Long Reveled Poems
Long Reveled Poems. Below are the most popular long Reveled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reveled poems by poem length and keyword.
The day that followed . . .
Blossomed blue, bright . . . beautiful
Clouds towering into the heavens
Wheeling white, wonderful . . . wordless
The clouds danced in the expanse
Rolling on a sea of silence
Sailing soft, supple . . . serene
Saw nothing
Cared nothing
Floated away
Alone . . . . . blind . . . . . marvelous
mute!
The trees . . .
The trees reveled in their own wild
E m o t I o n s
Old Man Walnut – a true heart-wood
Big boned brooded black
Dark, dangerous, defiant
Lady oak took red at the edges
A deep striking flame-red
Her heart a luscious lively living green
A gentlewoman of a long experience
Patient, Peaceful, persistent and powerful
Elms burst yellow – effulgent
Cried for attention
Demanded attention
Wind whistled wantonly through her leaves
Tall, tenacious, testy, temerarious
Some of the maples slurred
A bright primary red
Like harlots laughing, listening, languishing
Showed interest but cared for nothing
The Sweetgums stood aloof
Star-shaped leaves
Like bruises oozing deep purple
At first draft
S N
T A
O K
O E
D D
Abused . . . abandoned . . .
alone
Crape Myrtles cluster together
Gossiping busy-bodies
Bursting orange with outrageous desire
Watching, wanting, waiting, wanton
Modest were the Aspens
Slender and graceful
Giggling trees
But where they were
They were so many
They could afford to be
Modest, monomorphic, musical, memorable
The Pines and firs
Raising forth green among the colors
Unchanging
Unwilling to change
Criticizing by their contrast
every other change
The Woods
The woods
The chaotic woods
The heartless forest
And the trees . . .
. . . . .The boughs, leafs, limbs, roots
That whole glorious community
Simply went about its
Natural business
Another day in creation.
Live and Love Generously
On wings of twilight her hopes flew away
As day eagerly swam into night
Simply had not been a wonderful day
Stars in the sky were a glorious sight
Filling ethereal heavens completely
Showing her optimism so sweetly
Feelings of pure love were in the air
Could she forgive herself? Would she dare?
Evil doubts within her soul began to ring.
Her emotions were not easy to share
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
She sat by river on the south side bay
Figuring out how to make angry thoughts right
Gentle ideas escaping for sighs far away
Glowing in her dendrites, bits but so bright.
Plugging in gaps ever so casual and neatly,
In a manner as to not defeat thee,
Yes she had been betrayed, flayed full bare.
Could she release this anger now? Could she dare?
She had been the victim of a masochist’s fling
This humiliation she was not ready to share.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
Gathered sorrowful ideas in a unique new way.
Determined to obliterate the blight.
Exploded with truth, mighty pen had its say.
She wrote down sad feelings into the night.
Enjoying her perch down by the sea,
And shade of a tiny bonsai tree,
Self feelings smiled, she remembered to care.
She had been lured to an evil one’s lair.
Feelings of worthlessness began to sing.
Forgiveness of self is now parading in air.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
Joined momentarily by a fat hopping blue jay,
She knew what she had penned was amazingly right.
She reveled in daylight sun’s prettiest ray.
Watching the jay ‘til he flew out of sight.
Feeling this instant she was at long last free.
Absolved of blame by God’s glorious sea.
As she wrote it down and began to share,
Her heart was lifted by daybreak’s hopeful air.
Doubts flung out by a David’s giant sling,
Writing was cathartic, easy to bear.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
With a hidey ho and a hey, hey, hey,
She followed her bliss with all of its might.
Her words of truth were now in full display.
She knew she would sleep better that night.
Feelings of relief had overcome thee.
She recovered her soul life down by the sea.
The rest of her life seemed more than a bit fair.
For herself, she again started to truly care.
Warm heart full of hope began to sing.
Possibility of true love now in the air.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
It has become painfully obvious that the only way to be heard
is to pay through the nose to be a lifetime nerd,
the way to be read in on this sight
is to pay through the nose with disdain-unslight
the drivel/dribble practicum that is profound in it's reading
is a joke, sickening jest this side of profane with often open ended
vocab blur bleeding from a finger up my butt countenance, hey I can be a pooret
yet as in all ways money that talks/squalks/walk the bills
up/on cuming and its resolute intercourse interims the slash good words for the sentient freefall to the ills of my **** really mean/matters/ ratiorationale reticient/demeanor/demonstrative/destructive co cliff effervicient
sentient fecal savored poetic prickprofundity perversing on pisspoor gobetweens
prepostured with sitesucking positiveprevelance performance preludes of lifetime member promises. GoThe usual suspects figure.
