Long Sinews Poems
Long Sinews Poems. Below are the most popular long Sinews by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sinews poems by poem length and keyword.
* an updated version of a piece I wrote for my favorite baller, Kevin Garnett *
~
intensity ... defined
excuses were for gods and gamblers
(lesser giants with fairer feuds)
HE ... was of a wholly-invested mettle and mind
the conscript of a checkered court
dauntless defender of glass and lattice
and the pride of a kingdom
grand and green.
chilled steel above
warm wood below
the thund'rous awe
each mightied blow ...
adversaries wept for his fervency
ability, focus, effort ...
at levels unequaled and as yet unseen
a vitality and resolve
that at times seemed immeasurable
expecting the utmost from his confreres and allies
yet far MORE from himself ...
of rare devotion to his cause and kind
a jaded gypsy who had found his home and heart -
the hallowed ground
worthy of his marrow and blood.
one honored hub
a stronghold land
worth ev'ry wound
each knuckled hand ...
he was clad in shining-yet-simple armor
- béni avec cinq -
that he wore with a generation's honor
and wielded a sword of sinews and strength
noble and knightly, but of ferocious intent
with a dignity, dark ... outspoken
mindful, selfless ... monstrous and mad
the grace and guile of a mongoose
with the hiss of a snake ...
the childish charm of a leprechaun
with the wild howl of a wolf ...
and a heritage that coursed his veins, veridian.
those demons, green
that spurred his dance
brought each his foes
naught e'er a chance ...
his fortress now stands empty
but the ramparts still tremble with his ire
the ether within those sacred walls
yet echos his roar
and strains to press a cheek
all for the sake of his standard and spoils
and thus, now -
yes, and none too soon
those rafters roil with a banner his own
and a kingdom, blessed, bows in reverence
for his consummation and creed
and the green blood that still stains his flesh
and those proud parquet floors …
one day that land's
bright sun may set
still, flames will burn
the name ... Garnett
thank you, KG!
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, September 2, 2020
Half flesh, half steel, sinews and twined wire,
Begotten in the heat of half-love, tempered
By hatred and the axe, fathered by one
Who killed her mother, the male chauvinist boar
Whose eye-teeth, razor-sharp, saw through the spine,
Joy-sword in sheath. Wrought iron, blood vessels,
Bone and cable, one part conceived, the other forged
On the hard anvil where gusts of blood are seed
Of all the axeman most does fear – cast iron woman
With stanchions for a trunk, iron breastplate,
A malleable black heart, a metallic chastity belt
No man may boast of stealing and still live,
Who beats men at their own battle games,
A dab hand with the axe herself, as salty tears
And globules of mercury exude from grey glands
pulchritudinous ingots chisel and shades
dazzle and illuminate umpteen reasons
poetry is like a swirling, susurrus-sibilant chimera
of innuendo arty souls, albeit vapid syntax
around serene scenery, orbs, and idealism
Is unction vital to adorn naked words with plumose wings?
whose views of contentment, vim, and happiness?
Inversely hamstringing people with arrows?
sighs of sorrow sound sowed soil
mothers, wailing and yelling out to unborn spirits
as our hearts crave affection
poetry provides its verisimilitude vacuum
do susurrus coruscating suborn scarlet spills?
deep within a stymie pirouette
the tortured sinews of a troubled mind are twisting
my life bill was still due till my final breath
I bequeath you my spirit as expressed in sonnets
I bequeath you my marrow, wrapped in iambic style
I bequeath you my mind, crafted with mispronunciation
sharing with those who owe me a xanthous soul
A magnificent horse gallops down the cobblestone street.
A waterfall -
shimmers on their right, with splendiferous colors of a
rainbow wall...
The chivalrous young man encircles her innocent beauty, he
holds their
reins. He controls each sight and sound. They glimpse their
fair share
of mountain peaks and wild flowers. Her eyes dazzle
of adventure.
Her modern knight charms the day and night, no fear to
venture
off the breathless path. Somehow she trusts,
tirelessly,
the sinews of this sublime creature, his mane
peerlessly,
whipping in the wild wind, speeding with four limbs
towards their haven.
Arrival at the honeymoon sight, where her tender heart thus
gave in,
with a ravenous kiss, sensuous show of voluptuous bliss,
entirely
his. This precious moment held in their minds
and wholeheartedly!
3/27/2017
Brenda Chiri's On Any Subject Contest
in the form/style of her poem "Words of a Writer"
Two rhyming poems in one. Short poem off to the right.
