Long Cache Poems
Long Cache Poems. Below are the most popular long Cache by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cache poems by poem length and keyword.
Ripples of gawk and gaze splendour,
at one’s fingertips eternally,
cornucopia an instant dream float,
golden gust garner without rein,
indulgent Pysche extract from nirvana,
but voyage of the quadrille quill,
on impact whilst a glittering weave,
admission of luxurious environment,
a stimulus awakening the verse vendor,
bursts of benevolent vista stoic,
enigmatic present minute float on by,
capture, rapture, entranced,
hue spike,
glorious basket of heaven etching,
giant svelte image rich shape,
wavering temperature to plummet or plunge,
pepper spray haze form hover,
whisper from the coral reef,
fringe reef encircling pale shore,
yellow grain easel’s uproar,
such an ocean flourish aqua cache,
in peril of blind omission,
stunned by opulent ream,
convergent notion ink well teaser,
bewitching hypnotist plump root,
peerless mist adrift now befogged,
petrichor as potent eco aftermath,
but afterthought I treat with scorn,
warm sunshine donor of earthly fragrance,
post jewel sprinkled rainfall,
intermittent wet and dry spots,
inspirational when deft mind hyper vigilant,
with eyes bound to dilate,
as billows of peep day steam,
wend mystically in crystal whorls,
stanza recess now ornate carousel,
of glints from embedded nugget,
hasp and hung mute on. chant,
glowing prompt beyond impetuous,
novel aspiration’s ignition key,
to offset dormant chapter spun,
embryonic phrases bold surrender
Nile beams as proud Mother of the land,
it's benefactory, gland.
Rushes to tend, to lend her foster
fauceted facet of hand-maidening
brand of bands in bend.
Oasic endow'n.
Matriarch, life blood gives, with arch of brow,
busy busy show.
Cache Cow.
Papyrus Pupae peeks up, her adopted,
Tamarisk, Acacia. Ebonies and Reedlings,
latched to her lactate tit.
Swaying, carefree Tops of Topologings
in the desserted cream of heat.
Bestow~ings.
Be ye blessed if you become Barren,
to (know) the miracle of Elizabeth,
(one well beyond her years)
Mother of John, that one
(who Baptised Man in your sister, -_
Jordan, of joyful tears.)
Fertile Sow.
So be it, be then blessed to again,
cream your milking and honey dew
your tap of berry beers cheer.
Verily so, endow anew, your Motherhood, to the Neighborhood,
to the Crocodiles and Textiles and Dunes.
Again, gain flow er in pregnancy,
in busy busy show er,
shedding advocacy in pinks and blues.
This mahjong game
Swirls round the square;
Four winds by name
As shrewdness bares.
A session round
The square table;
On crafty grounds
As wit grapples.
Here at the East,
I sit and watch;
Cache of pure feast,
Cunning to dodge.
Watch card discards,
Study the way;
Each player guards
To build array.
Each players thinks
How to outwit;
To weave a link,
Chase winning bit.
The cards go round
As game proceeds;
Logic is found
As sure form feeds.
Wins here and there,
The four winds blow;
Dragons somewhere
To cast the flow.
Play and chit-chat
As each takes turn
To bolster bet
With grand returns.
In a fast dash,
Brisk hours pass quick;
In a swift flash,
Tiles change, thrown bricks.
Our family
Plays just for fun;
Time moves briskly,
Harmony puns.
Late hours remind
The end game count;
Some wins we find,
In small amounts.
For a short while,
We laugh and play;
We share fond smiles,
Make bonding pay.
Here at the East
All things begin;
Warm fancy feasts
From deep within.
So here we tend
Fond times we start;
Begin and end
With loving hearts.
Leon a Enriquez
27 December 2014
Singapore
Sumptuous feasts enchanted float on by,
as I peer into an opulent expanse,
garnet clad entrance aglow,
imagine august beauty at its mise en scène peak,
ingress to celestial nirvana’s Laurel-ridden charm,
iridescent veil of cirrus nebula,
window blind ephemeral in situ,
rapid inkling’s meteoric shower,
harvest for the milk and honey bard,
goes beyond elysium horizons,
flight of fancy totem, utter breathless oath,
unearthly surreal lustrous cache,
burst of universal zenith trumpeting,
exalted plot as moonbeam step stair,
just imagine for a spell psalmodic Meccas,
to a hue-laden whirlpool vortex,
that sequesters sun-drenched harbours,
gurgling stream meanders, moss-fleck tides,
mesmerizing shroud of lambent bayou,
hazy plume on silver waterfall,
scarab mountain chain at sapphire dawn,
whose jewel-rich seams glisten enigmatically,
indigo blue species, bold passerine upsweep,
wayfarer halcyon Xanadu bound,
urban forest blackcap’s luscious throb,
snowbird glee club ear chant for
sprightly day-peep first rank,
amber leaf cascade a sequined duvet on barren playground,
rainbow eucalyptus but a foil for sylvan zephyr,
crystal ball elixir knows no quench or glut,
imagine life eternal in my wonder world cocoon
Date written and posted ; Second of March 2023
Contest ; Writing Challenge - I Words - ‘ Poetry Contest
Sponsor ; Constance La France
the kitten and boa rendezvous
she slithers in the tall grass
looking for cute ass
through rock bottoms pass
to tall oak trees mass
her eyes continue moving
for some grooving
two days drought
makes her shout
a little light filters in
she sees a boa and gasp within
is this too much for the kitten
no, she lets out a purr
in wake of her rising fur
with burning desire
she jumps into the fire
... onto a rising flame
frame by frame
the heat feels good
as it should
a little light filters out
as she preens about
the last log turns to ash
not before whetting her cache
connie pachecho
4/10/17
Henry’s Rust Bucket
He had managed the steep rise from a valley to his home and sat on the small
stoep. Another koppie towering ahead, he looked straight forward and counted
his blessings. One, by one he wrote a list of thanksgivings, carefully folded the
scraps of paper, then crumbled them up and darted them into a corroded pail of
collection. Always a good shot, it filled. A little water still in the bucket, ink
smudged and ran its course as thoughts nudged each other and the sludge pot
thickened. Soon it was far more full than half empty, the cache of paper-mache
almost burst from its seams. When memos and ‘done it’ notes oozed through a
hole at the bottom, scraped through and lifted his mood and the bucket, Henry
the cooper hardly kept up with the fill. The tub rose and time passed so slowly
that it turned in rebuttal, as the container had been really a scuttle for carbon
and coal, a near enough copy to hold passion and fire. So, elevated and so
imposing it became that it shaded the koppie. ‘Enough is enough’, I must move
on and rise to occasions. Remember the past and the present.’ Thus, he changed
perspective and stood on the bucket. It still had a hole and his steps had gone
rusty, but now he could touch the mountains again. Henry had so much to be
grateful for, even with a half empty bucket, that just one or two ‘post it’s’ would
have surely sufficed. ‘Never late than not ever’ he exclaimed, ‘I must fix the hole
in my bucket, gratitude list will only get me so far’.
