Long Speaking(a) Poems
Long Speaking(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Speaking(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Speaking(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Pigeons And Falcon
Thousands of pigeons flock to the Vatican
They are not there for Sunday Mass and prayer
But to perform aerial acrobatics
And to produce droppings from up there
Feathers follow them in the air on hot dry currents
Unpleasant summertime aromas fill St. Peter’s square
People speaking a multitude of languages stare in amazement
Follow the waves and movements of the birds in flight
And think of pigeons as nasty filthy creatures
(in their respective dialects of course)
They seek God in all His perfections and dwell on nature as they reflect
But that is not manna falling from the heavens on arms and hair
Bird droppings fall everywhere
Enter, the noble falcon on the scene
Hungry and hunting for something delicious to eat
Like an angel or saint swooping down on a golden band of light
Pigeons act purely on reflex as they take flight
Without lofty thoughts or motives
Their brains are oh so tiny and miniscule
Not wired like that
Falcon will educate them anyway
Enforce the rules of God and nature
2 Our Father’s, 3 Hail Mary’s and a good act of contrition
Are not required as penance for their sins
They are expelled from this paradise for dropping in
Pigeons simply don’t understand religion
Sometimes the rain never falls , drowning in the overflow that falls from above
Speaking a word or two , something to do about love
Why do you even care , about all there is that you couldn't even hear
The world rushes madly on by, emerged so deeply in their own private made fear
Oh dear
One enormous mouth just flew by
On a ship built by ego alone did he fly
Sooner or later apart it always falls
They are those who choose unseen, untouchable prison walls
Hiding forever from who know what
Long as that invisible door remains shut
The mask they all seem to forever wear
Always pushing that same blank stare
Always different but then again always the same
Who is next that we shall lay the blame
this happened two hundred years ago
Today the seeds we now sow
Living now in that same fires glow
Nothing different nothing the same
Seeking the way to their own little piece of fame
Same old unfeeling bull game
Dreams dreams dreams flowing like the mountain streams
Soon to be gone with the ending winter snow
Always rushing with no where to go
Pain written on their faces.
Lost to human graces
But then we sludge so dreary on
where the night goes forever ,
forever and then we are gone.
Now that didn't that very long
The world does not look now
like a place that I once belonged to.
Opening an atlas
the maps looks like nowhere I have ever been.
I pass through different windows now,
white rabbits lead the way.
Being older than I once was,
almost inevitably places have changed,
yet where I was born
looks like an alien city to me,
it seems like
a tourist destination for indigenous exiles.
The world was much larger when I was a traveler.
Chunks of the planet were only known
to explorers and scientists.
People were dangerous yet much kinder.
Now here in a corner of no-place-much
blancmange faces float in and out
speaking a language that means less to me
the more I hear it.
We once carried books around,
we loaded cars and pushbikes with travel books
and the poetry of adventurers.
We were old enough to be dreamers.
Of course the young were always dumb,
and the smarter they got the dumber they got.
Forgive me, the old have always talked like this,
our handbrakes are looser,
thoughts slip backwards downhill.
Yet we must speak occasionally
about the blancmange and the puerile,
the cheapening of what was once hard won.
I know I abide somewhere among this new world.
Brave or timid I abide half-hidden.
The land I inhabit now
has given me a passport, and I have an address.
I recognize once who I was and where
I lost maps I had once crossed.
Maybe I am too young at the moment
to forget or see where I should be.
‘Great Wonder to watch Winter's shiny show of snowy charm strictly speaking , a splendid
splendour,
Since born, staying only in summer zone,
no idea of natural beauty in snow.
So far tasted only ice cream cone.
About snow fantasy how could I know?
Debut of snow flakes in chilled attitude :
on my first meet with serene snow scenario
in a tourist spot on high altitude.
Me slandering up, clouds floating below.
Hanged icicle stalactites with pointed tips
from roof of our hotel ! A great wonder
We two to enjoy honeymoon trip !
Snowy charm whelmed me ! Sheen splendid splendour !
Shiny snow elating whiteness over slant path-
Skating on silvery slippery snow downhill
Fun in throwing snowball and jogging in mirth
We ventured sliding on sledge on amorous thrill.
I can reminisce fantastic snow fantasy :
Metaphoric mirage drifting on dazzling ice !
Enchantment of glossy massy snow turned classy.!
Danced delight : Divine numinous noble nice.
Being older than I once was, inevitably places have changed,
yet where I was born now looks like an alien city to me,
it’s now a tourist destination for the ever rootless.
Back then people were dangerous yet much kinder.
Now here in my corner of no-place-much, faces
float in and out speaking a language that means less to me
the more I hear it.
