Long Scarab Poems
Long Scarab Poems. Below are the most popular long Scarab by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scarab poems by poem length and keyword.
The hieroglyphics around the ankh tells a magnificent story
About how one can first achieve life’s eternal glory.
Not only is it a forgotten language but it presents quite a riddle
Whose answer has a thing or two to do with the scarab in the middle.
The cross with a circular head rises up above the stone,
The characters that tell the story were carved with an animal bone.
Many thought the magic that gives long life was achieved through its possession,
But immortality was only received by answering the question.
How do I know the facts surrounding this ancient relic?
Because I solved the riddle then and live today to tell it.
People who know me now wonder why I never seem to age,
Well, back in another time I was an Egyptian sage.
I was the only one back in time who figured out the quandary
And for three thousand years since then my life has known no boundary.
I travel all around the earth never staying too long in one place,
People from every land and every century have often seen my face.
The ankh itself is the only item that has survived as long as I,
And its answer I will never tell and here’s the reason why;
Life eternal sounds like a gift you want but I know that’s not true,
Passing into the spiritual world is the real gift gods gave to you.
"Fata Morgana"
feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection
gently the sun waves smiling as if to say
feel that, the warmth of waking sleep
no fear of what remains hidden
it will unravel from inside that which is all too deep
walking towards you across the briny mist
from ancient stories forgotten
a halo of St Elmo’s Fire surrounds
it stands still for a short while before you
watching
you,
walking water with your bare feet
faith in dreams consistent in their constancy
that visit you when you are complete yet incomplete
holds out its hand to lead the way across
sharp burning rocks, now a desert, climbing mountains that are steep
a small life crumbles to powdered sand
more than 40 days silent gone astray
years the turning of untimed tides pretence
meets a haunting vision beckoning, new horizon, odd unclear
safe harbour left long ago,
lost in that ornery time, cursed by flying monkeys' bellows
of bloodletting and betrayal, stock still, standing amidst the shallows
somewhere along the way dark narcissus followed
what breaks over the bow
washes all stern fear away
sacred wings of albatross
ne’er to be sacrificed, no more night nor day
souls of ancient mariners
forever follow me, even when I stray
the rich baritone of bedtime stories
messages in code conveyed, I hear them still today
now swallows spooning spinnakers
running directly before wind and sea
the water turns to wine, much stranger the belief,
all manna of trust it feeds
bells tolling
no man’s an island entire of itself
in unusual reckonings
observing swimming hearts, that hear and see
the eyes that melt, this more curiously
in truth, the dream defends
messages eternal
life it never ends
tides move in and out
never alone when we begin
fata morgana
softly the moon ascends
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
VCB
Lux Vitae
5.5.10
"Under a splintered mast,
torn from ship and cast
near her hull,
a stumbling shepherd found
embedded in the ground,
a sea-gull
of lapis lazuli,
a scarab of the sea,
with wings spread—
curling its coral feet,
parting its beak to greet
men long dead."
("Talisman", Marianne Moore)
She vibrates, a chassis minus shock absorption.
A painting, the nude descends a staircase,
rings of Saturn etched in a vacuum tube.
Or Eniac of twisted cords and switchboards.
She isn't programmed to see light beams
spraying through the trees,
nor silver bearings of morning dew.
There are no bees plunging like pistons
in the flowers, no circuit board on the step.
She climbs the jamb as a bot returning to its task.
Monitors flicker as nanoseconds pass unnoticed,
but the galaxy ends at the lintel.
She's a child of Mir, suspended upside down
in a universe where falling isn't death,
but the failure of electrodes.
Then silent as a dead star she descends.
All drives cease functioning.
She is still as a scarab,
the light years casting sand dunes on sphinxes,
until legs spasm as though coding
a final matrix for iron butterflies waiting to be born.
A mental landscape of shifting sand dunes.
an intimation that something may be worth writing,
A scrabbling creature crawls bedraggled out from
a saturated darkness.
A Scarab beetles shadow takes hesitant form.
Watch as words ripple above infertile ground,
see how serpentine they flow.
Yet another poem about Creation is arriving.
Adam is sewing pants out of banana leaf's
for Eve.
