Long Relevance Poems
Long Relevance Poems. Below are the most popular long Relevance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relevance poems by poem length and keyword.
Who gauge a crown with stars at its edge,
and fathom hollows beleaguered trails.
An unmarked course decorates the pledge,
may tether the ring that brinks its ledge,
the faithful choose sky-map to lead sails.
Instruments and gadgets beg a touch,
there's more to be that makes a wonder,
this and that may serve their purpose much,
the dream remains lest they'll be nonesuch,
let strength soar and the weak go under.
No small outcome affects such a trend,
for the passage takes time that will cost,
as novel concerns promptly descend,
who'll be the wiser, a fool ascend,
impulsive predicaments, claims lost.
Star jumpers uses time just because,
the relevance bears no consequence,
... till, time travel--worthy for a pause,
redo's and reviews, for errs, check flaws,
back to Plan A, ... but, ... add the sixth sense.
Unexplored regions challenge like bees,
too soon to choose a risk you will lose,
time's created for necessities,
prompts none to favor to win with ease,
cast a world less one constant amuse.
Harmony soothes what tragedy flits,
the ancient mariner in full spring,
a starry heaven affairs true grits,
ample weighs a voyage chart by wits,
the wellspring flows free -- if anything ...
There's no Poetry that doesn't reach
I told a literature student
In a writing workshop
Offering him some suppositories
That contained
Verses from The Book of Good Love
La Celestina, Don Quixote, and my own
To insert through his anus
As minstrels used to do
Selling or giving them away
To the common people and kings
Through the streets, squares, and courtyards
Poetically exposing themselves
By inserting one through the anus.
Since it was a proven truth
It was natural that its main source
Was experience.
Devoted to the Poetry suppositories
The student carried them in his anus
Full of meaning and beauty
For if he entered the writing workshop
Without knowing how to make an "O" with a Straw.
Now, thanks to the effect of the suppositories
He already wanted to trade his verses
Having to go through
One or more of my modifications.
As a consequence
Of the two fundamental properties
Of poetic suppositories:
Permanence and generality
This apprentice writer and poet
Begged me, saying:
-I'm starved for fine literature
Even though it's so beautiful.
Now I want you to offer me, professor
Suppositories from the Romancero
From popular couplets
From Latin proverbs
From the Bible, from fables and tales.
Moved, I promised him that I would
That I would do it
But that he should also know
That to versify and write
It's not enough to insert a suppository
But rather the Anus
Because it's the fruit of popular wisdom
And of language
Needs oral or penile transmission
Because it's a living organism
And, as such, it is born, grows
Reproduces and dies
Like the poem or brilliant writing
Modified to hanging eggs
That, with time, change
Are modified or lose their relevance.
In closing, I would like to mention
That this author
Submitted his works to the Planeta and Nobel Prize
Admiring their juries for
His conciseness and power
The symmetrical division of his texts
His meter and rhyme.
Like coincidence,
We are a wonderful incidence.
We are friends who always meet again.
With a treasury of memories
We always were friends with ease.
Always remember you and me, please.
Like eminence,
We are of significance.
We are friends in resonance.
Through this book of time
We always are friends with prime.
Always look back at our good times.
Like prominence,
We are to each other of relevance.
We are friends by providence.
Alongside this road of endeavour
We always will be friends forever.
Always think of one another.
Like diligence,
We always together advance.
We always star in life's dance.
This I promise you,
We are friends thick and through.
We are friends so true.
She’s coming for me
The things that I have said
Shh! I’m already dead
She’s coming for me
I’m laid back
But I spit like a demon possessed dragon
An angel colored in darkness
Drunken from life and staggering
What’s behind this kids eyes
The homeless shadow he carries alone
The story behind the songs
No I do not speak in tongues
To live a casual life is not to seek to be hung
There is no forgiveness for cursing your living
Consequences circle my thoughts
Shaded purple is my appearance for resisting the law
I can make my words seem of innocence
Or I can make my words keen of relevance
Two murders in Genesis
She’s coming for me
I lay down; I’m troubled in my peace
I wake up to visions of my flesh deceased
She’s coming for me
The things I’ve to often said
My souls coughing, seems I’m already dead
She’s coming for me
If Emily—Ms. Dickinson—could pen
fresh lines of verse today; what, I wonder,
would she say? Where would she even begin?
How will today change her verse—I ponder?
Would the Lady in White still write of books, —
those “frigates” of the rich imagination
that find their way in the grooves and the nooks
of her most literary creation?
Would she still ponder the tried relevance
of Life and Dying—of Mortality?
Or what of the strange nearness of distance
imposed by our hi-tech? —what Irony!
No doubt, she’d pen that though Facebook’s fresh Faces
seem happy, they’re still empty in some places—.