As GMarx once reveled in his Libra coutenance, "I would not want to belong to a any club that would have me as a member"! So be it as u quali/quasi/qualify your
intermiserable inputs from lowly wantobe"poets"? Really, where do you get this chum encrusted fecal crap?? Love, beholding, misery, misertudes of life and sequesters of social misfitted miserdoms as to your innane, irrelevant, idiotic, interpretation of the serial social merits of human america and its poetic sense, and the globe as it is. I haplessly hope that in the humo state of written wrongs that u hate my stuff sur-plenty of desolution row and the good of for what it's worth in my non sequential birthday of sixty something nothings per social senses.
my money nevertalks, even on this lice level. D--aaamn.
Never let it me be told that for me
to be hold in an equal fake frequence with all of the hard-on Dr. Filth viagra statue status that I can speak from my borrowed loaned loins and be heard to a pro poem status dollar of signoff significance.
I know I am being obtuse and indifferent as I don't want to play the $$$ poe whore game that would catapult me to the upper stratosphere of a poetic Zeus, Oden and the like in your eyes, as talent not matters. WTFE. But alas
keep me in your prostratic/pussitic poetic poison prism, Dave. "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers". Otherwise, FU. Keep the faith.
I was born married to the master of subservience,
fell in love with the master of somnolence.
I dissolved Reality, divorced carnal calamites,
and the raw ache of captivated chaos.
I commanded a tactical tilling of damning emotions
and made a bed among the poppies,
so I could forever seduce Sleep at the edge of Oblivion.
I sold my soul and barely chafed chastity
for a phenomenal phantasm of passionless pleasures
beyond Gates of Ivory.
Wafting winds cradled creativity and I was a starving minion,
a zealous zephyr, questing after the deep highs
to capture luscious laughter and opium kisses
from Slumber’s linen wings.
My psyche reveled in these unrestrained orgies
climaxing far above ashen alleys
where life corroded the living.
A patron of illusions,
always hunting for more fruitful fascinations,
avoiding natural navigations through wicked whining
and the sight of probing pairs of crescent craters
searching for substance in battered faiths.
Deliberately oblivious to the sadistic salutes
of Godforsaken souls;
sleep inoculated against plagues of Pathos
that dawned with prehistoric procreation.
Amethyst apparitions fiercely feigning blindness
replaced callous captions with textile thoughts;
such beautiful deceptions, flawlessly manufactured
to be reality resistant.
Yet, I was sleep abandoned,
blistered by drops of winged darkness,
deceived by twisted twins.
Euphoria arrested, phantom limbs flailed,
swatting swarms of bleak sobriety
but Death was already aroused,
masturbating memories I thought I’d purged.
Retribution for a life lived at the edge of death?
Pollyanna caught loitering, rotting in sweet dreams
and living in the mirrored mirage of a Glad Book illustration.
My disturbed somniloquies became railroaded ramblings,
paranoid confessions of a Happy Addict,
torn from forgotten scenes, stripped of sunny sided semantics.
Death swaddled my crippled soul
mummified in the bunting guts
of my patchwork playground.
Each time I blink a resentful, halcyon curtain cries
yearning for my cuckolded Life.
This restless, sentient existence is eternally mine,
dictating discharges of cruel insomnia.
Pinched, folded, and squeezed
in the fiddling fingers of inescapable reality.
FASCIST STATE
They did not come upon us like blitzkrieg in the night
or goose step into town like a plague of parasites.
They crept on us like shadows in increments so small
they did not seem, at first, to be that menacing at all.
But an eerie posture lurking in those twisted silhouettes
triggered in my senses the twinges of a threat.
So when I turned to look at it what loomed before my eyes
was a figure black in battle dress, fully weaponized.
The more I studied it the more my inclinations ran
to perceive it as an insect rather than a man.
It was clad in armor that formed a battle skin
like some science fiction creature’s exoskeleton.
Peering like a mantis, devoid of all remorse,
it assumed the posture of a ruthless brutal force.
Unmoving, it awaited some unsuspecting prey
to trigger programmed instincts into deadly play.
It was not a thinking thing but a proxy sent
to execute agendas of torture and torment.
It was posted as a sentry by a calculating hand
to reinforce the stranglehold of evil in command.
Secure in it’s status as an instrument of pain
it stood rigid in a posture of arrogant disdain.
it’s value was its ignorance, it did not comprehend
that it would be destroyed when its purpose came to end.
It emanated coldness so inhuman that it seemed
to have stepped from a nightmare to stomp upon a dream.
The whole landscape of existence changed dramatically
beneath the hostile presence of such raw authority.
Where once the streetlights offered sanctuary in their rays
they now morphed into searchlights hunting down a prey.
Sirens screamed atrocities that took the aspect of
a jackboot psychopath with a fist inside a glove.