Contest New Year 2018 A Better Production
Sponsor Kim Rodriques
His past finally caught up with him...
The killer waited silently in the man's room.
His gun cocked as footsteps approached.
The key jiggled in the lock of the door.
The man stepped inside, unaware of his fate.
Three shots rang out, dropping him to the floor.
The shooter ran from the room towards the exit.
A car awaited on the corner of the street.
It slowly pulled up as he came out.
Nobody saw them as they drove away.
Back inside, the man lay in a pool of blood.
His life flashed before him in the final seconds.
Where did it all go wrong?
Six years ago...
The job was supposed to be simple.
Three men on the inside, two on lookout.
He was the sixth man, the getaway driver.
The jewelry store had been cased weeks before.
Every detail was planned in advance.
The target was the cache of diamonds in the safe.
The four Hasidic merchants were elderly and frail.
It seemed like easy pickings for the gang.
The driver waited nervously as they went in.
Moments later, several shots were fired.
There was the sound of shattering glass.
In what seemed like an eternity, one man exited.
He was covered in blood and staggering towards the street.
The two lookouts ran over to assist him.
One of them waved frantically to the man in the car.
The sound of the alarm sent the driver into a panic.
He saw police cars rapidly approaching in the distance,
then did a U-Turn and fled the scene.
He could see one of his partners in the rear view mirror.
He was standing in the middle of the street, gun raised.
Two shots were fired in his direction.
The lookout spun around to confront the cops.
The last thing the driver saw was his body being riddled.
The two survivors of the robbery had their day in court.
The judge sentenced them to fifteen years hard labor.
The driver headed out of state and went north.
After searching for days, he found a quiet town to live in.
He acquired a job as a janitor at the high school.
He spent most of the time in his small apartment.
Anonymity seemed to be his best protection.
Little did he know, his partners were paroled early.
Serving only five years due to good behavior.
They only had one thing on their minds...Revenge!
A year later, they got it.
COOL FEVER
a Winter compress,
the giant ice cube —
a rubicon of
white gold pampering -
the Spring gate is closed.
thermometer -
brash, cache of chill.
illness moves fast
o’er snowy hill.
cool fever,
this tizzy-
snowmobile
racing
torrent,
H-O-T
12/10/2019
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Chosen Title: Cool Fever
Checked by howmansyllables.com
Line 4 is 5 syllables Not 6
Final line is 1 syllable separated by hyphens
my ghostly appearance was scary of course
brother and sister went dressed as a horse
they did not keep pace well with each other
I saw the problem was because of my brother
we traveled along yelling “trick-or-treat”.
Picking up some candy that was truly sweet.
Homemade popcorn balls will be put in the trash.
We thanked them, throwing them into our cache.
black cats and jack-o-lanterns with witches on porches.
dim sidewalks lit by Dracula’s make-believe torches.
A scary Frankenstein was gaining on us rapidly.
I screamed in earnest when a bat flew from a tree.
The best Halloween we have ever had said Cy.
That is my brother, who is a weird little guy.
My sister was not as glad, being the back of a horse.
“I like it too!” said the Frankenstein, our neighbor Norse.
A teen aesthete
wanders to the soul bartering crossroads
down from where the bus let off.
Gathering weeds and stray flowers
of windblown cemetery seeds.
To make a shrine, self inspired,
at the wayside of God.
To lend by ritual, and evocation
the passage of their development
lonely and gifted.
Shrugging off the ubiquitous pack
and taking from within; magical finds
discovered during cherished playtimes.
Collected in a self-adorned shoe box.
Things gleaned from treasure hunts
and fantastic pursuits.
A cache of light:
cat's eye marbles, chandelier crystals,
blue, clear, and green, sea glass
rolled and shaped by cousin sands.
Dull till spit wetted, salt licked.
By wave defying bravery
a pluck of pebble or sunny glimmer.
Run to Mom for her glamor, and approval.
Brought home in playful pockets
from beaches and picnics.
Now artfully laid in tearful grief.
Creating a mosaic of introspection.
The last to set in place
a paint chipped, wooden, geometric
puzzle piece.
An icon of fractured lullabies.
A dream ending; bare feet,
wet pajamas, and a long car ride.