Long Sceptic Poems
Long Sceptic Poems. Below are the most popular long Sceptic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sceptic poems by poem length and keyword.
Those eyes of yours
Holding a bunch of blue sky
Have been inspiring me lifelong
To seek rhyme and song
In turbulence
A Buddha like balance
Then you, the sceptic
Always asking
'What is your view?'
Almost like Socrates
Never readily conforming to
Any set thesis
Would open a sky
Asking why this
Why not that
To discover a new door to stand at
Thus you wanted to groom us:
'Cogito ergo sum'
I think, therefore I am
Relaxing my diaphragm
And now in the twilight I look at
My too many windows to look out
For a new sprout
I thank you there
Among the twinkling stars
And you young girl
How soft suave but yet straight
Is your speech
While we screech at a little conflict
Raising ugly forms
Ignoring norms of civilization
You are always low but firm
Polite but powerful
I try to be like you
In my communications
In interrelations
A grandfather trying to emulate a granddaughter
Life is a great assorter
And there you
The oranges in the tree
The beauty spree
The life and lyre free
Have inspired me
To stay happy
Even in despondency
Then you
The beggar in the street
A lesson for survival
Never say yes to defeat
You have to first sleep and eat
Then towards other vitals
You the whore
Drifting from shore to shore
Embracing sort of death
For the sake of life
Tiny shines of strife
Where ever you look at life
With a childlike interrogation
With a touch of admiration
Will come across
In a session
Diamonds of inspiration
___________________________________________________
3/1/2017 : Contest: Who has inspired you most in your life
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri-Carroll
Nothing prepares a heart for the first glance,
None other than the heart of a lover seeing another,
No verse can contain the chemistry exchanged
Between the two hearts brought by chance.
No raging war can fight off the fires that ignite,
That glorious moment the first touch of a hand is felt,
No ballad can capture the essence that flows
Between two bodies embracing all the night.
No sceptic doubts the passion that overflows,
When anatomies collide in a long love-making dance,
No sonnet can comprehend the love exuding
Between two lovers craving a love that grows.
No cynic can criticise the heat felt in each kiss,
Shared as a sign of pure love & affection like no other,
No quatrain can express the ultimate promise
Between two souls to remain as one in utter bliss.
Nothing can ever bring asunder God’s mighty work,
That bringeth forth the rose and the eagle destined together,
No force roaming Earth known or unknown stands
Between two hearts blessed as the Master’s artwork.
I wanted a quiet evening, away from Proto
To order a pizza with loads of ricotta,
And write a poem, with not one interruption,
Savoring a glass of wine, without disruption.
Sounds perfect to me said a voice, let us begin.
I looked around no one was there except Lynn
My golden Labrador, the voice spoke once more,
It’s so pretty outside, from here comes inspiration,
Poems bring serenity,
But at times written in desperation.
The voice came from my poem I had just started,
I was delighted, felt elated could this be magic.
I believe that you talk, I’m no sceptic
You’re the words creating my poem and I a poet.
I will stay by your side, and together,
We will travel where ever, forever.
With a fame so destined,
Bitcoin will have nothing on us
We will kick up a such a lot of dust,
And create a great fuss.
Now don’t forget this is my poem, I explained, you only
Add if I ask.
Once upon a poem and rhyme,
Lived an old, old man called time,
No, no, no, said the words,
The cat,
Sat on the mat
And ate the rat
That is not poetry I shouted, you arrived in my space
Perhaps you should explain why you’re here,
And state your case!
Then I heard another voice, somewhat shrill
I’m so glad it said, chase the words away
I recognized the second voice straight away,
For I’d heard it every day,
It was my Muse, she sounded sad and was crying
You don’t love me anymore, my heart is dying,
So I assured my muse Patsic
That altogether, we’d create worldwide magic!
Oh good said the words, it was getting too much
And spilt a tear on the poetry page.
Now can you listen, please,
I’m not so young in age,
I can’t get so upset,
Glad we have all met.
Then continued,
The furry cat,
Sat on the Persian mat,
And ate a fat rat.
Still unacceptable, I said to the words,
Let me finish mine.
No, no, exclaimed the words, I want to try again,
The eclipse on the earth, orbiting into the moons shadow,
Glimpses the bright sun, and from a slither so narrow,
Stop, I said, that was good,
Perhaps I’ll let you finish tomorrow.
So you thought it was good, let’s do the dance of joy,
And as we danced, the words on my page
Scattered everywhere.
I looked at my new friend,
It will be an eventful, ecstatic journey for us,
This partnership of three, will I know,
Entertain,
Time and time again!
