longing to get there because I have something romantic to share, it was you I saw sitting in a golden chair with a diamond ring on your finger and golden septage in your hand.
You had gifts all around you and long line of people were waiting to see you and the people from Babylon walking by saluting and bowing in front of you.
It seems like yesterday they rolled the curtain away and you came out without a thought or doubt, but the villagers began to shout.
They marched in the village with sticks and stones calling on the woman of Samaria to turn around or they would send the tanker man to blow up the town.
She didn’t take it seriously until she got hit in the face and ended up with broken finger and domestic disgrace, forcing her to pull back into herself as the weapon of death wheeled over her head.
It causes her to lose some precious vote and while she was out everyone start to shout, the river monkey and the Pentecostal valedictory but the Methodist honorary showed compassion and did not voice their opinion. Pope Francois was in on it too. But his persuasion was not strong to take down the giant man.
The live imagery was so profound of everyone you meet in the town. They smile in front of you and tear your garments behind you and when they are done, they hang it on a stick and place it on top of the Eifel tower in the sun.
We live in two separate worlds, one inside of me and the other outside of you, but it feels like you are right here besides me.
I can hear you all the time but you mask your voice underneath the vine and at nights when I take a nap you play tick tack toe underneath my frock but I pretend to sleep on to prevent altercation on the land. The image is always there it comes and disappears.
I am going on the hill to meet with the daffodil; I will minister to its soul and make its body whole. I will heal its painful allergy and when I wave my hands over its face, it will remove all the disgrace and dry up all the allergies.
The daffodils will smile again from the virtue of my healing hands, so come and help me to sing this beautiful song.
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.
Friend, before life moves us to the parting ways
Let wisdom tell from rend of heart its lessons old
That you may take your journey springing praise
And mend with gladness dream and mirrored fold
One road invites the universe of man to dawn
The place we left in awe of sword and flash of fire
Stumbling from purpose and lapping dew for ire
Making the circle of return to the cradle of the fawn
It's two things the oracle challenges us to know
Where the road diverges into many different paths
What vision shapes the skill that need will show
To meet the tests that sever self from it thoughts
And lift the eagle to the pinnacle of brimming star
And say to soul you are worth more than you seem
In any dissection of the flesh or weighing of dream
The mantle is mask that pretends not who we are.
What if one branching path a wide lake must cross
What if another a snow-capped cliff must clamber o'er
And still the next has serpents slithering in the grass
And one stretch endless like miles of a sandy shore
Shall the swimmer charm the serpents, swim
The sands, and climb the mirror face of ice
Against a different purpose will his dream suffice
Or all mismatched paths not a meet a fate still grim?
O too many on the wrong path are embarked, too few
Their purpose know before the journey begins
The shipwreck on deserts straddle the sense as clue
Ignored ... self-blinded race, drowning in our sins
He who foreknew us predestined purpose too
Each tree is seeded after its kind, each man can
Achieve only what is set in the primordial plan
The broad way is littered with much too much to rue.
What use is choice unless some context tell the aim
For once and only once we choose the path to good
And joy, the river does not return, the sea is the same
Only at the rapids end. Not what I would, but what I should
Is all I need to know. It's not the prize but the race
We run is what we are destined for. Go now, friend
And wing the light and for mist of truth contend
The swift may run, but the wise the victory taste.
The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance
Streaming with incresent colours towards life
Infinite within its parhelion possibilities
Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides
Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities
Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld
Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted
Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding
Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon
Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom
These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times
Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow
Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations
Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe
Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages
Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls
Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets
Encased within the chamber once laced
Unto broken bricks of concretes chained
Like Percivals plight....
Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores
While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved
Until antinomy could devise no more; yet
"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"
Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes
Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void
To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night
This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused
Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed
Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached
With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails
Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs
Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed
Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke
The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef
Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day
When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of
Hopes castaway possibilities....
Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise
But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee
Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed
Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Percivals Promise!?
Form:
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
in waves of creative delirium
Flying free~~~
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstasy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth with wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was meant to be:
Sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
“sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
waiting to be filled
with word seeds of ingenuity
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her as she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules...
