Long Stephen Poems
Long Stephen Poems. Below are the most popular long Stephen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stephen poems by poem length and keyword.
I get up
Tired of being lonely
I will no longer feel worthless
I will wash the grime from my face
Watch as I pave over my gutters
You will no longer see me curled up on a street corner
See me shed my parrot's clothing
Polly has had enough crackers
Hear me pound on my chest
I will be heard
My mind a trancendent perch
A place for eagles to rest
High above the tidy
Beyond insignificant drudgery
Apotheosis embodied within my lines
Words snatched from elongated yesterdays
I shed dreams not worthy of manifestation
Riches that never satiated
Screams that fell on severed ears
The man Slumped in the corner
Turns to dust
Scattered by the winds of change
He was
He never could be
Me
I originally titled the poem "I Get Up" I was inspired by a talented
young poet named Stephen Kearn after reading his poem "I Sit".
Honour
They expelled with dishour
Respect
Flee from them with distance
Dignity
Took to its heel on sighting them
Integrity
Briskly packed its belongings to avoid them
Sanctity
They oppose fervidly
Purity
They evade like leprosy
Decency
They see from afar
Probity
They made a campus taboo
Sincerity
Saw them and fainted
Veracity
Dies a natural death when it speak to them
Honesty
Snores with passion on smelling them
Accountability
Lost its voice only when conversing with them
Who are they?
Garbage of history meant to be erased from our memory.
Alayande Stephen .T
25th September, 2005
2.45pm
Form:
The "Most High God" is The Creator"! "The Holy Spirit Is Power"every minute,second,day and every hour! The "Holy Spirit"is The Greatest Power" that can force "The Devil Himself" and his fallen Angels and "All" to get on "Their Bending Knees" if he please! The "Most High God"puts any on "Bending Knees " no matter what Religion you may be,or if you have no "Religious Belief at all you will fall on bending knee in the presence of "The Lord God Almighty"! We "Love " "The Holy Spirit" that gives us "Holy Power"everyday and every hour! The Holy Spirit controls "Trump Tower"! The "Holy Spirit" created a "Flower"! The Holy Spirit gives "Holy Power" so that we can defeat any "Enemy"or anybody who tries to block his presence any place or any time as they suffer for no realizing he is sublime! We who "Love "The Holy Spirit",The Most High God,The lord God Almighty will have "A Victory Over Any Enemy",and it will be "Achieved "for certain! What good is any so called Religious Belief without "The Holy Spirit"? Holy,Holy,Holy to "The Most High God We Give The Glory! God said I AM THAT I AM! God is "Holy and is Spirit! Jesus Christ came to help fulfill God's "Holy Plan",and that is why we still "Stand",both woman and man! By Stephen Crenshaw Universal International Hall Of Fame Poet From Louisville,Kentucky
STRANGERS AS LOVERS
She became strange as a stranger in a lovers boat
As the wind puffs power and gets stronger
Their relationship gets weaker
She finds fault in everything he does
She picks quarrel at every slightest opening
Yet the wind marches on with a vigor
That mirrors the minds of the disturbed
They hardly speak to each other again
They now opt for strange smiles
Over mind-bugging issues
He saw it coming from above
He questioned and queried the strangeness
Still lost, wandering and pondering in his thoughts
It all ran fast like a hare
Faster then they could ever dream of
Alter solemnization promise this varnishes
Prophecies of unparallel compatibility
And perfect matching wanes.
Why will he wait for seven years before she let go?
Why now, two months to end her tutelage
Why did she throw her rectitude of years in murky water?
Why did she stab with impunity all they’ve lived for?
Alayande Stephen T.
3.56am
19th May, 2007
Still, and again
“Ogongo” crept into my mouth
As I behold the two nocturnal creatures
We have waited endlessly
No longer in my Aunt’s place,
But we became unsolicited watchmen
At the streets gate entrance
It was an ungodly hour
Darkness had key to everywhere
Still, and again
I winked at my cousin
He nodded, and murmured
“They are on their way”
But when midnight started knocking
Out of the furfuled dusk
Appeared the two nocturnal “Ogongos”
One bringing back the memory of the famous Yokosuna
Of the Heavy weight with an heavy duty
To her chest,
Were a very big size-less eve’s apples?
Her mean look compliments her dark complexion
Her burnt lips. . . Reddish eyeballs speak of her as a chimney
My cousin I pity from within my heart
Her hyena-like laughter
Turned me back to the second “Ogongo”
Of a lesser weight to the former
Her Eve’s apples were almost not there
“Bad catch, worst choice”
I echoed to myself until I saw
Her roundly shaped protruding buttock
Speaking louder than a loud-speaker
It overshadows her duck-like ugly mouth
It was an undeniable asset
Indeed, the “Ogongos” are both endowed
With a Unique Selling Point (UPS)
With these, I had taught they can never
Run out of good prices in the market.
