Long Scrupulous Poems
Long Scrupulous Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrupulous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrupulous poems by poem length and keyword.
He's a soldier
So brave and strong
Mission after mission
Never gone too long
A gun, a knife, a tank
A weapon not his choice
A war started long ago
His goal to raise his voice
The enemy is armed
In unforgiving ways
Children, women, bodies
Scrupulous displays
Head games, body aches
Home so far from here
Reality is insanity
No time to fear
Nightmares are visions
And soon they will be gone
War will be over
Clouds convert to sun
Stand tall don't break
Fight until the last
Souls like iron
Faces hidden in masks
Voiceless corpses heaved
Buried and burned
Soldier keeps walking
Eyes absorb but his back is turned
Kill or be killed
Wars awful plan
No tears to shed
From this young man
A test of the water,
A dip of my toe.
Undeniably chilly,
But bearably so.
Before I can swim,
I must get undressed.
I’ll start with my shirt,
And then all the rest.
I’ll glance about shyly,
Then just take the dive.
Returning for air,
Now I’m feeling alive.
This is how poetry
Ever will be.
A definite risk,
But a way to be free.
I show to the world,
What others won’t bare.
My vulnerable soul,
Under scrupulous glare.
Just as the clear water,
A feeble veil makes.
So scarcely can prose
Conceal life’s mistakes.
So under some metaphor
Or in simile
If you are looking,
You’ll find naked me.
Up the diversified life's evolutionary lineage tree,
with time a unique species climbs to the canopy of sagacity.
With functional form and wisdom blending in beautiful mind,
the rational man creates the art of living, the masterpiece.
In the righteous journey made to the realm of wisdom,
humans acquire the attribute of fundamental fortitude,
attain in toiling times the resilient state of self-discipline,
connected with the universal notion in the algorithm of being.
The ego abandoned, the meaning of life measured
with the essence quotient of the profound intelligence,
defines the transcendent qualities of the stoic existence,
harmoniously enshrined within the latent human spirit.
Beneath the tempestuous strife in the sea of life,
flows convivial calmness with current of sensuous emotion.
The inundating surge of innate love and empathy
spreads on the shore of the serene soul of noble life.
When the mind wavers unsteady in life’s turns and twists,
gets bound in the scrupulous roots of the sanctified psyche,
the thwarting thrust of negative sensitivity disappears,
blows away the base instincts in the wind of ethical acuity.
With the moral fiber of the productive positive passion,
when the mind weaves the tapestry of timeless acumen,
embedded enmeshed within the motionless motif of inner bliss,
life finds the virtuous course in the dormant domain of stoicism.
The dinner was very formal
The starters were served as normal
Scrupulous spread of hues, aromas, booze
So tempting to try one, but how to choose
A sea of dips, platters of cheese, and little boys
No one dared to try one, the host adroit with poise
Delayed, distracted in chatter, host kept the starving mob at bay
Guests unwilling to offend, stared like drooling lions at their prey
But surely there was no harm in sniffing, a polite hint to begin
So with fleeting glance, the guest picked up and sniffed the dish nearest to him
A quick sniff would surely not be seen as rude
But, in haste the nose got too close to the food
A dollop of ruddy dip clung on to nosy's tip end
Living proof of failure, with level best, to not offend.
I open my bleary eyes,
To the beautiful sheaf of sunlight.
Book lying beside me sighs!
And whooshing sound of papers rant, as they fly by.
Baby! Why you left me without saying good bye!
What do I tell you about my epeolatry?
With people around, I can’t witter for too long.
My lust for the books is just too strong!
Slowly, I scud away at the first chance.
And skulk into books, before anyone’s glance.
Contentment latches the door; the silence is profound.
Books, joy and peace all around.
My books leave me spellbound.
Redolence of papers and ink so sound,
It creeps in like ethanol into my mind.
Fragrance of musty papers takes my charge, as it surrounds.
Inside my self is a loquacious place.
Cogent and scrupulous, solving mysteries with authors pace.
Don’t you think that I am a dolt!
It is just that the story, slowly unfolds.
Yes! I feel deeply, I feel fiercely.
Yes! I emend, I recapitulate and iterate.
Yes! I do read and re read.
Yes! I am a book worm and this is my treat.
08/03/2019
The Book Worm Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
( "Write the truest sentence you know." - F. Scott Fitzgerald )
Variant plurals suffering suffixation's whims;
fly-tomatoes and the valley boo-mouse,
when the sheep alumnus in a mother-in-law seed,
animosity-cat tiptoes in the church alchemy,
genetic forty-winks sing noun names; brag and blame.
Go to the spy picnic early, the heavy earth hides,
the shy long-cot swings over the screeching pond.
She wont let me say the words; I love her,
an ice-cream non-communist with a gypsy-grace and a smorgasbord-rub,
( I have tone-deaf toothpaste and my megawatt chow miens)
It’s enough to make you gang your hemihedral in a jolt-wagon.
Someone aught to have better sea-sense. Not me-
I’m palm-crucified. My bulls-eye is a hearse!
