Long Veneration Poems
Long Veneration Poems. Below are the most popular long Veneration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Veneration poems by poem length and keyword.
A fter school play was always a given,
F or there were so many others to play with.
I was part of the "Boomer" generation...
E verything came so easy to us.
L ater, in my studies, I became interested in History,
D elving into the watershed moment of WW II.
O nce I started reading a book on it, I could not put it down.
F reedom, I thought, was just another dictionary word.
W hen I began to look more closely at what it cost,
H ead and Heart started to see that period more clearly.
I realized that there was so much more to it than
T he names of places where battles were fought,
E numerated in the books I read and films I watched.
C an you imagine a World at War,
R educing the lives of so many to give us the freedom we enjoy?
O nce I traveled to Hawaii and visited the Punch Bowl Cemetery.
S eeing the graves of some who fought in that war
S eeing the cost of my freedom...in that Field of White Markers.
E very time now when I think of "The Greatest Generation",
S ome tears well up, for my freedom's humble veneration.
This is an ACROSTIC.
To my knowledge, there is no set rhyme scheme or required number of lines or syllables. What the form must have, however, is a word or thought spelled out by
using the first letter of each successive line, which summarizes the meaning of the poem.
This is one of my favorite forms for several reasons. It is difficult to write a concise poem in this form. It is thought provoking for the writer to keep on point.
It is much easier for the reader to understand the writer's intent by the Vertical word/s spelled out by the first letter of each line. The subject can be short or long, serious or funny, or just nonsense. It does, however, make you work at it.
written: 12/14/15
by: Dan Cwiak
for the contest: Poetry Writing #1
sponsor: Broken Wings
*LIFE, WHAT A RUSH*
Silence needs to be spoken and put out like a cigarette
The joy - the laughter - the expression found in a silhouette
Inhale the wholesomeness - Exhale the worthiness.
The soul- addicted to all the toxins this world contains
Life is like nicotine circulating throughout your veins
Wrath is a venom that absorbs all the fumes that flow
Trigger the mind and you'll see smoke blow
Hope entwined with clouds of wisdom
Tobacco strangling every inch of the nerve system
Vapors exceed emotions, love and veneration
Smog proceeds in slow motion
Puffing the beauty, by draining the heart and mind
Filtering all the nicotine bad breath left behind
~*~
Curtain Time
by Odin Roark
The warnings
The preparation
The moment
Such expectancy
Be it plebeian
Or royal instinct
Openings' glitter
Brings incessant challenges
Making hoary one's existence
So functions the undertow
The inward monitor
Yours
Mine
Those backstage
Probity unseen
Untested
How diligent this amorphous reality
This integrity always in the making
Urging while cautious
Impotent while daring
Tactical while fearful
For it knows missteps
Begin in the wings
Yet
Blinding lights lure
Sounds of acceptance seduce
Daring casts its fate
Across one's personal footlights
Moment's truth is heard
Why
This need for lights
Applause
Veneration
Once reserved for artists
Of the stage?
We only know
Celebritydom
Entices the ignorant
The smart
The genius
And the saintly
The world is one big curtain
Al-Qaeda
Congress
Hollywood
Domestic and career aspirants
Even philanthropies
Clamor for the luminosity
The sweat of anticipation
The roar of acceptance
Not yet knowing the silence
Of an empty house
Such is reality
Sooner
Or
Later
my gaze upon my sweet love is amorousness and awe
I find everything about this man of mine erotic
his eyes are full of hunger and yearning
and my thirst for him is pure lust and desire
when we are apart I am filled with disquietude
as my need is both joy and misery
love like this is a beautiful rapture that comes unbidden
it is an infinite bond that is fragile as a blooming flower
I am swept away in the fervidness of this passion
it comes to us like wind driven storm clouds twirling
and we are sent swirling on vast rolling ocean waves
then, we plunge into the deep fathomless blue
and we are drenched with this wild love
when we are together there is an intensity and aching
a vehemence fierce and bold with a captivating promise
he makes me so happy and I glow with effervescence
our love is growing like a wandering forest vine searching
we can talk for hours and hours for time means nothing to us
I have a deep respect for his opinion on all matters
and he is a good listener and likes it when I read my written words
and I see and feel his many admirable qualities
oh, for this man I have great reverence and veneration
and when he kisses my waiting lips red as wine
I gasp in the knowledge that this romance we share is eternal
it will endure and go on forever and will be unending
I love this man with- a love- p e r p e t u a l . . . .
