Long Bonnets Poems
Long Bonnets Poems. Below are the most popular long Bonnets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bonnets poems by poem length and keyword.
Clutter of echoing chirpings up my sylvan irreverent tune
detaching reckless realities carefully sewn above a sovereign moon
Velvet violin tunes arose to a bittersweet string of polyester prattle sorrows
1 2 3 4 5
afar wraith paths of escape
Timelessly stretching through thicket aroused breaths aloof stones
soft spoken soughing of a enigma fauna painted into woodland bones
Myrth crystal waves lost on the ledge of sequel crayons of tattle tomorrows
6 7 8 9 10
I enter the way
Stargazing Ichiko's hymns on the coddling abyssal of my reverie train
enter the arcane painted depths of my esoteric paint though celestial rains
Wine bonnets drunken on overdosed fabricated ebullient sunshine rays
11 12 13 14 15
I exit tolling doom
If a moon veiled aethereal heart would dare to venture runic gossamers
Exit hurricanes of eldritch swirls on a nostalgic chimerical polished casimire
Heathen tartaned nova deer in bountiful fruit baskets of wolves astray
16 17 18 19
entering celestial crypts
Tired realities howl through a seraphic talismanic engaging bracken shield
I see now what lies across verdant sunlight flickering Swiss Lyn orchard fields
Peach kisses upon a soft freckled hand through sibilant hushed vineyards
20 21 22 23 24 25
I remain
Humming as she arranges an assortment of biscuits
On pastel green plates,
(Viennese waltz)
Beryl checks the clock ticking softly, three thirty,
“Come along, Shannon”,
Her young charge steps in alongside her
As Beryl works the care home rooms.
Teas and coffees, counterclockwise,
In the waltz of the afternoon tea trolley.
Beryl choreographs and guides as they go,
“Now, remember Reenie is partial
to the vintage charm of a custard cream,
Whereas Doris will go for a fig roll –
Sturdy with a hidden sweetness,
That surprises,
And Edie will tell you her stories twice -
Will want for the Twix.”
Shannon pours teas into proper cups with proper saucers
As they glide over to Ballroom Blanche,
“Danced through life haven't you, love”,
Beryl adds in whisper,
“Blanche can seem a bit crisp around the edges,
But she's really quite a softee – sweet,
She leans to Viennese whirl”.
Shannon adds two sugars,
Twirls the spoon in the cup
As she hands silent Marjorie
in her beige cardy,
A malted milk.
They reverse turn to the sun filled lounge.
Jammy dodgers with heart-shaped windows
Are shared by Norma and Dierdre
Receiving bouquets of babbies in bonnets,
Children gathered
to see their great nannies.
And by the window looking out,
Connie,
For whom standards never slip,
In wig, pearls, red lip,
Takes the Florentine of glamour.
Young Shannon turns in awe to Beryl asking,
“How do you remember who has what?”
Beryl smiles, and with mock curtsy,
She blushes
“What am I to say?
It's like I have a gift.”
Easter isn't about a bunny
Who brings baskets filled with sweets.
Nor is it about the colored eggs we hide,
Though for kids it is a treat.
Easter is not about new frilly dresses,
Bonnets or new suits for little boys.
Although it's nice to have such things,
Easter's not about sweets, clothes or toys.
No, Easter isn't about a bunny,
And it's not about new clothes.
It's all about the Lamb of God,
Who was slain and then arose.
Easter is about our Savior,
Who paid sin's awful price,
A debt we could have never paid -
Only His blood would suffice.
On Easter we celebrate Jesus.
He is risen, our Savior lives!
He left behind an empty tomb,
Let us rejoice in the hope He gives.
4/14/22
On spewing wave, our departing ride
Crazed currents crack, an azure slide
Freedom mingles in sea foam seethe
Cobra throat coast gulps river relieve
Estuary entry rests, rushing ruthless
Canoe oar dip downtempo soothe us
Convulsing closing, seen from stern
To mayhem mouth we shan’t return
Silver silt filters salt, lake lap littoral
Ranges ahead etch graduating blues
Drift beside reeds, bird pews hymnal
Harp strum seraphim strike chords
Nacreous nematodes writhe towards
Tiny sun centre lace tutus feverfew
Pirouette pirogue wet on dawn dew
Papery apron snapdragon bonnets
Bloom ten a stem syllable sonnets
Cut log capsule covets its heritage
Forested foothills fix ship wreckage
Fir hands welcome hung hammock
Cosy ocean recoil, mountains titanic
Sixth of November
- upstream -
This may seem a vacuous subject upon which to muse,
But ain't it amazin' the myriad of hats from which to choose?
Browsin' through the haberdashery or millinery shop in town,
You're bound to find the perfect lid to place upon your crown!
There is everything from snoods to keep the ladies' hair in place,
To fanciful bonnets trimmed with flowers, ribbons and lace.
Even pert veiled chapeaus appropriate for crumpets and tea,
For society dames as they balance cup and saucer on the knee!
For the sportin' bloke there's a selection of deerstalker caps,
And a vast array of domed derbys for the more debonair chaps.
Available for the dapper gentleman is quite a plethora,
Of the ever-popular, colorful and rakish felt fedora!
