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please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
The mind is a womb
Copulate it
Let the semen of reason
Part the legs of its cervix
And you will see
When moth struggles before its born
The power of its dreams for flight
Words are eggs, you know
Virginal eggs,
I saw him hatch them into bricks
Of ideas that he could carve
Like an Edna exhibit
All copulation must spontaneous
A true gentleman has that gift
Not to force his feelings
On his betrothed
He was also scholar, you know
A sort of poet
That prefer metaphors to the conflict
Of chisel and wood
He had such a mastery of the rhetoric
I mean he understood them better than us
For he did not only speak like them
But spoke their strategy better than them
I sometimes wondered how he knew himself
Apart.
Its sort of seemed ironic
That he did have the anger that Fanon composed
Unless wit is a subtle part of it
May be environment is such a part of it
The cool, I mean
We say that about Manchesterians
Roxborough,
If it could produce the soldier-scholar
Could not have produced just a little fire
Even for the cremation of his brother, Roy
Perhaps it was the mix blood ...
Busta said that his mother was Taino
I do not understand is who mixed them though
There is an overt statement of force to be made
A rape scrubbed from the memory
For how could one half of hm
Become so invisible ...
The mission I mean.
I must rule
More than wood, and more
Than water
For my destiny
Is more than what men may leech
So I am not exploited
I am killed for this robbery
And here I am left
A dead man on a throne
Here I am
Shrouded with self government
And staring into the empty eyes
Of children
So why do I love him then
Was it alone because my father
Fashioned my world for me
Gave me this icon
For proximity the barbarians
Who snatched my mother
Washing her white linen one day
From the sweet river
Do not take that thought to the bank
Where my children play
This man deserves his accolade
If only for taking blindness from my mind
If only for letting me know
The chain had never rattled their
And even in their own words
I could look at the world
And ask "why not?"
He gave me a ladder to my education
That was some gift,
Quite the best of all I am given
O it so beautiful to copulate the mind
Or hold hands through the annals
And see this Manley,
This little fountain of great ambition
Flowing at my lips.
Momma
She doesn’t want to hear from me no more
I'm tired, she cried
Pointed me in a direction
But I see that door
Would it be selfish on my part
To grip her palms and ask for more?
Though it's not on her chest
She simply hopes that her customers tip the best
If I said she hated me
I wonder would she put these lips to rest
In this post digital life
I got an email from a past friend
Point the icon to reply
Started to type but I had no words to send
Like a small whisper it said love won't last
As if to hold my head I didn't bother to ask
Rub the hurt
To keep her above the dirt
She tried
She held on with what she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
Before you leave this story alone
Maybe there's something you could do
To piece together the worry at home
In moments that it really counted
I guess I just would not listen
At times when I should have softened
My heart did nothing but stiffen
I guess that's just the way life is
Think about what you love and lost
What was once yours was always his
I never saw her but once
But she never forgot
To send me peace on my birthday
Sometimes I wonder
Did she lose me in her worst ways
Then again
There isn’t much I can say
She tried
She held on the best she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
With a little help from you
We put together withered ends of a string
In better hope that one day, one of us
Would suffer once more to hear the other sing
Sometimes fantasies are life
But most of the time
You just want to find intimacy with your wife
I'm not trying to make amends
But it's all over when it ends
So love your child
Make your everyday float above his smiles
I couldn't sympathize for your illness
For every person maintains their own struggle
So wipe away your tears
Let us not become absorbed by the puddle
Keep doing what you do
no one can stop you from pursuing it but you
The consequences, the awards
I'll happily push my cart
Further down the morgue
So close your eyes
If I were to take my last breath
I'd still wish you the best
She tried
She held on with what she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
The food was indeed, Greek.
My first Greek Frappe!
A most divine, heavenly treat.
Gods must have created this.
So far beyond good!
In gigantic glasses,with ice chips.
It was as good as an Ouzo on the rocks!
The Festival on Saturday was terribly
overcrowded,
I wanted to leave,before it started.
Fashion in the USA,no kidding has truly
grown retarded!
I like seeing men as men, not dressed as
obese 13 year old boys, sporting baseball
caps.
And the beauty of women?
Tossed away like toys, now women
only dress as boys?
My years are catching up with me,
I must hearedtdly admit.
I wanted to run from an American
culture that is so far from fashion
phenomenally adrift!
