Long Rites Poems
Long Rites Poems. Below are the most popular long Rites by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rites poems by poem length and keyword.
Wondering;
Wanting something right;
In my life;
Totally corresponding to the rites;
Those rights of surviving in this vast universe;
Going,
Going on;
Going on and on misty lights;
Wonders of culturally enticed;
Where are the heavenly's;
God has promised me;
Where are the birds inflight;
What about visions of marvelous;
Available for all of us;
Every word needs a friend;
So I placed a pen in hand;
As I place these words on paper, while sitting on the porch engaging;
All early morning sights
Gonna see every thing all right;
it's alright as I ponder..
In awe God's awesome
Sunlight wonder. . .
Going to see the light
Brilliant brights seeing heavenly lights;
Sun light wonder, as I gaze across the skies;
Glorious wonders as I spy God walking in the clouds;
Sun light wonders bright in skies;
Still I'm wondering, wanting something right, in my life;
Totally corresponding to the sites;
The hills, the valley's beneath my feet;
The woodland small animals eating off the ground natures treats;
And I am going on, going on in the mists of the lights;
The lights that shine so ever bright(ly)
And I must go on, go on till I, see the face of my God. . .
Where are the heavens?
Where are the birds inflight?
What about visions of marvelous marvels, (oh my)
my, my, my. . .
brilliant bright seeing heavenly lights;
Sun light wonder, as I gaze across the skies;
Glorious wonders as I spy God walking in the clouds;
Sun light wonders bright in skies;
Sun lit wonder standing on the clouds;
Gonna see everything all right;
it's alright as I ponder..
In awe God awesome;
Sunlight wonder
Questing all my thoughts;
By passing my inner self;
All I have left;
Is to give up the breath;
Where are the heavens, in my life?
Where are all those birds that are inflight?
What about those visions of birdy's flying above me?
Glorious wonder as I now see God walking before me;
And what of all this beauty, then I must finally be;
I am in sun lite wonder and it's in me;
(From the forthcoming God's Children Writes Words, New Poems New Friends) 2010c
Isolating in flee,
Ouch its hurting me,
Healthy global world clock is stopping,
Slowly disemminating virus,
And the moonless night are popping!
You can see that,
Yeah,You can see that!
Locking down into the home quarantine,
Our healthy happy lives are byzantine.
Diving down deep into the loop of darkness,
Hoping one day beyond the clouds,
The powerful Sun will surely rise!
Way I see it,
At the cost of humanity,
Terribly tearing the respiration,
Restless feeling,
We are in suffocation.
Turning fragile body into ashes,
Splash of seconds,
And dumped into ocean trashes!
If you ask me,
Insanely sick of those emerging polluted minds,
Endless slaveries of this Master intertwined,
No friends,No hugs,No last rites,
Only in return,
They want to trigger a biological war fights!
In my estimation,
Corona Viruses are mounting pain,
Leading towards the financial strain!
Economically affecting the market,
Dramatically dropping down the target!
In my own conceit,
Such a divine place our Universe was,
Just praying God,
End this breathless memory of Corona-virus disease,
And Reinvigorate us with the life's new phase!
Save us Almighty,
Once again Embrace us mother nature.
By expressing our deep gratitude towards you,
Please give us another chance to live this life again,
And forgive the mankind for all what we did wrong to you!
Written By Madhavi
In settings where bold forests host pumpkins,
A crimson heart and amber warmth arise,
Like Valentine Pumpkins showing olden
Glow of peaceful orbs flaming in night skies.
Valentine Pumpkins are gifts from spirits,
Reflecting Peace on their smiley faces,
Releasing new heights, no thunderous hits,
Their soothing colors emit three graces.
Red, not wrath: autumn leaves and sweet roses;
Orange, not angry, but in Harvest rites.
Each flame burns where a calm spirit dozes.
Whispered truth rises, henceforth, in these lights.
Valentine Pumpkins prevail because love
Meets the Harvest Magic of Stars above!
Truth be told said topic minimally embellished
rather, prattling youthful looking
baby booming geezer
precious time (yours), he doth bilk
(cue sinister mock-up halloween voice)
moost valuable intangible
outstripping fine spun golden silk,
yet coronavirus (COVID-19) quarantine
drives dingbat to whole new level
wits end where sonar helps sound out his ilk.
