Long Savants Poems
Long Savants Poems. Below are the most popular long Savants by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Savants poems by poem length and keyword.
The Bishops bathe in Babylon
while Princes, prancing on the lawn,
watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan.
The King dares not defend her.
The Horsemen, holding broken reins
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain,
the Saints will soon surrender”.
They wonder why they ever came,
they have No One whom they can blame,
they have no face, they have no name,
and even less, a gender.
The empty-handed Vagabonds
smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes
while waiting at the walls beyond,
but kneel as Chaos enters.
They’re gazing through the window panes
in hopes that distant Hurricanes
will twist and break their iron chains
defying life’s tormentors.
The Fantom of the Opera frowns
as feeble minded Cleric-clowns
mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds
when blessing doomed dissenters.
The Pirate wields a wooden leg,
with pupils dull and visage vague,
and if by chance he spreads the plague,
it really doesn’t matter.
His Princess, pale, no longer feigns,
foresees instead (down ancient lanes)
the coming of the Hurricanes -
the Stones stir, staring at her.
And Jackals scrape the river bed
as Savants soothe the underfed
and Crows, collecting scattered bread,
adorn, with crumbs, the platter.
The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes
weep, winding up in rundown trains
mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
and Priests refuse to christen.
They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns,
the cuckoo birds, the dying swans;
while pitching pennies into ponds
their eyes opaquely glisten.
The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes
remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
the time of day and other jokes,
yet No One looks to listen.
The Hunchbacks with contorted canes
galumph before the Hurricanes,
in melted sleet, in frozen rains,
in bruised and battered sandals.
Their Groans engulf the land of gulls,
the land of stones, the land of nulls,
and lurk between the blackened lulls,
for Nighttime brooks no candles.
Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes,
(and other long forgotten Spooks)
are more than random crazed rebukes,
though taunting to the Vandals.
Continued in Part 2
I carry music folded in my chest
Like winged light sleeping in a sheltered place,
A single sound can wake a thousand stars
And every silence holds a special place.
I speak in numbers—clean and luminous—
Where sums fall into order like the tide,
The calm, exact obedience of truth
That never falters, never shifts aside.
I keep the past as if it were still warm,
Each hour preserved like petals pressed in glass;
No moment truly dies within my mind,
The way it does for those who let things pass.
And some are born with language in the blood,
I hear the ache behind the spoken word,
I shape the unsayable into breath,
And give a voice to all we never heard.
The world calls this my miracle of the mind,
Yet little knows the cost of seeing so—
To feel too much, to carry too much light,
To stand where deeper currents always flow.
I do not seek the praise of crowded rooms,
My gift unfolds in solitude and flame;
The work itself becomes a quiet prayer,
The truth I serve forgetting about fame.
Through music’s fire, through memory’s long ache,
Through measured stars of mathematics spun,
Through poetry that binds my broken speech,
My scattered fragments gather into one.
And what I give is not just skill or proof,
But ways of seeing I had never known—
I widen what it means to be alive,
And make the human condition my own.
“There are enormous possibilities for one to improve in life, as world is a great university and we are taught through text books of life’s experiences with sagacious sages and savants as our teachers and the precepts of great men who have left a great legacy behind.”-- ~By Poet~
As New Year dawns, promising a fresh start,
We pledge to see the graph of life rising in our chart.
At this time when all make resolutions many to be won,
I have boiled down my resolves to a single one.
All I wish is to be a better person in body and mind
To love others, forgive my enemies and be kind
This is something I have been striving all my life,
Get along even with my detractors without strife.
Train myself to be considerate to all without exception,
Be compassionate to the needy without expectation.
Live my life smooth without many a nagging care
And never let my heart sink into dull despair.
Scrub away all my glaring imperfections clean.
Bring healthy practices everyday into my routine.
Admire nature and tend it in all its attendant glory.
Add memorable and sweeter episodes to my life’s story.
Be a loving partner in whom my man can spy,
An ocean of love surging in my dewy eye.
