Long Arctic Poems
Long Arctic Poems. Below are the most popular long Arctic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arctic poems by poem length and keyword.
if tears of the sun were the metaphorical keys
to unlock twisted trinkets of the searing sky
would you feel the festering forest~
homing arctic orchids within these veins?
or am I to remain detached and numb;
caged in a cursed collision
like an evanescent epiphany
of a misled marionette ~
screaming for a cathartic elixir….
tonight my intuition is a passive-aggressive gaslighter
manipulating the inner voice ~ like a pathological liar
freezing the floral clairvoyance…
while curiosity keeps crawling
amidst crestfallen opium
I ponder: do frost and flame, as I breathe in bleakness~
transcribe how the echo
within the fog filters reality
curated in the midst of melted angst
fluctuating like stone-blind blackness~
a drop-dead delirium kissed by the darkness
of a silent sepulcher?
I’m a prisoner of splitting supernovae
caught in polarized pyretic disruptions
for everything feels like exaggerated deceit
when truth seems like a mere dot above~
a hyphen of irrational ratios
carved from calculated confusions,
betrayed by the violent strings
of my violin heart…
Summer solstice
As Sun appeared to stand still in the sky
hence a Latin term solstice arised,
Summer sweltered till to fierce heat's wilt,
came closer to sun, earth with elliptic tilt,
Be it reason to season's conquest,
Summer solstice brought renewal and good harvest,
Fascination marked by the Stonehenge,
and Ireland's prehistoric newgrange,
Guru purnima, international surfing day or music day
Washington celebrates Fremont solstice parade,
Arctic circle sees sun on horizon during midnight,
as places north see sun 24 hours shining bright.
Written June 3rd, 2016
For contest by Shadow Hamilton
Now entered for "Second chance" poetry contest by Nayda
Asteroid
You were out of this world
named for the Perseids
the meteor
that exploded in two striking the blue
between the sun and the moon
the massive spark an exclamation mark
that punctuated perfectly my
“hey we’re going to see some awesome...”
fireworks tonight and
a week later
Gravity
led me to you
all arctic and wolfy
all wild and white
a firecracker alright
You were out of this world
a brilliant light in my life for
fourteen years
Graced
after you died
I learned a meteor
had streaked
that very same sky
the same day
my gift from the heavens
the heavens reclaimed
Asteroid 2000-2014
8.13.2020
Composed for Constance La France’s
All Pets Go To Heaven Poetry Contest
The only thing colder than the brisk of winter
Is my lonely heart which has remained abandoned
Very few of those who enter my tragic life
Earn their spot as someone who changed it for the better
As I feel the icy wind brush against my face
I am reminded of the changing of seasons
How people fall away like autumn leaves
Never to be seen again, their promises, unfulfilled
Once upon a time, my heart was warm and happy
And each time the knife plunged into my chest
The shield became a little bit weaker
Until finally, it shattered and disappeared
The arctic air rushed in and froze it in place
Numbing and freezing it to the rest of the world
So that were the knife to strike again
It would only crack, and not break
Pain no longer to be felt, nor pleasure
Feelings can either be completely turned off
Or felt full force in all of their highs and lows
So which is better than the other?
That is the story, of my cold lonely heart
And the question of being thawed
Remains to be seen for the future
When the seasons change once more
The somber sky falls flustered,
wrecks the crown of bejeweled night.
The sickle moon slices its glow,
dissolving at the brink of blue.
In the depth of opaque onyx
ground hears the footfall of stillness.
Glacial sense of chilled passion congeals
the exposure of lonesome secrecy.
The broken wings painfully curled,
can’t fly in the lacerating chill of winter,
enfold the frosted psyche,
fervent warmth freezes unfelt.
Frail emotive candle flame flickers,
the wind of cold abandon blows it out.
Morose mist enwraps the winter nights
within desolate distress innately framed.
The sky of longing falls frozen
on the permafrost of arctic silence,
with the icy torrent of the forlorn heart,
buried deep in the gelid blue of seclusion.
Starlight pierces ebony,
above sculpted shades of white.
And moonbeams soften the scene,
gilding Night, with golden light.
Donning a crystalline dress:
Nature's a picture of grace.
