Long Polemic Poems
Long Polemic Poems. Below are the most popular long Polemic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Polemic poems by poem length and keyword.
I sauntered in an evening mist
A midnight's heaven, magic-kissed
Lamp-lit raindrops pattered, awesome
Shining city turned violet blossom
Enchantments I could ne'er resist.
Adrift upon the Paris, proper
Wandered I, a Yankee pauper
Until a Latin damsel's ride
Paused, as she pulled me inside
(Not that I had mind to stop her).
Away, into another world
She and I were thusly hurled
A night of excess, spinning fast
Absinthe sweetened our repast
As did lips, and tresses, curled.
Club-to-club we smartly hopped
More green nectar if we flopped
Pushing tenders to their rations
Just to fuel our backseat passions
On-and-onward, 'til we dropped.
All seems dream now, in my mind
Still, I'd swear that when we dined
Famous folks from ages hence
Were with us for our merriments
And all the mischief we could find.
The best of writers in their day
Zelda, F. Scott and Hemingway
Gertrude Stein and Porter, Cole
Pined, polemic, from their soul
Life and love, the friendly fray.
No discourse was too far-fetched
Others, too, who talked and sketched
Pablo Picasso and Gauguin, Paul
Dali and Man Ray, surrealists all
On, the wilding hours stretched.
Ever poured the emerald potion
Crazy cogs in constant motion
Clouding, thick, the mental fog
Far beyond the hair-of-dog
Glasses raised for every notion.
Thus it passed 'til all went black
Awaking days hence in my sack
Believing now that all these things
Were just a night's meanderings
Or the ramblings of a maniac.
I set my mind to purge it all
Grabbed my phone to make a call
Then spotted on my bed, a note
Within the pocket of my coat
So I crumpled it into a ball.
You see, I recognized the write
I'd seen it on that misty night
When, with absinthe, we'd our fill
And Hemingway had signed the bill.
So I sauntered off into the night ...
Too scared to find out ... if I was right.
* FOURTH PLACE in the "Dreams" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor. *
The Hyper-Logos of Good Living
A poem about how to live a more balanced and harmonious life inspired by Ancient Greek Wisdom
Avoid being vicious and malevolent,
Instead, be magnanimous and benevolent.
Express, in myriad ways, your goodness
And be polemic and quixotic in your kindness.
Let your friendship be all-encompassing and egregious,
And incite your gentleness to be ongoing and ubiquitous.
Be laconic in speaking and attentive in listening
While adamant in pursuing truth and love expressing.
Do not let other passers-by in your life enervate you,
Making you expend your time and energy in ephemeral efforts.
Pray to Benevolent God, Almighty to exculpate you,
Making you remove your human passions and tribulations.
Live your life in a way, quite humble and ascetic,
Avoiding all expressions of senseless acrimony.
Never be a bitter character and sour acerbic,
Choose instead, sweetness and melodious harmony.
Replace your human soul’s traits of cacophony
With our only God’s manifestations of clemency.
Do not employ, ever, credulity
Nor overdue, futile cupidity.
On reaching old age, strive not to be an anathema
But instead, a councelor, like the ancient Athena.
Drive yourself away from social antipathy
With the greatest value of alacrity.
Always taking into deep consideration the following 2 things:
1. The concept of ‘Hyper-logos’ defines the holistic integration of the Aristotelian aspects of Ethos (Character), Pathos (Emotions) and Logos (Logic, Reasoning, Accountability, Responsibility) in conducting one’s own affairs in life; and
2. The following wise sayings of the ancient Greeks:
Democritus: ‘It is an act of magnanimity for someone to withstand vicious acts with humility and gentleness’.
Pythagoras: ‘Seek the true value of all things, and enjoy all gifts of God according to Measure’.
Today’s world a chaotic gone,
Lies in sly a'Babylon,
That came to be a polemic,
With filth of doctrine a chronic sick,
That claims to know the truth so well,
But in truth their pride doth swell,
Just before his lightning fall,
So full of pride all in all,
Stubborn as was, is can be, whom speaks against this misery,
Will no to live but death to be,
One thing for sure, that strong men gone,
Where are they now to defend the fawn?
