Long Strenuous Poems
Long Strenuous Poems. Below are the most popular long Strenuous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strenuous poems by poem length and keyword.
Human greed will succeed in heating the planet to a dangerous degree
Consumption destruction evolutions function and strenuous need
How brilliant are we?
We the people structured to feed our unlimited want for want subsequently never satisfied with that what arrives immediately derive an idea from our minds eyed desire and stride forth to acquire obtain abuse and leave behind exhausted until haunted by our thoughtless past judging us in the future as bad
Lazy or grandeur, the unmet demand for, the want to command more, neediness angle, superficial stature
when invasions of land by polar capsules will rid us of shores as we sell ourselves short ignoring reports for the false the wealthy forged to keep wealthy wealthy which in time will make us walk backwards into the seas we once crawled free and so we will see the full cycle of humanity
2050 under the sea
Put a man on Mars or this planet of ours
Infinite bottomless
Infinite limitless
Limitless stamina
Limitless energy
Energy overload
Energy burdening
Burdening burgeoning
Burdening flourishing
Flourishing enterprise
Flourishing company
Company safeguarding
Company sheltering
Sheltering enemies
Sheltering predators
Predators sauntering
Predators wandering
Wandering aimlessly
Wandering mindlessly
Mindlessly faltering
Mindlessly fidgeting
Fidgeting nervously
Fidgeting worriedly
Worriedly galumphing
Worriedly galloping
Galloping anxiously
Galloping fruitlessly
Fruitlessly gathering
Fruitlessly harvesting
Harvesting wastefully
Harvesting foolishly
Foolishly challenging
Foolishly strenuous
Strenuous exercise
Strenuous practicing
Practicing stringency
Practicing discipline
Discipline lineage
Discipline progeny
Progeny fornicate
Progeny procreate
Procreate thoughtlessly
Procreate heartlessly
Heartlessly sickening
Heartlessly hideous
Hideous ordering
Hideous sequencing
Sequencing endlessly
Sequencing infinite
Endlessly…
Infinite…
----------
I think this may officially be a Whirtle McBlitz :-)
During strenuous hours
Too busy to daydreaming
And after a strenuous day
Too tired to dream too
But sonetimes my mind is
Too hardworking to dream
Maybe the challenging outside world
Makes me dream
No interpretations
Let it be
I have bad dreams and sweet dreams
I struggle in my bad dreams
Wake up sweating
But I feel relieved
Because it was only a dream
I smile in my sweet dreams
Wake up happy
Hoping that it may come true one day
But sometimes I feel disappointed
Because it was not true on the spot
And maybe hard to achieve in real life
I'm wandering in two worlds
Dreams just add colours to my life
Although without compromise
But free of charge
Like a movie on the TV programme
"Referencing an old poetic imagism sort of poem I wrote some four years ago--almost to the day---wherein lies a paradox," ... by The Poet.
MIRROR, MIRROR
I was in a room,
there, I saw a mirror,
and then I saw him,
I told him to get out,
and he did,
and he took the mirror,
and I was no more.
--The End--
Albeit, natheless
of no consequence
admissible ... thing
humiliating
how now brown cow ... speak
named ... must be unique
imagination
generalization
easy, perspective
yours or mine, fictive!
that stretch, what is there,
images ... despair
strays loss memory
rare remembering
instantaneous
matter strenuous
reason of drainage
mayhaps some carnage
yes answers reason
purpose--intention
... a dreamer affects
... or schemer effects
telltale prophecy
image precisely.
Your mouth,
it tastes poetry
when you release it and kiss...
With drawn lips
savor,
of sugar and salt,
when you rant,,,
perfume and tenderness
when you venture...
Your look,
has the lightness of a bird
when you love...
Prey Inquisition,
when you imagine,
owl thoughts,
when you're fascinated...
That your hands never
bloodied in
deal with life,,,
strenuous hands,
when in farewell...
silky hands,
when you caress...
Since for you, I did
this poem opened,
I wish with heart you
to vibrate with me,
that you rejoice to live intensely..!
lacksidasical larry leaps lovingly through the air
making mincemeat marauders truly want to care
nine nefarious nigglebuns are trying not to stare
outrageously outstandingly outrunning marathon mare
providing pristine plots to princely priestly pree
quizzing quality quails wondering why I am free
resident ruffians reaching residual responsibility
stressing strenuous starlight studies under thee
tricky trustworthy triple treats tripping up and down the bay
understanding understudy underlings trying to have their say
visualizing various viillains we often meet along the way
‘xoecting ‘xact ‘xasperating ‘xersizes to save the day
zany zigzagging zealots zipping into the fray
~Authors And Writers~
( The Bell)
Authors
Love to write
Writers authors work hard
Glad when finish great book
Both just love to write
They work lots of hours
Final product is their most joyful
Reward
Writers
Work so hard
Go through strenuous process
Books can take long time
Lots of hours editing reviewing
Many changes are often made
Authors writers editors are a great
Team
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2016
March.04.2019
'Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.'
