Long Precision Poems
Long Precision Poems. Below are the most popular long Precision by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Precision poems by poem length and keyword.
Seven Morning Stars
In the western Carpathian piedmont
Which my grandfathers left long before,
The peregrine falcon flees likewise
From a tableau of fresco tradition,
Superstition, and tempera myth.
The me of then bested the alpine pass
Where Hannibal lost his eye.
The I of now has met equal regard,
Evoking the grim determination
With which Henry took Harfleur.
Astronomical winter commences
With numbing indifference.
Indifferent as I am to distraction,
Focused on habits of antiquity
And methods of calm consistency.
A Zen ritual neatly informed
By the flowing advent of water.
Frictionless as lighthouse mercury.
Liquid in form and function.
A fluid collaboration of body and mind.
A calligraphy of sinewy limbs
In an illuminated manuscript
Documenting Sanskrit whispers
Keeping the humors in balance
Aligned with the pace of breathing.
A disciplined manual of arms and legs.
A pacifist drill exhibiting military precision,
Casting well-aimed volleys and salvos.
Performing atheist miracles.
Conjuring Merlin-like spells.
Mastering all the rumored labors
And sundry assorted tasks,
I claim my rightful inheritance
In this temple of redemption
Where one cannot tell Zion from Babylon.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
FULL RANGE OF MOTION, BALANCE, AND CORE STRENGTH TRAINING
In Castle Ravenloft he waits, a shadow crowned in mourning,
a king forged not by mercy, but by the cold precision of fate.
The moon hangs low at his command, pale as a forgotten vow,
and every star retreats, afraid to witness what he has become.
Once a man of valor, his heartbeat carried songs of triumph;
now it echoes like a hollow drum, remembering battles long dead.
Love, the wound he could not heal, carved deeper than any blade,
and in the silence, even his immortality trembles with regret.
Barovia kneels beneath his will, though none dare call it loyalty
fear is the soil in which he plants his eternal dominion.
Yet in rare moments, when the torches flicker and curtains sigh,
he touches the ghost of who he was… and grieves in secret.
For the curse that grants him endless night demands a greater price:
to hunger for what he once protected, to destroy what he once adored.
He is both sovereign and prisoner, ruler and ruin,
Count Strahd von Zarovich the immortal tragedy carved from midnight.
Itinerant mercenary shrouded with penitent robe
Shining beacon for terrorists around the globe
Hermetic curmudgeon; gun-toting xenophobe
Zealous provacateur who for ardent jihadists did probe
Material wealth a means; establishing a caliphate the end
Seeking Arab-royalty's, sovereign-sheikdoms to rend
Scourge of terror to blight all that western values defend
Sharia law to govern Middle East; Allah's dividend
Great Satan's engine to throttle
Region's fealty to bottle
Suicide pilots struck the monuments we coddle
Gratuitious shards and blood stains did the landscape mottle
President Bush promised swift revenge
Ordered Taliban to stop Osama's bloody binge
Mullah Omar reneged; Bushes' saber rattling had a malodorous tinge
U.S forces did the Taliban's quarters singe
Alquaida's overseas operations are diminished
But Alquaida's mission not finished
Alquaida cells in Iraq, Afghanistan bravely battle, mettle distinguished
Nevertheless, the infidel forces not extinguished
Gitmo detainees probed for information
Trite torture brought about stunning reformation
Stressed warrior's fealty to leader declined in isolated station
Under duration, divulged details about Bin Laden's method of operation
Osama's couriers cover blown
Seeds for fruitful harvest are sown
Courier's redoubt canvassed with satellite, drone
Intelligence on compound, residents CIA did hone
Calculated risk; Navy Seals in choppers did alight
Flying quietly with fiery portents into the calm night
Hoping the briny tentacles of terror to blight
Cresting over the shadowy compound; objective in sight
Down the dangling ladders vigilant Seals did repel
Into the throes of darkness descending into the mouth of hell
Perimeter defense, early warning signals were of no avail
Osama's stunned tenants could only stand fast or bail
Each obstacle, human shield the Seals did meticulously fell
Carefully following the trail to the Holy Grail
Entering Osama's room, rending the sacral veil
