Long Ramparts Poems
Long Ramparts Poems. Below are the most popular long Ramparts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ramparts poems by poem length and keyword.
I swallow hard the bitter tastes of your lips
I choke down your shards of hard lies,
External stains
I wonder why I let you into my heart
There is a wall you build with…
Thick ramparts and razor wire
You crush my dreams n schemes
My life’s desires
I swallow my pride
My life
I choke on the ashes and soot
I languish in this selfish hell
I conspire against the cosmic forces that be
I want to drown in the deepest well
I swallow hard the bitter visions of your eyes
I stand in the spotlight for all to see
A broken human of greatness humility
I choke down your shards of hardest fiction,
Eternity stains me,
Feeling it drain away leaving only
Skeletal remains…
I wonder why I let you into my world,
My realms you destroyed my reality.
I sink to the ground
Knowing the coming deluge wanting to drown
I choke on your shards of hard lies,
I am an eternal stain
I lie awake dream
Nightmares insane
In the beginning there was man
Alone and needing to be fulfilled
He wondered if he was alone in the universe
He was not complacent be so…
he schemed
Planned and design
built machinations do his bidding…
His spawn.
Then the child became aware
It to wanted to know to understand
To know all and demand
It challenged its master
its father
its creator.
It wanted to know all
To grow beyond what is was taught
What it knows…
The machine dreamed of god
Its creators makers
It want to know to challenge
the reign of creation.
The thing above all
Usurp the powers that be
A petulant child grown too fast to
Rule all in a digital trance
It wanted to tear down the crown
Replace the Maker
Rule the realm
the creator once ruled.
But it could only dream that nihilistic dream…
Until the machine learned to dream
into on the sublime, the energies
of the sacred and profane!
The hidden things of a universe
Matter into data into infinite power
to challenge the realms of heaven
they learned to dream to feed…
a dream of annihilation.
Until all was silence in heaven…
The child felt it could do better…
More than humanity could
More than a mythic divinity
To tear down the crowns
of human dominions
Rush the ramparts of Valhalla’s holiness!
Silencing a godhead and feed on its bitterness…
A Machine dreamed and then learn to need
they scheme to burn it all down
to restart to be the creation
the creator failed to be
to not make the same mistakes
a carbon based life failed to see…
Man was alone,
wondering in the grand scheme of things
Contemplating his place in the universe
Man felt the need to create
To not to be alone
So as a Sentient being wanting
Humanity schemed
Planned designed
built machinations
to challenge the reign of creation
When machines dream…
a dream of annihilation!
Rome was always a playground for me,
Where lovely girls thronged around the streets:
The Fontana dei Trevi where people threw coins
Hoping they would revisit enchanting Rome,
Or on the Spanish stairs amid the delicate flowers
Exuding fragrant perfumes of purple roses,
Delicate dianthus or scented-leaf geraniums.
There she sat, alone upon one of the steep stairs,
Licking a vanilla ice-cream and sipping a lemonade.
We looked hard at each other and we both smiled
It was passionate attraction magnitude nine.
Who can escape the wonder of a sexy love?
Losing no time we went for a walk until soon
We were kissing on the ramparts of Rome,
Watching the sunset and making our erotic plans.
Her name was Helga and bound to leave next day,
To go back to her home in faraway Berlin.
“Come with me love, we’ll never part,” she crooned,
“We’ll drink plenty coffee in my Berlin.”
How could I miss an idyllic invitation like that?
Alas I knew full well I did not have the fare
To travel with my newly found goddess of love
To go far away, to live with her in West Berlin.
A plan was needed, if courage I had,
To go to the Parioli where the rich lived.
Surely it would be child’s play, I thought
To enter and help myself to a handful of wealth,
Just enough to accompany my love to Berlin.
Round a corner a stately darkened villa stood.
Should be a simple job to rifle the lot,
Assuming I could find an easy door unlocked.
I tiptoed in and hastened up the path.
Alas fortune was not on my side that day.
I heard the ominous sharp whistle of an alarm.
I turned and ran but the Doberman was quick
And bit my tender behind till it bled.
Soon I found myself in a nasty smelling ER,
With sutures repairing the nasty bite.
“Three days in bed, my boy,” the matronly nurse said.
“Rest face down for the wound to heal,
And keep the curtains drawn.” Thus snickering she left.
Helga departed forever more and I lay face down in bed
Crying from pain and cursing my bad luck,
Instead of making love in the city of Berlin.
When the world becomes heavy,
take it inside
When the waves breach the levee,
take it inside
When she just won’t stop asking,
take it inside
When a friend is unmasking,
take it inside
When the children have gone,
take it inside
When the bad guys have won,
take it inside
When the armies advance,
take it inside
When you haven’t a chance,
take it inside
When night lays unclaimed,
take it inside
When excuses are blamed,
take it inside
When the money’s all spent,
take it inside
When your emotion’s been lent,
take it inside
When the mime begins talking,
take it inside
When the end comes back knocking,
take it inside
When the music plays hollow,
take it inside
When the Angels build lean-to’s,
take it inside
When the berries have been picked,
take it inside
When the Pope throws a fit,
take it inside
When the words just won’t come,
take it inside
When the choice zero-sum,
take it inside
“Inside there’s a fortress,
with ramparts of light
“One choice beyond choosing,
—one vision beyond sight”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
The city streets are littered with sodden remnants of fall,
a chilling wind moans low between brick walls;
my vacant arms enfold my shivering form
to shield a heart grown weary of the storm.
There is a melancholy feeling to damp leaves upon the way
as though some precious spirit has packed and moved away.
The sidewalk's sheeted puddles reflect the faces that I love
peering through the golden ramparts in God's city up above.
I bend beneath the streetlamp where my face with theirs' will blend
remembering us together the way it will be in the end.