Lo and behold,
At the crucial product delivery point
I rushed out of my room
Only to see my cousin outside too
Looking worried and dejected
The “Ogongos” are over-used products
The expiry date lapsed long ago
The USP was a flash in the pan
We both slept in the parlour
Leaving the “Ogongos” in their different rooms
It was a bad deal in a bad day.
Alayande Stephen T
09.55am
20th June, 2007
NB-Ogongo is a coinage for Prostitutes.
In Iba, with Ayo and Yemi, expecting
An Izobo daughter and Tobi’s call.
Insanity was at its peak again
Humanity degraded. . . debased
Lives of fellow beings became toys
They massacred thousands
For the Holy war
They smouldered while laughing
Matchetes and cultlass were freely used
Heads roll on the street
Part of body littered major road, even in Major street6
They are fighting for Allah
Whose commandment is for all to love one another
Who are they then fighting for?
Are these men not really insane?
Insanity runs down their veins
Ignorance gush through their blood
Wickedness reigns in thier heart
Men that are not fit for our society
Must we wait again
For another display of insanity?
We must stop it now.
Alayande Stephen T.
12.32am
12/10/2008
An account of brutal massacre occasioned
By unbridled religion intolerance in
Kaduna State, Nigeria in 2002 during the aborted
Miss World Beauty Contest in Nigeria as
Narrated by an eye witness Latifat of UNILORIN.
Life is a phase
Full of energy like my son's crayon
It open up in pages
Flipping through in no rhythm of colors
Our dreams are often in cage
Strings and tunes are in block colors
Yesterday paces up in phases
With a lot of good memory in black
Today is like a snail with no pace
Hoping that this present peace will still be white
Tomorrow soars to the heaven in a chase
Life is then fine-tuned to a shade of colors
Just like a detective writer Hadley Chase
With a dance of colorless tune in sight
We have made for our generations a good case
Our dream is a like green with no fertility
Sometimes like rotten food, it get decayed
Yet we smile with our faces red in anger
Holding the future rainbow with the mace
Alayande Stephen T.
9.28pm
06/10/2016
Looking For Treasure
By R.e. Taylor
I want to go out
Spend the day treasure hunting
No, I don’t need no map
Don’t need no “X” marks the spot
I will find it all on my own
I want to search the backstreets
The alleyways where no one goes
Maybe find an old bookstore
Not one of those mass-market stores
No neon light or organized shelves
I want books on the floor, on pine shelves
And someone who understand books
Their the ones who should be running the place
And I sure don’t want me no Stephen King
No Anne Rice or Dean Coontz
I want me some Douglas Adams, Louis L’Amour
And for sure some Agatha Christie
I will keep looking for that bookstore
Searching day and day for years
I know it’s there
It has to be
I just have to find it.
Inside the pot of the poet
Is the soup to maw
Prepared of stew during dew
Fishes and beefs crave for
Survival off poet's mouth.
In the soup of the poet,
Ingredient abounds in the pot.
Rhyme pepper appears along Haiku
Epigram stewed Pastoral with Sonnet
Timed Iambic tangle freely with Free verse
Ode speak of Ballad with maggie of Tanka.
Couplet spill curry over Epic of Quatrain
Blank verse added onion to a Canzone
Tin tomatoes had Epithalamium stewed
Elegy took along a dry pepper to an Epitaph.
Carpe diem had groundnut oil gushing
Abc verse sprinkled Alliteration with a palm oil
It took Rictameter of locust beans for a Sestina
Salty Burlesque put smiles in a pot of Dirge
The soup was full of Limerick of Etheree.
Confusion of ingredients in the soup
The poet wilt more in dilemma
Which one of them do I maw?
For the soup of the poet is full.
Ayande Stephen.T
12.15pm
17th August 2006
Still on my way to Apagbon in Lagos on the behest of IPC
Chairman,Lanre Arogundade.
Specially packaged for www.poetrysoup.com for being a wonderful family.
We called ourselves the Heptcats
known on the ice as rink rats
Thomas, Don, Stephen, and me
and the Gardner bothers three,
Clark, Andrew, and Little Joe
to the arena, we’d all go
and shinny till supper’s call.
By high school, shinny was lame
us Heptcats sought music fame
Tom on guitar, Don on drum
Steve fiddle, Joe bass did strum
Andy cornet, Clark trombone
me on the accordion
Kings of the Plains Polka scene.
While some say seven brings luck
fame’s fortune never us struck
after school we moved away
Tom and Don in new bands play
Steve, Joe and Clark went to city
More school for Andy and me
Heptcats now forever gone.