Long Triviality Poems
Long Triviality Poems. Below are the most popular long Triviality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Triviality poems by poem length and keyword.
A mirage-etched boulevard I paved
to the realm of futile triviality
along the contorted contours
of the disguised desire of the beloved
where the intrepid roses bloomed
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me to the oasis of reverie.
In the motif of the morphed image
the lanced landscape turned
into a golden garden of glory.
The fringe of flying clouds
captured the halcyon hues of the horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
the captivating concerto of the night
for the ruby moon to rise.
Under the seamless sky of satin sheen
the reflection of the moon held you afloat
on the passion waves of the stardust surge,
enticing me by the sequins of your charisma.
“I filled the night's chalice with knots of desire”
as you came with the argentine flair
in the ardent aurora of mesmeric moonbeam,
lifted the shroud of secrecy,
entered my forlorn abode,
where I dreamed I was the full moon in your sky.
After the night melted into diaphanous dawn
I found “it’s raining roses and love riots”
in your garnet garden,
sparkling as rare crystalline ecstasy
blooming my feeling of lingering longing,
but “I learned how to live unkissed until”
I saw the patina of the unfurled roses
shimmer in your lilac lips,
fused on mine, seemed like the melody
of serenading diamond dew resonating
in the flushing meadow of my yearning heart.
Your amethyst temptation stoked flaming desire,
turning my craving into radiant ember of love.
I tasted the luscious lust of the first kiss
amorously carved by its fervent flare.
Eddy lives in the gullibility and cohesibility of a gritty city
Between assimilability civility reality and triviality
Here Eddy’s senility is merely an eligible technicality
A wink of eccentricity fragility debility futility impossibility risibility
Still under that mighty illusion of invincibility virility and viability
Invisibility’s equivalent to gentility favouring stability and incredulity
Eyes void of deceptibility infallibility predictability divisibility
Eddy is still irresistibly witty with intelligibility bordering geniality
The indelibility of his ability versus disability for agility and flexibility
Gives Eddy eligibility admissibility accessibility feasibility visibility and divisibility
Implicit credibility whimsicality spirituality frivolity and squeezability
Eddy believes there’s no margin for self-pity when you own a pretty itty bitty kitty
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submitted on March 25, 2018 to contest ALLITERATION POEM sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 2ND
against the sky
spread out
corners of evening
days of hands
of indecision:
revisions
come&go
in formulated
phrases
days
&
ways
known to all
to its crisis
prayed:
talk
with
a smile
of no great
matter:
overwhelming
questions
as patterns
in the mind
meticulous
yet obtuse
sing to me
in
white &
black
a
predicament
evolved
into
despair
triviality
ransacked,
irony
conceived
explicit
experiences
self-regarding
sardonic
self-conscios
inadequately
revealed:
a sequence
of
images
of
imagined logic
visions
of conceit
failure
futility
time
indivisible
inhabited
by allusions
fulfilled
by
sensibility
Without solid footing, idealism is a dream
From a position of strong sociopolitical reality
Words kill idealism without a scheme
Idealists deem the short-term triviality.
The ideal balance between man and nature
A serene scene of transcendence unfolds
Driftless area, spawning a densely green layer
An unusual utopia that captivates nave's goals!
It was alike sitting in a sumptuous Xanadu
This is the demagogue of hedonistic empiricism
His grain store once fed a ruler's thirst for Vodou
Scrutinize the soul's reality and let go of idealism.
Civility is being corrupted by darkness
And emotional neediness with no actual basis
Scary aspects of idealism have fallen into sadness
An intense wave of faith is still growing in stasis.
Self-awareness widens and shifts direction
Falling leaves prompt introspection
Knowing oneself contributes to growing faith
It pervades common care, as a cognitive wraith.
Until you ween, that hills and stone are dense
Don't misjudge the rigidity of cement slurry
You will not grasp the glories of this thence
Glass and air both put your heart in jeopardy.
People describe me as an idealist
I perceive things that don't utterly exist
I remember the positive, not the mystical
The world coexists; I am not egotistical.
It shows that there is potential for good
And that's not to mention the blatant cruelty
How we could have better withstood?
Notwithstanding, I prefer to admire the beauty.
Written: January 21, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 34 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
"The selective instinct of the artist tells him when his language should be homely, and when it should be more elevated; and it is precisely in the imperceptible blending of the plain with the ornate that a great writer is distinguished. He uses the simplest phrases without triviality, and the grandest without a suggestion of grandiloquence."
~ George Henry Lewes
I am a fan of simple,
Not highly ornate,
I must understand the words,
So as to relate;
When I read poetry deep
With toughest vocab,
And the meaning of the lines
Are too hard to grab,
I'll simply skip it and go
To the next best one,
Too flowery is not cool,
Such poems I'll shun;
As they say, keep it simple,
It works best for me,
Ornate language is okay,
But it'll just bore me,
For I'm a fan of simple,
Not highly ornate,
But give me ornate trinkets,
Now, that would be great.
24th March 2023
Rhyme scheme: abcb
For Constance La France's "Writing Challenge - 'O' words" contest
A mountain sits
And a river flows
A mountain suffers her tears
And the infiltration of life
Wildflowers necklace it
As the goats dance up and down its rocky parts.
It can wiggle off snow as well as a buffalo a gnat
Knowing it will be better for the snow to leave for awhile and come back when it has changed from its journey back.
The mountain stays
And only changes slowly
And it comforts the variable lives
That tend toward a flippant love
All around it
How weak is a volcano to succumb to its burning lust? How selfish.
