Long Replicas Poems
Long Replicas Poems. Below are the most popular long Replicas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Replicas poems by poem length and keyword.
Read me verses
vibrant with life,
not sad epitaphs;
paint me my portrait
with a lustrous light...
be a Cavaraggio, or Rembrandt,
and my replicas sell in the market
for a price that suits any wallet.
I was given a name,
and with gilt I embellished it;
gladsome to glitter and giggle,
blooming as a rose bud caressed
by the wind's soft breath;
and its seed will be transported
far-away, to germinate by a godly temple,
and there I will meet a favorable, clement fate.
A tombstone is the place
for the soul's eternal rest,
my bones will lie within it...these brittle bones
once covered by flesh, but its spirit
will depart to ascend from the realm of mortals;
and sleep it will...until a mighty voice will awaken it,
there with the angels of Paradise I will write my praises,
and seeing the sorrow of the living, I will act upon their behalf.
Read me verses
vibrant with life;
epistles that the New Testament's
devoted scribes wrote.
Sing me odes of the glory to come, put aside
the longest elegy, don't trifle
with my final wish, everything else is trivial;
look into the Heavens, I will smile...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Dracula’s Daughter was not as scary as she wanted to be.
Is it because I am female? She asked herself, but this seemed crazy.
Is it because I am young? She wondered. Maybe a bit of a guarantee.
No, her father said, you just are not as frightening as you can be.
Dracula’s Daughter pondered this situation, wondering what to do.
She practiced her art skills and came into her own at age twenty-two.
By then her father and mother were also terrified of Devilita Lou.
She had earned their respect and caused their hair to turn blue.
Eventually Dracula’s Daughter became enthralled in the dark arts.
She could make cyberborg replicas of creatures without hearts.
Her parents were frightened of her macabre knowledge and skill.
Afraid that one day she would also kill them for the thrill.
7.Stranger Affair.
Reading between the lines of the end credits,
I realise I never knew you.
I could have asked but I was staring at you through the screen.
A one way mirror to identify the criminal who hurt me.
However, hurt people hurt people
So it was said men and women can't be friends,
And how we ended up a stranger affair.
A fatal attraction to the uncanniness of what shouldn't be,
And the good intentions of what we think is meant to.
A short stop along the wrong path at the spot where we'd secretly meet.
I have the option to move on,
Still I give myself up to hope...
That it isn't my ego that cannot cope,
As I try to recall having it all.
Throwing my voice only to find you are no longer my puppet ,
And I cannot pull at the strings of your heart anymore.
It would kill my girl to find out how I live for the chase.
Players only love when they are playing the game,
So femicide and misandry in the battle of the sexes is passed off as good sport.
I guess I forgot how to engage people any other way.
My girl is focused on the ring and does not know I'm a people pleaser,
Without any actual friends I haven't want to over.
I am a merchant by the side of the road selling souvenirs,
Replicas of the truth to bring it all home.
Relative to my greed is a little profit for me to buy a wife.
At least until she finds her worth.
She deserves the world,
But I couldn't let Michal go free because a promise counts.
As we try to figure what's the deal with women.
Killdeer
Killdeer Hidden in the crisp green field grass, my babies lay under our guidance protected as they lay nestled safe in a quiet place.
A nest I have scratched from a small shallow area in the brown soil camouflaged from sight.
Dee –dee- dee- dee-ee- kildee- dee-ee !
Bobbing my head up and down attempting to distract and lure the predator away from my nest as it comes near. Immediately my mate runs quickly to the left, feigning I have a broken wing I hobble to the right. It's coming to close; I spread my wings and take flight to escape taunting the predator with my call.
Dee –dee- dee- dee-ee- kildee- dee-ee !
We successfully succeeded to divert the predator away. I back track to my babies, shaking from the trauma I have gone through.
OH! No!
One of my young has ventured away from the nest I have to direct him back before he falls prey to one of our predators.
Thank goodness the others have remained hidden.
Replicas of ourselves, our downy fluffy babies are scurrying about following us. They’re foraging around for insects and earthworms since they are not old enough to fly.
My chicks will be on their own after their feathers and wing muscles are sufficiently developed for flight
©5/14/2015
Voice Call: loud, piercing kill-dee or dee-dee-dee.
• This was an experience I had on a church courtyard when walking my dog
Contest Name: Your Favourite Old Poem #2
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
WAY OF LIFE
engraved portraits
fundamental elements
of
elegance
& noblesse
an evident emphasis
shadowed &hidden
in
formal
tradition
an established
supply categoric
in strict
criteria
contact
thorough replicas
formed &contemporary
though
vague
bequeathed
with extraordinary quality
alluding epithets
of such illustrated
treasures
denied
in supplementary
composition
extended &originating
with
visual expression
both systematic
& somewhat
incomprehensible
this appropriate patronage
stimulated &recognised
then decisively
discerned
&
augmented
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
We two are designed to these ebbs and troughs,
Gyro dynamic tempos to clench the soul,
And gnawingly let go,
Let flow
Far far away into sunsets,
And let grow further away into context,
Vegetate a garden of Compiegne lustful deceit,
And profanely reap the dreams that seem too far to reach,
Expedite in space time continuums of monads and adversities,
Validate the limits of Heisenberg’s uncertainty,
Certainly only to find you with me,
In hypothetical pasts that existed in these realities,
In dreams and pageantry indeed and fallacy,
Magically i.e. quantum mechanically,
Up up and beyond the pragmatic obtuse notation,
Lets escape on a star by motions of Schrödinger equations,
To serotonin states of patience,
With excepted placement and by our astral tribes,
Who could pedagogically prove the metaphor of how two worlds collide,
Rotary rotary Concaved, convex photonic light distributer!