Beneath the cyborg menace was evil more discrete
skulking in the think tanks, and the bunkers of deceit.
A covert insurgency of social engineers
bent on the subjugation of the hemispheres.
Through orchestrated episodes of endless global war
they reveled in their orgies of sabotage and gore.
The sentry was the whipping tip of the chain of command
lashed across the back of every dominated land.
What darkness of impressions an image can command
when the shadow of a fascist state falls across a land.
Little Bo-Peep adored playing hide and seek, hence the fond nickname;
Just as hued rainbow is named for its dazzle, so radiant over every lane!
Bo-Peep was eight, and lived on a farm. She had various loves and joys.
Her world was full of magic and make believe, and she had sparkly toys.
But Bo-Peep loved more than anything, tending peaceful, fleecy sheep,
A task she'd only recently started. She loved the gamboling and leaps!
Friends Frances and Faye flew kites with Bo-Peep, in berry colors, deep;
And loved folk dancing at sunset flame, under the fuchsia sky mystique.
Familiar February had fallen fast, and yielded to fresh, fragrant flowers,
In leap years of fevered, family visits, when green bared mystic powers.
Bo-Peep lived in the house of enigma, ever hailing moments unfamiliar,
When moon and sun played hide and seek, as time turnt gold and silver.
Red robins roamed rouge, dusk skies, near the royal, Ranunculus Road;
And buttercups really brightened the rosy route, where breezes blowed.
Nature knew nothing but budding, when neighbors visited the sunlit days,
In a nectarine season of noble lives, when they followed the golden rays.
Crimson bellied birds faced ruby sunset, raining its beams like cherries;
And 'lady of the night' orchids reveled in moonlight, observed by fairies!
Elegant orchids were dressed up and dancing, along hot streets of gold,
When 'blanket flowers' draped stuff with color, prettying the dull and old.
One day Bo-Peep got lost in a daydream, as the frisky lambs wandered.
She abruptly realized they'd all gone! Like seconds eternity squandered.
No bleating or baas could be heard, and there was no sound near or far;
For, not even pink robin was heard in that moment-in a stillness bizarre!
After searching the farm in vain, Bo-Peep confessed it all to her parents,
Who were calm, wise to ways of sheep; as diamonds ken facet moments.
'Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them.'
Everything was coming up roses by dawn, like burgundy sun and blooms;
And the lambs had all returned, like spring green, emerging from its tomb.
Together we dueled and alone you wept,
Deep-down I eked out
Which made me to read your mind.
I asked for your hands
And averred you to have it coming,
Oath taken, but you fell behind –
I couldn’t cope
What was bogging your mind.
I asked you to be cadged and free your mind –
I just wanted you to be mine.
You realized and then you intimated the fact
Affirmed you then as a credence
To what you have gone through;
Lightly I then asked for your hand.
You wept for, what you don’t deserve to
And fell down upon my shoulder.
What I deserve was only you
And once you felt
You avowed my heart.
All so far we shared word by word
And you started to smile back,
You raised your hope upon my longanimity
Yet my love for you felt back.
Sketchy two souls yet intimacy inflated
Muted few moments and dustups uprose –
I heard your confounded voice,
Yet I fenced.
But then again,
I cried, I hoped and I implored
I bade for myself to grasp my heart.
Alone I felt and yet you calmed me
But thronged with fury
I realized, it was too late.
Left you behind to your own world
Where you said you will be happy -
The only thing that I couldn’t ceded,
The love that I felt for you could not be regretted.
I left alone once again with memories I cherished
I smiled with drops of water from my eyes.
Days seemed to me as years,
And time gave up my tears.
You smiled back once again with a new life…
And I kept my promise, I didn’t look back;
You let me go where I settled no-where…
I lost myself leaving behind allegiance desire.
I stand-alone myself without fear
A dire arouse and I took it as a dare.
I tied up myself and reveled with new aspire…
Yes! I left your memories, and I left it by.
I heard your voice once again, yet I didn’t fumbled,
Your tears then proved me -
Yes! I can live without you, with no tears,
Yes! I’m living without you, with no fears.
I smiled once again and I started to live afresh
Where I left you behind to your own world
Where you said you will be happy -
The only thing that I couldn’t ceded,
The love that I felt for you could not be regretted –
Yes! You were my love and you are
But I can live without you, with memories faded.
