Long Variants Poems
Long Variants Poems. Below are the most popular long Variants by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Variants poems by poem length and keyword.
A hundred years from now
or in the next moment
I will be dead, gone and back.
Not this 'I' with its sticky ego
gumming up the works;
forever tinkering, jury-rigging
a mental machinery
that was always poorly designed.
Most likely, baby me, is already out
of the chimeric soup,
he or she probably
made of spare parts also.
Are we are all variants
created in a biological laboratory
purposely put together flawed,
'try outs' tested
to see what works best?
Constant experimentation is important.
Reincarnation but an instant
then we are out the door once more
clanking around
trying to look normal
but we won't know 'normal'
until we find it.
*:**:**:**;**:**
this shining burst strokes early day’s first shade
illumination flashing all corners of galaxy’s face
and this my name was marked in womb’s white lace~~
upon Dad’s request ,as training general abroad, was made
it was Mom’s first time to bear middle- child without Dad around
all present christened me many names for fond memories~~
in the end, i had four titles, certificate’s page singing melodies
Amelia for mother’s, one that’s Grandma’s ~~others subtlety profound
Dad’s desire that real name come from district he was assigned
the meaning “goddess of light”~~first morn’s crocheted shawl~~
an image painting streaks of first daybreak’s gold, brushed wall~
that it was loved by kin, a symbol stamped in family’s history designed
still, more terms of endearment were showered upon me
the nickname” Nette” and more always drifted back and forth tenderly~~
yet, it was an abbreviated moniker plucked from late 60’s modernity
for i have come to be me ,fondly known as such~~ a gypsy so free
intimate souls affix real name with tender variants dearly strewn
~~ they cherish essence of its meaning, such presence like blooming light
my being’s shades of nitrogen green and gold gush even at night’s delight
if you can second guess the enchantment of my name, it’s almost… “DAWN”
*************************
(( for Linda Marie's " What’s In A Name Contest" ))
Fitted in well the fine role of a marvelous villain,
Soaked in senile hellish wisdom, he knew who to grill in;
He was he, though he had his numerous clone duplicates,
He was the lone master of his horrid hell-hounding fates...!
Like the original Omega, the regulator,
Channelizer of the blood and its nutrition cater;
Power of spawn Omega has no alternative, too,
He could make or mar any marvel, from out of the blue...!
Fighting against the hell was, for him, like eating candy,
He ended many hell powers, though his acts seemed sandy;
Did he decide to invade and conquer the Earth, none knows,
His battles, conquering the planets, like rockets fast goes...!
Striking anyone or anything that stands in his way,
Over the hell, heaven, and earth Omega has his sway;
Spawn, wonder woman, Superman, Batman... all are great tales,
To grow our kids in adventures, these are, yet, rails and trails...!!!
22 April 2023
Spawn Variants Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: Syllable Counter
In this current pandemic bout
afflicted hearts in pain do shout
though in vain, masks hide grievous pout
they hope to win from virus’ clout.
With many variants that do sprout
come varied vaccines’ “What about?”
oh, faith in GOD is my sure route
HIM I trust against fear and doubt.
Clinging to CHRIST for blessings’ spout
truth of good health over fake tout
wellness reigns against ailment snout
healing* as Covid pest dies out.
In our tea fellowship’s hangout
prayer time is divine workout
while HOLY SPIRIT does scout
enabling every soul devout.
Miracles midst spiritual grout
I expect from the Lord all throughout
drawing close to HIM though lies flout
from social distancing’s care-drought.
*Acts 10:38 …God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with power: who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil; for God was with him.
August 16, 2021
3rd place, "Frankenstein tea party 2021" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joe Maverick; judged on 9/26/2021.
~ Welcome to 2022 ~
A time of conventional and possibly nuclear war
where no one can be sure what each side stands for
A time of global power struggles and shifting alliances
in which the old world order cannot be relied on
A time of soaring cryptocurrencies with no real-world basis
challenging existing monetary systems' homeostasis
A time of 'social media' controlling folks' minds'
with algorithm-based feeds both cruel and unkind
A time of pandemics and variants, one after the other
when masked men fear to shake the hand of their brothers
A time of 'us against them,' secular versus religious
of simmering hatreds on the cusp of explosions prodigious
A time of lightning-fast change so shocking and weird
the dominant emotion around us is fear...
Life at 21, do you remember it?
Things rush at you, hit you, from all directions.
Any small decision can turn into a major plot beat.
What are our lives anyway but the sum of our decisions?
Opportunities contract and expand around us, like breathing—
and what fills those lungs are our test scores and faculty opinion.
College is a land of dreams—we’re all dream catchers—on our own paths, but the paths are mazes shrouded in haze, tumblers in need of combinations, variants that we must learn and memorize though it drains our communal blood.