- Mark Twain-
~Author's Notes:
The "Bell" is a poetry style created by Dorian
Petersen Potter, aka ladydp2000, on September,18,2010.
My life has been chock-full of rites of passage
From rising up through the ranks of Scouting
To completing all the grades and degrees
Of formal schooling
To the challenge and discovery
Of dangerous adventure sports
And the many misadventures they naturally provide.
It’s included being initiated into
And doing strenuous religious disciplines
And the good old all-American discipline
Of raising and supporting a family.
It’s also included the pain and suffering
Of life-threatening injuries and accidents
And heart-threatening divorces.
But in all of this, looking back in retirement,
I’m not sure I ever got a complete rite of passage experience.
Did I somehow miss a step
Or feel the next level would give
What the last hadn’t?
Was there an insatiable need for more,
Bigger, better, more powerful hits of Life
To prepare me for what,
A bigger scope and experience of Living?
Was I stuck, and am I still,
In some arrested development;
Part way out of a shell, cracked but hard as iron
A soul confused by what it means to manifest?
Maybe it wasn’t just a matter of becoming
A more mature person
As much as a more complete being,
One whose idea of complete while incomplete
Is ever expanding.
From the perspective of the Infinite
What is an appropriate Rite of Passage?
From the perspective of God
What is the step we have to take
To be complete?
Complete surrender, complete realization,
Complete and perfect communion
Effort and release
To complete the path we youthfully took up in vain
Before we ever could conceive
It is, and always has been, without end…
(8/9/26)
Play with word pun in flow and fun;
Opt to fling thought in lines that rhyme;
Etch a fond run in rain and sun;
Taut and loose plot that stretch each chime;
Ink flow and feel with love that lives;
Charm hurls to heal pulse that now gives.
Line by line seek to stretch wordplay;
Image funds say as ideas show;
Choice strives to peak feelings that stay;
Embrace fine sway in words that glow;
Note treat or treat in rhymes that pay;
Claim a sure voice as poetic flush;
Endow word poise and hurl your brush.
Love funds passion as passage wings;
Offer to thrill the words that come;
Invoke action in thought that flings;
Trust your goodwill to simply sum;
Embrace function as words can sing;
Reap a new score as textures forge;
See life galore in feel and gorge.
Why must you write in strenuous style?
Apply your zest in wordplay quest;
Intuit and cite bold feel and wiles;
The path you test in rhymes laid best;
Indulge each bite with unique smiles;
New play and pun decide intent;
Glimpse the long run with deep content.
Frame your true voice with words that tell;
Observe each choice as feel that dwells;
Reach with clear poise the song you sell.
Yield to sure light the journey clear;
Observe fond sights that mimes good cheer;
Urge prompts your flight to conquer fear.
Notice the surge that makes you write;
Once fragrant urge sparks brand new bite;
Word concrete purge in poetic cite.
Leon Enriquez
07 May 2014
Singapore
Liberation of Paris (August 26, 1944)
Who would have thought
To see American soldiers
Under the Arc de Triomphe
Marching along the Champs-Élysées,
In the Liberation of Paris,
When a short while ago
German soldiers’ goose steps
Thumped down the avenues,
Filling Parisian hearts with fear,
With Nazis everywhere
Enforcing Nazi dogma
In La Belle France.
On both occasions
People broke down and cried:
Out of horror in 1940,
And then out of joy in 1944.
That generation fades,
And another takes over.
Three times played out,
But France’s honour was restored
When de Gaulle and his entourage
Stood at the base
Of the Unknown Soldier’s grave:
« Bonaparte, voici ta gloire,
La souveraineté française reste! »
(“Bonaparte, here is your glory,
French sovereignty remains!”)
The monolith embellishes
The worthiness of a culture,
Felt in the eyes of those present
When the wreath is laid:
« Combattants de la résistance c'est votre heure
Beaucoup sont morts et certains
Emporté dans les bras des anges. »
(“Resistance fighters, this is your hour.
Many have died, and some
Were swept away in the arms of angels.”)
Paris fell in silence;
Liberation was loud.
Gay Paree, where Mademoiselles
In love with life itself
Fling themselves upon soldiers,
And I feel expression to say,
« Belle ville de lumière! »
(“Beautiful city of light!”)
We cry for someone
When there is time
And enlighten each other
With finger-wagging.
The slaughter was atrocious.
The wait, strenuous.
And I’ve become reflective.
I was raw. I had not experienced
And would have kissed her
Like there was no tomorrow,
But my candle was extinguished
In the Seine’s ebb.
***
Note:
During World War Two (1939–1945), the “Libération de Paris,” aka Battle for Paris, lasted from August 19, 1944, to August 25, 1944. The formal surrender of the Nazi occupation of Paris, France, was on August 26, 1944. General Charles de Gaulle (1890–1970) was the leader of the “Free French” forces during World War Two, fighting against the German military occupiers of France.