Long Tented Poems
Long Tented Poems. Below are the most popular long Tented by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tented poems by poem length and keyword.
In Pacifica
I despise that portrait of me.
The likeness ends
with the name.
Yes, Jane Seymour, unbeheaded
Queen of England.
No, not of pinched thin lips
and sharp bird-beak nose.
Those hideous wimples
tented on over plucked foreheads
displaying protruding toad eyes....
I was not the smoldering gypsy beauty
of Anne Boleyn
nor the loud, youthful
excess of everything
Katherine Howard
but look what their beauty cost them:
one head apiece.
I was pretty in my watchful, rich-wombed way.
I carried a King in my devoted belly
and a great love for my cousin-husband,
a fondness for estranged young Mary
and a fervent wish for peace.
I carried the scent of my beloved garden
sweet forsythia
nor the harlot’s stink of
Paris and promiscuity.
I was loathe to undergo
a coronation
I did not want to be Queen
and yet here I am,
the only wife to receive a queen’s funeral
and share a tomb
with the Beheader.
Quote from the original translation
Awake! for the morning in the bowl of night,
has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight,
Lo! the hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan’s Turret in a noose of light!
Dreaming when dawn’s left hand was in the sky,
I heard a voice within the tavern cry,
awake my little ones and fill the cup,
before life’s liquor in its cup be dry!!
Omar Khayyam ‘Rubaiyat’ Persian
World is a tavern and time’s liquor is running dry!
Drink while there is still time!
Wine is wisdom you drink to see the reality of existence
and not be swayed by the untruth and the unreal!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Truth potion - Inspired by the Rubaiyat!
in the warmth of fire where embers shine,
where greed plays havoc with cries of mine, mine!
pour them the taste of that fermented potion,
to awaken their soul to bring them in line!
in tented tavern amidst commotion,
truth frozen, but untruth is in fashion,
I feel your lips on my lips to reassure,
lips of damsel wine that brings elation!
I see the coloured glasses glitter pure,
jingle of anklets on bodies demure,
dancing to please insolence and wealth,
calamity, disease, pretences sans cure.
pour me a cup so I can drink to health,
to bemoan the tale of truth lost in stealth,
in flow of wine there is freedom of breath,
liberation of truth, from deep underneath!
Tamam shud!( original ending of Rubaiyat) means
all clear or the end!!
1st placement
Inspired by the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam in Persian
Translated to English by Scott Fitzgerald
Written 10/11/21
Inspired by a translation poetry contest
Malabika Ray Choudhury sponsored
Pile drivers have replaced gandy dancers
And Mayflower trucks the circus, open-cage parades
Horse drawn down Main Street U.S.A.,
But overnight canvas bosses still command
Roust abouts to raise big top sails,
Over decks of prairie dogs and tumbleweeds.
There are gaudily painted juggernaut ride machines.
Smells of grease, heated white from oozing knuckle joints,
Calliopian music and rounds of happy screams.
A carney operator offers two a Scrambler car,
Teases riders with the tip of his bitten off cigar
A flick on your nose and ash that crashes to the circus grounds.
Jukebox music by Wurlitzer gets tinny with distance
On both sides of musty tented, kid show exhibitions
Mushrooming quiet translucent, sideshow shadow lands.
One sign says:
A WOMAN’S LIVING HEAD!
And inside there is a severed head up on a tabletop.
She answers questions easily, smiles and winks.
A kid shill says she’s doubled up
Inside a box affixed with mirrors.
Our cheeks redden more for her
Than the fact that we are led astray ourselves.
We leave to let more unenlightened in.
That day, I left forever past free throws
To win erstwhile girlfriends
By shooting hoops too narrow to be made. (4/4/21)
I set out on a long journey by train
That spans from end to end
Out through the window flashed past
Assorted scenes one by one
Sky scrapers and mud hovels,
Steaming cities and peaceful hamlets,
Row upon row of maize and wheat,
Bent down under the weight of grain
Cars gliding along crowded streets,
Children school bound in crisp uniforms
Cattle grazing on distant hills,
Cadets on parade beside their tented camps
Smoke coiling up from tall chimneys,
Sizzling cascades from the heights
Swirling streams and glistening rivulets,
Silky meadows and tall mounts
Disposed not to enjoy the scenes,
My mind moored to the final halt
Saw nothing before, but the destination
My fellow travelers – a flaunting menagerie,
Communed with few, connected to none
At every halt, some exited out
And strangers came in to fill the space
But all to myself- my eyes far set
Damning the distance, I waited on and on-
A wretched lone traveler, like a sailor lost in the sea,
Restless I was to reach the shore,
My ears agog to shouts of welcome
My body eager for the warm embrace
I paced the aisles and counted the miles,
Impatient and irate, I grew
I dreamt, my life - a jig saw puzzle,
The pieces neatly fitting together
On arrival after a tedious trip
Once and for all, at my terminus
With my gaze fixed beyond the horizon,
Caring not to see what lies before
I continue to travel miles on end
To a place that outdistances me ever!
