Long Multilingual Poems
Long Multilingual Poems. Below are the most popular long Multilingual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Multilingual poems by poem length and keyword.
Für Elise
walking through the hidden realm of
my heart,
whistling close by me, a poisoned
dart,
burning lightning in a pearly orb,
the essence of my agony you
absorb,
echoes of a dog's anguished howl,
the opening eyes of a new-born
foal,
ruby tears from the eyes of an
innocent child,
a Spanish bull fight gone wild,
fiery chimera in a hailstone blizzard,
a multilingual emerald, flying-lizard,
purple mountain majestic mistletoe
kiss,
a rare sorrowful bliss,
a distant ringing of mournful bells,
walking along a rocky beach
collecting empty shells,
carousel of blood-hounds, running
on fire,
my only desire; to hear this
unearthly ire,
wretched arlequin, juggling the last
string of sanity,
this truly isn't a show of
subconscious vanity,
reaping emotions at such surprising
speeds,
along with bitter memories of
horrendous deeds,
diving into a sun-warmed tropical
reef,
floating with fire coral far beneath,
a lilytrotter on candy-sweet waters,
the irreplaceable smile of a
cherished daughter,
a blue fish dancing on a ghastly
moon,
corruption swept away by a gilded
monsoon,
a flurry in a race-horse chase,
no thoughts left to chastise,
shrewd smell of ancient tree-spice,
lingers in the unreachable corners
of paradise,
when the red and golden banners
are hung,
a far-off nightingale's song is sung,
the cresent moon, white-light
projector,
an involuntary earth-life protector,
darling Ludwig, you sly minx,
for you have put my uncontrollable
will under a jinx,
I'm nude, my true colours on
display,
until it comes my time to decay,
Elise trapped thee heart in Limbo,
full of shadowed stars and
powdered moonshine,
in a fairytale land divine,
treacherous Elise, make a speech,
of words no Poet can breech,
to thy trespasser, rowing,
in forbidden waters of longing
melody.
175 seconds of unabridged art in
blood...
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All Rights Reserved
The Headless Greenlandic Horseman
A Meditation in 6 parts.
Avalanche
I.
The sky is starry
The night is scary
I'm very afraid
of the living dead;
On a mission; or Fugitives in the city
II.
The headless Greenlandic horseman
speaks Kalaallisut very well indeed,
plus Dansk and English! What a man!
A polyglot he is! Yes, sir! Although he
Is evil and wants to behead Mr. Donn
Oh! How horrible! How horrible! The
reason being, Donn owes him plenty
of money. More than 500.000 bucks!
Camera Obscura
III.
Mikko Donn (whose dad is Finnish) is a fugitive in the city
& Hansen, the cowboy from Kalaallit Nunaat, is his hunter;
500.000 U$ is that debt's figure, folks;
Oh! This is horrid! Truly horrid for sure!
I contemplate upon this very jittery and jumpy
Oh, I am scared! Oh, yes! I am scared!
Donn's head is at stake--because he's a debtor;
Another headless man? And multilingual again?
Isn't that whimsical? A headless man wants to
decapitate another man and both speak many
superb languages! That's admirable! Yes, sir!
Spasmodic Apostrophes
IV.
Ave Hansen, Morituri te Salutant
anthropologizing, vexillologizing;
Well, Donn's head is still extant.
Though, I dare ask, for how long?
Equestrian Interregnum
V.
Fear is what Donn feels
even down to his heels;
He feels he's gonna puke
even though he is a duke!
The philanderer's philter will save him no longer
The Greenlander and his plug are after him;
There's no escape--the event is rather grim;
He is doomed. Period. Good-bye, fishmonger!
Hurkle! Hurkle! Hurkle!
VI.
Donn's head is safe now. Why?
Because of my idea; Donn is a fish vendor
and has a friend who is a surgeon;
Therefore, I suggested "What about implanting
a fish's head on Hansen? Wouldn't it be nice?"
Donn okayed what I said & called his friend,
Mr. Sherry, the surgeon. Hansen accepted.
They made a deal. Besides the fish's head,
Donn has to teach Hansen Suomi, a
perfect language. And that's how this tale
ends. Hansen and Donn became friends
and ate partridges together.
Words forming stories on my mind-canvas…
The written words, letters drawn upon a page are, power;
a force to be celebrated and dreaded.
The images of the artist;
words paint profound stories within paintings.
Communication illustrated to teach;
from these seeds we all grow.
Words sketched with pen and brush can move mountains, change a life or heal; the Cadillac of tools for those who see and
know how to utilize them in any situation.