In the first take
Crisp break did make
In broken stake
Scenes of a kind
Where eyes once blind
Could see strange finds
Odd lot and play
Upon the way
Stretch anxious say
We thought we knew
Through all things new
Such sumptuous stew
Too late to seek
The higher peak
With sinews weak
Sense a void here
In fleeting spheres
Fear thoughts appear
Take Two frames end
As wit curls blend
In faded trends
Words float on feel
In drowning spill
Of inner chill
Rhymes fade away
In tedious stray
Of night and day
Empty thoughts breeze
In random squeeze
Of ooze and sneeze
Once upon fun
Laughter did run
With curious pun
Leon Enriquez
13 November 2017
Singapore
Would you still love me ... perchance I was half a man?
My carnal, physical core torn from me like ragged raiment,
Off to war in courage and heroic sacrifice ...
Returned by God and country, as barely half of what I'd been -
The half that could never again join with you in passion ...
Would you still love me?
Imagine I was a monster ...
Deformed by happenstance or accident,
Still a man in the technical sense,
But with face and sinews that repulsed even himself,
Though the heart and spirit you adore still thrummed inside ...
Would you still love me?
What if the day came - a reality as viable as any,
When I lost everything of earthly value and worth -
All possessions, comforts, conveniences, and financial securities - gone,
The talents and abilities and experience to support even myself,
Blown to the four winds by careless fate or folly ...
Would you still love me?
Consider if I were human, inside-out ...
The abyssal and dark, troubled corners of my being
Worn on hapless bones like sodden skin,
The fearful ids and psyches, thus laid bare by illness or substance -
Free to dance like a demon for the porcelain moon ...
Would you still love me?
And pray, what if I were YOU ...
And you were the reflection of all that your dreams dare weave,
The horror and ecstasy that awakens you in the night -
Shivers and turns to ice on your faultless, barren skin,
Choking the screams from your chest ...
Would you ... could you still love me??
~ 10th Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 25" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Would You Still Love Me?" Poetry Contest, Edward Ibeh, Judge & Sponsor.
(Elizabeth II 1926-2022)
Are we - crow, blackbird, sparrow -
aware of what's occurring?
We cannot tell, they assume,
but gape and gaze from up here.
This is a land with a departed monarch.
We - sparrow, blackbird, crow -
flit or sit above the richness
of that marching red regalia.
Thousands of arms stretch, sinews strain,
cameras are held aloft
to catch the start of this queen's obsequies,
such elegance, such grace.
We - blackbird, crow, sparrow -
observe orb and sceptre on the magnificent pall,
witness the splendour, the spectacle,
delight in the sound of vocal souls.
Millions have viewed that coffin.
We - crow, blackbird, sparrow - see them gaping, gazing,
with its eight pallbearers, in their blood-red flame,
as this Abbey welcomes what they carry.
(Sep 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Trooping the Colour" of June 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2023)
Shadows of the day leaned against the wall
applauded the bug which made you fall
A search began for the healing balm
and called to arms ways to calm the storm
Heaven was warned and the Earth informed
Life must work for a prize if death is armed
with aches and pains sharp as an arrow
its bleary eyes piercing through every window
formed grey clouds to hang over the meadow
But see, how refreshing the sprightly rain falls
Upon holy grounds where snow-flakes thaw
The running quake subsides and withdraws
dissolved in a ray of hope and welcome joy
And savor every moment your heart employ
With every twist of threshing sinews and nerve
The flagging weight goes lighter in a rare view
When bright moons break through the gloom
Your exhilaration see how happy children play
Admire great faiths when frenzy people pray
Dark atmosphere fades into the ever-glades
Recite praises with the gracious healing balm
The healthier days are coming to you again
Each step is victory in the journey you create
On the realm where healing virtues await
The ragged edge of life
haunts the future.
I have seen it – watched it
witnessed its wickedness
cringed at its callousness
its unforgiving finale’.
The rasp of its voice
chortling in collusion
with languid lungs
accepting defeat
but not yet beaten.
Heaving at great expense
to haul ashore
one more day
one more sunrise greeting
one more sunset farewell.
Gentle breezes
torture its weary form
strain its weakened sinews
splinter its gnarled branches
hum a farewell.
Would that it were
a long walk
down an empty trail
leaving no signs
of our passing.
But if we lived
we left footprints.
How easy will yours be
to follow.
John G. Lawless
3/19/2022
Heartsong.
Where the physical meets philosophy
In Arcady rare love joined you to me
Fated bowstring of a song has severed
Seeking Lethe, Did thou seer seek to sere?
Shreds of sinews hearts damned ruptured weir.
Where the physical meets philosophy.
Paths of lovers, will-to-power or fated,
Bloated hearts, gloated, fetid then faded,
Fated bowstring of a song hath severed,
Tears in streams, rivulets of dreams, regrets
Sans Nepenthe to slake sorrow, to forget
Where the physical meets philosophy
Wake on surreal shores jaded jealous lovers
Sinews snapped, Mortal hearts cannot whether
Life like the dream hearts bereft forever
Fated bowstring— Our heartsong hath severed.