Does this automaton hold my heart within her future?
The fate absoluter the limited suitor,
I'd experience this attraction if I was robotic.
Cardio hydraulics id drowned for you in a heartbeat,
If you depart this 3-dimensional carcass and were not mine
Move slower than the speed of darkness and remain lost in the past a thousand times!
I'd substantiate the replicas of emotional bliss,
Though we know that Love isn’t real, I know that this is,
And if the dead souled quantized ruled from above,
I'd forever encode my hard drive with the algorithms of us.
The MAN
-THE SPIRIT-
- THE SEED
All dwell in the same abode
In the temple
where they are ripened
to be born -
Conditioned in holding tanks.
THE swishing of moving waters
gentle memories
conditioned in silence.
in holding tanks that were replicas
of wombs.
gentle memories from the world
where angles fluttered.
Imaginations are contagious
we all had the same dream
The MAN
- The spirit-
- The seed
delivered unto the
vastness of judgement
hated femininity-
no earthly peace.
When man has the gift
in spite of you,
You insult his dignity.
No peace on this plain-
Your haughtiness,
your naughtiness
naughtiness is too
of a word nice -
maybe babies are- the word
Strange, is better.
The MAN
- The spirit-
- The seed
There is something about the lips -
Lips,shaped like
(pictures I have seen)
of cherubs mouths.
But still we have not perished.
All imaginations
could not bear witness
to the same whatever.
someone is sick
caught some disease
came from poverty and
blossomed like a lily in a
cesspool pond.
Hearts seeking
solace inside
The sweethearts
the clean-hearts
deep immersion
where no pain dwells
where the well disciplined
well guided-thoughts
are ushers in my temple.
The inner silence where -
No thoughts run ramped
My peace of mind-
my saving grace-
from the world i have to face.
The flute talks the
flute is my guide
I am still. Just still.
CLEAN-HEARTS
INSIDE-
WHERE
THE INNER
SILENCE RESIDES ...
and no
creature be despised
neither
The MAN
- The spirit-nor
- his seed
The drop of water on the grass,
on the soil, it makes it sprout...
let the green
always be the novel paint,...
do not burn the earth!
hearing the bird sing
its free corner in the air...
I ask, let life live,
let beauty rejoice!
Praise the singing,
applaud the magnificence,
say thanks for the creation...
all come from the sun vibrations
of light that come out of the sky
to the earth since
and the start and forever...
real gift from the divine,
heavenly bounty...
let us praise with glory,
let us vibrate with the honor
of being special...
we are prime expression
of completeness....
Minimum, maximum replicas
from the highest...
May all the best,
Everything comes from the Lord...!
Suggestef song https://youtu.be/h5D3LEjGF8A
Morning HAS broken From Eleanor Firfean
sung by ORLA FALLON
Day after day I sit, poised deep in thought and contemplation
while tourists stop and stare at me with eyes of admiration
Sometimes they seem hypnotized, looking without blinking
I wonder what they would think if they knew what I was thinking
I wish Rodin hadn't sculpted me wearing this scowl of a frown
I'd wink and smile back at them if I could put my right hand down
I've seen children hide their eyes when they realize I am nude
Rodin was the sculptor, so don't go blaming me. Don't be rude!
I don't mind being in the buff. Who needs to wear proper attire?
There's a lady who visits me on weekends, eyes filled with desire.
I was originally called 'The Poet.' Maybe you didn't know that.
But the museum guides never mention that in their chitchat
"And here, ladies and gentleman, the most famous Rodin of all.
Six and a half feet tall, having a place of honor in the gallery hall."
And if I'd been standing, my height would've reached twelve feet
My butt is really getting sore from seating on this pedestal seat
The gift shop sells replicas of me. I've been reduced to pint-size
and after one hundred, thirty-seven years, I've started to oxidize
Great. Here comes another tribe of school kids, all chewing gum
I guess they'll wad it up and giggle when they stick it on my bum.
So goes the inescapable days and nights of a sculpted work of art
I have the capability to feel because Rodin chiseled in me a heart
8/19/17
Resuming bulk from those which almost don't exist
Stoic in my unique role, careful timber tiger crafter
Tiny depicted tigers roll on wheels, pulled by strings
Lasting remnants of an animal disappearing faster
Eager tourists, affluent enough to pay admission
Flock to witness the final marsupial's mystique
Many striped predecessors, hunted to extinction
Troops are scouring habitat, a specimen they seek
Partnerless canid cage pacing future seems bleak
History's camouflage hails a shameful critique
Rucksack bumpy with fifty wooden replicas
A long week's worth of care, painted precision
I trek a mile of of dense hill bush hike arduous
To give Last Tiger shop their hot cake provisions
Tabled display draws awe stuck children, ironic
Their admiration for wooden scuptures intense
Crazed praise for rare cat, manic sprung from it
Taking my pay, ready to repeat, my heart laments
For the futlie pursuit of proud viewers' affluence
Satisfaction part macabre holds their suspense
Hessian emptiness nestled beneath my armpit
Familiar meander to log stumped hut, return to task
Seeing striped stirring, captures, breath insufficient
Thylacine's elusive emergence, most likely the last
He growls, scared departure means an outcome grim
Finding my voice, I tell him I need him to maintain
My craft, - his image inspires it, - I'll never exploit him
After fragile minutes, his wavered trust, incredibly gained
Following yellow bush thigh high survivor anointed
With thylacine compassion, - he is home,- reunited
8th August 2020