They are universally, multilingual.
Words initiate communication,
interaction is vital to the survival of all species.
Symbols, images, a glance or gesture are
all forms of word-art; cosmic graffiti.
Words bond and obliterate,
evoke emotion and soothe the soul.
Words are invaluable allies and formidable enemies;
both the life-of-the-party and a safe place to hide.
Memoirs, adventures, challenges,
hopes and dreams are all shared by words.
Stories and tales experienced by
writer and reader alike.
The ultimate superheroes
enabling their creators with the power to
change the world or an entire universe.
These inter-dimensional characters
tumble from pen and brush to the page.
When read out loud or spoken they serve as
transformational powers.
This transformative cosmic dust,
a sacred gift used by rich and poor, alike.
Uniform cuneiforms, precious petro glyphs and
hybrid hieroglyphs paint eons of growth and wisdom.
The human condition at-a-glance,
making a vibrantly painted record of life.
5-4-2021
FINAL 2021 N-A Choice 3 Poetry Contest
William Kekaula
Words forming stories on my mind-canvas…
The written words, letters drawn upon a page are, power;
a force to be celebrated and dreaded.
The images of the artist;
words paint profound stories within paintings.
Communication illustrated to teach;
from these seeds we all grow.
Words sketched with pen and brush can move mountains, change a life or heal;
the Cadillac of tools for those who see and
know how to utilize them in any situation.
They are universally, multilingual.
Words initiate communication,
interaction is vital to the survival of all species.
Symbols, images, a glance or gesture are
all forms of word-art; cosmic graffiti.
Words bond and obliterate,
evoke emotion and soothe the soul.
Words are invaluable allies and formidable enemies;
both the life-of-the-party and a safe place to hide.
Memoirs, adventures, challenges,
hopes and dreams are all shared by words.
Stories and tales experienced by
writer and reader alike.
The ultimate superheroes
enabling their creators with the power to
change the world or an entire universe.
These inter-dimensional characters
tumble from pen and brush to the page.
When read out loud or spoken they serve as
transformational powers.
This trans-formative cosmic dust,
a sacred gift used by rich and poor, alike.
Uniform cuneiform's, precious petro glyphs and
hybrid hieroglyphs
paint eons of growth and wisdom.
The human condition at-a-glance,
making a vibrantly painted record of life.
4-11-2021
ALL YOURS (APR11) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
"Dia de Los Muertos", the Spanish name it. Eve
of All Saints, saw we of the church of blessed assurance
of an observance ushering in fall while easing
our multilingual obsession with death. The sun shines
on unmarked graves, and, "Come winter the same
snow falls, dusting us all," so it is said, and so
honored at The Dollar Tree Store.
Weeks before Halloween, when punctilious roadside tents
fill with demonic orange grins, when what the French
call The Season of Color with its 'sturm und drang' roars
in, I push past the doors of The Dollar Tree. No
automatic entry ushers us in, no Pearly Gates swing
wide to celestial Muzak. We come to purchase the needs
of the living-- tinfoil, plastic bags, detergent: a limpid purple
liquid with its cautionary "Do Not Drink," its "Fragrancia
Duradera." Longevity, one dollar a bottle.
Shelves of seasonal gimcracks stack up at the entrance.
"Adornes" in your face, useless for extending time:
crows with real feathers, spectral spider webs, glittery
black skulls, mockup tombstones inscribed "Rest in
Pieces"--Do Not Disturb-- Don't Laugh, You're Next.
I laugh, anyway. Comics know reality is funny.
All Hallows Eve a year ago, our parish priest
stood in cemetery darkness at a rude stone altar,
celebrating Mass at Bosque Bello, our Beautiful Forest
of flashlights and luminaries. There among graves
of the known and unknown, we broke bread and
shared the cup of blood, there, where the blessed dead
settle deep in their shoe-boxes, and the not-yet-
unmasked confront certain demise.
We met in Valletta city on a fine November day
Introductions...hugs and kisses; we got talking straight away.
All agreed to go sight-seeing – architecture , harbour view
Made a stop to buy an ice-cream where there is a constant queue .
We strolled on and at Cordina’s chose al fresco to sit down
Next to regal Queen Victoria, a stone lady with a crown.
Drinks were ordered and pastizzi, which were followed by some cakes
Freshly baked and appetizing, all adorned with chocolate flakes.
We were served by cherub Fabio busy running out and in
Second time the badge said Mario, then we found that he’s his twin.
