Long Bronze Poems
Long Bronze Poems. Below are the most popular long Bronze by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bronze poems by poem length and keyword.
Echoes of past
Sounds that had been
Touches once in lust
Now nothing
Ah, you are not dead in a sense
Your eyes had read these very prints
Much of my eyes I got from your genes
Many see in it your glint
Once glimmer of gold
As she would say
Now of bronze a little old
The iris in dismay
I go through in delight
What you had once read
Feels how were your day and night
What you loved green or red
Your handwritten notes in margin
Those acute angled alphabets
Is the evidence of my beginning
Burnt holes on some pages, of my cigarettes
And that too your brand
The brown rings of capstan
Under the feet loose sand
Your warmth in my hand
I too love to underline
As I read my favourite books
Copious notes of mine
Almost identical looks
I do feel the soft leaf
Of your palm on my cheek
A cloud of brief grief
In the dark, something do I seek?
The dictionary you used
I love to consult very often
The smokes you abused
A feature common
The way I read and write
I feel I arose from you
You loved to fill the pages white
On which now falls my dew
I wish I could retain
The values you entertained
But your fountain pen has to remain
Empty, no ink, the market complains
If I refuse to drink whisky
In a party, sometimes,
Many a friend laughs at me
They would say, take juice of lime
Photographic films are not sold
The shop keepers look on and smile
As if a customer two generation old
The contax camera lies idle
We move on with our times
Stream eats into old banks
We change our rhymes and crimes
To the changing river, thanks
We caress it, hold to our chest
Smell and look through too
Bring out your poses in rest
Again inside eyes the dew
This way we continue
The before toward the after
Your things are my moments with you
Nothing in a sense is closed chapter
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4/11/2016 For the Poetry Contest:.
Old Jewelry or Just Old Things or Old, Old Poems - Sponsored by Broken Wings
Paul suffered a stroke at the young age of ten,
He was born 3rd October 1985 in Swansea,
He had been a keen footballer, it was his den,
So was introduced to table tennis for his tee.
At the age of sixteen he was selected for GB,
For the Paralympic team which goes everywhere,
And immediately won team bronze, dexterity,
At the European Championships, he had dare.
He took part in the Beijing and London Paras,
But was tots disappointed at his performance,
But in 2013 Paul collected very many medals,
In the Hungary, Slovenia and Slovak dance.
So in the land of Italy at the European Champs,
Paul picked up a bronze with mate Will Bayley,
Won the US Open in San Diego with clamps,
So that in 2014’s China Worlds, a bronze relay.
Vejle in Denmark, 2015, and Paul won silver,
At the Euro Champs in the team competition,
And he also won in the singles a bronze feather,
‘Cos his opponent had home crowd adulation.
At the Lignano Master Open in Italy in 2016,
He proudly won team silver and singles bronze,
Which selected him for Rio but he was beaten,
In the group matches. Born with energy, eons.
Susie was inspired by the Beijing Paralympics,
To pursue her talent at swimming, to train hard,
So she was classified as an S7, deformed limbs,
And won three medals in London, one in Rio.
She has a BA in languages from Newcastle,
Which she uses in her British Council work,
And first appeared in Berlin city at the Euros,
In Germany’s 2011 IPC Championships.
In London she won freestyle bronze 100m,
Another bronze for the 400 metres freestyle,
And yet another bronze for the 4x100m relay,
Also free - it’s where you do the front crawl.
In the French city of Montreal in Canada,
Quebec, Susie secured 1 gold and 4 silvers,
Gold for the 4x100m freestyle relay 34pts,
Silvers for 50, 100, 400 free and for 50 fly.
In 2014 in Eindhoven in the Netherlands,
Susie took five golds: the 50m butterfly,
The 50, 100 and the 400 metres freestyle,
And another for the 100m freestyle relay.
Then in Glasgow at the IPC Worlds 2015,
Susie won a gold 4x100m medley relay,
Also a bronze for the 100 metres freestyle,
So Funchal 2016 (Euros) came naturally.
In Funchal which exists on Madeira island,
Susie took five golds: the 50 metres butterfly,
The 50m, the 100m and the 400m freestyle,
And another for the medley relay, the 100m.
So in Rio she rejoiced when she won gold,
In the 50m butterfly in a time of 35.07 secs;
She could not believe it because she’s 33,
And intended to retire after London 2012.
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
Autumn weaves its hair from silken clouds, falling quietly,
The dream seeps through bronze shadows, seeking another horizon.
