Long Well versed Poems
Long Well versed Poems. Below are the most popular long Well versed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Well versed poems by poem length and keyword.
Greatness was his to inherit
Breaking free from shells of gold
Soaring on wings of diamond so bold
Across the vast and rich lands of Mali.
Well-versed in the culture of his motherland
A gem in trade, a leader in heart
Mansa Musa, a beacon of strength
Guiding Mali to heights untold.
From a young age, like the morning sun
He was ready to rule with grace and wisdom
A king born to lead, to inspire
Musa’s legacy, a story that defies time.
The roads from Cairo to Mecca know a man better
Of wealth and influence, unmatched and grand
Like Freetown’s view from Mount Auroel
His gold and glory will forever be told.
A kind-hearted king, generous and wise
Investing in making people better
Offering food, gold, and shelter
His story will forever grace the ages.
Thinking myself
well versed in career and well placed in society
exploring multi - channels,
accessing success ,
being well known as a successful persona !
But in core of heart I am recluse.
Self assessment puts me in closed cocoon,
solely hidden out of sight of outer world.
Now It seems I am completely misfit
in continuous flow of present human life.
This is not my river where I am swimming !
This is not my place where I am staying !
This is not my field, where I’m working.
Me guite ignorant, bewildered,
unable to find way out.
I need cessation
for contemplation.
I didn’t see Alhaji Sule, the big contractor
Though he is a sponsor with a huge stake in government.
I didn’t see Chief Ade the financial banker
Though he is well-versed on political palavers.
I didn’t see Mazi Eze the business mogul
He’s engrossed in his profits of sales and remains apolitical.
I didn’t see Sir Osahon the civil servant
I wonder, but guess he knows he’ll always have his pay.
I’ve hardly seen his Excellency, not any of his children
But I can see all his servants and some of his relatives.
I see market women, okada riders, menial labourers
Poor farmers, job seekers and beggars, superintend by
Ad-hoc staffs, police, army, party agents, observers
Thugs, cultists, pickpockets and party chiefs, all…
All under the biting sun from sunrise to sunset.
From the tussling crowd I hear and see unending
Wails of distress, curses, cracking of limbs and crimson
Muffled by fugacious shouts of political victories
When from behind the curtain five dollars less swaps for a vote.
Stale politicians and their eating party chiefs preside over
The poverty, ignorance and despair of the masses who shall
Again be left in the cyclic vortexes of socio-economic woes.
In the coming years, they’ll, in public, keep licking their wounds
While the politicians, in private, will have and eat their cakes!
Both Mom and Dad felt so very ill at ease.
Impotent when it came to discussing the birds and bees.
Reading up on how to handle a subject so delicate,
Determined to provide Johnny with knowledge accurate!
Sit down, there's something we need to discuss with you,
And it ain't your acne - it's a topic about which you have no clue.
Nothing will be held back - we're laying everything on the table.
Don't be shy about asking questions and join in if you're able.
Because this matter is so important we want you to be well versed.
Endure with us because we want you to hear it from us first.
Excuse me Mom and Dad, save your breath, 'cause you see,
Sex education was thoroughly discussed in school during my puberty!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 10 in Carol Brown's "The Birds and Bees" Contest - September 2010
He came to her under the light of the moon
promising her riches & plenty
His devilish smile enchanted her to the point
of elation
but she didn't understand what it took to be
his
Soon she'd realize what it is she had to give
in exchange for his favor
He initiated their first kiss & this sent her spiraling
into the underworld
as she savored the flavor of his lips
Her moist lips raged with passion & longing as she
begged for more of his love language
in French
Her mind was fried as the sparks flickered to
flame
& became so uncontrollable that she couldn't
remember her name
She was gone & so immersed that she hadn't
realized how quickly she'd been cursed
He was so well versed in this game that was in
his nature to play
that he didn't need to rehearse
She was one of many pieces on a checkered board
in his colorful life that
came to life on nights like these
She ate from his tree & seen that it was good which
opened her eyes to things only
the wise could see
She was now in a dream of which she could
never wake
& as fate would have it her soul became
his forever
They were bound together so tightly that she lost
her identity the more her affinity grew
He consumed her whole while his fruitful seeds
took root in a place where her soul
once was
He was now her drug & she his fiend on an eternal
high that extended beyond the skies &
below the grounds of earthly existence
As the sun rose she came to understand what it
meant to be engulfed by his fiery
flame & was addicted to
his infinitely devilish game
There once was a math teacher
well-versed in singing
"We have many ways to learn."
Eyes
and ears,
Touch
and feelings,
Tastes
and smells
each looking for redundant
polypathic messages
from polyphonic Others.
The math teacher
was conservative
about over-generalizing
from her own deep learning experience.
She did not trust
in only her way
to find resolution,
theoretical
or musical,
to questions
paradoxically noted
predicting answers
and harmonic responses,
causes intending nonhypothetically resonant/dissonant effects,
trusted experience,
If "x" processes of seeing
and hearing,
touching
and feeling,
tasting
and smelling are followed
faithfully,
with good faith humor,
and good humored compassion,
then a consensual win/win responsive passion
predictably follows.
