Long Recounted Poems
Long Recounted Poems. Below are the most popular long Recounted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recounted poems by poem length and keyword.
In my world nevertheless, these reasons compels me to be alone
For no one can even begin to comprehend to things of unknown
Whether a curse or a deliverance to befall upon me
I have not a choice, neither here nor there to ever be
And having lived an unpredictable life faithfully such as mine
I would redeem myself in The Ancients, as long I be given time
Therefore… with the future to unfold, I have resolved myself to serve
If not to ensave, death as penalty is an afterall I’m to deserve
Let us be on with our way, for the night is to be awaken soon
With luck, let there be light to guide us from beneath the moon”
{As I sheath my metal, I stood my ground and awaited for her
Awaiting… for perhaps a miracle which may yet draws near
This single hope stayed with me as I followed Alkaiya along
Finally knowing as well, this is indeed the world I belong
After what seem forever, we decidedly stop for a moment’s rest
An unfounded moment, for myself I’m unable to simply outlast
There were stones, darken rocks masking the wilderness around
The unsettling settles… as my time as always is to bound
Sitting in my bed once more, I am without quiet relief awoken
For return is but my recounted nightmare of what time beckons
Before my next entry to come, will perhaps be one even harder
As it is the last moment to recall, we have stumbled upon the Heaori Chamber}
In my world I am but a no one
A no one to everyone else who doesn’t believe
Given is another world I can run
Yet… its essentially hard to remain well receive
Little did I thought I have escaped it all
Little am I to know, my service to the Word retains
With many months ago since to ignore
A certainty is certainly less worthy for complains
Back into The Ancients I return once again
Back into hidden love, back into unfavourable dreams
How else if nothing else is to remain?
If not in my world but to have the other world bring
Time and again, the time of the unknown revisits
Always with a meaning deeper than before to believe
Time after time with my mind to battle and weep
Am I aged with enough faith to take another leap?
A chamber where dreams meet fate
Do I possess the strength to enter for dreams to come true?
Will I ever be regrettably too late?
To prevent the death of Alkaiya to be undoubtedly real
………………………………………………..
The Christmas when Santa got Fat
Kris Kringle rubbed his belly; he was feeling really hungry indeed
Mrs Claus had put him on a diet of what he felt was chicken feed
Brussel Sprouts and Lima Beans and lots of Spinach Green
Life’s unfair when you’re Santa Claus and still your wife is mean.
So what if he‘d piled on the pounds and his belly was very round
He could surely fit down any chimney without the slightest sound
Oh well he thought its Christmas eve , children would put out some snacks
Milk, Cookies and Candy Cane would put his tummy back on track.
He got into his silver sleigh and heaved a mighty sigh
Rudolph, , Prancer and Vixen waved to Mrs. Claus goodbye
He was really very hungry the clouds had begun to look like food
Then again if he asked his reindeers, they would be so very rude
They all agreed with Mrs. Claus, Santa was rounder in his seat
They hadn’t even let him carry his goodie bag of sweets
The last place on his list was the house of Jill and Joe
Aha he fit down the chimney and he heaved a mighty ho
He placed the doll and toy train right underneath the tree
He saw the milk and cookies and rubbed his hands in glee
He ate and ate the yummy snacks till his pants felt very tight
Cheerful now he began to feel Christmas Eve was a jolly good night
They he tried to climb up the chimney but heavens he couldn’t get back
He wriggled and squirmed but had to agree his middle was very fat
Rudolph, Prancer , Vixen he very softly called
You’ll have to pull get me out of here I can’t seem to move at all
The reindeers whinnied suspiciously what Santa felt was a nasty laugh
He now agreed sheepishly why his food had been cut down to half
They heaved and with a mighty yell, Santa came flying out
It was a good thing it was still midnight for no one had heard him shout
When they reached back home the reindeers gleefully recounted the tale
When he saw Mrs. Claus’ angry face, he began to get very pale
But when she gave her sweet belly laugh, Santa heaved a sigh of relief
It’s a good thing they got you out my dear before they thought you were a thief!
It’s a stricter diet for you this year before you revisit Jane and Joe
Or else instead of the chimney, you will have to ask to use the door!.
Because Her Heart Is Tender, for Beth
by Michael R. Burch
She scrawled soft words in soap: “Never Forget”
dove-white on her car’s window (though the wren,
because its heart is tender, might regret
it called the sun to wake her). As I slept,
she heard lost names recounted, one by one.
She wrote in sidewalk chalk: “Never Forget!”
and kept her heart’s own counsel. No rain swept
away those words, no tear leaves them undone.
