Long Revels Poems
Long Revels Poems. Below are the most popular long Revels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Revels poems by poem length and keyword.
An unkempt man approached me one dark evening
'In pursuit', he said, 'of a favour'
'A drink' he explained, but I was unsure of his meaning
When he specified it should be of a refined yet peculiar flavour
Then as he percieved I was not repelled, he moved nearer to enhance his rapport
Until in the light of a streetlamp I could see the bottle he held
And I wondered what fate had in store
It was clear now he was dressed in strange clothing
Of a style that one rarely meets
Except for perhaps if roving, in a town of Dickensian streets
I failed not to judge as I leaned closer to hear just what he might suggest
I thought 'how gracious of me to humour this poseur
In his pale make-up, black bowler and velvet overvest'
On the bottle he held his black fingernails drummed
They were varnished as per his morbid fashion
And in his throat the tune he hummed
Spoke of past revels and passion
Until at last had mustered his confidence and a pleasing tone
In which he proceeded to intimate his desire
That alas, he possessed no blood he could call his own, so therefore he was forced to enquire
As to the possibility of a small donation, it would not take much time just a tick
The procedure requiring just two things worthy of mention
Those being a vein and a slit
Of course I recoiled aghast, and vainly attempted to call
As I found I could not make a sound
Then it was only when my head lolled down that I saw
His feet hovering an inch from the ground
I was unable to engage any muscles as a fingernail pierced my left wrist
Or when he filled his bottle with a pint of my best red corpuscles
Then pocketed it with a hiss
He said he could see why he might be reviled
For the comtempt he had treated me with
Then he parted his lips and smiled
To allude to the fiendish alternative
It was a smile of rapacious appearance, that made my heart shiver and shudder
For as anyone could tell from even that quick glance
His smile was a smile like no other
Then with a doff a wink and a smirk
He smoothly departed our puddle of light
And melting into the inky black murk
He receded into the night
Now whenever I am about after dark
I determine to not be so too late
And ever since that experience left it's cruel mark
I portage garlic cloves, holy water and a stake
Seeing this now, I still, being blinded by them I find I am still frightfully often fighting Him and
this, and these facts.
And knowing myself and knowing no other viable future, without Him.
His love, exults for me, all of us I believe, a true, permanent and abundant freedom and
universal peace, and liberty.
And remaining honorable, adhering to this principal, I believe it awaits openly, rising up each
moment to greet Him ... .
Is always hopeful and willingly revels in His patient coaxing of all of us to try and be as open
in all we do as well individually.
Wanting ... just like Him, in all honesty ... only the best for another and ourselves.
Believing, along with me as I am realizing now myself,
that His grace, always provides for everyone the same opportunity.
And as it moves freely, it sets aside the veritable ... and inevitable, and so I feel grace abides
in the overt nature of love.
Finding its refuge in the eminent fortune, of even more beautiful things to come.
Because I am finding that to love, is to be free.
Yes to love completely is to cherish the innocence within ... and abounding, through
embracing God, myself, another,
the veritable nature of this His world fully, at its and-mine all of ours our most vulnerable.
And so I know that through my schooling, and Him.
Like me ... now, I believe having no other choice tides are surrendered themselves, to the
greater gravity of the Sun.
And so still I know as well rising up honoring him us all of this world, to them scrubbing the
shorelines, blessing the life therein, through this process they are graciously cleans
themselves.
As in turn they are washed out to Sea, again blessing all the life within as they again are
brought to rise back up through Him to greet them behind the combined pull and timely
rotation of it and the Earth on the enchanting nature of the Moon.
All for perfect reason.
So knowing true love I feel is to accept its hand, and dance felicitously mid the tenderness of
its reflection.
Because what is more important to have?