________________________
February 7, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/A Love Perpetual
Copyright Protected, ID 1112-829-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the $ contest, Free Verse On Love
sponsor, Lu Loo
First Place
OKTOBERFEST
Wielding the power of the hefty beer stein,
Energized with viking-like biceps,
We lift the suds in veneration
In front of our patriotic hearts.
Lively band plays Ein Prosit,
Lips coordinate, resounding louder and louder.
Parade of dirndls and lederhosen -
Amorous couples enjoying Bavarian dance,
Resplendent in reddened faces -
Tapping, turning, with joyful
Yearning, as the oak and maple
Leaves change their costumes, and
Interrupt the Summer’s warmth.
Kamikaze arms tire, dropping their steins, while
Everyone laughs and cheers.
Tables set for a feast of Black Forest
Hams, Potato pancakes, creamy sauerkraut.
Empty stomachs applaud, then quake at the sight of
Rouladin, a savory favorite of flattened beef
Elegantly rolled up with bacon, vegetables, and
Sumptuous pickles. Tantalized tongues ooh and ahh.
None will be left, yet the festival lasts, supplying us with
October’s sensate salted pretzels, a mouth-watering
Treat. Need to down another beer
Or two or three…I’ve lost count!
Memories made on this chilly day,
Ornaments of cuckoo clocks and steins bought for
Remembrance will be hung from December firs.
Robotic we stare, eyes and ears filled with sights and sounds:
Oktoberfest is in the air and,
We’ll party like there’s no tomorrow!
10/13/2016
Mind marooned in complexity
Intricacy singular in each living
The psyche shapes unique entity
On alien attribute it won’t cling.
In reserved recess riddles hide
Sub-conscious search can’t find
Probing plea of the world outside
Can’t contrive the closed mind.
A pining prisoner of own making
A cocoon in introvert isolation
I see all the faceless faces fading
Me wedged in web of self-adoration.
My morphed mind turns Nemesis
Makes a mirror of mirage for me
I look into it lurching to the oasis
It is only me that I always see.
In self-veneration, a false perception
I notice Narcissus in me lonely lurk
A secret switching over to obsession
Lies latent, languishing in the dark.
____________
February 10, 2023
For Brian Strand Upto You Contest
oh, my precious child,
let me kiss away your weep -
do not be troubled, the moon but bids good night,
stars whispering their ancient lullaby,
swallowing not, the western reach,
but merely giving pause to the day, waking
so that the grateful star of morn
should adorn its burgeoning bosom.
let not the salty seep of your cheek yet trill
such certain and elegant inequity there be,
should a stain darken that pinafore, pressed.
a scandal be my name with thy mother,
should those eyes dampen your Sunday best,
and surely not for the sake of Luna's languor -
oh, such dire dalliance, that!
I adore thee, my wee lass
boundless are the ways -
echoed in your mother's smile
there, so deep your gaze.
'tis true, his aged face did blush, fleeting,
dipping his dusty chin to the sea,
but it was for Sol's regard only,
their goodnight kiss - pressed tender, a-cheek
and no misfortune was spun.
we shall return, my child, sooner than soon,
and you will bear witness their recurrence!
your old man moon will beg company again,
with his patient aspect beaming -
shimmering bright for your veneration -
soft, soft, so daubs the moon
soft as bluebells blooming -
wan on skin to softly swoon
e'er a dream's consuming.
oh, I vow this to you, my daughter!
you shall dance again on this shore,
bound and prance, my tiny ballerina!
you will twirl in the breath of evening, I am sure,
lit by the gangling glow, star-ward,
and tonight's lament will seem a silly song,
you shall see and be heartened, my little one!
and should I yet kiss that weep away, too?
ah, but joyous, those tears...
and as the heavens themselves,
and the best born of a father's heart,
how immeasurable their number!
oh, my darling, precious child!