Because her heart is tender with regret,
bruised by razed towers’ glass and steel and stone
that shatter on and on and on and on ...
she stitches in damp linen: “NEVER FORGET!”
and listens to her heart’s emphatic song.
(The wren might tilt its head and sing along
because its heart once understood regret
when nestlings fell beyond, beyond, beyond ...
love's reach, and still the boot-heeled world strode on.)
She writes in adamant: “NEVER FORGET!”
because her heart is tender with regret.
Published by Neovictorian/Cochlea, The Villanelle, Nietzsche Twilight, The Eclectic Muse, Nietzsche Twilight, Nutty Stories (South Africa), Poetry Renewal Magazine, and Other Voices International
Because Her Heart is Tender (II)
by Michael R. Burch
Because her heart is tender
there is hope some God might mend her, …
some small hope Fates might relent.
Because her heart is tender
mighty Angels, come defend her!
Even the Devil might repent.
Because her heart is tender
Jacob’s Ladder should descend here,
the heavens open, saints assent.
Because her heart is tender
why does the cruel world rend her?
Fix the world, or let it end here!
Double Trouble
by Michael R. Burch
The villanelle is trouble:
it’s like you’re on the bubble
of beginning to see double.
It’s like you’re on the Hubble
when the lens begins to wobble:
the villanelle is trouble.
It’s like you’re Barney Rubble
scratching itchy beer-stained stubble
because you’re seeing double.
Then your lines begin to gobble
up the good rhymes, and you hobble.
The villanelle is trouble,
just like getting sloshed in the pub’ll
begin to make you babble
because you’re seeing double.
Because the form is flubbable
and is really not that loveable,
the villanelle is trouble:
it’s like you’re seeing double.
They could have ranged together foreever, in just that way
The moment of experience, un-cloaked and with innocent play
In co-creation perfect, when the Lord frequently appeared With approval and fulness of strength, and nothing he feared
Since Abel was able. That is all. Competent and true. Simple and decent.
With no agenda or aim, no cunning ploy, singing what had been recent
In the fore of his mind, as he practiced a tune sung by the Maker
It had all of the elements; a good sung to song (sing) and when beat out by a Shaker
gave to Abel the feel of the Valley floor, sauntering through the trees
Knowing which ones best to climb or to rest upon, which ones visited by bees
And those buzzin' along too added fervour and charm to the song
Made stacatto by the wounded woodpecker, fizzured by the waterfall, and then a throng
Of Quacking Ducks gave ascent to the melody with abstract acclaim
Each creature adding intensity of sound to the natural symphony that even rain
Could not anull the effect which Abel hummed about him in ambling grace
Setting the Gardens creatures to echoe his voice, even the ripple of its trace
As such, the butterfly caught up with the lad as he approached a quiet brook
The horsefly darted about; reflected on the water he could see his crook
It was one that the Lord had given him, in person, a kind of reward
The Master had told him--Abel recounted; that, to be a bard
Is the highest calling placed upon man----and the direct fashion
of Adam, the 1st Man, had been directed with all poetic devices stashed
About the garden. Except that the early fall of man qua man
had precluded the Lords consternation,--had made a loss of his plan
To fashion an Agent of Agency, much like himself, with poetic sensibility and understanding
Deep insight, sensitivity, probing knowledge, inter-connectivity, always handing
Gestures of Kindness, forward grace, intution, foresight or premonition
To each kind and creature, with soaring life, and with death in remission
Gave victory to every waking moment and in subconscious repose
God's chief agent, his first creation>carboholic, had been made already a rose
Story of Afghanistan
The barren land of my birthplace
Green at times but screening a rocky face
Known for thousands of years for its warrior race
Let me tell you the truth,
No one really wanted this “space”.
Up until two lions began prying around
Initially, just fooling around
Afterwards, casting off their cannon sound
Resembling the 6th night of an infant’s fête
Building their castles, and so began the burial grounds.
The lions pledged to crush the other
With a master plan
Dividing the blood brothers
Such was the instruction of the queen mother
As the clans clashed and killed one another.
The chiefs were swallowed by the promise of gold
The mullahs were swapped for the hollow soul
The seniors by the fire recounted and foretold
The purpose for the lion’s vehemence
This story definitely in time will unfold.
The old grew timeworn
Waiting for their young ones to return home
The teenagers free born
Screamed out of their mosques’ domes
Come and join us in this struggle
Faced with the crusaders of the Church of Rome,
But little did they know,
No one will return but the maimed men to a funeral home.
The sturdier lion won the combat
But what has become of my Afghanistan
The wolf in a sheep’s disguise
Has spoiled my jade paradise
My heart denies it but I may have bombed my youthful chums,
This is now a global land-dwelling for bums and slums!