The caged warrior with precision did shell
Osama's dead body packed in a unmarked crate
Transported vicariously to lab, identity to equate
Identity confirmed; vigilant menace had met his fate
Un-consecrated remains tossed into sea; watery tomb his final estate
ENTIRETY
knowing
precision
&
time entire
shapes
impressed
& influenced
by
added colour
appears
to overcome
the intricate
&
replicate
those images
in
close
proximity
over
&
over again
so dedicated
to the
particular
with hopes
so small
&
to stress
experience
in an
occasional word
to
shy
gentle
solitary
kindred spirits
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
...a newly single woman speaks)
I had a love and his love was beating in my heart
And though it was possible physical
It wasn't enough there, there was no spiritual part
And though I found a way per se
We lived to bond in a way
We co-created children together
Yet life still didn't get any better
He had fallen by the way side
So alone we be separated alone
...a outsider a dear man listens comments)
Oh, my sister blessed sister be not ashamed but be a tone
Your life with him though non resonating
Your heart is still not your home
For there is a man who has a better plan
And sometimes it's best to include him
For this we must confess with God and Jesus,
In a man's life anyone else you choose you may lose
My single sister you need not a perfect mister
You don't need a perfect man
But a sinner man who's repentant and tries one who praises
God is the best one to have
One to treat you like a Queen not like an animal or a thing
A man whom you must follow BUT ONLY as HE FOLLOWS CHRIST
You are God's daughter and angelic perfect being
And no less you need to be bless
SO if you reenter into a new relationship
Take along God's Son Jesus
Together you and Christ pray on it
There is no perfect man to be found and yet
in the precision of choices lust should not be bound
Let love abide forgiveness and caring protecting and sharing owning up to oneself
to be a blessing not a curse
This is the most you can hope for a loving man who comes to find you
and only you and nothing and no one else
A man whose looking for His blessing from God
And you who are searching stop looking he will come to you stand still in your truth
And yet my sister if this Mister doesn't appear
You are not alone you still have Jesus Christ
What's meant to be shall be and if by chance you're going to be lonely
You're not alone for God is forever with thee
2/25/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
A signature move
A classical look
Whether shopping down town
Or just reading a book
You would never undress
That space round your neck
A gent to the last
A quick twizzle and check
Your knots were so tidy
All shapely and neat
A full Windsor for sure
Always sharp and replete
Never unkempt
Was the message you'd send
The Master of Ties
Straight and true 'til the end
I think you'd be proud
Of the honour we shared
With the people you loved
All your laughter unspared..
Never straight laced
Always happy to chat
A man of the people
We'll all give you that
So your ties now recline
In dozens of places
Bringing smiles flooding back
To the beautiful faces
All regaled by your joy
You generous man
We'll hold on to your style
Whenever we can
Not just silky adornment
Bought from Burton or Next
A legacy deeper
Like a mirror reflects
All the military style
All the gentle precision
You have captured our hearts
With no need for revision
It's with pride we remember
Those your neckline once flattered
For your love will remain
As your ties they are scattered
With the people you cared for
Not just few but so many
For you touched us all deeply
Far much more so than any
There are times in a mans life when he knows he's the best
This is the time his mind and body are undoubtedly the hardest
He's focused more then ever on the tasks at hand
Making him shown as one hard man
When he endures punishment both physically and mentally
Showing his primal side in the face of his enemy
His heart pumps in a rapid course
Disregarding his weakness showing no remorse
A time when all his beliefs become fully released
Unleashing his rage like a caged beast
Precision and finesse in his movements are revealed
When gauging his trespasses on the battle field
Beaten, stabbed, ridiculed and humiliated are his burdens
During his youth as a streetwalking urchin
Bearing and strength come as and easy action
When dealing with pain of any faction.
