Long Byway Poems
Long Byway Poems. Below are the most popular long Byway by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Byway poems by poem length and keyword.
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor,
She grips the gear stick hard in the left-hand lane, watching the highway,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
The rearview catches jade eyes that dream and soar,
Through the Queen's land's heat, approaching each Christmas, gone insane and raw,
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor.
A middle-finger salute offered to what came before,
She shifts up to targa 7 to breach the physical plane on her spiritual flyway,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
Angels and Demons, drivers perched on each side her shoulders, steering through the roar,
A rock spider for roadkill while she holds onto the reins on her skyway,
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor.
Blue sky nods a tepid discourse along to this sworn internal law,
A long-suffering witness that stays in its right-side my way,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
Accelerating past the karma borne, hell-bent on freedom
has no fury like a woman scorned, no time to refrain on this byway.
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
Candide Diderot. '26
In the Bluebird of Happiness
at Klutina Kate's
the rain dances
splatting the metal roof
and dribbling down the windows
Never expected to find comfort
in an old bus
but I sleep well here
Didn't expect to be here
Didn't expect to belong here
Yep, where the northern lights play
it's turning gold
I'll saddle up before it turns white
journey back through the Yukon
and make my way south for
Christmas in Florida
Or Australia
I just wanted to see some caribou
Didn't know I'd make friends
Caribou, moose, bear,
glaciers, tundra, and snow-capped peaks
there have been plenty
but they're not what I'll come back for
On every highway and byway
beauty overwhelms
but it's deep in the heart too
the kind I'd run from
Not anymore
Cathartic
The pernicious nature of you psyche,
a keen weapon, you so often used on me
How will I ever get past all that I feel ?
How to make my heart into cold, gray steel ?
Loving you offered not – but a dead, end road.
Loving you has become a heartbreaking, heavy load.
No adventures to take - a journey out of one’s self,
travelling into the heart and soul of another’s Elf,
self – this you have made so clear and I always knew,
yet I fell so hard, I fell so longingly, in love with you.
You took my spirit, my breath away !
I did, willingly, walk upon danger’s highway,
now, nothing more then a forgotten byway
am I, a flake, floating in space - I do believe,
behind, you now and forever leave
me in this bleak and cathartic state,
leaving me to accept my fate.
B. J. “A” 2
Janurary 18th 2009
Keola – Free Verse
Crossroads Converge
Robert Frost
TWO ROADS crossed paths – DIVERGED IN A crossroads YELLOW WOOD
AND I felt the binding turning points
Bound up on fiery indecision of whispering bellows
Take the smooth byway that beckoned –
The easy thoroughfare of compromising positions –
Or
A narrower way, a dusty avenue of overgrown ambivalence,
A rough path cobbled with pacing anxiety
Tread this indolent valley’s vacillation
Slightly overgrown with luring curiosity begging for attention.
I TOOK this invitation
THE ONE with scattered isolated footprints LESS TRAVELED
BY hasty choices AND the one THAT sang
In baritone vibrations of either or –
That HAS promises of reconciliation in quiet meditations
MADE upon this parallel path –
ALL OF THE DIFFERENCE beneath the serenity of arching boughs
And songbirds cooing in cool glens, scented leaves fluttering,
Resting in consolation’s life -
The consummation of white fire.
1-21-22
Contest: Keola Secret
Sponsor: William Kekaula
In tight and busy parking lots
You can easily get perturbed
Should I back out; take the long way,
Or should I just jump the curb?
Jeeportunity!
The well-worn road around the butte
Will take ten minutes more
But a dusty two-track byway
Will save us some time -- I'm sure!
Jeeportunity!
This time the parking lot is full
‘cept a small space next to a hill
“No worries!” mumbling to no one,
“I’ll just drive it up there in Four-wheel.
Jeeportunity!
It”s time to buy a set of wheels,
Your spouse wants the blue mini-van.
There, on the end, what’s that you see?
A Rubi Wrangler! Yup, I’m a fan!
Jeeportunity!
Some cold day in my future life
I will climb the stairway to heaven,
In a golden Jeep with a mega lift
And the tires will be Thirty Sevens!
