Long Aslant Poems
Long Aslant Poems. Below are the most popular long Aslant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aslant poems by poem length and keyword.
FOLK DANCE DWM
Attended Summer Camp at high school level
A happy happening, I would like to tell.
We assembled in remote suburb
where all quiet, nothing to disturb.
At the Fair met a rural Folk Dance team
Got interested on their cheerful theme.
The group consisted of young villagers.
We were enthusiastic teenagers.
Music started perchance.
"Dance Dear Dance
Don’t miss chance
Cast aslant glance
on spectators!
Spectacular show
in glamorous glow
Perhaps fast or slow.
We are entertainers
Not dictators!"
Village guys with multi colored attire
Lyrics seemed to be type of satire.
Girls wearing olive green glossy gown
with periwinkle flowery crown.
We dressed in Jeans and Tops wearing hay hats,
trying to match with close by wide paddy field.
Joined them prompt: Our pearly passion to yield.
Danced delight in rhythm on steps exact.
Two dances were combined.
Folk Dance -Ball Dance entwined.
A choreography of modern and rural style,
proclaiming a novel dance profile.
Feral flora foliage swinging in gentle breeze.
Our pleasure neither to measure nor to cease.
Little brittle ripples dancing on mossy pond
Haply our short trip enjoyed friendship bond.
03/21/20
Kim Rodrigues DWM Contest
There is a need for quietness today,
time drapes itself in velvet curtains.
I must move aslant if anywhere needs
to be somewhere.
I listen to my neighbors toilet flush,
It takes a long time for the sound
to drain away and refill
and I dream between that rise and fall.
There is space for listening dreams,
the trash compactor chews on longer,
when I switch it off
bellows breathe in and out
yesterdays hurried meal
speaks on, moments explore
newly opened pocket.
This is not silence
yet sounds move upon carpet slippers,
not muffled
but heightened by being
more awake
to a lower registry of depth.
I guess it is I
who creates this lengthening,
this processional unwinding of
of unremarkable seconds,
yet the distance between them explodes
into acronyms,
labels
for each
eavesdropping deliverance.
The garden abounds flowers tumbling down
from the trellis roses sweetly scented
delicate pots strewn with colourful crown
groaning tables are with flowers crested
Plates filled with delicacies await
vol-au-vents and laden pastries sit
hungry mouths will eat and evaluate
leaving behind scattered crumbs of wit
Romances will flourish under the hot sun
dalliance or two with consequences
that appear in nine months to the ton
causing aslant glances at the lapses
Still the flowers bloom with vibrancy
colourful petals gleam all waxy
written 06/24/2014
contest Garden Party
footnote
Ton is another word for people from the nobility
ie lords, earls and ladies
You want to know its merits?
Very well, then. Daylight slants
deliciously across the boy's
inclined, thoughtful face.
His lace collar, crumpled,
houses valleys of shadow.
Or what about the Water Seller?
Look at that poncho's warm
woven woollen texture:
and isn't the rip in the shoulder fun?
And the dimples on the pot!
They scream "potness" at us.
Or the beads of water
clinging to the larger vessel,
whose horizontal striations
practically smell
of the potter's wheel.
But oh, that drinking-glass!
Does it seem possible to you
that unctuous oils and minerals
of earth, gouged from the soil,
can render the ethereal soul of glass?
It was a winter afternoon.
I'd gone along to the gallery
on the off-chance.
Standing before this marvel,
I found myself entranced.
But even as I gazed, the sun
(though never very confident in London)
stepped out coyly from behind a cloud.
Duck's-egg orange light, resplendent,
now fell aslant the canvas.
Surely this was harmful?
Sunlight bleaches (does it not?)
the colour out of things.
Alarm bells should be ringing.
I summoned a uniform attendant.
He nodded sagely as I explained
- but did nothing.
Why should he care?
Minimum wage is no great motivator.
An hour from now,
he'd be hanging up that peaked cap,
and be a person until Monday.
No point in bursting
a blood-vessel
over a silly painting. Later.
But I couldn't leave it.
If I stood just thus,
my human frame was just enough
to block the sun.
One little skirmish could be won
if I remained here
until the sun’s trajectory was done,
or the gallery closed,
whichever came the sooner.
So I did. On tip-toe,
spine inclined, quiet,
I crowded out the light of day
for more than an hour.
Pointless, you say.
I can't deny it.
The very next day,
And each subsequent foray
of Phoebus would
merely recreate the problem.
That's hardly the point.
Finding myself there,
I beat my ploughshare
into a sword and,
for that tiny slice of time,
I made the sacrifice,
bore the quizzical looks
with equanimity, quirky,
standing like a turkey
on tenterhooks
and saved the painting.
SILENT TEARDROPS
Silent teardrop, inert,
made a sudden stop.
Sparkled, became alert.
Ready to gallop.
Teardrops rolling silent
You cast a glance aslant.
Nascent crescent descent,
appealed to enchant.
