Long Sole Poems
Long Sole Poems. Below are the most popular long Sole by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sole poems by poem length and keyword.
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part. 3
Prelude Note: The story as painted here on Poetry Soup is the sole creation and imagination of the writer, except
the names Tesu and Jhonghi.
The Poem Tesu is based on a folk story of India.
The Tesuwalas* (little children with a earthen lamp on their heads) as depicted in the Poem are gradually
diminishing with the passing of time and changing life
styles. It's a tribute to that great warrior and lover Tesu,
who sacrificed his life because he had given words to someone. How and when you would come to know soon ....With best wishes before the festival of Dewali (Light) ...Ravindra
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part. 3
The festival of light is again very near
Tesu would be seen
Perhaps once again on the streets,
Till these little girls and boys
Would carry them on their heads
In the lovely decorated Handiya* (earthen pot)
Which resembles
Tesu’s charming beloved, Jhonjhi.07
This is how, the existence
Of the name & deeds of Tesu
Was saved by small village children
Who are carrying it since ages
On their pretty little heads.
Though the name and story has lost
Its real charms and glamour
In the mind of those
Who have forgotten
This non painted hero
Of the bygone age. 08
By coming only once in a year near Dewali*
These little children
Carry Tesu and Jhonjhi,
While singing the Songs
Of their forgotten love story
As a remembrance of a Hero
And his lovely bold beloved Jhonjhi. 09 To continue.....
Ravindra
Kanpur India 08th Nov. 2012
Clarification of Hindi words*
Dewali* - The festival of light.
Tesu* - The Name of the hero of this Poem.
Tesuwalas* - Hindi word. The young boys
and girls, who carry The decorated
earthen pot with holes and a light
inside on their head and come
Once in a year near Dewali are
called ‘Tesuwalas’
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws. Copying this story without the permission of the writer is strictly prohibited and would be subject to legal remedies taken by the writer.
Wistful Accursed Penniless Fate...God Dime Mitt!
(neither defamation, nor blasphemy meant, sans Title)
Despite ingestion of
anti anxiety medications
ferocious hellish onslaught
pummels me aback
finds resurgence of ghostly
white implacable terror
inducing panic attack
cogs and wheels
of psyche frenetically
spinning alas and alack
swallowed in the un
avoid doubleheader maw
whale size amberjack
suctioned alive as dead ringer
human master bait
(feebly prate who GOD,
somebody please HELP)
doomed to die, "eye"
doth entirely engulf me
far worse than being slammed
by malevolent forces
loosed from hurricane
classed as Category 5
on Saffir-Simpson Scale
adrip with horrible gastric,
caustic, and acidic repulsive
bile alcoholic akin to applejack
and more rancid
than Q8 oily arrack
once again oft repeated phrase
Death be not Proud, viz
reincarnation of Moby Dick
(gone terribly awry)
on the attack after ME
with no way back
to house at Pooh Corner
condemned to spin
willfully intestate,
while steeped in utter black
but....methinks
perhaps fetid blowback
equivalent to volcanic belch, would
spit out "burnt offerings"
formerly Matthew Scott Harris,
whose steaming hot pipe dream
(Ahab) in mind can not
even get "LIVE" feedback,
and definite never
my Stradivarius fiddleback
(I rue...all the money
momma's and pappa's...
scrimped and saved
without giving
this sole sun any flack)...
ha...sardonic humor,
and wistful pointless flashback
equally frivolous hanker
ring for greenback,
legal tender, quid
pro quo, et cetera,
NOW demise welcomed
forever free from penury
small potatoes this measly mortal
even at dirt poor cheap
expense courtesy
Euthanasia travel agency
manned by HiJack,
where captain! My captain!
Humungous humpback
clearly presented danger field,
and only costs this one life
as lil bitty chewy Whitman snack!
Renouncing conditioned belief,
gives our heart much needed relief,
in moments when we’re free from thought,
when ego drops like a dead leaf.
Nothing sought, no longer fear fraught,
in staid silence we are self-taught,
reclaiming the light of our soul,
truth divine bliss magnetism brought.
As Holy Spirit makes us whole,
with God search being our sole goal,
each new breath inhaled in surprise,
in vibrance we play our life role.
Ceasing to weigh, measure and size,
influx of grace opens our eyes,
whence we clearly see our true form,
knowing scriptures had fed us lies.
We are living light, a bliss storm,
drenched in currents both cool and warm,
as spark of God, made as is He,
oozing love, touch that does transform.
Oh hermit, do nothing, just be
and through eyes of innocence see,
that were spirit, not body-mind,
child of God, blissful and carefree.