She might marry me to a multi-syllabic drainage or I might climb the scrupulous oak.
on a sultry day when there was nothing else to accomplish,
roaming around listlessly in my parents' house, stumbled at a little diary from my teenage years!
with a pretty picture of a rose bouquet on the cover!
my best friend, I thought I couldn't live without, but disappeared later in my life, got the diary for me -
located it among her father's office-materials,
and determined - it was a nice present for a book-worm girl whose only passion was papers!
although she was so thoughtful, it was a really tiny diary, I thought - not enough space to cover all my gripping thoughts!
my head was bursting with ideas - from appeasing my over-scrupulous math teacher’s tantrums, to secret plans of rendezvous with friends,
and mostly about the boys around us, some of whom were a bit silly,
but paid a lot of attention to me!
question was - who did I like? they seemed unpretentious, were they really?
was not sure myself. one day decided on one,
and he biked away at an accelerated speed at my sight!
was I not pretty? was I not charming?
was I bossy to frighten them? was my voice not alluring?
at last I did decide not to bother about them too much!
but get on with my literary life!
the diary was my precious friend, as close as a friend could be,
I confided, poured my soul, everything in her - from my deep-down secrets, little happinesses, my innocent pleasures,
to the intense sadnesses I felt sometimes.
it was not the passionate diary of a brave young girl hiding in the secret basement of a building,
hiding from the cruelest regime in the world,
it was candid expressions of a sensitive, shy, demure, emotional teenager,
the only outlet of her true feelings about the intriguing world.
how much I admired the pretty dresses my friends wore, and wished I had a few!
how much I admired spending time in our patio at the magnificent dawn when nobody was up, to see what I was up to,
how much I wished I were an author, and wrote novels like Jane Austen.
how much I wished I lived in Shakespeare's time, and be one of his maidens -
Miranda, and Opehelia, and Juliet, and Rosalind -
who emerged in my wildest dreams when I was in a dreamland!
the dreams which I wished, would never end,
but for sure they ended eventually!
A Diary - a few pages bound together - was me!
1 Knocked to the Ground
There’s no bell, nor stars—
just bloody knees.
You haven’t thought of heaven or hell,
when you cursed the sneeze.
2 Ignoring the Obvious Cause
Using a whisk
to dust off the hole in your knees.
You’re a bigg’n
who straightens your back,
though your neck won’t
calibrate left, right or South.
3 Whoops
Why’d you fall on your whoopie
cushion? Tailbone thrashing
like a mermaid against the current.
Baleen curses - two-fisted.
4 Slowmo Recovery
No ambulance for your pride.
You scrutinize your shoes
for blubber, crap and scars.
5 Apex
The spreader was keen,
intelligent, even.
Theory of climbing
impeccable
but without horseshoes
and cheating
on your tippy-tippy toes
your nose meets
the grindstone of regret.
6 Watering the Grounds
The soil needs warm earth
and worms but they tend
to be off put by church.
Nothing learned…nothing gained.
7 Angels on High
Potluck’s not for you
but the scent of savory,
sweet and scrupulous
tantalizes.
8 Nest Egg
Wash yolk off your face.
Smile it’s sunny.
Tripping - tongue
says,”Oh my goodness.”
You chuckle
as you take a big bite
out of new life.
10/7/2021
To put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness. Eph 4:22-24 ESV
YOU ARE A STAR, SHINING AND TWINKLING IN OUR LIVES.
YOUR BIRTH AND PRESENCE IS OUR DELIGHT.
NO GIFT CAN EVER EXPRESS THE VALUE YOU HOLD IN OUR LIVES.
OUR PRAYERS AND WISHES WOULD SURELY CONTRIBUTE TO YOUR SUCCESS AND RISE.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Bestowing Wishes,
Be Blessed With;
Achievements Myriad,
Accolades and Encomium,
Burgeoning wings,
Compassionate Benevolence,
Epigrammatic Wittiness,
Good Luck Galore,
Gracious Empathy,
Holidays Flamboyant,
Infallible Wisdom,
Indomitable Will,
Marked Contentment,
Memories Worth Savouring Rerun,
Prodigious Strength,
Pure Love,
Remarkable Resilience,
Scrupulous Focus,
Spirit Unshaken,
Tremendous Success,
Untrammelled Disposition,
Vivid Personality,
Youthful Exuberance,
Zealous Smile.
Form:
Waking, like birds, walking, running, rushing, pushing,
Working, like horse or donkey; earning day's living;
Colleagues, friends, even foes; a little bit of name,
If I move stones unmoved, I might get some scant fame;
Where will wheels of existence move beyond this rut?
What's the meaning, purpose, goal - beyond this shut-hut?
Chalices of trifles of troubles, turmoil, loses,
Physical psychic head-heart stress that imposes;
Conflicts, disputes, cock-hen like, dog-barks-like disputes,
Mindless grins, scrupulous remarks which have no roots;
Those smiles; guileless laughs; malice-less naughty nix-moves,
Intertwined like thread of nucleus, same truth proves...!
Anxieties, hurts and pains, like broken wings, flap,
These, like dragnets or hunters-holes do our strength trap;
Choosing spiritual paths that boldly hold God,
Senses, inner mind, and third vision in concord;
Rivulet of Ganges, that in subtle routes flows,
Should reach the sea of endless ages, with entire glow...!
19 January 2022,