Long Charmed Poems
Long Charmed Poems. Below are the most popular long Charmed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Charmed poems by poem length and keyword.
Stella Williams was eight years old, living with her widowed mother-
Happily, though a bit lonely, like powder blue skies, sans sunset color.
The Williams lived in a rural area, with no child Stella's age, nearby.
A farmer in the valley, was the only neighbor, like waves of no reply.
Still, school hours were fun for Stella, like rollicking days of summer;
When plum sun, waltzed with stars of glitter, often going undercover.
Stella, at times, threw coins in their well, to wish for a special friend,
Besides the birds and blooms of beauty, and rolling hills of never end.
As faint rays forgive after furious storm, distant family came, finally;
In fancy days of dinnerplate dahlias, of gold, pink, or maroon vitality.
Stella lived in the house of empty rooms, that recollected sunny joys;
There the nostalgic past, argued with hopeful future, making no noise.
A purple path close to their front door, seemed painted with petunias;
In amethyst days of evening sparkle, and sunrises, the hue of peaches.
Numerous nightingales sang at hiigh noon, when new neighbors called;
In notable, precious moments, not ever forgotten-redolence enthralled!
'String of hearts plants,' trailed love petals, as 'oyster plant,' culled gems.
The rich pink, 'quill blooms,' shot daggers, like vexed queens, in diadems.
'Enchanting hostas' charmed summer moon, as 'elephant ears,' harked;
Then 'rising sun redbud' trees sang, with dawn on gloss petals, marked.
Stella still wandered to the well to wish, some afternoons and evenings,
As some yet gaze at mysterious stars, to uncover astrological meanings.
Stella was reading in her favorite spot, on a day of hot, persimmon sun;
And she looked up and saw a girl her age. A new friendship was begun!
Veronica was the daughter of the farmer in the dell, who was divorced;
And she was now living with him. Stella was invited to dinner, of course.
In time, Stella and her mom got to know, their nearest neighbors, well;
For Stella got her wish, when her mother married the farmer in the dell.
'The farmer in the dell.
The farmer in the dell.
Hi-ho, the derry-o!
The farmer in the dell.
The farmer takes a wife.
The farmer takes a wife.
Hi-ho, the derry-o!
The farmer takes a wife.
The wife takes a child.
The wife takes a child.
Hi-ho, the derry-o!
The wife takes a child.'
It's a wonder young children still turn out all right
With the stuff that gets crammed in their heads every night.
Things like visions of sugar plum fairies and sprites,
Or a thousand tales of Arabian delights,
A frog who turns prince with a kiss from a lass,
A girl who goes dancing in slippers of glass,
A cow that gets high and jumps over the moon,
A crockery dish that elopes with a spoon,
A boy who can fly but refuses to grow,
A difficult girl who plants maids in a row,
A magician who wants to trade old lamps for new,
A woman so poor she must live in a shoe,
A waif who sells matches out in the cold,
A king who can touch things and turn them to gold,
A dog, an old woman, a cupboard that's bare,
A girl locked in a tower, a ladder of hair,
A magical wheel that spins gold out of straw,
A guy helps a lion with a thorn in its paw,
A girl wearing red visits grandma who's resting,
Finds a wolf in her nightdress and Granny digesting,
Three kids and a wardrobe, three men share a tub,
A brave tailor kills seven mean flies with a club,
An archer makes merry with men in the woods
While relieving the rich of their money and goods,
Kind huntsman, fair princess, a vain evil queen,
Seven dwarves, and a prince who gets caught in between,
Hateful fairy, a baby, a hundred-year snit
'cause her name's accidentally left off a guest list,
A piper who lures out of town rodent varmints,
An emperor with new but invisible garments,
A farmer's wife butchers three handicapped mice,
A house drops on top of a witch who's not nice,
While another with gingerbread children seduces
Then gets baked by some twins in her own savory juices,
A giant and a beanstalk, a cat who wears boots,
A wolf who's outfoxed by three pigs in cahoots,
A bad little boy who sticks fingers in pies,
And another of wood whose nose grows when he lies.
