Long Styx Poems
Long Styx Poems. Below are the most popular long Styx by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Styx poems by poem length and keyword.
her cat’s blue eyes were the last thing she saw before her eyes closed
vivid dreams that evening were about potential hardships and a new life
She was running across a poppy field, screaming the name of a man
a soldier she barely knew years back, but tonight he was her inspiration
a weird rattlesnake cat’s tail attempted to wake her, but to no avail
she was in the land of the almost dead, traveling the river Styx
a woman who had not crossed over, but was in the clutches of near death
her breathing had slowed to an incredible standstill; a half-life
rapid snapshots of her life came barging into her dream vision
things she had not done, things she wished she could do over
when she awoke, it was all gone, but there was her blue-eyed cat
Friendly sage from the starless height
Now dying without fright
In his human and earthly sight
The cosmos dimmed its light
Dying from old diphtheria
Still his will looked higher
He lost his voice to teach and greet
That poured wisdom so sweet
All he could do was meekly bleat
Uclers formed on his feet
Uclers broke through his gentle hands
And sweat poured from his glands
“I’ve been waiting to see
You at last before I am free
The Divine within me
I will give back with childlike glee
To the Good and Divine
To the highest, beautiful Vine”
“I have hope for you too
I will fly the path of the few
The path that Plato knew
I am glad you will see me through”
He said as he leaked puss
To his dear friend Eustochius
His friend was by his side
Glad in the fertile countryside
A snake slithered to hide
With logos as his inner guide
He took his final breath
Greeting his diligent friend, death
He left at sixty-six
No longer bound to fleshly tricks
Flew above stars and Styx
Flew high above the craftsman’s bricks
He ascended to the One
Thus, his own friendly will was done
Two Words – Redux One
Thumb
Finger
Hand
Foot
Toe
Toes
Blunder
Thunder
Seam
Beam
Stupidity
Contagious
Intelligence
Desired
Planets
Stars
Venus
Mars
Milky
Way
Iambic
Rhyme
Real
Divine
Curve
Time
Nose
Ears
Sticks
Styx
Bald
Hairy
Baloney
Piffle
Top
Bottom
Trump
Mussolini
Charlatan
Fascist
Sun
Mercury
Cosmic
Certitude
Mad
Man
She
Monster
Eyes
Flies
Turd
Bird
Money
Desire
Fruit
Empire
Pain
Pane
Brain
Drain
Red
Blue
Tie
Shoe
Gun
Bullet
Fun
Bun
Wind
Rain
All
Same
Drugs
Thugs
Atwill
Actor
Lamarr
Actress
Snot
Plot
Rasputin
Putin
Monk
Dictator
Zombie
Walking
Run
Bum
Much
Talk
Franklin
Adams
Madison
Monroe
History
Record
Fake
News
Some
Say
Bale
Hay
Right
Way
Not
Today
Toe
Jam
Computer
Scam
Earthen
Dam
Heaven
Hell
Magic
Spell
Athena
Bubo
Perseus
Andromeda
Poseidon
Kraken
Action
Motion
Yes
No
Yup
Nope
Submarine
Scope
Bismarck
Battleship
Gloom
Doom
Titanic
Tomb
Job
Rob
Bank
Banc
Anne
Frank
Humpty
Dumpty
Big
Egg
Stand
Tall
Rick
Ugarte
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
July 22, 2018 (Short-Form Free Verse)
-Awakening In The Lions Den-
Sinking fangs into the flesh of mortality and being reborn without limitation.
Limitless precedence. Cultivated in the shadows like a noose in a wardrobe.
The lions out at play, whilst the queen tries to demoralize liberty.
The altar of loops in the midst of reincarnation. Reach for the stars, find only melancholy.
Gaze upon the winds of time and listen to the siren’s lustrous radiance.
Men can be driven mad and fall ill to the depths after going overboard. Never to return to their purity, soon to be forgotten.
Take heed, for the days grow longer and the nights never end.
Purgatory, the treasure trove of any broken man’s inheritance.
The decadent crown remains so, drifting through the river of Styx.
April is the month Persephone comes back
from Tartarus, crossing the river of death, Styx,
with her stillborn child in her breast. The river she crosses with
her child though flows while carrying the empty souls, it does not move.
The river she crosses for the sake of her child though ferries the dead on the boat, it shows no emotion.
April is the month Persephone comes back
to this side of the pool of memory holding dead child in her breast.
For the curse of seven unripe pomegranate seeds became Hades’ chain, Persephone, who spent long and shivering cold winter months
in the bosom of an unloved husband at Tartarus, comes back turning her relieved, yet deep anxious face, away from the bright sunlight shining on the other side of black poplars forest.
April is the month Persephone, the childless mother,
comes back as a rancorous sad lullaby, while soothing
her swollen breasts with sighs, holding her stillborn child
closely on her tight breast to let the child suck her teat.
April is the month Persephone mourning in the black chiton
comes back as a well of tears. Each time she advances,
she cries because it is so pitiful for her to realize
that the child in her arms is breathless.
Each time she steps forward, she cries because it is so woeful
for her to acknowledge that the child in her arms is soulless.
April is the month the barren woman, Persephone,
who lived in the netherworld to experience such a miserable life
during the dark and long shivering winter months, comes back
with the stillborn child wrapped in the quilt, woven with yarns
spun from the threads of sighs as she warp of resentment,
and yarns spun from the threads of tears as the woof of grudge,
in her feeble weary arms.
Our life is as evanescent as the
trumpet flower of the morning glory.
The merest chapter in the history
of mankind’s ever compelling story.
Various serendipitous ramblings
ultimately contingent ‘on quarry;
retold to captive audience in tones
melodious as silver-tongued lory.
