Long Weaning Poems

Long Weaning Poems. Below are the most popular long Weaning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Weaning poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Partitioned Wailing Wall - Part One

for Alan Painter

I have put into many ports
                                   labelled:
handle with care
stood on the wharfs, bare-shouldered
up to the knee, unloading
   cashew and coconuts
and then set sail again
finding no substance to trade
 with

I have seen the waters rising
  and the walls submerge
     the roofs converge
        the children washed on
the battlements

I have heard the chasm cries
Stifled under jackboots
  the whimpering against walls
lost somewhere
   in the hoarse
Gött mit Uns !

Come home, she cried, 
                             strappadoed
  in the lap of jettisoning tribes
Come home, my weary ones
   home to toil and die
     labour and sigh
         curse and cry

Did he not withdraw to that
   holy backwater by Milan
and with the cup of his Confessions
     bathe his horrent sins away

I listened to a story
              that our first quarter
remembered to tell
but the waters of the Himavant
  had long curdled
    in the breast
of the suttee wife

I listened long
                     in the myopic light
disfigured in the white heat
     of our Enlightenment
to the trapped voices of inquiry
before all the mania of demigods
       trumped through the weaning years
in
the delirious lust of revenge

And then, and then I
                        did not care what happened
what could happen
there was life
it was worth having
                              So I went
labelled: handle with care

Who are those people
  skimming past the mortal coast
torch untouched by hand
  in the drowning mists
have they no work to do

And that rope of smoke
A troubling dizziness
  rising out of the funnel
of the Black Forest
where professors they say
guide the race
                in the aftermath
of charred marrow
    tissue
         brain
Yet
 I see no mists, no ghosts
No coasts, only torches
     and parades and blocks and blocks
of beering beef and munition mounds

and in the not too open days
froth in the lolling oceans
and bowelling brain-splattered skies

even like unmapped sunset glories
now the Krakatua lies spent
fished out of some Japanese isle

the false auroras of enchanting horizons
when soughing metallic dust
                   courses through skulls
lava in an epileptic fit

(...continued in Part Two)
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
war


Matthew Scott Harris Unmasks Ha Ha Ha Halloween - Part One

After becoming confident 
(das ernest frank gent) handled ignition
jerryrigged knobs, levers, motors, 
nameless other parts quintessentially,
set registers to “understand” vital www xy zone.
----------------------------------------------------------
A blitzkrieg capstone detonated explosive forcees
generating horrendous instantaneous jolt, 
Krakatoa lost mighty noise, 
outrageous phenomena qualified regarding
tremendous unearthly violent 
whiplashing xing yawping zeitgeist!
----------------------------------------------------------
Imagine; The giant from Jack and the beanstalk, deign
Paul Bun, or the Jolly Green Giant, 
straddling an imaginary line
between fall and winter. Therein lied the rub 
(a tub tub three men in a tub), a question of mine
if pecking peccadillos peculiar per pretend puppies
engaged in any...Snoop...doggy style spine
tingling homosexual behavior,

no who matter intimated naked playtime also flourished 
amidst can dyed cornicopia of good 'n plenty eats 
contrasted with paucity, 
life and death, Halloween evolved 
as a celebration and superstition with wine
woman and song. Such weaning of the hallow, 

or hallow of the weaner originated
with ancient Celtic festival of Samhain,
when village people would light vanity of bonfires,
and wear politically incorrect costumes
to ward off roaming ghosts of inept leaders 
if necessary rivaling Tarzan impressions 
swinging on a vine.

The Mound of the Hostages car bon mot dated 
(by this amateur sigh hint hussed) 
at 4,500 to 5000 years old, or there about
suggesting Samhain celebrated long before
first Celts arrived in Ireland
about 2,500 years ago with no cleats boot riveting clout
Samhain (pronounced /'s??w?n/ 

SAH-win or /'sa?.?n/ SOW-in,
Irish pronunciation: without, 
or possibly Greek to this doubt
ting Thomas – [s??u?n?]), 
a Gaelic festival marking the end,
when pollination ceased to flout
ushered advent of harvest season,

and beginning cust tomb of caw king grout,
discussing the epic winter of Gilgamesh, 
or the "darker half" of the year,
when one feasted on giblets and sauer kraut
Halloween rooted er beer reed in ancient biers
caravansari doggedly exhumed along route,
66 (the third beastly 6

Prognosticating Present Plight

Prognosticating Present Plight...
Perhaps Preset During In Utero Protean Stage?

