Long Capricious Poems
Long Capricious Poems. Below are the most popular long Capricious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Capricious poems by poem length and keyword.
Searching the earth in pursuit of something that I cannot find
It makes it difficult to get my desires when I am hence purblind.
I recently met a gallant, intelligent, gentle, loving man;
with so many issues I can never understand.
What are his reasons, his motives, I do not know.
So many doubts, so many questions, I will have to take it slow.
But I am getting older and do not have all the time as before.
So here I sit with questions, doubts and fears galore.
He tells me I'm beautiful and sexy and in his arms I feel all aglow.
I would like to give completely, but how can I share with a man I hardly know.
So many moments, so many stories, it is all so surreal.
He has too many layers that I will need to peel.
How can I know what his true intentions are.
Sometimes his words can be hard to take in and quite bizarre.
Is he ready for a person such as me; am I ready for a person such as he?
I feel sad when he is not with me, and then I feel unsteady when he is;
this makes me into a volatile, capricious, unpredictable little Miss.
But the uncertainties of the situation make my thoughts run extreme.
So many doubts, so many fears I cannot take another hit to my self esteem
So, as I sit here pondering and wondering where this may go.
Should I take the chance and make this kind, gentle, loving man my beau?
Across the Sprawl of wistful Fall
Through capricious Skies of broken Lies
Naive sweets leave tongues of the young
As the last leaf of summer dies
To Escape the Scrape of leather feathers
And Trim the Rim from fallow snows
Tomorrow's Flowers count the Hours
In the Bleak Mystique of departing crows
Where the cold unfolds Tracks of wolf Packs
The remains of rain Returns the Ferns
Despite the Spite of cynic's delight
The wheel of days tenaciously turns
When a green dream Soars through golden Doors
Each Sunset will Reset a pristine dawn
As Tender as April's fragile Splendor
Hope Stands as Grand as a fresh-eyed fawn.
11/15/20
In Rhymes Sublime contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
A capricious old wizard, with fastidious old cat
In an idyllic cottage, wears a manta and hat
Gulps an insidious potion, of chrysalises crushed
With dragon jam, root pulp, and magical dust
A rhapsodic litany, of unintelligible, verse
In evanescent malaise, conjures his curse
(mumbling curse)
suoicirpac suoiditsaf cillydi atnam suoidisni
sesilasyrhc cidospahr ynatil tnecsenave esialam
namsilat serihppas teclud yticilef tnaidar
regnibrah arohtelp citamsirahc ytiminauqe nale
Waves a talisman of sapphires, afixed to his staff
Emits dulcet humming, suddenly he laughs
Starts spinning midair, in felicity
In a radiant flash, a harbinger is seen
A chimera where fire breathing dragons are lore
And a plethora, of broom riding witches no more
The charismatic old soothsayer floats to his feet
In exhausted equanimity drifts off to sleep
The elan harbinger visits his dream
Reassuring the old man of all he had seen
words are spelled backwards in the chant. "Poemdog" Daniel Turner
20 word challenge
Written: May 31st, 2025, For contest: By Joseph May
********************
"The stars beckoned her song to reach the crescent moon."
A sonata spun in silver, diaphanous and light.
Carried by a midnight zephyr, an ambrosian tune,
Wriggling across the hushed empyreal night.
The moon, a velvety candle leaning up close,
Its smile was crescent-shaped and wide.
As echoes of her whispered melodies arose,
Riding a cosmic tide to carry them and slide.
The galaxies whirred their soporific refrain,
While celestial orbs danced in airy delight.
Her voice—a gossamer yarn in a monolithic domain,
Weaving melodies into the katabatic night.
Comets gyrated in glowing grace,
Dawdling garlands of smoldering flight.
With each glimmer, a vanishing trace,
A symphony streaked through the cyan night.
Nebulae blossomed in iridescent opal and gold,
Winks of wispy silver in twinkling glow.
Milky opals flowed in a zaffre, wispy fold,
Akin to jewels in tinselled rhapsodic flow.
The solar zephyr in a capricious swirl,
Canorous choirs filigreed, jewelled, in twilight.
Stars wove lyrical whispers on a weathered whirl,
Of songs nestling on a dogwood, a serene site.
Dawn rippled with refrains of silver melodic show,
A nymphic choir in June twilight, lilac—katydid.
Ripple as an aeolian harp in topaz of heat glow,
endless oracles, sighs of aches, lullaby—did.
VIDEO/AUDIO on YouTube above. NOTE: On the video; double-click to enlarge, and/or, right-click for the drop-down menu and click on 'Loop' for auto-repeat.
Autumn's Wink at Winter
Stares at the glit of a harvested moon,
felicitous sways northernly o'er ripen earth,
divorcing neath horizon's haulage.
Rises the yam sun that courses a forenoon cast,
towering mist espoused crusted loam and verdurous life,
progresses towards insignificance.
Abandon lofty leafy legions,
descension in crumpled layers,
... of impaled saffron petals,
... of lain chartreuse fronds.
Strewn against a capricious path,
the weight of feet crinkles crispy snaps to arouse the quietude,
echoes summons a dusty field in white,
ebbing the tides of a wintry breath.
Afar strewed a few sunflowers to escort its mentored sun,
ere setting to their eastward repose position.
