Long Revelries Poems
Long Revelries Poems. Below are the most popular long Revelries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Revelries poems by poem length and keyword.
I bring you a live commentary match between Sin and Grace
Sin are inches away to the box
Lust shots, Self-Control reacts well and blocks
Longsuffering has been fouled at the 18-yard
Pride has been booked, he gets a yellow card
Envy probing for a goal, last week he scored a brace
Sin camping on the edge of Grace
A change for Sin, Lust out for fornication
Game resumes, an untimely clearance by abortion
A lengthy spell of Sin possession
They are playing with so much aggression
Pressure still mounting on Grace
Pride dribbles past a marker and finds space
Anger is booked for pulling Gentleness
A shot! And Truth denies Falseness
And another glorious chanced missed
Envy out for murder on the final substitution list
The minute is ticking away and Grace are standing firm
A long drive by Revelries, a great save by Peace! What a gem!
A handball by goodness at the halfway line
But ref. Mercy says No! She waves play on! Mine! Oh mine!!
Self-Control goes for shoulder-to-shoulder with Anger
And he wins the battle of defender
Oh! Outbursts of wrath as he fires over the bar
Wrath burst forward again and finds murder afar
But Self-Control masterminded that move
What a game he has had! He’s surely improved
Four minutes to stoppage time, a long searching ball to Joy
He shots! And is a goal! Amazing goal!! Oh boy!!!
Sin were exposed, and Joy curled the ball pass Sorrow
Am flabbergasted! For Sin, the road to the final looks narrow
Grace are just a seconds away to the World Crown Final
And it’s all over here! Grace are in the World Crown Final!
An astonishing game! An undeserved victory!
Grace wins by a lone goal and Grace makes history!
What a graceful display from the visitors!
As they vanquished the inquisitors!
What should we say? Should we wallow in sin, so that God's Grace will overflow?
God’s [mercy] forbid! If we are dead to sin and alive in Christ, how can we go on sinning? [Romans 6:1-2: The Poet Preacher’s Version]
When the leaves fall, gently as the first kiss
From the mother who has just discovered the wonder
Of motherhood, the music – so very good…
Aching prayers, faded into the moss-grown forests,
Delighting the hearts who remember
The sweetest of loves, sometimes burn
Beyond December, with all its twinkling
Lights and promises of revelries,
Stirring the seas of mysteries,
Delighting the winds who aspire to sing
Life into the autumn’s dreams, autumn’s trees, autumn’s flames
Burning away the dross, left beneath the summer’s green,
Surviving the moments of disrepair, scorching the twilight
Who hears the silent prayers, the faith that reveals
What it means to listen, hesitant – to the blessings
Harvest’s healing, a welcome gift, exalting
Coloring the whole heart in autumn tones,
Rescuing the memories from their broken notes, journeying
On and on, through the maze of a grace that can’t know
What it means to love with a love that overflows
Bursting from the cups of those who remember, more than December
More than the pumpkin’s spice and the blond maples who delight,
More than vibrant hues of a praising, so alive that it must survive
Blending into the comforting blue of October’s sky,
Breaking through the easy charm of November’s muse,
Bleeding light that stills the very soul with its truth
Still, beautiful, bruised by the stars and the moon who grieve
Telling us all how it feels to release the past, the leaves
Trembling in the faded afternoons,
Caressing the moments with a brilliance that adds joy to blue,
Like the mother, who sees – for the first time,
Her child who is a perfection beyond description,
Her hope is in the presence of a gesture, a blessing, a prayer
Spoken by the heart who knows that God will surely reply,
With a kindness that never remembers the awful September nights.
I had to sit through it all
the conversation that was inevitable
What they did
Where they went
What they saw...
My brother and his wife
On the their expensive trip to see Roger Federer in the flesh
My husband and daughter
On a trip joining work with sightseeing
And then there was me....
I listened...
Big Ben and its imposing height
Parliament's alluring might
Pics there at Downing street
Fish and chips, a tasty treat
Outside Westminster Abbey
The Thames in its flowing glory
London Bridge, Trafalgar square
Harrods and all the goodies there
The Shard and the tennis match
Souvenirs that were a catch
Brollies forgotten here and there
Poppies bobbing everywhere
The Palace and the Rosetta stone
Red booths housing telephones
Tussaud's latest entries
Baker Street and revelries
All this, and so much more
Stories of the trip...galore
I sat and listened to it all
Saw even more pics
In my heart a twisted ache
My teaching schedule and other things
Made me stay back home
It didn't make this night easier
I thought of all I'd missed
Sure, I'd been to London years ago
But somehow...this still hurt
I'd been left behind
The night blissfully came to an end
And here am I...writing this
with London in my mind
"London, BABY!"