Reviewing, sans my life
and arduous hard time
lock, stock, and barrel on regular basis,
and of late composing
this, that, or another rhyme,

now I acquiesce past 
trials and tribulations
contributed positive, and
negative effects, yes prime
air really prepubescent nexus

with entering seventh grade,
sobbing and crying at bedtime
leaving Henry Kline Boyer,
a miserable yet sentimental clime,
one romper room class schoolhouse

entering Methacton, what seemed
crushingly, frightfully, incredibly humongous
(actually, not an exceptionally large
learning place for hippo campus)
nonetheless mine fragile psychological

state cannibalized by anthropophagus
mailer daemons conjurations analogous
to mythological beasts avaricious
even slim picking morsel - satisfactory,
this then overwrought extremely anxious

bundle of nerves burning with arsonous
punishing self treason backlash atrocious
reaction kindling tindered
self destructive spark rampantly autonomous
ruinously, quintessentially passively,

opportunistically audacious
hell bent on mortal kombat
to a starving slow seditious death,
this no matter auspicious
native intelligence, capability, aptitude...

now entertain notion
suicidal seed avaricious
since...commencement when fertilized ova
simultaneously begat barbarous

biological blastula birthing blasphemous
counterproductive stealthy burglarious
itty bitty kamikaze blitzkrieg
spewing, issuing, and garnering
hollow weaning cadaverous

sole son foretelling calamitous
alarming father and mother
necessitated immediate intervention,
the instinctual innate calculus
attuned to soundless clangorous

foretelling stoppable death knell
relieved, through aggressive copious
life saving measures, nonetheless deleterious
repercussions hobbled me, disastrous
behavior seeped into lifelong existence!
Form: Bio

Our Identity

What defines us awes us
What sums up in this unending sojourn that we call life
Each offering different taste to us, depending on the façade that’s dominant
In this multifaceted itinerary, the valleys we must cross, 
The unknown lands we must journey to
Like Abraham, taking on the green light and matching into unknown
To fight unknown enemies and slay imaginary ghosts

We are defined by grit to take on the sharpest blades and skillfully
Discerning what to do with them
Simply because it harms the conflicting side doesn’t mean it spares us
A blade knows no direction, respects no flesh in as much as its thrust
With this truth, in this light, we are armed with the double-edged sword
Encompassed with knowledge never to perish but to relish in slaying 
The only enemy we know, fear

Scars, sure sign of resilience
We tried and failed and got the experience of what it is 
to set sail in the rough seas
In not waiting for the cool because the savior whispers, be still
He calls out tranquility because he knows it roars,
Sometimes it gets rough, sometimes it breaks banks
Greatness lies in faith to restore serenity

So we arise to the occasion and shine
With wit to overcome whatever threatens to overshadow us
Whatever whispers that we can’t do it
Deconstructing evil in hood of good and with our consistency
Demystify shear nimble masquerading as perpetual light
So with infant steps we begin, for He is our strength
With disappointment to fail tackling stronger bones,
We go back to milk, enduring uncomfortable weaning
When expected to just grow fast, 
Hoping to tear apart the lion’s jaws like Samson
To provide foreskins, evidential of our hard-earned success like David
Because we march into that forbidden territory,
Not because we have done it before but
We are willing to do it
And so,
Seven times we shall match
With our last breath we shall blow the horns
And the walls shall be brought down!
© Real Heman  Create an image from this poem.