Brisk breeze encounters a trial,
a crafted shawl snuggly wraps,
homeward bound via hot cider,
a lit fireplace as a book is read.
A forested cabin well-engaged boast outwardly entertained,
prominence forestalls in burgundy, copper, and blonde,
snowflakes tenderly smooch the befallen perianths,
forgivingly melts to the usual taste of Autumn.
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (Apr 15)
~~Brian Strand
*1st Place*
Still-Life Autumn
~~Eve Roper
*My submitted Free Verse has been a prior winner that I had written on 2020 October 22
East sea capricious invites frolickers
Lose all resolution fighting her euphoria
Entry to her anger ensures exit involuntary
Megalithic Pacific mounts with power superior
Eruptions, edge gumption propel folk
Nautilus chortles her lapis lazuli laughter
Thrill pulled paddlers contest for echo evoke
Suction eroding floor swept compulsively faster
Monstrous Nemo swims rhythm erratically
Elevates victims in lifted lemonade chamber
Elixir tips her fizz in eyes, ears unapologetically
Tumult assault sends sand spun fun to ocean chasers
Aussie beach, nothing beats it!
26th January
springtide …
blows a tender kiss
tickling blossoms on a plum branch
to loose their grasp, giggling
whirling and winding in
the sun like drunken, gilded pixies
capricious in their flight
a whimsical drift -
aromatic and elegant …
flawless, like the wishes of a child
floating to purpose, afar -
to alight on a dream
enigmatic, joyous, true …
as blessed in their journey as they
are in the order of their
exquisite design -
as charmed in their prospect
as they are in their
perfect, resplendent sacrifice …
sacred essence of being
lifeblood of existence -
the bright, brisk
glorious morning breath of
nature …
itself.
All gorgeous babes, “Made in U.S.”
But minds, oh my god, a mess
Pontificating, pointing fingers
The oozing hurt that screams and lingers
They’re on YouTube and TikTok
To share pain and talk, talk, talk
How no good men are out there
All men are evil, they declare
Who pays, for what, then when and why
Don’t fit the mold? F.U., goodbye
Love’s now transaction, what’s my cut?
Became so common, it’s a rut
Demanding dough at every turn
Big bucks he spends, or else he’ll burn
Capricious, dizzy, double-faced
Girls call for power, to be chased
Cannot accept what men are 'bout
Disliked one word and all’s in doubt
No patience finding kindred soul
So used to play the boss’s role
Surprise-surprise, men walk away
They seek soulmates, not being prey
Someone who’s kind, warm and sweet
With whom to make one’s life complete
The fruits the feminism bears
It’s also truth of life that bares
Be strong and pushy and demand
With dreams of home built on sand
The men are moths and women – flames
Don’t this work well with angry dames?
As age progresses, panic struck
Girls, mend your minds, else out of luck
Traditions worked for thousand years
Embrace them, cast away your fears
To have man’s back and fire going
Instead of nagging have love flowing
Men - simple creatures, fielding calls
For hearty meals and hollow balls
A ‘thank you, darling”, “you’re the best”
Shall stoke romance, preserving zest
Men don’t need much, but not the fight
Home’s place for cuddle and delight
Hey, babes, surrender, get embraced
And may your family be graced
Sept 25, 2025
An exuberant falcon she is, isn’t she?
Being the aviator of my flight of thoughts.
Cares less she to heed, whenever in adoration, I
Do call her for a chat - she is a mischievous trickster.
Every time she dawdles, I give her a gentle prod;
For then, she arrives in ripples of reasoning,
Gleaming in reflections of my own contemplations.
Hues of insights kindle my mind’s spectrum as
I follow her to the unexplored layers of landscape - a
Journey for the moment - as we drift across the
Kaleidoscope of nature, when through seamless
Loops of thoughts, I crochet and disperse my ink
Meandering over dreamy mangroves of my mind.
Now she’s disappeared, but where’s she gone?
Oh, she can vanish in a flash like a lightning! - a
Playful penguin - it’s hard to grab her attention; the
Quick-witted queen of my boundless imagi-Nation, who
Refills my thought pot and sows fresh seeds of fancy.
Sometimes with her capricious flaps, she glides away
To coax her to stay back more is beyond my ability.
Upon the labyrinth of life, we travel together.
Voices of many a mind, whispering and rumbling,
We hear as we ponder on the vast sea of life. My
Xanadu of inspiration, when she appears out of nowhere.
Yes, she feeds my brief reveries with pearls of perception - a
Zealous advocate, she is, of my passionate ink.
Whence does it hail from,
the magic that feeds those moments?
Those moments when the breath catches in the throat,
when an internal grin, rising from within,
transforms into an external one;
yielding to the fierce exultation
brought on by this mysterious magic of the mind,
of the self,
of which I speak.
Those moments when you run on nothing but impulse,
the guidance of aught besides whim, the wind, and what's inside;
when control is relinquished
to the hand that resides within and around us all –
the hand of capricious fate;
allowing us to give in to ourselves,
to our true individual nature.
What ethereal force, then,
unlocks these brief gates, throws open wide the door,
to you;
you, coming finally to the fore?
Whatever the source, wherever its home,
I remain grateful;
those moments, when we stand naked before the world
and we spit –
when our core breaks through the crust
and it shines –
that's our salvation.