Like buffalo we were overcome with
the most fashionably unfit.
I sat with my daughter drinking a
Frappe.
And my only thought was how soon
and how fast we could get away!
I lost my appetite to eat with American
bisons!
With god-ugly toes jutting out of
cheap, plastic flip-flops.
Fat leaping out of obnoxious holes on
jeans of 300 pound women?
Ah, kill me now and let me go to
heaven!
I lost my appetite to eat midst this
hellish plethora of dirty feet.
And hair from hell to top off this
ungodly, human feat.
Then came beautiful girls, their
arms skewed with tattoos so ugly.
My desire to escape hit me much
more than suddenly.
I did have a Pastitsio, that was
yummy!
Just had to keep my eyes off the
volcanic, bulging tummies.
Thank goodness there were not
many children there!
Their mothers, the size of German
tanks would have squashed them
into instant mummies!
I did buy an icon of Christos and
Panayiota holding her child
Both in a carved wooden case.
Now this brought a smile to my
face!
And a turquoise evil-eye bracelet
with crystals, to ward off any
future toe and bison disgrace!
Greek bread we brought to take
home.
I swore up and down to never
leave my home, to roam.
Greek cookies, Kourabiedes,
and Greek bread, seemed to
calm my confused head.
Perhaps, going on a Saturday
was the worst possible choice.
Maybe I can go blindfolded next
year and hush my voice?
Or not go at all?
Still have PTSD, after what I
always previously I experienced
as a yearly treat.
It once was like going to a ball!
September 10, 2029
The attendees were not Greeks.
Form:
The bright orange rugby shirt I had,
When I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and seventeen,
Was my trophy and my pride and joy,
Never to be deprived of me,
Even if I complained to my parents or to their friend,
To have been seen to be a boy too much,
Or, in other words, mistaken as a superior person,
With other sociology to fulfil all my wishes.
I was just assertive and intelligent and all that,
A fashion icon, an example to others,
To disabled people or to church young persons,
Who were both the same to me, like each other;
They just wanted to fit into society,
To mark their case for more wheelchair rights,
Or in order to state their reason for believing in god.
I had my identity, my beliefs, and my role models,
Listened to them in respect, with amorosity:
I knew what I wanted to do in life,
And my goals were of course reasonable,
Because they could be achieved no problem, abstractly.
But that was it, and there it was,
Objectively everything sounded fine,
Doable, but what you thought about it,
The practicalities weighed you down,
Taught the string which so dangled entertainingly,
As a condition that was more of a pleasure,
To make, to work out such that your desires happened.
So my bright rugby shirt said it all really,
That I should have my desires and goals,
That I should be met and facilitated in life,
And not my parents or those church leaders,
That I was supposed to follow.
I did not ever have to state my case beforehand,
Before the meetings about my future and care needs,
Because everyone knew I was an atheist,
Able with expression and communication,
Able with much trust for other people.
I was in Germany once with my parents,
Dressed as usual in the clothes that I like,
Without hesitation, care or timidity;
My jumper may not have been bright orange,
But it was still colourful enough to attract attention.
So my parents were embarrassed, particularly my dad,
Who was a war veteran true and sensitive,
And so from then on we hid inside shops,
And even stayed longer in restaurants,
Because all the wheelchair spaces for the cafés,
Were outside those cafés at tables on the pavement;
So we shopped, visited the toilet more, went to museums,
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.
He danced on the decks of tossing ships, danced only for dimes
He danced to the lash and sound of whips, hip moving like dream
And when he reasoned, his words sublime brought heavenly climes
Dance from plantation to Greathouse, dancing in gully and stream
And if we dance again today, he choreographs nuance and fiber
Still; this talented son, this bright native of the Martha Brae River.
He is the twin soul of that Manley, our horizons in the sun
And when at Mona, he taught me how to run with my ton.
O farewell, brother of my brother, mentor that from your distance shape
Me into a patriotic landscape where my children may build, farewell
Sweet intellect; and O may they bring our Mframadan like cloth to drape
Your rest. All your public life was nobly spent, farewell, Rex, farewell!
Your footprints are bright, not castles in sand, from high hills shine
The glory of your days. O Griot, go the bidding now of the Divine
O Blow the abeng now, beat the kumina drum, O village peel
The bells of jubilee again. Aluta Continua, Rex, go take your seal!
