Long Prologue Poems
Long Prologue Poems. Below are the most popular long Prologue by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prologue poems by poem length and keyword.
One night while slumbering in my bed
thoughts were floating 'round my head,
that tinged my heart and singed my soul
with effervescent, gleaming gold.
Whispering through the darkened air
"You know you're on the right road there,"
where eagles fly and clouds drift by
and angels sing sweet lullabies.
Where a full moon shines like a silver pearl
and the universe dances like a little girl,
and all the matter in planets and stars
sing "Praise the Mighty Maker" from near and far.
And history past and future days
line up together in sun and shade,
in one long sweeping saga song
"The past is prologue, here and gone."
And other things that we can't comprehend
are drifting high up in the winds,
for us to catch and hold on to
when the time is right for me and you.
Until then, hold on to those most dear
while letting go of pointless fears,
for tomorrow when the new day shines
we're that much closer to a pristine paradigm.
Then she French kissed LizPiggo and publicly scolded the young Chinese server for not making extra sale?
The young lady scribbled her phone number on
napkin and gave it to Gus looking over her shoulder
to the old hag seeming approval. Along with phone number it read, HELP!
Gus thought to himself, maybe the spirits were
speaking through this girl, wanting the help
only he could provide. He winked a James Bond
kind of wink and strolled out like he swallowed
one of his grandmother's pills.
Which he went ahead and did.
The ride one block to home was arduous.
Both stomachs full. LizPiggo was wailing
from inside the backpack. I have to shiiiit!
She whined. Oooo the backpack isn't big enough,
she explained, as a warning. Gus examined the
sturdy zipper and his options, he only had a pair of binoculars for peeping on the neighbor lady in
there which would be easy to clean.
He set his mind on greater things. He needed to do a seance!
Gus stood there in his urine and realized two things,
number one he was already hungry again and two
that LizPiggo ate the leftovers. And three,
"I can't have a seance on an empty stomach.
That's how people become possessed!
Not gonna happen. Not to this guy!"
Gus had been meaning to try the other Chinese
restaurant down the street. This would be the perfect opportunity. He was somewhat not filthy, so he
wouldn't have to bathe. He stole 50 dollars from his
Great Aunt's purse, for just such an occasion.
It was like destiny or something. Gus imagined all the possibilities on the way. On how things were lining up for him in a non coincidental manner. First the hunger, somewhat not filthiness, then the money.
It seemed fate had waited long enough. Would this
be the day he transformed? He didn't know.
It certainly appeared that way. He looked around from the corners of his eyes, to soak in the day's possible
signs. Non chalantly, so as not to seem like he was begging for the powers that be, to crown him.
Once and for all!
Before long Gus had chained his bike 15 times
around the golden dragon that harbinged the
storefront and he made his way inside cautiously
expecting a hag ninja to spring out of a planter
or bench or maybe, there she was directly behind
him with a scale to weigh him and his pockets !....
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A beaver bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
"It was a beautiful whore of a day", he reasoned, "maybe she will have even less on !"
The little band of misfits garnered the stares of mall patrons as they ran as fast as their puppet legs could manage, (without being high on a coke/steroid cocktail, called a Dynobowl). (There was also blood doping, which consisted of shooting up minute amounts of plasma), but they had no time for bloodsport. They were gonna be a bloodspurt, if Michael caught up to them and with his Tri-Lam athletics background that would happen sooner than later. They needed "a plan" and fast !
Kenny the drug dealer and Silky the 44th street pimp looked around for contacts, as did Penney, it was instinct. There had to be a "John or a hoodlum" there somewhere, after all, it was the mall. A family place for shopping,
pictures, waves to friends and tight lipped hookers (if they knew what was good for them). Then there was a place to sit and eat where Mom and Dad could argue in front of the entire mall. Johnny could show under the table to Lucy what he stole and she could show what she stole. Whomever had the biggest total (in cost!) wins. However, a belt made out of the "booty" automatically added five points. What? Those are the rules, (I didn't invent them).