The young man is jealously aware,
that the googly-eyed monkeys
are eyeing her nubile libido.
Early days in the Garden; Eve is making
mud cakes, they have yet to figure out
how to eat manna.
The scarab beetle, has resorted
to scratching hieroglyphics,
for words alone are no going to complete,
this arid revelation.
Something may be worth,
transcribing - maybe.
Perhaps this envisioning
will find fresh water in a dry place.
The white page has a blank face for a reason.
I was awakened from a sound sleep --
the room yet unlit -- sat up on the side
of the bed, more of a spirit sense
of doing so, for there was also a
feeling of body-paralysis. Finding myself
attentive, I was greeted by the
awareness of a being standing before me,
though I cannot describe an actual
face nor sex: "Take this", I was handed
a scarab, clay-type representation. "Eat it!",
I hesitated...but found myself incapable of
refusing. I brought the beetle toward my
mouth, seeming more of essence
rather than actual physical form.
I ingested the object, sort of
an instant inhale, feeling the thing
immediately come alive in my heart-area.
The entity motioned to my high right, a
lighted blurb appeared in the totally
darkened room, that of a biblical
doom-shaped, white building – inside the brilliant
portal beamed a light of intensity I could
not even begin to measure, a brilliant, huge,
golden goblet inside was quite visible, as I rose
up toward it, sort floating, no power
to resist. "Drink". I looked inside
the gleaming vessel, filled with blood
to my horror. I replied, no, I do not want to
do anything wrong or evil. "Drink...it's
Ok". I could not stop, as my head
lowered. Then I awoke, lying in bed,
having never been quite the same since,
moving closer and closer to Christ
awareness, and a sense of mission. Why
do I share this? I don't know. Not certain.
Must be a reason. Do I walk on
water now? No! Do I feel special? Not in
an egotistical sense. You decide.
Insane? Fooled by evil? No evil has
come of it that I am aware of.... Only good.
It’s 5pm and sunny in Ohio, 40 degrees
and dropping,
by dusk it will be grey turning to red
then black.
Where is the oyster shell now?
The heavenly picture
of a pale spume-tickled .
An unmarried Tudor lady
applies more cosmetic beeswax
to a Monarch butterfly.
I will see the road from my front window
for another hour.
At some time I will eat a cheese sandwich,
At the same time
Consequently I darkly develop
a sunny-side up dawn
casually dressed omelet.
A Siamese cat, coats a Knight
with heraldic tar from a nightjar.
A clay Madonna carves out
epicanthic folds
from an African twilight.
I believe in chains of associations
leading to all possible outcomes.
House plants rent a niche of bedrock.
Plumes of cigar smoke flutter
in airless Mayan canyons.
Factory farmed Quetzalcoatl’s
hustle the leafy bustles of housemaids
as they feather dust aspidistras.
Mind can join together
one probability or another,
one word to another,
words that seem unrelated
yet together trigger an image
that feels newborn.
An iron skillet, crushes walnuts
on a coffin of dead elephants,
a black casket casts kitchen shadows.
Here’s the thing, this power
that may seem like a weakness,
actually
is the way the multi-universe works.
Camels swim an underground sea,
sand dunes wave over a once boozy tavern.
Humpback whales
recite the scriptures
of aesthetic scarab beetles.
The laws of poetically possible realities
operate for you when you follow
your imaginative mind-stream,
all these co-dependent transitional factors
want to link hands.
A speckled moonlight
chases a hen
around a weather vane
while a barnyard tornado
whisks a can of English beer.
Congratulations, you are now a creator,
demonstrating clearly
that you are a child of God.
We drove ourselves and it hurts to sit down in wheelchairs
outside by the greasy road where Mannequins wave our way
from inside genetically modified
insects; my lover drives a blue scarab
across the desert land and leaves the most surreal tracks
of disturbed dirt.
Perhaps someone creative has an ice tea I can sip to quell my
parched heart.
Inevitable. Please, can I have a drink to inflate my aching
heart?
And those hot air balloons are too low toward the grounds
& watching Golem reaching upward
to knock them like geeks out of the Royal Azure skies -- and
they call me a freak//i believe the G.O.D. forgot his umbrella
before he fell from our skies\\ and
so who is the freak?