Mi mumma band her belly and bawl long time, yai water like rain
Hot like Clarendon springs, and the world like blue mountain mist
So cold, O emptiness, emptiness is such a dread, O such a pain
What shall we do with out hollowness now, and how shall we resist
Again the shackles of injustice, O that there were Marley
To sing this icon into the icon of memory, for all our history
Is but words on a page until we can retrieve the past to right
Today and make tomorrow bright again. He was that light.
Coda
O Kilmanjaro weep! O Timbuctu weep! O Meroe and kujo's clan
Weep for the death of man, a sterling man, a grandiose design
That met its worth in gold in deeds of him. All our life is like sand
Worn from the rock of being by tides and seasons, and no sign
To tell where wind or water carry us, we are blown away
The shadow of the sand is gone, but never cannot decay
It is too immaterial, its presence is like his fragrance here
Bill still O Niger, and you great Nile, I borrow you for a tear.
In Systems Theory
there hides a transparent bias toward positively resilient systems
And there hides an unfortunate bias toward magically created
mechanistic systems
Competing in hierarchical global networks
empowered from sublime Above
and from Outside
domination by missionary zealous soldiers,
LeftBrain elitist owners
and their diabolical industrial worker flies,
Including a few elite wiser and smarter predative inventors
of ever-better and faster and convenience-enhancing mechanical systems
for burning limitless positive energy
to worship on the alter altar of business-like consuming industry;
Unlike synergetically balancing Earth,
our intellectual WholeSystem integrity-balance exemplar,
Earth icon of organic superego
cooperatively self-governing good healthy climates--
sacredly interdependent systems,
Heard and health-watched and wealth-languaged
back in animistic days
of humane/divine nature-spirit nondualistic philosophical reflection
with religious experience,
spiritual-natural extended family trust relationships
Suffering from loud nightmares
prophesying and professing future awe-enlightening
mechanistic Rapture harvests
of all unripe ego eggs
still unworthy of full competitive monotheistic life,
Distracted by disassociated threats,
by pathologically non-performing autonomous Fail-systems
headed terrified away to Lose economic thunder
and Lose empowering potential integrity
and Lose ecological trust relationships
and Lose theological opportunities for future communion
and Lose natural spirit synergy,
and Lose deadening nature v spirit subclimates,
absence of environmentally re-empowering karma.
Secular commodified mechanical systems
become distracted by graceful
truthful
trusting
integral animistic love,
healthy active WinEarth to WinEgo positive outcome trajectories
for one globally healthy
organic
permaculturing system
Restoring polypathic justice
to divinely humane ZeroZone SystemSouls,
Reweaving formative forests and rivers and oceans
into re-connecting green gospel-singing EarthMother,
healthy Gaian EcoSystem
and Her season-fractal subsystemic
non-mechanical climate healers
of organic growth
and resilient
polypathic
healthy wealth development.
This is a true-life celebration of love ballad. A chance meeting on a Greek island becomes a whirlwind romance. From Athens’ vibrant Monastiraki markets to a Taverna where you can experience the lively traditional, passionate Greek culture and music.
Join Demetri and his spirited Sismo Dance Company to the strains of his Bouzouki. This Original bilingual (English/Greek) musical experience blends the magic of love at first sight with traditional and Mediterranean flair, to moonlit beaches, it’s a tribute to all those who’ve ever fallen in love fast, felt deeply, and dared to dream.
(YouTube, Subtitles in multiple languages)
(Simply click the Gear icon, choose your preferred language under 'Subtitles/CC'. Then click on 'Auto Translate.')
Come Closer To Me - Love at First Sight
LYRICS
COME CLOSER TO ME
Trelos ya sena
COME CLOSER, LOVE YOU TRUE,
Ella Konda mou na sou po,
MAY I HUG YOU,
Na s’angalayaso an boro,
I DANCED WITH YOU LAST NIGHT,
Ma ze sou horepsa egthes,
FOR ME YOU SEEMED SO RIGHT,
Agapi mou apo pou erthes?
COME CLOSER FOR IT IS MY AIM,
Ella Konda, na sou po,
TO TELL MY SECRET, THIS NO GAME,
To mistiko mou ella tho,
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Thellou na zesume mazi.
ENJOY OUR YOUTH AND IN IT BASK.