Redolent of an evening-scented stock,
with a crown of wispy hair as hoary,
we insist to recount all endeavours
in its minute shocking details: gory.
An experience that's unsavoury –
remnants that cross river Styx in dory.
Poetic form: XAXA Sonnet. See my article, Introducing Three New Sonnet Forms, here on PS for more details. Also, a 'Summary of Metres' is depicted.
Oh come with me ye boys and girls;
And what stops, I ask, the youth and the old?
Come ye of all age and gender,
I'll lead you to magic, wonders untold.
I lead you deep into woods, dreary and dark,
And moss-laid meadows by a rill and a brook,
Where dragons and demons cast their fiery spell,
Great venturings into quests are undertook.
Did you summon up fairies, is that your wish?
Or perhaps sinewed heroes, comely maidens you'd like.
I'll give them all, and some more, if that's your wish,
Perhap's you'd like some Zen, linked with maintaining your bike.
Most splendorous are my realms, on Earth and afar,
From dark Styx to Elysium, Valhalla's Halls,
To Barsoom and beyond to Syrius, and Dog,
I'll take you through great deserts, through Poseidon's squalls.
Or perhaps you'd prefer to hear from wizened old sages,
Of wisdom, of life, of what awaits you in the pale,
Or some sagas of survival, of heroic strife,
Maybe you want the telling of whodunnit tales.
I'll get tired of the telling, leave plenty unsaid
But you're sure to be richer by the tales in my book
I ask of you nothing, neither fee nor a price,
Just cosily curl with a tome in your favourite nook.
15 Apr 2016
The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Bread
Billy Joel and The Grateful Dead
Suzi Quatro, Styx, Kate Bush
Elton John, Yes, Kiss and Rush
Freda Payne, The Brothers Four
Dolly Parton, Sandie Shaw
The Jackson Five and Bruce Springsteen
Elvis Presley, Slade and Queen
David Bowie, The Beach Boys, Sweet
Rose Royce, Madness and The Beat
Dusty Springfield, Fox, Nick Drake
Neil Sedaka, Sparks, Greg Lake
Three Dog Night and The Ramones
Pink Floyd and The Undertones
Blue Öyster Cult, The Dave Clark Five
Bachman-Turner Overdrive
Golden Earring, Argent and
The Sensational Alex Harvey Band
Mott The Hoople, E.L.O
Dr. Hook and Status Quo
Skeeter Davis, Iggy Pop
Alice Cooper, ZZ Top
The Rev. Al Green and Steeley Dan
The Who, The Jam and Steeleye Span
The Monkees, Abba, Cream and Free
Lynyrd Skynrd, 10CC
Renaissance, Blondie and The Clash
The Faces, Love and Wishbone Ash
The Moody Blues, Deep Purple, Mud
Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Bob Dylan and The Shangri Las
The Kinks. The Birds. The Doors. The Cars
The Seekers and Roberta Flack
The Drifters, T. Rex, Fleetwood Mac
Tina Turner, Prince, James Brown
..And all the music from Motown.
If only I could be five once more
With all the knowledge en wisdoms from distant shores
Oh what a time I would have
At only five, I would be a devilish lad
I would file tax returns just for fun
Only because I have no income
I would say five million I make
What do you think will be your take?
Let em collect from a five year old
The IRS would they be so bold?
Sure they would try, that I know
My name I would say is old Al Gore
I would eat ice cream all day
If mum said stop! Id say no way!!!!
I am only five once in a lifetime they say
So ice-cream is my right!!! For that I will fight!
I would eat cookies as meals
I am only five and not fat at all
I would eat all day and eat all night
Who the hell cares, I’ll be alright
I would fly to Las Vegas
And place bets on number five
I would date cocktail ladies
I show them five is alive
I would change my name
To Alice Cooper
And behead a few chickens
Just to be cool and scare off a few wiccans
I would buy me a bike a boat and a plane
So I could travel like Hefner and act insane
I'd have playboy bunnies, all wrapped in chocolate
Fantasies and dreams, I would swagger and strut
I would drink whiskey with cool aide cause I am only five
Happy hours I would have with hookers in dives
I would have a fake beard, so I appear six
I would listen to rock all night, ending with Styx
Donuts and Pizza, would be my daily fair
Hangovers and Playboy bunnies, why I know you’d all stare
Oh how evil I would be at this tender young age
Smoking cigars and playing the sage
Id rob me a bank for a million dollars
And spend it on Nintendo as I laugh and I holler
No way they would put a five year old in jail
Who cares anyways, you’d know I’d make bail!
Cause I would be only five
I didn’t grow up wearin' no wandering shoes.
No, I didn’t grow up wearin' no wandering shoes.
Mostly I just stayed at home, didn’t have no urge to roam.
I didn’t grow up wearin' no wandering shoes.
I didn’t wanna leave my neighborhood.
No, I didn’t wanna leave my neighborhood.
But my friends married, moved away; no gal asked for me to stay.
I felt it time to leave my neighborhood.
(Chorus)
I didn’t loaf around in loafers,
But I snuck around in sneakers.
I marched around in Corc’rans lotsa klicks.
Spit-shined a dozen oxfords.
Once knew some secret passwords.
Now I’m slowly limping towards the River Styx.
I didn’t wanna travel round the world.
No, I didn’t wanna travel round the world.
Each three years I signed the lines, lived in Europe sev’ral times.
I kinda liked a trav'lin' round the world.
(repeat chorus)
I found I rather liked those wandering shoes.
I found I rather liked those wandering shoes.
Met a gal in Paris, France; we hooked up and took a chance.
Eventually I tossed those wandering shoes.
(repeat chorus to fade)