10/2/12
-------------------------
Reveled through the world His words are cherished
Many read the peace of His words, yet works be perished
We see the problems without the power to cure it
Lacking the wisdom we need and God’s Holy Spirit
The Feast of Tabernacles calls many to action
And with it comes happiness and endless satisfaction
Five aspects will lead us closer to the mind of God
He shows us a clear path though our ways are flawed
The paramount action is respect to one another
To be present, formal and kind to each other
What we wear physically and spiritually is important too
To be humble and dedicated in all that we do
The second call for action is the call to rejoice
To enjoy physical food and drink—the desire of our choice
To stimulate the mind with gladness and cheer
And be thankful for our trials as we ponder the year
The third act is important and it is to recall
All the blessings and promises of the coming Kingdom of God
To read back in scripture to the great men of faith
Allowing your mind to rest from the wreck of sin’s ache
As we recall we find it necessary to recommit
To be re-awakened in His life—to make something of it
We may want to acknowledge where we have fallen short in the past
Not dwelling in the desires of physical life—the things that won’t last
The last course of action will help us toughen the shell
We must recharge to build—keep refilling the well
By the Spirit of God we are quenched in barren terrain
Releasing sheets of merciful, cool rain
Many will suffer before the peace begins
But continue we must until the very end
I wish all could know just what is in store
God will reveal it eventually—just knock on His door
Encouraged by the Spirit we become the light
Defying worldly governments—refusing to fight
Shortcomings are inevitable and mistakes will be made
It is not difficult to fall—to be easily swayed
“People can be free, but still enslaved"
But in the end, all will have the chance to be saved
Look to the Bible and try what you read
Perhaps you’ll discover where the narrow path will lead
*inspired by David Hulme*
Face Time
By Franklin Price
02/22/2022
In the middle of last evening, my cell phone began to shrill
I answered, there was baby Dean, being held by Auntie Lil
Technology is wonderful. Last night it made my day.
I watched, my tiny great grand son, in color, not in shades of gray
Looking on were mom and dad; just as proud as they could be,
Their smiling faces beaming, all of them, face timing me.
Not only was there color, there was motion, don't you know
And sound to fill the senses, then baby Dean put on a show
He cannot walk or talk as yet. He cannot sing or dance,
He did, what infants do so well, put a load within his pants.
I could tell, by looks on faces, and an exclamatory eeww!!
That he had filled his diaper, with more than just a little pooh.
Mom took him from his auntie, stripped him bare to shoot the moon,
As she was cleaning up the mess, he cried out loud, a different tune.
“Be careful while you're down there”, I heard him say in baby speak.
“Be tender while you're working, I've been here but just a week”
When the changing was all said and done, and his butt was squeaky clean,
Their cell phone shot some close ups of that handsome baby Dean.
His hands and feet were moving, all his parts were in their place.
His head was filled with wispy hair. There was a smile upon his face.
Barb was looking o'er my shoulder through God's grace and loving care
Was enjoying her great grand son and the family gathered there.
We reveled for a minute more, then she left me with a smile
“I'm going now to be with them. I'll be back in just awhile”
Just before I hung up, and the Face Time was all done
Their home became a little lighter, brightened up by Barbara's sun
Her presence is there with them and is also here with me
She'll be with us all forever, in our hearts and memory
I'm looking forward to next time, the next Face Time video
When I can see them once again, be a small part of the show.
God willing, in the month of April, I will visit for awhile
Cradle then, great grand son Dean, enjoy firsthand his joyful smile.
The earth dried and withered. Rivers turned into desert, flowing springs into
thirsty ground and fruitful land into a valley of salt. The world languished, and the
people lay in dust as the land trembled. It was shaken like a hut in the wind and
torn open. Great structures crumbled into heaps. The vine was, also, cut down
by lightning and was burned in the fire and quaking.
There was no more trumpets sounding; the straight trumpet was no more
seen in this dry and weary land, where no water was; souls thirsted in anguish.
Flesh longed. Voices cried out,
“We have seen desperate times’ hard things that astonish us, and
we reel as those who drink wine and stagger.”
Even the merrymakers groaned for the new wine that had dried up in its
bottles; therefore, in dust and ashes, this, they made their lament.
“Remember us, O Lord, and what has happened to us. Look upon
us and see our disgrace. Remember our devastation and have pity. Show forth
your mercy and forgive us, for we have reveled in gluttony and drunkenness and
turned everyone to his own way. We, now, see our destruction, that we are
slaves to folly, and, again, we turn to you. So turn us, O God of tender mercies.
Manifest your loving kindness, which is better than life, and show favor to your
land by restoring its fortunes.”
“Mend its fractures! Heal its breaches! Give us your aid, for the help
of man is worthless. He is vain, but you, our God, alone, make your face to shine
on us with salvation. Save us.”
“May the waters see you and writhe; may they convulse in fear. May
the clouds pour down water from you upper chambers, when you answer us out
of the secret place of thunder. Split the rocks so that the waters may gush and
flow abundantly as the seas, and out of the rocky crags cause you rain to stream
like rivers, yet, remember your faithful promise and give us a banner that we may
unfurl and display under the bow, and when the waters have subsided, bring
your vine up out of Egypt.”