Long Repealed Poems
Long Repealed Poems. Below are the most popular long Repealed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repealed poems by poem length and keyword.
The luminous celestial body
Whisks resplendently through the sky
It’s capture is certain to elude me
Still, I extend my hands and try
Remnants ensuing a springtime shower
A concoction I wish to seize
I chase the tropospheres prismatic band
Scoffing the probabilities
A slumbering visual fallacy
Shrouded fantasies unconcealed
Desirous to abstain consciousness
Where reality is repealed
Natures many sumptuous creations
Each a wonderment to descry
There is just one that surpasses them all
And to this I would testify
A conglomeration of all things grand
The beating heart, the mind, the soul
God’s gift, the ultimate in miracles
Life; not in part, but as a whole
Form:
Even before the arrival of the first snows, so brilliantly candid,
we climbed mounts less dangerous than the Alps's;
and we proudly chalked it up to our experience.
Now the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders,
have lost their captious and so beatific image,
and quite too often we got pinched by burdock,
distracted by the robins chattering on a coarse descent;
I champed on crisp strawberries, while he challenged his strength.
My buddy never castigated me for my bizarre behavior,
and I admired him for displaying humor without repulsion,
or retort, and with chisel and hammer we engraved faces of historic men
on the smoothest rocks which were replete with their handsomeness.
Those adventurous afternoons are repealed when we look up,
and recreate them through our Male Chauvinism, cheery not dumb;
we felt like cave men making rudimentary drawings of their hunted animals,
while their women picked wild chicory for an early dinner.
Chums we were, resembling cowboys with wide hats in a chiaroscuro,
drinking in a bar filled with fashionable ladies frolicking and saying hello;
and chili con carne we ate, and plenty of beers to wash it down.
After our money was all squandered, our pockets were empty and we felt alone,
dazed...wobbling with fear, afraid to face our witless wives at home;
we were two idiots wooing empathy and some undeserving love.
And didn't they seem two witches ready for vengeance in their frown,
trying to squeeze the truth out of our silent and pretentious mouths too fulsome?
Frost will bring winter soon, and the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders will be covered,
our hair have turned almost white to match the bright color of the deep snows,
as this river is freezing up, to become a sheet of ice, where no boats or barges pass;
and we play chess, the intramural game of a confined life, without those clandestine affairs.
Our darlings approve with sweet intonation, intensifying their affection so amorous;
and we embrace them with that tenderness that they have long desired...
staring at the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders that these two climbers made their own,
remembering the cold and the shivering...coming down to a valley of comfort and domain.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The Letter
Kevin Davis 2024
When I was barely nineteen, I came home,
and my mother placed a letter in my hand.
Her eyes were wet; my father’s hands were shaking—
I tore it open before I could even understand.
The heading struck me cold: “Office of the President.”
No whim, no warmth, just verdict in its tone.
What could Richard Milhous Nixon want with me,
and what return did I owe to him alone?
His name was stamped as heavy as the seal,
a sentence carried in its rigid weight.
I’d known it was coming since the lottery was drawn—
my number had matched its waiting fate.
The letter began with its mocking word: “Greetings,”
so pleasant a mask for what it concealed.
But the body carried no welcome at all,
only orders that could not be repealed.
I let it fall, the paper limp from my hand,
my chest thundering like a startled drum.
My father bent, picked it up, and asked—
“Do you want it back, son?”
I forced a half-smile, though my breath was thin.
“How long before I have to go?
Should I think about Canada?” I joked,
though my parents’ faces told me no.
They held me close, their voices breaking,
and my father whispered through his sigh:
“Ten days, son. Ten short days—
enough for farewells, and time to say goodbye.”
All is quiet, all is still.
All is tranquil amid the chill.
It's late December, the moon is high,
Shining brightly against the sky.
The snow is sparkling in the street,
Like diamonds scattered beneath my feet,
Reflecting the light from the stars and the moon,
And out on the lake there's the call of the loon.
All nature seems to stand in awe,
On this the night God repealed the law,
Which separated us from Him,
And saved us from our shame and sin;
For unto us a Son was born,
Because of Him we are reborn;
So on this night we celebrate,
The Son of God, Love Incarnate.
We praise Him for His boundless love,
That brought Him from His throne above.
We praise Him for His bravery,
For buying us out of slavery.
We praise Him for His mighty power,
That saved us from a fate most dour.
Because of Him we need not grieve.
Because of Him it's Christmas Eve,
There was no alcoholics in my family,
but there was some heavy drinking on weekends.
Personally, I kicked the habit at a very young age.
Prohibition was repealed, but not in our home county.
I was to learn later that our county was an alcohol dry county,
but the county next to ours was a very wet one, and it always
spilled into our county and made it as wet as wet could be. If for
some reason an adequate supply did not flow, there was always plenty
of 'home made stills'. I was always an inquisitive little lad and wondered
what all the fuss was about when it came to alcoholic beverages. It seemed
to make people joyful, smiley, and happy. So at around 5 or 6 years of age, I decided to take a sip of whisky, but I knew that I would have a very bad day if I got caught. There was plenty in the refrigerator and the coast was clear. It was now or never, and my venture into the world of alcohol became both 'a now and a never'. I took one drink and an internal combustion lit up within me like a fire cracker on the 4th of July. I don't know if AA existed when I was 5, but I did not need anybody's program to fix me. I both started and stopped drinking at the same time, nevermore a drink except for Holy Communion.
120520PSCtest, Story From Your Childhood Poetry Contest, L Milton Hankins
He entered the dark house
through the unlocked kitchen door,
his house until the separation,
found his way
down the dark hallway
to the bedroom,
hid in the closet,
the door slightly open to
a clear view of the room
in the half-light of a full moon.