"Feeling-safe" ... knowing a "Perfect" conditional faith and love, mercy ... ?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaR2JeqxQDY&feature=related
Darkness is he, soulless totally
It's abyss he commands, desiring what he sees
In front of him stands a virgin, pure as the driven snow
For white he knows it is, upon she his darkness will show
Long haired and silken clad, his lusting eyes allure his own
Is it fear that makes her pert, or the fear of being alone
*~*
Upon his lap she stands, so minute to his ogre mass
Her silken attire now torn, talon fingers on she he grasps
Innocent flesh he craves, to satisfy his empty soul
In his lusting abyss, his darkness will soon unfold
*~*
Petite, pert so perfect, ageing hands of his darkened past
Cup her porcelain charms, so grotesque is his grasp
Leering eyes of void, now alive to this virgins flesh
Excitement fills his wants, this maiden near total undress
A strangeness falls amidst this darkened scene
Has she succumbed, is she in the middle or has she seen
*~*
To his torso of centuries old, attention is drawn to he
Reciprocating she kisses in touch, with drooling eyes he sees
This virgin standing in front of him, allured now is she
So minute to his ogre mass, content she appears to be
*~*
Lips touching taste, eyes closed, are they in wonderment
Has she entered his darkened abyss, or is he now heaven sent
Lashing tongues, like a fencing épée now drawn
When his dark met her light, I struggle for the forlorn
Breaths are seldom apart, it's as if magnetic, they are
This join of abyss fuelled white, seems so bizarre
*~*
Lecherousness in his tasting rush, her scent he delves in deep
This virgin, this maiden so taken, to him now she seeps
Like diamonds, her pertness rises, en-capturing her charms
So different when she stood before him, all in alarm
*~*
Tailored they are not, such a difference in size
This virgin maiden so white, soon to be in firm cries
Thralled he now becomes, induced in his darkened dark
He now revels in his taken, amidst thighs of perfection arch
Forlorn has now become, a joining of lustful desires
Black locks now sway with delight, the dark now afire
*~*
Positioning, seasoned they are, in joyful joining crave
Now the darkness has seen the light, in typical deprave
Sighs now resonate, amidst his darkened dingy hell
The allure of purring white, increase his darkening swell
*~*
Circumstances...circumcising visions of premonitions
Orange sun shines on thousand seconds after dawn
Not that yesterday mattered anymore
Just so that you know, I'm sore...you're a bore and a flake...you're a fake and a whore...torn in tears...forlorn in fears...challenging them with cheers around here next to my family and friend peers
Understand I'm not ever alone...YOU SELFISH LITTLE B - nevermind...I ain't wasting my words on you...
Rage on a different page, hideously furious...in this cage of captivity...it's a pity you don't see the cuts on my wrists...conjuring crimson upon my bathroom floor...forevermore...fervently...forlorn...born to death now...somehow, lured in by shadows, who knows where the wicked wind blows...
Imagining you gone...imagine?
Noting this -- I have moved on -- where do i begin?
Get over it...Dave the Brave, I have my wits to be alit
Corny, but I'm illuminated, even intrigued by dull small talk because silence speaks louder and prouder than words, like birds, fluttering insanely...barely surviving and thriving...humility humps my mindset now...
raped by rue
i see you...
my, oh my
so much solitude and attitude of gratitude if only you knew...why...
omit the abyss...enter in, happiness
never exit in my mindset of eustress
organically awakened by October's Sabbathia moon...
not your so-called HalloweeN BS....
triggered.
hope you know i'm absurd...
eek! With or without you...I can speak...you don't know half i've been thru
delusional daydreamer I am...I am God's WANDERING, PONDERING AND SQUANDERING lamb...YES! I am...BAM! Got a problem that I'm as robust as a ram? Man...
oh, you are dashingly, abashingly skeptical of me? YOU'RE OBLIVOUS, u c?
oooh,
Rude...you say...you say today...
shut up...
true, listen...
empty...
Positively a door wide open without a key in it...my doorstep is dripping with blood...but, I wrap it with a handkerchief...Revelation revels through the realms of my roving mindframe....I'm not to blame...unhappiness just came...it locked me up into this game of shame...I'm not the same as you now see...I'm authentically...me...biblically...righteously...humbly me...no worries!
