Long Cerise Poems
Long Cerise Poems. Below are the most popular long Cerise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cerise poems by poem length and keyword.
Let me get r o m a n t i c, cross my legs,
pucker my lips, slip into your shadow.
You say, “It’s a bit hot in here,” as I draw near.
You're pulling at your collar, releasing your tie.
My scarf, silkily and seamlessly, slides
onto the parquet floor, next to your shoes,
kicked off. My s t i l e t o s join yours
on the ballroom floor. They’re ruby red.
We are not ready for bed, Mon amour.
For now, we are in this for kicks. High
riding our stallions through the m e a d o w.
Enjoying our tricks and treats together.
Our wet skin, pearlescent, in the moonlight,
swimming with p l e a s u r e in the dark.
We get closer and closer to the t r u t h
of who she is; who he is; we’re in the depths.
The mistletoe overhead reveals a mystery.
You’d think it is a k i s s, but it is a knee.
The d i a m o n d brilliance of cerise cheeks,
and a “yes, oh yes,” and yes, comes the kiss.
Let me get r o m a n t i c, in snow of negligee,
looser lips, and a slip b e t w e e n the sheets.
It’s never been h o t t e r as you draw near.
It’s time we know no bounds, my love.
Clyde Pucelli was known as The Rembrandt of The Great Midwest!
He was an itinerant painter, esteemed as one of the best!
With his brushes and well-blended oils he'd render a masterpiece;
His fame spread since he specialized in hues of white and cerise.
He traveled in an old shay with his faithful horse Dan at the helm,
Brightening the households of Hoosier Land, Clyde's singular realm.
It took a couple of days to complete a painting then he'd move on,
Leaving folks to marvel at his handiwork long after he was gone!
You'd be surprised to learn he didn't do oils to display on a wall;
No, he painted ramshackle barns, outhouses and sheds, that's all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Neither puppy love nor lust, each insists
in its imperfect play. Their hearts resist
both by clinging in its barbaric way.
Youth forgiven. The wolf begs her to stay.
But a commitment is made in marriage.
It is not found in a baby carriage.
What do we know of love - it’s not first sight.
It is the highs and lows - bond holds on tight.
Love’s patient, kind, not selfish nor boastful.
It’s the making of memories - joyful.
To let go of bitterness’ a decision.
Poof like magic, the wrongs are forgiven.
Black and blues, the stumbles and falls, gets up
on the horse - believers climb to the top.
~
Now what of those years, of the worse decrease?
Does the sorrow make the better cerise?
Does the white-gowned wife, handsome groom resume
as if the bond is pruned, roses in bloom?
Yes, the rivulets of tears reverent.
The jubilee melody resonant.
When love is stirred with sugar and nettles,
sorrow’d years melt. Felicitous petals
land on silver hair and wrinkles. O God!
Yes, three cords complete and restore the flawed.
Love protects, hopes, perseveres in trials.
The truth of a lifetime's years in their smiles.
Shakespeare regales Summer’s hot gaze, short days.
Yet love stoked in the Winter’s hearth - O blaze!
1/30/2021
What Is Love
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Hybronnet is similar to a sonnet, can have a variable rhyme scheme,
does not have to be iambic meter. The poet is given liberty to choose how to structure the rhyme of the Hybronnet poem into a combination of rhymes be it slant, feminine, masculine, etc. or apply it in any design deemed appropriate
“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”– Frances Hodgson Burnett
Though I’m unable to bear the coldest days,
My heart is eager when they put me on display,
All my buds and blooms seem like a blaze,
Vibrant hues of scarlet and cerise smile hooray!
Summer silences all my doubts about being enough.
With the sunlit reflections mirroring my soul,
There are even days when I feel like hot stuff.
It is assured that my splendor can surely console!
Melancholic when autumn calls my name,
Promising me a future without blossoms or leaves,
It won’t be very long and I’ll bow my head in shame,
My summer heart hides amid shadows as she grieves!
Beauty Celebrates Dawn
Beauty Celebrates Dawn's Exquisite Flush
Mauve melding into magenta’s fuchsia blush
Pink cherry blossoms hide the sleeping thrush
Crimson cardinals dream in amaranth hush.
