Long Brambled Poems
Long Brambled Poems. Below are the most popular long Brambled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brambled poems by poem length and keyword.
Sitting beside a noisy, restless creek,
rushing water over stones and green moss.
Often, these crazy days, thoughts seem to seek
places to hide from life's tumble and toss.
A meadow of wildflowers comes to mind;
running barefoot over non-brambled grass.
Losing burdens of memories confined;
knowing a mountain will give me a pass.
Reading a poem that makes my heart break;
secluded room, music that heals the soul.
Raindrops on roof, their soft music opaque.
These are returning thoughts making me whole.
Daydreams spinning weblike words to begin
Hidden thoughts' whispers, heard only within.
September 25, 2021 (approx.)
Your Favorite Poem of 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
This Earth on where life is awakened me
And gave breath to breathless without concern
A cry was heard as a welcomed decree
A precious gift until death I return
While time's quiet shadow circles my eyes
I'll search tomorrow with yesterday's guide
And traverse brambled worlds with all its lies
Curse the internal loneliness I hide
For life's amusement, I'll come and go
To walk its old stage with characters found
And watch these actors explain what they know
The play unfolds while the curtain surrounds
I'll question reasons before I am gone
There will be no answer except the dawn
1/24/14
In retrospect the couple nigel and nigella were reflecting on their mosaic life that transcended the freakish.
In a mist drenched and fluctuating sun dispersed town with scant employment, and that plethora of minimal short term contract work.
The apparently genial and eccentric inhabitants were in a quintessential jokes and capers quandary.
Dark grey shale ribbed stone stark dwellings one felt might collapse with a finger prod but didn’t quite!
Yet!
Windows bear the tarnished realm of conformity that might stifle atmospheres but didn’t quench drole alignment.
Streets that wove interstitially whose most elevated distinctive mark was its ennui on rewind.
A laughable yet solemn cliquish hub wedged in between a brambled array of disrupted forest leaf wilt and rabid limp green wet knotted pastures.
Nigella had a short story shortlisted in a dimlit attic of a local newspaper with the title A day in the life of a donkey.
Nigel was a junior cast member in a fringe drama on a meagre shoestring budget that had now you see it now don’t short run then vanished without the most minimal of warnings.
Based on this animal pet theme.
Perhaps the portrayal might have been a tad gauche and slapdash in its delivery.
The humour a little too corny even thorny for seats scattered like seeds audience in an overshadowed, out of the way, dust speck town which simultaneously seemed to be playing reuse second fiddle in the context of up to date innovations.
There was also the tantalising magnetic lure of a major urban catchment area and its kinetic glow where there now appeared to be a perceptible impulsive swing away from this midget type village or small town yet somehow dense area that was at once a mortise lock gazing in on itself yet had this twist and turn yen to expand exponentially.
“Strange that day, Nigel, you know when I saw that donkey in the field.
It was a bumpy field very uneven, it was raised, elevated and had this tilt.
Most unusual, it had this human facet, almost as if it was on the verge of peering down on the village.”
I saw you
In the tender birth of a summer’s day
Emerge,
Fragile to a new life,
New freedom,
Feast delights of nectar
On the brambled cliffs.
I saw your fluttered dance of courtship
In the gladed woods
Above the Lyn.
Those crowded flights
Of summer’s quiet agitation
Fade one by one
To loneliness.
I saw those wings
That floated in the easy lightness of an August heat
Falter,
Chill-damped
In a late September mist
Above the bouldered shore.
I saw you
Weary of life once precious,
Hesitate along the edge of the western bay,
Your wings dip to the water’s gentle swell.
You rested brief
As though to rise again,
Gave in to weakness frail,
Surrendered to the ancient sea’s embracing wave,
Pale essence of those cycled ways,
I saw you die.
On holiday in North Devon, watching a tortoiseshell butterfly at Bucks’ Mill as it fluttered along the gentle shore.