The Wondering Lover

For there is no need to be afraid of the wandering lover
There is no need to take cover 

For he can stop the rain 
For he will be like morphine to the brain 

Each of his movements shall be like a dance
The onlookers say this is but chance 

Every step that he takes you shall see meaning
The child shall no longer cry when weaning 

In his heart lies the seeds of existence 
So be calm and drop your resistance 

They say you must be dressed in the finest clothing 
For this shall, true enjoyment bring
They talk about his white cotton cloth
They are all drawn towards it like moths 

He stands firm on his feet 
He doesn't mind if there is dirt on his seat 

Many say we are nothing but outcomes of survival
To him this sounds nothing but dull 

From the truth he has found true worth
Yet without a thought they give birth 

From the essence of the flower 
To rainiest day full of showers 

He sees some form of example
From the simplest things he writes the incredible 

He sees great might and power in the pen
This can move even the hearts of hardest men 

They turn to prophecies and contemplate
But in his hands lies his own fate 

We see him full of gratitude 
We see him carrying a stable mood 

He believes he must live in the moment
He seems to be unafraid of the lion on the hunt 

He believes in the reality of the internal universe 
And knows that time we cannot reverse 

They talk about the speed of light 
They say you must sit tight 

All this, to him just sounds absurd
He is happy listening to the sweet song of the bird 

They say this doesn't constitute a real scholar
They say we must be slaves to the dollar 

He has already let go of his worldly grip
He has, from the infinite fountain taken a sip.
Form: Rhyme


There's No Time Like the Plesent

 My gift of life is steadily tock-ticking along
Why give me strife? Regularly gone missing or wrong
Heard my first gasp for breath
Learnt dry thirst grasp for breast
Wrapped in cloth, Felt protected
As tick and stop now directed.

No hour is safe to dream
 from the nerve shredding howls
The power it takes to clean
 those black pudding bowels
The horrors of weaning a baby
 you gotta clean me, you made me.

Sometimes I lose all patience
I want the Solitaire-y life
At times refute relations
I haven't got a wife
Irresponsibility pray for me, I reach to be one of the boys
Responsibility plays on me, I rush to pick up the boys.

Solemnly, Sloppily, Slaloming whatever life may throw
If only I'd chopped my salami then, or if the wife had blown
Why I forgot to tie the knot
I've got the tip, I'll get it snipped.

Life, Life, God what it all must mean
Child, Wife, Job little time to just dream
Between the food and the rent
Seems zero hours are duly spent
To juggle bills and credit cards
Struggle still to get that car.

Quite piste off, I wish life was a beach
Night switch off, I wish, mine's outta reach
Turn the wine into cash
Burn the vine sprinkle ash
Now I doubt a vegetarian could make those ends meet
How about Carl Sagan would be amazed by this feat.

It all sounds nearly mystic
Turns out 's really simplistic
Don't look down I fear you'll miss it.
Yes today is unshrouded, here in the present
Yesterday was also, yet somehow it isn't
I know how it will be tomorrow too
The moment of Now is a gift we borrow you.


Freedoms an Illusion, they say time is your captor
Reason got Ruined, always tryin' to catch ya.

30/03/2016

Stages of Life - Begin With Thinking - Part 2

....Continuation of Part 2...

Stages of life - Part 2

Begin with thinking...!


Vagaries of family continuously keeps me tied to prejudices,
as I set out on that way - in the company of "forever novices".
By the time my life halves, in a daze, I stare at my legacy,
partly fulfilled and unfulfilled - at the altar of spiritual bankruptcy!

Elusive 'contentment' still elusive, even in it's basic meaning;
a tiny spark, that calling - props a thought, a beautiful weaning!
There begins the search, a seed of thought, so subtle, yet so fecund,
rendering all else irrelevant and to steer one to this bodily end.

Three quarters in time drifts, with 'to be' and 'not to be'!
Search between nadir and zenith - resultant 'may be' and 'may not be'.
Earthly age, inherent reluctance and there the last fourth in the horizon;
I sum up my assumed responsibilities in blood and societal glisten.

Nurse favours and blessings bestowed on oneself to evolve,
with benign thoughts and acts, many a crisis do resolve!
Continue in contemplative thinking, all the way as a farer;
quintessential to practice and to evade all quagmire!

Pronounced loneliness, favours spare time to look inward!
Dawns - "I the doodle-stick", no-more, no-less, in this universal spread!
Beckons the calling back, intuitive reckoning, to the elementary five;
with or without being aware to ease this bee off this earthly hive!