The lion wishes to be unveiled this time
So he promises to take the last dime
After all it pays to cooperate in war crimes!
He roars in a deafening cry
I bring Democracy to this land
With loads of cash in one hand
A whip in the back hand--forgetting the long years of perfidy
I now declare and demand
This is the new Promised Land.
A woman of this realm is exposed with a promise
She is liberated by democracy
Famous on national publications like the story of Pocahontas
She’s affirmed independent and agreed to arise out of the darkness
As the saga is read to the United States Congress
She exhales
And anticipates the lion’s hunger
Waiting for the day when she will be veiled, unveiled, and then veiled again
Not by ordinary men
But by inscription of law.
Thank you for sealing the decree!
Acquiring a new pair of wings I flew into a reputative college to pursue my studies..
focussed on gaining knowledge
to become an independent girl I thrived,
Forming fresh set of friend circle sought to explore~ participating in extra- curricular activities.
Walking hurriedly on the loafers lane to reach college on time,planning group discussion's on subject topics, feeling nervous to present project's, Sneaking to canteen but not eating only chatting we did,hanging around in the campus enjoyed the exquisite infrastructure, bargaining with our stationery man while purchasing books and pens was fun,
chose staircase rather than escalator to reach our classes,
Clicking random photos on ethnic days,keeping a copy with each other to treasure our memories,
sharing dirty talks during lunch time we giggled,
admiring the beauty of our lectures we envied,
short time spent at libraries ~exchanged feelings than reading,glancing at our answer sheets we recounted our marks,learnt working together on assignments, having fun at practical classes,filling pages in record, sitting under trees and examining flowers & insects ,clinging to each others arms we walked all time,being proud volunteer in fests,Setting up stalls to earn marks,
extra credit courses that we chose was mind refreshing ,
sitting at bus stop ~were commenting crazily at our class girls who bunked and enjoyed with their boyfriend's,
crazy night fire camp dance,
playing badminton,relaxing in swimming pool,rain dancing at resort ~our last industrial trip that was,
sitting behind my best friend enjoying bike ride, fresh air hitting my face was fun.,
Working on internships on every Saturday's, travelling in train for short while to reach our destination~teaching school children,conducting exhilarating activities we enjoyed.
Successfully completing our graduation
we hopped on our career paths.
Meeting once in a while on holidays we reminisce about our crazy times that happened five years ago.!
Aug 7, 2020
Note:Craziest time at ..Poetry Contest.
Picked Choice one: Craziest time At...
Word count: 299
Sponsored by Caren Crutsinger.
While sidestepping impediments,
Achilles heel stricken with paralyzing zap
chronically inducing captain klutz
to bemoan and yap,
i.e. (think) booby trap
strategically laid down by the missus -
necessitating yours truly
to patschke with marauder map
in an to circumvent and handicap
becoming lame and crippled for life
essentially rendering me totally tubular
pathetic non-ambulatory chap.
Aforesaid dangerous tripping hazard,
the spouse I do calmly berate
causing me being waylaid
for very important date
and/or additionally hurrying
to forestall bowel movement,
viz urgent incommodious fate
mine impromptu tanglefoot (feet) dance step
doth ineluctably foment hate.
Ready to lash out courtesy sanity claws
meanwhile thee wife burst out with guffaws
me cursing Sir Isaac Newton's gravitational laws
one infuriated husband
our marital covenant, he swiftly redraws
subsequently divorce sputters
thru clenched jaws
underscoring how feigned wedded bliss
(actually shotgun marriage)
replete with many flaws
e'er since chance encounter
regarding future maternal cause
deux daughters we begat
packed their bags at tender age,
and left home without pause.
All these approximate
two score plus oddly even years
avoiding precarious hazardous risks wears
heavily reinforced steel tipped
crampon tricked out boots,
which rugged footwear eventually tears,
though they outlasted lifetime
predicted on advertisements and follow up
customer satisfaction questionnaires
as satisfied survivor traversing
harrowing riddled landscapes,
I feel adequately trained to join
most hardy (doubting thomas) mountaineers,
especially those with surname Reznick
livingsocial, snapchatting, and twittering in Switzerland
possibly linkedin with Harris heirs
this wordsmith conclusively blares.
I non-jokingly attest -
above recounted spectacle no humorous avail,
thereby true love moost prevail
when wife leaves mayhem and bedlam
nothing boot trail of destruction without fail
excellent preparation if/when
purblind poetic papa needs to learn Braille.
"In all fairness, all votes must be counted." It is in order to guarantee the correct electoral college votes are as accurate as possible. And that each presidential candidate receives the proper number of allotted votes per state. In all fairness, even votes for Senators may need to be recounted. This general rule of thumb especially applies in the battle ground states.
