Long Cape Poems
Long Cape Poems. Below are the most popular long Cape by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cape poems by poem length and keyword.
A coloratura rises
from the suede-edged shape
as the gnarled grande dame
comes to light.. a vision
draped in sweeping evergreen
and a pale cape of kidskin haze -
a beguiling soprano in soft-
focus fools the guileless sunrise
with a diva’s deception --
for in the vaporous golden hour
she can still be breathtaking
the age of change
is beclouded - softened
in gray’s cashmere atmosphere
where blending and bending of
over-ripened perceptions
are smoothed with a dewy smudge..
roughened boughs
and litter-fall is obscured --
unless, you get up close
harsh lines become artfully coy
in the bosom of the pearl mist;
a bedimmed dreamy blur of
Impressionism masks her reality
with the sleight of hand and a mockingbird’s aria
Susan Ashley
March 8, 2020
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand Contest No 1183
Sponsor: Brian Strand
N/A
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 6
Sponsor: Mark Toney
*coloratura: runs, trills, and other florid decorations in vocal music.
A lyric soprano of high range who specializes in such music*
*aria: an elaborate melody sung solo*
At eight I wanted to see the ocean,
I had seen many a lake;
River, mountain, valley and high canyon,
So for our summer break;
We visited Long Point Beach,
A beach with a projecting reach;
I was going to see Cape Cod's big waves,
The white sand was windswept;
Huge waves hard to accept,
Breaking with foam, each hollow and concave;
I will never forget,
The spray and getting wet;
The power, the beauty, the magic scene,
Now, the ocean I have seen.
____________________________
May 10, 2015
Poetry/Rhyme/A Perfect Day at the Beach
Copyright Protected, ID 05-671-885-10
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Memories Of The Sea,
sponsor, Isaiah Zerbst, Judged 2015
Fourth Place
Said Bashful Billy
To this pretty filly
"Can I give you a peck on the cheek?"
Said the pretty filly
To Bashful Billy
"Yes, but first there's something I seek!"
Well, Bashful Billy
Really had no clue
What this young filly was asking for
So he whipped out a frog
From his colourful togs
Said, "If that's not enough, I have more!"
"No! No! Silly Billy!
That's not what I mean
I want you to do magic for me!"
"It is told you can bake
A great Birthday Cake
While balancing a cup of hot tea!"
"Well, yes if you wish
So then may I kiss
The tender young cheek that I yearn?"
"Well, not quite so fast
There's a thing I must ask
That you teach me a trick I may learn!"
Well Billy agreed
To teach this young filly
A trick he knew she would love
With a wave and a shake
Of his magical cape
A pink cloud came down from above
The two were hidden
The young filly was smitten
Bashful Billy had won her dear heart
He gets all the kissing
He'd always been missing
They're together nevermore to part
© Jack Ellison 2012
Breathe in,
Jesus my mind is in the valley
I know I’m not lost but it's hard to see
Exhale,
Help me to lean on you
When negative circumstances
Become more comfortable
I’m too comfortable with depression, isolation, and doubt
Having late night conversations about
An end that didn’t end at the cross
Now it's hard to breathe in my daily routine
Arms extended as far as they can reach, help me
I’ve uprooted myself from the vine
To avoid the journey of progress
As if God didn’t have my best interest
Why do I look for other interests outside
Of daily bread and living water
Now I’m adding interests to my debts when they were already paid for
If I only paid more attention to the Vine, my branch would see the Tree
God help me to not protect that parts you want to prune
Despite my flesh I want to be more rooted to you
Plan ahead they say so you can make time to smell the flower things
I’ve never been much of a gardener
However, today I’m planting mustard seeds
So, my confidence can age as Grand as the Canyon
I can finally picture heaven in the palm of my hands with this Canon
Camera, bombing any part of hell in my yesterday that tries to burn my film
Hope used to be a dream then I made my dreams come true
Hope used to slip through my fingers but now I wear it as a cape
Flying over depression, fear, and regret
Stop subtracting from you, thinking to myself
Hope is priceless, you don’t have to play tag with money
That’s why the tag looks out of place in a garden
The highest value holders are free
Salvation doesn’t cost you anything, so;
Plant faith and wake up in a field of dreams
Plant a rose and fall in love
Plant patience and endurance will run past any future
Harmony outlasts pains earthquake
Honor overcomes poisoned endings
And it gives me hope that tomorrow isn’t so bad after all
I don’t always feel super, but Jesus said I can be a hero
p.s. don’t forget your cape…
At a young age, they start to rape.
It is a disaster in the Cape.
At 15 he starts to rape.
There is no way to escape.
At 15 he rapes the kids in the home.
They are close like bees in a honeycomb.
The grandparents in the house
living like blind mice.
The parents are all drug addicts,
living off others like ticks.
Their kids are thrown away,
their lives have gone astray.
Their kids have been vandalised,
they have been bastardised
by a 15-year-old boy.
He is not a stable boy.
Grandpa and Grandma turned a blind eye.
How could they turn a blind eye?
For three years they ignored it,
even though they were in the cockpit.
