Long Careens Poems
Long Careens Poems. Below are the most popular long Careens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Careens poems by poem length and keyword.
ahh...auspicious shake of good fortune.
the soil so red, smells so rich.
the allure of an ancient burial box.
my eyes, like pyres of greed.
admiring thieves have no appetency for my pillage.
the cold stone shovel carelessly careens
showers of dirt on insulted flower heads,
but i’ve no time to waste. i absolve
to tear up this plenipotentiary grave.
her mesmerizing portrait with golden bangles,
diamond earrings and rings. ahh...that heaving diamond
placed over her heart.
she must have been ‘sumptin else in her day,
but my quivering fingers will rape her jewelry.
i will not assuage your thought of me —
the jewels sparkle in my mind with intensity.
my soul leaps with joy at the door knocker box.
i’m on hands and knees, dusting away the many days
these beauties have been worm infested.
ahh...this lid, will carry me in — the creak, so sweet.
my first peek, i’m in love
with the heavy diamonds on her eyes.
i undress them first…
darkness falls, something’s gone awry —
the anguish one feels before the century’s storm.
the atrocious jolt of chillers, i feel,
as a corpse comes back to life, teeming with teeth.
at first bite, i become a slave of the night.
10/9/2019
Crazy A's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Word List: Anguish, Awry, Auspicious, Atrocious,
Assuage, Appetency, Allure, Absolve
As tangy waft careens into my mind
To softly rouse a glittering twilight,
I frolic with the northern breeze, refined
On imprints of an ever- threading night.
And copper-like, my senses mildly clothed
with fibrils tracing ripples on warm flesh;
this zephyr cool guides evensong hollowed
by a mystique startling birds’ tunes, afresh.
Until the trade-wind fades before new morn
oh guardian of air will bid me still;
my breath feeding the hours with time reborn
till dewy waft on skyline claims goodwill.
That I, a child of moon, shall testify
as witness to the gentle billow’s sigh.
My Favourite Forms - Haibun or Sonnet
Contest of Heather Ober
9/17/2015
Off his leash, he escapes,
diving under a chair.
Through each room of our house,
he darts here; he darts there.
Little scamp can’t be caught.
He careens crazily.
For his collar I reach,
but he dashes from me.
To his food dish he goes,
Ah! My time has now come.
He is back on the leash
and unable to run.
I know our puppy will calm down in time.
We find his toys and bones he likes to bite.
We gently rub his tummy as he lies
beside us with the coming of the night.
Lullaby, Doggie.
Lay down your head.
Sweet dreams for our Snickers
asleep on our bed.
for the Contest: Rock Me Around the Clock or Rock Me to Sleep--
Rhythm Poems
I see you in my dreams
I feel you in my arms
But reaching out to touch you
Only causes harm
You are not there on my pillow
You are nowhere to be found
Sheer despair surrounds me
In my tears I drown…
Please take me back, my darling
This time I’ll treat you right
For if you won’t, I swear to God
I will not live another night…
What’s this? The phone is ringing
It’s your number on the screen
As I pick up the receiver
My equilibrium careens
I think the words ‘I love you’
But all I hear come out
Is your voice on the other end
Calling me a lout…
The click I hear is like a knife
To pierce my very soul
A lunge into my very heart
~ May God seize full control
Written: January 20, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Quote: “There is no sickness worse for me than words that to be kind must lie.” Aeschylus,
Line of inquiry:
truth imbibed
awaits assimilation
we feel it in our bones
in time dissolved meditation
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It lies so wisely in silence—a truth as vast as the sky,
Heart bonds are loud, and time is where secrets fly.
Another guidance from the soul is to meditate,
The benthic abyss of existence—may not captivate.
In the timeless Prometheus, ketamine never ends,
Words assail when sacrilegious with a weight of trends.
Wrapped by laceration, shadows murmur the truth,
We weave hedonistic worlds, crafted with airy youth.
No signs or manuals molded on musty scrolls,
But a heartbeat harmonious hum—echoing halls.
It mutters in muted times louder than any voice,
A celestial cadence that connects us in cool poise.
Meditation serves as a serenata for truth gems,
Sorting through shadows—to watch which hems.
