Long Bark Poems

Long Bark Poems. Below are the most popular long Bark by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bark poems by poem length and keyword.


The Cinder of Ella of the Cedars



                      Wood Nymph, wraps white 
gossamer legs in hello, as branch shakes 
in obvious "ka_ching"!
'Oh wait till you see what she does next", 
tattles the tree, in an excited and mischievous 
foreboding.
Itself, a Familiar and Servant, 
hypnotized to carry and present her gift of wrap 
and wrap of gift.
The naughty Nymph O pushes herself halfway up 
like a tired and cautious sloth 
(on the lip of a drinking cup.)
An innocent look beguiles her face 
as essence of bark soils it's digits up,
To stick like a sponge to her curves like a leech 
leeching much. 
Nurses a clamp to her soft skin 
as if to aspire seed of sapling in sap, sapping sin.
As She stares through, impossibly pierced, 
her cruelly clumsy jiggle starks the eye 
in an ultra violence of lumplumpsum.

The forest stirs with whispers of silence, 
gossiper secretions to soil more.
Wood nymph dances careless, 
her story unfolding, merciless amore.
Her web weaving legs, wrapped in ethereal grace, 
licks of
delicate tricks of creature of delicacy.
Surreal ad vise given visa visage 
it's enchanting embrace.

The trees, they giggle with mischievous delight,
as they await her next move, a magical sight.
A familiar servant, the branches extend,
presenting her gifts, their devotion, bend.

Halfway she rises, cautious and slow, oh dear.
Like a tired sloth, uncertain where to go 
but nearer near.
Innocence plays upon her beguiling face,
as she clings to the bark, leaving presiding trace.

A sponge to her curves, the bark holds so tight, 
seeks to crumble there.
Leaving a mark, a visible sign of it's mare.
But she dances on, with a clumsy sway.
A violence of debauchery in a mystical play, 
there there, tears tears tears.
Her presence, it lingers, in the air, a fragrance, 
mimicking the soul bare.

A poem to stir souls, in carom of supernatural 
resonance in crept.
The wood nymph bewitches with every step, 
to numb your penance swept.
Leaving an imprint of memory kept as plum-line erect.

In the depths of the forest, her essence will remain,
a powerful muse, never to wane.
For she is a poet's dream, an excuse so rare, 
relished relic of the gone insane.
Captivated, beyond complain, 
the Satyr's forehead yields sign, pops a vein.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Still a Bit of Bark- not much Bite !!!

I met a man some time ago
who late in age had a very healthy body
But when he opened up his mouth 
his teeth looked rather shoddy

At tender age of five his face was adorned with many bumpy warts
Prescriptions such as creams covered with a nightly full face cotton mask
It would twist around his face, he often felt a long way out of sorts

Finally to a city consultation
prescribing facial radiation
Six weeks in total applied to his dial
mercurochrome a facial paint daily rubbed on
Not much in those days to really make him smile

So many years later probably sixty or so
he discovered radiation affects emerging adult teeth
causes them to crumble it's now what he has to show

A radiographer confirmed what he had read these are the side effects for sure
Arising from this most unnatural cure

Many comments from family and friends alike
about the sight of his unfortunate dental state
Not much affordable able to be done
it's now many years too late

Hope there's not too many more derogatory statements about this mans north and south
That refer once again to the visual components in his mouth

And what is so amazing his teeth don't give him any trouble
no aching no bouts of unwanted pain
If he had his time over could make his own decisions with his knowledge of radiation
it would never happen again

