Long Preceded Poems
Long Preceded Poems. Below are the most popular long Preceded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Preceded poems by poem length and keyword.
Random chain of events
preceded occurrence re:
guarding existence of me
interminable fits and starts
concerning self destruction
inherent within one measly
self important species.
Yours truly synonymous
with any chance reader
(of course inclusive those
untold past multitudes,
who trod upon this oblate
spheroid preceding one
anonymous groveling,
middling sniveling modest
*****sapien) pursuant
upon unknown destination
giving contemplative,
introspective, speculative...
pause every now and again,
asper bajillion prior
bipedal hominids, whose
individual deliberate or
random natural biological
impulses wrought sons
and/or daughters, whose
subsequent call, sans their
wild procreative proclivities
unwittingly begat the
unique chromosomal
combinations inscribed genes
imbuing each of us with
transient occupancy to revel,
relish, reckon very finite
number of orbitz around
nearest star, how longevity
(till mortality – leisurely
and/or vocationally)
expended, yet anatomically,
biochemically, physiologically...
linkedin with avast
gamut incorporating
unknowable determinants sole
fully cobbling wide, whirled
webbing, (albeit skein
microscopic) comprising
resultant Deoxyribonucleic
amalgamations, combinations,
emulations...throughout
untold generations eventually
giving (swell pregnant)
rise to healthy progeny
predicated on an uneventful
tragic mishap in utero
preceding parturition, which
miraculous seminal fertilization
regarding series of
fortunate events delineating
quintessentially strapping
robust tot destined (years later)
to continue human
species, thus I ponder
tremendous steep odds (analogous
to drawing winning lottery
ticket), when reproductive
processes diploid propagating
one after another ongoing
generation, yet in retrospect
every cellular T-Mobile
chance coupling attendant on
haphazard spontaneous
buzzfeeding circumstances
promulgating prolific primal
precedents begetting each
individual necessitating tenuous
fluke (worm hungers) engaging,
engendering, engineering...
(similar to science experiment)
endowing penultimate on the fly
fusion between two haploid cells
impossible to explain convincingly,
(asper in my mind) the notion
predestination intervenes
likened to invisible hand.
Firstly, having realized that PS Soupers cross the International Line, aspects of politics should be addressed. Clarity of 'Crossing the Aisles'. An American phrase references Congress and seldom elsewhere. I'm expounding on Congress via its members and how they find it useful. Members accord themselves with similarities fashioned by their constituents -- lest they seek a short term. Ergo, they'll ingratiate themselves on social issues that affect their daily lives, and the reciprocal benefit will ensure a mainstay in office. Members in opposition will ingratiate with constituents on those similar social issues that affect their daily lives from a whole different perspective thereby affecting said controversy from 'Crossing the Aisles' on a political level, whether it be, Washington DC, Ottawa, Canberra, or elsewhere..
Now on the subject of religion. I've bandied about my POV on faith and my pious mother via some of my posted poetry here at PS. In my sampling for the contest, I did make such an implication of that fact yet if you read into it, you'll note it was words of Christian standards that infer a mother's love towards her two sons that preceded her in death. I did not preach on the subject of my faith and have it dragged into the darkness of controversy.
Contrast on Controversy
A strong wind blew and the whole town knew
This storm intended trouble
A crashing sound upon the ground
My chimney stack was rubble
The daffs by the highways were all growing sideways
And I heard my gardener cry
Because he had never and neither had I
Seen a greenhouse fly
And then there were screams, the vicar it seems
Thought he was Mary Poppins
His brolly went down - so did he with a frown
Preceded by his droppings
I, by golly, clung to my brolly
And I soared like an eagle
And then I saw the vicar bounce
Off Westminster Cathedral
Fences were flattened all over the town
And many trees were down
A wheelie bin rolled up the street
And past the rose and crown
And then the wind dropped
My brolly flight stopped
And I had to face a new truth
My landing had led
Straight into my bed
It seemed I would need a new roof
Whispers of an enchanted deer wafted through the oaks and the lilies
The exquisite forest came alive with new fantastical creatures
Roses are always doubters, so they disagreed with their thorns
But most of the flowers were open to the rumor, eager to see the deer
A gentle breeze preceded the deer into the thicket of florals
The deer was lovely, with scrolls, and beautiful nearly pastel colors
I love her, the daisies said/
A testament to the truth; daisies love everything.
