Long Vogue Poems
Long Vogue Poems. Below are the most popular long Vogue by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vogue poems by poem length and keyword.
In the beginning were lustrous flowers
Teeming in noon and nocturnal bowers;
And first blush sunrise on bright blue sky,
And the dreaming groves set to fructify.
In the beginning was the joy of living,
When nature's bounty was always giving;
And the nights were full of stars,
And a much clearer view of Mars.
In the beginning were the rites,
Of brighter days and darker nights;
When all of nature was so rogue,
And abundant blossoms were in vogue!
In the beginning God had a plan
To oversee the destiny of every human,
And Adam and Eve began our family tree--
A fair walk into all eternity!
In the beginning there was song--
Birds sang the whole day long!
And exotic nature free and wild,
The senses were constantly beguiled!
In the beginning magic was there;
In the beginning, vanity fair!
In the beginning, light from above;
In the beginning, there was love!
How fast time has fled in limitless wingspan
How months and years have merged into eons
Bringing such changes, so awesome and spectacular
I have come swinging open the iron gates
Of the Netherworld where I have been asleep
For over the last four centuries from now
From my prolonged slumber, I am just awake
With my memory intact as in the days
I walked the London streets on my way to Globe theatre
And roamed through the streets of Stratford on Avon
Here, I stand stunned like a Rip wan winkle
Wistfully staring at a world so strange
Wondering how in place of shacks, skyscrapers stand!
How the serene villages into bustling habitats made!
How the frilled frocks into jeans and shirts changed!
Seeing the changes that have come over now
I can only remain perplexed and “tongue tied”,
An expression I used long time back, but still in vogue
Happy I am to revisit the literate of the world
Especially members of my own clan;
My friends of Poetry Soup who wield their pen
To see words are latticed like filmy cobwebs
In diverse poetic forms, on themes and subjects varied
And in rhyming sonnets, my favorite poetic form
Though I stand in a remote and distant tract of time
So happy you still remember me and hail me as an immortal bard
And you name the young lovers- 'Romeo and Juliet'
And write on their amorous romance in honeyed rhyme
You call selfish and cunning people as ‘Iago’
And exclaim on being betrayed- “You too Brutus”
When you are confronted with problems insurmountable
Like Hamlet, you ask the million-dollar question-
“To be or not to be”
My friends, this is my parting words to you
You may live by fame as I do
Through verse, your name you eternalize!
When dead and in solitary vaults you lie
May your verses ring clear in umpteen hearts
And produce echoes that time cannot stifle.
Jan. 13.2023
~Placed First~
Shakespeare in 2023 Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Isis was a major goddess of Ancient Egypt you know
She resurrected her brother and husband from down below
Osiris and she produced a son, Horus, she guarded with her life.
She was a marvelous sister, terrific mother, the ultimate wife.
Isis was requested for funerals, and helped the dead enter the afterlife.
She was conjured up in spells asking for help when others had strife.
Frequented by Nubians as well as Egyptians was her temple Philae.
Her magical powers were known by many and from countries far away.
Isis was a major influence when her popularity was at a peak.
Eventually Christianity came into vogue, the “religion of the week”.
Christianity stayed, but some think Isis had an influence on it too.
She was prominent in the ancient texts, and worshipped by quite a few.
NOVELTIES
by Thomas Campion
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their whores for exotic positions.
This is my translation of a Latin epigram by the English poet Thomas Campion. In Campion’s era some English poets continued to write poems in Latin and/or Greek. For instance, John Milton and Andrew Marvell wrote poems in Latin, while Shakespeare was criticized by Ben Jonson, if I remember things correctly, for having “little” Greek and Latin.
Not being “versed” in the senior languages was seen as a deficiency in literary circles back then. Shakespeare was called an “upstart crow” for daring to write “litter-chure” without a proper university degree. How could he properly quote the ancients if he couldn’t read them in their original languages? The Bard of Avon was doomed to failure and obscurity … or perhaps not, since the English language was finally in vogue in England (where for centuries English kings had been unable to read, write or even speak the mother tongue, preferring French, Latin and Greek).
My title is a bit of a pun, because novels were new to the world when they first arrived, and were thus considered by the literary elites to be “novelties” not on par with more serious verse plays. Some of the more popular early novels were “subversive” (pardon the pun) explorations of sexual naughtiness, through characters like Tom Jones, Moll Flanders, et al.
Campion probably didn’t have such campy (enough with the puns, already!) novels in mind when he wrote his epigram, since the more titillating (cease! desist!) ones had yet to arrive. But perhaps he would prove to be a “profit” (I’m udderly hopeless!).
Keywords/Tags: Campion, Latin, translation, exotic, exoticism, epigram, novels, novelties, book, books, booksellers, publishers, write, writing, author, authors, poet, poets, poetry, poems, pimps, whores, prostitutes, prostitution, exotic, positions, extended metaphor
Woman in Chains
Inner child blinks back tears through the cheval glass
At a bruised reflection staring back,
Battered by the hand of perfection,
Wearing chains in glimmering pearls deception,
Beauty and the beast - beauty now turned beast -
Though in the grip of vogue,
Restrained designs fettering creativity,
Beneath the veneer of outlandish style,
Wears hand-me-downs;
Wounded dove, kissed with a rose from the mist
Gasping on the runway of perfection
Beneath the blazing sun of cutting tongues
Behind made up faces,
Disappears into a chalice -fiery crucible -
Of coveted, borrowed, chains –
A dark kaleidoscope of shifting shapes and sizes -
Of stolen sublime – esteem devoured – ravished -
In runway parades of opaque flawless delusion
Skin hanging from a bony dress frame
Of starving wings scarred by black veils of distortion
With the salt of conformity heaped onto tender wounds
Searing tender flesh reaching out
In manacles for models of the meticulous
Bound up in chains of unforgiven imperfection
Forged in expectation’s subtle abusing links
With parables of precise precision
Handmaid designed by faultless perfection unseen the in the reflection
Till, clothed in a sheath of a new creation,
Slips out of leg shackles, greased by grace,
The inner child in somersaults soars on wings re-stored.