UNSUPPORTED CODE
:: 08-23-2016 ::
Green Oasis in the midst of burning sands.
Milk ed Maidens in garb of headdress band.
Soaked in milk and butters cream.
Supple like the grass, taught like the reed.
Come back to me, fall back to your
Leige.
The dry hollowed Papyrus unlocks
the Sundials mystery.
Tells not the tale of my voyaged seventh sea.
Sarcophagus be damned.
I will procure the scarab from the Genie,
the Cyclops, Jason,
or whomever holds the Goldening,
that was fleeced from me.
I will take my birthright
from their blooding hands.
As the Nile bleeds
onto the fertile crescent lands.
See it in your Astronomy.
Canopic jar it with your gland.
The Sphinx's eyes gleam and Sirius,
it shines for me.
By God's own hand.
By silver starlight
and unconquerable spirit
unicorn autumn
adventures
lay before.
Piliferous beast of field, away!
A midnight outing
of an enchanted weave
is for my destiny tonight…
and thou, I’ll have
for my steed.
The Phoenix in flight
immaculate guiding light
as we forge over
grassland fare
and mountainous plain.
We’ll know naught of death
by dragon breath
for ne’er shall we view
o darkened lair
nor in the gleam of treasured guild
embrace that forbidden dream.
Piliferous beast of field away!
the sphinx riddles o’er
our passage rare.
Beyond all the sand
of the dune-covered land,
enchanted our sojourn
seem.
Tranquil the moonbeams
adrift on the streams
and carried along in
a mystical song, from the deep
where solemn merfolk
hoard the superfluous rays
of our night.
Emerald green silk and golden weft woven,
by carpet one takes to the sky!
As Solomon whispers
the winds follow by
as well on this fantasy flight
shalt thou do for I.
Piliferous beast of field away!
The scarab is hissing
a hex.
We owe not a singular breath
to reality’s strangle-hold
nor have we a gamble to spare.
Our Autumn shall wane
and my breathing the same
in the chill of the frosty new
cold.
And lo, should our quest
by some dawning undo.
Indebted I’ll sleep in my grave.
I’ll ne’er find you fading
you'll ever stand waiting
Together we'll conquer the day.
Beneath heaven sparkling,
triumphant, I’ll say once more:
Piliferous beast of field, away!
Where at my calling,
we’ll voyage the dreamscape
and Death will wonder and rage!
By clenched bony jaw and fists
he, under his cowl,
will marvel our escape.
When by silver starlight and
unconquerable spirit
unicorn winter
adventures
shall lay before.
06/14/15
Crow's claws carrion campy carping
nsync nocturnal teenage mutant ninja turtles
analogous to scuttling
(think) browed beastie boys scarab beetle
brandishing sharp small scabbard swords
delightedly digging daggers deep
into deadened prey
rotting roadkill repulsively reeking
formerly (mere moments ago) once
fancy free and footloose
happy go lucky creatures
perhaps instinctively squirreling away
scarce winter rations
animals oblivious to danger
(i.e. despite matter of fact
courteous attentive driver)
former obviously caught within headlights
(high beams blinding) crosshairs
deerly beloved critters
natural longevity instantaneously doomed
unsightly splayed internal guts
displeasure welling up
against... me long time
licensed vehicular operator
(within keystone state – Pennsylvania)
loathes unintentionally destroying
moosed abominable creature
self anointed ingenious species/
genus *****sapiens
debonair bipedal hominid
eradicates, euthanizes, and extinguishes
innocent kickstarting life within blink
ousted arbitrary dint of virtue
smug simian ruler of realm
sowing seeds of her/his destruction,
not necessarily strictly,
cuz she/he unable to brake,
nor swerve away within timely fashion,
but brainstorm gifted
harnessing collective intelligence concoct
weapons of mass destruction
in lockstep with environmental exploitation
dangle the very survival
various and sundry (extensive) precious
living things unbeknownst to them
will soon become extinct
rendering highly radioactive
oblate spheroid leaving not mushroom
except opportunistic trumpeting
donning guise of: parasitic braconidae wasp,
fruit flies, cockroaches and et alia yon
mummichog, scorpions, and Escherichia coli
for jump starting Earth biota.