Dark mischievous bedroom eyes
Are laden with lust and laden with lies.
They slowly cause my pulse to rise
And always do me hypnotize.
They exude passion’s lusty flame,
The flame that sears, the flame that maims,
While masking their sinful secretive lies,
Behind a seductive sexual prize.
Should I stay, or should I leave?
I muse while my heart rides on my sleeve.
Such eyes have caused the death of innocence.
And, as for love, they have no relevance.
So, I back away from those sinful eyes,
So laden with lust, so laden with lies,
Because bedroom eyes are pools too deep,
And always do dark secrets keep.
CELEBRATED TODAY AND ALWAYS
She is quiet and meek
She's nice and lovely
Talk about purpose and focus
Determination and zeal
Willingness and readiness alwaz ready and relentless
I speak less about her beauty
Others can testify to the power of her smile
Free minded like air, holds no grudge
Full of charisma and carriage
So rare to find the beautiful and the brainy
You don't find the so common
Graced with rays of intelligence
You can be assured of her competence
Never wear the shoes of negligence
Nor dressed in the robe of pretence
Can be so sure of her relevance
But don't try with her any nonsense
Happy birthday to you today
It is the day special among all days
We ll celebrate you today and always
Not a mistake today is Monday
It is the day that the Lord has made
Bigger and better you always
Happy birthday
FM (CONCEPTUAL)
What if I told you things aren't
what they used to be.
What if I told you clichés
are not always "for the birds"
That the Clichés cling for
a reason and have clung long.
Show me your truth sandwich;
What ingredients did you use?
Smoked lunch meat and cheese
Did you eat that, digest that?
What if I told you cheese is plastic
And ain't what it used to be?
And chicken feed ain't, flies and grain
But Plastic and GMO corn instead.
Don't feed the pigeons, says the sign.
But we don't eat the pigeons here.
So we feed them, and they eat
bits of truth that we now turn down,
Pigeons fly around downtown,
Without true food, without the truth.
Show me your truth sandwich;
What ingredients did you use?
Peanut butter and Bananas?
Pigeons spread disease in excrement
With bits of nontruth, splattered all over;
Making a point about the truth the whole truth
and nothing but the moot truth “So help you, Hanna"?
Cliché' may be our only reality, because little truths
matter, relevance should never be Obsolete.
Big or small, the truth must massively
Combust into big explosions of honesty.
If you should turn your back on truth
You will be face to face with a lie.
The truth needs to matter again
Or nothing else will.
Me, I never learn from teachers
Could not speak till middle school
So I learned intuition from those who don't hear
Can't vocalize at speed of thought
Graduated five credits short by my words and thought
After being misunderstood, stereotyped and judged
by a equal man who looks down on those who don't
Fit in to the mold of him and discredited message
By way of being biast to propaganda and media
thoughts.
I don't wish to offend the art
But I have held nothing but words
I was to humble to speak
I tried to hide and searched for death
But my words are not mine there sent
And until I face fate I am unable to enter the gate
I wish not credit, for this is essence above a unique
soul
I can't speak these parables
To be scrutinized by those who follow only gold
From alpha to the end
There has been the essential divinity
In all so life could grow, love laugh, sin
Spoken word is to be cherished and honored
Only if bold, not self serving, and reasonable
To all human kind.
So what makes you upstanding
Arrogance, or hand picked syllabus
Which is of no relevance in the truth you are denying
Form:
In the labyrinth of our existence, where echoes of voices clash,
We are but wanderers, lost in a cacophony of senseless chatter,
Radio waves and television screens, spreading the spirit of noise,
We are filled with pointless expressions, endless streams of words and images.
Stupidity, never blind nor mute, dances freely in the public square,
It’s not about making people speak, but finding the spaces,
Those precious gaps of solitude and silence,
Where one might stumble upon a thought worth sharing.
Repressive forces do not stifle our voices,
Instead, they compel us to speak, to fill the void with sounds,
What a relief it would be, to have nothing to say,
To embrace the right to silence, for within that silence,
Lies the chance to frame something rare, something valuable.
In these times, it’s not the blockage of communication that affects us,
But the flood of pointless statements, noise without substance,
For what we call meaning is the point of a statement,
Its novelty, its relevance—these are the true measures of value.
You can listen for hours, but what’s the point?
Arguments strain our spirits, for it rarely makes sense to argue,
You can’t just tell someone their words are pointless,
So you tell them they are wrong, but wrongness isn’t the issue,
The problem lies in irrelevance, in redundancy,
In things said a thousand times before.
Relevance, necessity, the point of something,
These notions are a thousand times more significant than simple truth,
Not as substitutes for truth, but as true measures of its essence,
In the quiet spaces, in the silence between words,
May we find the rare gems, the statements that truly matter.