Written: January 24, 2025 For contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the galumph of morning breath
a chandelier of dew,
Barely inching through the cobwebs
dreams hammock in gleaming light
A jaded heart finds solace
in this tangled respite,
Lummox magpies whisper tales
crisp with truth renewed.
Magic twilight dolphins
swim through esoteric skies,
Flummoxed by the palette hues
purple crocus and yellow celandine,
Surly winds sweep through vastness
where shadows intertwine
Trapped beneath a cloak of darkness
spying on sighs.
Brambled paths lead to riddles
a sharp needle piercing skin,
Bleak wilderness unfolds its wings
reckless thoughts bear flight,
In abyssal thrall to katabatic winds
that howl at night,
Fodder for desolation grip
where slithy worms start.
A reckoning draft reasons
in cosmic dust and glowing flame,
Juggling shadows and whispers
with each breath eternity bestows,
Bright brambling duets waltzing
where sapphire waters flow,
Obsession's echoes in an alder
tarn untamed by shame.
Straddling the edge precariously
puckered lips exhale pure art,
the trickster stalks among obsidian trees
weaving lucid dreams unraveled tight;
a goldfinch’s trill alchemizes
into hope’s flickering candlelight -
each note dissolving petulance
from placid hearts
in these moments as I wander through
the glistening morning hue
surmounting plummet throes
where orchids boost
raw life on a hopeless slope.
I shall go where all shall sleep,
Where silent winds their counsel keep,
Beyond the edge where sunlight dies,
To walk beneath the endless skies.
Through forest dark, through brambled thorns,
I’ll tread alone in twilight haze,
Each step a whisper, soft, subdued,
The echo of long solitude.
The stars will call with silver light,
The moon will guide my steps through night,
Though they fear it's darkened plains,
I’ll heal their souls, their hope, their pain.
Without regret, my path is clear,
To walk where others quake in fear;
The man I am must face the night,
To show the way, a kinder life.
At journey’s end, my heart will know,
I there will wait, where we shall meet.
Love still laments, when it was charred into ash
and left to fill the imprints of yesterday's footprints
leaving no tracks to follow
As a soul's heart is thrown into the Cimmerian shade
wandering, unwillingly in forsaken mists of perpetual pain
searching through abandoned brambled reasons...which scar the flesh
still wet from vacant hands which held this love
before its blood spilled upon the sacred floor of trust, staining it for eternity
The soul lingers to collect its pieces before they are carried away
with the windblown desolate days that have deserted tomorrow
where nothing exists...but memories
that cross the night sky, leaving an etched trail
burned into the hollow eyes of loneliness
3/10/19
Ghostly frail figure,
that I am now,
neath nebulous moon,
where I shed tears,
on brambled verge,
as thin bones quake,
emaciated earthly being,
whose nocturnal solace,
bereft of suave signage,
with a deathly sickness,
icily immune to healing,
taut threadbare skeletons,
prone to clinical diagnosis,
never fugitive in closet,
nor courtroom strict sanction,
cordoned off camera setting,
where splurge of guilty scruple,
in atonement an utter ruse,
yet musings mercurial lurk,
as the net of darkness threatens,
indignant isolate me stranded,
whilst casting mirrorlike,
reflections shed under veil,
of midnight mosaic,
on my mishap strewn life,
due to brittle bony,
fragmented awkwardness,
that wreaked wild havoc,
with long term intimate bonds,
commonly entailing excess,
swing by to overflowing wards,
I eschew self-pity, period,
so vain and vacuous,
alien and anathema,
barren rattle cerebral
sqeamish stream of,
inlaid tract,
rumination razor-sharp,
from emaciated mortal,
whose stealthy lurch,
is frame vulnerable,
torrid touchstone,
as skeleton key,
gaining ingress to,
stubborn locked doors,
syndrome blight,
hailed as,
lean skinny shell,
resignation rare,
stoic coexistence,
copper-fastens