Long Proportioned Poems
Long Proportioned Poems. Below are the most popular long Proportioned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Proportioned poems by poem length and keyword.
Car Be Me Car Fast
Car be me car, not you car, car be fast, me be fast in car, me fast
Go left car go left.
Car be fast go left all day
500 laps, car be fast, laps go fast
Me car go fast
Win cup with car be fast
Get milk, when car go circle fast, go left
Other determining factors in auto racing are
Quantum balance, stream line vehicular shape, and grace
Rotate tires for proportioned stops and maneuvering power
Due diligence, judicious use of space while racing
Decreased velocities at corners
There is no time for second place
No stop signs, by design, on racing days
Only a subtle touch of gas and brakes
A discerning mind to optimize the vehicles potential in this venture
Speed fuels the need for high adventure
Surrounding the circular path as the masses gasp and scream
So comprehend, surmise the cutting edge, turn left
Eloquently traverse the course with an exotic flare
Settle smartly, land right there, in winner’s circle
Car be fast, me be fast, but me come in last
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini."
- Jack Freestone
Grounded in gender
A slave to testosterone
Driven by primal feral instinct
Dormant remains our soul
Heart not yet love inked
Now, a girl in a bikini
Who is well proportioned
Is no doubt pleasing to the eye
Yet what’s seen is outer form
Perishable and hence a lie
Let us correct parallax
Looking at spirit, not body
God’s light shines within us all
Mere dust is organic form
Who we are, let’s recall
The question, ‘who am I’
Compels us to look deeper
If we be silent by day and night
We be and so in time become
God’s essence: living light
The Tangled Flower Garden
The garden, so meticulously planted,
Enriched with mulch, and carefully proportioned,
Pleases the eye with colour and assortment
But resorts to chaos when left unattended.
Nature abhors the hand’s uniformity,
Demanding a mess of the plurality.
Each species struggles for dominance to survive
(Between plant and weed or whatever else one finds)
For nutrients and sunlight to bloom and attract bees
For pollination and propagation of its kind.
The apple tree’s branches shade the jungle below
(Which is littered with various flowers and growths)
From the elements, essential for their survival
In the tangled flower garden environment.
The Last Consummation
Hello. Good evening. Nice to see you.
It is always good to have someone to talk to,
especially now in my waning years,
as Death is softly playing the piano in the next room.
The piece he is playing is nearly over.
I know this because I have lived a long time in the shadows.
I have talked to dying faces many times,
with the same quiet melodies playing in the background;
they are like old friends who never change.
They stay loyal and refuse to believe the lies being said about you.
They speak up for you on your behalf,
watching your back even when you’re wrong.
Such apparitions do exist I am told,
as there are many who profess to have seen and known them.
But I have not known any such person, or melody.
They are mythical creatures that have thrived in a former age,
lassoed in by the Sun God for an afternoon’s pleasure with tiny animals.
These eminent beings who will stand by you when all have departed;
these are the rare honest ones, the decidedly wise ones,
all proportioned with a gutsy backbone that is unbreakable,
durable as the dubious winter grass at solstice time,
and as honorable as one’s bloodline amongst the masses,
Can you hear the million shouting voices?
They find deaf ears, and a million frozen stares,
in the last consummation.
You invited me to bring
some object of great regard,
And so I present My Body.
A marvelous sensory object
perfect in so many feeling ways
I dare not count
or shout
or flout it through my days.
Unlike my home
where some rooms I like
just as and where they are
and others could be larger
or a wee bit smaller,
and further back or front,
less up and more down
to better accommodate this perfectly aging body,
All my inside parts are perfectly placed,
even my mealtime's exhaustive plumbing space,
I've grown systemically proportioned,
and synergetic'ly refunctioned,
integrally ecologized with marvelous winning grace
and apparent co-relational ease of pace,
although dis-ease does threaten inside grief
as outside gratitude
to leave room for younger climate minds
with more positive attitude;
Who healthy best remember
this cherished
chiseled
rich robust EarthBody.
My garden would be magnificent
if as organically functioned
as my organs
and my digits
and my senses of magical sight
and sound
and tasty touch and feeling
good wealth object-ives for lunch this day.
I mention house and garden
because these objects, too,
I cherish
and yet they feel less sacred,
worthy of awe and wonder from you
than this body
which I usually cover up,
especially when going out for lunch,
unless you would rather that I not?
Perhaps you would prefer
I had brought what's left of my right mind,
to more objectively share,
critically compare;
Rather than leave this gloriously embodied self
wide open
for your most remarkably startled stare,
Which was my original nutritional intent, you see
before you asked me,
To bring a specific icon,
my most noble ancient object
worthy of our admiring subjective glare.
And now in closing
I must confess
this body's shy performance
finds life easier to bear
by imagining your well-seated bodies
in nothing less or more than underwear.
