Long Proponent Poems
Long Proponent Poems. Below are the most popular long Proponent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Proponent poems by poem length and keyword.
Perhaps like a lightning
bolt of clear out of the blue
rigor mortis (tenon and
three decades hence)
two thousand fifty nine if you
count from January 13th 2019, adieu
attest that day 9 months I did brew
in wound (of the late Harriet Harris),
now finds me loved ones
crying boo hoo,
after this stiff mortal
Earthling bid toodle loo
with symbolic casket
(carrying cremated urn of ashes)
remembrance attended
by gentile and Jew
sharing positive memories purportedly
about this nondescript
fellow they knew
mainly indirectly, poignantly,
and wickedly shot thru
with his insightful humorous scribblings,
plus magnus opus titled
"How do ye do,"
an informal rambling missive bereft
of any subject and
devoid with little clue,
the purpose of said hefty tome
out weighing The Federalist circa: knew
lee after American independence
Papers, written by true
purrs under the pseudonym "Publius"
but great (as a great doorstop), or
alight as tinder for barbeque
since many admirers never
read his text written in Hebrew,
fluency acquired spending
final years he grew
old, since automatic citizenship
granted based on genetic goo
plus Mediterranean climate helped promote
longevity to century his health did hew
thus naturally pronounced philosophy,
where he drew
quite a wide web asper the many
claims Matthew Scott did eschew
to maintain longevity (more
quackery than science), but who
could dispute glorious
principles, not to poo poo
analogous to placebo effect
harmless fervent coping methods,
whether to cure ague
interestingly enough he cited ack hue
puncture for a gamut of physical ills
as well he did advocate chew
wing food (after taking small bites)
until mouthful became pulpy slew
(proponent of Fletcherism), this to
exercise dentures in addition
to maximize stew
pen diss experience of simple
routine eating view
wing thoroughly good (by George)
said quotidian activity grew
tubby spiritual, similarly basic
functions in general did get skew
ward whereby meditation on intrinsic,
metabolic and scholastic
processes to name a few
added a dimension of enhancement prior to
exiting life into frontier mortals can only rue.
She no longer wears a habit, our nun.
Does this make her less holy?
Certainly not.
She has been called penguin, our nun.
By those who have not been called to serve
And are confused by her faith.
She does not seek extra attention, fortune or fame.
She works selflessly
Helping others
She spends her life mothering children not of her loins
But all God’s children, for she believes we all are.
Sometimes uplifting them more than their flesh mothers
She works tirelessly, our nun
Even if we are not Catholic, we can claim her.
She belongs to the world, a proponent of Godliness and the trilogy.
Written 5-23-2020
Contest: Nun Poetry Contest – free verse
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Hejama, seventh daughter of a seventh daughter of a Thessaly queen.
A natural proponent of black magic, sorcery, witchcraft and wizardry
Undlela ziimhlope, Aunt Vernafi suggested. An herb you will enjoy.
Hejama did not often take Aunt Vernafi’s advice, but this time she did.
Through necromancy she met a chief goddess, Hecate, Greek legend.
Crossroads between this world and the next. Keeper of Hade’s gates.
Not that one! Hecate would hiss as Hejama rummaged through forests
Seeking plants that could cure rheumatism, arthritis, and flu.
Along the way she regaled and delighted Hejama with mythologies.
Empusae are my children, Hecate revealed. They seduce travelers.
Furies, winged creatures who punished wrong doers, came too.
Fierce hounds traveled into the forest with them, braying loudly.
Hejama felt honored to have Hecate accompany her as her spirit guide.
I witnessed the abduction of Persephone, Hecate confided.
This led to a wonderful tale, as they collected herbs to help others.
Ghostly figures followed Hecate, trying for her attention.
She laughed about this, ignoring them in the day time.
I am a night deity, she told Hejama. I am yours during the day.
An honor only given to a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.
A Republic, getting more Marxist by the minute.
Waiting to see all on Capitol Hill, in Mao
jackets, a most nunique, Communist fit.
Don’t forget us, the people you use.
To lie to us, and use TV and social media
to be a propoganda tool for your views.
Few ...are the Americans who value life.
You, Mr, President, a proponent of world
wide abortion and strife!
This is no surprise , you care little for my
children or my dear wife.
I dream of a Taliban sword removing their
heads with a knife.
Compassion is not a word that will ever
apply to you.
You must be a descendant of those who~
murdered millions of Jews.
I may be killed, along with my family, so,
I want you to know, that you left us
sitting in total fear,on Taliban death row.
I speak to you through a poet’s voice!
If people who read this sit and do nothing,
they leave us with no choice!
I am sure you remember 9/11??
The number us who will be murdered now
is far beyond that times seven.
This is the 9/11 come to return.
Do something, help us before we are
slashed, beheaded, shot or burnt!
8/25/2021
3
3
Meandering Rhythmic Transformations
Imbued by ink attuned to think before my ships about to sink
Reviewed hues of too much to soon leave room for Fred Astaire to croon
Previews of life lived without strife illuminated throughout the night
Subdued reflections of abject detections of realistic injections of true insight
Humility among the labrynths of disguise and misdirection
Tranquility to light the incense of revised prophetic intention
Sensibility to tread lightly in the pretense of denied phrenetic invention
Flexibility to endure the fight among the immense defiant heretical condescension
Correlations of the logical rational minds forming a position to enunciate from
Calculations of the mathematical refines that perform and elucidate their equations upon
Evaluations on the chronological history of mankind to repudiate their names among
Illuminations of an unkempt mind in cosmological separation
Contradictions of emotion pouring through the construct of a screen
Writing fiction as a proponent of the writers written dream
Benedictions of the monks who disown it all while inside they scream
Jurisdictions of the core components of a hideous crime scene
Firmaments of beauty streaming down from the twighlight sky
Permanent polluting brings a tear toward my eye
Determinant souls computing of a man about to die
While the Impermanence is convoluting as the Buddhist nun lets out a sigh
Conspicuous connotations from another superficial influencer
Ridiculous observations that bring official condescenders
Ambiguous abdications from a heavyweight contender
Insideous aberrations from someone trying to defend her
Monumental renditions of a classical concerto
Experimental competitions reading out loud Dante’s Inferno
Elemental inquisitions leaning toward a place where they can only say No
Transcendental acquisitions take me where the river of knowledge seems to flow
The End Elizabeth Moroz Copyright
On Mother's Day.
