Long Alliterative Poems
Long Alliterative Poems. Below are the most popular long Alliterative by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alliterative poems by poem length and keyword.
HEGEMONICS
coherenet
communal
insights
&
contrasts
explorations
of
interacted
concepts
without
resistence
into
authenticityn
complicated
accentual
patterns
of
texture
in
well-placed
variable
but
crucial
possibilities
of
suspense
a momentum
into
the
alliterative
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
An interlude forms around the apertures
Brows born of liquid gold arch like the bent rays of the sun
Cresting above irises of obsidian black and liner of kohl
Daydreams quiver above a cupid’s bow of upper lip
Ecstasy awaits the unmasking interloper.
Alluring analgesic to the proper, pivotal moldings modify
majestic moles, marking beauty beyond the banal,
heightening the hardened features of heaven's harlots.
M aking the internal mirror the external,
A sking the private to maintain its allure by encapsulation.
S he satisfies sinful longings by subterfuge.
K illing all that remains of her nubile heart.
*The verse regarding masks IS masked in 3 forms ABC, Acrostic
and Alliterative Form.
Contest: It's Mask Time
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
'Morning,
Mary!
-'Morning,
Martin
Meet
My
Main
Man
Mike. . .
-'Morning,
Mike.
~'Morning,
Mondo
Mama!
-Mondo
Mama???
Meaning??
Mary,
Mike's
Merely
Merry
Meeting
Mary :)
-MEANING,
MIKE???
~Mary,
My
Mistake,
Mostly
Merriment,
Merely
Mischievous ;)
Mary,
Mike's
Mistake. . .
-Mike's
Manipulative
Mansplaining—
Misogynist!
~Meh. . .
***
01/03/2020
Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with or sound like the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on Wattpad.com, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :)
Disclaimer: This poem is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. The names used are ficticious and were chosen to satisfy the requirements of the poetry form.
Photo credit: rozkmina | Szczecin, Poland
In a whimsical world of witty wonder,
Where laughter lingers, lost not in thunder,
There danced a dandy with a dapper flair,
Sporting red shoes, a vivid vision, rare.
He pranced in patterns, a playful sprite,
His heels clicking, a rhythmic delight,
With every step, a spark would ignite,
A fiery frolic in the soft silver light.
"Fickle feet, with a flamboyant beat,
Wherever you frolic, you'll never admit defeat,"
He chuckled in tempo, his spirits alight,
A crimson carousel in the pale moonlight.
The shoes, they whispered of wild escapades,
Of jaunts and jamborees in sunny glades,
With alliterative antics, they'd gladly regale,
A tapestry of tales, a merry mirthful trail.
"Gallivanting goofs, you garner grins,
With every jig, the joy never ends,"
He jested with glee, his heart aflutter,
As red shoes shimmied, in a boisterous banter.
Through the town he'd twirl, a torrent of cheer,
A jovial jester, no jinx could come near,
For in those red shoes, he found his due mirth,
A boundless bonanza, a celebration of birth.
So, let's raise a toast to the red shoe revue,
Where humor and heart in harmony brew,
And in every step, let laughter ensue,
For life's too short to wear shoes so blue.
L o v e, a withering star ~
awakened amidst silence
that swirls through the night sky
like fairy lights,
i l l u m i n a t i n g
the maze of midnight
with kaleidoscopic traces
of what once soared…
But in the chasm of loss and agony,
I found the gossamer essence of hope
from the
glass-winged arms of metamorphosis…
Now I breathe you, organza moonlight,
e c l i p s e d by crimson claws
of condescending constellations,
while faith sleeps within the pale husk
of mythical mists,
drinking pomegranate ambrosia,
from the rose-gold horn
of Persephone’s throne,
as black-magic thickets thrive from
the cursed lips of tendrils ~
harvesting pain,
rustling through the vineyard
of violet orchids
amidst this heart that sings of
evergreen springs,
etched with sins and tears
onto catacomb cellars of wickedness…
Listen to your heartbeat,
there, in the mirroring cadence
of soft-spoken rhymes,
I live and reside ~
wandering through the hallways;
an asylum of metaphors
turning wraiths of words
into wisterias,
whirling in the whimsical wind,
a castle of alliterative archives
emanating empathic embers
that burned capricious chords
to carve calligraphic clemency
with Cleopatra’s gold
seized from the Egyptian deserts…
But it is through the
satanic soul of kohl seas
I found the bluest streak of bliss ~
my Felix Culpa,
sprinkling firefly dust from afar ~
I see you, awaiting the return
of butterflies…
For you and I,
we found L o v e,
inhaling poetic promises,
exhaling toxic tercets ~
with syllables of stressed desire,
you showed me rainbows of sage,
taught me the rhythm of truth,
to silence the thunder
that roars in rage
within the fragile psyche of life,
and in your presence,
I loved and learned ~
to curate colors
from
the ethereal
dreamscape of d u s k…
Crystallized red, gold, green nocuous clang
of vertigo, bird-toons tweeting, knees on the rocks,
rolling eyes, coverlet-lids closing, discovered
in fetal position, cocooned in butterfly net.
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Shouldn’t you use the bathroom?”
“Your coffee’s gone cold.”
Vortex of colors inside chromatic coma, schmoozing muse -
her elixir mixed with vibrancy, deliciousness, chamomile.
Rippling sounds of waterfalls, crooning creeks, sentient sleep.
Lips murmuring as if in meditation, rambling in fevered state,
alliterative, rhyming, tossing crumbs and cookies, tasting
death and birth - primordial sampling, inordinate linguistics.