Because we want the correct amount of senators and balance of power allotted. The last time I checked, it was a fifty fifty split between Democrats and Republicans. If Joe Biden does remain our next president, and Kamila Harris becomes his vice president? She will determine the final senatorial vote in the event of a tie vote.
Likewise, if by some miracle or act of God, President Donald Trump serves a second term of office? Vice President Pence would choose the deciding vote. We need to pray the correct candidates are the ones that are ultimately elected. These unalienable facts remains true, even though we personally did not vote for them ourselves. God sets up rulers and removes them from office according to His divine will and plan for mankind.
Even though Democrats lost about five seats and Republicans gained a few seats, it is apparent the Democrats will retain majority over the House. However their margin will become slightly reduced.
This I firmly believe will help provide a necessary check and balance system. Both parties are vital in the preservation of the balance of political power. However, they need a mutual meeting of the minds, whenever possible. In order to serve the American public who voted them into office in the first place.
May the best men and the best women ultimately become elected to the highest political offices in our beloved country. "God bless America land that I love. Stand beside her and guide her..." Happy Veterans Day may we never forget both your service and both your dedications to our country!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
November 11, 2020
Roxy Lea 1
It’s a very special moment to dedicate this day to our mothers,
It’s filled with meaning to give prominence to their roles;
their significance has shaped the future of men and women –
whose experiences speak a language of gratitude and joy.
Like in the bible when Yahweh formed Adam from soil,
and breathe on him and he came then into life – humanity;
Today’s event leads us to recall when mothers of all cultures
brought us to life and provided us with their love and patience.
Our identity began with that gift of life from God through them.
How good things in life are attributed to their maternal love;
How society honors them in their unique roles as mothers
They’re precious gifts from God and the world can tell us.
To be a disciple of Christ means to be recreated as a new person,
To be a son or daughter of our mothers means to belong to her;
To share gifts with them means to unite ourselves in their hearts,
with an act of transformation and reconciliation to all forms.
They’re paradigms of human sacrifice, love and perseverance,
Their lives have increasing movements of guidance and truth,
In many ways they show us to live in a zone of God’s presence;
with their prayers and wishes that their children will follow Christ.
We make known to them that we love them in a special way,
Their lives of witnessing capture the meaning of today’s event –
that unity they share with us, along with that great love for us,
are echoes of God’s kingdom that celebrates with the power beyond.
There is nothing more important to a child than to say ‘Mom’,
which signifies a colossal thing in regard to historic origin;
a mother to her children, a source of love in conversation,
along with her husband, there’s a covenant to remember.
Recounted as a significant moment to honor our dear mothers,
Both living and dead as they’re indispensable, bringer of love;
Pillars of joy, and a wellspring of family values to all,
Dear mothers across cultures - this is your day that we hail
We remember you with gratitude in our hearts that speak: happy mother’s day!
Already noticeably marked
increase in daylight
yours truly courtesy affected
qua heliotropic phenomenon
finds me noggin gently being tugged
upward and westward ho toward sun
after dark mine talking head
rests downward and eastward.
Soon very indistinct
environmental intimations
regarding onomatopoeic
ubiquitous murmurings,
whereby old man winter
ever so faintly
relinquishes, loosens, forsakes...
Judas Priest iron maiden grip
upon emergent biosphere
suddenly awakened when
Mother Earth generates
invisible signals transmitted
across world wide web
analogous to conductor
standing on podium
with baton in her/his hand
orchestra playing on cue
perhaps choice selection
Rite of Spring
work by Russian composer Igor Stravinsky
or Flight of the Bumblebee
written by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov.
Soon dormant species will exhibit rebirth
out their linkedin hibernation
flora and fauna tentatively
begin to issue forth out their slumbers
shoots poke thru across terra firma
insync with twittering tweeting creatures
hint viz verdant and/or fecund potential
ready to burst forth and proliferate
instinctively trumpeting joie de vivre.
Sensational show stopping, eye catching
breathtaking... parade of sights and sounds
await buzzfeeding eyes and ears
about six weeks hence,
within mine home box office
here at Highland Manor apartments
quite affordable rent
allows, enables and provides
radiant quiescence, preponderant observance,
nonresistant magnificence, jubilant innocence,
exuberant deliverance,
concurrent buoyant abundance.
Accordingly and allegedly other than
meteorologists plenti schooled
ascertaining onset of temperate air
more particularly otter den non humans
unassumingly (ferreted out), who bear
the tidings, when that season
of rebirth dawns with crystal clear
blue skies, and terrain where deer
and antelope eagerly play without despair
purportedly realized, reassured, recounted...drear
re: days vamoosed foretold by
Punxsutawney Phil on Groundhog Day