Long Cascaded Poems
Long Cascaded Poems. Below are the most popular long Cascaded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cascaded poems by poem length and keyword.
A Knight from the vast Kingdom
of The King of Holy Throne.
Michael slept within a castle
on beds of peat moss, and of loam.
His face was sedimentary,
though laughter mapped its course.
And his gleaming hair cascaded,
much like a Viking of the Norse.
His raiment wasn’t fancy.
No silk nor satin hose.
But his mind was quick as silver
and his heart was pure as gold.
Cloaked without, by a robe of integrity.
Fortified within, by a will of steel.
He wielded the Sword of Justice,
while holding Truth up as his shield.
Saint Michael’s crusade was legendary,
as was the power of his sword.
Forged to slay the inner dragons,
in reverent service to our Lord.
Countless times the blade was tested,
for malice dwells not on defeat.
Never lacked he for contenders,
disciples of rumors and deceit.
Bad Rumor sowed the seed of doubt
within the mind of man.
Watered from the trough of spite,
he conceived his evil plan.
Each rancid seed that sprouted
grew to a bud of tarnished mail.
Thus, shrouded by corrosion,
he sought corruption to prevail.
When Rumor heard of Saint Michael,
his phosphorous eyes lit up with hate.
Armed with his pitchfork and scythe,
he charged through his hellish gates.
Targeted by dark ambition,
saddled by vicious greed,
he raced upon the clouds fate,
engulfed by jealousy.
.
Michael felt the evil presence
and strapped on his Mighty Sword.
Then he rode off to a clearing,
in the sweet realm of The Lord.
Rumor attacked with animosity,
his trident held, as if a spear.
But as the Sword of God unsheathed,
Rumor was lanced by sudden fear.
Michael raised the Sword of Eminence
as if to pierce the sky.
While sunlight sparked along its blade
a beam smote Rumor’s eye.
Blazing light seized Rumor’s mind.
It seared his ravaged soul.
And when the inner battle ended,
Rumor’s heart was charred to coal.
As Saint Michael wiped soot and ashes
from the length of his trusted sword,
his eyes fell upon the hilt
to runes inscribed there, by The Lord:
“May The Force be your faith
May your spirit know The Lamb
May Love guard your heart
May The Light guide your hand.”
Nature has so much to teach us but her methods are subtle for she knows
if wisdom is from knowledge to be grown…
her students, with her urging, must discover the answers on their own.
That’s why she’s planted upon her Earth…on a variety of lands across her seven seas
from Andorra to Zimbabwe…an assortment…a multitude of trees.
Walk among her trees and quickly you will see…
though all her trees are different they form a symbiotic symmetry.
Trees of different sizes, shapes and colors inherently understand
how they must work together to get the most out of the land.
You’ll see trees that lose their leaves in Fall…whose branches are stripped clean
standing together…side-by-side…next to evergreens
You’ll see after the leaves fall…having gently cascaded to the ground
how they eventually they become the food that feeds every tree around.
You’ll see how nature achieves a balance…here’s exactly what I mean…
as the animals that live among the trees in spring and summer
find a winter home among the evergreens.
You’ll see when one tree begins to falter no matter how wide or tall…
the nearby trees find a way to catch her…or, at least, to ease her fall.
You’ll see every type of tree whether they produce nuts or syrup or fruits
communicate as one family…you might say…it goes down to their roots.
There is a one crucial problem, however, as everyday to these lessons she returns….
Nature is willing to teach us…
but we must be willing to learn
CATHARSIS
As a child being deprived of Mom’s care and affection
so tough was to get relief from continuous suffering.
Tried to cleanse mind coiled in deep depression.
Wrote grievances on diary.
Tears cascaded in abundance.
Swam and sank in poem and song
long driven attempt to release emotive urge.
Sought for solace seeking shelter
to prevent hit and bite of stormy winter wind.
So many complications, complexities sprouted
in journey of life!
Self-belief being a great relief is a means of catharsis for me.
Struggling, fighting suppressing persisting pain.
To release emotive urge yearned for a genuine partner.
How to melt my tortuous tangled tension!