About 30 million people suffer from Anorexia Nervosa – both women and men. It can be a fatal disease effecting heart, kidney and liver functions. It is most prevalent in teenagers and young women. Anorexia took the life of singer Karen Carpenter, ballerina Heidi Guenther and model Isabella Caro. Princess Diana suffered from Anorexia. The recovery rate is very low – about 20%. This is definitely the story of Beauty and the Beast.
8-26-20
Contest: Woman in chains
30 lines
Two hundred years ago,rules of behaviour did not
permit a free flow of conversation.Rooms were devoid of
cooling breezes and formal attire was in vogue giving
rise to a discreet code....using a fan.....
Love,our strongest passion afire
Once fanned,the embers of desire;
Half open,a sign,please wait for me,
Close to the left ear,an urgent plea-
Please,please wait for me.
Touched to full lips,an invite to kiss,
On a couch of imagined bliss;
Pressed shut to a cleavaged heart,this message
Let us never,ever part.
Fully open,slowly shut
Signalled a promise to be wed,
On which these courting expectations fed.
I make a cup of coffee, and bathe in its perfume
And add some chocolate cookies til my diet must resume
I pray the photographer doesn't see that I have gone food rogue
Cuz like he said, "Chubby chicks will never grace a page of Vogue."
I'm careful because my Chanel gown is white and never sold
In the kind of stores where I can shop, or any shop, I'm told
And very soon they'll call me back to set to vamp and pose
Hair perfectly coiffed, make-up en fleek and Louboutin on my toes!
"I've chipped a nail," I mumble and three stylists all jump
And while they're at it one applies some hairspray with a pump
A gorgeous man in best black tie approaches me and grins
"I am your partner for this shoot. Cheri, you are so THIN!"
He takes my hand and helps me up, I teeter on the heels
He holds me close and says he needs to take me for some meals.
He bends his face and parts his perfect lips to plant a kiss
But instead I feel a liquid spilling and wonder "What is this?"
Loud noises filter in my brain and break my daydream's hold
The liquid was my coffee spilled and sickeningly cold
I grab a paper towel to wipe it off my kitchen floor
But being nine months pregnant makes it hard to do, for sure.
I refocus on the noise I hear and realize it's my boys
Two-year-old triplets ready to trade a nap for toys.
I pass the hallway mirror, see my hair a mess, I'm round
Not the model from my dream, but it won't bring me down.
I walk into the boys' room and all three reach out to me
And the hugs and kisses given no French model could exceed
I love my boys, I love my life, even in a cheap stretch jean
But still and all, I did enjoy my lovely little daydream!
1/13/2017
Today, I climbed a high mountain.
Mountain where I shout my disapproval.
Disapproval of today’s social illnesses.
Illnesses shattering the life on earth.
Earth, our valuable mother.
Our kind mother’s mind’s unhappy today.
Today, days are red and prickly to dismay.
No walks but talks of wounds and worries.
Worries symbolizing contemporary sorrows.
Sorrows as the sun’s been sent off brightness.
Blazing conflicts for misery with societal evils.
Evils of acute and endless sticking on power.
Power of killing your people and feeling a doer.
Happy becoming the almighty guide.
For polygamy and alcohol abuse push wide.
Here and there dangle abuse and corruption.
Corruption and police harassment in evolution.
Harassment causing animosity and nausea.
Disorder, anarchy and negligence for criteria.
In media, tribalism and phobia en vogue.
Tribalism and ostracism feeding conflicts.
Wars predicting our fateful future in shifts.
The future’s now plunked in deep black darkness,
Slaughtering hope and causing death in a mess.
Death buries us all, and evil’s no more comedy.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
I wonder, if glass-winged venus of psalms,
Shed soft serenades on chirping bird's nest,
Would alpha centauri's edenic balms
Coat my saturn-sage skin with glacial crest?
Maybe, my turquoise-ink's tomb is ablaze,
In lazuline embers of universe,
Tracing fluorescence of rose on heart's phase,
As sycamores in midnight's metaverse
Moors of love echo, 'bonjour, heaven-blend",
Draped in opal peonies and mauve fog,
As hope-rings of gold, shine in healing's mend,
And I rise in starworld of fairy's vogue
I revolve around mermaid-moon's beacon,
For serendipity in mortal scars,
Like twilight's arc, in sunsets of saffron,
Embraced zenith, as an angelic star
I'm an earthling-ash of pearl's poesy,
Ephemeral as strokes of blushed bluesy.
one need not be cosmopolitan nor urbane
but like me just a common and simple fellow
whom this bumpkin t'would never be called vain
doing his level best to ride the gravy train
voicing sentiments in league like an ordinary swain
recounting how those forebears occupied a royal reign
composing this, that or the other anonymous quatrain
perhaps even adorning an irish pen name like o'shane
just one humble poet whose verse one might call plain
reaching to win the heart of this paramour in the main
taking an idyllic stroll along lover's lane
taking in silent subtle musings like some citizen kane
this common joe holding hands with his ordinary jane.