Long Burst Poems
Long Burst Poems. Below are the most popular long Burst by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burst poems by poem length and keyword.
how graceful these autumn leaves grow old, marvels the greying child in me.
ye burst with such beauty in thy last days, I scarce can strive O Autumn.
autumn reverie tends to tell me: how lovely ‘tis to let things go.
I wonder if autumn tries to say something at the fall of my life.
autumn’s blue sky tends to invite me: come it’s time to be one with me.
if season’s tides wane and wax, wonder why life should only get the axe.
ah autumn once again— to give more gold than all gold mines ever give.
my grieving old age found the autumnal sky blue, sapphire nor azure.
thy smile O autumn leaf, do lend it to my dying old age in grief.
wonder, what’s nostalgic about that falling leaf— maybe birth and death.
spring summer nor rain hath such grace as autumn’s face— year’s dying days brace.
ah thy last lovely smile, golden leaves in pile, autumn, do stay a while.
_________________________
Yes we did, we loved and loved with all our might.
We felt each other through all the pain, and lived in a space that only our hearts and minds can find.
We walked hand in hand, so happily, giving each other our love endlessly.
Yes, we went through it all and still we find that we love each other more.
This love we have is so huge, it fills us with so much energy that we might burst from the tune.
Like music in us, it sings our tune, making us want to smile so much.
The love music we have is sweet, it’s like the feeling of chocolate in our mouth.
It melts us into each making us want for more.
The sweetness of our love is something we can only understand.
Your hands on me make me feel like you have always been mine.
Maybe you have always been mine, and this is why I can’t get you out of my heart and mind.
Let's Thank God for our love and blessings, today and always on my mind.
Morning thoughts of you roses full of dew
gardens full of summer love, sweet romance
here inside your arms we rebirth brand-new
like the morning sun when it starts to dance
Aborning sunlight cortef hours .... loved,
like the pied colors of a rainbow burst.
glancing tinted shades two petals englobed
to the loving hands of time, we come first.
Inside this garden youthful hours of truth
reborn like the seasons we live nonetheless
despite of the winter mulched in vermouth
we pair up nicely, ... to nature's headdress
Morning blushes her cheeks and we turn right,
like airborne angels, at the cusp of night.
Amulet graced by gems
clad for stratum prow
tawny glyphs
margin of witticism
& quagmire
extravagant dictum
trivialize shores trails
summer ousted
& waves of wrangles
sundered the ocean
& swapped my spirit
in crimson burst
swirl to scatter
In demolishing ruins
& twilight crumble
slump of man
glittering Phoenix fire trail
scribble a cyan-xantos rhyme.
bore a shallow rostrum
defective soothsayer
haunts dreams?
hilltops & both
oceans & skies
cyclone of emotions
&
lethargic sadness
soul storm mulling.
5TH Place Contest winner
Written: July 19, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Don't Get Caught in the Woods After Dark
By: Tom Wright
1/9/99
While walking in the woods one moon less night.
I stopped, but for a moments time,
to collect my thoughts, regain my bearings,
and purge my mind of fright.
Then suddenly an owl in a not too distant tree.
Gave forth it's eerie cry, " whoo whoo ha whoo,
whoo whoo ha whoo, whoo whoo ha whooa ",
as if aware of me.
Batteries weak, my five cell flashlight, I turned off.
I, upon so doing saw one small light,
as if to be a cigarettes glow,
then heard a cough.
Then a voice that said, "What are ya doin here"?
As I turned to run, a laugh, and then the voice said "stop"!
But small legs once in motion, tend to stay in motion,
I couldn't stop, because of fear.
I thought for sure he had a gun that night.
Thinking I was dead, I laid down tracks in the leaves,
Leaving skin on saplings that lay ahead,
From my imagination and just plain fright.
Arriving at a road, now thinking my heart would burst.
I made it to our house, cotton mouthed,
My heart still pounding somewhat, from this night,
And needing water for my man sized thirst.
When calm at last, I related my story once more.
Again, I hear that familiar laugh, that voice,
"Where did you think you were going boy,"
as dad stepped through the door.
Form:
The distance between us means nothing~
l've f a l l e n in love with you, despite the moon sleeping in your eyes,
I d r i f t towards you like a galaxy of stars.
Craving your ivory fingers to unfurl my ebony crest,
flying me to thrilling northern lights,
as I grasp your fluttering wings onto my heaving chest,
enabling you to u n r a v e l and devour me,
beneath artistically crumpled sheets,
sprinkling sweetness across mystifying rivers~
of toffee lakes that are ready to burst,
as you sensationally dive
into these restricted fondant gates,
to passionately feed beyond the luscious linen,
finding your way around enraptured embodiment.
An enigmatic enchantress you've so effortlessly tamed,
conquering my walls whilst within a timid pupa,
confined inside the vulnerabilities
of a voiceless cocoon,
but waiting for your mystical vapors,
to unleash spring blooms in our souls,
engraving "forever" on rose tinted glasses,
for summer steam has commenced calm seas.
