Long Tutored Poems
Long Tutored Poems. Below are the most popular long Tutored by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tutored poems by poem length and keyword.
"Taking away my cell phone would be as painful as being neutered."
~ by poet
Twenty years ago, no one would have predicted
that to cell phones, the world would become addicted.
We text instead of calling, though we have the choice.
I barely remember the sound of my child's voice!
Often, I forget where I've left my darn phone.
Without a text notification, I feel very much alone.
It's part of my anatomy that I should have neutered,
a simple surgical procedure that should be tutored.
Remove it from my hand with a scapel or a knife.
Can I survive without it? It's instrumental to my life!
Cutting it off would be an act of painful castration.
Maybe a lobotomy instead of neutering amputation?
I won't promise that if it's done, it would be a cure.
If it's no longer attached to me, how will I endure
not being able to keep in touch with my best friend,
and how long does it take for neutered scars to mend?
Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 16
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.
Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Hindi Title ‘Madan Dahan’
Born out of delusion,
And brought up by illusion,
Tutored by evil treachery,
This devil is indecorous.
He would surely destroy,
All pretty creations of God,
If he is saved from the stroke,
Of penance at this moment.
He was living in human form,
As intoxicated sinner of Earth,
Ego had degraded him,
And death brought him nearer.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 7th May 2012.
To continue…..
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Clarifications:
In those days, when we feared the truth
not for ignorance of it within ourselves
but for the dangers posed by speaking aloud
against the prejudices of masses too well-tutored
in lies and hatred, we kept our secrets
and hid among the crowds, assuming
their rabid colorations, spewing the same
evil venom, spreading all the same lies,
pretending that the past was better
than the present, that regression
to our yesterdays, the years gone by,
could create for us, anew,
that Eden we all lost, that sanctuary
from our knowledge of the world, of evil;
and, our regained ignorance
would restore the bliss we lost
with our innocence. That, the biggest lie,
feeds our growing xenophobia --
hastens humanity's ultimate demise.
Time does not flow backwards in this universe;
and there is no "us versus them" --
we are all crowded here together
on this fragile planet, all in this together.
We must be kind, and love one another, or die.
sometimes we wish the freedom of sunset's pink clouds
that cross the sky in ribbons
sometimes one urge piles on top of another,
the gathering bounty of spring
like
an urge to run through April rain, overcoming arthritic pain,
an idle wanderer within
an urge to shake off the Blues like Jello loosened from its mold
an urge to spring clean clutter, messy like seaweed draped
over a walrus
an urge to stifle stress that sizzles like bacon frying,
displacing contentment
an urge to flush a slush pile of "to do's" that gag sleep
an urge to watch birds at the feeder, tutored travelers
chattily sharing stories
an urge to inhale the solemnity of church to void
the wounds
of striving
no longer subdued by the clean clasps of cold,
nature nudges newness into empty spaces
for winter leaving lifts the script of cold unforgiving,
like a child reciting rhymes
Poem composed April 17, 2023
Wooden Whispers
Harsh winds have shaped the hollows of my cheeks
artistic rains ingrained life’s ruddy smile
wise owls tutored students from my peak
young lover’s etched their passing – single file.
Time and sun have added creaking to my joints
I bore high water marks yet stood my ground
a moose once spent the night in snowdrift maze
lone visitor in months of Winter’s white.
I rest under clear sky and budding trees
while strangers pose for “selfies” ‘neath my eaves
long for the hum of saw and hard heeled boots
childhood play before they fled their roots.
I serve a distant melancholy need
of simpler times and every dream a steed.
©8/18/2017
submitted to – Covered Bridge – Poetry contest
Those words
Yes I wrote those words
But I could not remember when I wrote them
Wild thoughts flew into my head
Like mad rabbits
And my mind expanded like the cosmos
Yet I could not remember
When
I wrote those words
With inspiration from God
And I wrote those words
Like I was tutored by the Muses
Beautiful words
Which I said to the young lady
Some were true
But most was not
The words were matured due to the experience I brought
Yes I lied
I can not hide
To seek attention
And can I mention
That the words I wrote was a brainchild of my mind
Because when you find wisdom
You leave all that wisecracks behind
I will wrote on till a grow and gray
I will pray that this wonderful talent
Will stay
Words can deceive
And It may make one wiser
Words can be harsh
But some are nicer
‘By means of death’ –
No softened course,
No path of cushioned ease,
No passage smooth
In gentle calm
Could circumnavigate
That destiny of death.