A cowpoke can select a ten-gallon Stetson to match his boots,
Makin' a fashion statement among his feller galoots.
For summer, the discriminatin' gent can opt for a Panama,
Or choose a flat-topped skimmer or boater made of straw!
Berets are obtainable for guys wishin' a military mien,
And a jaunty Alpine hat is available called a tyrolean.
But classy hats aside, no matter whether lass or lad,
Seems that wearing a baseball cap (backwards) is the latest fad!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
~
Winter breathes in sepia tones along a lonely two lane street
divided amongst the sweeping frozen dunes
now forced into shouldered amnesty
Street lights shiver in snowcapped bonnets
while sidewalks sleep ‘neath blankets of flittering flakes
The air, frigidly crisp…moves of tiny chiffon sparkles dancing
Rooftops, plump and soft, show off their frosted padding
as evergreens find alabaster fingers tickling their branches
in chilled teasings and frozen dustings
Footprints, once there are gone, covered and recovered again
all evidence of life is erased beneath pearl clouded skies
and faint outlines of distant thoughts
White on black stripes drape in glacial wanderings
spanning the slush of asphalt weavings
in straight line piercings across the wintry landscape
January reigns brutal, subzero ponderings swirl
from high above the icebox wasteland, once brimming with color
now opaque in its arctic seasoned disguise…
~
Written from memory…no winter here. : )
~Chasing Bigfoot~
Across the Bayou Waters
Into vast trails of wilderness
I follow a sound, a sullen scent
---footprints
He was out there,
hairy large and in charge
Drugs under the beastly moonlight
Heavy torrents swept me in
Deep, down and dark
Under a hidden den
Between the moon and stars
I gaze into a world unknown
A comparison of salt water and bonnets
Lord of the forest deep
Entrapped in a romantic secret sonnet
Over the corner in every shadow
Red Auburn hair, above a 12 foot pair
Daring to face the lone gallows
In one peek
I observe it was not made by men
The fear became excitement
It offered a moment to think
I don't know if it wants to injure me
It sniffs me repeatedly,
Smearing my skin with his nose
This type of behavior, this smell
Began to arouse my rose
Rough nails grip around my neck
Forest flavored lips
Unravelling a taste unhuman
The touch erupts and fills me with fear
Still, I long to linger near
Sunrise starts with a grin
Revolving around the mood
Upon his long coat of shrooms
Without fear I stroke his thick fur
Rough and sweet I repeat
Living or dying, I stay
To love the fear-driven inside
Day after day
Deep and gray, life fades
Then becomes elusive
11 years the sun hides
Dark eyes, hold me all night
This wild man, by the bedside
Cries from the woods before sunset
I follow----
Somewhere behind hidden walls
The woods stand tall
Flowers welt from this burning love
My heart owned by the sasquatch
Though rapid dreams and streams,
I scream
Of Big Foot and I
By: PD
A regiment of sunflower golden disks
Turns heads
Assembled all summer for the daily
Love ambush
Upon the five o’clock rush
At the I-496 interchange
Home
Of pizza joints hotels and gas pumps
Who had the last laugh?
To plant in the highway construction zone with public money
This patch of bumblebee bonnets?
Whoever you are you restored my faith
Now
Under the October sky that’s held no sun
Not even for a single day
A type of autumn jewelry robbery
The crumpled sunflowers
Give up and fall face-first into the mud
Get back on one knee
With a wonder if any soul ever did see
Their trance upon the shining orb’s
Coming and going?
Yes, yes I did! Every exhausting end of the day!
I want to park my car on the ecliptic ramp
Fall from my tires and bend with the dying flowers
Faceless all of us
Reassure ourselves
Light is still up there somewhere traveling
Hidden as it is
Like another light perpetually cycling
From root to heart to crown
Earth to forest seas to heaven
The sun abound again and again.
A thought to dare-dancing
in shadow-light dreaming.
Eyes wet with the unseen,
a forbidden gleening.
If only unforseen.
Within golden breast heaving,
rib expanding in unison with destiny's
anatomy of anything.
Outlander girl, another world, love is scheming,
there.
Pregnancy in the Killing Season.
Did you really think it not.
Think it not dire, dear.
Vibration echoes upon the unthinkable,
implodes heavy nova.
The brink, taken in as an expression,
a Mavarupa childed by the mirrors tear.
Buoyant brain zeppelin,
thickly impended, unsinkable.
Time for the unthinkable.
A black hole escapes from itself,
running naked, un-apprehended by reason.
Un-attended fruit it grows out of pure desire,
filling the barren void.
A Cancerous Life, it does not recognize boundary.
Innocence sits on the Father's lap,
melts his heart at its Foundry.
Creation has mused the Great Poet
into bemusement Bonnets and Sonnets,
infusements
into sunsets.
The choosing of Sun dress.
Go now child, into your other World.
I will keep you apart no longer.
Jealousy mingles
into the wide eyed guffah of Satan maw, eyes gleaming.
God tells him to STFU.
This one, Her essence is stronger.
There, here, is more than what is seaming. It has waked from its dreaming.
The Giraffe Cries
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour
Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar
Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations
The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises
It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts
Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths
The train departs…the giraffe cries