We once carried books around, we loaded cars and pushbikes
with travel books and the poetry of adventurers.
We once dared to be piratical.
Of course the young were always dumb, and the more educated
they got the dumber we all got. The old have
always talked like this, our handbrakes are looser,
thoughts slip backwards downhill, yet we must speak
occasionally about the puerile encroachments
the cheapening of what was once hard won.
The land I now inhabit gave me a passport, and an address.
I recognize sometimes who I was and where I went,
however only in antiquarian maps once crossed.
Maybe I am too young to forget, it will probably get
better as I age. Besides vapid banality
tends to grow on you bit by bit.
The Night That Changed EveryThing
-------------------------------------------------
By: Mister Más Sobre Nosotros
For: The El Patrón Observador
Rubato Relacional
--------------------------------------------------
Perhaps the experience can shift seamlessly
seamlessly through beautiful emotional highs
and obsessive behaviors
cautiously planning for the future
without any assurance or care
seeing things as normal speaking a
beautiful story when the narrator is
more matter of fact instead of that hopeless
romantic one neither swoons or are happy
in your sight and away from you ,you are only
a point of reference of Rubato were the shift
in romance to unromantic is heard
no support for depending
in every stage of romance
the survival mechanism allows you
to keep your faith for hope might
the tables turn
-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------
“Guilty, Sir, if you insist that I am--
Yes, ‘twas I who cut her with a knife and
Took her heart out, so very gently while
It was beating--still beating in my palms.
From the cavity where her heart had lain
I placed it in an ornate box with care,
A vessel lined with the finest satin,
Encrusted around with glittering gems
That shone and sparkled like her living eyes,
Which had enthralled me when she was alive.
“What? Remorse, Sir? No, absolutely not!
With what I did, I am most satisfied.
Know, Sir, that she had promised me her heart
When we were young and very much in love--
This love we nurtured, as seasons went by
And yearly sealed in sincere assurance,
Till she slowly became cold and distant,
Not speaking a word, till through circumstance,
She confessed that someone else had her heart,
So I--I took what was pledged to be mine.
“Where, Sir? It’s in a space under my bed,
Where nightly I take it out of its place
And lay it on my pillow near my head
That I may caress it and dream of days
When lovers stood fast on what they had pledged.
Please, Sir, if you’d retrieve the box for me,
This dank dark cell would be a paradise,
For her heart would bear me such company
That even the loss of freedom would suffice
To make me feel I am a man most free.”
April 2, 2023
in the center of the air that you breathe
even though you are long gone
i push and pull and tug and shove until that feeling is perfect
i spray the ebony essence for the purpose of your liveliness
i spray the ebony essence for the saving grace of myself
in the center of the air that you breathe
even though the letter planted a stubborn elephant on my skull
i yell and scream and shout and exclaim your name until a forced makeshift echo
is present
it is then that you appear as if on cue with forgiveness in your eyes
i smile with this temporary relief on the edge of an odd sort of insanity
you walk slowly to me with your ample hips swaying with the booty speaking a
quiet language to me
it is then that i become externallized from myself and yearn to do things that
reawakens those senses overtaken by dust
i imagine you as the broom with pillow soft breasts sweeping me clean....off my
feet again....
i think i will let you pull down the shade now....
She was a beauty
Rollerskating was the rage
Falling so often
Traversing the oval pattern in ungainly fashion
Just to prove to her that I had a manly passion.
She, however, did not take my failures on the floor too kindly...jilting me
While her older, wiser, sister helped me through that night of terror.
Her sister took me by the hand and showed me the way.
Without speaking a word she shared her courage with me,
As around that floor she led me on my legs of clay.
So many firsts that night still hearken to me
First Date... First Skate... First Women... to be etched in my memory.
If you Love me,
Don't give in to all my demands,
Don't excuse my bad behaviour,
Or give me praise for doing nothing.
If you Love me,
Don't believe everything I say,
Don't give me extravagant presents,
Or tell lies on my behalf.
If you Love me,
Don't tell me only what I want to hear,
Don't say yes to me when you mean No,
Or give me false hope.
If you Love me,
Don't treat me like a charity case,
Don't shield me from the law,
Or Help me feed my addictions.
If you Love me,
Then you will know,
That I am sometimes in need of sound advice,
Or even a good telling off.
If you Love me,
Then you will know ,
That I need a push in the right direction,
And even to be told I am speaking a load of rubbish.
If you Love me,
Then you will know,
That I can sometimes be overbearing,
And prone to take others for granted.
If You Love me,
You will know,
That I am only Human,
And your expectations of me need to come from a Loving Heart.