No other route lay open
To that future scene
Whose riches lay imprisoned
In an ancient promise
Far beyond
The reach and grasp
Of mortal men.
Long years
And generations endless
Passed in fragile hope
And frail anticipation
Of the coming day.
No eager wish,
Or strong desire,
No pious prayer,
Could gain fulfilment
Of its certain pledge.
To ease impatience
For Messiah’s dawn,
Some would at times
Invent their own Immanuel
And blindly see
A prince of earthly style
And purpose bold
To vanquish
Israel’s enemies of state.
Presumption thus
Interprets ill
The treasured promise
Of the heavenly King.
‘By means of death’ –
A course repugnant
To the tutored intellect
Of Israel’s scribes –
No less to sacrificial priests,
A path impossible
For their imagined Prophet-King.
At last He comes
At odds with human mind
And notions fair,
The Lamb of God,
To tread
The purposed path
To death –
The only means
To loose for men
Those promised riches
Of the eternal King.
‘By means of death!’
No other way.
The Giver comes
To give himself!
His life must forfeit be
To legalise that gift of life
And all his vast inheritance
Display to man.
And me!
‘By means of death’!
“He is the Mediator of the new covenant, by means of death."
Hebrews 9:15
The bastioned confidence of quarried pride
Conceived no ingress save by iron decree;
Yet vesper-dew, where noiseless graces bide,
Tutored the adamant to clemency,
Till lichened liturgies, by increments unseen,
Unthroned the obdurate from its sovereign mien.
The littoral catechised the granite's bone,
Not with assault, but sacramental wear;
Each undeciphered ripple, one by one,
Absolved the precipice of all its air,
As though the meekest ordinance of tide
Could loose what catapults had never tried.
Thereafter—vision trespassed into sense:
A child, ungarlanded by name or throne,
Inclined his silence with such innocence
That altitudes remembered they were sown;
The mountain, recollecting elder birth,
Relinquished all pre-eminence to earth.
Then every fortress, founded upon weight,
Began to expatriate its ancient claim;
The stars themselves postponed their sovereign state,
As though eternity had altered name;
And what no conflagration could dissever,
One feather of the Infinite undid for ever.
I am but a mere child clinging to my mother s breast
Sucking out the love she has inside, as it makes me
Dizzy as if I am high.
The warmth and nourishment that it gives
Gets me stronger – with the strength to live.
Mother! Your love can’t be denied, it is something you cannot hide.
And you may not be around to see me grow
But in your heart you will know.
Whether it be distance or death that keeps us apart
You will always have me in your heart.
You nurtured and tutored me to know right from wrong
And showed me how to become unselfish and strong.
You showed me how a mother s gentle heart can be
And from indignations and chains you set me free.
We was born free – no leg irons or shackles to be found
Even the umbilical cord was thrown to the ground.
We as children are born free as eagles up in the sky
We could soar and we could climb.
All of this has been given to me, because you and GOD set me free.
GOD gave us a brain for us to use, and a heart with which to choose.
But the most important thing he gave to me
Was a mother “who loved me “.
© L . RAMS 12414
Please dear Sir
you have tutored me and known me for years
as have all other teachers and your peers,
we get along like silver knife and fork!
these past semester has been full of cheers
my school work has never been in arrears,
never did I let you down on homework!
like before as diligent as ever,
I read lessons from cover to cover,
and finished all my home work late past night,
I walk to school a mile along river,
did so today braving wind and shower,
in satchel was my homework done alright!
halfway down I pass a gothic tower,
flower gardens where butterflies hover,
not a human soul anywhere in sight!
as I was pacing my way to get here,
suddenly I heard some flapping quite near,
all of the sky went up in flames and bright!
like I have been taught in our school before,
was on hands and knees, went on all my fours,
I heard eerie sound, felt a big birds flight!
it was trying to pluck me from the floor,
but just managed to snatch my bag and soar,
to perch itself on birch tree of great height!
ran as fast as I could in abject fear,
was scared and thought it may be on my rear,
looked back to see but I was still in fright!
Now Sir! you may not believe what you hear,
perched on top of a tree, could see quite clear,
a huge pterodactyl like flaming kite!
you may think
I may be lying or have gone berserk,
but am still
shaking with ordeal of lost homework!
N/A in John Lawless sponsored
‘Flaming Pterodactyl ate my homework’ contest!
10 syllables with 3 syllables interspersed at the beginning and towards the end
written 22/01/2021