Long Waylay Poems
Long Waylay Poems. Below are the most popular long Waylay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waylay poems by poem length and keyword.
But fiction you are, our Juliet, unborn,
mere humans find love so hard to portray,
thus leading many to their death, astray,
fear not a Romeo is born each day.
Childless children be not to death forsworn.
Why leave the bloom of youth in this dark way?
To these false examples swear not, allay ...
these foolish gestures and stay unmourned.
What care true love for false sacrifice's knife
or petal poisons made by perverse form,
live and brave the days with courage cajoled.
Oh, waylay the cowards path, leave your grief,
for grief will come to all within life's storm;
live a full life linger for life is gold.
At the dextrous flick of a pliant switch,
or some hue laden buoyant platform,
building sturdy grey grain bridges,
thin veil barren vacuum putative,
in a distant introverted wingspan,
yearning heart at the kernel of a handset,
shrink-wrap diaspora our intrinsic zeitgeist,
contact list on three dimension video,
in situ variegated infinite topic,
profound menu of cerebral dichotomy,
intimate engagement squeezes firm,
the lachrymose event within,
cognisant of prying web snoop,
on screen shadow world doubter,
secret anguish at forlorn tap,
proxy palm of hand palliative,
fingers jitter in composition panel,
pathos rapt in emoji display font,
deep ink well wiki tiered option link,
faint blue highlight access patch,
to master virtual mind concepts,
Jack-O-Lantern vapour a viral mask,
bogus face to face enchantment?
facile glib judgement I’d eschew,
labyrinthine waylay self-induced,
broad deep life question digital,
pop up connoisseur glossary,
perception at the press of a button,
in the eyes of the shrill yet genuine flock,
plus and minus fact sheet,
an overtopping wavelength,
how impoverished and lonely,
our dialogue would be,
this world would sink into,
even graver crass detachment,
without the many, many positives,
our smart devices regularly bring
My heart submitted to no one,
A completion of self with another was a fight to shame a proud mother
And still as the waves crash against the rocks,
You sway against me, push upon me- rough and waylay
My rough edges are flattened by the fire of your foam
Intriguing droplets- molecules of mental, murderous muse
I scream inside, delighted--affrighted, by your hearteous sight
Numbing the tingles that used to tantalize my mind
And still, I held on to what I was made for
To push away, to shy away, to stay...and to adore
A companion with no dominion upon a wafted shore
The sun often beats heavily on me when your tides are low
It is as if the love you so passionately offer is all for show
Only to descend into the sands of "NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE"
I bid a strong goodbye to the hardened, rough surface of my bind
It is time you see my smoother sides-- where the sun sets straight behind
For though you were rough against me and over me still...
Your calmer tides have scorched my pride and mellow-drained my will
My heart submitted to no one
Not even to God
Still in past tense do I blame the one and only sun
The sun that beat on me day by day with passion in its rays
Sets behind and still I'm blind to the hope of better days...
Exodus
From a distant hill far away
Shadowed off by a monstrous cloud stormy
Lay signs and sighs
From an alley tucked away
Sheltered off by ghostly shades of moaning moon
Flogs chorus a hollow song in a fog
The twinkling mirage of sand dunes beyond the blues spells
Or lay germs of elusive hope
There is a staged dirge replay in chorus
Whose devotees retain a moody gear?
For there lay labyrinths in the highway of heaven
The steaming streaming parties part ways
In laughter and confusion
In a land beyond x-roads
Lay a mused king,
Whose utter satisfaction is a maze
Like a stone cast into dead waters
So are the rumbling and mumbling and bubbling of parties
It is a night of distress for the king in haven
Whose subjects burrow and wallow in dirt like swine
In attempts dire dare the life that slides
In such a land infested with giants like Canaan
Whose firely tongues cast chunks of jargons to the agitated-
masses
Here they dismiss great talk for amusements
For they have no time unearth play art
A selfish motif fed
In such a country
The king waylay his subjects in slumbered mind
Dozing off drowsily in a world free of cares
As they wander and wonder
Of what a tamed and learned friend and king
The king’s haven is heaven
And here hell below lay no mercy for masses
Lost in a woody distant hilly yonder
Are subjects scattered like ants in a stormy rainy night
The king long lives in heaven
The exodus to Canaan!