Think me swallowing, gulping, and asphyxiating
essential experiencing ill humor versus zest
suddenly impossible mission life and death quest
in short oxygen with air supply
depleted blame climate change
analogous to getting trachea
severely pelted, pinched, pressed
nevertheless, I limber twigs to build a nest
simultaneously (choking, gagging, and laughing)
appeasing the impractical joker within/without
lame impersonation suave debonair beau geste
and pardon following hyperbole expressed.
More onerous (ha) to parish priests
tendering, regarding and administering last rites
aforementioned "fake" dead serious claim,
one little known prevaricator doth attest
(nip pulling excess milk of human kindness)
faux (pas and mine late ma)
gaming altruism confessed
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
hypothetically earning devout resuscitator
invoking divine intervention
upon impious hackneyed poetaster brownie points.
Now fur heal, aye really gotta
get get something off me chest
flagrant exaggerated golden opportunity analogous,
videre licet his achievements or service to country
The tremolo of mourning jays vibrates
In bittersweet tracks when nightfall scans
An almost dim backdrop, gripped
By low warbles from birds' paean
Indistinct as dusty tunes--a whip, wallop
A whistle of drones becomes
dangerous and still;
Throaty on a lane of funeral's last rites:
The hazily drawn view turns ambient...
it is another blasted evening
Moistening wail of eyes with monotone lull
that I hide my face
from past autumnal romps
reminding me of chimes, soft cuddles
pressed in heavenly light...I whisper
to a young silhouette now cradled
By the starkest of blue stars...
Tunes stale,
while jays moan on the horizon, until...
(Dedication: For Michael and Clara
on your Wedding Day, today,
Saturday, 19 July 2014)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cheer fills this day, charm looks profound;
Union of souls here on this earth;
See moments play in sacred grounds;
Trust makes one whole, now glimpse new worth;
Opt to share voice ever sincere;
Make love a sign spanning your time;
Applaud fine choice etching your years;
Rouse fond design with sanguine chimes;
Yield to your heart, explore all things.
Rise together, dare life's struggles;
Ignite true start, dare swirl and fling;
True love matters in your fable;
Enjoin true quest now man and wife;
Sense precious fest graced with grand life.
Leon Enriquez
19 July 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet with 2 acrostic messages.)
Burnt CDs, black marker spinning,
Discman walking through the seasons.
Ford Tempo losing ground,
feet dipping through the rusted sound.
On the bus I felt protected,
public-transit bubble, youth connected.
Till the night the danger shifted,
instinct sharpened, whole world twisted.
News broke, breath broke,
shape of everything revoked.
I blamed my feet,
trampled dreams, incomplete.
But I still hear the soundtrack calling,
even when the sky was falling.
Girlhood stitched in ice and steam,
ringette blades cutting through the dream.
My burned CD,
my lifeblood, my mythology.
Spin me back to who I was —
fire, danger, music, trust.
I was dancing in the room,
between despair and breaking through.
If all that’s left is memory,
then let it ring —
my burned CD.
Girl-power spice on frozen rinks,
tweens spliced between the ice and instincts.
Cutting habits meant to break us,
rage for show, but truth remakes us.
Gloves off, kick it, tape and stitches,
es get riches, survival switches.
I got the deal, sealed it tight,
peeled the dream down to the light.
Acid truth to clear the bruise,
systems built on old abuse.
Cheshire grins and Garbage nights,
In Utero and failing rites.
But the beat keeps pulling through,
rap and blues in every hue
Saturated food for thought,
gum-stuck rhythm I never lost.
My burned CD,
my lifeblood, my mythology.
Spin me back to who I was —
fire, danger, music, trust.
I was dancing in the room,
between despair and breaking through.
If all that’s left is memory,
then let it ring —
my burned CD.
Lineage laid out on a tray —
Elton John, Lion King days.
Foo Fighters stalking teenage nights,
speed and roads and manic rites.
Lock it up, pack it in,
get thin, detonate within.
Cut the joints, remove the bones,
pressure carving through the tones.
Jelly heart, but still I’m able —
wobble steady on the table.
My burned CD,
my lifeline, my identity.
Spin me back but let me be
the girl who learned her alchemy.
