Long Artesian Poems
Long Artesian Poems. Below are the most popular long Artesian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Artesian poems by poem length and keyword.
Dreams of the Shaman
David J Walker
It was the Prairie version of Eden
In the evening light
Awaiting the day exposing the
Cover of Buffalo Grass
Its flag-like banners of male flower
Flying in the morning dew
Guarding the female blooms
Hidden amongst the leaves
Rounded and burr-like but not spiny
The fauna is dense but unseen
Prairie Dogs bark out warnings to the
Burrowing Owls competing with foxes
hunting field mice
Cougars patrol the canyons for
Passing Elk following the water
Wolves stalk Bison
Claiming the lame,
the young, and the old
Tens of thousands of Sunrise pass
Before Adam arrives with his Eve
Abiding in the canyons of Artesian Springs
Living in harmony off the land
Awaiting the changes in the
Dreams of the shaman
Alone upon the bench he perched, blue eyes locked in hollow stare,
Like almonds long since plunged to earth, with little flourish or fanfare.
A look of depth—an Artesian well, into which one could fall for days,
Storied eyes of labors, and battles won, and fatherhood to those he’d raised.
Our eyes became fixed across the way, the distance abridged by our pierce,
For a second I saw deep into this man, as he tugged on a smoke something fierce.
Now calm overtook as our eyes parted ways, in a flash the connection was gone,
Yet my interest remained in this man with blue eyes, that told tales to which I was drawn.
Approaching I asked if he’d mind if I snapped, a photo or two in repose,
Smirking, his eyes took a skyward glance, suggesting dismay juxtaposed.
Back in my studio excited I sketched, this face that was grizzled and wise,
Watercolor splashes brought him to life, through the character of his captivating blue eyes.
This is not a tale, my friends, this is as true as the truths,
Could I say, it's the pathos of, a pair of insane youths?
Aftab Poonewala, the boy; Shraddha Walkar, the girl,
Both 'lived-in' long relationships and pleasures seemed to curl.
Did neighbors know the couple's inside world? God alone knows,
Everything seemed like cream on Christmas cakes, the story goes.
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Quarrels erupted betwixt them like sudden volcanoes,
These are, often, extinguished, yet, as sounds of pianos.
Marriage used to be the talk sometimes; or fidelity;
Fighting tooth and nail, they slept as though in enmity.
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As the days went by, Shraddha Walkar was not seen around,
Aftab Poonewala was, often, with other girls, found.
When genuine doubts mounted like the highest of mountains,
Aftab found the truths splashing out like Artesian fountains.
Having been cornered, his crime of murder Aftab confessed,
Revealed, truth after truth, having, by authorities, pressed.
Sliced her into thirty-five pieces; kept them in the fridge.
Threw one piece per night, into a ridge past the jungle bridge.
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New truths are unfolded each day like petals of new blooms,
As and when the law, on its vivacious spheres, justly zooms...!!!
(This report is filed by ANI news service. India. The legal suit is on)
15 February 2023
Acquaintance and Neighborhood Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Amaury Guichon never does anything common, small, ordinary or usual.
A creative artesian who thoroughly thinks designs through before he begins.
His craft is chocolatier, and his inventions are phenomenal.
Whimsical, wonderful, wild masterpieces others do not visualize or imagine.
He conjures up elixirs and creations others do not see in their dream states.
A harp? Sure. Rabbit sitting on a stove?
Why not? Pirate ship being devoured by sea monster.
That sounds like a fantastic challenge!
Birdcage? I can have one finished in two hours.
Fiddler cat, barnacle, dragon, pagoda, peacock, butterfly, clock.
I don’t see why not.
Amaury Guichon’s chocolate confections are edible,
but after you receive one who could eat it?
They are works of art of the highest caliber.
Hey! Stop that!
Grandchildren do not understand.
LEAVE THAT ALONE!
Most beautiful creature I had ever seen
More gorgeous than ebony pumas or wild wolves
I was fascinated, and intimidated; she was the Sheila.
There was danger in knowing her.
She was the ultimate circus star; a performer.
An artesian, her traveling RV was full of hand painted beauty.
The Sheila would have travelled easily in a gypsy wagon,
except the circus manager would not tolerate it.
I think they used to be married.
She was Bohemian, confident, a woman of truth.
Her beauty astounded and confounded us.
The Sheila could do every job in the circus, and she did.
She tamed the lions and sometimes swung from a trapeze.
She was stunning; mysterious and beautiful.
It was more than enough to wow me.
Form:
Bloom or bouquet or bunch or bare brief buttonhole,
Fresh or full-blown or nosegay or fresh posy role;
Flowers blossom in saucy slimy silkiness,
Seek them to be the same, is senile silliness.
Red-necked Tanager cannot be Mandarin duck,
Let blue-crowned pigeon be not a Cock-of-the-rock;
Why should Sloth bear resemble the Asian lion,
Blue bull and blackbuck be of their sacred scion...
Why should violate violet from the Rainbow?
Why should waters of rivers always in green flow?
Why should be a dragonfly, like a firefly glow?
Why should bright tigers, like monkeys, gloomy fur grow?
Do not say she's fair; her eyes cattish; hair golden,
Vein greenish; Blood-red; Heart dull or tiger-Bolden;
He is chocolate; Great! What a coco-color!
Cut flesh is whitish! Blood like hers! Physique Splendor!
Sands of sea-shores have so finely shining colors,
Stars have strange colors - flying like royal mullers;
Gardens, Parks, Forests, deserts, coastally global
Each filled with colors sublime fantastic, noble...
Yes, the cosmos is a kaleidoscope. Accept!
Everyone's a unique color in it. Respect!
Kaleidoscopic color, like Artesian, springs,
It's in this kaleidoscope our existence swings.
21 August 2021
Kaleidoscope Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke