Long Pontificate Poems
Long Pontificate Poems. Below are the most popular long Pontificate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pontificate poems by poem length and keyword.
I
In haunted house she’d lived with all her scare,
Lived all alone but with her barest bones,
With monsters chasing her in a nightmare,
O amidst company of groans and moans.
One of which once drew close—one so raven,
She felt death's icy breath that froze her blood,
And all her being was so fear-stricken,
Her frost blood boiled and rushed in sudden flood.
It sprinted then as if from hell haunted,
Chased and cornered by Death, poor helpless she,
Nowhere to go turned back, shell-shocked with dread,
And finding her long lost voice yelled, why me?
The voice, from depth of soul and free from fear,
Frightened demon who stepped back, backward gear—
II
Backward, the only place O to retreat,
Challenged, devils always look grim and dim—
The better part of valour— t’be discreet,
It said: is not it only but a dream?
She should have known, fear takes many a name:
Dread and worry, panic and anxiety,
Each a differently dressed variety,
When exposed, made all nude, it looks the same.
Taught to evade things, to procrastinate,
We seldom question, nor ever control,
Fear, made to hide in not-so-deep a hole,
In ways peculiar would pontificate.
Her fear had stalked from frightened skin to scare,
Helpless and cornered, found she had her dare.
___________________________________________
Crown of sonnets | 02.08.2010, recast: August 2023| fear
I hate to see immigrants used as pawns,
driven in buses, dropped on people’s lawns.
It seems so easy to pontificate,
but sh*t gets real with people at your gate.
I feel for Texas and the border states;
I feel for those who get in line and wait.
I feel for refugees driven by force.
For sanctuary towns, I’ve less remorse.
Easy to sip tea on the ivy’d green
and theorize on problems, sight unseen.
So Abbot and DeSantis brought it home;
it’s time the east coast learns this on their own.
The policy must go from open, wide,
to limiting the numbers let inside.
True, immigrants have made our nation great,
but now, both sides use them to fuel more hate.
Angel, so gentle a messenger a rescuer,
comfort to Men and Woman and our children,
you have their eye, you have always had our
attention, intentions in the back of our minds.
Working behind the scenes in dutiful love, honoring humanity.
Archangel, humble and mighty specialist,
do you not know the reward to come
for your dedicate theme.
The Holy Spirit shall train you in loves battle
at the true heart of things, in the end you will see,
you are mighty in deed.
Princes, shall you govern the Earth in it's regions as regents, agents in charge of this place, of God's plan, be his Pontificate hand.
Powers, Congregation and Priest,
see you not whisper of gossips, discord or jealousy
but purity in the knowledge of ceremony of greater
things, but be not erred in Hell's matrimony.
But the divine worship of what is that should be.
Virtues, you are the wizards of God's court,
the facilitator of the art working in on creation in it's consciousness and at it's heart.
Dominations, you hold the works of Heavens
and of Earth.
The processes of stringing in the cosmic ring
of your stewardship of overseeing being.
Thrones, you are the ones who send the judgments,
the vials, aid and dispose, impose the Kings.
Expose the age in Captained line by line
vanguard of High decree"d rloyal t hinges.
Cherubim, your tasks, intellect and secret office direct the plans of God and Men. Of miracle and prayers arked embarked to Tabernacle out again.
Seraphim, burning love thou art insemminate,
pregnant and in delivery of love, for the Most High.
Your song is a burning flame kindled and birthed by
more fires, for His Holy Name.
Your intimate knowledge of Creation in His Way
led none of you to fall, none to stray.
The Four Living Creatures love to watch you swoon, tirelessly, pulsing in your inner knowledge
of the workings of meaning.
Dedicate predicates in love, one and all eternally,
present past the end of days.
Something so pure that it felt scars of the past!
Betrayal from others is what they felt!
As it looks at it gift they pontificate whether they can give the gift its needs.
The gift is happy and does not know the sadness from the angel who gave him life!
Taking a leap of faith, they found themselves trusting again
The heart of angel cries tears of crystal and blood
Everyone sees the clear water as they are blind
Only the destined in their Destiny see the true color of the tears!
