Long Proscribed Poems
Long Proscribed Poems. Below are the most popular long Proscribed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Proscribed poems by poem length and keyword.
21st February 2012
By Sashi Prabhu (zeauoxian)
(Couplet)
Hey mum and dad please do not lowly hum or keep mum,
When by your little one asked “where do babies come from?”
Narrated over and over this metaphorical tale,
Many scoff to tell, be it female or adult male.
Birds are like men and fly as they please,
Bees are like women, dedicated to their queen, to her whims appease.
Bees sit on and pollinate the flowers,
By, buzzing around many and over few hovers.
The birds spread the “seed”,
These to the “gen next” they lead.
This is about birds and bees a short verse,
On a topic, proscribed and taboo which parents surely must never be averse
He was in love, deep, romantic love.
She was standoffish, aloof, above,
no need for pointless ideas thereof.
It was forbidden, like fox and dove.
His clay a gritty earthy mixture.
Hers a sweet creamy marble picture
of comfort, a permanent fixture.
His secret love a proscribed stricture.
So he sat at her feet each long day
writing the love words he could not say.
He greatly feared from her side to stray
lest someone come and take her away.
He searched for the same magic by night
that brought him to life and gave him sight.
Hoping that her stone wings would take flight
and sweep them from this piteous plight.
wispy …
tendrils of light
faint, hushed feathers of trickling lucence
an impish muster of sprites
shimmering in a mosh pit swirl of
proscribed whispers, limpid
absconding the darkness, once bound
giggling to rest on the cool, flat sand
content to adorn whate'er surface it bespokes
(blessed be that which it may grace
though by happenstance alone)
coruscation, set alight
Indulgence for its own regard
drowning joyfully for
the sake of a thirst insatiable
and crimping the fine edges of patience
a breath of the firmament
sighs sent forth from the sky itself
brisk and aromatic
just keen enough to rouse …
lashes bat, soft
then quick ... and quick again
oh, the rich and sultry sin beneath
if but a gaze should settle upon you …
exist not, the coffers to equate such worth -
she is divine purity, sublime
and it is no mystery, the light hence
it was borne here for her singular revelation
that no eye EVER strain to behold her countenance
that no ear ever long for her voice
or no heart know her absence
she is the maelstrom of Heaven's shining gasp
and the custodian of dreams
winged and awakened …
amaranthine.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 23" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Angels" Poetry Contest, Broken Wings, Judge & Sponsor.
We’re busy all day long with studying and chapter summaries,
we’re stuck in quarantine. Luckily, I like my roommate's company.
We know that we have work to do as prep for upcoming classes,
but we know that it takes more than work to make young lasses happy.
So I talked my roomies into getting, a steak-n-cheese delivery,
instead of working fact-sheets, for our next term chemistry.
Dueling playlists cave-rave from the echos in our suites,
we’re having all the fun we can on opening quarantine week.
Some guys try for invites, like we’re throwing a private wingding,
but those texts go unanswered ‘cause we’re genuinely quarantining.
With the COVID blues proscribed - get that frown right off your face miss,
our studies are on schedule - and it’s time for some serious play !
#university #covid #quarantine #teen
The apostate looked out his window,
and started to believe
As genuflecting pylons,
sent ramifications through the trees
Chaos looked at reason,
was it about to make a plea
I see Satan’s raising an army
or so the nihilists agreed
The Crier rang his Leper bell,
‘our town’s a Godless apparition’
Least he filled hearts with envy,
of a once dreaded condition
Now the King prayed for calm,
in another pagan act of contrition
After his son died at birth,
he had proscribed all religion
Atheists came from all around,
excommunication filled the air
Roots now faced horizontal,
trying to feed off despair
Anxious to leave town,
random leaves block civic square
And steeplejacks are disorientated,
from neglecting their repairs
That hole’s not deep enough,
winked the piper to the knave
He could never resist a shortcut,
even digging his own grave
But the madness continued,
hermits set fire each other’s caves
Shedding light on the void,
by burning alive it’s willing slaves
And as the apocalypse gathered pace,
populations slowly died
Some genius came forward,
a real madman in disguise
Said we need a scapegoat,
a dimwit, an ultimate sacrifice
He was crucified for being too clever,
they much preferred no advice
And whilst writing this story,
that apparently makes no sense
The Queen was in her chambers,
hanging herself from suspense
Children butcher themselves gaily,
having learned how to fence
As for putting the fear of God into us,
the wicked come crawling to repent
So finally when heaven reopened,
a total eclipse tried darken that day
Never to see man overshadowed again,
Sun went nova, vaporising all life away
By
David Kavanagh
"The road to write is paved with good intensives."
— attr. too know won
The mourning it always do come sum-how
where they're voices brake the piece into peaces—
we was all of us promised a wright to no the truth
butt the heir we breathe has went, spent, mined out, beyond the vane/vain gnus
proscribed like a wether we cannot sea—the err of it and yeti.
Running from the lie's the money stayed, still
He, galled, gulled, lead in, shuttered—should of ironed the flood on thin eyes, thin i's
they swept the e-rupture under the rug of the volcano
lent, bent, the routes of it t'all drowned the ceiling every moan and mown
knot one sole voice cud of broke the rein of time it-shelf.
The children play was born into wore there bodies the pour of plague
sum-body never said nothing—the reign felled on the pane/pain like whether
emigrate, immigrate or stay, him and her and them bear/bare the same old hole
they're writes they're breastless rites to exst was pored over the alter
and the sole of it, the soul of it, they burned the maid in the mourning stair.