From rusted floors to northern nights,
from fear to rhythm, wrong to right —
if all that’s left is what shaped me,
I’ll let it ring —
my burned CD
The seeds of self-destructive strife
Were sown soon after drums and fifes
Extolled success from breaking free
From Britain's aristocracy.
The Constitution's writ accedes
Peculiar Institution's needs:
Proportional House seats would be
Increased counting slave property.
Cross purposes within the cloth
Of nationhood revealed the moth
That slowly raveled fine knit strands
Exposing North and South demands.
Decades of wrongs in faint disguise
Betrayed the truth and broke the ties
That bound the states within one cause
And shattered order, faith and laws.
When reason failed to parlay peace
The rift would steadily increase
And split the nation into spheres
With fighters formed from extant fears.
North claiming states could not secede
Waged Civil War against that creed.
South claiming states had rights innate
Then waged a War Between the States.
Long years saw men in Blue and Gray
Lay lifeless forms by path and way
As armies swarmed then crept from fights
And Death employed its solemn rites.
When South drove north exposing flaws
So foreign States would join its cause,
The North held ground forcing retreat
And quashed Rebellion's last entreat.
And, proclaimed end to slavery,
The by-product of strategy,
Emancipates morality
To confront past ignominy.
The storm clouds of impending fate
From intervention dissipate
And war grinds to a bloody halt
With thousands dead as a result.
The Union came to be maintained
With frightful cost of life sustained
Granting renewal to recast stakes,
Haunted by ghosts of past mistakes.
While time would try to heal these wounds,
Those deep cut scars to this day loom.
From tribulation life resumed:
The body politic exhumed.
Her heartbeat echoes like a love moan in my mind,
summoning centuries of refined romanticism soulfully enshrined,
the contralto of her voice a fillatio upon the cock of my consciousness,
through her eyes I see that mystery is the Mistress of meaning beyond regress,
my manly mouth serenades & suckles the rosy pussy of her prophecy, homage cunnilingus,
revelations irresistible in their heretical invigorations excite our imaginations
as we fornicate a ferocious forsooth soothsaying love's reincarnations,
a vignette of virility forthcoming from fate's far side fortifications
presents a primal promise in paranormal inceptions,
Premonitions primitive in heart heat paint
streak the skin of our desire to design an indigenous heaven,
flesh tones warm fast and feral revealing a vitality of spirituality that tongues detonate,
the Universe blooms into a Multiverse as she spreads her spell of star spice scintillation
onto my ripened body rendering her rites fertile in rich freight,
within the brain's wildfire I feel her unction,
Becoming the shaman of our secret skin ceremony
I invoke the spirit of solar youth into veinage voracious for passion's patronage,
sanctifying the unifying lust between the bodily and ghostly unlicensed liberty,
shadow temple of temptation gives offering of blood and song from astral page,
death dream extremes fire hot ejaculation of divine vindication into cosmogony
as she and I have won our now with a win over age,
My Love Muse is more than a woman
she is a savage seduction and a sacred sweetness,
a Goddess of her own Cause...a lover known as Poetess,
her name changes from lifetime to lifetime, yet she is always beauty shown -
J.A.B.
Photigraphs
Wow, a trip through time!
My Mom and Dad, so dear and young!
Me, in an ancient buggy, big and strong.
Have you seen, you, the Poet on a tricycle?
And family parties, where women wore dresses not pants.
Furniture, beautiful and delicate, pristine lamps?
Amazing to see families at church functions.
Priests, invited and welcomed at special dinners.
Not just for last rites or “ Extreme Unction.”
Picnics, oh, even then, we were dressed well.
And small amusement parks, holding Grandpa’s hand.
In my day, this country was so beautifully loved.
Parades were as frequent as a sunny, summer dawn.
I see myself, friends, family waving the American flag.
We wore red poppies to honor veterans!
Sliding down hills on snowy Wisconsin hills.
And summers at Chicago’s,Lake Michigan.
WWII was at its height!
Soldiers so handsome in uniforms,going off to fight.
Many, never came back.
They died to keep America whole and bright.
We had Victory Gardens, to grow our foods.
And had blackouts that scared me.
No light nor match could be seen.
And Air-Raid wardens...To protect us all.
Those precious days, pictures in black and white only.
Many men never did come back, their wives so lonely!
These pictures are the America,that lives in my heart.
To honor, to cherish, to love this land.
And to honor her till I die!
Never to depart!
5/9/2022
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