Sweaty clothes piled
on the closet floor
didn’t matter;
he had other business.
He settled in
for a long wait,
almost nodding off,
staying awake
by rocking toe to heel
in his Redwing boots,
left arm cramped
from gripping his gun.
He could have laid it on the floor,
but he might not have been
able to find it in the dark,
so he held it,
and waited.
Soon enough.
there was laughter
in the kitchen,
metallic sounds of ice
dropped into glasses,
ardent whispers growing louder
as they moved to the bedroom,
dancing a bit,
arms around each other.
She turned on the bedside lamp.
Red removed her blouse;
she unbuttoned his shirt,
let it fall to the floor.
He kicked the closet door open,
stepped into the room,
raised his gun and shouted,
“It’s my turn to dance.”
Red turned...
Two bullets pierced his chest.
He fell backwards onto the bed,
rolled off to the floor,
didn’t move again.
The shooter stood quietly,
relieved and satisfied,
watching his wife
kneel beside Red’s body.
He sidestepped them,
switched off the light
at the open door,
turned to look back,
said to himself,
“That’s done...
I need a drink.”
The murder was ruled justifiable homicide.
He was set free.
That’s the law down here in Texas.
The applicable Texas law was written in 1856, and stated that, “Homicide is justifiable when committed by the husband on anyone taken in the act of adultery with the wife, provided that the killing takes place before the parties to the act of adultery have separated.” Texas law considered these murders justifiable homicide, and completely excused the killing. The law was repealed in 1973.
Paraphrased from “Law in Western United States,”
by Gordon Morris Bakken
The canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
A pale silver knife, not forged for war, I wield.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
The sky lies torn in strokes of celeste shade,
each slash more raw, no truth left unrevealed—
the canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
No brush can bruise the dark the way I’ve flayed
these hues loose, their former grace repealed.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
My muse—half shadow, half cascade—
emerges from each mark I will not shield.
The canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
No line stays; no form can be obeyed.
I seek what's felt, not what can be concealed.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
She stares back now, the shape that art mislaid—
a scar turned sycamore across the field.
The canvas waits beneath a tempered blade.
I paint the silence that the wounds betrayed.
Justice?? From some ( w e f ) sympathetic civil servant
Named stewart..' I see no reflection of it. Just a punitive
Ruling 'of lawfare' upon Pauline.' Who admittedly in my
View should study more uoon the person and familiy she
Defended.' The remarks of mahreen feraqui do have
A factual history, that put; Pauline should be able to air
Her views as a native Australian as well.' Even though i
Would take issue with them; I still recognise her as an asset to Australia quite apart from all else.' She should
Not be punished as if she had racially profiled mahreen.'
As for mahreen.' i take it she lives a most secure life in
The land she inhabits, though not being born there.' She
May well be sympathetic to historically indiginous peoples?
I do not know if she had ever lived among them? Maybe
She has? At Quilpe..Or St George or the territory? As a
Woman equivilent to their women? Maybe after reading
This she will try it? If she has not already? She might
Wish if she has daughters or sons? To take them there also? 'Just so she can get more indepth information' yet
Back to Pauline' Who from what I can see' is a honest
Human being, undoubtedly she has flaws.' I do you do so.do we all.' The victimising of her though is completley out of
Context' and I call for the punishment to be repealed and
The civil servant.' Hmm?? stewart.? whoever.' to be Sacked..
Sacked..Sacked.!! With a bad report.' These are my views.!
And I stood by Pauline.) In thst instance..Later i watched her abstain
On tthe hate speech bill along with malcom roberts.' To the countrys ill.)
Its up to you my people, move at the red earth level.' Be the storm be the
Earthquake, that is whats called for and needed.'
"She reassured me with an unfamiliar line."
Love is a mystery school, yearning for sages
well able to reckon sixes from nines.
True wits should elect sin's disbursements
rather than reflect on love's scenes of rushing bunglers.
Love is sick, blind, unkind. Aren't we cruel?
She chided: brush your flapper, dying blue
between that pair of cheese crackers.
Remove the Devil's Pitchfork from your hair.
Doubling as Dracula, your zeal repealed
by loving an unpersuaded other.
Stay not inconsolable, my weaning one!
She knelt beside me, interpolating my orations.
Entreat for veritable blindness to take better blame.
Apathetic to any flame, resisting even sipping sunshine
interred in the long night of voluminous drapes,
pray for cardiac arrest to efface 1700 hours of shadows.
Perhaps, pray you would love me, and I shall say something of it.
Lost Battles
Rubies and blue sapphires all winking in the sun
as they topple down the stream
today the bloodshed’s done.
Lo the fallen kingdom, the people all enslaved
wickedness upon them, not one will be saved.
Royal purple satin, overlaid in gold
carried in a babbling brook,
collecting river mold.
Lo the bloody water, the desecrated field
carrion birds as judges, and naught will be repealed.
Broken swords and broken shields are littered all around,
the body of a crownless king
is prostrate on the ground.
His arms are reaching toward the bank and nothing in his hands
outstretched toward a kingdom lost, upon the bloodied sands.
So kneel and pledge your fealty to the headless royal crown
join it in the depths below,
breathe in - and then just drown.
Or bow your head upon the blocks, the axe above you hangs
hunger for what once was yours, and suffer from the pangs.
No mercy will be given, no pardons and no grace
the foe is screaming at the gate,
“Surrender, show your face!”
The only option left for you is rise and try to run
or join the captive sapphires all winking in the sun.
10/13/16