Mind break
Just a moment ... frozen
Time stands still, in a very quantum way, (chuckle)
I look down by the base of the ladder
It's just a footprint, left by a boot
It could be ANY foot ... or any boot, really
But its mine, and perfect, the dusty soil like talcum
Every irregularity in my sole, left there as witness
But nothing special ... nothing earth-shattering, (another chuckle)
How many millions of such have been placed?
And without a thought or bugle call
Oh, the words that will be spun!
The phrases woven for the sake of that single impression!
For despite its normalcy and casual imprint
It IS special after all ...
The very first pressed on this new frontier,
The moon.
It’s time for me to confess
I am a addict out of control
My drug of choice has taken hold
I’m really quite a mess!
I need to have it all the time
Before my body craves
A full blown habit now I have
I’ve totally crossed that line!
I’ve tried to so many times to quit
Even gone cold turkey
Each and every time I stop
I always return to it!
The late night runs are dangerous
The cost is getting high
Often it’s all I think of
At times my sole purpose
I will tell what drug I have now in my pocket
If you promise not to judge
What I am addicted to is
The drug “Chocolate”…….!!!!
I travel unravel far scene unseen, concealed congealed
under future shroud of obscure time cloud
last mile
of wile
walking
thinking
what’s that lies
beyond eyes
path ancient
divergent
muddled life
in strife
sole choice
soul’s voice
divine
design
Ever make no mistake, for soul’s sake take awake,
without any wrath, the heavenly path
**
****
**
\ “ \ / /
\ “ \ / /
\ “ \ / /
| “ |
| “ |
| “ |
| " |
a modified villanelle
Each day from dawn till late at night,
she lived to do her husband's will
and to be worthy in his sight.
To please him was her sole delight
that kept her warm despite the chill
each day from dawn till late at night.
She felt sure he was always right.
Submitting was a cherished thrill.
Could she be worthy in his sight?
She cooked and cleaned with all her might,
but loving praise from him was nil
each day from dawn till late at night.
In spite of each cold, thoughtless slight,
his every order she'd fulfill--
yet be unworthy in his sight.
The hurtful truth had come to light;
he'd ceased to love and want her; still,
each day from dawn till late at night,
she strove--unworthy in his sight.
August 5, 2020
entered in the Strand Completely New (17) Poetry Contest
Miss N.Y.C.
Double Etheree
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1
-----No
-romance,
-----promoting
her deep longing,
--------------sexuality.
-----------Only casually.
--Occasionally, my creep.
------I am her vanilla creamer,
blended well with her cappuccino
-----influence, sweet, stirred by my ********!
------------Mayor of my world, sole candidate
---in this election. Love injected.
--------Definition of perfection.
her body recites a verse,
softly singing to me.
-----Lovely poetry,
------stimulating
---- melody.
romance?
NO!!!!
Jared Pickett
10/5/09
Asavvy1
If life was a game
Loving would not be magical
Neither a breathtaking journey
For love is an honour, a blessing
Bestowed upon the beloved
Inspiring humanity to see the world brightly,
With goodness and sweetness in the midst
So, love is dignified feeling about reality,
Whereas game is about getting fun
If life was a game
Then there would be no faith
Because faith is all about belief,
With something worthy to hold on to,
Whereas game embraces contests;
If life was a game
May be the truth would be forbidden
For the truth is a commitment,
To the just world, and route to perfection
But game is all about amusement
If life was a game
May be no one would be loyal
For loyalty is an art, of being devoted to the truth
But game is a pursuit for winning;
If life was a game
There would be no need to be good,
Because goodness is a moral obligation-
-Leading to eternity,
Whereas game is competitive obligation
Oh! If life was a game
May be there would not be much worth living for
For every creature would be a contestant
Fighting for the prize
For what more could we do?
Except seeking pleasure-
-Signing our names on admired places
Imagine if pleasure was the sole good,
With every creature yearning in desire
The whole world would sink in a funny mood
The barnacle is not what you may think
No mollusc this, no limpet dull and drab
It's lack of adult movement hides the link
To cousins like the lobster and the crab.
Hermaphrodite, a male and female phase
Alternate, and thus its offspring make
It's lifecycle is one which should amaze
What follows are the forms that it will take.
Nauplius. Expelled and floating free
Small and mobile, soft shell on its back
It swims with other plankton in the sea
Bottom of the food chain: just a snack.
Cyprid. In this stage it does not feed
It only searches with a sole intent
To find the roost and friends that it will need
Where it can stick itself down with cement.
So here we are: the adult that we know
Settled down and to its choice home bound
Mature it still has those wild oats to sow
Priapically, it still can get around.