At test times, the silence in libraries and coffeehouses is deafening,
full, as they are, of hunched-back phantoms toiling on books or blue-lit screens. If it sounds stressful and dramatic—it is. It’s not a time to get raddled—it’s all a big test.
Your world contracts to the sterile and dry— the facts and the moments needed to gather and order them.
That’s why we love breaks. Fall, Summer, Christmas, Thanksgiving—any flavor—break.
In fact, Lisa and I are on break now, I’m typing, on a MacBook Air, in a helicopter, screaming towards Manhattan.
If we don’t die in this shaky, 250mph, 3000-feet out-over Long Island Sound, cricket-like contraption, we’re going to have a great time—if we do nothing but sleep, hug our families and eat turkey—a great time.
.
.
Songs for this:
Little Hercules by Trisha Yearwood
Constant Craving by k.d. lang
Wishing a truer vision of self
expression that breaks the mold of concealment
to face the costs of starkly truthful
to restore confidence chipped, eroded
to drain a bog of self doubt reason
Resolved the splattered mess of sham posing ends
my muffled cry, "Do it now"
Kick start a rush that fills one's veins
voicing faith that needs unearthing
breaking fragments of hibernation
Something happens
we lose our way
tightly wound plans fray
Agitated self hits the pause button
pandemic lethal from variants brutal
Sign around my neck: "Do Not Disturb
Self Improvement on Hiatus"
Poem composed: January 29, 2021 (revised April 12th)
KLIMT
ah! serenity
such lovely symbolism
Oh! Goos-tahf
Gustov, won't you paint for me
Oh! Goos-tahf
Your art works style so worthy nouveay
Apart of the Vienna Sessions
Modern day gilded style, with Japanese methods
Puristic dreamer
Austrian painter
Essences of colors on canvas
KLIMT
ah! serenity
such lovely symbolism
Oh! Goos-tahf
Gustov, won't you paint for me
Oh! Goos-tahf
One variants flowing streams of 3 dimensional colors visual
Vienna sessions
Producing highly decorative blessings
Styles and erotic natures of works
On various canvas uncovered
Birth in 1862
Gustav painter of modern hues
Painter contemporary
ah! serenity
Oh! Goos-tahf
Paint for me a beauty
Lovely of lovelies
"One flowing dress in blue with shimmering silver surface that looks like a painting"
Apart of the Vienna Sessions
Modern day gilded style, with Japanese methods
Gustav painter of modern hues
Painter contemporary Gustav painter of modern views
Be sure my comrade that you sign your name, naming
KLIMT
ah! serenity
such lovely symbolism
Oh! Goos-tahf
Gustov, won't you paint for me
Oh! Goos-tahf
KLIMT
11/18/17
FOR CONTEST: KLIMT
Sponsored by> Anthony Slausen
Paul Jackson Pollock
Condense versions that affected the times,
Immense variants that scoped his pleasures,
Florence immersed unravel a mentor,
Propense expounds at immortal measures.
Paul J. Pollock, painter, from Wyoming,
Haul labeled abstract impressionist art,
Gall at pouring, splashing, horizontal,
Call, was his ardor, loved beyond his heart.
Drip technique viewed canvass at all angles,
Whip body whole, frenetic dancing style,
Flip the brush, traverse the canvass boldly,
Grip abrupts a hold, paint flicks, dons a smile.
Divide hath praised his immediacy,
Pride his fluency of the creation,
Deride the random effects of his art,
Astride the split, sits a fenced summation.
Face that he wore was like seasons changing,
Space art goes on, naught a start, nor an end,
Trace that he drew, nay pictures, but events,
Chase rare acclaimed, never, nor what they penned.
He paints Blue Poles in 1952,
The Australian government purchased it,
Be it known, poles sought, chase made, was futile,
We found the entitled, be a misfit.
First, the Mural most expensive of his,
Burst, Number 17-A, naught mellow,
Dispersed, Mural on Indian Red Ground,
Versed, The Deep black and white, hints of yellow.
Guise his failing marriage with Lee Krasner,
Unwise, alcohol, substitutes his wife,
Empathize, Ruth Kligman, unfaithfulness,
Dies, drunk driving, Ruth lived, late renown life.
2020 February 08
*3rd Place*
STRAND SELECT J ,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand
What do you want?
Is it articulate in your mind?
Will your wish be quelled at the point of grant?
And will you be sure of your find
And endeavor to find it pleasant
And not look behind
What is your wish?
Is it unique or common?
Will you be sure to relish
With your treasuring and opinion
That to your heirs you will relinquish
Your dear gains, their meanings and your passion
What is the need
That wishes and wants be of essence
Other than to commonly breed
Variants, varieties and their command of presence
Meaningful words and honorable deeds
Worth preservation and reminiscence