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
in the sublime
she was oblivious to time
Ah....sweet release~~~
In the after glow
he wouldn't let her go
but held her safe and secure
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
serene in the knowledge
that beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she came looking for him
begging him to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to compel her to see
what life was meant to be
Poetry was her best lover
and she had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
than her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
Trigger warning ?????? miscarriages mentioned
Twinkle twinkle my little miracle
You'd have been six or maybe even seven
Is that so terrible or simply ignorance is Bliss
These aren't dates I tend to try and recall not because of you,
No not at all just the loss was so god damn awful, I often think of you as you were my little miracle,
A precious parcel sent down by a whomever is the Pinnacle,
Whoever is the Giver but also remember the take of life,
I just wish he'd opted to not bestow upon me such an agony filled life,
I was told very young a family was unlikely to be,
I knew there was a possibility that I may always only be an auntie,
Apparently I screamed when they told me the news that day
That memory doesn't resonate in my mind,
What does is everything going numb,
You find yourself just staring away,
But in a few days that went away,
However what's left is this hole that's been nored away bit by bit out of your heart,
It's as if someone's shaking you awake without the faculties you need to stop yourself from falling apart,
Nothing ever fills that hole you know believe me I've tried,
There's always a yearning maybe a gap will always reside,
Now you were clinically medically just a little precious diamond twinkle,
So people will no doubt ridicule and call me delusional,
Or crazy, ridiculous I could literally list every label,
But I don't care because my heart has never again been a full muscle,
Maybe it's so your diamond light can twinkle through and serve as a memory,
That for a split second in time you made me the happiest and richest mommy there could be,
Although you never made it here to meet me
Because you were my shooting twinkling star a one in a million my little miracle,
I think I'd prefer to remember you like this on your anniversary,
Than to keep recalling the horror, the pain of the days tragedy,
Who knows maybe in time it will serve as a remedy and maybe not just for me,
Regardless of what week or what stage you have a miscarriage it is still the loss of your twinkling miracle,
Who gave you the happiness of being a mummy or Daddy, even if only briefly, it was real for you, Just like it was real for me too.
Copyright © Sarah Cope | Year Posted 2023
Sarah cope 05/06/23
Sponsor Julia Ward
Contest Name A Diamond of Time
Written: May 13, 2023
3rd contest winner
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lichen lilies lavishness,
outwardly shine as canorous core,
an idyllic sight of buds bursting
a ballet of aromas filled the sky,
as dulcet spring hues dump down.
Butterflies seduce
with trellised wings
amid ethereal sapphire
mist of Elysium,
I tossed my amorous nexus gloss,
countless metaphors emerge
an abyssal-rooted niche of insight,
a sporadic charm is startling
and delightful.
At sunrise, red orioles flutter
garden spring on my balcony,
ushering with cheerful chirps.
Emerald lime stains all that,
wild geese honk loudly,
ebbing from tropic migration
a cluster of violet fern flowers
zestful azure azaleas
vibrant daffodils are in bloom
fluffy tulips in all their glory
buoyant spring hues aurify the clay.
Beyond that, there is no bounds
amid hypnotic Eve and pinnacle
from a charmed sight
my gaze is wide and riveted,
through this impressive display,
an exuberant plethora of shades
glistening on rain-washed skin,
sky-smitten, diaphanous blithe
melting into mesmerizing shapes
strange sights subdue my mind,
as my heart beats with delight,
emerging from its hushed cocoon.
a vision of ageless grace.
Initiating sensory stimulation.
witness the marvelous artwork.
carefully crafted by a skilled hand
to bequeath a masterpiece
beaming with the spirit of love
a mesmerizing charm
a live sculpture in motion
& a pure symphonic melody
embrace a cosmic radiance
amidst a celestial daydream,
dazzling in a blaze of sequins
my heart is yearning,
an enthralling rhythm echoes within
optimism surrounds splendor
this exquisite ruffle relic,
a morphing metaphor draws on forever
clarifying the layout of magnificence.
Beads of lilac amethyst
observe a lunar synodic cycle
debunking twilight
desultory musings
an auric haze wrapping
jubilant jewels are in motion
I am an awe-struck artist
weaving a quilt of love,
a dazzling aura of shining words
playing a whispering debate
under dulcet moon glow
In unique words,
stars are willing to shine for us
our love outshines all else
even most dazzling clusters,
an equally bright radiance
all over, a billion red diamonds
under oriental lily skies.