Hankered for a sturdy shoulder of a strong persona
to lean and weep.
08/12/20
Third place
'CATHARSIS Contest by Silent One.
'All Yours (May 3 ) contest by Brian Strand
In the noisy raucous milieu of perpetual commotion
the sense of frenzy tried to discard the touch of affliction.
The splintered sentiments sank subdued and configured
within the unreachable profundity of the muted mind.
From the cauldron of cacophony I found a pathway out,
searched for a sanctuary suffused with silence devout.
Rising from debris of despair after desert storm of strife,
I gathered in the vase of quietude the strewn shards of life.
These turned to posy of flowers, I perceived its essence
in the oasis I made for myself in the still depth of silence.
The rapture stream then cascaded calm within my heart,
the serene song with melody of bliss I heard for me start.
MY DAYS NOW HALCYON
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I embrace the sun's lavender glow,
for time has etched my story,
one of wisdom, silent knowing
an ancient river softly flowing.
Refrain:
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
these eyes have seen a thousand dawns
regretting times when others I did wrong
self-forgiveness becomes my swan song
wondering if in my waning years I’ll be strong.
Refrain
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
the temperament’s softened with the years,
sometimes remembering trails of a million tears,
those invisible ones that cascaded down my face
a steady stream sourced at the river of my fears.
Refrain
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
soul has grown through time’s refrain
and my heart now beats a tolerant, gentle rhythm,
for it knows of love, of joy, of sorrow's schism.
its chambers beating with strength of life’s true wisdom.
Refrain
sepia memories have come and gone
reflecting upon my days now halcyon
Maples were first at letting down their leaves they always go first actually.
Sycamore and oak were a day later; both let them go satisfactorily.
Their crispy waiting autumn leaves had been ripe for more than a little while,
But if they did not let maple go first, there would be a frown, not a smile.
Colorful eager leaves cascaded, sprinkled, floated, twisted, danced, and swirled.
They were like exotic Romanian scarf dancers with bound legs unfurled.
The pumpkins and squash sat rolling their jealous uncaring eyes.
They were always in perpetual grumpy moods. No big surprise!
A spider began making her way toward the barn gate.
The knowing farmer tried to stop her, but he was too late.
Her intricate web was already up, as fancy as any lace cloth.
A delicate piece of pure danger for any insect she caught.
From the house wafted delicious pumpkin spice and cinnamon smells
Perky pink nose from leaf pile turned west as by magic spells.
Vole friend warned the mouse, I would not go in there. No way.
The cat had an early lunch, and the mouse learned the hard way.
Written 9-9-2020
Contest Autumn Fall Rhyme Challenge
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Jaded.
Cascaded.
Faded.
I retaliated.
Alienated.
Isolated.
I changed it.
Reframed it.
Battered it into submission.
The abyss that ignored my name—
That stagnant stage that stayed the same—
I busted it up.
Tore it apart.
With teeth, with nails, with rage.
My bitterness, boxed in a cage.
I am a woman scorned.
Properly, pointedly warned
About playing nice with unkind boys—
I did it anyway.
I’ll do it again.
Unless stopped by a trainwreck
In a leather coat, pockets packed
With heavy flicker hymns and haunted facts.
Healing stab wounds with bare hands,
Pressed to my bruised and cracked chest,
Leaking regret.
A man by any other name
Still reeks of old spice and shame.
I only need a joy ride
Into the dreamscape’s drifting tide,
Where trees bend low to bow and breathe,
Their musk and pine a whispered wreath
Inviting me into the realm
Of lust, desire, and fire-fed calm.
Branches brush my aching skin—
A welcome wrapped in woodland hymn.
I am not that complicated.
Though my pain, layered and laminated
Like geological canyons carved in stone,
Matches my internal rue—
A structure built to stand alone.
I can grow a man roses from rubble.
Just give me rosaries, rubies, and rubels.
I admit my earthly needs.
I am an investment, not a scheme.
I saw a world I hated.
I sublimated.
Evaporated.
Changed my state of being—
From rigid to roaming, mist into meaning.