March.21. 2022
Form J- Just Write Me a New Poem
Sponsor- Constance La France
Written: January 07, 2005, Contest Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The boy of Roswell grazed at the skies wide.
discovered his real north, by the mountainside.
An ambrosial, vibrant voice rang out as sunlight.
a shepherding glow of his guitar is so bright.
He was singing of eagles soaring free.
In a rowan of aspen and pine trees.
The sweeping curves of rural roads.
There, everlastingly, burn spurring goads.
A yearning request, "Take Me Home."
The untamed and joyful grassy loams.
Art was portrayed in each song.
Nature's musicality is factoid, rich, and strong.
As sung in "Annie's Song," orphic love divine.
A quiet vow, people may feel pride in their whine.
The song "Leaving on a Jet Plane" yields sighs.
The heavens bid a sad farewell to the skies.
His aesthetic voice, enchanting sound, clear and warm,
A flowering tented oasis amid life's storm.
One lesson he imparted was to look within.
We must seek tranquility, where life can win.
The planet was clutched in his palm.
A gentle spirit, in every corner, brings balm.
While the body is dead, the soul can still fly.
Among the peaks, straining for the stars, so high.
When the breeze rustles the grazing land.
His gentle melody is still shifting, as the sand.
A reminder of the grace and harmony of nature.
Here on this spot, John Denver cheerful spirit lingers.
My people are shipwrecks,
they have faces long crushed by tanks.
Many are landlocked,
a few were too oceanic
they got broken by dry-docked hearts.
Most were blitzed by smokescreens.
The trees and industrial units
are so tightly packed,
that snow can only fall
in thin shafts of squeezed daylight.
You can get silenced or dead in those
cold spotlights.
At the edge of the cut lumber
yearlong tractors unearth muskets
discarded by the few who held fast
only to retreat to boneyards and sweatshops.
The unauthorized have been
censured and cancelled,
mute now the people hide their souls.
We took a road much travelled,
a stream of masked riders escaping,
it was a mad rush
to keep up with the fear.
When we got there, we could only
mill about like sheep behind the razor wire.
My people peer form the margins,
form tented tribes native to junkyards and jetsam.
They are washed up as shoreless wreckage,
gaunt reminders of all things forgotten.
They dream of that slim peninsular.
They dream-walk to the end of its long pier,
grasp the last flimsy rail
that keeps them safe from
the past and the future.
An ancient cycle of storms pounds them,
pounds that rickety quay
as it finger-points to nowhere.
The sea slaps their faces,
until they cannot stand, but must sit
inside their open mouths,
be just funnels
for the unrelenting winds
of dark times.
tread on! move on! in this life’s caravan,
unending trail of life from dusk to dawn!
pass skeletons in sand from days of yore,
sand has blown over, past footprints are gone
man with limp walks to meet destiny’s chore,
further he walks further the distance more,
trivial his rewards for journey he takes,
when death beckons all ends on zero score!
why take such a journey past eddy lakes?
through hurricanes and thunder when earth shakes,
the lure of unknown like fly to a lamp,
who can tell them of their pointless mistakes?
the weaving desert like slow moving ramp,
worn out camels stomping to distant camp,
with thirst to quench, in quest of needed rest,
joys of living traded to earn money stamps.
folly of growing wants, desire for best,
under billion stars where soul is a guest,
enamoured by body, life is lead astray,
voices of prophets lost in sweeping dust!
silhouettes of pretty maidens to music sway,
remedy for heartache, is lust for her clay,
the breath in synchrony with flow of wine,
passions swing past as night ends in day!
in pavilion of ignorance, wise resign,
on the carcass of wisdom, fools may dine,
truth is buried, shrouded in black silk drape,
where dance of the devil and lies combine!
the truth is somewhere deep within that grape,
that helps dreaming mind from falsehood escape,
in silver cup of fortitude pour some wine,
and kill the myth, give reality new shape!
in the warmth of fire where embers shine,
where greed plays havoc with cries of mine, mine!
pour them the taste of that fermented potion,
to awaken their soul to bring them in line!
in tented tavern amidst commotion,
truth frozen, but untruth is in fashion,
I feel your lips on my lips to reassure,
lips of damsel wine that brings elation!