There are others, of course, far too many to mention,
But I hope these will serve to excite some attention.
With stories like these knocking 'round in their heads,
It's no wonder if kids toss and turn in their beds.
Yet throughout countless ages these stories survive,
Kids listen, and dream them, and still wake up alive,
No worse for having been charmed or affrighted,
Imaginations are stoked, little minds are ignited,
And continue to hold them in dear veneration
As they pass them along to the next generation.
What's in writing?
What makes one to author something from the absolute scratch?
What is the science of this art?
Is it just the perceptible version of the human thought or something-deep lies within this solemn form of art?
The little magic of letters, the funny games between the lines…..
The kinship of paragraphs and hence the literal tribute to the risk that architects the inner thoughts that gloriously shapes the unyielding passion for a literary style and way of life.
Behind the veil of shadow charmed words, dwells the writer-man.
Who, armed with pen, tirelessly searches beneath the debris of feelings and desires,
And simply treasures the moments that designs this lissome piece of art.
Composing words
With skilled engineering of ideas that run down through the alleyways of mind…..
The writer-man illustrates the canvas where emotions are drawn,
Reflections are sketched,
And tales are told with human color and ardent strokes.
All those whispers of the little voice inside…
Wondering around the spaces between fiction and reality…
And all the conversation between the mind, heart and all the musings of the soul,
Where do they all go?
Locked up in the bubble of time?
Chained up by the codes of life?
Surely, beings in us desperately struggle to breathe in this secular sphere of ever expanding confusion.
In the quest for freedom, the spirit in us excavates our very soul,
And vibrantly surfs on the waves of emotions and loans ear to the assembly of million thoughts that continually circle around our misconstrued mind.
And often by the shape of words
These inner thoughts find their way out,
As they gently sail through our consciousness and make their way into the light.
The alchemy of alphabets allows us to have a glimpse of ourselves by streaming down soul's rearview mirror.
And the key to enter upon the realm of words lies on the urge of willingness to declare the innersole and the ultimate self.
Penning down the casual percepts and the untamed imagination could always open up the magical door to an unpredictable certainty.
Dodging the reality it creates a sense of belonging in a world,
That is designed to fit the shape of one’s true conscience,
Whether simple or mystical,
It surely travels right at the heart route.
(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.
"Kris Kringle Kisses Kalliope"
A Dream: the 4th Christmas.
deck the halls
with memories
poets whisper pasts
that are ne’er forgotten
where presents
a life
that’s neatly wrapped
and attempts at
frostily forgotten
tucked under
that big
beautiful
green fir tree
where all the dreams
of poets go
gold starred, tinselled
and angel mounted
ripe cherries
kissed
crassly
under mistletoe
Ah Christmas
capture me up
in your safe
magic arms
let me sip
the nectar from
your sweet eggnog cups
like Puck’s flower flows
on sultry lips
and eyelids
“love-in-idleness”
"The juice of it
on sleeping eyelids laid
will make man
or woman
madly dote
upon the next
live creature
that it sees”
poet or pup
crimson berries crushed
against a velvet tongue
bedazzled and
bewitched
fires crackling
logs like legs
drop and wrap around
the flames
while in my dreams
I await beneath
the sugar coated
blankets of a bed
charmed by snowflakes
dusting houses in a row
through misted windows
where “paper people....
dream
their cardboard dreams”
“how unreal
the whole thing seems
can we be living in a world
that is made of paper mache?
Everything is clean
and so neat
anything that is wrong
can be just swept away”
inside is very still...
not shaken
like a snowglobe -
surreal
damned be
the dams of
Love-in-Idleness
where eyes reflect
your shadow
in my dream
like opium smoke
across cracked glass
remember how we
all once were
some beautiful happy
if we could just pull the chord
so fresh out of ...
class
rewind our time
rewind it
to yesterday
like a toy
across the
ocean bobbing
like a buoy
an Iceberg keens and cries
Nutcracker twirls
Sugarplum
Kris Kringle Kisses
Kalliope
Oberon...
reals
Titania in
Slo mo’
Magic
mmm
Romance
lacy
frosty
melting
snow.