Form:
An international battlefield was scheduled this year
Postponed due to an invisible fear
A misunderstood sensitive diplomatic situation
Displaying theatrical health care patients
Put off an artistic war
Where the death toll is replaced by a game score
As we interpret what really happened
Hopefully continuing peaceful dialogue with Japan
Remember when things were just all right
Written prologue not aware of a global viral fight
Qualifications had begun
Being an athletic sample seemed entrepreneur and fun
But word got out
Things were cancelled without any doubt
Soon a decision was made
Before educators were able to hand out final grades
Dr. Godzilla put its foot down
Destroying every sporting peaceful village, city and town
Colorful rings will not be interlocking
Timers stopped their clocking
No one will be handled a medal
Apparently this mass hysteria has its foot on the pedal
For the first time
There will be a mature odd number on the promotional line
As a substitute representation
Confirming the biological weapon war who is facing
Based on resentment
Challenging trusting encampment
Is there a wide world message lurking around?
Waiting for a sponsor to be picked up, discovered and found
Planned right
Olympics will light
A torch real bright
Translating the reminder killing does not solve the problem
Of I got them
Instead positive conversation is when
To stop something before a wrong button is pressed send
And this boundless moment arrives
For late noon’s sunset to drop its glimmer--
In one final hour, the immense ray succumbs
Clutching with it a vastness, brilliant;
And the hue of moonshine daintily peeps,
That through sky’s tableau, a portrait hangs low
While this juncture between daytime and evening
Invites me to render a prayer of hope,
As the red-gold sundown chants mildly
From its final dip to hum: “ Radiate within!"
Upon the prologue of a time, I ache ;
For sunset’s immense beauty vanishing
Red- orange like a mantle, widespread,
Now all flushed under city quay's bed
Leaving me in tears as it slowly drowns.
Broken Wing's Form V - Verse Me A Poem
10/2/2017
"Shades"
You shade me
I shade you
stops the sun burning
eternally through
long nights’ deep bleed
the blue birds lead the way;
"definitely no more flowers",
you say.
I say, "fancy some
foxgloves?"
You say, "Slinky opera-like?"
I say, "No way, Prospero
digitalis are us
behind eyes that pray."
Just for good measure
I say,
"I’m not Miranda,
I’m Prospera,
by the way,
my high charms work,
and these my enemies
are all knit up in their
distractions, they are
now in my power.
I hear tell that
Hell is now empty
and all the devils are here."
"I believe you", you say,
"digitalis ready
lead the way."
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it”
“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.”
“We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again.
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.”
“I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book.”
“Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.”
[Prologue: in both a secular and spiritual sense we are all lost one way or another at one time or another. The need to escape or at least lessen the pain this brings can be 'self-medicated' with drink or drugs or materialism or even egotism-- the sense that one is better, smarter, prettier than others. History shows when a people or a country is lost, it can result in war, either civil or external. For myself, I have found healing by turning to a Power far greater than myself, far, far greater than anyone could possibly conceive.]
POEM FOR A LOST SOUL
Now I understand--
I can never be complete
within myself: without You,
my emotions betray me,
my mind counteracts itself.
Hope will flee me,
despair will eat me
unless I reach for...
with a child's open arms.
dear readers
let me be an invitee to read these files
about the same place where you live but
chose to live in complete denial
don't be a traitor, don't ignore the cries
this place gave you oxygen, water, air and
every source meant for your survival
even in the adversity of times
dear readers
our house is on fire, the ice is melting
you're breathing smoke, and million species at risk
and each day a new revelation in these files
the man who drink champagne after
signing deals that harm your land
he lives in a palace built by his greed
while the future generations search for their place
My regrets lie hidden below the murky surface
of my emotional seascape,
threatening to pull me down,
like wet woollen wet weather gear
drowns a sailor who falls overboard in a storm.
For regrets are arcane debts never to be repaid.
For the done, cannot be unpicked re-done, nor undone,
and getting over it, needs an account transaction,
to balance the debt, with savings from the good times.
I seldom count my regrets, nor mention them in balance sheet.
For many are too painful to bear, even one at a time.
Going back, reliving the prologue, is a bitter aperitif
to the main course of 'What ifs' dished up with 'If Only' sauce.