Long Plenipotentiary Poems
Long Plenipotentiary Poems. Below are the most popular long Plenipotentiary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plenipotentiary poems by poem length and keyword.
SNOW IN SPRING
the cherry blossoms in preakness pink,
a swaff of butterflies,
gliding in otherworldly space,
fluttering like snow in Spring.
Cherry Lane in sonorous state,
an avalance of petals
in the streets -
shovelfuls of Japanese gold.
gilded in the hair of rich and poor,
who avoid each other's eyes
distracted by the blustery storm
kinder than the Fidelity Fiduciary Bank.
Poppins, breezes in and out of time,
a nanny with plenipotentiary showers
that leave the Banks rich and clean
and floating high as a kite, pretty as Spring.
5/29/2019
*References made to Disney's Mary Poppins
Into the fog I fell,
amidst the bone chilling cold,
caterwauled by silence -
eerily the end
of the year, dismal.
With the call of a forefinger,
I float through the mist,
silence switches
to a whisper,
rays appear through the haze.
Into the cradle I amble,
dizzy from 2024 strange happenings.
Lemons and apples fill the trees,
bright, juicy, bountiful, and
plenipotentiary fruit
of a Happy New Year.
Here’s where it gets weird:
we must take care
to love and serve
and the trees will prosper.
Love, joy, peace
patience, kindness, goodness,
gentleness, faithfulness, self-control* -
the kind of fruit that will produce
good results
for years to come.
The Whos in Whoville give praise.
The pennypinching Grinch** gives in.
Bells ring and voices raised.
Cheers, hopeful and kinetic.
*Fruit of the Spirit, bible reference
**Whos, Whoville, Grinch - Dr. Seuss book references
planning to plummet into the night?
wear your hat, ma’am!
wear your gloves, sir!
cover your skin with a moonlit coat.
no one, should get frostbitten,
somewhere in the deep south.
a place, where one glides, under the sun.
lover’s hands smooth and warm.
sweet tea, to cool one’s heated argument.
the new year has iced dew — frozen mid air.
breath, can hardly move its knees, through
the plenipotentiary rows, of brisk attitude.
pole to pole seems to be cold.
a rash move for the earth!
farenheit’s frozen adieu.
don’t tip your hat, sir,
for your ears might tumble!
don’t remove your gloves, ma’am,
for the lovely tips might fall!
© New Year’s Day 2018
SIGN OF THE TIMES
Stones will be thrown down. The temple succumbs like Lazarus.
Inconceivable evil hurled inside and outside satan’s circle.
Good perceived as bad and the reverse a similar fact.
Noah’s days before our rainy eyes, hankies blowing it.
Other christ, the false one, the devil incarnate arrives.
Feast of beasts will turn the world upside-down in defeat.
Torrential weather, hate and great distress to impress.
Heaven looks on in horror but not surprised.
Evening becomes the norm without moon or stars.
The persecutions worse and worser, God’s children cry, wanting
It to end sooner than later, having suffered and died, blood
Mixes like a cultural conglomerate - we knew the rat race
Eventide, on its plenipotentiary screeching wheel, couldn’t
Survive but for Jesus Christ — His victory secured at the cross.
4/22/2018
The temple in line one is Jesus. In the final line His victory.
I’m walking on sunshine,
slipping into the sparkling sea,
splashing the beach ball sun,
feeling warm and elated;
silk waters, as if in a womb
with plenty of room, coddle me.
dark waters, down deep;
the rays of the sun stroke my cheeks.
my feet dangle like jellyfish tentacles,
yet, as a human, I can become a raft,
drifting with the tides, tirelessly treading.
a ship comes along, another soul -
a stranger I might engage, but to kin,
I will release a wave, splash the sun
in their eyes, the ebb and flow of a
sunny kiss, and a rainstorm of bliss.
my fingertips like clouds, release
petrichor and plenipotentiary amusement.
a shark circles, in pretense; I sit
on a life preserver in the eddy;
I don’t want to come up for air.
SUMMER’S END
staying cool, in the pool,
where children are cruel,
on a very hot day—
Summer’s officially over.
from submarine fool,
fishy bubbling school,
plenipotentiary fuel—
a payload parade.
when the ping-pong jewels
surface - whirlpool
of fleeing ridicule.
afraid of riveting stool—
a flotsam snicker’s bar.
