Long Propriety Poems
Long Propriety Poems. Below are the most popular long Propriety by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Propriety poems by poem length and keyword.
Propriety
belongs to a
society
as dignity
sings my song strong
individuality
Both benign
characteristics
earned right through
win/win wellness statistics
comparing
individualistic
flawed integrity
of Othering patristics.
Improperly colonizing
militarized monoculturing
choosing bitter
unbetter capitalizing
A worn down path
of ZeroSum assumptionizing
improper wealth baptizing baths
of undignified conclusions
unholy rising
Directed by a demonic god
weak and/or promiscuous
slatternly sinful goddesses
Eating Earth's own children
when Her Consort's favorite book
calls for religious recipe looks
of meaty mighty
sacrificial ingredients, cooked
For at least comparatively improper
social climate change
and oppositionally degenerative
personal political
lack of win/win gain
Integral knowledge
of which comes first,
propriety of worshipping Earth's
sacred ecosystemic birth
or healthing dignity
of individual bursts
into enlightening constellations
and empowering corporations
and health wealthing cooperations
for polyculturing climax peace,
resonant rebirth.
Earth health and safety
already pre-supposes sensory
dignified Mother propriety
v patriarchally improper memory
of a nationalistic society
rather bicamerally unbalancing
would-be patriots
of universally viral health integrity
Of and for healing
win/lose ZeroSum fractured stealing
from win/win Futures holistic
not not ZeroZone revealing
appropriately integrative
double negative
holy holistic co-relatives
of individuals socially sensitive
to EarthJust dignity reweaving
propriety redeeming
resonance restoring
Compassion's mind-invested work
and heart-infested
operatic passion play
singing through each reworked day
and nights of silent
holy
misty stay.
Seems like we've all become
A nation of ruddy pill poppers
A pill for this, a pill for that
Even sex, now that's the topper
How did it finally come to this?
The doctors are making a killing
Prescribing a pill for a hang nail
And patients are only willing
Always trusted, the family doctor
Upstanding pillar of society
That was then, this is now
Seems like a lack of propriety
The code of ethics that used to be
Are forthwith being ignored
In favour of that almighty dollar
An outgrowth we can ill afford
Old rules have been abandoned
It's all about the bottom line
Say bye bye to professional ethics
From another place and time
© Jack Ellison 2013
Naked to Nurture. Naked, to Nurture.
Why not naked into woods?
We yank up gumboots.
Enshroud our piggies in wicking and itching sockbags.
Hoping to holdfast against the forfeiture of bought heat.
The city slickers in their shiny slickers
clasp and buckle, zip and bundle
before they trudge and trundle
into the Great Unlabeled, the alien birthright.
An undershirt, a tank, a tee, and then an overthing!
And this in Spring, in Summer. Winter's another thickening:
strappings wrapping trappings, coalgulable clottings clogging
scarf-shrouded and unceremonious cerements.
The gloves, if cold or wet. The hat and muffs, if blustering.
We insulate ourselves from the uninsulated.
Remove ourselves from that which we aim to enter.
To re-enter. To be received by. Naked as we came, now
at our peril, apparently apparelled in unparalleled antiferalelry.
Each civilized entrant into sylvan realms-
textile banished for fear of cold,
for fear of wet, for fear of dirt.
The mind must first give up its notions
of propriety to hope to slake the self in the
sunlit and secreted shimmerings of sanctity.
Be bare of sole, skin to wind.
Be bare of soul, Yin to begin.
Why not naked into woods?
they do, so certainly, come naked...
into us.
CONGENIAL IMITATION
Nature and collective idea
not modified by fashion or
by habit, enthroned to day
and dethroned tomorrow.
The artless balance of emotion
founded on propriety,art
emerged into life.An immense
connected well of congenial
invitation unmoved by the clamour
of the crowd not presuming to
exhaust the inexhaustible,
the harmony of the whole
when novelty and feeling warm
a bosom or extort a tear.
From Fuseli lecture to the RA 1801
*A Phrasis is a structured verse where the poet uses selected prose phrases of another writer’s(not a poet) to compile unique poetry therefrom as a tribute thereto,the word phrasis is Greek for phrase.
Listen to me read this and 80 other phrasis on youtube under name of ichthyschiro
To bow my head before oppression
was never written in my genetic code.
To play the slave for a miserable wage,
and pray to the god of those slave-masters
in order to taste the pleasures of prosperity,
is nothing but a nightmare.
