Long Proclamations Poems
Long Proclamations Poems. Below are the most popular long Proclamations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Proclamations poems by poem length and keyword.
The Sun rises...
I know the supposed science
of light,
bips and wavy lines of
pulsed propagation
like a heart
like emotions~
how human feelings start
and stop, the forward/backward of time --
the morning news
our repeated proclamations
stagnation and regressive
signatures, announced and printed
shouted over electronic airways
man’s modern-day gazettes
dawn’s transparent lush
on my face,
I admire and study –
the brushwork of gleams~
patterns of my traveled summits
and depressions indented
zebra primrose blossoming, in short
what love created such marvelous
striations? Say ye a God~ surely even
the moron
in glaring absence of other proof
would not guess less?
Him/Her? Our Blessed Hermaphrodite
of sentient-being creating, of morphing-realms
unending evolving
salacious advances of life mating,
entangling, imparting fond mysteries --
lips of roses unfurling, curling, inviting
nearer breaths for uninhibited exploration –
such exposure awakens and sleeps
yet we sense beyond-maturity
delve the wizard behind the curtain
all us Dorothys
trying to find a true way home
imaginable, at least a steady firmament though we
slip precipitously – My thought, to dust, clean and change
the sheets, as a new warmth attempts to re-freshen
recover nature’s veiled cycles our nightly often deeply
staining retreats
So many ways to say one thing
More than one way to turn pawn to king
Too many turns to the grocery store
Which turn shall I take?
Countless words to choose from
From sunrise to sunset
Too many ends to be met
With no end
So many ways to say one thing
How will I say this?
The paralysis of perfection pours
A whisper at first
Drown out by the delusion of desirability
Preserved in acid proclamations of praise
Beating echoes in snowy peaks
Peaking in phrases veiled in value
Pouring
Heavy
Heavy
Heavy
On the mountaintop
Failure
Failure
Failure
One weakened layer causing seismic shifts
Elephant echoes fragmenting snowy ideals
Triggering avalanches of lost identity
Slabs of fallen promises break loose
Forming a track of forbidden truth
Too much weight bids perilous
Useless words of compliment
Descend to a suffocating
Ignominious demise
Plagued by tiny
Thoughts of
Fading
Perf
ect
io
n
It is so easy to blame others
for being hurt, stressful situations,
bad decisions that others made
yet, a small voice is telling you
that you contributed to the mess
A life fully lived is a life that is not
clean and perfect like you see on
social media and Christmas cards.
It is full of pain, hurt, and ugly words
exchanged by people who love each other
Yet, life should also be full of encouragement,
proclamations of love, dwelling on happy
moments and finding joy in the journey
and even in the pain. A day can be
ruined by painful words or made by a glorious sunset
I want to be someone who can see past the pain
and hurt to the imperfect heart of those I love.
I was hoping that I was already there,
but I am still evolving into a person that
truly loves others, including those who hurt me.
who left trail of heartbroken sage woman
commander in chief deliberately stoked,
née sparked long
simmering smoldering, and stewing
long festering white supremacist altercation
fiendishly igniting racial conflagration
exploding during late spring 2020.
No matter no child left behind kibitzing
(yours truly as boy plucked petals
off daisy reciting "she loves me,"
"she loves me not"...
cupid loosed an arrow
into boyhood neighborhood sweetheart
she innocently bespoke
"I wanna marry you,"
when uttered courtesy Sherry Jones,
a little girl who lived
approximately three doors down
along cul-de-sac within Apple Valley
perpendicular to Lantern Lane,
or more age apropos,
when young gallivanting
purported vestal virgin ladies
nonverbally signalled
libidinal proclamations of emancipation,
as demurely expressed
lest unlucky (chaste into)
precocious phallic proclivity
suffered the punishment
of being buried alive.
Now back to present day,
when our old geezer,
the prototype garden variety
male of present poem -
any resemblance between general referenced
fella and living persons purely coincidental.
He (yours truly) easily qualified as
overly cocky whippersnapper,
i.e. young buck and/or Casanova wannabe
experienced bit torrent
hormonal secretions gushed
particularly in close proximity
wherein wafted pheromones -
think a waif faring ingénue.
As evident and quite obvious,
I fabricate (prevaricating
my signature trademark)
rather than stating bland reality stark,
yet will plainly explain issue
in summary essential rhyme
without reason constitutes
nothing more spectacular than
garden variety generic pockmark
excised pustule ofttimes hallmark
of teenage/ pubescent pimply benchmark.
In a space that should hum with focus,
Where thoughts flow like ink on paper,
I walk the halls, and what do I hear?
The clatter of egos—loud, brash,
A symphony of insecurity,
Each voice a drum pounding louder,
Drowning out the quiet rhythm of real productivity.
Oh, the harshness of noise!
Your chatter like chainsaws,
Hacking away the sweet silence,
The sanctuary where ideas bloom.
Conversations compete like wild animals,
Roaring for attention,
But who’s listening?
Who's doing it?
I can’t hear my thoughts,
Lost beneath the weight of your bravado,
Your anecdotes, your grand proclamations,
About deadlines, met and spreadsheets conquered,
But all I see is the façade,
The show of work,
Not the act of working.
It’s an orchestra of distraction,
A cacophony of competition,
Where silence is a crime,
And whispers are for the weak.
But listen!
True strength speaks softly,
In the space between breaths,
In the echo of contemplation.
But here you are,
Standing tall, voice raised,
As if volume equates to value
As if the loudest in the room
It is the most productive.
It’s a mask you wear,
But I see behind it—
Just shadows, just noise,
Just the harshness of insecurities masked as power.
