All the men in my life have been two things: an epic and an epidemic.
quote by Ethel Waters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epic Smile
Time slows;
then stops.
You have an epic smile,
shining brightly to challenge the sun.
You laugh with your soul,
eyes sparkling in the light.
You have an epic smile,
one I will never forget.
My heart leaps at your voice,
a smile shattering the gloom of life.
You have an epic smile,
brighter than a thousand suns.
I will think of you often,
though truthfully I already do.
You have an epic smile, my muse,
one that will always be with me.
poem by Brian Hinckley
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My Mom’s Epic
My mom is so epic,
My kin doesn’t know what to do,
She handles things her own way,
She is a tree, mighty and strong,
Like an eagle, mess with her babies,
Let’s say you will go down heavy,
She fights her own mêlées,
She cares for others,
By no way is she introverted,
She’s elation to my life,
Cautious and valiant is just the tip of the ice berg to portray her,
She’s interminable,
She’s been with me ever since I could remember,
I will always love her,
For she is MY EPIC MOM!
poem by Qeeony Luv
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Today, there is a drug and alcohol abuse epidemic in this country. And no one is safe from it-not you, not me and certainly not our children, because this epidemic has their names written on it.
quote by Nancy Davis Reagan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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37
There has been a rash of infections
from tattoo needles:
Did you hear? people are afraid.
If true, it will be the first time
an epidemic cured an epidemic.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Epic Poem
This poem is epic
so I named it so
it's more epic than wind and snow
which are in there own respects quite epic
snow could be described as ghetto
and wind can take on epic forms
like a spinning tiger with legs made of iron bars
that would be pretty epic
infact I think that happened in outer mongolia
to a young girl how got hit by the iron bars
sadly she died
but the type of death was one we all wish for
over exposure to pure epicness
like viewing a snail with a lightsaber who flies over mountains made of cheese
that's bleedin' epic
imagine it if you can
can you?
I imagined it so according to the ontological arguement
it exists
im scared now
it may be coming to get me
and although I will suffer the best kind of death
it will be death still
and what is death without life
it is simply death
that was mock epic
those statements aren't as deep as you think they are
they are meerly the ramblings of a crazy man
you fell for it did you not
I know you did for I can see you
your PC moniter is actually a camera
If you're paranoid then you will be scared now
and for that reason I laugh
I can see your fear
I smell it
it is like raspberry ripple ice cream
your fear is wierd
I don't like you anymore
this poem is bleedin' epic!
poem by Torben Duncan
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It's striking that Native Americans evolved no devastating epidemic diseases to give to Europeans, in return for the many devastating epidemic diseases that Indians received from the Old World.
quote by Jared Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sharing the Popularity of Procrastination
Who are the 'doers'?
Those who remove themselves from the don'ts.
Those who 'will'...
And do away with the 'wonts'.
The doers do things to get things done.
And spend less time,
Sharing the popularity of procrastination...
With others who cheer this epidemic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With several different kinds of poetry to choose from, a man would decide that he would like best to be an epic poet, and he would set out, in conscious determination, on an epic poem.
quote by Lascelles Abercrombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Do Not Want To Die...
war is not epic,
but it can fix problems (in a way) .
war kills many peole,
but is it for the best?
war is very hurtful,
but someone always wins.
war is but nothing except killing and winning...
war is but...
soldiers dying,
war can kill,
but I DO NOT WANT TO DIE,
i want to go home,
i saw brown leaves falling down,
war is the time you need friens the most,
I DO NOT WANT TO DIE...
And now may the blessing of God rest upon all men. I have told unto them the Epic of Kings, and the Epic of Kings is come to a close, and the tale of their deeds is ended.
Birds Are Not My Epic
When I’ll write an epic for the animals
Particularly birds with their wings and beaks and claws
They’ll make me sick to think of them in the bathroom
When all the intense images I’ll see are them flying
Over and above my head out from the shower faucet
Those weird throbbing like needles on my skins
Are brandishing my mortality to hate the images
I admit of them my number one phobia
I cannot run a writing race overnight with such of them as characters
They can be epic but they cannot be mine
Say if my rationality is purely an excuse
But I am this mortal who does fear
Birds are birds and I cannot undress them
Who has dreads and who has courage?
Birds are not my epic
poem by Chester Maynes
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O Singer of the epic war history
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of life, of liberation hoary,
Of brazen battlefields, long desolate,
O Singer of Gita's ageless glory.
Outlived hast the song thine endless story,
Though war heroes survive still in state,
Frustrated of fate but scarce sorry,
O Singer of the epic war history.
Yudhishthir's dharma, Arjun's archery,
Bheeshma's oath, Bhima's bravery,
Scarce confined remain to Pearly Gate,
And sung are with Gita's ageless glory.