Like Misty Nascent Opulent Pruce
Daybreak dances in orchid shades on boughs of spruce
Soft silvery pinks serenade with amethyst flutes
Bright razzamatazz of morning matins played on ruby lutes
Aurora Bears Cerise Dawning Energy
Sunup razzle dazzle watchman – copper rooster rises
Signals first light hues in shades of coral surprises
Daystar fills lilac light with synergy
Starshine Teases Unruly Violet Winds
Raspberry colored roses sing in sunrise runes
First watch fandango coaxes daylight with morn's mandolins
Day’s glory smiles upon vanishing vanilla amber moons
7-29-21
Contest: Alpha Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Pruce – a commercial shade of pink
Tantalizing season steps in humming
Delightful songs - soar cerise, tangerine,
Crimson, red leaves - floating, fluttering
Swooshing, spreading light…. Stardust
Sprinkled from the misty clouds above,
Shimmers dazzling on each petal, flowers
Of the magical season sprawled create
Tapestry of colours !
Autumn weaves dreams glimmering streaks
Of light, murmuring whispers of joy,
Decoupage of ravishing colours leaves
The footprints of a glorious landscape,
melting colours bewitch human soul!
Seductive
Sparkling
Sprawling
Sublime
Flowers of Season!
Encrusted by Stardust!
Autumn's crisp, dry leaves crackle underfoot,
adding a crunch to the grandeur of Fall.
Squirrels scamper about, as if hard-put
to gather acorns, and bury them all.
Nature crochets a shroud for Summer's death;
from the colored leaves that fell from the trees.
And the air holds a chill that frosts your breath;
quickly dispersed by a brisk Autumn breeze.
A kaleidoscope of yellows and golds
adds to Fall's ever-changing scenery.
And Autumn's annual pageant unfolds,
as Jack Frost's kiss gilds Summer's greenery.
Scarlet, vermilion, orange, and cerise,
line the pathway south for migrating geese.
our lady of Guadalupe stands alight in corner air
her gown emerald, cerise, gold
Don Pedro stands afore
glass to glass in an amber glow
Lowry’s beaked bird of uva descent
shadows flicker here, there
on the morrow lies the tropical carnage
the insect floor, the frogs call all night
offshore the everlasting beacon of an occultist light
humanities illusion of delusion, forevermore
calling ships to a harbor where i have none
the rain praters, the storm roars, the poet walks the floor
she stirs, i am not there, panther pillow rising
Morrison's Spanish caravans
once more the earth pulls as Don Pedro and i kneel
the carnal carnival between her naps
is when my desk finds the lines
while waiting for the sun
Abilene 6/18
“How, unless you drink as I do, could you hope to understand the beauty of an old Indian woman playing dominoes with a chicken?”
? Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano
for those of you who have attended an Arts and Madness conference know the story. Edna St. Vincent Millay, master of the sonnet, the rage of her age now collects dust in the library and no longer studied at the university. her life of addiction and the cost in the wake of self-induced destruction surrounding her. the stupor of Elizabeth Bishop cost her the chance of a happy marriage. i could go on but what is important to me is that 28 years ago i walked away from the madness and kept the art.
Summer's excitement over, veiled Fall tiptoes softly
tantalizing, with aroma of golden sunshine,
decoupage of leaves - cerise, tangerine, crimson-red
a riot of colours on bountiful maple and playful pine!
whimsical season filling hearts in euphoric delight,
I see dreams of my zestful youth in soaring leaves
swooshing, floating, drifting around, often fluttering,
few sprawled on the ground summer's dreams weave.
one last rose beaming, present final dance of a ballerina,
jinias glimmering with streaks of light in golden breeze,
merciless wind will soon blow away their enchanting stories,
before they leave, witness fall splendour in the grandiose trees.
a rare painting by nature, pageant sure to win,
beauty of a fairyland, in soothing cascade of light,
Autumnal grandeur softly envelopes summer's beauty
Nature and it's endless gifts, behold a gorgeous sight!
"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature" William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601:
Along a path of solitude I tread,
flanked on either side by watchman trees,
a lush green canopy above my head,
in foliage the flutter of cerise. . . .
I gasp to see two cardinals appear.
Then farther on, I spot a white-tailed doe!
She calmly meets my gaze and shows no fear.
I can’t imagine in this place a foe!
The trees, unwounded, stand with dignity.
And whether skies be bright or overcast,
they guard this realm, and one will shelter me.
I kick off shoes and stop for a repast.
Now barefoot and relaxed, I write this poem
in quietude of Mother Nature’s home.
For The Tree contest
sponsored by Constance La France ~a Rambling Poet~
For Brian Strand's
ANY OF YOUR 2011 poems any theme/any form max 16 lines Poetry Contest