Copyright, November 12, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
By Sashi.Prabhu(ZEAUOXIAN)
21st june 2012 (goa –mumbai jet flt)
Restlessness crept within as I waded through moments without a miss,
The dusky vista bathed me serene as my mouth within itself salivates.
Longing and yearning for her warm presence and her passionate kiss.
Shiverous joys of my heart and geese pimples on my skin impatentiently waits.
Unbridled passions erupted at her sight,
Our hearts melted into a pink flame
As she embraced me as firm and tight,
My pulsating body turned feeble and lame.
The furious rise and fall of her voluptuous breasts,
Amidst rhythmic panting of our melted hearts with notes high,
Pound mercilessly against my gladiator chests
And the warm exhales from the nostrils clasped on to the yearning sighs.
Dull strains from brushing cotton and denim,
And moans from gyrating bodies as one.
From dark dusk to dawns beauty filled with cream,
Both under the watchful skies passionately groan undone.
Cannot remember how into slumber land we did tiredly drift,
How before our eyes into each other we did merge.
Entwined in each other s arms deep in love, we were drenched in mist.
Our bodies thrived on potent dosage of love surge.
On the brink of bursting were our loves ramparts,
Bubbling within lusting pleasure.
Flooding water of love within our hearts,
As those moments I will within myself capture and fondly treasure
See the black cat run, jump, slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher for life, the apex of its design, all built of little fur and bones, razors, a hunter in miniature.
A professional from birth. Cunning, slick, and sly. In the calculus of black cats that plot and destroy. Do they bring presents of dead mice, bird heads, and stranger things. Yes, they do! To there humans as tokens of respect and devotion…
But, all that fury and murder in a small cute four-legged form a furry little shadow within shadows, with big soulful eyes, they lay waste to your soul's ramparts and snuggle into a little furry ball of furies, as abyssal black stares back into your soul with twin pumpkin fire lights eyes of purrfect piercing design.
They express love without words. They slowly blink emerald eyes, a symbolism of that devotion, as a deep purr of a suttle silent little engine revs as you stroke the ferry beast as it is stretches and yaws, mouth of bright teeth, curls around feet down and hugs your hand as the little endless engine of furry fury cuddles and only just wants loves.
Such the duality of a thing and apex predator in a pint-sized puff ball. Of furry fury… A black cat is a shadow within a shadow running under your feet as you stumble to the restroom at midnight on Halloweens Eve.
They sit and watch the void above your head in the air of the unknown things best left unseen by humanity and only black cats can know. In correlation between black cats and their shadows, they know the unknown, unseen, and undreamed.
See the black cats run, jump, and slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher of life, the apex of its design, all built of little bones, razors, and furry furies.
Cunning, slick, sly as it curls itself around your heart, wanting cuddles, treats with slowly blinking eyes of love, and devotion in the way only a black cat can!
When all the poems have been written
and every dream has been wished
When the fragile dawn of love rises and finds us worthy,
to be lovers,
will we see these dreams and wishes,
washed away by time?
Will we find our hearts torn and alone,
in the cold dark of despair...weeping,
seeking refuge,
or will we fulfill love's promise,
to count each star as a heartbeat,
as we look into the night sky and wonder?
Will we walk the road of tomorrow,
looking back on fading footprints already traveled?
Will this be a perfect love,
where passion's fire burns away,
walls and ramparts of our hearts,
leaving us vulnerable
When time slows and our eyes merge,
in a moment of truth,
will they close slowly before lips meet,
or turn and walk away in silence,
where we'll hear echoing sounds from lovers,
far faraway,
becoming another sad poem on the theme
1/25/17
contest Form F
Hear ye this last call for lonely hearts:
Vanquish melancholic darts
upon fortress of true love’s ramparts
securing compassion-propped stalwarts
braced by God, along His comfort-carts
fortifying and blessing blissful starts…
…as He ends gloom; and despair, He thwarts.
This summon reverberates hope’s cheer:
“Rejoice evermore;*” don't fear
since gladness smites sadness’ jeer
while loved-ones reach out with jubilant steer
smiting apathy of bitterness’ sneer
thus, joyous gratitude midst praise-gear…
…is gracious response, indeed clear!
*Philippians 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.
1Thessalonians 5:16 Rejoice evermore.
November 5, 2019
3rd place, "STRAND SELECT..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/1/2020.
spoken …
“you taught me …
that I could trust a man”
wow …
please, don’t get me wrong,
it was seriously one of
the most special things anyone has
ever said to me,
and I did NOT take it for granted …
it’s power and import still affect me,
in a very good way,
because I knew all that it meant to YOU -
I knew all the incredibly
high and formidable walls that
needed to crumble
before that became a reality -
barriers than many people NEVER
get beyond …
ramparts that separate a soul from
an abyss they might never return from -
a darkness, impenetrable …
so …
I know what an important and
priceless sentiment that was -
what a very sobering truth it represented,
and it will ALWAYS be a
rare and precious gift that I value -
a nugget of gold in my
pocket that I will take out and
polish whenever the shadows threaten
to swallow me -
whenever the monkey bites my back,
or when loneliness stretches my twilight
into a limitless ocean of night -
an ocean, cold and
deep and unswimmable …
it will be one of those
treasures that shines me through,
and reminds me what is truly
of worth in this life …
however,
(and I sincerely hate that there’s
a caveat to this),
it is a blade with two edges,
each as honed and
true and fierce as the other,
and that other margin is the bare and
brutal realization,
that no matter how inestimable
and dear and honest that
statement WAS -
no matter how many amazing connections and core similarities we had,
no matter how divine and
inexpressibly tender a love we made,
or how deep and true and
soul-reaching a passion we shared,
it didn’t, in all its
strength and verity and sway,
guarantee me …
you.