If I do not love you,
I will tell you straight in the eyes,
like those independence fighters
born of my genealogical tree.
I hate the hypocrites,
the deceitful, the envious,
the liars, the racists, the traitors,
and those human beings who lie down
beneath the weight of oppression.
I am the expression of a humanity
freed from the burdens
of Western societal conformity.
I despise propriety
when the environment is hostile.
When I suffer,
my demons seize control of the vessel.
I have but one life,
one journey,
one dusk,
before the reaper
comes to harvest my tainted soul.
My allegiance is to Africa,
despite the chaos that has reigned there for centuries.
I will remain bound
to the cradle of humanity
until my final dusk.
Over the years tears fell like rain,
drowning any hope in my heart.
And fragile dreams immersed in pain,
slowly began to fall apart.
Shunning rules of propriety,
you placed yourself first and me last.
And fueled by anxiety,
love's allocated to the past.
I remember the tender hugs
that once made me feel ten feet tall.
And your funny, innocent shrugs,
I recall the charm of it all.
When you ran off, I changed the locks,
now all that's left is bitter tears.
For, despite my pleas and long talks,
your cheating grew over the years.
You went where I couldn't follow,
and yet, you beg forgiveness still.
But your empty words ring hollow,
you don't love me and never will.
Life was perfect, without a flaw,
till I became yesterday's toy.
And you loaded that final straw
that broke my heart and stole my joy.
(Quatrain)
12/29/2015
She greeted him at her front door
Promptly arrived at half past four
Sat him down in an easy chair
Placed close by hers with proper care
He placed his hand upon her knee
As she served him Earl Grey tea
Left it there a merest instant
Then drew it back so content
She hadn’t recoiled or shown alarm
Not even smallest jerk of her arm
Had disturbed the steady flow
As both watched its level grow
He heard the whisper of dress silk
As she poured and added the milk
She sat by his side with a little sigh
As his fingers brushed against her thigh
And for now he thought it best
There to let the matter rest
He took his leave soon after that
Took his cane doffed his hat
Saw then much to his surprise
The little twinkle in her eyes
Said may I call again once more
She nodded yes and closed her door
Watched him walk down the lane
Tall and straight with swagger cane
The boundingly large Dwarf shook his head, disapprovingly,"
discussing payment afterward is
not the Dwarven way"-he winced
his annoyed -- half displeasure liberally and spat,
while stroking his sword sized dagger.
Massaging into it; his family crest emblem
with a frightening amount of overzealousness.
The half-naked Elf-girl looked at him as if
she had just found a long lost playmate.
Her light colored brow thinly arched in a double
stamp of-agreement for her trouble.
(So much as things were, weeeak-ass lame)"
best to get your sh:)t upfront,
in case our sponsors die prematurely.
Like a bunch of Nanceycats", she added,
as she stroked playfully,
her own dagger,
blood thirstily answering the appeased Dwarf.
But with a much greater eros-accuracy,
nay, prowess.
The Bard was pontificatingly-stoned, big surprise,
so he replied to them both in theatrical fashion.
" Today I watched a Raven purposely fly to
a rooftop and land on its edge,
not the top or the middle! The f:) ing edge!
just so it could hop hop hop to the top!
I regret not walking around to see if
the smartass did the same going down
the other side, even though she has wing!
.What I'm trying to say my friends is,
I don't know!
But, let's go kick some Xantroxian ass
and take payment according to what we deserve."
Which is all of it!
The Elf genuflected, as if to oblige-
his insanity and raise him one,
boobs bouncing clumsily as she returned back up."
Let's get our nut on this one, she half begged,
with another arched brow of gleaming-wet-
imp-propriety....."Then I'm gonna bust one, the board...
Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved,
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine
Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes
A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables.
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations
Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely
Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down
Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?
______________________________
Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14
Running fancy free into a field,
Chasing butterflies my path revealed,
My arms outstretched into the sky,
I am so happy--not caring why.
Cooled by a fragrant soft Spring breeze,
I trip and fall down to my knees,
Then wistfully gaze into the sky,
To watch the clouds drift slowly by.
Slowly my youthful mind escapes,
Into their billowy pillowy shapes,
As my youthful imagination rages,
Onto life’s unwritten pages.
I reminisce about these scenes so well,
But to them I’ve had to say farewell,
To blend with the accepted propriety
Of my adult world’s fast society.
Though I mostly do what people expect,
I sometimes upon my youth reflect,
And dream nostalgically of my life then,
Knowing I can never be that person again.