To this my friend is a hard, hard man
Living in a kingdom of a unruly land
Form:
A pro bowler is not thought of as a precision performer
Laying a 16-pound ball in the exact same spot
Over and over again, as many as 300 times a day
Morning, afternoon and evening for weeks on end
Nor is he deemed a disciplined practitioner of his trade
His temperament even, with a mindset honed to forever
Look forward to the next frame, to the next challenge
No matter that the spare he just failed to pick up cost him dearly
His has not the cunning of a geometry-savvy billiards player
Who knows all the angles on every lane, the dips and
The curves, and even the effect of the temperature and
The barometric pressure on the way his ball will roll
He is not feted as a brave warrior, who subjects his rolling elbow
To incredible amounts of torque over the course of a career
Which can easily span three or more decades of battling tenpins...
No, he is just the man-child next door living out his youthful dreams
Cobwebs cling to memories, whisper in the gloom,
Once vibrant threads of knowledge, shrouded in a tomb.
Skills like dusty treasures, hidden from the light,
Yearning for a touch, a chance to take flight.
A sculptor's hand, with practiced, steady grace,
Carved dreams in marble, a masterpiece in place.
Lines flowed with precision, a language understood,
Each chip is a testament to passion's fortitude.
Now, brittle fingers tremble, the chisel feels so strange,
Muscles long unused, a memory's fading range.
Regret, a serpent's hiss in the attic's hold,
"What ifs" that echo, stories yet untold.
Across the hall, a dancer's form takes flight,
A whirlwind of delight, a radiant, joyous sight.
Years etched in grace, a sculptor of her own,
Each movement speaks of dedication sown.
Heed the whispers, darling, before the embers fade,
Rekindle passion's flame, the skills you once displayed.
The mind, a fertile ground, thrives with constant care,
And dormant talents blossom when you dare.
Let not the attic's silence claim the vibrant you,
Embrace the journey's call, the lessons ever new.
For the human spirit soars on wings of practiced might,
And every challenge faced, a beacon burning bright.
The Holy Dust of Creation’s Seed Sown
Born from this ancient dust of creation's seed sown now so true,
Whilst sparkling inside a mystical divine light on this dark night,
I’m nourished from the living waters—the oceans deep and blue.
Majestic wings rise high in the waves basking in Heaven’s light,
Crowning the blest halo golden ring around this angel very dear,
Whilst I kiss warmly the salt of the deep oceans stirring at night.
Spiced now in a seabed, a rainbow’s gem shineth pure so clear,
That a traveler in this radiant world of delight knows real love
Is what we all seek as sparkling diamonds now appear so near.
Where the rivers flow down a mountain’s verdant slope because
There, in the highs and lows of these rivers, tears soak the Earth,
Falling and rising from the dust, ashes are memories of what was.
I have abounding faith in this life’s bond as Nature begins her rebirth,
Eclipsed by a peerless beauty inside, wild passions grown now strong.
A liquid sphere appears in our mortal lives reaching its point of girth.
In the cerulean oceans mystic gulls cry deep echoes bringing us along.
We find peace kneeling as a psychic mantel covers our thoughts pure,
As that special circle of brilliance radiates within life’s treat so strong.
By God’s hand the ancient dust of creation’s seed is with us to assure,
Mankind’s perpetuity on Earth as part of His most holy divine vision.
Only God knows mankind’s destiny rests in His divine hands for sure.
The ancient dust of creation’s seed is part of God’s omnipotent precision,
For He’s the one who shall guide us all heavenward by His final decision.
Gary Bateman, Michael Clarke, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 10, 2017 (Terza Rima)
Terza Rima Rhyming Sequence: aba bcb cdc ded efe fgf ghg hh
Format Note: This poem employs the traditional rhyming scheme used by
Dante Alighieri in “The Divine Comedy,” ending with a couplet, rhyming
with the previous tercet’s middle line.