The deer looked around approvingly, she enjoyed new places.
This forest was exquisitely beautiful; she could be happy here.
A brown stag with fourteen points looked her over pronouncing her queen.
She shyly told him she expected to earn her place like the other creatures.
The weeds were thrilled; a deer with integrity; this was a welcome relief.
Bent on reprisal sword in hand
Gonzalo and friends paddle ahead
To Alcácer Do Sal where Christians
By Moors are held
Concealed by dusk
Disembarking their boat
Toward the city bravely walk
Hiding from view they observe
Moorish girls and men sport around
Dancing on the grass for Bairam fest
Dazzling among companions
Sweet loveliness beyond compare
Charming in lightness and glamour
Captured by her smile Gonzalo
Maddened with love
Rushing into the crowd snatches her, loses her
Snatches her again from the belligerent crowd
Flattered by his valorous effort
Falls in his arms tight the girl enamored
Burning with love they run
Having escaped she converts
Joining body and soul in married joy
Not meant to last
Much too much happiness
For one heart to hold
Princess bids farewell to the world.
A monk now Gonzalo
Her image in heart of his heart
Reflected in the beauty all around
Sweetness of her fragrance in the flowers
Her gaiety in all playful seek and hide
And in the bell ringing prayer
Her name Fatima
Bridge between warring sides.
Fatima by Gonzalo named is where Mary
Preceded by The Angel of Peace,
Chose to appear to three children
Lucia, Francisco and Jacinta
With signs and wonders
And the sun dancing in the sky
Witnessed by thousands
Warning of the abode of the damned
Where souls that nobody prays for
Or sacrifice for end
With a promise of peace and a request
To pray the rosary, convert, make amends
Consecrate Russia and all wars will end
Or nations will vanish from the earth.
When you hear peace sweet deceit
It’s world war three drum beat
Bent by suffering to its knees
A remnant will beg God for peace
The peace that through Mary God will give.
In the darkest depths of the ancient grove
of ancient Ede.
Gnarled branches reach for the light
in confession plead-co-guilty.
Medusac Serpents ring outward in resounding query.
to a wormhole-echo-narium, ported to a moment,
of Original Sin,
The presenter, the stage, concessions made of therein.
Roots delve deep, delived upon a firmamented
pillar of origins in it's holding sleep.
Pre-enBarked-when life was smooth.
Where fruits preceded action, 100 proof.
Before the fermentation of intoxicating temptations.
Reconciliation will bear it's fruit as a token of bearings.
No longer withheld from holding oasic thirsts in it's vocationary phane.
The chapter written, co-auth, co-seduced, burned, turn the page.
One day this will all be restored and forgiven,
them.
The tree will hold out its branch,
and slightly sway in the Glen,
in limemoric romance, in that way.
Shall offer tempting delicacy to Adam and Eve,
and squirrels,
and a porch swing,
carefree in the night or in the light of day.
an irrevocable positive transformation occurred
within and without
the world according to Matthew Scott Harris
got mussed and stirred.
No longer central focus of mein kampf,
NON GMO, and glue tin free
continual attention to offspring
took precedence not always glee
full, and how receptive lee
toward voluntary selflessness:
case in point regarding the selfish me
bumped off the long entrenched priority
toward my needs and wants prithee.
