Long Weans Poems
Long Weans Poems. Below are the most popular long Weans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Weans poems by poem length and keyword.
Mindless the mission with visions unseen;
Open to wonder that transcends the pure;
Rest beyond tension the friction that weans;
Embrace the thunder that creates allure.
Time after time we hurl unsure wild complaints;
Reach within a whole that stumbles to show;
Urge ferments bold twirl in funny restrain;
Entice playful soul to dance swirling free flow.
Give zest sure blooming in growing grooming;
Rise to tact's venture that conspires within;
Invoke calm knowing in showing feeling;
Touch flavours texture as act puzzles win.
Bring your fond loving to lively motives;
Empower sure living with timely festive.
Leon Enriquez
24 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet.)
6 a.m
It is time to wake-
After being bludgeoned by sleep.
A quick brush
And a quick wash
Off to the bus-stop in a quick rush.
It’s another day
To work for a pay
Loose soap lather-
Sticking senselessly by the tip of the ear
And white Vaseline still to sink in the hair.
This life is a rush
Get late and get fired
No one cares if you are tired
Or couldn’t spare the time for a notch.
Brown suit,
Black trouser
Loosened zipper
Man! You are a walking sleeper.
We all filed-up
Looking like men heading for the concentration camp,
Yawning helplessly from an unfinished sleep.
This city life,
Is just a life of strife.
We hop on the bus,
So eager to seek solace in its confines.
Heads hanging loosely,
Snoring trumpets at its crescendo.
11 p.m
Free from the day’s toil
But held captive by Lagos traffic.
Sweating and panting from heat,
Squeezed like a crumpled note at the back seat.
Dinner on third-mainland Bridge,
A stick of gala and Asala*
With a bottle of water to quench the hunger.
It’s business time for the street urchins
From Iyana-oworo to the bridge that links Alapere,
They disguise as beggars-
Or hide in the shade of dark like scavengers
Watching out for victims to prey on.
The day weans itself away;
Broken down vehicles,
Long tankers stealing the lanes,
Pedestrians ignoring the bridge,
Hawkers shouting their wares,
Tanker horns blaring like hooting train.
Six to Eleven of our lives
Stolen by the struggle to survive.
Office pressure and less leisure,
Street madness and no cure.
Traffic Thieves,
Problematic Passengers,
Howling Hawkers,
And Lazy-ing LASMA**
All add to this insanity.
* A Yoruba dialect for Walnut
** LASMA reference to Traffic Officials of Lagos State
© Ayinla Muyideen Adeleke
Grouin up in Glesga wis nae mean feat
Pleyin in the back courts an dreepin the wass
Plouterin in puddles manky water sploshing aboot,
Searching in yon mucky middens fur treasure
Thrown oot by the families in the closes.
Fur a fitba a pile o rags weideh doon wi aw sorts o things
Or a tanner ba made tae test yer skills dribbling roon
Bricks, holes an buckets burnt through.
Some wi nae shin baries wis the thing
An naething caught except wee beasties in the hair.
Holy jumpers an maukit breeks like a uniform
Worn tae mark ye oot as livin in tenements raw.
Aye aww wis puir always skint fur buying scran
Except faither oan a Friday nicht at the boozers
Getting fu wi his pals forgettin the weans,
Crying at hame an when he came in mither
Wid aways get the blame .
Aye the weans o glesga wur a hardy breed,
All ways stervin an needin a feed,
That wisnae allus therr a feast wis a jeely piece.
When they grew an produced men o valour,
Or men o wealth an fauncy cars,
Ne,er forgot that they were a Glesga wean.
