Long Charade Poems
Long Charade Poems. Below are the most popular long Charade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Charade poems by poem length and keyword.
Its wet and drear in London dear, the pomp in on full trope
Though hope is gone, not dead for Jesus is the only hope!
Its foolish to trust in others; dopes.' In robes and words
In fear and force, its hackneyed ethos, solid dross of course
One hundred mill, so bums can sit.' and ears listen to
Waffle and some titter, and scraps and traps such slippery
Tounges we'll no doubt hear, yet will we sum? A throne of
Gold in a nation sold, to the w e f, just same old same old.'
The crowds are thin, not much the din' dis-enchantment is
Setting in.' geriatrics in phylactics gather and throng how
Can such traversitys continue on? Food in piles is stored
Away, as childen are hungered, its the British way.' Some
Vassels also, it seems agree although; their people need
To be set free.! Free to thrive to grow and prosper, yet to no
Reason i now return, to the parody of vanitys and a useless
Crown ' thats just the head though, i'll make this clear on
A British day of pomp and drear, might he take a little trip?
Before the throne..As ascends he it.' Twould be indicative of
The wider nation, that needs a real King not this Abberation.'
Hats are such a marvel,
when the weather is so garbled,
A multitude of quick coverlets to warm the brain
protect the head from snow, wind and rain.
A dapper, flamboyant chapeau
to quickly dawn where ever you might go,
A fedora brandished by some handsome man
that would display his appealing stand.
A stetson for the guy from Texas
who stands tall before the rest of us.
A tam, a topper
a Panama show stopper.
Some pretty little girl in a bonnet
that inspires a Shakespearean sonnet.
Better yet, a woman's choice of millinery
to walk a fashion show off fritillary.
To church or same gandiose Easter parade
that gleams and stands above the seasonal charade.
Hats are such a blessing
when the cold requires warm protective dressing.
The prediction is for gusty winds and cold,
hats need only be warm not necessarily bold.
Take your pick
but make it quick
your nose, your face, your head
need covering, that goes unsaid.
as temperatures drop
I know your face
hidden behind the mask
imagining your frown or your smile cast
that wrinkled brow taken all to task,
that raised lip holding back your words now asked,
welcome to the masquerade,
the ball started hours ago without visible faces at this parade;
but now your here in our deluded charade
ready for the ballroom trot and tears escapade.
Smile for me
with your cheeks raised
lips pursing in an unseen smile ablaze
clamoring for wiser folks to passionately praise
that old and the young mesmerized in the pandemic maze,
keep that mask clear of any virus trace
covering your beautiful protected space
enticing and enamoring the mystery and grace
of all the hidden emotion upon your face.
Script for a Jester’s Fears
The jokester smiles from below her joke another yoke lifted
into fears unbeknown to the mesmerized delirious crowd
A gathering of lonely forsaken shadows pretending the light
sheds roars of laughter jingles in sad comedy misses the pun
They scribe distance together in vacuum cannot feel joyful void
beauty of reflected nothingness escapes the audience’s grasp
Distressed trepidation rests in the clamorous jester’s charade
sceptre swings to the pulse of tambourine rescues the bells
‘I can do this once more and for all’ she convinces her mask
‘I may crush my persona for no one to see’ grimace or not
Slowly the makeup melts and soothes blisters of wisdom
reveals prudence in insight condenses parabolic acumen
Fool’s cap captures the moment choreography fades true to
the nature of being when a genuine smile dispels humorous guise
25th April 2017
The Veil of Vanity
In the depths where shadows weave and whispers sigh,
A macabre waltz beneath vanity's gilded sky,
In a realm where shallowness reigns supreme,
Beneath the mask of pride, empty souls scream.
Behind the façade of vanity's guise,
Lurks humanity's core, where ugliness lies,
Each face adorned with entitlement's cloak,
Concealing hubris, in shadows bespoke.
Witness the visage of mortality's might,
Embrace eerie allure in decay's pale moonlight,
Obsessed with beauty's ephemeral glow,
Chasing illusions, as time's sands flow.
Lift the veil, unleash truth's mournful wail,
Reveal the depths where narcissism sets sail,
In a world devoid of character or grace,
Where souls chase hollow praise, a vain embrace.
In this dance of light and shade,
We find ourselves trapped in grand charade,
For what is beauty but a fleeting dream?
But a fickle flame, in the silver moon's gleam.