In reason's end,
two plus two quarter notes
will always equal
a measure of fractal four,
regardless of left brain dominant vision
or right brain prominent felt experience
touched and octavely sensed,
or untouched and ignored,
neglected,
non-emergent unconsciousness,
entropic,
apathetic,
non-empathic.
But,
ZeroZone plus ZeroZone,
like ZeroZone times ZeroZone,
always invites OneEarth Justice
for her students right brain prominent,
While Zero spatial-plus,
or temporal-times, Zero is,
at not-not best,
double-binding positive Zero freedom
for those left-brain prominent
who see more powerfully
than mentally hearing
and spirit-embodied feeling
sacred light of trust,
interdependence,
unity, not so much metric uniformity,
healthy democratic multicultural flow
naturally swaying left
and spiritually ebbing right
health/wealth bicameral values
Whether metric
or numerologically versed
or ecological
or theological
or musical
or social-psychological
or neurological
or politically empowering
or economic Win/Win enlightening
or compassionate communication theory
or restoring EarthJustice
or resilient Permaculture Design
with polyculturally robust answers,
outcomes,
resolutions,
nutritional designs
for self-care
ZeroZone resilience
Whether seen and heard,
or touched and felt,
or tasted and smelled,
or all of Earth's sacred Above.
My round white anti-depressants
were trying their faithful best
to listen to my ecofeminist
wise old woman
gardening neighbor,
pulling aggressive weeds
Sharing with me
her morning meditation reflection
immediately after entering dawning eyes
and before exiting her dreamy
comforting
fertile bed
Her opening
and excavating self-invitation
to choose body health nutrition
and mind happiness nurturing
which are snugly associated
for her
like peas and carrots
remembering well-versed voice
intention
But,
not so much for me,
now able to choose health
almost every dawning day
and dusky night
but still struggling
for post-traumatic omnipotence
to thrive toward happiness
by empowered choice,
even if not enlightened voice
articulating all the many thankful ways
remembering well-cultivated rejoice.
What my gardening neighbor
and I speak of
feels like my dull
and darkly present
spatial stuck unchanging place
Which she
unlike me
can also remember
as having evolved through time
from current EarthTribe regenerating days
becoming nurturing seasons
within each annual surviving incarnation
Reversing on back toward warm
welcoming first dawn light's
empowering MotherEarth's
thriving
flowing
flowering invitation
to each day's rebirth.
cracked but not entirely broken
the metaphor slowly personified
candle wax dripped from the wick
musk varnished tentative seepage
in tea leaves she trusted for courage
porcelain sheltered hope and destiny
well versed in disaster and belief
she held a cupful of promises
trials tribulations infusions
life had been a precarious pendulum
thresholds turning points stagnation
when the fulcrum captured returns
a procession of mindful surrender
shared patina of defeat and resolve
three Tarot cards embraced her fate
the Hangman depicted her past
turned into a Hermit of shadows
predicted the future in Judgement
faith in the oracle sustained her soul
her weary bones creaked and rattled to
sounds of wisdom and imminent doubts
cracks are where the light gets in
and focus grows under pressure
when kindness appears on the scene
04th July 2020
"But love's a malady without a cure."
-"John Dryden"
Forbidden Song
The jury sits, pallid and grave,
well versed in the ways of "society" and "correctness",
he appears, drowned in confusion and numb to all else,
convicted of the dreary charge of "forbidden" love.
No words exchanged, for there is no need,
the sentence rings forth, pierces his breast like a dagger,
"Your love is a mistake, your mind a mess,
listen to the wisdom of the ages".
And it stings, it burns,
but he is not one to show.
Take my arm, take my leg,
but I cannot live without my heart.
And take away all I may need,
food and drink are careless indulgences,
but allow me the liberty to, in those dying moments,
find warmth and hearth in the home of my heart.
And lock me up, lock me in
in the darkest places deep, deep down below.
Though I may live amidst the unknown, scary and dark as it is,
the light of my heart shall guide me on.
Do it all, punish me so,
but for the love of God, let my heart go,
hearts are necessary, hearts are indispensable,
how can you perceive the love of God without them?
The eyes scan the murky darkness,
there are people around him, but they live in a different plane
his lover in his eyes, somewhere far far away
from the island moored by "society".
For love he chooses to go to the farthest points,
his world is that lover, unknown to even him at this point,
yet all he needs is love, the oil for the lamp of his heart,
a shame indeed that that love is forbidden.
And woe be to love, woe be to its permanence,
its rigid adherence to the faculties of the heart,
we hope to break free of this, to untie its grasp on us,
but love's a malady without a cure.
Date: 15 October 2020
Quotable Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
my mouth never ran for words
to a wordless place
my heart never ran for blood
till it met your face
but they ran, they ran away!
my spirit had never fled astray
to the realm beyond
nor my soul ever fly away
t'where it was born
but they fled, they fled in turns!
my eyes never beheld, and true
such beaut', ***** and strange
they only saw, but never knew
from where fairness came
but they saw, they saw your face!
my head did n'er think till now
that within the earth
and the universe around
"beasts" do, beauties get
but it thought with no regret!
my being was never well versed
to show grati-tude
nor were my knees made to bend
or my head to stoop
but they did, they did for you!
my heart did n'er beat like this
or not beat at all
for I, by grace, was made "king"
to rise, never fall
"and he rose, forevermore".