In silence, we design stories woven from threads,
Into our depths, where gossamer rule treads.
In the mirror of prayer, truth makes its colors clear,
Every stroke is an enlightenment that destroys fear.
It's deemed with every heart, gavotte, and breath,
Until skills emerge from life's mellifluous wreath.
We do not grasp truth, but we acquire it with grace,
A rhapsody careens that falls into place.
It is a layer of us, shaped by the hand of time,
An idiosyncratic memorial in this changing grime.
Seeds are sown; seeds will grow
into a weed, into a rose
millennium passes into black holes
the sand will turn into glass
bones into dust-flesh into ash
eventually everything
blows back to the path back home.
There're no grand mysteries
only infinite, undiscovered truths
into the virgin soil of purity-[absolute]
miracles suckle from gravity's root.
The ego often forsakes the creator God
careens into the blackness -alone
the sirens howl from the abyss
when angels bow to laws unknown.
Only when it is lost- only when it slips
does the ego bend a knee and cry for home.
Seeds are sown; seeds grow
into a weed- into a rose
everything comes into its own being
the destiny of flesh is the soul's release
all will boomerang back home-infinity.
Releasing the Trump Monsters
The Trump madness deepens
And the world grows darker
The evil ones have been released
The wild things are growling
The dogs of war
Satan’s hell hounds
Are on the loose
Howling at the moon
Running amuk
Infecting us all
With their madness
As we all turn into mindless zombies
Filled with hatred
Jealousy and insanity
As Trump and his neo-fascist
Cabal unleash the monsters
Of their dangerous id
Devouring all reason
Turning all they see
Into raving lunatics
As they set the world on fire
Ushering in the ends of days
Armageddon looms
Will Trump be raptured away?
Only God knows
And he is not telling
As we descend
Into the maelstrom
Hoping against hope
That we can overcome
The monsters
That Trump has unleashed
In the end
Perhaps it does not matter
As the world careens
Deeper into hell
There is no end
Nothing but despair
Forever and ever
The Trump madness never ends
I haven’t written a fiddle-faddle footle in a while. Here goes:
flotsam
bought some
floating
doting
for miles
exiles
flash scenes…
careens
ah trees…
no…bees!
coasting
ghosting
swirling
whirling
fish fly
oh my
up creek
looks bleak
fiddle…
diddle
faddle…
straddle
fiddle
twiddle
faddle -
paddle?
big scream
no dream
jump ship
don’t slip
soft land
life’s grand
my feet
take seat
debris
past me…
i sleep
dream deep
3/15/2022
Winding path through the tawny wood
Hanging branches form a shadowy hood
Dangling vines each spindled fold lace
Slippery, svelte moss cloaks the base
The vented light peeps through fibrous trellis
Addled mind with beauty to encase
Swerving shadows creep down the swaying lattice
Each truncated step to efface
Fallen leaves weave a sprawling mat
Soft soles o'er silky fibers prat
Trodding o'er tender mushrooms, rendered scat
Listless feet trample each groove; probe each slat
Restless roots the rugged edges trace
The undergrowth crowds the shrinking space
Meandering route into sleepy hollow careens
Whittled bushes, saw grass the stillness gleans
Through the swaddled cradle padded soles calmly pace
The rhythmic lullaby of whistling wind heart doth embrace
Through stunted hollow into bracketed thicket
Spiny branches throw up a cumbersome picket
Each spiked shrub colludes to form a sticky wicket
Bristling, twining band is serenaded by singing cricket
Struggling through the gristly garden
My stinging heels bleed for reprieve, pardon
Just ahead, a carpeted, emerald meadow streams
My sodden feet dance into the velvety seams
It thunders through like a rampaging doom,
water cracked the stone, and carved out this chute,
the locals around here call it the Flume,
white water churning through a confined route.
Roiling, throwing mist onto the rocks,
always wet and sporting a sheen of green,
so loud is the torrent it’s hard to talk
over the noise as the water careens.
Empties out into four small waterfalls,
which widen into a wading-deep pool,
folks splash around, and the kids short and tall
dunk heads in the cascades, thinking it’s cool.
But never dare try riding the cataract,
even dumb kids know they will not come back.