The pop group Heatwave, it seemed to me
(in 1970)
was dreadfully dull and boring too
(not at all incendiary)
so, with breath control and mind over matter,
(it didn't matter as I didn't mind)
to liven up the act and give it something new,
after much practice and repeating,
using self-made torches soaked in paraffin,
I taught myself how to do fire eating
and late that summer became
(tho' only the drummer)
'Keeper Of The Flame'.
Once, while on stage performing,
some sceptic in the audience shouted, "That's not really hot,"
so, determined to put him in his place
(he deserved all of what he got)
I gave him quite a fright when I flashed the flames in his face.
Then, '77 one fearful night in Bright Eye Band wearing tights
(a.k.a., Smooch on Halloween)
throwing all caution to the wind, as it was gauged just right,
the draft from a fan blowing across the stage set my hair alight.
Although not what I call apropos,
I survived, came out alive, but what a way to close the show.
.Inspired From Sapper French's Diary from April 23. 1916
"Come On Over Fritz"
Rain like a shower down my back off a thin wooden lath
It’s cold and miserable unlike a welcome hot bath
Air so bad we cannot breathe, today don’t feel like taking this path.
Gas bombs are falling a thick yellow cloud rolls our way.
Pray God the wind catches and sends it astray.
Thank God no gas lungs for us today…
We used the same trick as miners with a canary bird to test for gas
But we caged a mouse instead, if it died we would not pass
We got sick, but the mouse survived, oh telling us; what an ass.
Got a cut upon my leg, the doctor says it’s septic
What a relief a hospital bed, lots of company, analeptic
I though this war was right, now I’m a sceptic.
Back in the field scores of bodies lying dead
Personalities cut down, stuck in the mud ahead
Blood bath, bodies everywhere we tread.
Walking in water up to our knees without ease
Found water cress, so good with bread and cheese.
A little comfort, although not much sitting in this bise.
It’s strange something simple like finding water cress
Can give us an unsophisticated pleasure in this gory mess
Eating and drinking, amidst body parts - no less.
But we had to do what we could for every inch we could gain
How the mighty fall, the Germans came to our trench of mud and rain
With grenades, daggers and bayonets – most stayed, face down; slain.
A huge German solider was patched up by our lads
An older man with a scratch; reminded us of our dads
It’s remarkable we fight and kill, yet still mend these cads.
August the tenth a strange day, a German stuck his head over the barbette
One of our boys called out “Come on over fritz” as if he did it for a bet
Fritz relied in perfect English “no blooming fear” happy to have met.
After the respite of banter back and forth
New orders went out to be followed henceforth
Anyone talking to the enemy would be arrested thenceforth.
Entered into Mark Toney's
Poetry Marathon mile 7 contest
Lost in gravity’s pull, unleashing are iniquitous racing rot,
obscure entities rush through, connecting the dots
pilfering, extracting inventory, my intestines in knots
distant incense fumes a conscious canopy, petals wafting open-air,
I sense an antediluvian forest, aflame, circling there
Gazebo’s trapezoid holds captive, naked, probed and jarred
A sceptic- doubting Thomas vanishing, broken in shards
fragments of glass banishing, misfit mosaic alters as prey
Trembling colors my core stripping to bone greys,
stumbling over intercranial eddies, whispering “This is not an SOS fortess”
I lift my listless body from off the whitened Kalli bench rest,
mustering up brawn to leave this camouflaged spaceship
gaining is the exotic and final trip
escaping shades of jade and eschewing a repetitive rot
at last, rejoining the existing world’s ongoing ellipsis—living dot dot dot
Let me share with you a shrilling moment, one I dreaded most. 'Twas another beautiful summer day, and a visiting day, at the beach steps away, the Lake Shrine. The layout an inexplicable charm, monks in saffron and garnet tinted robes draping each body, had welcomed me. I must have been aligned with the stratospheric, a nefarious nebula inside the meditation gazebo, I thought inviting and safe. Past mistakes had laid heavy in this dome, this world a jungle, pent up nerves generated, nerves stretched taut. The line inked about intercranial eddies who seemed to have spoken to me, was most difficult to pen. As a child hungry for the opaque curtains of mystery to be drawn, in which 'lamplights strange to these eyes', within my late-night shadowy bedroom, appeared. As an adult I seek answers, therefore removing the line. I’ve always been entertained by mind's photograph, I reflect upon.
The Gazebo
I Am Anaya
2/22/26
Better to be an honest and shrewd man than to be an innocent dolt,
Better to be an enlightened pagan than to be a short-sighted piece of flesh and bone,
Better to be a frugal voluptuary than to be an impressionable vagabond,
Better to rule in the streets than to serve in a castle.