A mountain is our shoulder
It endures the triviality and variability of short bursts of butterflies
In the meadow
Constantly
And outliving most of us.
Like the crying sky whose tears fall on him
And forget on a sunny day that he will always be her shoulder
Even when there are clouds between them.
I see a long winter coming
(yes, I know)
the dull gray spreads ahead of me,
there ain’t no use in running
(if I could)
from yourself you can never flee.
There’s a long winter coming
(how’d I know)
you’d take it to such an extreme,
thought that we were something,
(yes, you did)
when to ‘benefits’ we agreed.
…Oh, the lies we tell,
to fake peace with ourselves,
you were in that dark place…
but nothing did you say…
In the long winter coming
(how will I)
forget the picture I was shown
by a cop so condemning
(let me see)
just how you’d laid yourself low.
In this long winter coming
(I will ask)
why you couldn’t tell me the truth,
always said we’d end it
(if we found)
ourselves in love with someone new.
…Oh, how could it be,
a triviality,
with fire took a turn,
and how it left you burned…
O’er the long winter coming
(I will say)
I’d have left her if I had known,
if I’d learned of your feelings
(I’d take you)
as mine to see if it would grow.
Now the long winter coming
(weighs on me)
all that was lost with your dark choice,
I’m left here, undone, and
(every day)
I wish I could still hear your voice…
Through the shadow of thought and shards of questions,
Where the soul dances among constellations,
Stretches in burning silence the difference,
That separates through valleys and peaks - a him from a her, without appearance.
He, wanderer in the nights, steps across the field of search,
Towards the warmth of a harbor of ephemeral states, of empires.
A place like a world where desire is currency,
And where dreams are brief, just a sliver of... stardom.
And a she, a seeker on the restless ocean,
Navigates her soul towards an unending truth.
For she seeks not just a fulfillment passing with the night,
But an art, a duet in corners of a wise world.
Where he is not just a mere actor on the stage,
But a crafter of magic, a Michelangelo in the arena,
And the deed of love - a living work of art,
A canvas where soul and body merge in harmony.
They know that love is not an act without traces,
A little beyond the herds’ instinctual embraces.
For in the rehearsal with longing, passion, and art,
One builds a masterpiece, stirring the heart’s beat apart.
When she and he meet in that grand vision,
And love is not just flesh but becomes a condition,
It outshines any usual act, any triviality,
And each embrace becomes a regal festivity.
Oh, the true appreciation between a him and a her,
Is not found in the fleeting passage, which vanishes like the laying of a star.
It rises into the sky of passion, where bodies are instruments,
And love - the conductor for enduring symphonies' events.
So, if you care about the difference that makes you complete,
Do not lose yourself in soulless and aimless pursuits, obsolete.
Let love be sculpted like an artist shaping time,
And each kiss, a master’s stroke on eternity's rime.
Who Am I To You?
Am I just a stranger?
An online lover or a nobody
That once who passes by
In a lifetime of your stream ?
Maybe a poet?
A woman only good in sweet words.
Easily fooled by his own feelings,
And by the world that often says
I am just another plaything?
A con artist? A pervert? A toy? Or
Perhaps, one of your movie character
That portrays your imagination
In a stage play of fantasy and dreams?
I am not perfect.
This is reality.
I am not a role model.
I have lapses and flaws.
I am not the woman of your past.
I can't look like her or be like that.
I am not whole, I am also broken
And still have issues of my own .
But the truth is, all of us
Needs to be loved and trying to love
In one way or another, our denials
That we keep telling ourselves
Will be defined by time and memories,
If we're truly happy of being alone.
If not, then tell me
Who am I to you?
Please tell me what we have
Is true, before I go...
©® Ven-lyn A Valdez
Who You Are To Me?
I find myself in thy manger
You are a modern Peabody
Whose pen aids to dye
My board with awesome dream
You are more than a poet!
The one out of all beautiful birds
That freely flies around the earth's ceiling
Unlike the caged birds with less ways
Timely been abating
The twist, the challenge, the fruit outpour
Enough pieces crushing like a constrictor
Holding unto a great aspiration
Flowing through grace so agleam
I am not only for prospect
This may be false in its seeming triviality
I am not a mollycoddle
Yet have respect for tight clause
You become of me, an enthusiast
With keen interest not eyeing to scat
Even when all of it is token
Bountiful harvest are from vial seeds, sown
Nevertheless, in my fuss
I will always be the real dove
And not act up for trials
Abandoned on shelves
The much ado about plight in diaries
Crying for reading to be well known
Life is short, let it be
Less to the review
More to life shouldn't really be halve
Totality is key to overlook every foe
You are who you are
Keep doing what you know best
Someday, you will be the shining star
Silent helpers locate what resisters detest
Shine on.........
©® Wems Henry Temmy
40 years passed
Judges came and went
Unrelenting dates continued
Agents filled their pockets
Justice changed its meaning
Shamelessness became order
Helplessness turned into rule
I shrunk to old and infirm
Bankrupt in commitment,
Ignorant in law
Devoid of perceptivity
Shorn of dignity
Dumb sitting at the dais
Working as a judge
Reflecting triviality and indifference
Deciding the course of my life.
Me, the poor creature
A human till yesterday
Reduced to bones and flesh
With heart broken, tears dried
Sitting amidst gossips and laughs
Of brokers and middlemen
Waiting for my turn
In a room empty of values
Diminished to a number
Surrounded by greedy eyes
In a place no less than a den
Of heartless brutes and bullies
Emitting suspense and uncertainty
Killing the intellect and wisdom
Of a scared and tired soul
Drowning him into an endless drama