An iceberg cries
in time with
Christmas eyes
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
“Paper Mache” / Dionne Warwick
https://youtu.be/85TK2Bia6w8
"There must have been some magic in
That old top hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
He began to dance around"
SUN-BLOCK
Your sunset-sanctioned skin ignite melody to boredom world
Your gently pearling smile charm the attention of morning sun.
Your charmed souls burn in nuclear passion
To absorb the bombardment of your ink
You are the unsolved mystery of existence
By pd
The sunrises 10 feet off the ground
This place carried the eternal light I need for my soul to soar.
Like the clouds every poet brush away my blues with one simple smile
Writing ignited my heartbeat to flicker like a candlewick non-stop.
I hold that piece of puzzle that makes my existence complete
Elegantly you walk, Venus-like
Printing glory-of-gods on excited earth
Holding hostage your admirers' eyes
With your Gabriel-censored attire
You are truly the mystery of existence
By pd
My eyes I keep holding on tight.
Gathering dangerous looks, from every poets eyes.
Striking like a speed of thunder bolt,
I fell weak like an addict to my admires streak of rays'
I'm the piece of puzzle that makes my own existence complete
Oh beautiful empress of poetry soup.
Wake thy muse and shake off the dust of block
Your fans are in inferno hunger of your welded words
Feed us again, your poetic meal that somersault the arrows of critic
For you are the unsolved mystery of existence
By pd
A great source to gather the best light here on the soup.
I found my heart beating like a rush~ spontaneous
Imaging every poem that helps me get lost in the moment
I wrote against and among the best to be like the rest
For I'm that unsolved piece of puzzle that makes my existence complete
You are kinder than nature, more hospitable than mother earth
Man and woman scramble for shelter in your cheerful hearts
For your contest, all thoughts erect pines of words
With rush of the sea storm
P.D. (( Linda )) is the unsolved mystery of existence
By pd
Losing myself to reality, this is not like me to fall into deep.
Times maybe hard, not even a simple song to poet my mind.
The truth is, the sun has blinded me with love, and I have no SUN-BLOCK
Until my instincts tells me otherwise, I will find my way back to all my fans * true or not
I (IRMA~LINDA) am responsible for the happiness of my mysterious existence.
BY : JOSEPH & LINDA
For Pd's collab with me contest
Eerily, I seem to wake
At the droning dusk
To feed my hate
To quench my lust
To salvage the young
And drink them clear of their sweet rum.
Hauntingly, I approach.
As quiet as a rodents burst
Danger sends its shuddering calls
But a new victim still responds
He arrives in all uncertainty
Every step revealing an immaculate beauty.
The steady rhythm of his heart
Soars gloriously as the distance departs
How entranced he seems at the sight
Of this dainty maiden lost on this deep dark night
He smirks finally in victory
As he lifts her head to calm her imploringly
The sound of the wine
She hears within
Her thirst commands her to begin
Summoning the demon to arise again
And in her haste she embraces him
His musky scent mingling with her skin
In control he smirks again
Obliviously sinking closer to her chin
Ah! How perfect it all seems
He moves so enthusiastically
Ah kiss that rests between her breasts
In rapture she moans his sweet success
How naïve my child you have been
To fall for this beauties charms, such a sin.
Her fangs revealed in all luminosity
Kissing his neck she groans pleadingly
Swift as a cat she sinks them in
Drinking this wine, that’s so sweetly divine
In fear he screams, so diligently
Like every other victim, so obediently
Finally submitting to this sweet end
He is charmed much more, and he starts to soar
She holds him closer presuming it best
And devours his existence so full of zest.
As death opens to him her inviting gates
He pleads with this beauty to reconsider his state
“Take me alluring beauty, take me with you
I sell my soul submissively to you
Take me sweet princess, oh princess of death
Make me like you, ever so gently I beg.”
Alarmed yet unfocused
She cries once again
“I shan’t my sweet child, this I must forbid.
For a life till eternity, is something I do not wish
So lonely and vile, an existence it is
So addictive and filthy and sickeningly dismissed.”