A recombinant adjustment incumbent
outlook arose upon freshly minted papa,
where stork sent
Weltanschauung demanded gent
to reef focus his shift, which meant
twenty four hours, seven days a week
plus work in order to pay rent
away from him, and directed a tent
shun toward welfare, welcome, and well being
for totally tubular dependent new outlook on life,
especially when spouse went
out for a breathing spell
became priority number
one thru...infinity, no hard sell
though lacking with any knowhow aye tell
asper tendering attention upon survival
of (what essentially
constituted a foreigner), like George Szell
thy senses required rejiggering, which this fell
low highly struggled with cuz,
no handbook (as promised by manufacturer to boot
ever preceded by Sir-vex), nor followed suit
leaving nervous dada in the dark spooked by a hoot
at onset, when our bundle of joy
more valuable than any amount of loot
could buy, and when back to apartment we did rent
(at that time) Pennfield Manor not heaven sent
situated within breathing distance
of slaughterhouse five scent.
You can't read a mind, but you can read a face
Just watch over time to see emotions that race
Expressions revealing rejection or jeers.
Enough to chill anyone, confirm paranoid fears.
There's the expression "We will crush you"
And "You just don't get it, but we hate you."
A face that can't hide a nasty plan
What can I do? I'm just one man.
There's the face that says I'm a cloying fool
Then there's tones I never heard in school
There's the tone of dripping contempt
How do I deflect that, even make an attempt?
There's the face rehearsing how he'll beat me to a pulp
I look at it and let out a nervous gulp.
Skeptics say I expect to see, then I fill in
But if half is true, my future is grim.
The are the words too, that sometimes come along
But the interesting aspect is the rest of the song
Maybe it's the brain controlling muscles, controlling eyes
That makes the inner feeling break through the disguise.
This preceded talking, in our evolutionary past
Another way of knowing, that some dismiss too fast.
You can know much about a man, just by the way he laughs
Know with who to hunt the wildebeest, with who to forge your path.
When someone plans a wedding
And the venue’s out of doors,
There most often is a back-up
Just in case it rains or pours.
If there’s not, it’s rather daring,
Like a gauntlet has been thrown;
Will the gods take up the challenge
Or leave well enough alone?
So the wedding I attended,
In the evening, on a roof,
Was a testament to chutzpah
And the party was the proof.
Though a rainy week preceded,
It was glorious and dry,
With a breeze to stir the senses
And a sunset in the sky.
As we watched the glowing couple,
Filled with love we all could see,
We just shook our heads and marveled
At the absence of Plan B.
Mother Nature gave her blessing
So we danced and dripped with sweat,
Feeling giddy with relief
That we weren’t soaking wet!
"It is to be..." A bold statement!
Demonstrative for it's not preceded with "If."
That would leave room for a way of escapement.
More of a command as if delivered by the Word of God,
or the promise of a lesser being... I am merely mortal.
Que sera sera... what will be, will be? Not a chance.
That seems much too uncaring a stance to take.
A life, left in the hands of fate could easily be led astray,
but that's not the way I choose to live.
Forgive me if I dance around what I'm trying to say.
It's just that I want to follow through with whatever it is to be.
To know when a friend carries sorrow in a wounded heart
so that somehow I might find a way to chase it off.
Don't scoff. I know being human has its limitations,
but friendships are in need of aspirations. They are to me.
I'm not interested in being disappointed in others.
I've thwarted and dismayed many, even my own soul.
It is to be that I need to prove to myself
that I confess having been foolish on occasions
but I still dare to dream for my heart's desire
without the least hint of gentle persuasion...
even when I put myself in the line of fire.
It is to be, as written in 'My Creed' by Edgar Guest,
"To take what comes of good or ill
and cling to faith and honor still.
To live undaunted, unafraid
of any step that I have made."
It will do no good to recall my strife or what I've lost.
I don't want to live on the waves of a storm-tossed sea.
I choose to drink from the cup that's half full
and inhale the fragrance of ecstasy when it comes my way.
I cannot alter what was but will accept whatever "it is to be."