Cold datapoints and sterile streams
Reformed into wisdom, stitched into dreams.
He tried to hold me subdued.
Silenced my dreams with histrionic moods.
Overwhelmed my senses,
With intentions sharp and sentences crude.
I was a prisoner of shame.
And there I remained
For a near decade.
I broke the chains.
Escaped the plush, performative pain
Of pseudo-companionship’s velvet cage.
Now I’m agitated and raw—
Midway through my emotional overhaul
As I transform from meek to sleek,
From silence to sovereign speech.
I will not take silence as an answer.
I will shake loose your response.
You cannot ignore me in oblivion.
I am here to stay.
You have the option:
To be a benefactor
Or de facto arch enemy—I know.
I am aware of where I stand,
And what I wield in my streamlined hands.
I am not simply a pretty creature.
I am not solely for looking.
I want touch—not merely tender,
But true.
Is that you?
Isabel was the youngest of four children, dwelling in a large old house,
Nestled under the burgeoning oak trees, in green spring, of no doubts.
Isabel's parents were devout churchgoers, insisting upon going weekly;
But, Isabel often preferred playing, like dawn, pink sun, shining meekly.
Theirs was a tight knit community, the kind everyone wants to live in;
Like orange butterflies, calling on red flowers, of golden days in a spin.
Isabel and funny friends flew blue kites, under floating clouds of fluff,
On finer days, foreseeing furious storm, betwixt yoyo's, bikes and stuff!
Fleeting faddish colors flitted summer gardens, as bug eyed frogs leapt,
On flighty days of family visits, and gloss sunshine, where the ages slept.
Isabel lived in the house of now and then, like a rare eclipse of wonder;
Or the burgundy roses of seldom, evoking the green spell we are under.
Scented sincerity wafted from still blooms, on the street of sunny views.
There Isabel's family lived sparkly lives, like yellow stars, in sweet youth.
Nice music came from treetop nests, in shady niches where it was born;
When nonchalant neighbors came casual, and geese honked their horn.
'Pink powder puff' flowers applied talcum, as 'rattlesnake calathea' hissed;
And 'purple daydream' dozed away, its fragrance and beauty, very noticed!
'Weeping blue wisteria' was melancholy, although sun was shining orange;
And 'blue waterfall' bellflowers cascaded, like a couple, taking the plunge.
Sunday came and Isabel was pouting, as she would be in church for hours!
And she wore a long face to Sunday school, like dissent among the flowers.
But, Sunday school was so much fun, and she had forgotten it was Easter;
And the Lord's face was smiling down, and her unhappiness, released her!
They all had a snack and played a fun game, singing and clapping along;
For every warm heart is happiest, midst melodious voices, raised in song!
'If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
If you're happy and you know it,
Then your face will surely show it,
If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.'
It was a day
as all days should be,
with every tree
impressively arrayed
in lush summer growth.
As if on cue,
the luster of the grass
illuminated you
in bright reflected light -
a sight
to last
for ever in the memory.
Sunlight cascaded
down your shoulder,
setting your golden
beautifully braided
hair on fire.
You seemed in that moment
inspired,
a soul in foment,
open to new yearnings,
emerging from the pupa
of mother-daughter-wife,
your thoughts now turning
to Europe,
and the promise of new life.
This, then, was the start.
And there you sat, divining
in the caverns of the heart
that something huge was dawning.
It was a day as all days should be,
shining
with possibility.
It was life's perfect morning.
O! You are naive
You are barbaric indeed
In you, I am disappointed
We sight each other everyday
We smile to one another each day
We fondle one another day by day
Aren’t we married for years?
In number, it was thirty three plus three years
O! Electricity
You are but faulty
You bit me with your electricity teeth
Just as snake bites
Believe me
Please trust me
Pray I shall not stand
As I lay flatly on this ground
Enjoying pain of your thunder bit
After cascaded from long distance poll
As long as the firmament
Laughing though tears drool
You are defunct!
I mean it you are extinct!
O! Poetry soup, don’t plead me
Don’t plead me
Okay I shall show mercy
For my fellow poets to viewing their poetry
They need electricity