Long Prostrated Poems
Long Prostrated Poems. Below are the most popular long Prostrated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prostrated poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m a man whose tired and worn
Empty and dead on my feet,
Petered out, played out, pooped and torn
Burn out, broke down and beat.
Drowsy, droopy, drooping drained
Dog tired, done in, done for,
Exasperated, enervated empty faint
Overtaxed, overworked and bored
Sick of, sleepy, spent and stale
Haggard, run down, all in
Consumed, collapsing, asleep, annoyed
Exhausted, bygone and barren
Ramshackle, rickety, run-down and frail
Bedraggled, broken-down and creaky
Threadbare, tottering, tired and used
Feeble, fragile and flimsy
Out of shape, out of gas, done in and feeble
Gone to seed, soft, incapacitated
Listless, washed out, weakened, on the ropes
Undermined, fatigued, prostrated.
Discontented, dissatisfied, tacky and dull
Jaded, glum and gloomy
Sick and tired, up to here, driveling, drab
Sated, down and weary
Befuddled, unsteady, wobbly and faint
Pallid, pale and lean
Stupefied, staggering, slaphappy, subdued
Oh damn I got to go pee.
Gaia, the favourite Empress of the Emperor Sun,
The true definition of beauty,
Elevated above all else, none other could compare,
She wore a crown that placed her beyond others,
Richer than all her compeers,
Only she had the power to give life,
So fertile that everything she touched prospered,
But she let this get to her head,
So she turned away from the Sun,
They say pride comes before a fall,
And surely she was, proud as a peacock,
So darkness befell her glorious face,
Plagues, famine, drought, and wildfires disfigured her skin,
And slowly, she began to lose her most prised possession,
The gift of life,
This brought her to her knees,
So she embarked on a journey, her very own Odyssey,
This was not a revolution,
This was a path to redemption,
This was the path of restoration,
So she prostrated herself with frustration,
She wept and begged for mercy, for forgiveness,
And the Sun heard her lamentations,
And she found favour in His eyes,
And it forever shall be remembered,
That the merciful King heard the cry of His beloved and answered.
Blessed to be part of God's open-theatre
But a weather whiplash created a havoc
My innocent joy evaporated
My lean body quivered by the violent winds
Pitter! Patter! It started pouring down
The winds added fuel to the storm
Sturdy trees prostrated on the ground
Accepting their defeat in the duel
It flooded all over submerging me
Luckily, the flow took a quick diversion
By dawn, the level dropped down to my neck
And I could see the limpid firmament
Noticed a ray like a sharp needle
Came out penetrating the stretched blue denim
Over the moon! I was spellbound by sunlight!
Place: 3 rd
Where is love?
I've spent all my years looking
From green hills to sandy beaches
I've looked to the Heavens
And perhaps even indulged the depths of Hell
I've pleaded and made wagers
I've even prostrated myself to God
Again and again I ask the question
Where is love?
If love could be found surely I'd have done so
By now I'd be in some delightful romantic dinner
Swapping stories about rude customers
While eating a beautifully cooked steak
We'd look into each other's eyes
And the spark would ignite a flame
Before I slept I'd not have wept wondering
Where is love?
Perhaps I'll never find love
Because I can't even love myself
An overweight 27 year old man with a lazy eye
Working part time at a grocery store
Still just figuring out what this life really is
I see no value when I look into the mirror
Years of torment from my peers
Served only to heighten disparate fears
Where is love?
I've run out of gods to beg
I've run out of bottles of beer to consume
And my poetic verse suffers
In moments like this it's just raw emotion
My hand flying all over the paper
Hoping to make sense of my feelings
Ten years of lonely nights could drive a man mad
Always wondering
Where is love?
Raw bits of heavenly tasty healing power...
Sown by Norwegian bachelor farmer
in tandem with baked powder milk biscuits
courtesy your guardian angel
(otherwise known as Matthew Scott)
Writes to his dearly beloved precious offspring
(today March 25th, 2021)
in summer re: a shayne maydel darling daughter
prostrated by grief evincing figurative bite marks
indicative being smitten (now unrequited love).
Ever since her young heartthrob
unexpectedly rent asunder
fledgling relationship,
his heart felt initial zeal squelched,
when prized progeny voiced ecstasy
toward him, an attractive lad
regarding company hungrily sought
once breached a bond
subsequently rent asunder
impossible mission
to bridge formidable chasm.