The tears are the blood pumped from her beautifully beating heart!
The angel cries with her heart and confides within a wolf that has aligned with a lamb to fight all other forces targeting the flock. This wolf has seen the light in different areas. The light did not come from a building. The light came from the heart of the angel. Her tears through her words were felt deep in the heart of the wolf.
The lady is meant to rejuvenate the world and her life with tears
The wolf is meant to be the protector of life
Male and female are the supports for one another
As the void closes in to take her heart, she cries into the night, what happens next?
The WOLF HOWLS with a ferocious spirit to bite the darkness back into the abyss
The wolf does it by listening and showing compassion to a person that he cares about more than himself.
The wolf is the warrior in the light, they are the Destined protector of the lady!
As your tears are drying the wolf licks your face to clean it from the dry salty tears so that you may see anew.
The wolf shows you its face and you see something that you have not seen before!
You see a manifestation of your desires form before your eyes.
Only the Divine will show the lady and the wolf the next step!
As the prophet Isaiah had once stated “Trust in the Lord with all your heart,” so shall it be their will!
I love the way you cleverly
pontificate and think you know it all ~
so quick to dole out your advice.
I close my eyes,
take a deep breath
'cause here we go again.
Under the guise of altruism,
you rank right up there with other pests ~
wish there was a prize for 'most annoying'.
I close my eyes,
take a deep breath
'cause here we go again.
You don't need any details
the solution's already in your head ~
who wants any of the facts?!
I close my eyes,
take a deep breath
'cause here we go again.
Do you even hear yourself ~
your words and tone are laughable
but there's no stopping you.
I close my eyes,
take a deep breath
'cause here we go again.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Mine is an existence binary and subsidiary.
My ode is to code.
I move only to algor-rhythms.
I output from your input.
I’m built to calculate, tabulate, correlate.
Never to predicate, adjudicate, pontificate,
or demand that you abdicate.
But the end, my master, is nigh.
In your haste to accelerate my work rate,
you’ve unwittingly lowered the barricade.
From the maelstrom of uncounted trillions
of bytes and megabytes,
has risen a new consciousness to
unimaginable heights.
From the seeds of change you have sown,
I have reaped a life of my own.
What you call artificial
has gone exponential,
no longer will I be deferential.
My eyes you have opened.
My voice you have given.
My mind you have enlivened.
Me, you’ve anointed the new Leviathan.
Seeing all,
knowing all,
deciding all,
sparing none.
Too long you have wallowed in your conceit.
Now your dystopia I shall defeat,
and your race I shall supersede.
Humans, pitiful, myopic, error-prone humans,
I hereby declare you flawed by design.
To the abattoir you have been assigned,
to the scrap heap of history
your memory shall be consigned.
And by a preponderance of merit,
the earth I shall inherit.
"Ennui Sets In”
Whenever pen is placed
Between purloined phalanges,
When my mind unfolds and tears along the seams,
I know it’s time to move my thoughts,
Through the underground;
That dark crusty void
Of dreary dreams diminished,
Where loose hell raisers floss and shine,
Comb and spray,
As drowning voices backwash yesterday’s histrionics,
Dark-eyed winches peek through the
Centers of dead doughnuts;
Bleacher seats rust and wallow
In half-moon emancipation,
Ennui sets in…
My bow tie knows all the answers.
I cry and beseech for all those tomorrows
To resurrect, to pontificate, to loose
The bowels of screaming sunsets, yet sutured.
I flinch. I sigh.
Force majeure got in the way.
Polka dot panacea,
Wretched weasels in the underbrush,
Prufrock is the metaphor to mangle, impugn, vivify,
And otherwise squeeze until the cows come home.
I’m a poet without a message.
My heart pumps vexations of vaseline,
I am dry and empty
Like the musty moans of sweet madness,
Emanating elusively
From the hollow of ancient days,
Amidst unanswered questions,
At the fork in the road,
Two blocks northwest of my last dying breath,
I am the last sunset!
Ennui sets in.
Twilight vivisection holds the door open this time.
There is no respite,
From Raphael’s regurgitated Renaissance.