Rust dances on leaves, like a waltz of stars fallen into slumber,
In a brilliant paradox, goodness entwines with an affront.
The moon tears across the skies, like an echo of frozen silences,
Dew is an alchemist turning windows into tears of crystal.
I gaze through the eyes of time, a shadow in forgotten worlds,
And you, solitary traveler, are no one's dream, an ideal.
Under a silver sky, trains carry memories toward oblivion,
The moon rises like a verse from a never-ending poem.
A hazy setting, the refrain of an unrelenting longing,
A shattered mirror between us, a labyrinth where we got lost.
The refrain is born from moonlit sunsets, a brilliant paradox,
In the coming morning, we will find each other in fading light.
The bridge has broken, but the dream persists, a storm of colors,
The night of resistance envelops us, yet still, the dream does not die.
In autumn's mysterious veil, crickets sing a solemn song,
The icon of the sky watches over us with its sapphire silence.
The moon lays its light over us like a gentle poem,
And yet, in the darkness, your light remains a wonder.
I condemn myself to a refrain of silence, an unfathomable paradox,
In the arms of the night, the dream calls us, an echo of longing.
You smell of moon and autumn, a fragrance of decomposed mystery,
And the refrain, defeated by time, becomes a song without echo, without decor.
Pride goeth before a fall,
It shall be said, long after.
How well the phrase fits this Argive king,
Come far across the wine-dark seas
In his gleaming ships of war
To rape the wealth of other men's homes
All for the sake of a woman;
So it was said.
Here in the smoke of the ruins,
Behind walls breached at the last by treachery,
- 10 years' bloodshed not enough to have battered them down -
Troy's temples lay sacked and belching fumes for incense,
Then here he comes, blazing in bronze, puffed with pride,
To claim you, as his rightful prize alone!
You,
Whom even the gods respect.
Mad you are, blissfully so.
Yours eyes, flashing in your mantic states
See farther and more truly than those
Of any other mortal.
You know the things to be all too well,
For this you were cursed with a great gift of prophecy
Forever doomed to fall upon deaf ears.
But today the curse becomes the gift it should have been,
If to see a proud victor's doom
Riding hard upon his heels, he all unknowing
Be any comfort to the defeated.
He takes you to his death and your own besides,
Mistaking the darkness of your smile
For the resignation of the lost.
He bears home with you the fall of all his house,
Many a proud one shall join you both
In Hades' cold halls ere long has passed.
So bid your mother not despair
To see you taken and treated so lowly;
Bid her rejoice in your ravings,
Tell her raise the torch and call on Hymen
To bless and seal this doom
Which has been set to avenge your righteous dead
Who fell beneath these now so hollow walls.
Exhort her not to weep for her mad daughter,
Who, in being made concubine to this beast
Weds high indeed in final truth,
As through this match she goes to a god,
And he the one most truly feared.
The torchlight flashing
Like starlight in your rolling eyes!
Your beauty as you whirled there,
Absorbed in frenzied grief
Became a sight before which divinity trembled!
Your broken people smiled in pity for you,
Eyes full and dimmed with tears.
Yet it is enough, perhaps, for you alone to know
As you are carried off across the lashing seas
To the enemy land,
The flames of your dead city
Lighting the night's horizon,
Holding in your heart the bittersweet truth none would believe,
You commune with the Eternal,
Bearing gall and misery
To an arrogant fool.
Some days poetry flows
sometimes it is just words.
In the final spring - a poet
yearned for an immaculate blossom,
for his fingertips to bring a painting into life - to
meticulously cultivate and craft a masterpiece.
I recall an opal oasis full of pearl petals,
glittering with rows of diamond orchids,
citrine marigolds, moonstone lotuses,
and garnet roses surrounded by
amethyst lavender and sapphire bluebells.
craving for his mastery.
In a distant meadow,
consumed with faithless flock
grazing dead leaves -
there you bloomed from bronze roots,
an enchanting flower held by an emerald sepal.
In your flattery,
he became a willing devotee,
seduced by the scent of your paradisiacal petals.
But in your admiration he neglected
his selfless blooms,
unaware of wicked weeds
wandering in eidolic fields.
At sunset he would mirror the stars
and follow you like fireflies at midnight,
Serenade you with mystical lullabies,
evoking a sense of serenity,
but in the deception of dawn
you prioritised the sun,
over his soothing moonlight,
so you wilted, withering,
dripping in dewdrops.
In your servitude,
he placed you in the
greenhouse of his heart,
to protect you from the arrival of autumn,
but gaslighting gardeners,
sliced all of his intimate stems,
allowing satanic rain
to poison your spirit.