All flesh is built, but hearts so weak,
Call them strong, in truth they meek,
Seeing this way, the brute take charge,
Endless torment to the marge.
What’s so strange that religion calls,
To confuse the minds of one an all’s,
Diabolical though! Not only who preach,
But sheeps that thrives this insidious speech,
No not where, they head to be,
They fall as prey to this heresy,
That lingers along not without,
But in the hearts of those who doubt.
Appeals the strength of God we know’r,
Denies the humility which more a’glore,
Came for one and only one reason alow,
To submit all to Mammonhomet below,
It seems so strange a candy’s wrap,
In its kernel a’full of crap,
That is what excites those hearts,
Filled with ‘I’s so torn aparts,
If thou speak a word to it,
In your face shall all doth spit,
Mock thee till you feel remorse’d,
Of the true truth you discoursed,
So much so, isolated you feel,
Hard to come by and get a meal,
That even your own rejected you,
Now I feel truly blue,
But I say, a Poet’s word,
Strength yourself, an Eagle’s Bird,
Soar high and let none beat you down,
Hold firm to Crucem, lest you drown,
Keep at it, so long as you live,
For the Triune One will graciously give,
True reward of eternal bliss,
A vision of his Godhead, never a’miss.
I travel in my imagination to talk to the sky about the sound from crying
Mum, the coastal area erosion my interest to take the risk to talk the
night gown glowing beneath the wind from the vile of verbose. The night
sombre to talk to me in lusty thy heart call to convey the conversation to
the contraction of my imagination pole to polemic night.
The cart of load middle of office article of etiquette acquiring the anchor
of life floating on the top of leafs to the drop of a pen that sound
inculcate Carbon Monoxide in my lungs, the bugs ramming the trim chopped to
the shape of my poetry garage, where lullaby play violin appeasing the
heart to function for the follow six years to come in the future to the
Futuristic that I have to feature all the songs sang by the birth to take
to me to my birthplace over second of ponder to pedal the hurdles to better
future star.
The shape of a room isn't my stop where building of atomic infractions dust
the dock to the documents of love, salad of emotions building in to into-to
Ruin not thy heart it sound correct to the correspondent reticent, the
Wagging of tail enjoins the brown color to the skyscraper in the heart of
the city sun. The ink of hate won't drop to the sound of pebble and the map
Of courage cool down the ridges moan of baby.
The high thinking keep on colonizing my entire colorless breathe that
wanted to shake to the voice of the night, the taste of understanding swirl
meek hard and aim of okra is too slippery the road to sound of success is
second hand to those placed theirs, the might blame the corrosive
Situation pink of flowers impact changes to the scent of cigar.
AFFLICTION?
It is said of young physicians when they first set out to learn
All the symptoms and conditions that known illnesses convey
They perceive these indications each one causing more concern
‘Til they make the diagnosis to their shock and their dismay
They arrive at the conviction
They themselves have the affliction
Now when learned academics write a thesis that proclaims
All white people are infected with a racism endemic
Filled with symptom and with signs supporting dogma that defames
Fragile folk are then persuaded by this plausible polemic
And arrive at the conviction
We’re all guilty of affliction
What could be more direful to survival of this blessed sphere
Than wild nature, once benign, by human feckless acts betrayed!
“See the wild fires, melting icebergs and the hurricanes!”- we hear
Computer forecasts yet sole factors we can truly call ‘man made’
Should we therefore have conviction
Of a terminal affliction?
Data now in a profusion never seen before these times
Flood our eyes and ears and minds in ‘monu-mental’ mind-bate range
Those with focussed strong agenda choose a menu that defines
And steers us, if undiscerning and from reason then estranged
To unquestioning conviction
THAT in truth would be affliction
Pour the drips and drops from an iambic alembic,
Evaporations of rosy prose and rhyming thyme,
To concoct within 'ye cauldron what the polemic
Spoons from this soup of poetic slime.
Add a measly mint of menthol wash,
And soul whose siphoned thrice with spices,
To be sprinkled into this soup of squash,
Whose nuts be buttery literary devices.