That Sabbath Day, I put flame to eight candles and knelt down to pray.
I humble myself with fasting to intensify my communication with God who is our all and all.
During that spiritual and very significant time of the morning, I gave our powerful Heavenly Father a call.
So much of the misery of life is in me and I have the weight of my daughter's physical and mental health tormenting my mind.
On that golden day, I was filled with the confidence that God will put someone in our path at the right time.
God is the lamp in my darkness.
God is my consoler during my torment and the booster of calmness.
Previously we were in a meltdown dealing with many healthcare providers with high costs and impassive procedures.
They were unimpressive, obtuse, and unrefined sloths to work at their own leisure.
It was in God's measurement of existence and his most magnificent grace that he sent a radiant helianthus.
It was a transcendental rush.
She entered our home with a wide smile and a sanguine temperament.
She had a stalwart faith in getting things started right away with plans and proficient decisions that she wanted to implement.
Her objective was to provide my daughter with the best comprehensive and viable care plan.
She restored our faith and we became a fan.
She was full of wisdom, yet she was a proponent of sensibility.
She was polished by the grace of God with compassion and empathy.
Like the nature of a helianthus, she would never fold because God is her sun and shield.
In her mien, it is greatly revealed.
When her task is done and it is time for her to say goodbye.
We will miss her, but we will give her a brave smile and sigh.
I will thank our Heavenly Father as I looked to the sky.
If someone would ask, how was she as a provider, we are truly in need, so please tell us.
I will simply say, she is not a weed, but a blessed and beautiful helianthus.
With lank longish hair, of virtue most spare
Hollow cheeked, with joints that creak..An elderly evil proponent of deaths i see there is a reek a pungence of cadavers in such abundance, he knows not where he has buried children a'plenty Grandfathers their
Wives, but then for satan he strives.' He must at least rank as a liutennant skull and
Cross bones on his pennant, a trace of accord..He has trodden the boards floors he is invisible on the black squares.' And will never give up his share.' He mooted for
Guvenor of Gaza, no other i dare could
Show such brass neck.' Of tony blair, who will
Be, no doubt? flexing his ropey old pecs.'
Some days do not go quite the way that you planned;
surprises will often fall right in your lap.
Today, such a day, but all ended quite grand;
inflexible schedules can become a trap.
So did I leave chores on the table undone?
They’ll be there tomorrow; of this I am sure.
My son-in-law and I both worked and had fun;
the rain’s coming soon, but the gutter’s secure.
Plus, as a bonus, I saw all the mayhem,
like Greer getting undressed to race through the yard.
A stray and the watchdog, just hanging out, playin’;
you don’t get much done when you’re laughing so hard.
Although of plans, I’m a general proponent,
life can be sweet when you live in the moment.
Santa’s village was on the edge of reconstruction and renovation.
the elves were excited, they held a parade and massive celebration.
Electronics, cell phones and I-pads are sought by children of today.
The workshop was full of antiquated equipment to toss away.
No one wanted wooden blocks or dolls that talk or wiggle.
They still had a filing cabinet of Barbie dolls that had a giggle.
Super hero items are now the absolute must-have rage.
They needed to delete obsolete toys that never reached a finished stage.
Santa’s reindeers were dancing around all joyful too.
They were on permanent break, for deliveries now came through Lou.
Lou was the head elf, and a big proponent of Amazon Prime.
So the reindeers could lay around and dine, all of the time.
Written: October 05, 2023
___________________________________________________________
Where the paradisiacal angels reside.
A myriad of creatures, ebony and betide
A dinkum dissolute and a discreet divine,
A degree of dexterity, a denizen decline
Amidst the mahatmas and zeitgeist calls,
An indweller quests for lyricism thrall.
A martyrdom route, an incubus chase,
Eristic battles in the realm of grace
A proponent of verity, a wraith of anile,
Sought to indwell the hearts of enamel.
A sip of soma, a savor of seraglio supine,
Agnostic beyond, for the geist did shine.
Destructive metempsychosis, a mortal plight,
Internal battles, seeking inspirational light.
In the realm of the departed, desolate cries
A crybaby tears, but awe-inspiring skies
Departed souls, once heartsick and heartsore,
Find solace in the trust they restore.
For in the internal depths, a spark ignites.
And as the decedents rise, their souls bear flight.
Absolve afreets, the anxiousness abides,
Embrace the beatitude; sublimity resides.
Rawness of a sentimentalist, troubadour song,
The immanence of duende is pantywaist wrong.
In the realm of the spiritual, the snarl of sin,
Is replaced by beatitude, the soul's win.
Spotless and unsullied, cleansed of all pain,
The spiritual journey is the ultimate gain.
They sully the cosmic force with opulence.
Yet, the sunny glow of bliss starts radiance.
A troll in the netherworld, forlornness abounds,
In the cognition of theosophy, the soul rebounds.