And draped in soft, snowy down:
She's frozen in time and space.
Billions of snowflakes gather
atop branches: where they freeze.
And subtle features get carved:
by the breath of a sharp breeze.
But breezes aren't strong enough,
to dislodge the sticky snow.
And the laden branches bend:
bowing impossibly low.
Cold casts an enchanting spell:
in the throes of Arctic chill.
And silence imbues magic:
to Winter's artistic skill.
from his rock he sends out a deadly summons
that calls
the demons up to hell
that calls
the devils home
a call for the barbarians to answer
a cold wind blows through to a man’s soul
as eternity waits
inside the furnaces fire
and Lucifer sips
upon the dregs of society`s ills
the wake to realities nightmare
of devils and demons living
inside hells fires and brimstones
where the stench of death and suffering
invade the living
and the walking dead
the demons can cage a man
the demons can break a man`s spirit
but they can-not cage a man`s minds escape
an minds escape
upon wings that fly
he dreams of lazing on a sun soaked beach
a drink in hand staring out at a pacific blue
sitting upon golden sands
then he wake from dream
to nightmares reality
of devils and demons
living
side by side inside Hades
living
side by side inside Dante' s fire
where upon the silence dark
a nightmare screams
at the sound of rattling chains and steel iron
at the sound of lashes from fire
that sting upon open flesh
and the empty echoes of the hangman’s call
despair is born out of lost hope
when the demon tighten his grip
his grip around a man’s soul
upon the empty shells the beasts breed
the devils fire burns
as the demon wears the mask of innocent
then walked upon the path of gold
but all he found was burning fires and brimstones
it`s a place where
a whirlpool surrounds when the mighty winds blow
an arctic chill that blows with a haunting sound
whistling
a freight train into lost hearts
across the bay
the devil
comes a calling
On the turning wheel of time seasons come and go,
I feel the typical touch by their fleeting footprints
they make passing by my life, a receptive meadow,
because in their attribute they’re so very distinct,
on nature’s canvas their unique images they print.
I now see the burnt smoky sky getting slowly clear,
in the expanse of cold calmness clumps of clouds roll.
In frozen dawns I feel the chilly touch of the still air
that braces the bushes hearing the winter’s arctic call
to shape a new landscape with barren trees of the fall.
The winter has came riding the sun’s mellow chariot,
laying frost on auburn pastures of autumn wasteland,
brought us the much awaited holidays to enjoy a lot
in the sparkling festivity of the Christmas time grand,
as the children wait to get the gifts from Santa’s hand.
December 17, 2021
Contest : Winter Quintain
Sponsor : Francine Roberts
Revolving season’s ever-changing sensitive facade
dons the new ambiance of hues as nature designs,
autumn’s fiery foliage bursts with mélange of color,
shimmers in the last golden glow as the leaves fall.
They hear the northern wind’s chilled whisper in the air,
as they float on the rhythm of their attuned rustle,
composing the melody of their swan song of winter,
as the sapphire sky is shrouded by seamless grey haze.
Defoliated trees shiver in the frozen waves of arctic wind,
in its stream I see you return to me from the cold.
You melt the miasma enveloping my glacial memory,
enter my old times through the frosted door I open.
I feel the warmth of the winter sun you bring for me,
from behind the fog I see the rise of a new dawn.
As I hold your hands, ecstasy defrosts the memory lane,
my enlivened mind wanders in the winter wonderland.
December 18, 2020
For Contest All Yours (Jan 30) Sponsored by Brian Strand
Tinkle of chime, of time, of blizzard blast.
The kids are off and hope for snow to gush.
The skies are scanned with hopeful overcast.
Return to school where teachers rule and crush?
The teachers lie, they’re paycheck low - want snow.
Attention scowl would pass with gassy clouds.
An arctic blast would cause their cheeks to glow;
Call buses fast, and cheer the plucky crowds.
The tender swirl of flakes, pug noses pressed
against the icy breath of Jack Frost’s muse.
The bump and toss, the smudge of Winter’s zest.
Imaginations clip, as yellows cruise.
Angels, in divine white, do flap each wing.
Their mirthful shake upon the earth’s offspring.