Boil atop the flames of foul feelings,
And stir in a mirror for imagery,
To reflect on while you're peeling,
Parallel chopped potatoes for symmetry.
Once the brew of poesy stew,
Has come to bubble with inflated diction,
Grab some allusions from whence you grew,
And sprinkle them with hints of your addiction.
What is stew without some cheesy,
Joke, like saying "once upon a thyme",
Or corny lines, like "long ago", are easy,
To discuss some metaphorical mountain climbed.
Top it off with some spoon bending ending,
To baffle those who chew,
On the chunks of messages your poem's sending,
So that they have to guess what's in the stew.
This poem was submitted for a poetry contest sponsored by Cindi Rockwell.
I crossed the yard
two-thirds awake,
intent upon
that coffee break:
young teacher hunk,
one tall, cool stud
(before the Night,
before the Flood,
before the Flight
of all that’s good,
before the Blight
brought down the Wood,
and damned spare tyres
dammed up the Gush),
I waded through
the schoolgirl crush.
Two slinky babes,
real dinky girls,
all legs and lips
and kinky curls
said “Come upstairs,
hang out with us:
we’ve got some ****
we could discuss.”
You think me stupid?
Yes, indeed-o.
They led me upstairs
by the libido.
With limbs so nimble,
movements fleet,
they steered me to
the science suite.
We pushed ajar
the green lab door,
and they weren’t smiling
any more.
They wanted me
to case the joint.
They’d brought me here
to make a point,
for Tippy Hedren
and Lee Remick
had drawn me in
for pure polemic.
That sterile world
of steel and glass:
that ingrained smell
of Bunsen gas!
You’d keep away
from high school labs
if you’d seen what
was on those slabs.
Hearth of Winds
From west to east you plumb axisal spin,
And darted on the limbs of the poles.
On longitudes and latitudes, you are dotted in silhouettes.
Just above the horizon of age, you journeyed,
Beckoning the threshold of syllabubic windfalls.
Sated with doldrums of lambent haul,
And the pomp of sycamore hover instill.
When you call again at the Isle of trench,
The oracles of time shall tune again the aviary.
Seated upon the pillion of days the carter roves,
Tilting in all directions with hopes of succour.
A long way from time indeed you are,
But as the tides of valour surmise you triumph.
Once I saw an array of humanic acclaims,
In a manger of Sylphic heath of tenderness.
The hills of tonic travails titivating the hold,
And all the flakes of materialism dancing attune the vista.
The tales of deeds will forever entail polemic puzzles,
And the spate of the weaver’s loom shall reckon amidst.
Adeola Yusuf Amuni
simply blither
simply obscure
obscure lingo
obscure form
form of creation
form the phrase
phrase the question
phrase for the play
play on your knees
play in the yards
yards of meter
yards of counted
counted on your fingers
counted on your toes
toes of glory
toes which dance
dance in lines
dance in time
time to form questions
time to answer
answer the phone
answer the call
call OUT
call them IN
in deed
in need
need to have structure
need to find place
place on the page
place on the stage
stage play
stage coach
coach the team
coach ride
ride the car
ride the boss
boss the writer
boss the poet
poet with style
poet who lingers
lingers on their own pain
lingers on their own voice
voice uncontrolled
voice over stated
stated a need
stated verbose
verbose Narcissists
verbose polemic
polemics
Narcissists
It was a sudden grim tragedy,
That jeopardized lives and safety,
With neither a tremor nor vibration,
An edifice came crumbling from the foundation.
Like Titanic ship it came sinking suddenly,
Like pack of cards it came crashing all at once,
People died and got buried alive unexpectedly,
Under the dust and debris all at once.
This is more than a pandemic!
It grieves my heart and left me saddened
That forces unknown wield such polemic
Against mortals and are divinely unrestrained
Could it be there was no safety inspection,
To detect the frailty of the structure,
To check for a crack in the foundation...?
Oh, may it never happen again in the future.
Dear Lord, to the deceased grant pardon
That their souls may find eternal rest
And to those they left grace to bear
In hope that they are saved from eternal grief