I see the coloured glasses glitter pure,
jingle of anklets on bodies demure,
dancing to please insolence and wealth,
calamity, disease, pretences sans cure.
pour me a cup so I can drink to health,
to bemoan the tale of truth lost in stealth,
in flow of wine there is freedom of breath,
liberation of truth, from deep underneath!
Tamam shud!( original ending of Rubaiyat) means
all clear or the end!!
Based on Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat
Written 12/11/2021
I open up the fridge and the light flickers.
The immistakable vaporous flatulence of leftover yesterdays slams (back) shut.
Beer cartons with warning labels and horrific mug shots, people gone missing riddle me this.
Dead soldiers they lay, loose tan cigarettes long since forgotten; shattered.
“Coffee”
Gurgling and steam
Followed by an alarm
I think I may have contracted
the clap.
Two skinny necks with sucular eye-like monstrosities parasitically play host tented atop a human form.
Body changes deformatiorically speaking through similar straws.
Left over astray reeking from purgorious infections; indictment soul.
Worldly and words are not so easily irreducible complexities; unalike.
Give thanks to this nex cup of joe.
My new bff…
Nex-Cup of-joe
'To eyes that lay atop differences'
“Cheers”
We drink our voice commanded coffee and prompt cream and sugar to taste; hung over.
Some things never change.
Kind of like when
I open up the fridge and the light flickers.
9-8-16
Contest: TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO POET HAS GONE BEFORE
Sponsor: The Seeker
Not for nothing
does the light prick my eyes,
a thirst for walking shoes
tightens ankle bones
that parachute out of an inner attic
landing awkwardly into the open throats
of sneakers
still clutching their tendons.
Out from under a dim tented roof
the world is overrun with Asterix's
small confusing marks
that suggest footnotes and disclaimers,
warnings that you should not
take anything as actually actual.
Seriously sober, * I ditch the thought
of turning back,
now the landscape is tripping,
trees are hugging small birds tenderly.
Owls are tugging at dark clouds
moving them through
bright windows of sky.
The world has become a child's coloring book.
It is truly amazing how some mornings*
will keep you insane for a short while
allotting you just enough time
to recall, that you are not yet verified,
that you're n Asterix,
a disclaimer.
never dotting half-open eyes,
never declaring your fixed reality
because
the world keeps editing its meaning,
there are always more footnotes to add. *
No way to dodge fiat decreeing death sentence
for this rambling man
cheesy alias con commit tented mouse élan
Who felt unready to kick the can
On account of violating ban
Against abominable illegal mandate
With no way to commute death sentence
For the simple act of voicing opinion
against exist of heavenly gate
Of hellish underworld
despite religious opiate decreeing penance
Spurious pedagogical poetic rant
dialed up x telephonic times
Not the ravings of some half mad lunatic
Carefully plotted recitation
that springs from combined teachings of Kant
And jolly old Saint Nick
Charges trumped up per this average trump petting don
Purportedly blaspheming judeo-christian paradigm
Upending blind faith equated with hill of beans upon
Which dogma erected epitomized
by complex edifices via grime
Sweat and tears from slave labor
where usurpation of freedom won
Until outspoken spokes persons risked life and limb
To invalidate the existence
of supreme deity who created life
Whether for extra credit or perhaps on a whim
Adam from whose rib cage
without anesthesia but razor sharp knife
Sported eve with a physique quite pleasing and trim
But rather than get lost in the Garden of Eden myth
Final seconds of existence tick away
Without intent to recant statements
?
solely acceptable to b’ni brith
Prompting last words of mine as oye vay
With no regrets - deeming heart of religion flimsy as pith
Thing in the wind or house of cards
vulnerable to blow away!