I drained life of its fullness...
not pricing its worthiness,
leaving nicks in the prime of youth:
deceitful tricks to ignore every truth.
I imitated parody to conceal identity,
thus making it forgery my priority;
and the masked nobleman acted out his
infamous burlesque play, ridiculing Fay...
knowing that her unrhymed lines
were intently borrowed from clowns,
not from gifted writers with clever minds;
did they bray when they were blamed for the delay?
My intent was not a merited Godsent or lofty thought
perceived by a gladiator who held the wilt
of his sword proportioned to his solid built,
but rather ridden by a guilt which had a powerful force to jilt
me when I was reduced to tears by my peers for my peculiar tilt.
Written on 12/12/2016
Does Nox hold sway where you sit or lay,
or stand blanketed in deep fog's clime?
Where perfectly proportioned physical deformity holds
in substantive and coddled awe' sublime.
Shrouded in shot from fusil's beautiful dark pall,
far from heredity's nameless and shameless hall.
We walked as friends, along a stoney ledge
talking of women and lofty soul's reprisal'd pledge.
Wore separate clothes, to separate mothers
we cling'd,
free of our father's shadow at last.
Yet in time..
if your beliefs differ from mine
will you still call me brother?
We are so few since wreck and ruin,
should hate ever.,
take us away one another.
I'd never turn against, you have my word,
no matter the seizur'd absence of mind.
For it held strong our promised bond,
and for it,
prefer neck to the sword.
No crowning achievement in sorrows my truth,
faithful friendship strong as any belief,
more than life it's a simple us I hold to.,
for w'out us there'd be no more we.
A hand of sand in spectrum of flow of time,
ministering thoughts by simple pantomime.
So many sand-curies it has been,
and dessert hills moved gently keen.
Caravans slow vicissitude by blow of wind,
seasick on a camel ride pinned.
Motion rise and sink in endless obscure,
sensuous dunes proportioned contour.
Wandering aimless not by imagination,
creating landscapes of ancient preparation.
Illumed wilderness same same horizon,
only more sand for pilgrimage compromising.
The oasis coming in confident of fate,
to resolute the heart before it is to late.
Have we passed that shimmering crystal tower?
coming closer to the counting passing hour.
Gazing up and escaping these narrow walls,
the shifting sand and its sustaining falls.
This little golden thread dilate into column plain,
pursuing my thoughts regardless the time in vain.
A world too small for times in loving ponder,
timeless appreciation and all its precious wonder.
It is thy wanton gestures that contrive inside long auburn
curls -
Wherefore to diminish the pleas of a warm, lustful
breeze!
For though gilded rays shall grace all thy sunlit days
Tis Moonstrucks cast beams, your mischiefs,
That did so deceive.
Happily ye wander through Midnights velvet vales...
Thus to bathe in the still of deep glades shimmering pools;
Gently smile as the White Hart confuses at the Nightjar,
Laugh joyfully as he gleefully barks within a Huntresses
muse.
Whence, entwining abouts your lithe-liken limbs,
Enchanting currents that confound upon like curvaceous
streams:-
Flawlessly proportioned, highbred, temperate form
Of palest earthborn Athenian figurine.
And ere those coy sighs should but just once countenance
Mortal compromise
Through your countless ages of fair queens and fabled kings -
Then, at some singular point in trickling sands spatial time,
If my heart beat against thine...wouldst thy charge me astride
Great Pegasusus wings?
So recline thou, betwixt sharp earth and Heavens eternal
skies,
Thoust art serenaded by forlorn winds that forsakenly
Beseech upon your divine name -
For the raging fires of burning stars were lit to blaze
In thine eyes
By thee fearful architect who moulded immortal clay
To thy perfectly sculptured frame!
Why are you looking so ?
A sketch of fear in your eyes,
An atlas of filthiness on your face,
No sheath in your body.
Nail-teeth wounds of beast
In your breasts, navel,
Even in the courtyard of your wild desire !
Like a withered flower
yellow saree is thrown wrinkled
Beneath your well-proportioned thigh.
Your petal shaped lips seem poisonous,
Wounds of stings visible in your cheeks !
A leaf falls from a young silk-cotton tree !
Tremor everywhere,
Everywhere lamentation of pain
Life-creeper dried up in the central sky,
You are distressed, isolated.
Have you settled up your worldly life
In the mansion of sins ?
What’s this silence
In your empty hands ?
How many times you have returned
Perhaps you know not !
But there’s touch of your finger tips
In leaves, in flowers, in evergreen forests !
I’m with you like your shadow
I’ve kept a sharpened sword always raised
you can’t speak it aloud !
When I held my trivial desires
Think to surrender my heart
in your hands, my damsel –
As much beautiful as you may be,
I never ever feel your proximity
In drunken stormy nights.