Despite the pulsing pirouette of urban thresholds,
coruscating catalyst amid detachment,
of golden spoke carousel magnetism,
circle-shape swivel platform roundabout,
that spreads incipient wish fulfilment caper,
as townscape dweller devotee who revels,
in gargantuan silver tinged mineral rush,
of prodigious scoop simolean ascent,
whilst duty bound vociferation from the margins,
will enlist majestic magnanimity befitting,
one of fundamental fortunate flair such as I,
yet one’s habitat has been subject to gauche portrayal,
shelter from Olympic speed amorphous target setting,
where serenity in its multi form expression predominates,
as insidiously potent though urban zeitgeist is,
the off peak bonhomie provided by one’s abode,
must underpin a validating resonant counterfoil,
that lustrous seam jewel-embedded notion,
commonly referenced as unswerving loyal cabal,
though hybrid nuanced fusion on request,
is such an option for assiduous assimilation,
there is no hint or faint suggestion in the slightest,
that one should jettison endearing aspects of street esprit,
and the cataclysmic upsweep inherent in its brief,
the adrenalin so integral for buoyant enterprise,
deep equanimity and raucous daring should coexist,
and not a juxtaposed anathema that clashes,
they converge on several sprouting plots,
contrary to glib assumption blindly trending,
to be unflappable should not imply a bland persona,
effervescent office tumult wayfarer,
still quite the icon in yoga leaning domed quarter,
diffusing stored exuberance in feldspar chip backyard,
where gorgeous inlaid stream’s sunlit gurgle,
is that interfaced amalgam as companions,
from a myriad of disciplines beehive swarm,
to absorb one another’s acrobatic zest,
and synthesise its hub with meditation’s equilibrium,
mantra magic mediating mirthful mayhem,
yet inveigling a crimson ribbon of tranquilness,
to mingle with a whirlpool suction entropy,
in an atmospheric crucible of nonchalant ferment
Dominica
Gawaine Caldwater Ross
We share melons and papayas
beneath a sun benevolent.
A salty breeze, the river is cool,
and the passion flower blossoms
are fragile but rich. We stroke
their fragrance and sip intoxication -
we slip a little further and
I find myself afraid of love.
Papaya trees are many breasted,
the flesh of mangoes, exquisite.
My restlessness is like the surf
seeking coral lagoons.
You speak in certitudes,
I dream of them.
Beyond the coconuts shining
in your eyes
I see gazelles outrunning lions -
you laugh,
I recall November sleet.
Your stainlessness and artless joviality
are in contrast to my venery.
But in honor of your being
I play Schumann on the flute.
You respond with a noble clarinet,
Royal, but so voluptuous.
You think love means saying “Yes,”
I think love means bleeding.
You say, “That's a grim thought.”
I say, “Life is grief.”
We are divided by that which attracts us -
even as you speak of trust
I see the void behind the stars.
You speak of freedom,
possibilities, and taking risks;
but I have been to prison:
Saturn has bound me with rings of lead,
the acid rain has stained my face.
We lay our cards out on the purple silk:
today they say I am the Hanged Man.
Are you the Queen of Swords,
or the Priestess holding
nine bright cups of Dionysian wine?
You smile and ask,
“Where, oh Where, is the
void in ecstasy?”
We strip and go against the current.
The water here is swift and cold,
the sunlight revels on your
scintillating buttocks.
I follow towards the cataract
and drink the water that has caressed your thighs.
You shriek, the monkeys leap,
and I wrestle with a jaguar.
You summon me to join you
high up on the rocks
where the moss is a foot thick.
I manage half a fervent laugh
And watch you diving into pools.
Opals ripple on the water.
We gather oleander, orchids,
Lilies and lotuses
and weave them into garlands
and in the falls we
linger in the timeless spray.
A place in the middle of nowhere, I wish to be in, where I could still
Breathe the blissful pure fresh air of the bucolic, where I
Could hear the hum of silence harmonious to my mind’s rhythm, where
Dew drops of serenity sparkle in a peasant’s land in morn’s rays, where
Eyes yearn to catch a glimpse of the beauty of the soul than the beauty of the
Face, where I do not need a mirror to see if I look okay and I
Get to be accepted as I am and not compared with anyone, where the
Harvest hope of a farmer is not shattered by cyclones and floods, where
I could hear the throb of silence and pen my ponderings in peace, where
Jealousy or hypocrisy or anxiety or grief ceases to exist, where
Knots of hindrances for growth untangle themselves with ease, where
Language of love is the only medium of communication, where the
Melodious songs of birds are heard throughout the year as
Nature is never reluctant to flourish in Her full glory here, where the
Oppressed are not cast out from society like corners of bread, where
Perceptions of my muse are ignited to get answers to all my deep baffling
Queries on life, where disabilities of people are not made fun of, where
Rays of the rising sun, forever, gives the warmth of hope, where my
Soul revels in ‘the now’, cares descend, and mind is at ease, where
Thoughtless, I can remain in this unknown, unnamed land, where
Unspoken words of truth echo more than spoken words of lie,
Voices, muted, of the innocent get more chances to be heard, and
Whimpers and sighs of pain are never heard. Such an idyllic
Xanadu is my dreamland, where I do not have to worry about
Yesterday, today, or tomorrow and could reach a
Zen state of mind that will soothe my being.