And ye O bard, two roles in one carry:
Of poet laureate and progenitor great,
O ye born in a river ferry,
O Singer of the epic war history
Ye sang thine epic in such swell flurry,
Ganesha, if not quite inadequate,
Lost in thought, felt somewhat weary,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory,
Not mine ‘lone, any pen-pusher's worry
‘Tis to try even to translate,
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory.
_______________________________________ __
This is a Villanelle a bit way out. The tercet,
that normally becomes a quatrain only in the last
stanza, is here so in all. Also, the first and the third
lines of the first stanza are repeated with some
modifications.
_____________________________________________ ______
- Villanelle | 02.10.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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The Future, Unknown
Within the dread of the moment
I must dought that Shakespeare
Sat up all night, Writing his plays
Knowing they'd be timeless
One man
An epic in writing
By accident
Maybe one day
Once I have long since passed
Someone will come across
The pages I breathed life into
And maybe, out of mere curiosity
They may read my words and find symbolism
That I never meant to include
Maybe, in 300 years
I shall be an epic in the world of poetry
(If one still reads poetry by then)
And maybe I'll become famous as Shakespeare
Or Edgar Allen Poe; maybe I'll be known
For something I never meant to do
Myabe I'll be known for this
poem by Brie Carter
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Epic Night Elipse O' Light
epic night
with a spark of white
a whimper
then silence
reflections
lost in thought
lost in time
inhuman
back to the start
epic night
new to sin
end in sight
now to begin 7 days in.
poem by Mitch King
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Death of an Unknown Poet
An epic,
written by a brilliant mind
like Van Gogh,
underappreciated.
The poet dies in a squalid flat,
penniless and alone.
His lifes' work-
fantasmic verses of a visionary-
are all stuffed post-humously
into a box.
His genius,
mistaken for useless scribble,
is discarded like so much riff-raff.
It decays, forgotten.
Years pass.
The epic masterpiece alone survives
in that box filled with scraps of faded ink.
A single heart-wrenching poem,
now loved by millions,
by a now-mourned author
who's name evaporated, forgotten by time.
An epic
written by
Anonymous.
(15 minute poem challenge)
poem by Meggan McGuire
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Life
What know we of the dead, who say these things,
Or of the life in death below the mould--
What of the mystic laws that rule the old
Grey realms beyond our poor imaginings
Where death is life? The bird with spray-wet wings
Knows more of what the deeps beneath him hold.
Let be! Warm hearts shall never wax a-cold,
But burn in roses through eternal springs;
For all the vanished fruit and flower of Time
Are flower and fruit in worlds we cannot see,
And all we see is as a shadow-mime
Of things unseen, and Time that comes to flee
Is but the broken echo of a rhyme
In God's great epic of Eternity.
poem by Victor James Daley
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LIFE… An Epic.
Life is a book of epic!
Where are the pages to write the accounts?
Who gave this precious book,
And kept it open in front of the humans?
And kindled a lamp called life
For him to read at his will,
And forget himself, and live?
Enjoy each sentence in this epic.
It is embedded with exultation
And delight; vibrant with passion.
And love and lust, ravished by charms.
The lamp may extinguish to day or
Tomorrow, then there will be utter darkness,
The book will be illegible and fade away.
Idiots try to write accounts in its pages.
They add and subtract continuously.
But finally, all additions and subtractions
Turns to be erroneous, and faulty….
poem by Kunjubi Varghese
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Epic poetry exhibits life in some great symbolic attitude. It cannot strictly be said to symbolize life itself, but always some manner of life.
quote by Lascelles Abercrombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why These Eyes I Have?
I want to be like the epic Kanthari
with my eyes covered.
For there are men who feel no a touch of mercy,
to help a begging woman, who needs
some money to educate her children.
But, if she floats a smile on her lips
they let at once open the shutters of their coffers.
A bitch heard the cries of a baby left in a pit
and was suckling her to keep her alive.
I want to be like the epic Tritharashtra
with my eyes totally eclipsed.
For the officers who rise by means mean and routes rot
amass wealth to own farm-houses and resorts
by shouting often, “ Work for the Poor”
and keep their subordinates under threats,
quoting the serial numbers of ‘Conduct Rules’.
Their farm-houses don’t sleep at night
as the girls of the tinsel-world come
to meditate and do yoga till dawn.
All the people young and old
In their hands the mouse hold;
Click to see the world of dirt
and get their learning minds hurt.
Losing contacts with books,
they are stuck in a rut.
The things like these I don’t want to see
and so keep my eyes closed for ever.
----------
Note: Kanthari and Tritharashtra are epic characters;
husband and wife.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Depictions May Solicit Unhealthy Images
Controversy and the raising of eyebrows,
Produces the same affect.
From those who prepare to protest,
The reading of an epic.
That depicts within its pages,
A newborn being breast fed.
And the author is neither married.
Or has children.
And the one who has written this epic,
May be a male who describes.
His own upbringing.
Upsetting those who believe,
His depictions may solicit unhealthy images.
To those who are children,
Already experienced at downloading pornography.
On their cellphones.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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