Better to be in a crowd than standing alone on an isolated road,
Better to enjoy the rain than to be a parched fowl in the desert,
Better to put on a hat than to stand still in the hail,
Better to be a stern bystander than to live in tremendous ache.
Better to be a sceptic than to be an unsighted tumour,
Better to sit tight than to walk on water,
Better to be a remarkable clickbait than to be a foolish mercenary,
Better to be a judge than to be an instrument of judgment.
Better to be a brute than to be an unspeakable human,
Better to raise the voice than to stay always hushed,
Better to be a revenant than to be a destined passer-by,
Better to be a knight than to be a mere guard.
Better to lie in your own sewer than to sleep in someone else's nursery,
Better to welcome the changes than to stand alone, bearing the ancient typos,
Better to eat alone than to waste at a feast,
Better to be always you than to copy a protagonist.
Inspired by Charles B. Widmeyer’s hymn “Come and Dine.”
COME AND DRINK
It’s inside of him who waits—
passion afore it’s too late.
The stirring of the waters, his healing close.
With no working legs, no boast,
has no friends to help him coast
into the waters…then Jesus overflows.
Refrain
Rejoice! Rejoice! Oh what joy there is in Him.
Kind of joy that bubbles, rises to the brink.
With richest blessings poured, to the chalice rim,
overflowing cascade beckons, “Come and Drink.”
Magdalene’s seven spirits—
viscosity that digs deep.
She’s haunted by nefarious wolves—sceptic.
Deeper still, one touch of Christ,
draws her to the highest heights.
Deeply cleansed from impure thoughts— Christ heals the sick.
Refrain
Rejoice! Rejoice! Oh what joy there is in Him.
Kind of joy that bubbles, rises to the brink.
With richest blessings poured, to the chalice rim,
overflowing cascade beckons, “Come and Drink.”
What’s better than this? The lamb—
led to the cross…great I Am
eaten up with all our suffering and sins.
What’s better than that? The dawn
bursts forth lovely as a swan—
Christ with life-giving power, a righteous win.
Refrain
Rejoice! Rejoice! Oh what joy there is in Him.
Kind of joy that bubbles, rises to the brink.
With richest blessings poured, to the chalice rim,
overflowing cascade beckons, “Come and Drink.”
10/18/2021
Love for First sight :
Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.”
Because you were my real boy friend forever.” “I meant it when I said I didn't believe in love at first sight. It takes time to really, truly fall for someone.
It's not easy to believe in love at first sight until that special person comes along and steals your heart.
Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.
It’s the first time that my heart has become so restless.
Waiting has now become very difficult .
Yes, it seems as if I’m in love.
I have become very impatient now to meet with my real gf.
She have complete control over my pure heart and pure soul now,
it seems like i have fallen in love for the first time in my real life.
I don’t find sleep all night long.
Every moment thoughts of her senseless talks,the memory of good time spent torture me.
How should I describe my real feeling of love to her?
If i go far away but come back to her again.
O my beloved, what’s this happening to my heart!
It seems as if I’m in love.
The intoxication of her speaking gaze has robbed my heart.
O my beloved, Your simplicity has robbed me.
The feeling of pain seems pleasant to me now
Today I have learnt what it means when two hearts unite.
I have full trust on my heart-beats now.
“Love is like a friendship caught on fire."
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your own destiny according to your own good wishes for you.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
7/12/22
Still traveling through space
It's not falling into place
Tripped over my shoelace
Wound up with a bruised face
I'm starting to lose faith
People staying missing or found in a suitcase
Now we got another new case
Across more than a few states
Has there been enough progress in attempts to reduce waste?
Playing hard to get, but I'm not into a wild goose chase
Is the dam soon to break?
I can't let it
Regardless if it all starts to go left quick
In a world that can be so hectic
Many turn frenetic
Looking for an exit
It's not a game, you can't just select 'quit'
Another drink another pen rip
Eff it
They can sit there and be skeptics
They'll be full of like a sceptic
They try to fight it never willing to accept it
They're still doing things that are pathetic
One thing they won't be is apologetic
I'll get it done by being athletic
As well as energetic
If need be in order for the outcome to be electric
Nearby buildings made of red brick
This is very far from by best pitch
Back in time over that they'd lose their head quick
Half the fruit is good the other half is a rotten apple
I swear half the world has gotten fragile
On others people often tattle
It's become a constant hassle
Meanwhile I'm still caught in battles
With drugs and alcohol it's a problem unhandled
At this rate, how can I ever rise above being mere 'common rabble'
If I remain locked and shackled