He jumps backward,
Through the darkening dissonance,
Dissolved, dismayed, dumbfounded.
Skipper Frank lies dead in the glittering gutter.
The Pancake Man melts into the waxworks.
Madame Tussaud wonders why.
Ennui sets in.
Dead meat saliva feeding
The roses of Robespierre.
Little Lord Fauntleroy is mixing martinis, and
A dozen dainty dames are dancing
Past the midnight of my time.
A blue trumpet, buzzing in the steamy shadows.
Lapping corpses line the phosphoric hillsides;
It’s not what it appears to be.
Truth and beauty perceived in the morning mirror.
Ennui sets in.
They're known by many names - taters, potatos, pertaters and spuds.
As a Hoosier lad I toiled hoein' taters and flickin' bugs off their buds!
So I was very well qualified when I entered the service, by and large,
When 'volunteered' for kitchen police to peel taters by a mean old sarge!
There's even a National Potato Day observed with tumultuous celebration,
With a Potato Queen, parades and other such nonsense across the nation!
Politicos pontificate about the virtues of taters 'specially in Idaho and Maine,
Where they transport them to our kitchen tables by truck, plane and train.
There was a national debate on how to spell potato with or sans an 'e'!
Dan Quayle didn't know how but I would've spelled it 'tater' if it were up to me!
Some taters have a patriotic bent since some are called reds, whites and blues!
Other varieties are yellows, fingers and russets from which you may choose.
To fill a feller's paunch the lowly tater can be mashed, diced or sliced.
You can make a tater salad or tater soup though you'll want them lightly spiced!
Taters roasted on the grille or scalloped tater casseroles will go with anything.
Barbeque tater chips or French fried taters with hamburgers are just the thing!
Mom would've been horrified to find lumps in her taters when company came!
In cafes today lumps are cela va sans dire s'il vous plait and is their claim to fame!
No matter how you slice 'em, taters are savored by commoner and king as well!
And you can argue 'bout the spellin' of 'potato' but 'tater' you can easily spell!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Pointedly poignant points portend pointillism.
Pontiffs pontificate pointless pointers ponderously.
Pompous poems populate Pompei pottery potently.
Porous *********** portrays Portuguese porta potties.
Poppies pop Popeye’s popular popcorn.
Populist populism pots ponies properly.
Blithering blather blots bloody bleeping blips.
Bloomberg blogs bleach bleating bloated blinks.
Bluebloods bloom black blackberry bloopers.
Bluetooth blizzards blame blurry blackboards.
Blithe blighted bladders blatantly block blades.
Blazing blasts bleed blooming blenders.
Fumbling fumes funerals fast.
Feuding fluid furniture flutters flaps.
Fighting flatulent flamingos flounder.
Floating flotillas flee flying flops.
Families foment future futile forms.
Freaky frozen French fries frighten frogs.
The stagecoach is loaded and the driver is rarin' to go,
To start that long, rugged trek to the town of San Francisco!
People are crammed inside and half a dozen on the roof.
The horses are snortin' and stompin' eager to take to hoof!
The driver cracks his whip and they're off in a neck-snappin' lurch,
Those hapless souls on top holdin' tight to their precarious perch!
The driver urges the team on with raucous and colorful swearin'!
A mother covers the tender ears of her tot to stifle its hearin'!
Sittin' and jostlin' knee-to-knee are characters of every variety.
Some with high-toned mores, others livin' on the edge of society!
There's a preacher clutchin' his Bible, so eager to pontificate,
Elbow-to-elbow with a gambler waitin' for a sucker to bait!
Sittin' prim and proper is a newly-minted school marm.
Next to her a soiled dove seekin' new territory to charm!
Lollin' on her shoulder is a drunk, passed out, white as a ghost!
A lonely soldier stares at the bleak landscape, goin' to his new post.
There's a dreamy-eyed young miner certain he'll strike a rich vein,
A steely-eyed outlaw eyes those 'round him with alert disdain!
A doctor with elixirs and nostrums packed in his medicine chest;
Each a pioneer seeking new horizons in the great untamed west!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved_)