In the darkness, which dilates his eyes,
the pain still penetrates like a bitter blade
and he has become a forgotten gardener,
with dead seeds of scepticism
sowed into his soul.
Africa! Africa!!
One Mother, one heartbeat, one destiny!
Land kissed by the gods,
Womb that gave humanity its first cry!
You rise as one mighty pillar,
Your veins flowing with gold, diamonds, oil, and sacred fire.
From the Cape to Cairo, from Dakar to Djibouti,
Fifty-four nations stand as one family
One body, many beautiful limbs,
One voice rising stronger than any storm.
West, East, North, Central, South
All dance together under the same sun.
Nigeria’s thunder joins Kenya’s lion roar,
Egypt’s Nile flows into the Congo’s mighty heart,
Ghana’s gold shines beside South Africa’s rainbow,
Ethiopia’s ancient wisdom lights the path for all.
One Africa!
Where Yoruba drum meets Zulu spear,
Swahili binds what Arabic and Wolof bless,
Two thousand tongues singing one chorus:
We are the children of the same Mother!
Your people ebony, copper, bronze, and gold
Warriors and weavers, herders and scholars,
Women carrying the future on their backs,
Youth painting one bright tomorrow.
Resilient as the acacia across the savannah,
Wise as the baobab standing tall from Mali to Madagascar,
Hospitable as the ancestors who open every door.
No border can divide us,
No history can break us,
No challenge can defeat us
For we are One Africa United!
Mother of humanity,
Queen of the earth’s treasures,
Cradle, crown, and future of the world
Now and forever, ONE!
Let it be so! Let it be so!! Let it be so!!!
One Africa!
All I remember is rampant rain and a loud bang.
As dawn distilled through a canopy of palm trees,
glimpses of light reflected like emeralds on leaves.
I felt blessed in its warm golden glow,
as I awoke under clear sapphire skies.
Radiant sun blazed brightly,
reflecting like a fluorescent mosaic
upon turquoise waves kissing my bare feet.
I could hear cobalt macaws squawking
and soaring from cliffs to branches,
as the ocean lulled with a soft lullaby.
The air was so pure, but muggy,
as curious creatures, I had not seen before,
creeped and crawled around me.
As I wandered along a champagne shoreline,
I could hear an orchestra of morning birds,
composing their exotic melodies,
which added to the tranquillity of calmness.
Footsteps of fate led to a verdant forest with
an abundance of mahogany and rosewood trees.
A fluctuation of kaleidoscopic butterflies floated
among a plethora of petals in lush layers of
amber allamandas, maroon mandevillas,
orange orchids and purple passionflowers -
their sweet scents blending with saltiness of the sea breeze.
As my soul connected deeply with my surroundings,
a leafy path of twigs led to a myriad of mangroves,
their roots resting in an aquamarine toned lagoon.
I could see fancy fish in vibrant red, yellow and silver,
swimming in trails of troops around water lilies.
As my enchanted eyes gazed beyond a
flock of fuchsia feathered flamingos,
towards a gentle waterfall cascading,
serenely over steps of rock -
I caught a glimpse of a figure in divine light.
Dressed in ivory and gold,
reflecting in the image of Aphrodite.
Her bronze skin shimmered in the sunlight,
as her flaxen fair hair flickered in a gentle zephyr.
Such was the epitome of her grace, I was mesmerised.
I could have admired her brown pearl eyes, forever.
Unaware the endless blue horizons were
now dipped in velvet and honey hues,
I forgot about the diamonds in the sky.
The moon glowed like a ruby at midnight,
shining scarlet moonlight upon her lips -
my whole being craved for just one kiss.
Before I could approach her,
I opened my eyes in an unfamiliar room,
as a nurse in a white uniform asked me;
"welcome back, are you all right?"
Contest : Seasons Now And After
Sponsored by : Nette Onclaud
Date : August 10, 2025
Trails of rain fade at the fringe of summer,
supple northern breeze whispers on its way.
Strands of silver clouds slowly sail away,
graze the ash of end-summer’s smoky sky.
Sunburst horizon spreads gossamer drape,
tepid spectrum emits from slant sunrays.
Birds bathe in their shadows in fawn meadow,
autumn is near, they twitter, looking far.
Satin grass will wear crown of topaz dew,
flicker with the flair of dawn’s crystal glow.
In cinnabar lawn tawny trees listen
in the crunch of bronze leaves autumn’s footfall.