But these venereal spirits can r u n wild,
a vacant space that shall leave our eager ink
to create reckless nights,
feeling your claws ravishing their
way onto my poetic spheres deeper and faster,
letting your hands explore as my plesiosaurs guide,
while you set my canvas on fire
with your alluring quill,
and you grip onto my realms
like a momentous love ritual.
A scavenger hunting for hidden passages,
full of t r e a s u r e and p l e a s u r e
sinfully scribbling about how tomorrow shall be.
Despite being atheist,
with serpent teen eyes,
I would nonetheless bet
Eve fen number guys
named Adam, or gals noel lies
(christened) dollars to donuts
(Dunkin and/or otherwise)
Jesus would be mighty pleased
to know, his surname
linkedin with commercial ties,
no matter, he might not garner rise
zen percentage of profits, no matter spies
infiltrate competition especially if he
unwittingly gets trampled and cries
amidst chaos (think euthanize)
untimely death by madding wise
flash mob crowd source realize
last seconds rushing to snap up
latest jamb door prize
as venders resort to all
manner of (subliminally
manipulative) marketing techniques
to lure patrons, (especially
photo opportunities with
one of the many
"FAKE" donned Santa
Claus), the latter,
who would lionize
their son(s) and/or apprise
daughter(s), subsequently
guaranteeing, nailing crosswise,
and clinching safeguards exercise
immunization against the Grinch
sure fire way to manure er... fertilize
guarantee future generations rise
zing will become avid consumers,
who reverently, obsequiously,
and devoutly idolize
supporting the apostles who revolutionize
creative commercialization to capitalize
nearly every Cyber Monday
occasion to finalize
(all sales) pennies on the dollar,
where merchants feign
going for broke, and capitalize
eulogize, and idealize
the mighty buck staging "FAKE"
news worthy shoppers to burst into tears
crying on command,
and all manner of pathos
pulling ploys nsync king
"shameful guilt" that squares
singled out forevery one to ostracize,
hash-tagged, and demonize
yours truly as Scrooge.
Sheila, Lilac Princess of the Owl kingdom took another look behind
Hegmond had his wingspan out, but the scroll was still intact and shined.
The crisp moonlight gave tiny glimpses of snowflakes on the path.
Helga Hegmond’s mate stood guard in the tree of the common wrath.
Keep going her heart wings said; her soul was helping her in her escape.
She felt invincible in her mother’s gloves, gown, and loving lilac cape.
You have come so far; you are almost there the spirit angels told her sound.
She heard a noise, felt it must be him, but dared not turn around.
Fleet of foot, she began to run down the path to the gatekeeper’s lair.
Helga stayed back to fly into her abuser’s face but Hegmond was there.
Her heart beat widely in her chest. She thought she would burst in norse.
The gatekeeper ushered her in and stared, knowing her mother of course.
You are safe here my child he told her. You may relax. No one can get you.
Curled up on a lounging couch and fell fast asleep. Her feelings no longer blue.
Helga and Hegmond threw invisible pixie dust around the gatekeeper’s lair.
John Smith, her abuser no longer remembered her, no longer aware.
The Pleasure Remembered.
I saw her in a cafe yesterday; years had not been kind to her
her hair was matted, her skin was dry, and her lips were a sullen grimace,
not quite hiding her miss- coloured teeth.
Once, we slept entwined. I kissed the body and often burrowed
my head in her honey pot and drank her love juice like divine nectar.
She was sitting there, a lonely woman, thinking of her youth,
lost in thought, and her tea was getting cold.
It made me think of the nature of love; there must be a physical
Attraction first, loving the person comes later.
If I met her for the first time today, there would be no physical
attraction, but perhaps she would have had something interesting
to say. I just heard her cooing and sexual rapture.
The thought of sleeping with now was depressing, and for doing
that...no. But we did fly on wings of passion too high for us, and
we burst into flames, only ashes left.
She looked around but didn´t
Recognize me, why should she
A fat, bald man reading a paper?
the last tastes of summer slowly evaporate on my tender tongue.
no longer will fresh strawberries burst outside my cottage window,
nor will the smell of blooming lilacs fill my lungs.
as the first chills of changing seasons graze my skin,
gently rubbing my arms, i feel goosebumps forming from within.
the sunlight of hope gives way to the dusk of sorrow,
frost glistening as stardust reflects on autumn leaves.
a misty fog rolls in over the browning hills,
whilst isolation begins to take hold.
the distant birdsong of an owl echoes through the painful landscape.
staggering toward the unkempt window,
i shut the lightly dusted shutters,
so just for a brief moment in time, despondent worlds disappear.
behind a fabricated reality,
i can pretend with my indebted shadows.
stammering, i find the play button on my stereo;
goodbye to you rings in my mournful ears~
as the final warmth of yesterday shifts into the bitterness of perpetuity,
leaving my somber sky adorned with pixelated promises,
while this heart longs for an ethereal escape
from a raven-winged horizon,
cloaked in cracked amethysts and jinxed crystals.