Not for me...
Eileen Manassian
Yup....I'm having a pity party. Didn't go to London with the fam. I was all by my lonesome! I'm happy my daughter and husband got to see the sights. We'd been there when Shereen was six or seven, but now at twenty, she could appreciate it all more. It still hurts a little that I couldn't go along. Now all the talk is done...and I can put it behind me, till the day I go to London and experience it on my OWN! ;)
Form:
I once was a SEAL, an operator
I filled my country’s foes with cool dread,
Send countless terrorists screaming to hell
Where no virgins awaited the dead.
I met my own end many years later,
And a strange one it was at that.
Had a heart attack at a company game,
And died clutching a baseball bat.
I found myself inside of a great hall,
Filled with warriors from all the ages.
We drank and feasted, fought and caroused,
Celebrated life to the blue blazes!
A one-eyed God presided over it all,
And often joined our great revelries,
And more than once I took to my soft bed,
A stunning, strong, sweet Valkyrie.
But time went by and winter settled in
And stayed for three very long seasons.
Odin’s grins vanished like fog in the sun,
We pressed him to know of the reason.
He said ‘My friends, it is nothing you did
That makes me not want to drink or talk.
But the Doom of the Gods has now come home,
‘Tis the Eve of our fall: Ragnarok.’
I turned and looked to my fellow men,
Whose faces were still, and warrior-grim.
Mighty Odin, he then shuffled out,
And the great festive hall grew dim.
I said, ‘Well, if it’s really has come to this,
We should all of us be ready to stand.
At least this time we know in advance
Our enemy’s full battle plans!’
The morning came on Vigrid’s cold plain,
The Gods rode out as one to the fight,
They were dressed for war but fated to fail,
A predestined, and quite tragic plight.
But we all strode out before Loki’s horde,
And gazed out upon vicious Fenris,
And I turned and said the king of the gods:
‘Relax, my men have got this...’
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Out in the middle of a large farmland, I become a girl of old charm and unexpected songs again. Past the flanks where cluttered rows of hyacinths and ferns quiver, disarranged huts begin to shake as the rough wind wheezes. And on this late July, mounds of dust remind me of summers back in my grandfather’s hometown. Yet, a different vanishing overtakes me.
a season passes…
carrying all its flowers
to emerge as buds
Watching for thrushes that grow moist from dusky froth , my heels trek along deepened clay. As I lay on haystacks listening to stars chiming, the inky moon sinks its riddled face through a veil. Somehow, I feel alone...abandoned like the opera of a heart which seems to fall into a tragic ending. Yes, Grandpa isn’t around any longer, as a eulogy of tears swells.
on this barren field…
a solitary twig cracks
from one glittered tree
The nightfall drools looking for the yellow among clouds. For a while, the hazy outlines of strangers--native women and children ---disturb my old revelries when Grandpa would linger by the porch dipping tunes from his violin. Through calm intervals of laughter, we sway together; fire to air, salt to honey. Much as I need to inhabit this space, it no longer belongs to me, or to him. But twilight comes brimming with all the glistened jewels of our own world.
between two lifetimes
is a haunting melody…
like a song unsung
11/19/2015
Creative Haibuns Contest
For Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
The children shot rockets painting the heavens in psychedelic colours
And showers of fluorescent rainbow colours came dancing down
The air burst with thunderous rumblings of crackers and fireworks
Happiness cast its glow on joyous faces on the festival of lights
The house was spruced up and decorated with dainty tinted lamps
The curtain rods brightened our living room with tiny tinkling bulbs
A crystal bowl of floating scented candles, and tuberoses in vases
Lent an air of jubilance and romance to the home with the fluttering curtains
With drinks in hand the family reunion turned into a tipsy affair with many on a high
Our talking parrot was let out cage to stretch out his wings to enjoy its rare freedom
To make his presence felt he hopped around the dining table pecking into plates
And taking a sip from each of the family members clinking glasses, much to our delight
Lucy, our pomeranian, was taking turns in hiding under chairs when crackers burst
The revelries and fireworks had died out by the time everyone had retired to bed
Clearing the table of assorted bottles, I was shocked to see the parrot dead drunk
Hanging upside down the curtain rod crying, 'Lucy! Lucy!' to his friend in his cage!
June 3, 2016
For Julia Ward
* Diwali, an Indian festival, is celebrated with a lot of fireworks. It is called The Festival Of Lights
Regally it stands, the staunch guardian of her lonesome heart,
Reminiscing in revelries of yore, treasured memories impart,
Defying glum turbulence of now, hanging on to seasons past,
When springs-winsome banished, doldrums harsh-winters cast.