The worst part is the noise—
that awful fartastic that destroys
the floats, duckies, other toys.
it lasts and lasts…
it’s a spastic stinker,
a ferocious clinker —
it channels the sulfur pits of
Turkmenistan’s door to hell.
officially over,
the pool in deep cover—
no one hovers
near
the episodic rear of Summer.
9/24/2021
Fart-tastic
The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, one of my favorite films, hauntingly irresistible in black and white. The sun neither rises nor sets as the words stir in the tide. Like fabric, I touch and feel the throng of poetry, and roll the plenipotentiary words between my palms like playdough.
full-throttle captain
he ponders and tugs his beard —
ethereal sea
Mrs. Muir welcomes
his salty words of times past —
this ghost is her muse
The grit on my fingers, its mineral on my tongue, its scent of salty fish I inhale, as I tap on a cordless typewriter, my billowing blouse compliments the snow-white window treatment flapping in the windswept seaside cottage - but a dream.
the sand beneath feet
bare and entertained, tickled
by my inward muse
8/1/2019
“Something,” a compound
word, wondering why,
back in the early days,
I enjoyed it so, until
“serendipity” came along.
The “knock-knock,”
“who’s there?” “Surprise!”
The knockout of my voice,
the showering of my dishes,
the blending of daiquiris
and splendiferous guests.
Then the more potent,
poetic delight of “plenipotentiary,”
the dictionary, the thesaurus -
better than the yellow pages
and Sears Christmas catalog.
No, the catalog was cool!
I miss it - my first babbling;
I wonder what sound
first caught my attention
at my mother’s knee…
It must have been something.
ahh...auspicious shake of good fortune.
the soil so red, smells so rich.
the allure of an ancient burial box.
my eyes, like pyres of greed.
admiring thieves have no appetency for my pillage.
the cold stone shovel carelessly careens
showers of dirt on insulted flower heads,
but i’ve no time to waste. i absolve
to tear up this plenipotentiary grave.
her mesmerizing portrait with golden bangles,
diamond earrings and rings. ahh...that heaving diamond
placed over her heart.
she must have been ‘sumptin else in her day,
but my quivering fingers will rape her jewelry.
i will not assuage your thought of me —
the jewels sparkle in my mind with intensity.
my soul leaps with joy at the door knocker box.
i’m on hands and knees, dusting away the many days
these beauties have been worm infested.
ahh...this lid, will carry me in — the creak, so sweet.
my first peek, i’m in love
with the heavy diamonds on her eyes.
i undress them first…
darkness falls, something’s gone awry —
the anguish one feels before the century’s storm.
the atrocious jolt of chillers, i feel,
as a corpse comes back to life, teeming with teeth.
at first bite, i become a slave of the night.
10/9/2019
Crazy A's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Word List: Anguish, Awry, Auspicious, Atrocious,
Assuage, Appetency, Allure, Absolve
Lemony pines spring from my Summer mind,
dangling their scent, like Christmas ornaments.
I close my eyes and follow the sapphic breeze.
My bronze feet bounce through the mossy sea.
Feeling giddy in this faerie paradise.
I dosado amidst lichen and bark of ancient trees.
Buzz of bees, and rustic call of feathered friends.
A cup of honey and birdsong, a virtual violin —
played by the lonesome and serendipitous wind.
A long-winding face, a leprechaun plinking gold
through his kaleidoscopic fingers — I see him, who
never procreates, but his coins multiply — he has sinned.
Daffodils dot the streams of open pasture.
Eye-popping delirium, as if I am in oz.
Butterflies in conjured-hues, plenipotentiary patterns.
Suddenly, the wholesome forest burns with unrest,
as it turns to look at me in tatterdemalion dress.
“Be gone, you witch! Eden does no dalliance with slatterns”
I fall to the crackling ground and sob with salty tears.
Beggar, I’ve become — closely matched
with my seedy occupation. “Change me into a good thing.”
Pity in the form of clouds sweeps through the handkerchief-sky.
A dusting with faerie wand — magenta and cerulean magic.
A brand new pixie feels the purity of spanking-new wings.
7/22/2019
Tri-Con Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Emile Pinet
24 Lines
Tri-Con (listed as verse) created by Connie Marcum Wong consisting of at least 4 three line stanzas. Each line has no set meter or syllable count. The last word in each stanza must rhyme with the following Stanza and then you need to change your rhyming word again in the third stanza and so on.