Jeeportunities!
She still paces around the churchyard
without a hat on her blown tresses;
an autumn cloak rustling beneath a gray cloudscape
that somehow, her eyes wander on,
not because she relishes the flick
of icy leaves...not because silk orchids lay
on a marbled cross: rather,
her thoughts gather among dry thistles to wail
upon a crypt nestled by life’s hammock of dust.
The lull from breezes affirms such quietude
of her beloved now resting on potter’s field,
sealed by the finality of death : this instant crash
through night's byway pinning him down down the abyss...
And the mist spills into another hour
unrelenting in bowed silence,
as if he loved her essence more in ghastly ruins.
Broken Wing's Could You, Please Contest
Submitted 10/20/2017
Originally Written 10/17/2017
Lamentable, the family gathering
on the other side of sunshine,
with possessions no longer bothering,
sans loving cups, draining of wine.
Great-grands, grands, aunts, uncles, cousins and unborn,
one mom, a nephew, memories
their perspectives (only they carry). Torn,
yellowed pages of treasuries.
Climbing steps, silver dollars, and finger gloves,
savory chicken and dumplings,
boat on the lake, seashells on velvet (these loves)
tricks and treats, some were just ducklings.
Soft hands, warmer heart; silver in corner chair;
the teaser (he died way too young)
To each I lift my thoughts - they are laid bare.
Kindly, ancestors, I’m among.
All, go the byway, to our destination.
What will our progeny recall?
What bouquet of ours sets forth sensation?
Together we’ll be, blessings fall.
Lacrimal vessels are filled - our love, fearsome.
Eyes salty and brightened.
Peace comes after tears, reveling in wisdom.
Capacity to care, heightened.
A Forest Dance
————————————————
for a dance around the tree
four youths link hands
circling
giggling into a cathartic
collapse
joyous over burrowed-under
bridges above the ground
of the nutrient-searching
long mossy roots
arms out
and then
they ran off
the tree left sensing
her ancient coarse bark
crusted coat creaking
as the winds hit
and knowing near
the solemn hanging
swaying
of uncountable needles
of pines aloft branching
on out of the forest
byway close to infinity
—————————————-++++———————————-
(Written for Jim)
(c) sally young Eslinger 12/18/21
Thanks be to God
A Crimson Sky breaks the distant shore
stargates opening veils upon veils
portals portending lyrical or so it seemed
since senses were lost in labyrinth lots
angels pouring purple pearls into
timeless space
I heard old lions roar below an empty nest
though ears gone ~ I who knew, GONE ! becoming observer-listener-knower
arteries slithering serpents d a n c i ng in
S k y … fleshless, bloodless
beyond Crimson Sky no grids, axis
numbers or clocks, experiences points
on l u c i d spirals F L A S H I N G
tiger lilies beckoned on another byway
sensations spinning signatures along
country alleys, R i v e r s of L i f e
L o v e steppes alongside goals
I realised S k y lessons mystically taught
facets were muddles for mind to
untangle, create flower-of-life patterns
floating omniversal to a single destination
Imperishable gifted His frequencies
“Keep facing forward”, a whisper I heard,
“the journey inward proliferates doubt
confusion, p l a y s h i d e and seek
narrow focus to single locus …
ignore demons or demi-gods with
malachite earrings, poppy pendants
or entreaties about historical distractions
through all winters purpose is S p r i n g.”
Crimson Sky collapsed
distant shore dissolved
a crescent moon landed
in my sunset H e a r t
I c i r c l e d a g l i t t e r i n g moon in my
CRIMSON SKY
Lustrously exposed, save the lamp posts
How inviting…shadows of two
wrapped in pearly silver---
a moving photograph in pastel colors
framing a moment’s rendezvous
as dusk filters the pavement;
right where bodies shimmer undercover.
Trees wave at the moon for traces of desire
on a byway of glowing motion,
the silhouettes hazy yet engaged
in malleable outlines when hours linger
to wait for a tender affair’s finale;
past the radius of lamp posts
while the stretch of intimacy pours its last glow.
Find The Puzzle Contest written by Ashley Conte
For nette onclaud dated 9. 29.2014
TARNDAI