Disheartened, the gate harkens back~ O, so young its master died,
Lamenting of distressed times, when grief stilled her teary eyed;
Yet, with resolve, it squeaks its hinges, resounding a voice of pride,
Beckoning to benevolence of bliss, fate had so callously denied.
With kindred vibes it greets her, vying elation of cherished days,
Suppressing aches and rattles of its rusting, clamoring, phase;
Preferring realm of time, when he was the keeper of this place,
As dutifully now it opens wide, exuding mirth of youthful grace.
O, how fondly the gate recalls, dance of duo beneath full moon,
Humming melodies intimate, passions of doting souls croon,
Embracing celebration of life, as heartbeats enamored attune,
To rhythms emanating song of love, strumming infatuated tune.
Despite groans and whimpers, blaring aloud clattering of pain,
The gate vows to protect her, refusing ever to wither or wane,
Unwavering through thunders, rains, vicious strikes of feeble age,
Challenging its steeled bones, to gallantly defy seasons’ rage.
Centaurs
~*~
In Greek Mythology monsters come in all shapes
sometimes hideous and strange . . . often representing
the dark forces in life, creatures such as Centaurs-- part
human and part horse, they are man's unruly, instinctive
nature, less awesome that demons . . . they still harassed
and haunted humans. They had the head, arms and chest
of a man but the legs and lower half of a powerful horse.
These man-horse beasts led a lustful, drunken and savage life
and were fond of riotous revelries often writhing in fierce battles
with wild brute force . . . raping, killing humans for meat.
The wise Centaur, Chiron was a unique case-- he was learned
in music, medicine, hunting and war. He was friend to Apollo,
and Zeus, loved, admired and honoured by all the great gods.
He was noted for his gentleness and kindness and wisdom. . .
tutor to Greek heroes. When he died Zeus set him in the night sky
as the starry constellation known now as Centaurus.
____________________
June 5, 2013
Poetry/Narrative/Centaurs
Copyright Protected, ID 06-483-485-05
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Mythological Creatures or Birds
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton, Judged 06/18/2013
Ninth Place
This old oak-tree smiling through my balcony
Sways and swings cheerily, a happy emissary,
Budding new vigor upon tiny greenish leaves
Adorning exuberance of idyllic new morning,
Quivering golden-beams on dawning of spring.
When the sun rises, blushing mauve feelings,
Its gentle oscillations fetch tender sensibilities
Inviting sparrows to grace the stage of robins
In spontaneous outburst of ceremonial music--
Chirping, twittering, singing for the hatchlings.
As summer of my mind churns wistful stories,
Its white blossoms waltz tender warm breeze
And leaves flutter merrily, twirling to comfort me
When thoughts bygone nudge parched vagaries
Engrossed in realm of burned-out memories.
When autumn turns green into fiery-red leaves
As ruby sundown glitters on amethyst evening
And gusty winds rustle-in endlessly, ferociously,
Whirling flying colors, floating crimson revelries;
A few remnants cling-on, loath to forsake me.
Yet, brazenly I gaze away, ignoring its appeal
When harsh winter shudders essence of its being,
Quivering, shivering bare-skinned branches;
Staying beguiled instead on top of frozen hills
Where sunset articulates ochre-tinged themes.
May 26, 2020
Poem of the day on May 28, 2020
Placed 2nd: Brian's Choice Y Contest
Gypsy Queen
Catch a glimpse of her, standing near the willow
Long, deepest of black hair flowing in the winds
Her people stoke the fires, watch it dance and billow
All the dances and revelries, come nighttime begins
Such a beauty is she, mesmerizing are her deep green eyes
She watches over her clan, with the eyes of a winged hawk
Let no intruder enter camp, truthfully or in disguise
Be it human, or some form of evil spirit, lost in transient walk
She casts her gaze at me and I find myself lost in her glance
Her father, the elder of the clan, looks at me with utter disdain
Watches me, grave harm may come from him, rigid in his stance
“If you pursue my only daughter, my rage will be it, like a hurricane “
I cannot resist the beauty, the strength in her confidence
Within an aura of luminous energy, a brilliant light to behold
The way she walks, her steely eyes, her illuminating presence
Captures my heart in a mystic trance, for all my soul to uphold
The closer she approaches me, my pounding heartbeat a deafening sound
Her beautiful long sleek youthful body, within her spellbinding soulful eyes
All men fall prey, mere prisoners to all her mysterious charms abound
Such a rare angelic beauty, but alas, to pursue her would not be wise