The grandparents turned a blind eye.
What standard did they apply?
Their kids are drug addicts,
living off others like ticks.
Morning sunrise breathed light in filagree
burnishing colorful waves across the sea
It delicately wove golden threads of lace
in dawn's sky while it warmed my face
I smiled at the sea's luminous shimmers
as it moved in rhythmic dappled glimmers
The sun's brilliant shades of topaz and maize
seemed to set the sea aflame in a fiery blaze
I watched my footsteps stolen from the sand
by frothy fingers smuggled as contraband
A flock arrived; their squawks heard as a cheer
The avian's call to breakfast I could plainly hear
Seagulls sang together in a raucous symphony
as dawn in glorious beauty, revealed her litany
They kept watch for light appearing in the East
as the signal it was time for the day's first feast
It was such a wondrous morning upon the cape
as sunlight artfully painted a stunning seascape
Have a cap, a baseball type cap
With the NASA symbol emblazoned
Reminds me of my visit to Cape Canaveral
A symbol of man's dedication
Feels so good wearing this hat
Such a tribute to man's ingenuity
Each day something else blows my mind
The progress, the real continuity
In leaps and bounds we move ahead
It's left my poor mind in the dust
Am really too old to keep abreast anymore
Age makes it difficult to adjust
So from little old me I'm sending this
A tribute to those amazing people
Who've forged this path to the heavens above
To me it all seems so surreal
© Jack Ellison 2013
I so abhor to acquiesce to all this balderdash -
some bloke with his colleen in arm has offered me some cash.
Though dubious that I may be, my dilly dally ways
have left me pinchin' pennies and beggin' for some pay.
So fifty bucks, a rented tux, an easy ride that day,
clandestine gig to get the scoop on what Tallulah says.
I'd heard about that Bankhead broad, a foxy lady sure,
and gender-bender quick to jump in bed with those not pure.
A quintessential interstitial, between the ears she wants,
would go with any randy, rambunctious recalcitrant,
provided they had gizmo, either natural or toy,
and it mattered not whether they were female or a boy.
Though shilly-shally stupid me would often vacillate,
a downtown wing ding Jim jam night sure could tintillate.
Though diddlysquat I knew about the blowhards at this fest,
I grabbed the half o' "C" and proudly donned my hat and vest.
"Who is this Mickey Mouse I see, a hooligan adorned,
whose hither yon and useless ways have often left him scorned!"
And, though I felt like staring there, a mirrored self-lambaste,
I grabbed my cape, usurped my thoughts, with little time to waste.
Old Chico Marx, Doug Fairbanks Jr., Errol Flynn attend.
Shortly warnings cut the air, "On guard my fuzzeled friend!"
Glancing 'round, I'm thankful not to be the rapiered foe.
The Fairbank's stare, the Errol swagger, glissade that they well know.
"Nit pick not", I say, lest I become the prey.
"Affaire de coeur my evil man", I hear Sir Douglas say.
Old codger Chico wryly smiles with guilty funny face,
when then Tallulah enters and her beauty fills the place.
Defend Miss Bankhead, now I must, so I cold-cocked the man,
Then turned around to find Tallulah, face to face we stand.
"Miss Tallulah would ya like ta...well, I guess...get lucky?"
To my surprise, her reply was, "Abso-bloody-lutely"!
Off we went, ethereal bliss, my ego she and me.
Hindsight temps with fifty bucks but I'd do it all for free!
(In a dream!)
I’ve watched the sun rise in Angkor Wat
The beauty in Santorini will not be forgot
Mount Bromo was a sight worthy to behold
Cape Town did shine so bright and so bold
I witnessed the sun as it set on the Grand Canyon walls
The moonlight dancing on the Sutherland Falls
I’ve cried at the feet of the Redeemer so grand
I’ve seen so much beauty in many a land
Nothing compares to what I’ve seen with my heart
A sight so amazing it just tore me apart
It all pales in comparison so right and so true
The beauty that I see every time I’m holding you
*comments are welcome and appreciated*
Spine-tingling,
down the chute,
gothic gutter trickle,
black and blue fusion,
stark signature tune,
wee faint hour phantasm,
mischievous melange,
surreptitious in its,
dimmed twinkle curfew,
for post meridian,
exodus egress,
minstrel me chorister,
shadow cape figurine,
humming nose sniffle,
spooky pale moon jingle,
on dank drizzled docklands,
looping street lamp,
whose eerie surveillance,
of claustrophobic canopy,
an intriguing ice pole static,
footsteps ricochet,
in bone chill metre,
following a stoic self,
upon intricate,
tangled torrent of,
rudderless echos,
sonic psyche figment,
in numinous nook,
star splatter sequence,
chasing motley mirror,
bilocation bold essence,
mutating fickle fragment,
stygian bard I,
smeared pocket-sized,
snapshots of,
my persimmon pursuits,
on grubby granite graffiti wall,
underneath ostracised,
a wringing wet shawled,
vagrant whose rusty tin,
I load with benign bolster coin,
golden hearts synergize,
in evanescent ebony,
furtive flying bat
squeak and scop,
placid pools