And now, , we scroll and sprawl and drool through the mourning of taht
sum-how the "famine" is a cantent, the "worn" is a wra, the "wand" is a wrte
end sum-one's always loosing there wright two exist, here, hear, their
too nations, to flags, two many wounds the power they powder the flood they could of ironed
where we're board-stiff wore down, the fowl foul heir of sit, the steal they steel—
the raised cities rased, razed—
interesting, someone didn't run Grammarly,
rite.
Sow seeds before green garden ye savour,
Eat fruits of toil and sweat only thy own,
Quote no quotes often chewed, void of flavour,
No garden goes green, not by hard toil grown.
Be it an insight, brainwave as never,
One’s own muse is most inspiring maid known.
For long man, who’s forbidden fruits desired,
Goes on a wander lust such fruits to fish,
Why the Garden of Eden is admired,
Why things proscribed go for greater relish.
It is no sin to get by greats inspired
If you add your own, cook not someone’s dish.
World is the sole piece of creative art,
The rest is inspired, all of it or part.
_______________________
Sonnet |03.03.2009, revised Feb 2025|
Note: This sonnet does not follow the Pythagorean divide between the octave and sestet commonly found in sonnets, but an equal one followed by a couplet resolving the premise.
This Damed Family Man - Sad Commentary
The personal issue asper role
of fatherhood, I did address
in psycho therapy
earlier today, particularly dynamics
between self (birth father),
and eldest daughter
matter of factly confess
sing, how his (mine)
behavior affected her express
lee during her formative years,
and doth readily admit
this papa felt
accurate to second guess
some aspects asper
retrospective interactions less
sunned prospect for healthy
paternal bond, when mess
elf unwittingly allows,
that my being unemployed ness
esse sear really did cause agony,
especially NOT able
to sound im press
sieve, when class
mates naturally, necessarily,
and nonchalantly
inquired asper livelihood
about father, and mother
feeling sorely Tess
Ted most likely painfully
writhing with psycho
logical agony aver
ring, that this dada,
NOR mama didst
NOT work, perhaps cur
sing thy role in begetting her,
(no matter emotional debacles plagued
me entire mein kempf
like a sharp spur
severely disabling thine ability
establishing a solid whir
king track record, plus abhorred,
aggrieved, and appalled
at deplorable, despicable, and
detestable awful
house keeping bald
lee obvious in some instances
children, and family services
(of Norristown, Pennsylvania) called
offering, or rather decreed
that dramatic improvements made
in order for thy house
hold to be freed
the reasonable mandatory checklist
(to avoid compromising welfare
of minors), thus
obligation to heed
proscribed safety measures need
did to be obeyed lest...with light speed
our deux darling heiresses weed
never see again if they
got forcibly taken away
fortunately though
we parents did not delay
following sanctioned
dictates - hooray,
yet subsequent discord
wrought by my cum play
cent risque extra-marital trysts.
Albeit cold shower with sudden zoo
ming onset of
brisk fallen temperatures
may not be amenable to you
dear reader, but after Matthew
sets to washing
creating substantial lather,
visited with healthy slew
of frothed shampooed hair do
(cuz - jest like
Spongebobsquarepants,
I like abundant suds),
which initial shock
of cold water jolts mine
body inducing "Whew"
to escape soaped over mouth
(here, lemme lean in
so yukon get a whiff)
this self proscribed
quasi (very diluted off the
Peco boo grid) deprivation
of hot H2O tolerance,
qua minimal self
elected survivalist
modus operandi value
bull electric kool aid acid test
undertaken in the
event devastating adversity
(mainly an electricity
power outage) doth render
livingsocial uncomfortably
cold to the bone and sinew,
where mind over matter decides
riches superfluous,
especially if parvenu,
when scads of back up
generators conk out
total unbelievable wreckage,
sans the overnight
natural germane Blitzkrieg
imposes savage apocalyptic
devastating hellacious milieu
(on account of a mega disaster
such as hurricane Michael), who
doth not indiscriminate
toward gentile or Jew
obliterating entire infra
structure super glue
equalizing economic disparity hew
wing fair playing field reducing
whether disposable wealth harkens
from "old" money, and/or nouveau
riche, this sudden
catastrophic event brew
till lee decrees indeterminate
penury, and trappings
of theoretical leisure class
bon voyage every stitch of cloth,
and other material goods
forcibly bade i.e. adieu.
She left at the yawn of dawn
Between fog-densed waking hour
And rain-soused grey morning.
Veiled, her image was laced in silhouette.
She stood behind the fog-rain, a dark
Painting, sketched in black crayons of
Languor.
Her breath, one streak of ink
Of a satanic fresco on a dingy subway.
And the breath of the rain was heavy,
Brewed in hauteur -
So was the world between us two,
Lame and proscribed.
She wandered through flighty directions.
Grouches filled her lugubrious lungs,
Blotches on the sludged track, echoing
Her slouch.
She was one mass of trembling grief.
I was one hulk of ruinous pain.
Between us, the funeral of love.
Threnodies held court on the once soft
Yolk of hugs that sensitized an ageing
Romance.
Dawn darkened with the pulse of grief
Rain pelted the senses held by solemn
Consternations, recreating a fruitless
Void of hollow trepidations.
She lurched and sidled towards the
Crag-lined route, towards earth’s drooling
Beck... and I knew the funeral
Was over.