“Forgive thee, my child.
I render not this
But, kiss ye goodbye
So thou can attain endless bliss.”
With those words, death claims her mesmerizing win
Once again victorious she returns to her inn.
So still with sorrow, but radiant with her feed
She is swept away by the dawn
As it arrives so steadily
Come sleep my ravenous one, rest your demonic self
Sleep ever so peacefully,
So you may rise to feed once again.
By
Amanda.M.Miller
I.
Eros walked slowly through the forestland,
Near Mount Olympus, in the soft twilight.
By his side, he held his bow in his hand,
As he walked on through the advancing night.
Above the forest, the evening was clear,
As a full moon lit up the mountain’s peak,
An endless number of stars filled the skies.
Through the trees, he saw a wandering deer,
That appeared to be searching for a creek—
He quickly followed its path with his eyes.
II.
Reaching back into his quiver with care,
Eros placed an arrow within his bow.
He quietly raised the bow in the air,
Then he slowly crouched his body down low.
He watched the deer at the creek quench its thirst,
As he swiftly trailed it through the thick brush—
Suddenly, there came a beautiful sound.
The music startled both of them at first,
Then Eros and the deer left in a rush—
The arrow fell from his bow to the ground.
III.
As they both followed the sound of the lyre,
They then found themselves now coming nearer
To a woman on a rock near a fire—
Her sound and her beauty became clearer.
The deer slowed down from the pace which it ran,
And shook the loose leaves away from its fur—
Erato had brought an end to the hunt.
Her playing always charmed both beast and man—
The deer calmly listened from behind her,
And Eros stood enamored from the front.
IV.
They listened together, as she played on,
Wearing myrtle and roses in her crown.
Further into her presence, they were drawn—
Surrendering, Eros placed his bow down.
In the moonlight, Erato’s tunic flowed,
Appearing light blue within the green trees,
And her golden lyre began to glisten.
The fading embers of her campfire glowed,
And remained burning in the gentle breeze—
Eros stood and continued to listen.
V.
Overhead, the moon hid behind a cloud,
The fire was soon extinguished in the dark.
Her playing became increasingly loud,
And the fire reignited with a spark.
The playing then soon silenced in the night—
Her precious lyre upon the rock she placed,
And handed Eros a golden arrow.
He then watched the deer leave in the firelight—
Being thankful, for their presence it graced,
And for the sounds from the clearings narrow.
© 2023
1MDB Walking Free
Talk about living charmed lives for some people in positions of power.....
The latest involve news of the latest appointments of certain financial figures...
News about President elect Donald Trump's handpicking of certain people..
To spearhead his primary rallying call to make America great again...
Looks to be a potential pooling of people linked to 1MDB unsavoury fame...
No less than 3 of his latest appointees are tarred with the 1MDB brush of shame...
The latter being of course undeniably the world's largest Ponzi Scheme....
Spearheaded by a well derided kleptomaniac who is mysteriously referred to as MO1...
MO1 is a Malaysian Official leader, who conspired with crooks, and siphoned off billions ....
In an financial scandal to involves investigation that requires no less than 8 nations..
Despite their dubious links to 1MDB shame through the company they once served ...
A most reputable, respected and established financial entity called Goldman Sachs...
Gary Cohn, Steve Bannon and Steven Mnuchin are 3 top notched economic advisers.....
Recently appointed into the incoming Trump administration as key treasury officers.....
Rivalling the considerable financial clout wielded by the office of the Treasury Secretary..
Will incoming Attorney General Jeff Sessions drop the lawsuits by the U.S. Justice Department....
Will he be advised to finally set aside the high profile case of pursuing financial justice...
To seize assets that were the result of US$3.5 billion that was misappropriated from 1MDB...
If that happens, people, remember this Bolehland of infinite possibilities...
If it happens, “Mr. Dirty” MO1 could suddenly become “Mr. Clean” Mahatma Gandhi.....
Hohoho...
With Santa Claus coming for Xmas dinner, what gifts are there for long suffering Malaysians...