.
..
...
...
..
.
.
.
Mercy longs-for a companion-
peace faithful holds on keeps hoping,
forgiveness sustains, love gently uplifting!
Three hearts cry out one for the other;
their candles lit each swaying together
as they flicker-the-door, opens wide -
Grace-generous aware, racing
in brings them in their longing;
together -
Joy delights revels in this,
surrenders itself one-
for the other -
Time honest-
boasts of this
remains-willing -
continues marching.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author notes
3 poems written 1 year ago. I decided to form them individually today here: 10th Dec 2010.
Formed as I brought them from another site from their original forms as they are there. Was
curious while in the midst of forming; noticed they would as I had formed them fit together.
Had no idea they would fit this way together as they have now. Hence the name given for the
poem in thank you, for: "God's Goodness", because it is He that was the inspiration, as well the
Guide/Mastering of the hands that formed them. Thank you for reading. Their names are as
follows as I brought them formed them: A Permanent Home, I'm Feeling Sick Today Let's See
What and How Much I Can Bring to the Table, The Longing. I Had no idea I was forming a
candle.
I invite you to read: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=6883
as well investigate as to why I ask you of this, "please":. I am so honored you have stopped
by friend you have blessed me-yes - I wish as well to bless you. ~ Love ~ James ~ (or if you
will) ~ e v e r y o n e 1 ~
http://allpoetry.com/ban/show/6960
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O52C30WzJcQ
Reverence affects yours
truly with unmeasurable
infinite jubilant zeal,
sans unbeknownst world wide
(web stirred) fans enamored
with me poetry induce
cogs of mine
noggin to wheel
write (thru the roof),
thus I feel impelled
to spell out
appreciation to those
die hard regular followers
or one time cyber reader,
who (minnie mull lee)
move mouse or gingerly
(collude) manipulate trackpad
motioning qua thumbwheel
scrolling thru each
rich text chord
line figuratively aswarm
with multisyllabic words planted,
cultivated and harvested,
where eyes feast
visually soaking up
mine magic charm
(albeit wrought by
this modest male),
whose virtual crafted
figurative humble Georgia based
Orwellian animal farm
revels with euphoria
more precious then,
(you guessed) bajillion
banked bagged loot
(of quartz without
taking for granite)
die hard aficionados tub hoot,
these stalwart re:dears,
asper scratchings
of this ole coot
oft times curious what attracts
dedicated trooping veterans
(undoubtedly war re:)
like avast horde of
buzzfeed ding flies to fruit,
or motivated students
subjecting her/him self
partial to mental taxation
(without representation)
i.e. (trying to make sense
of confounding poetry authored
by Matthew Scott Harris)
at the select particular institute,
the very same college (within Lake
Woebegone) this alumni
made popular upon being
recognized as a verb hose,
re: noun sub bull
("FAKE" Norwegian bachelor) guy.
I've lived a pain that horrifies me in reflection and ran so deep that it changed my DNA. I need a soul who sees the courage that it took for me to live day by day with this pain because I knew that my children needed their father. I need a soul who realizes that I was not born with my kindness, but that it came at a price. I need a soul who has had her own pain. And like me did not let it conquer her love. I need a soul who cares nothing of titles, but revels in my insight into her daily trials. I need a soul who loves to laugh, but loves to cry more. I need a soul who seeks to love with such passion, that her eyes cry out to God for more compassion. I need a soul who has a mind subtle enough to grasp the mystery of our circumstance and so judge no man for their belief. I need a soul who puts up with my recurrent pot belly, depending upon whether I am in "exercise season" or not. I need a soul who loves the sun, but can make the best of the rain. I need a soul who despises shame, but is contrite for a wrong in moments. I need not a housekeeper or surrogate parent, for I know how to raise my children. But I need a soul who will listen to my rantings all night long, and call herself blessed for the experience. I need a soul, who loves the world, but never lets it define her. I need a soul who wants me but who will leave me in an instant if I violate her sanctity. I need a soul who sees me when she looks into my eyes, and whose eyes speak volumes to me. Until I find her, I will walk this path with the many who love me, but always with a longing for my beloved. Always with a longing for that soul, with whom I grow old and ugly. Perhaps I have already grown ugly, and old will have to suffice. I need a soul.