She’s dead
But will always stay alive
A beacon for everyone with a gripe
Thatcher snatcher was their war cry
When with apparent vigour
She tore asunder all society held dear
A divisive strong willed fighter
With femininity covering a steely frame
She moved gracefully among men
A force of reckoning
In a world sphere where enemies are held dear
She finally met her maker
But will never die
Her legacy outlives her presence
A formidable opponent now in a grave
With glee they gloat
Ding dong the wicked witch is finally dead
Praises and condemnation come from all over the globe
Some will assess her on her overall impact
Both then and until now
Others will always remember wrongs
That were brutally inflicted
On an apparently obedient society and country
Dragging us away from our empire building
Death always calls
He will not be out smarted
No matter the heights in politics one reaches
An end of a life
Often brings a renewed interest in the past
The bandwagon has catapulted her
Back into The limelight
When she was almost forgotten
To divide and rule seemed to have been her best skill
Her un-bending no alternative mantra
Caused much ill-will
Yet the country prospered
The right to buy scheme made
Home ownership possible
A vote buying scheme
That made the middle class grow
Pity the milk tokens are what condemns her so
She hammered a few who with
Entrenched special interest
Mangled the country
Stagnating both the economy
And society
The belief in individuality
Coupled with free market economics
Set up a house of cards that blew over
Long before she breathed her last
Virulent machismo
Where the sharks circled
Even when they smelt no blood
Overcame her eventually
She was of course partly to blame
But no one has ruled since as she did
A woman in a man’s world was she
Wielding much power
Over the men that surrounded her
Over Her party and ultimately a short sighted country
To the pinnacle of both party
And country she rose
Her handbag swung far and wide
Her three times victory
A testimony to her longevity
And he ability to play the system
She didn't invent
Rest In peace
Or pieces Maggie
You came
You Conquered and
Have now left the stage
Your legacy will be fought over incessantly
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore,
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie
exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
In waves of delirium
flying free
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstacy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her to come
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity, endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was mean to be
sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
and “sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her
for who she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
the sublime
tasted and lived
then to descend
to warm after glow
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
for beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
a poem child
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she
came looking for him
begging him
to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to wet her lips with the taste
of eternity...
Poetry was her best lover
and she
had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
But her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
This is a repost of a poem I wrote some time ago. I felt the urge to repost it. I'm passionate about poetry.
Did you know that God has performed many miracles?
Quite the sight I bet, parting the Red Sea must have been a spectacle'
He did this so Israel would pay homage,
For God taken them out of bondage.
After Pharaoh watched his armies perish,
Did Israel grasp this and really cherish?
The price Pharaoh paid, along with his son.
Knowing that he pronounced the curse was from his tongue.
Couldn't wait they're faith waning,
They (Israel), made idols and continued praying,
Moses on Mount Sinai, getting the law,
His people singing,dancing down in the draw.
Moses returned, became good and angry,
Smashed the tablets, earthquake came suddenly.
Moses, hated them at this place and time,
They knew not what they had done, what a price to pay for that crime.
The Lord was angry, more then He ever had been,
They idolized a golden idol, Moses was heartbroken.
Later, the Lord continued to perform miracles,
Through David,who was fearful of the Lord, putting our Father at the pinnacle.
In Acts 13:2, " A man after God's own heart."
Within David, God and Spirit were never apart.
Wisdom was given to David, to rule justly.
Decisions from the Spirit, made David mighty.
David with many others are called prophets,
To have wisdom and the Holy Spirits knowledge.
God commanded to keep His Sabbath,
Exodus 18, clearly is the law and it's message is mammoth.
God made a covenant shortly after,
Special people, to His flock, thereafter.
The Ten Commandments, God's spiritual law,
Israel and God agreed to this, Holy without any flaws.
From Moses to David, and a covenant for sure.
To follow the statutes, and have a Spiritual cure.
God commands through His Holy Book, to be faithful,
Do this, and your Lord will bless you, and you'll be eternally grateful.
Now today, is the beginning of Passover.
Reminding Israel of another promise to escape death, the real story right to the core.
Then the weekly seven days after, unleavened bread,
The night the Pharaoh cursed all the firstborn, ans all Egyptians first born were dead.
So in closing, Our Lord is a Spiritual judge,
He angers when we forget to fear Him. and He does hold a grudge.
Obey the Lord, be humble but bold, and sincere,
He will forgive you, you, me, his flock, whom He loves so dear'