More infinite possibilities from corruptible individuals, from here to the highly esteemed US Judicial Office?...
This saga of 1MDB being the source of various slush funds that netted billions for MO1...
Will justice be seen done in the long run or will money and power brokers prevail as one...
And we see history bear witness that even in the highest office in the Land of the Free...
Alternative possibilities can happen and somehow charm the corrupted into walking free?....
After we turned from Africa we first lived in Cornwell and I got a job learning to be a riding instructor with Heather Hunt she was a tough lady to work for but her training was excellent I went on to some excellent jobs mainly in racing stables it was great fun especially when on the gallops just imagine a horse full of spirit fired up beneath you one false move and you would be dust as they threw you off. But us stable hands had lots of fun and some heavy drinking sessions. We moved to the midlands for more land and I ran a horse yard with 32 horses 5 which were my own that I did show jumping and eventing with. I had some success, high light was qualifying for Wembley but I lost in the morning so missed being on telly.
I got married which was a mistake and only lasted five days I knew T had done the wrong thing when in his speech my father said I had been offered a job in Germany at one of the top jumping stables and he had turned it down without telling me first. I sold up and went to London where I had a wild time became one of the few ladies allowed to wear full hell's angels colours.
Next I got involved in the music scene and had some very wild times I was Alex Harvey's partner for nearly 10 years those were fantastic, were really wild years but before him I was down near the recording studios on Denmark Street when a man came called Mike he was with the Bow Street Runners and asked me if my tan was all over I dont know why as I was very shy but answered wouldn't you like to know he took a step backwards and then said yes he would. So we had a steamy one night affair he only went on to become Fleetwood Mac oh yes.
Then I met Dougie Jenkinson and went to Jersey with him and my dog Champ who got us thrown off the camp side when he broke the tent trying to follow us. we ended up on the cliffs in our own tent where we lived for about six weeks cooking over an open fire and using a hotel shower where a friend worked. When we returned to London we decided to go to Scotland and so we hitched with Champ and got there eventually. One night on the way there we were dropped in a village miles from anywhere and it started to pour with rain we took shelter in a church porch overnight was the vicar ever so surprised to find us in the morning but he did give us breakfast.
to be continued
With excitement, and hearts beating with anticipation
Five of us held hands...as if declaring, "We're in this together!"...
We sped upwards,..into the clouds,...or so it seemed....
Enclosed in a silver capsule...like amateur astronauts, ...
A steel and concrete world of modern, miraculous, and amazing engineering!
Nervously, we looked at one another with the same wide eyed expressions.
"We are such country bumpkins!...."Do we look it?" I laughingly asked my husband....
"Hey, kids ! We're almost there...can you believe it??"
"We're almost to the top!!"
A soft spoken gentleman, wearing a bushy, yet neatly trimmed, mustache,
smiled and said to us...."Your first time, I can see?"..
He wore a uniform, (our host, a guide, I supposed)....he had the kindest smile.
"If you like,....I can point out places of interest for your children?"...he offered kindly.
Our three children nodded in delight.
Doors opened at last, and we stepped into a large room
We made our way through the milling crowd, and found a spot for observation.
Our mustached gentleman, chuckled when we gasped for air
As we looked for the first time at the breathtaking views
It was if we were looking down from the heavens...
City lights had just turned on, and we knew what it was like to look upon the stars...
Only, this time, they were below us...!
A magnificent city spread out before our eyes...
stunned, and speechless, we were breathless...
Our new friend pointed out Ellis Island, the bridges, Statue of Liberty...
"Oh yes", ....he said,...."over there, ....you can see almost into New Jersey"
"And there,...that is Staten Island. "Do you see the ferry?"
He charmed our young daughter, and impressed our sons with his knowledge..
Here we stood...on top of the world...inside this magnificent twin marvel....
Oh, dear God.....our innocence....who could know...?
Oh, dear God....the significance ....
one brief moment in time....
spent in the company of one kind gentleman who wore a friendly mustache
We will never forget that day................or him................. Oh, dear God....
~
Dedicated to a kind stranger....
____________________________
In honor of New York City at Dusk