Footnote: this man has recently learnt that the radiation has most likely killed off the nerves hence no pain
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Kama Sutra

she had only asked him to come in for a cup of hot strong coffee
an innocent gesture in her mind maybe an interesting exchange
of thoughts on philosophical matters like love death and existence

yet once they had smoked a first cigarette the smoke clouds parted
like sea waters of Yam Suph in the form of spiritual enlightenment
candles flickered and incense filled the room with sandalwood and musk

serenity and pheromones diffused hardship fear loneliness and inhibition
passionate silence of words merged with quivering lips in fervorous action
and the pulse of their hearts raced in crescendo surely missing a few beats

velvet skin like cinnamon bark feverishly exposed unlimited desire
an immaculate conception of wisdom arose from instantaneous Karma
and twenty years later they still need no picture guide on how to make love

"the clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire" and that meant the world

Where do we go from here

Garbage planet with  hearts broken,
walking death all over trying to prove us wrong,
understand the mind that hates your ideas,
nothing in this silence matters, but voices,
where do we go this isn't just a game,
turnaround and witness these human machines,
cubical on wheels follow your dreams,
broke television from the past, 
hear you own ideas whisper covered lies,
break and protect, forever hide, am i fine,
big ideas and small rocket ships just not enough,
simply just ugly filthy life, greed will feed 
give it all, make it grow, existence potential fall
guard your ideas and look up craters on the moon
something within its darkness 
one day we will all walk and bark like dogs.

Master of Camouflage

In the forest, one I saw
Groping down a tree limb
Trembling like an old man
Dressed in a patchwork robe of
Green, gray, yellow and brown

Its colours were like the bark and leaves of the tree
At a glance, it could have been a cluster of
Yellow, brown and green leaves shaking in the wind
With a slow and deliberate gait
Changing colour at will to match the surrounding

The body gives the appearance of being rather compressed
With a pointed ridge along its back
Large eyeball, fused eyelids
Having only a small opening
Through which it looks for its preys

Shooting out its tongue several inches
Picking off insects with great skills
Lying horizontally in the back of its mouth,
A cone-shaped bone; the point forward

At its base, the long hollow tongue is anchored
Long muscles held the tongue
Pleated with accordion bellows
Compressed around the bone

Turning individually, its turret eyes
Within the range, an insect it spots
Powerfully, the long muscle contracts
And held the tongue over the bone
Like a compressed spring
The tip of the slippery bone tightens
And the tongue shoots out

Stuck on the gluey tip, the insect
Its long, limp tongue, slowly drawn in
Like a baby eating noodles
To see it again, a joy to the sight
This great chameleon!


St Patrick's Day Madness

In me I find a conflict, opposing forces,
the first nurtured by choice, latter by circumstance.
So much love, so much gentleness,
and yet so much rage, so much fervor.

I want to be free of this anger.
I want to not bloody my knuckles,
when I can't turn a key the right way.
I want to not wake a friend late at night,
when I can't figure myself out.

I want to do all this, and yet I revel
in the anger and in the power;
in the rush it brings;
in hitting something for once;
in a maddened, violent release.

I want to use it the way I used to.
I want it to be for defense,
to fight back, to help, to stand.
I want it to be for the bark and the bite,
towards hate to be directed and plied.

I want my shoulders to be free,
of the devil whispering for its release;
of my demons screaming for theirs;
of the claw marks of their successes at digging in;
of the weight of carrying them all.

Alas, what we choose is not given to us.
Only two things are given to us:
surprises, for good or ill,
and the chance to meet them, to face them.

Which Are You 1

Are you the DISEASE,
Or the CURE?
  Are you POLLUTED,
Or PURE?
  
  Are you FREE,
Or in JAIL?
  Are you HEAVEN,
Or HELL?

 Are you a GIVER,
Or TAKER?
  Are you a MOVER,
Or SHAKER?

  Are you a LOVER,
Or FIGHTER?
  Are you to BED EARLY,
Or an ALL-NIGHTER?
  
  Are you LOUD,
Or QUIET?
  Are you the PIE,
Or the DIET?

  Are you the LIGHT,
Or DARK?
  Are you the BITE,
Or the BARK?

  Are you REAL,
Or FAKE?
  Are you FIX,
Or BRAKE?
  