Rip Van Winkle at your side. He’s been kryptonized,
espoused likewise - in dreams and nightmares, terrorized
and raptured by a sea of imagery of red, gold and green—
might awaken in twenty years…twenty years that disappear.
9/21/2021
As Pharoah thought
Deep thoughts on Thoth,
He became serious
And thought of Osiris.
What of Seth?
What do Anubis and Horus sayeth?
Of Amun and Mut,
And panoplied Nut?
It may take me forever
Mused the Pharoah -
To invent the Alphabet
To honour me and the rest.
So he hit upon a plan
From the carved likeness of man
In relief on a cliff.
Hey, hello - was born the Hieroglyph!
So excited was the Pharaoh
That row upon row
Of ideograms were made
For then and beyond- never to fade.
Way back in Antiquity
Was the hieroglyph's nativity,
From civilization's start
Great works of art.
After five millennia or more
At a light and sound show
The Hieroglyphs stand out
In splendor and shout:
Look on and wonder
On our days of thunder;
When great kings ruled the land
Where you wonder and stand.
Great things we'd tell you
If only you knew
To read papyrus and stone
Like your own Champollion!
Be that as it may
Setting aside our dismay
We venture to now and here
And our version of the ancient fear -
Athazagoraphobic
Is a form of being sick
Where you fear you'll be forgotten
As your memory gets rotten.
To overcome this fear
Modern science was here.
Came our Dennis Gabor
With the fruit of his labor.
- Hologram-
Now you can see light effects
Both form and the texts
With science of the day
Having had it's great say.
But think all over again-
Isn't it plain
Holograms in chips
Are but chipped hieroglyphs?
That some day in future
A post-apocalyptic preacher
Would try to decipher
The hologrammatic cipher?
A Rosetta Stone of old
A better story told
Than this obsolescent chip
Of a "modern" Athazagoraphobic.
Let me wind up this ditty
Of trying to be witty
Holograms and Hieroglyphs
Are both alliterative scripts!
~11 April 2016~
Contest Judged : 29 May 2016
When metaphors play 'hide and seek,'
my shield is a veil nurturing premature petals.
Yet there are some words that become poems,
to help those who care to read
to interpret the alchemist mystery,
personifying personal alliterative angst.
The heart ponders...
What will abandon me first,
my trusted muse? Who reveals my truth
or my wallflower soul, which prevents
butterfly breaths - breathing their last sigh?
What am I,
but a pomegranate pebble,
oppressed by stones -
in a man's world, feeling like a boy.
Once, I planted two seeds with ultimate care,
but they no longer bloom for my atonement.
Yet, I still care for them from a distance,
soaking their roots with drops of blood.
Once, I found love,
so I formed into a bridge,
protecting her from raging torrents,
but I could not live up to expectations,
as turbulent waves crashed against my chest.
Now I'm crumbling.
Sometimes, I'm left alone upon an unknown path,
with only cloudy horizons above - but I keep wandering.
Hoping to be found.
Slowly, I lose a part of me,
but I'm inexperienced in
trying to be who you want me to be.
I'm tired from being devalued.
Maybe, I'm worthless,
simply useless, some what careless,
so throw your spears -
I no longer feel.
I won't tell.
I'll remain silent,
but my poetry will forever echo.
Simple Musing
An example for my current contest.
THE DIDDLER
Run Diddy! Run!!
Diddy did it, caught up in his wild fun.²
Daring Diddy, the dexterous diddler,
Danced through daylight, a deft dealer.
Draped in dreams, a dainty draughtsman,
Doodling daisies, defying the dour dam.6
Drawing deep from the draught of desire,
Diddy’s doings, a dynamic & dashing pyre.
Dusk descended, deep and dark,
Diddy’s deeds became his dooms-tack.¹°
Darting through the dim-lit streets,
Devising, designing, dexterous feats.
A diddler, true, in every deed,
Driven not by greed, but by a different creed.¹4
Dipping down, Diddy's desires never get dull,
Doing dirty daring deeds, Diddy did it all,
Dawgs drubbing through Diddy's doors,
Bro, lending helping hands means nothing to us!¹8
Dancing, dripping, daring to dream,
Diddy's doings, a dazzling beam.
Here's to Diddy, the diddler, devoid of dread,
Daring to do what others dare not tread.²²
Dancing through life, a dashing display,
Diddy’s deeds, an alliterative array.
Though Diddler weaves magic with every verse,
Diddy fled the public's eye & his Badboy universe.²6
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Alliteration/Rhymes
Image by: Quincy Martin
Copyright ©?March 2024.
#diddydidit #thediddler #badboy4life #cîrocvodka #pdiddy
as the wind whistles
warm wishes
echoing the
sea-salt silence
flowing beneath
silver-kissed waves
I think of synonyms for
love
illustrating hate
in elusive rhythm...
for stars never
envy the moon
but silently orchestrate
a cosmic choir
of coruscating crystals
in incandescent cadence
swirling confetti across
the nocturnal sky~
a compelling
commemoration
that you and I cherish
in technicolor tercets…
I ponder
why do green-eyed gazers
spinning
lilac lies
within
jaded journals
along jeweled realms
rage with
j e a l o u s y?
pushing my quivering quill
to question:
am I not art
am I not the muse
am I not worthy
am I not the ache
romanticized with roses...
perhaps these words
are mere
remnants of ramblings
ricocheting
rhapsodies
within the
breath of perfumed heartbeats
that the kohl-cold souls
can never taste...
so I purge
inked petals
upon the digital canvas,
that feels not
lyrical lifelines
bleeding ballads
h i d i n g and
h e a l i n g
behind
murky metaphors
and
alliterative adjectives
weaving h o p e
amidst
the
crestfallen
sighs
of
bittersweet
horizons…