We chase the clock,
Tapping away, thinking,
We’re winning some races,
But it's not a marathon,
It’s a serenade,
A melody of purpose,
And you’re just playing the wrong tune.
So, let’s pause.
Lower the volume,
Tune down the tumult,
And Let the silence reign
In this kingdom of commerce.
Let whispers be the wings of ideas,
Let the quiet be our battle cry,
For in the stillness, we create,
In the calm, we conquer—
Let’s reclaim the space
From the harshness of noise.
Let’s work with purpose,
Let’s make a change—
Because the loudest voice
It doesn't always win,
Sometimes it’s the softest,
The most profound,
That ignites the fire
Of true creation.
May 12 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on 2Chronicles 9-12
Key Verse – 2Chronicles 9:8 Blessed be the LORD thy God, which delighted in thee to set thee on his throne, to be king for the LORD thy God: because thy God loved Israel, to establish them for ever, therefore made he thee king over them, to do judgment and justice.
PRAISE BE TO GOD
WHO DELIGHTS IN US AND IN OUR FAITH
Praise be to God for delighting in us and in our faith:
Giving us His salvation wealth
Granting us His Scriptural wisdom
Governing us with His sovereign will
Guarding us through His sanctifying Word
Guiding us along His steadfast and wondrous ways
2Chronicles 10:15 Praise be to the Lord for warning us
against not hearkening to His Word; thus, we should be:
Directed to listen to His truth-precepts
Desirous to learn from His trusted promises
Delighted as we love His tested proclamations
Disciplined to live according to His trustworthy proofs
Determined as we are led by His tremendous principles
2Chronicles 11:4 Praise be to the Saviour
for instructing us to obey His words so we can:
Fight foes valiantly
Find His fulfillment visibly
Flee from fruitlessness validly
Fortify His fueled faith victoriously
Forsake fright with His freedom, not vainly
2Chronicles 12:6 Praise be to the Almighty
for reiterating to us that He is the righteous LORD Who:
Pardons our sinfulness
Purifies us from selfishness
Protects us by His seal of settlement
Props our stewardship with His standard
Promotes us for our sincere servanthood. Amen!
May 12, 2024
As the curtain
falls to pool,
a silent reverie
falls to ground
Amputated in
thralls hold,
the bereft
wandered
in Netherlands,
subsisting
on remembered be-fores,
spotlights and sweat-ed
applause
‘Break a leg’
is what they say
but diminished spirits
from crushing critics
ever smashing
to review,
all hope,
dashed
and newspapers
flutter on fences,
cruel proclamations
and opinions
now today’s
garbage,
remembering
ones discontent
Ringing from cords
while lungs grasp for air,
and in the rapture
of feeling
is the glamour,
of one string
feathering to vibrate,
all dimensions
of time
In claps of applause
are leads of rapture,
now connected,
the universes
symphony
starts transmitting
Black curtains
in time,
opened to infinity
and applause
reverberated,
in One
Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism,
this lifetime skeptic now tenuously
linkedin with Unitarianism
attests, said upbringing proffered,
mine credo, gestalt,
leitmotif, sans abstractionism
eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification...
some readers might
dismiss as absurdism
defying established dogma fixed absolutism
millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical,
and such cavalier blithe
apostasy, declared alarmism,
now - twenty first century
extant accursed as alcoholism
within various non
Western statecraft enclaves,
barely tolerating agnosticism
no fool to ejaculate
proclamations antithetical opinionism
where condemnation to death
(I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept)
inadequate punishment,
cited on par relegated to alienism,
amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism...
never does this anachronism
loosely cabled with pioneerism,
(when virgin forests bedecked America),
a veritable wilderness, necessitated
quintessential self survivalism
knowhow long since forgot,
which dependence on consumerism
finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism
commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera
more aligned with reliance on individualism
nearly an extinct species,
where anti materialism
betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism,
versus profit motive maximization,
though of late environmental dynamism
aggressive representative thank you
Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism,
nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism
mandating staunch defeatism
as stave bulwark
against criminal determinism
to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism
predicated on tenets of egocentrism
brewed, steeped, and
galvanized in exceptionalism
of *****sapiens and expansionism
exclusive to said primate
that requires serious assessment,
asper bracketing craven
doctrinairism edified fundamentalism
granting humans unfettered expansionism!
He was told he was gifted at an age of ten,
Gifted in every subject that he had.
His mum said he would become a prodigy,
He would be an intellectual nomad.
Shifted to the next year group sitting on a throne,
He expected never to be beat.
Expecting people to know he was always right,
Becoming a false cerebral athlete.
But then he left school for uni. and a hurdle,
The hurdle: study, falling fast, falling hard.
The next ten years a turmoil of fails,
No worship, only honesty, honesty that scarred.
Now he’s a know it all bricklayer,
Building taj mahal, in the back of people’s homes.
Preaching his righteous proclamations,
Proudly preaching to the fairies and gnomes.
Consequence
by Michael R. Burch
They are fresh-faced,
not innocent, but perhaps not yet jaded,
oblivious to time and death,
of each counted breath
in the pendulum’s sway
falling unheeded.
They are bright, undissuaded
by foreign tongues,
by sepulchers empty and waiting,
by sarcophagi of ancient kings,
by proclamations,
by rituals of scalpels and rings.
They are sworn, they are fated
to misadventure and grief;
but they revel in life
till the sun falls, receding
into silent halls
to torrents of inconsequential tears . . .
. . . to brief tragedies of tears
when they consider this: No one else sees.
But I know.
We all know.
We all know the consequence
of being so young.
Keywords/Tags: youth, youths, youth day, innocence, innocent, time, life and death, young, childhood, child, children