  Are you WET,
Or DRY?
  Are you SOBER,
Or HIGH?

  Are you SOFT,
Or HARD?
  Are you RELAXED,
Or on GUARD?

  Are you the WATER,
Or FIRE?
  Are you HONEST,
Or a LIAR?

  Turbo1904 ?
Form: Rhyme

three howling sisters

the youngest sister has the dullest teeth.
she is full of youth,
yet walks about like a dead person.
she knows this.
if she feels nothing,
then why does she shake?

the middle sister has the loudest bark.
she stays up late by the back door,
howling for scraps of recognition.
she talks to herself and lies,
yet her reflection passes by
and she can’t spare a glimpse.

the oldest sister has the sharpest fangs.
she suffers from the violence
of her emotion.
she is beautiful, and full of love.
she is dying too, 
and she does not seem to care.

when morning comes, 
their flesh will rot away their anger
and leave soft bone in its place.
they will sink into the earth,
and grow back as flowers
that are gentler than their rage.

Premium Member First Poem In a Year

First Poem in a Year

Are  we crazy, or what?
Are we so special that we think the whole universe revolves around us?
Are we so cocksure that all this killing in the streets
Is just a normal part of life and living?
I turn my head away. "I don't want to see it"

“Move your mind to the throbbing compass.
Move your heart to the backward-turning wheel.
Take four steps to the side.
Take three more steps to the rear!
And take three of these to offset the other two.”

I take no responsibility!
I plead not guilty if it pleases the court!
I seek no regress of grievances!
Hey, I’m cool!
But the fools on the hills bark
Like sad hounds into a silent starless night.
They have had their tongues cut out!
The poets of the mountains have lost their bellowing voices!
The dead of a thousand graveyards have begun to awaken!
And the light of a million stars have begun to fade!

"The blackness has set in for this day, tomorrow and the next!"

My friends, now the skyhawks pitch their spreading wings in earnest!
My friends, they know the answers to a thousand unasked questions.

“Are you saying something to me?”
“Are you saying nothing to me?”
 “Say nothing. Don’t say something.” 
“Say nothing as you say something.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying because 
I’m lost in this crazy world,
This bumbling drunken beast of injustice and…”
“Are you saying something to me?”

Premium Member Poetry and we have roots like an ancient tree

Poetry and we have roots like an ancient tree,
Deeply embedded in the mysterious soil of time,
Each verse, a branch reaching towards unknown heavens,
Seeking divine light, yearning to touch eternity.
Under the canopy of night, our leaves rustle like whispers of stars,
Each word, a leaf of unspoken desires and dreams,
Poetry flows through our veins like magical sap,
Nourishing our souls with the essence of the world beyond.
The subtle roots intertwine with forgotten memories of ages past,
Through invisible layers of time, through layers of silence and light,
Each branch, a story engraved on the bark of our hearts,
Our flowers bloom in verses, a mix of eternal joy and melancholy.
In the wind of the night, poetry and we dance like a tree of mysteries,
With a strong trunk, we withstand ancient storms and pain,
Our roots bind us to sacred earth, to the unseen realm,
And the leaves carry our song to hidden skies.
Each poem, a call to the secret light of infinity,
In a melancholic symphony, our roots deepen in enigmas,
Through the shadows of night, we seek answers under the enigmatic moonlight,
A tree of poetry, bound to the soul, dreaming endlessly of eternity.
Poetry and we are one, a sacred tree in the garden of the universe,
Our branches stretch towards guiding stars, eager for sacred knowledge,
In our poetic roots, we find the essence of the unknown,
And thus, in our mystical melancholy, we weave our destinies with immortal words.
Under the starry rain, our roots nourish from the essence of the cosmos,
Each drop of light brings verses entwined in eternity,
Poetry and we, a tree singing its quiet, profound melody,
And in this mystical dance, we find our way to the light of the eternal present.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

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