Silent teardrops restless,
slipped, sliding on cheek.
Teardrops pearly peerless,
whelmed me, felt sick.
Pinkish passion bubbling,
sending ardent urge.
Crimson desire wobbling,
Our love to converge.
02/25/18
Particles of ice dust, high in the atmosphere
Surrounded by vapor, condensing on it’s skin
More and more, they coalesce together
Forming rain clouds, of tiny droplets within.
Growing heavier, reaching saturation point,
Impossible to defy, gravity’s taking over,
Falling from skies, in critical mass formation
Turning into a mist, drizzle starts to pour.
Running for cover, not wanting to get soaked
Standing in a doorway, but shelter is scant
Coming down sideways, I finally surrender
Drenched to the bone, keeps blowing aslant.
Puddles fill up, turning roads into rivers
Gutters overflow, creating makeshift streams
Big lorry races by, causing a tidal wave
Gone beyond caring, don’t bother to scream.
Kicking high water, all along the footpath
Perhaps I’m actually, standing in the sea
Almighty flash, then terrific roar of thunder
Oh give me a fishing rod, catch my own tea.
By
David Kavanagh
Tea English = afternoon meal
Soft day Ireland = heavy saturating drizzle
TEARDROP
Fast I was passing on my ways
Cast silently a glance aslant.
Past present future all made pause.
Last look on teardrop to enchant.
Tear rolling on your cheek and chin
Here I got stunned in dilemma.
Cheer up please, oh my fair fairy.
Dear! Me whelmed in your charisma.
Lure of your charm mesmerized me
Your sorrowful face made a frown.
Pure was your ethereal look
Sure, me sinking about to drown.
Met you by grace of destiny.
Let fate unite us: Great favor.
Wet eyes sent me divine message.
Get along with me for ever.
Ache in my heart, passion oozing
Break silence, amour not to die.
Take my hand to your hand, I plead.
Make our love to fly soaring high.
02/01/20
Third Place
'Writing Prompt,Let's Write a Lento' Contest by Dear Heart
IN ZEST AND ZEAL
Be positive, not negative.
Go active: Fittest to survive.
Never turn stagnant or static.
Run dynamic, optimistic.
Interact bold to act with tact.
Self- dependence is strongest fact.
Busy life not in indolence.
Easy throw gaining confidence.
Dance delight casting aslant glance
Frolic freelance, not to miss chance.
With zest and zeal, always in thrill.
Work ceaseless, desires to fulfill.
Head erect, mind pure, brain directs
Respect Morals and let dictate.
Be precise, something to surmise.
Success in progress: No surprise.
03/19/20
Natural
Went at stream strand to watch twilight ! The Sun went down. Started walk back to
home. Darkness to embower soon, peeping crescent Moon.Evening merging to night.
Too much tired was my feet.Hankering for car lift. Noticed headlights of a car
approaching from back. I stood getting no option. Car in slow motion. No response,
though showed hand. Seemed useless , just to stand. Pulled car-door: I preferred.
and hurriedly I entered. Got stunned, looked aslant. Driver seat was vacant. Car went
as usual, but in slow walking speed. Got puzzled, but what to do ? Ghost driver ! No
clue. Suddenly car hit bump. Promptly I made a jump. Man behind car came out.
He was pushing : No doubt.
Visual
Went at stream strand to watch
twilight ! The Sun went down.
Started walk back to home.
7 Darkness to embower soon,
5 peeping crescent Moon.
Evening merging to night.
Too much tired was my feet
hankering for car lift.
Noticed headlights of a car.
5 approaching from back.
7 I stood getting no option.
5 Car in slow motion.
No response, though showed hand.
Seemed useless , just to stand.
Pulled car-door: I preferred.
and hurriedly I entered.
Got stunned, looked aslant.
Driver seat was vacant.
Car went as usual,
but in slow walking speed.
7 Got puzzled, but what to do ?
5 Ghost driver ! No clue.
Suddenly car hit bump.
Promptly I made a jump.
Man behind car came out.
He was pushing : No doubt.
Flat pack Wobbler
Procured from mega shop, a straight-lined box amid a cardboard wall
Where jig saw chattels rise above the queues of flatbed wheelies
And underarm catalogues patterned with an iconic list of what they are
When the blocks are sequenced and affixed with laborious strife
A transformation takes place that gives the pack new form herewith
Long live the flat pack table and its tedious sway in frail chipboard
Seated upon upon a quartet of nailed on props that creak objection
It takes its varnished place in harmony with four bolted chairs that match
And for a while it serves to hold the plates and cutlery just grand
Until the careless etch of scratches weave marring patterns on its top
Forever to remain as though a work of scribbled art and wrinkled mess
No longer wavelets in the soup, a tidal wave is now the norm when the legs teeter
Today the food’s aslant and the drinks decide to slide and slither to the floor
The props have given way, they’re tired and now submit to glory
And the table returns again to flat pack with eternal gratitude
quartet of props