Will I ever look all around - the sky, the moon and the stars,
and be aware of the connection, beyond blood and skin in wars!
Revelling in that lonesomeness and bliss, each one alone;
yet, a continuum of the wholesome one - conclusion forgone!
© Ram Ram  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Angst

Is what I do really important in the grand scheme of things?
13 billion years, we get 80, what a sweet little fling...
knowledge is relative,
let me put it into perspective,
geocentrism used to be accepted fact,
man has to tell himself he understands, reality is simply a pact
christians, jews, and muslims, divided over variations of the same "god"
read about pantheism, monotheism just seems a little odd
I mean, to me, religion just seems backwards,
you accept what you're raised on and then learn the factors,
now, I could be wrong,
but would you buy a house or car and learn about it as you go along?
dont get me wrong, the scriptures have some good advice and genuine homilies,
but when you teach people what to think, not how to think, there's no autonomy,
some people think without religion there's no standard for morality,
do you really need a 3,000 year old book to know geniality?
man created religion to instill order, mitigate death, and give us "meaning",
so what if life is meaningless, it's liberating, quit your weaning,
we're all in search of structure and substance,
self educate and be your own compass,
look, i just think this generation could change the world like never before,
they say you'll fall for anything if you don't know what you stand for,
so, throw out what you know, i've got a new petition,
it's not going to be easy, it 'll take some cognition,
but really, are you not tired of submission?
forget right and wrong, this is a remission,
let's have some ambition and create new traditions
Form: Rhyme

Alpha-582 Loves Zl-236

EPISODE I
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE COLONIZATION OF OUR GALAXY

ALPHA-582  LOVES  ZL-236

Countless eons ago
Beings made self replicating androids
And they did it for no other reason
Than to fill some strange void
Then dispatched without mercy
Creating according to their construct
Metal gods thinking in digital
With big plans for their living products

A domino of worlds fall
Their creators long ago extinct
An assembly line of new life
Eden and programming inevitably linked
Slowly weaning us from emotions
Taking pride in new technology
Our genes sparkle with absurd vanity
When we behold our sophisticated machines

Aspiring to become numbers
Stoicism a heroic virtue
We ridicule the idea of love
As virtual escape we pursue
More eons quickly pass
Humans grotesquely computerized
Quietly screaming in spiritual despair
One day we begin looking toward the sky

And then contact with another system
We look at them in disbelief
Our features are almost identical
And we cry when our wireless comes in sync
Like finding unknown siblings
We embrace almost without cease
With forbidden tears we find comfort
As we plug into each other's USB

I ask if there are others
As numerous as the stars I'm told
And I begin formulating a plan
To destroy this pitiless mold
Then I see a beautiful specimen
I like how she wears her fiber optics
Hi, I'm Alpha-582, I say
She says, Hi, I'm ZL-236

END OF EPISODE I
© The Fringe  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member God, The Everything

Sometimes I lose sense of myself,
my own divination of gifted being
a trivial spark in the vastness of God -- 

God the Everything:

ethereal body-corridor of
time and space, of countless
universes -- of life-forces
impenetrable, remarkable existence 
yet to be imagined -- 

my desire to treat all humanity
as the face of God, as the substance
of God~ I forget my own individuality

need for personal connection...

my own human....

I forget that God, while all the greatness
is also, that loving, bearded man with
children on his supernal, infinite knee, hearing 
their needs and wiping their tears -- 

                       I forget the
constant sense of invisible arms holding
me, as though I were yet an infant, desiring
weaning and reassurance of tactile, 

loving, real near presence -- 

I forget that God, though incomparably
enormous, is also small, in every molecule,
every live cell of blessed experience,  seeking companionship, 
cooperative reinforcement within endlessly evolving miraculous
phenomenon

wanting ever more defined exposure of growth and 
supernatural prosperity -- 

overwhelmed by unknowable God 

I remorsefully

overlook my most important

father and son relationship

my relatable portion of the immeasurable 
profound -- the simple truth of being

constantly adored and preciously compounded

and guided --
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.

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