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
WE WILL LOVE, KISS AND SIP FROM WINE,
Sta hili sou ena fili, se agapo toso poli,
AND WHILST WE DINE,
Ke an to potiri me krasi
IF A GLASS MAY FALL, BREAK AND SPILL,
Poh tay gee thee,
LET IT BE ON ME, IF IT WILL.
Na eme ego, ke ohi esee.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apti tin argee, esouna ese.
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apti tin argee, esouna ese.
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
Rewrote our History books for the world to see
A worthier Icon there could never be,
Born and died over the span short of a century,
Baba Madiba became South Africa’s first Black
President in April 1994, finally, eventually!
Nelson Mandela was destined for this role,
As the masses empowered, flocked to the pole
A lawyer, an activist, a prisoner, a free soul,
His peaceful anti apartheid activism, a thorn
In the Government's side, but after Sharpeville,
His sabotaging tactics against those opposing
The ANC, brought about his arrest, his only desire
The African National Congress to be recognized
Was his goal.
He was incarcerated, but at his trial, he defended
His people with heartfelt passion
He would one day he promised
Become their liberator and stop inhumane
Tyranny – for this end he was prepared to die,
Outside the court among the masses, there
Wasn’t a dry eye.
And no bloodshed did South Africa see,
As was anticipated, rumours abounded, but
A kind, intelligent and brave leader, imprisoned for
Twenty seven years,
Changed an era with peace and raised no fears.
He was a much loved President by black and white,
He was elected for two terms, after which until he
Died, became a worldwide renown humanitarian
Across the globe international leaders
Praised and revered this humorous, intellectual
Man who chose to be honest, just and right.
He passed on December 5th at the age of 95 in
2013, indeed a sad event.
Which not even the Almighty could prevent.
Known lovingly as, Baba Madiba, Father Madiba
In Africa, our vast Continent, a multiracial face
Began to appear, no matter the race.
When he died,
By his side,
Were his loving children
And grandchildren and Graca Machel, his wife,
Who with Baba Madiba,
Shared a happy marriage and life.
A hero who cemented together a democratic state,
When the entire world thought, it was already too late.
* SHARPEVILLE A MASSACRE OF UNARMED BLACK SOUTH AFRICANS BY POLICE FORCES
* BOTH PRESIDENT MANDELA AND EX PRESIDENT DE KLERK JOINTLY RECEIVED THE NOBEL
PRIZE FOR REALIZING THE TIME HAD COME FOR PEACE, AND THEREFORE BRINGING
APARTHEID TO AN END.
Another overwhelming day passed in the pastures of plenty
The scene was tired and did not warrant a space on the news
Just one more place with no conscience for mind numbed souls
It was bitterly chilly and bones stuck out on frozen bloodstreams
Sore thumbs hurt from pulling blighted triggers for icy salvation
Sanguine convictions floated on ichor and the gods were pleased
Fatima’s house now bereft of ‘infidel’ prayers was not easy to see
Its ruins blended perfectly into an infernal landscape of conquest
Like an icon of madness only the doorframe stood gruesomely tall
Tempting as it was the gateway to heaven refused meek entrance
For forsaken survivors who had fallen on insanity’s greedy onslaught
A child’s doll felt the pain of limbo with an eye missing for an eye
A dismembered mosque lay in prostrate incineration ready for burial
Its intricate stones would come in handy for grave stones and tombs
Everything has its purpose even when reason and feelings have died
The muezzin’s last farewell to scorched arms depicted in charred coal
A final solution encrypted in banality of evil and trivial calls for justice
The winner takes it all and the home front of terror spewed fury and hell
Thousand fewer mouths to feed must surely be a passionate blessing
Relief organizations had not been able to quell misery and starvation
Their trucks would not find a path through devastation and rubble
Victorious armies assembled their weapons and went home for respite
Foot soldiers in trenches and tents as the officers went to their wives
Made love to their women and caressed perfectly groomed deportment
‘Darling I love you and it has been a splendid day for righteous triumph
Are the children in bed yet and have you read them a tale from the Bible?’
‘No worries they took solace in the lullaby and slumber in effervescent dreams
Hailed to the good Lord and their father who made sure that they rest in Peace
Jordan still wants to be a shunter where the tracks point to chambers of mercy
And Abigail promised to be a good girl to eat her greens and make you so proud'
03rd March 2020