IDEA TRAPPERS
I take a semblance of a hen
A hen conceives an egg
And brings forth an egg
The conditions have to be right
Or else there could never be eggs or hens
If that be the end of a story
Even so
The hen after the pain of delivery
The hen does brood the eggs
In hunger and thirst
In patience and focus
And the fullness of time brings forth a son
Sons of chicken many stroll
Or else the story isn’t ending either
This analogy of an egg
Did come trotting in mine heart
That many a times
Elusive ideas do flicker
So does such an idea distantly faintly seem
Or else a trap of revelation waylay
As a bird afore a snare beckoning
A bird in a tinge
A forebode of a danger drifting
Looking this way and that way
And off it takes off
Even ideas too are wingy and windy
Else the story is being told
A good grasp of an idea is ideal indeed
Ideal for a capture embrace
Without grey
This is metaphorical
Hen brood eggs
And as so
An idea has to be conceived first
An idea has to be developed first
In ideal conditions
A seed will germinate
It will sprout and spur
The afore conditions is a pointer
To the futuristic vitality of a seed
And generations, perhaps
Capacity is a function of preparation
Science has it – nature abhors vacuum
And ideas to be generational
Have to face test of time
And as aforementioned
This is the said brooding of an egg by a hen
And many days fleet
In thirst and hunger
Implying determined sacrifice
For a good many
Having skipped a vital phase as it is
Seclusion it is
Or quietness let’s say
Find themselves enmeshed in quagmire
Dire frustration and loss of direction
And speeding drags the victim deeper afar
In the mire of doubts and apathy
When good ideas fall in ideal soils
Is there assurance of a generation to ensue
And vast forest there lay
And many chicken and hens perhaps…
Words walk across the day
Lighting my path and way
Coloring me in hues to convey
The joy my laughter does betray
Words are whispered as I pray
Lifting spirits when they’re gray
Reminding me I’ve been led astray
By the verses and visions I portray
Words breathe hope into all I say
Believing that what comes is a ray
Caressing my thoughts with a bouquet
Written on my life in statutes to obey
Words dance through my soul to relay
Love that lives within where I downplay
All the inspirations in my heart’s mainstay
Poetry alive with wonders inside on display
Words enchant my mind so that they outweigh
All the promises of a thought which does waylay
The songs of faith that come when my essay
Reveals a compassion that comes to life today
Words remind my soul to give away
The love I have inside so it won’t decay
From never being given to those who pay
In kindness and joy that is there to stay
Words desire to be given away
To hearts who always pray
For God’s will and His way
In a life who worships everyday
Your Best Monorhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
August 15, 2021
The Rodents’ Bane
Sphynx cats
jinx rats
A Most Unlikely Scenario
Shorthairs
court bears
Cat Catalogers
Shorthairs
sort wares
When Cats Go Formal
Bombay
Prom Day
Tranquil Lost Feline
Calm stray
Bombay
Detain the Cat
Waylay
Bombay
What Gangsta Cats Do
Rag Dolls
Snag Molls
A Cat Oration
Birman
Sermon
The Howling Sensations
*Main Coons
Feign tunes
Wet Mongrel Cat
Soggy
moggy
Sept. 15, 2022
for a Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
*Note: This is name for a strong, large longhaired cat that is also very sweet. Maybe it's only known about in the USA??
Torrid sunshine blisters reign on pavement,
that colour coded coffee stain slipway,
bearer of insole-laden footwear,
open source channel for glib hot air calculus from starchy social climber, stock market drivel flies off tongue,
strolling human morph blasé with pin pad digit as foundation.
Monumental science, deep seat hi tech driver,
gigabyte trencherman data daze diet.
Brain spur gourmet chew astride.
Former high school swot an Eiffel Tower skyline ace thrust upon a thrill weaver gold rush,
never found but one can always dream.
YouTube zeitgeist earthling
has this inner sense of being from another planet,
this quaint fast lane time zone voyageur.
Like house trained pets they watch their owner grudgingly abandon sham control.
Wafer thin leash a scrimshaw ornament.
The plot thickens but somehow comes undone,
bit part player yearns holistically for untangled bits with interlocking act,
in depth scene dialogue now bill topper if only it would last.
They long for blue flag coast escape,
homely hide out guest house fringe found loitering perniciously or otherwise.
Birdhouse green leaf copycat
assembly for well intentioned like minds that rarely think alike unless it suits.
Caught between ephemeral impasse and amber moon orb dalliance, their noble quest waylay but an out of date signage in urgent need of reinvention.
In my deaf and time-closeted
pockets unpack pockets,
string bags hang under the closed eyes
of all-seeing watchers.
Eulogies for the living
are etched on wet lips and kitchen towels.
Owls as mute as hollow urns
turn to flute their mournful why, what,
and who’s.
The edge of IF, is most hard to see;
‘if’ is a lobster pot full of moonlight
woven to waylay and trap the long drowned.
Gutters coughing in a midnight summer
these glad me not,
yet are kept like the sly smiles of devilish women.
In my book of lies
there are truths still worth distorting,
times killed by a compulsive retelling,
fields plowed over too long
where the dead are uncovered
only to dance again on their own graves.
The drunken gallimaufry of head-games
left unfinished
pace back and forth,
yet here I am, the one person,
still blinking my way through a black-light sky,
while majestic wings hover over
to grab me up;
yes let them come,
for all glad gods have wings.
In the event of that morning
The allures of the luring lulling yellows rays
A caress of the beam that lit lucid
I was not another day
So it was in a ponder and wonder
A day dragged into a trap of make
Such a rare feel it was
A faint distant thought did flicker
A nag?
A tickle?
Piercing prod mind wade
It came like a trod trotting horse invade conquer
A rare weird thought did deem
Triggered into a stagger
Breaking abruptly as it had started
It was the garment touch feelin’
And that what I was thinking then
A friend like a garment can be
And so in the feel woolly wholly perhaps
Or like a lulling sun beam when sky is yellow
Whichever that rides toll rule
In a muse like a deem
Let loose flood existent domain maim
That a friend is only but a friend in rule
And if that the footprint consistent pasted
Somewhere on a bough
Or a pretence of an Isenberg atop
The vision of an eagle fix in time stream in replay
There below waylay
a track of moments and events rehearse intent
Many paths culminating into one
A mouth of a river a hub so say
Here like one on a bough bow lay
There are a million and one clips in play
Atop this anthill is a diversion into me
An intermittent printing on this plane of being
Comes to me prints of history
Coming into me
I am coming into my self
All this point to me the past in making
The bricks in time lay
Not in haste retrieve past memoirs cherish
But a muse in nostalgia marvel
The life that is and becoming...