Long Blanched Poems
Long Blanched Poems. Below are the most popular long Blanched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blanched poems by poem length and keyword.
They say….
She comes,
When gusts of wind whistle and boom
And the boughs of trees shake and rattle
When the lilts of a doleful song
Come floating through the desert air
And waves on waves of enticing strain
Percolate through the silent gloom
When all at once a foggy mist
Blurs the sight and wraps the Earth
They say….
She comes,
Gliding from the southern wild
Out from a mysterious hide
With a heady perfume swooning the sense
Her white dress trailing the dust
Her wavy hair lying loose
Her rolling eyes glistening bright
Weaving around a weird air
And casting out a magic spell
They say...
Enslaved within a castle desolate
Forewarned not to roam in day light
She sets out on her nocturnal round
When the whole world has gone to sleep
She paces vagrant up the wild
Until dawn breaks and Sirius wanes
With fire glowing in her veins
And madness burning in her brain
So weary………so forlorn,
She roams under a starless sky
Stealing away on moon blanched nights
Never casting a shadow behind
Never touching her feet on ground
They say…
Owls hoot and wolves howl
Beasts wail and palm fronds rustle
Setting the world on throes of fear
And making the men shudder in terror
Paranormal Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Robert James Liguori
Shuttered birds flutter from balmy bough
Shedding feathery cloak that winter's chill did endow
Fueling grounded wings with solar beams
Pairing together in reconnoitering teams
Scouting hill and dale, Spring's contraband to glean
Garnishing their bunkers with bristling thigs and thatched screen
Prating loudly in fecund court; feathers carefully preen
In rhapsodic chorus their prancing feet to and fro careen
Dancing in harmony; their mating anthem rings
Matriarch's incubating wings over fertile plaster clings
In due course, waddling, furry chicks from each blanched shell springs
Frugal pilots navigate their sparsely furnished compound
Probing each nook; scouring each mound
Pulse and liquids their drills and talons impound
With nutritious cargo in tow homeward bound
Returning to nursery, satiating each bleating sound
Flood of anonymous agony
inundates the debris of hope,
weed-webbed wasteland
of receding reverie
erodes in delirium
within turbulent essence,
wreckage of life piles up,
unlived,
transforms rapture garden
into winter badland
of foreboding discontent,
perceived.
Future meadow waits
to be sauntered
sanguine,
invents fantasy alchemy,
making magical gold
from ferrous aspirations,
gilding rusted crust
of weathering present,
metamorphosed,
marigold ecstasy blooms
in the Midas-touched mind,
mesmerized.
Wrapped by golden rays
of garnet sun,
setting sublime
beyond the content ocean,
entranced mind rolls
in twilight zone
on sapphire life waves,
broken,
yearning psyche is drawn
within the anguish trough,
crashes on existential shore,
shaped by the shadow
of pearlescent past,
petrified
in the collapsed sandcastle
on the beleaguered beach
of the stilled time,
enfolding the blanched grains
of aureate dreams,
d i s i n t e g r a t e d…..
'Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians! (gasp)
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing (wink)
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa's sissy endowings!
" Imagine a place where there is beauty, bliss and plentifulness for all. It is nothing short of utopia. Though we are far from realizing it, isn't it thrilling to imagine a version of the world different from the existing one where all disparities will be leveled and happiness and freedom are made the birthright of all? Now such a world is enshrouded in mist. But who can say it won't emerge suddenly from the blue in some distant future"- By Poet
Though, utopia is merely an illusion,
Or a chimera born in the womb of our whims,
I shall take you to a near-utopian land,
Where, peace and beauty blossom like the cherry in spring
And trees grow like the cedars of Lebanon.
Come on, my Love! Let us move to that land,
Where the sun resurrects anew,
Where darkness gives way to light,
And life renews itself every morning.
It is our dreamland paradise or interim utopia.
Let us go into that Garden of Delight.
Look to the East, my love, beyond those crooked hills,
Where poplars grow tall in line
And a gentle breeze susurrates through the foliage of leaves
And wild weeds hem the edges of pathways,
Where bunnies and squirrels hop and jump
And run around whistling bamboo reeds,
Where the laughing cataract leaps down from the rocks
And flow along in silvery rills
Where the languorous breeze plays upon the leaves.
This place has all the beauty and bliss of utopia.
Away from the tumult, far from the bustling crowd
With the pandemonium of the world hushed to serene silence
Let us walk together to that sequestered glade,
Where we shall sit by the side of a rustling stream
And dance across the flowery meadows.
In this place of perennial greenery and sunlit groves
We shall walk hands locked and hearts singing as one,
Till the bright day gives way to a dusky night,
Inhaling night air in scented perfume.
Under the stillness of a star-spangled sky, we shall roam,
Through moon-blanched woods, enigmatic and mysterious
Listening to the sweet whisperings of our soul
And ‘drinking life to the lees’ from the chalice of love
Oh! Come on, let us not tarry….
Let’s move fast to that Utopia!
They enter the strip
joint like the last
flurrie of flakes.
She hears the music,
hears the voice of the
D.J. Wind, enters on cue.
Her cold poles await her
as she moves to the beat.
One south, one north.
She works them both.
They call her Storm
she is the feature act.
Drawing her minions
in for months now.
Quickly the starkness of ivory
starts to melt off her body.