Beneath the surface, behind veiled eyes,
Lies the truth, a truth we dare not recognize,
In our quest for validation’s embrace,
We lose ourselves, in vanity's maze.
So peel back the flesh, behold the truth,
In this realm of fading beauty and youth,
We are but mortals, frail and weak,
Chasing a life that’s fleeting and bleak.
-Edward
My heart whispers to the ear of longing
To ask for reasons that love has not come
Though each breath yearns for a love's belonging
Till' then a great sadness will overcome
I find no one that has held me worthy
No kiss that has a hunger for my lips
All bare witness to judge me unworthy
And let fall my hand from their fingertips
The night holds me alone in dim-lit-shade
As I search my soul's dark farthest threshold
And dance with a dreamer shadowed charade
To find love true before my heart grows old
May the far reaches of my heart find love
Upon the hills where I lay to dream of
7/17/21
contest Whispers
sponsor John Lawless
"Life is way too short to keep
friends that break your heart. "
Quote _by Constance
A fig leaf coverup,
a friendship that was just a figment;
a charade with an ultimate breakup,
for it was a friendship with no pigment.
Evil hidden by a thick cloak,
your camouflage of friendship- I now revoke;
your false mask of kindness has been broke.
Oh, I was blind,
as your charade into my life twined;
you played with my accepting mind.
Now, your ugly true colors are revealed- and I cleanup,
I pulled back this fig leaf figment;
and all tendrils of fake friendship- I choke,
in my life you are now just a distasteful segment.
_____________________
March 29, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Fig Leaf
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1444-225-29
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Theme - chosen - Fig Leaf
Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol 11
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 04/22/2022
Third Place
Balmy summer air to southern climes doth repair
On horizon, blue azure panels shaded with smoky tincture
Silky, white fondue relpaced by pallid, silver hue
Fondling, summer breezes; gripping, autumnal wind freezes
Cooling waves react with fertile leaves; amber gown doth
retract
Nutrient-rich chlorophyll doth spill and sugary saps rill
Anon, doth ween a bright, colorful sheen
Golden crescents and cherry strobes with lobes iridescent
Rounded discs on Global Willow in creamy glaze mellow
Spiny-toothed, Red Oak leaves flossed with reddish-
green gloss
Sugar Maple stars bathed in a bright pumpkin lathe
Ovular Blue Beech blades are brushed with a brackish rust
Veins of Aspen heart umbrella bleed bright yellow
Pentagram lobes of Sweet Gum gilded with purple robes
After scintillating charade, garnished blades began to
fade
Leaves' life-giving juices the stout bough refuses
Nutritious store salvaging trunk doth score
The regal, shimmering gown now shriveling crown
A duller shade of brown on the crumpled folds redound
Last gasp, its withering anchor doth cast
Descending from mercurial splendor to mother natures
blender
August 21, 2012
Primal play plots where wit wonders,
Rhymes rapture ripe in dreamy dance;
Imprint threads thought where words wander,
Voice subtly pipes echoes in trance;
Ask ample aide to cast fond spells,
Touch thrilling times as passion streams;
End with fine trade just where love dwells.
Pretty poise primes fine private dreams,
Align pure heart with charm's charade;
See special sights as you embrace,
Seek sensuous start as touch parades;
Intuit warm light to greet grand grace,
Obsess just now soul's mindful quest,
Note then somehow blessings of zest.
Leon Enriquez
12 May 2016
Singapore
Is my life a toy, tossed in the hands of fate?
Pulled apart by cruelty, yet I refuse to break.
If not vindictive, then why this cold disdain?
Am I merely dust beneath your twisted game?
You cast me aside like whispers in the wind,
Unseen, unheard, dismissed without regret.
But I exist beyond your silent rage,
A storm too fierce for you to forget.
Do I not matter in your grand vendetta,
When my hands have never spilled deceit?
Yet you sharpen knives against my back,
A war waged for sins I did not meet.
Crucify me? How convenient your illusion,
To paint me villain while you wear the throne.
But I dance through your fire with a jester’s grin,
Mocking the chains you dare to impose.
Let them fear my laughter in the dark,
Let them choke on the echoes they create.
For I am no puppet in their cruel charade,
I am the poet of my own fate.
So call me fool, call me weak, call me lost,
But watch me rise while they remain bound.
The joke is theirs to bear alone—
I hold the pen, and rewrite the sound.