Jan and hubby soaked the sunshine, the Calluses hugged the shade
Those around spoke multilingual, a musician plied his trade.
We stayed there and spoke for ages, watched the tourists walking by.
Valentina took our photos; she is young and sweet as pie.
Jan and Bob will be returning in two years on Malta’s shore
Although Maurice has predicted it will be a year before!
They will then be celebrating married bliss with silver ware
All on Soup will be invited; this occasion is to share.
That’s a promise made for keeping – friends will meet for sure once more
We shall have some cake and snickers; sweet surprises lie in store!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Fun poem ~ co-written by Paul-Jan-Valentina on 2/11/2014
Grimoire enchantress beguiles vetala invictus, slicka min kisse, hehe just kidding, just a u’i lata spreading sugar, a sweet gift. A snarl like smile crosses my countenance as I manifest into a deity of quintessential grandiloquence on this edifice, casting thy maestra symphony to be or not to be liminal esoteric Mnemosyne velleity, but in fact a vatic edict on tantalizing your most intimate sultry.
Necromantic kissy kissy muah, to the necrobiotic, rictus lambent lament, melodious songbird choir of sempiternal complexity to make sanguinary fervid incipient lachrymose flooding the streets. Cross this lycanthropic malediction for I ventriolic assanina husks empyrean arcana dismal fates under thy hex with the depths psychopomp Yggdrasil.
Careful where you tread mortal, goddess of the nigh is here, witchess gazes through the fenestral, nocturne saucers glimmer as the siren lures you with serenades and her visage, just an itty bitty bite is how it starts, catch a sweet tooth and it will splay you apart. Velvets bear jagged fangs emptying your chest cavity of your heart, delicate if it’s eaten before it stops.
Oh 'Santa's Gift' attack,
A Greenland-based hacking group,
Bypassing input sanitation,
Root access to your cloud will soon be scooped.
Privacy and security advocates,
Fighting to eliminate cookies,
Rethinking their Bits,
As an overflowing stack of cookies is the key.
The drive to automate,
Middle management eliminated,
But with trouble following policy,
How much worse will it be if we're cheated?
In 2023, fraudsters will abound,
Spoofing biometrics, fraudulent documents, synthetic identities found,
Bot vs. bot, good vs. bad,
The bots with the best AI will surely be glad.
A person with no knowledge,
May create a destructive worm,
Almost a trillion dollars in damage,
It's almost a certainty, the damage to be born.
Hackers using ChatGPT,
Multilingual communications with unsuspecting users,
Difficult to recognize,
The damage this technology will cause is almost a certainty, no excuse.
I'm not scared of ChatGPT,
I'm scared of its children and grandchildren,
2023, the year of the bot,
Good vs. bad, who will win?
The Mockingbird sings out his misleading best,
in hopes to attract a dupe with a nest,
where the squatter believes mate’s eggs should belong;
so mimics and jabbers uncountable songs.
Catbirds and Thrashers, related critters,
both grey North Americans sport throats of a twitter.
These gifted Warblers mock tricky bird tunes,
deceiving, deluding as feathered dragoons.
In fairness to balance the Tweeters’ intent,
creating, demanding a need to invent
a song to attract a new or lost mate:
so, a beacon to follow and commitment to state.
EXAMPLE MOCK SONGS
whistling, hey-hey yip pittie-yap
frog gurgle, snarf-chickie claw-saw
peep peeping piccolo-staccato bleat
sniftering chit-chat, yodel-do do
snerling, rat trap, blah tat-tat-tat
crunchy nasal chirp, coo-coo-coo
Did you hear about Don? What a guy!
On the pretty gals he had his eye.
But he had zero chance
with them all. At romance
he kept messing up, for he was shy.
In a language school Don then enrolled
where he learned words of love, I am told.
Of cute *senoritas
he’d ask for *besitas.
His tongue was becoming quite bold!
The language of his newest dear
he’d be whispering into her ear:
With “Jet’aime,” “Querido,”
“Kuss mich” or “Ti amo” -
Through all Europe he roamed without fear.
With his sweet words, he’d go on and on
till he tired of a girl and be gone.
And that’s how a guy
named Don, once so shy,
is now known as a famous *Don Juan.
*senoritas = young ladies (in Spanish)
*besitas = little kisses (in Spanish)
*Jet'aime = I love you (in French)
*Querido = My dear (in Spanish)
*Kuss mich = Kiss me (in German)
*Ti amo = "I love you (in Italian)
*Don Juan= name for a womanizer (Spanish/English)
For Debbie Guzzi's Bi-Lingual Poetry Contest