To my children, ever remain as an adorable mother,
A confidante, a friend and guide, giving them succor.
Through words and deeds, show them the miracle of love.
Teach them to be thankful for the blessings from above.
Thus enact my role as a wife and mother in the best way possible,
Accepting, for my success and failure, I alone am responsible.
Being me.
Trying to build myself out of scraps of scraps.
When you can see through that barrier between us.
And you think you can see enough that there’s no danger around.
Holes, tears, and me.
The savant you wanted is just a bunch of scattered notions.
If I were a savant, I would invent new stuff.
And hope.
And maybe we wouldn’t have such long lines at the banks.
Because I could create solutions that are worthy.
If I were a savant, I would paint, do math, and be happy.
I would make them all happy.
But instead I’ll just continue to be part of the scrap yard.
Layers of plastic covered with rusty metal shards.
When the savants come to town.
It’s as if they eat all our favorite food, and breathe all our favorite air.
But we forget:
They are disabled too.
It hurts.
The rusty metal scraps that will last forever no matter how rusty they get.
If I were a savant, I wouldn’t even invent new things…
I would just make sure there were enough pieces for everyone.
If I were a savant…
That’s why I’m not one.
Loser changes name match
The Concernment of People
Cellar Toss verses Mil Mascot
Came about due to the high
Venue prices. Said Peom.
A outlook of fans and media
a Concernment of greed and
Se to dishness, spoke many
Concerned.
Wisdom of Savants and Meres
(Peoples Priorities) Nicknames
that causes concerns. He Lavish
could target critsium from those
who feel to he backlash from there
entertainment interest. The loser shall
wear the name"Big Meanie" due to contractual
Concerns . A ticket buying public pushes the
envelope, a ticket buying public
Wises to raise there glass in honor
not in fear. Real. World issues, concerns
real people not corporate hypocrates
A champion talks championships
A champion doesn't stumble over situations
Unskilled and troubled.
The outcome is defeat not parish!
All I Need Is One Backpack and I can reach the Sky
and bring back a pocket full of Stars to testify,
I have caught the Sun, in a Swift Moment Is All
Running against the Wind, I Travail in Bards
All I Need Is One Backpack and I shall Deep Dive the Seas of Life
and bring back the Hidden Mysteries, Thrice
and Gallop I shall, Full Speed like Marengo
into the Sacred Mountains and Deserts where my Illumined Feathers Glow,
all I need is in this moment and I shall grasp the Light within
and Forge a song of Sorrow to Valor like I was Shakesperean,
for every Grain of Sand Crossed, a Glorious Victory
for every life lived, right here right now, I stand acclaimed in Liberty
All I Need Is One Backpack to Infinity I shall go and beyond
and Blaze Trails to the Celestials like a Beatific Vagabond,
One Foot Forth into the Sky where Savants Ride
One Dream, One Quest, One Epic Flight
All I Need Is One Backpack and I Shall Reap and I Shall Sow
to Dare, To Dream, to Know
to go to the Higher Places more
and I shall bring back the Hidden Treasures of Old,
where the Eternal Rivers Flow, there I shall Travail
One Step for Heaven, One Trumpet for Hell
All I Need Is One Path, One Pack, One Bushwack out the Strongholds
and I shall Triumph out the Drudges in Pure Orinoco Flow,
and so, I Go Marching Ever Forth
One Final Stand, One Backpack in Hand, One Sacred Torch
I recently watched a documentary on savants
In particular, Daniel Tammet, whose mathematical abilities
As well as other astounding mental capabilities
Will not only blow your mind
You'll probably say to yourself, “this is some kind of trickery
What he does is impossible for the human brain to comprehend”
Yet when matched against a computer
He is able to do calculations up to 100 decimal places in his head
Without a single number out of place
He is also able to learn a new language within a week
And then appear on television and carry on a conversation
In that language with ease to the utter astonishment
Of those conducting the interview
I'm aware there are skeptics out there... but THIS IS REAL
At twenty-something he possesses extraordinary mental abilities
That defy all logic or comprehension
If you're interested in watching this amazing documentary
The URL is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z22H89rIMHk
If you saw “The Rain Man” starring Dustin Hoffman
You'll realize how accurate Mr. Hoffman's portrayal was
IT'S A MUST SEE!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Punt the Visitor
Wriiten By:Halcyon Daze
A punt is a flat-bottomed
boat with a square-cut bow
, designed for use in small
rivers and shallow water.