An open window frames a scene
Compelled obsession’s wistful sway
A metaphor imbues my dream
Entranced a moth, in porch lights gleam
Around it flits, a cruel ballet
An open window frames a scene
With you at night, the same routine
Your heart within a glass display
A metaphor imbues my dream
Unaware the faux flame's scheme
A driven urge the moth replays
An open window frames a scene
With fettered will and pull extreme
Your gravity of soul persuades
A metaphor imbues my dream
The glass I stroke as slumber weans
In crushing heat I fall away
An open window frames a scene
A metaphor imbues my dream
Surge swallows stress
Plunder proud press
Gripe glimpses guess
Feel foolish fuss
Bear blooming buzz
Pick pretty plus
Choice charms crafty
Poise pays plenty
Voice veils vainly
Veer vaulted vice
Shrewd sexy spice
Nymph naughty nice
Frenzy frames fool
Crazy comes cool
Plenty proofs pool
Lovely lines loom
Bright brilliance booms
Ripe rapture rooms
Crazy comes clean
Loud laughter leans
Wise wonder weans
Moist moments meet
Speak savvy street
Glamour grooms greet
Touch thrilling trade
Mind movements made
Grope grouchy grade
Live limpid laugh
Bring bumpy bluff
Sound simple stuff
Crazy cool comes
Set stuffy sums
Niche notions numb
Leon Enriquez
31 March 2016
Singapore
“Gaun an bile yer heid” he bawled oot,
As he stood in the middle o the cobbled street.
Tae nae yin in particular.
Did he vent his anger.
Fu as a whaulk he staggered and swayed
Wan pin rooted tae the graun,
Ither yin moved like a dervish,
Gaun naewhaur fast.
He should of been hame
Wi his wifie and weans
But naw he insisted
Wi a wee refreshment wi his pals.
Jist a hauf an a hauf an a wee blether
Pittin the world tae rights.
But man the craik was brill that nicht
Whit a pity it ended in a fecht.
Nothing though like the fecht
He wid huv when at home.
His wifie stood livid at the door
Tears a dripping ontae the floor
Weans moaning and bawling
Nae dinner again old mans supping fu.
Setterday nicht in Glasga toon
Lying sprawled an fu unner the moon,
©Andrew P McIntyre 2015-05-28.
Everything’s going down thanks to the tangerine clown
His cohorts blood sports “muppets” the collective noun
This lout every town does rout either drought or drown
Farce as the grass burns turns brown is so easy to frown
Naked truth everyone knows about Emperor’s new gown
Half baked common sense forsaked with his faked crown
Bereft at not deft sheer heft of non stop theft by top tier
Tries to smear races from other places & anyone que*r
Walk the plank every rank does spank cranks up a gear
It is clear this is the dystopian nadir the world does fear
Does appear the end’s near just jeer at all we hold dear
Bunkum as do strum our spectrum with their plectrum
Sneer at us out of their rectum.. but still no referendum
Fair dinkum is a nostrum atop the rostrum our panacea
Little wins that dampens the din of the mandarins sins
Society spins beaming grins replace steaming chagrins
Ignore the scheming as that’s how the dreaming begins
So let’s save the teens and free them from their screens
Let them see it’s not all about these mean online ravines
Prevent their descent as everyone does vent their spleens
Vanquish their anguish as do languish in internet latrines
Mother Nature has the sheens her kaleidoscopic canteens
Hypnotic colours she preens bathed & swathed in greens
Quixotic pleasure of leisurely stroll which your soul cleans
By any means chill your beans is a skill which’s in our genes
Shun despotic rhetoric be an envoy for joy of other cuisines
Weans ourselves out of the trough with our poetic vaccines
Exotic almost erotic scenes all feel like real kings & queens
So when that obscene tangerine clown again goes to town
Nature will be our saviour so come on do yourself a favour
So much free flavour to savour if you look up and not down
Baby blues bite
Worry weans write
Apt anxious angst
Bearing burst banks
Choice clusters chance
Daze dangles dance
Ends exploit etch
Feel frenzy fetch
Glimpse gloomy gaze
Hide heavy haze
Ire invokes ink
Jest jump starts jinx
Kind keeper knows
Live lavish low
Meet mangled mix
Note nimble next
Odd old obvious
Plead poignant pierce
Query ***** quest
Reap rowdy rest
See stormy sight
Treat troubles tight
Use umpteen urge
Vet vibrant verge
Wise words work well
eXplore eXcel
Yield yonder yes
Zip zooming zest
Taste touchy times
Peer pressure primes
Leon Enriquez
26 March 2018
Singapore