The long blanched gloves
covered those particular
patches are the first to go
revealing the fresh lustre of
bare skin once again exposed.
Sexy,
she's a professional!
She stares out
noticing the skeletal
frames once only
shadows,
now with a glimmer
of light.
She knows her time
is short now
feels a hint
of life in her
domain of
dead stares.
Hears sounds
that are telling.
Was that really a chirp
or just a whistle?
The pulse of warmth starts
to pump through her veins.
Now her shiny robe
falls to the ground and
you can sense the smell
of want in the air.
The flow of liquids
previously frozen stiff.
Storm the stripper
slowly teases the crowd.
Down to her Victoria Secret
garb she tugs at our groins
knowing her audience craves
more.
In this case that also
means less.
I personally will miss her
in this present form.
Her tidy white lingerie
against her tanned skin.
Covered peaks,
rounded mounds.
You just want to
ride up, and maneuver
your way down.
The timing is wrong.
I know she will strip bare
as first the top goes then
down to a G-String of snow.
Naked,
winter stands
in front of me.
She will meander a bit
shake with a breeze
of perfumed cold.
Slide onto the floor as she undulates
with her come ons that near a finality.
She saunters off the stage
and me I watch winter's end.
Spring, on winter's barren
ground starts to peek from
around the curtain,
with her touch of green.
Warm breezes.
Her array of pastel colors.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Winter has left the building,
Spring is here!
01~19~2015
Sponsor: SKAT A
Contest: Winters End
This curse has chased him for eternity,
He smashes his mirror so he cant see
He sits alone and howls at the distant moon,
Transformation is coming soon
Waiting on a naive morsel to pass his way,
He now must feed before break of day
He rues the day of his vile creation
Another damned soul in a souless nation.
He bites himself just to savor the blood in his teeth,
The monster rises somewhere from the dark beneath,
There is no doubt he must feed
Its not lust or greed
Just a hellhounds need
He wakes naked in a field blanched by
morning sun,
Surveying atrocities he has done
This full moons sacrifice lay next to him
Another carcass ravaged on a whim
Back in human form he wretches at his state,
Each passing day is a darker fate.
Running with the pack in the nights ebb and flow,
He prays for the silver bullet before he wakes up next to someone he knows.
*Image of Patronus by Wizarding World
The White Doe and The River Of Life
Comes a white doe, quaint sight a wandering,
Murmurs, her head swerves about, hesitates,
A snow owl offering sky, pondering,
Nibble's green herbs with care then elevates,
Hooves paves a path, my blue being, surges clear,
Alert nose take air, head bent back, above,
Unaware, her head drops, tickles my sphere,
Cast her spot of me, blanched soul feel her shove,
Tempt, I tide my being, yet pursuit was keen,
The full breadth of her trots to my chilled beat,
She alights her weight to level her being,
Trots to shore, genteel flow, dares to repeat,
Perchance another day of challenging,
Comes a white doe, quaint sight a wandering.
2019 May 12
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS(JUN 8)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 June 08
I lost my ability to think for myself
As I sat atop the Church of Santa Maria de Idris
Carved into the cliffside while I sat sewn into its ridges
I had spent the former sun’s passage wandering the City of Stones
The hours loosened themselves as I passed beneath canopies of trailing vines
Draped over blanched bricks steeped
In shades of beige-and-brown-and-orange-and-grey
Vestiges of the past worn
Down each wall, each path
Woodwinds whistle and beckon me from the distance
But my anticipation allows no acquittance
I remain doggedly beholden to
The eventual night that promised to keep me alone
I lie in the sky yet remain fastened to the earth
My back chiseled by the jagged rock I chose as my resting place
My head suspended beyond its edge
So that the stars sleep beneath me and the city
Yellowed by the languor of its dim-lit paths
Hangs in the balance of our sweet nothingness
Zig-zagging-every-which-way
Like an I Spy book brought suddenly to life
Can you spot the soul in a world you know possesses none?
I speak of this not with any great anguish
But with a peculiar sense of contentment
One that has itself become the source of my gravest grief
For its mere existence renders mine worthless
I strain to reach into the dimness of memory
I blacken my mind to conjure my darkest fears
I even invite you into my mind
Dressed in every shade of my maladjustment
But none can hold a candle to the sight that lies before me
Along with the sharp ache impressed on my back
For the first time, physicality exceeds my once-thought-bottomless-imagination
And my mind affords me no liberation
Though I have always sought after some chimerical escape
Only here do I realize that such elusion is but another passage through delusion
And not the good kind
The kind that leaves me feeling childish and naive
As though in leaving I had mistaken distance for transcendence
Believing myself to be rising above it all
When all along I had been looking at the whole world upside down
Sole say I, What wouldst be the reasoning?
Murmurs, her head swerves about, hesitates,
nibbles green herbs with care then elevates.
Cautious white doe, quaint sight a wandering.
Alert nose takes air, head bent back, above.
Hooves pave a path, being blue, surges clear.
Unaware, her head drops, tickles my sphere,
casts her spot of me, blanched soul feels her shove.
She lights her weight to level her being,
the full breadth of her trots to my chilled beat,
trots to shore, genteel flow, dares to repeat.
Tempted, being tide, yet pursuit was keen,
Perchance another day of challenging,
Goes a white doe, faint glimpse a wondering.