Aeons of sorrowful tears shed,
wherein our hereditary blood and flesh
weeps profuse grievousness
whereby papa
(feeling helpless thousands of miles away)
wonders how much more time will elapse
before aforementioned lass
exhibits freedom from melancholic affliction.
Scant amount of time
actually constitutes
longevity of amorousness
between Shana Punim
and he who caught fancy
of same quite sensitive
twenty two year old young woman,
nevertheless an ordinarily
indomitable female spirit
reduced to inconsolable grief
similar to when Zayda
(her paternal grandfather)
passed away inching up on six months ago.
The width, depth, and breadth amidst
every cell comprising
one generic body well nigh
manifested as yours truly (me)
doth also plaintively cry
nsync with sad mood
(analogous to when
said loved one didst die),
cuz filial linkedin connection
automatically triggers chain reaction,
who helped beget
referenced youngest adult child of mine.
Naivete and innocence
pitched hither and yon
to and fro, where male testosterone won
out against moral scruples
(read marital covenant I violated),
where temptation appropriated from son
of the Boyce Brandon
and later Harriet Harris,
who willingly and wantonly
surrendered himself to concupiscence
thus receiving just desserts
being privy forced to experience hurt,
(albeit vicariously)
heaped upon Shana without question.
The gentle buzzing sound echoed memories of a fading childhood
When she and her cousin had whispered secrets at the mosque
About undying love and first kisses before being stung by a bee
‘Honey, don’t worry they make nectar and ambrosia is sweet’
She had just begun to wear a veil to protect her from luring eyes
But passion and adventure were stronger than foreclosing fabric
Fatima widened her crimson lips to a smile larger than persimmon
Teased dimples on olive skin into a conspicuous feast of desire
Almond eyes shone like candle light signals in flickering delight
Mustafa was mesmerized and knelt down to show his respect
Then held out his hands and touched the hem of her garment
‘Nothing will keep us apart as long as hummingbirds chirp and
The eagle in my heart pumps around life meaning and peace’
The two children took a piece of metal and made a blood pact
‘Now we are bound in promise for eternity and infinite joy
Maybe our parents will arrange our marriage sealed by a dove’
Now the fizzing in the sky turned into a shadow of fore-bearing
Grew loud and too uncomfortable for their young souls to neglect
‘Let it be a falcon with his talons bringing pride stealth and vigour
His beak will seal our connection with a pick of mellow salvation’
Impermanence beckoned however when the minaret collapsed
Their young lives dissembled into a surreal mirage of illusion
The hawk was a steel groomed assassin and bore a serial number
Doomed she lay in the rubble catching the dome of the masjid
And she was not prostrated in prayer but slain by the drone
Mustafa gathered her dissected remains and vowed retribution
Mopped up her blood with the veil of lost innocence and revenge
Today he drives a Toyota Land Cruiser through the streets of Aleppo
Gun barrel on top next to a black flag with white prophecy inscribed
The seal of misguided religion will not bring Fatima back into live
But he is a victim and dreams that one of the virgins in waiting is her
14th October 2019
Writing Challenge, October, 2019 -Bird-
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
____________________________
I went to unpleasant places
where there was no mention,
or even a clear defination
of the Holy of the Holies!
Those unholy places were dens
of fornicators who condoned
anything immoral and naughty,
many youngsters became victims
being bought for pleasures;
there all sinners practiced
what was against morality...
nobody was sinless and kind!
I went to unpleasant places,
where they chanted hymns
to Hadan and sacrificed a life
on a blood-dripping altar;
that scene made me run far,
thinking I'd be the next to die!
Youthful Eros was worshipped
and at his feet they prostrated,
then they danced around him;
he had manacing eyes so grim!
" Hey, come closer, join the feast! "
They shouted, " God doesn't exist! "
I went to unpleasant places,
to a town distant from the living;
there anything was allowed
to amoral gals and fellows escaping
the harsh judgement of others,
or being lynched by the crowd!
Oh, I wrote it for the glory
Now I’m feeling kinda whorey
For again I came up short
She got half of what she sought
For the pens of others reign
From the Jordan to the Seine
While mine at last report
Just cut against the grain
But I wrote it for the glory
My sadly pensive story
Full of lies and sweet deceit
Prostrated at your feet
For the rules so boldly flaunted
Resound like empty houses – haunted
As the scratching of my pen
Makes Shakespeare spin again
So, if you write just for the glory
The outcome may be oh so gory
If those fifteen lines of verse
Went from somewhat bad – to worse