Punting is boating in a punt
; the punter propels
Here in South
South Papua (capital Merauke)
we'd fish and farm. The people
of Papua have tradations
they'd celebrate the festive of
the Dieties. The myth of foods
is a story told by the elders of
several villages. It's beleived that
doing a time of peace and prosperity
several members of the neighboring villag
came to the edges of town
and hide in the bush and shrubs
to study the ways of these people.
The adorn grass shirts and wore make-up
and try'd to divide the loyalies of the people.
The most handsome of the men would try to
seduce the woman might they part
from there husbands: so did the Beautiful
wicked women, who did the same among the
husbands of the bunch.
Well the Savants of the villages had devised a plan to
fool and trap these wierded persons
who had made folly of there traditions and beleifs.
they built a flatbottom boat
with a hut and lavishly decorated it
they put food and drink in the hut
and anchored the boat as it appeared to be part of the main land.
In this creek in a cove
they dressed in ritual costumes and beat drums and danced.
They spoke in laungages tha the Symound peopless could understand.
(there own laugaue. They used leaves of the Moot-moot plant to create the smoke of ritual.
in the hut. They opened the doors of the hut and went in singing invitation to pleasure and tresure.
They jumped out of the back of the boat and hide in the shrubs and bushy areas.
Loser changes name match
The Concernment of People
Cellar Toss verses Mil Mascot
Came about due to the high
Venue prices. Said Peom.
A outlook of fans and media
a Concernment of greed and
Se to dishness, spoke many
Concerned.
Wisdom of Savants and Meres
(Peoples Priorities) Nicknames
that causes concerns. He Lavish
could target critsium from those
who feel to he backlash from there
entertainment interest. The loser shall
wear the name"Big Meanie" due to contractual
Concerns . A ticket buying public pushes the
envelope, a ticket buying public
Wises to raise there glass in honor
not in fear. Real. World issues, concerns
real people not corporate hypocrates
A champion talks championships
A champion doesn't stumble over situations
Unskilled and troubled.
The outcome is defeat not parish!
Oh my beautiful Daughters
what have you done to the men of the Earth,
turning the roar of men's' love into notes of shame and whispers,
discoloring the gallant glow of trust with untempered lust for popular worth,
I made you to be embodiment of something sacred,
a steadfast source of Divine sincerity in the chaos of Man's struggle to be heroic,
to soothe and inspire His hope for honor, to be the hand he could hold in the tremor of dread,
in the Begining you did this much and more, exceeded the seed of my dream, making Them historic,
But you, my remorseless and rabid Girls
sought to be worshiped as a cult of marauding maidens of madness,
a horde of haughty harpies wanting glory your own, thrones tailored from supine bones,
pleasured as predators of Princes and paupers
saddistic seducers of troubadours and savants,
making " high minded " heros helpless on the cliffs of your thrills,
Oh my ravenous Daughters what have you done to the hearts of men,
what have you become with speared touch and rough laughter,
warm in love sport and cold in lip lies,
the Furies have your fame and faces framed in black flame
the day is soon when your beauty will become ashen, charms unmet with passion,
and the Furies will befriend you
adorn with thorned fashion, feed you a vulture's ration,
Nemesis is on your terrible trail of predatory travail
She to unveil the wail of your reward's gale,
my lovely Princesses, my girls of gnarled gain
a wind storm of lovers' cries flies towards you
a punishment Holy in it's honor and horrible in It's hit,
bite you shall, sixfold from Humility's tit -
J.A.B.