Wordsmith's Veneration...
Aye willy nilly understate (trying 2)
tantalize, hypnotize, galvanize...
with "FAKE" trumpeting
spellbinding, rambling, quivering...
intoxicating, hallucinating, gyrating,
stop to take a breather...
English Language vocabulary, a
fascination, intoxication, provocation...
upon me ocular, neurological, mental...
faculties of this nattering nabob
from outer limits of twilight zone
i.e. literary krazy Jewish jabberwocky
issuing haphazard global toll till
fallout exacting deserved damn
cratering nascent (inchoate) career
digitally/electronically bi:
ne'er re: carpet bombing
away upon modus operandi, sans
sesquipedalian shrapnel strafes wrought
realization literary scaffolding
complex edifice thought
out in mind of yours truly,
not popularly sought
opportunity to experience
rush of excitement,
asper choice winner equals naught
inexorable effort to cobble innovative
linkedin words disappointment fraught
submissions witness polite declinations
attesting, lamenting, regarding poetic
expansive glommed language, unlikely
success tubby brought
adulation, commendation, enunciation...
fades into afterthought.
Ablest adept adroit aficionado
applauded aspiring authors accorded
absolute badge because
brevity brews brilliant burnished
bravado bubbling budding bulwark
captivatingly collates, communicates,
constitutes conveys avast literary
Grand Canyon chiseled, sans scribe's
Colorado devoid, asper driven desperado
contrariwise, through prevalent
persistent pinterest proclivity,
plus plethora pronounced propensity
resoundingly regaling readers
re: raffish ridiculous rumination
renders endeavor incommunicado
diligent doggedness ironically -
dampens dueling dynamic dud
dutifully dramatically diminishing
divine dream deemed darling
distinguished doodling I sip
prose poe hit tick drafter
equally or exceeding
prospects envisioning El Dorado,
thus this Neanderthal sites his lumbering
lugubrious trademark, an
immediate attribute sensing
missive heading directly
to Davy Jones locker
dead reckoning deep virtual
waters of cyber sea!
Four foot ten, and yet you make my pulse rise,
my weakness is I love the petite size.
But height's incidental, when it comes to
my veneration and worship of you.
You're a genuine Kewpie-doll cutie,
possessing an innate idyllic beauty.
When we met by that weeping willow tree,
a fledgling Empath, you felt drawn to me.
Your aura shone so bright; I had to smile,
for my fantasies seemed so juvenile.
And lamenting the briefness of the hours
I lay supine amidst summer’s flowers.
An alluring angel, you’re pure of heart,
a splendiferous sculpture, beyond art.
A Goddess, to whom I’ll always be true,
I don't know why you love me, but you do.
we did not Dye in vain!
from “songs of the sea snails”
though i’m just a slimy crawler,
my lineage is proud:
my forebears gave their lives
(oh, let the trumps blare loud!)
so purple-mantled Royals
might stand out in a crowd.
i salute you, fellow loyals,
who labor without scruple
as your incomes fall
while deficits quadruple
to swaddle unjust Lords
in bright imperial purple!
Originally published by The American Dissident
Notes: In ancient times the purple dye produced from the secretions of purpura mollusks (sea snails) was known as “Tyrian purple,” “royal purple” and “imperial purple.” This dye was greatly prized in antiquity and was very expensive according to the historian Theopompus: “Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver at Colophon.” Thus, purple-dyed fabrics became status symbols, and laws often prevented commoners from possessing them. The production of Tyrian purple was tightly controlled in Byzantium, where the imperial court restricted its use to the coloring of imperial silks. A child born to the reigning emperor was literally porphyrogenitos ("born to the purple") because the imperial birthing apartment was walled in porphyry, a purple-hued rock, and draped with purple silks. Royal babies were swaddled in purple; we know this because the iconodules, who disagreed with the emperor Constantine about the veneration of images, accused him of defecating on his imperial purple swaddling clothes!