Long Cobalt Poems
Long Cobalt Poems. Below are the most popular long Cobalt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cobalt poems by poem length and keyword.
The Lie
I am an insect waiting to be squashed!
I stare hard at the ground
as if fascinated, enthralled by it
while, above, eyes of cold-cobalt
wait to gouge and burrow out
any self-belief that might still remain.
“WELL?”
It always starts with that unsettling word.
Ironic as ‘well’ it certainly is not.
“COME ON!! I haven’t got all day!”
The next sharpened remark; his checkmate,
and the denouement usual swiftly follows.
I try to speak but my weighted words
require a wheelbarrow to carry them out.
I am snagged, on the jag, of repeated criticism
which over the years has shrunken me;
diluting my beleaguered confidence.
Most of my childhood years I understood
and welcomed the fluctuations of emotion
however the grammar and punctuation
of every day skirmishes of family life:
the questions marks, the exclamations, the..... ellipses
were rules, restrictions that became impossible to follow.
So here, once again, stands my father’s temper
attempting to confront nay dominate me.
At this point, if my body had consented,
I would have galloped over the nearest horizon
however all my moving parts had gathered together,
loitering, on a corner, spreading rumours and gossip
that had rendered me rigid and immobile!
My only escape, my bolt for freedom, lies… in the lie.
Yes, an untruth, that had lain in the top shelf
of my mind for many troubled days,
fermenting in its own insidious juices.
Now sliding treacherously from the corner of my mouth,
this worded assassin, homes ruthlessly on its target
…my firework of a father.
Suddenly his face tightens, a thought frightens,
his rigid body a jolt of electricity,
as disbelief snakes its way into his thinking.
His anger reddens, his reasoning darkens
and his fists…..boulder.
But the lie has lain down beside him
fabricating disappointment, bewilderment, distrust
deep into the windows of his eyes.. then...much deeper.
Gradually I turn the key in the ignition of my pride
carefully closing my hands, knitting my fingers,
creating a statement of both prayer and defiance.
Later a thought dangles in a corner of my mind,
a consideration, a contemplation of how far the lie
will layer down into my father’s subconscious
before he understands that the lie is a…
Trojan horse carrying … the truth!
Ian Souter
**~~**
She seemed to be like a delicate portrait
which had fallen from its gilded frame
Abandoned, lying face down on the cold winter floor
An elegant portrait once painted
In resplendent hues of indigo blue
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet
magenta colored sorrows bathed in tears
that etched themselves throughout
The frail intricately, woven canvas of her soul
Over time thoughtless hands had subtly
Contrived to manipulate the beauty
Of her painted portrait into a resemblance
Likened to that of a cold, chiseled statue
Carelessly molded by calloused fingers
Lancinating the fragile fragments
Of her spirit leaving her heart
With etiolated worn fabric - called her life
She dreamed of Icarus soaring down
on silvery wings of steel shrouded
in cobalt and lavender clouds
with outstretched, feathery fingers
lifting her up to dance a Stravinsky ballet
As it was meant to be - not how it was
She was a beautiful, fragile butterfly
bruised by a world much too harsh
for her diminished spirit
leaving her unable to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
making it difficult for her to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
It left her struggling to stay afloat
In the springs melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin
Gnawing away like insatiable insects
On her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling
Like a fabricated manikin on display
For all to pose her as they may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed
through her veins, holding her tethered heart
in fleshy, mounds of chocolate brown earth
It held her helpless in its hold
clogged by the silt which descended down
Into spaces of her soul…
Like murky strings of yellow tattered maize
Leaving their ragged tassels tangled
Throughout her life flowing veins
Choking off the blood she needed
To nourish her hungry heart
Mighty winds toppled her willowy limber tree
Snapping the delicate boughs
Of her outstretched arms
As they pulled at the tender fleshy bark of her skin
She stood cold and alone
In the icy winter night wrapped
Only in her wounded, naked flesh
With open, bleeding wounds
Under the icy blue mist of the winter moon
Her heart and soul painfully revealed...
In shades of indigo blue
**~~**
Glistening, like dewdrops on a frosted moment,
Glitter sparkling in September’s soul,
Stirring the spirit with heavy hopes, dreams
Alive in the one who can see beyond the traces of a chill,
Into the melancholic prayers, erasing soundless tears,
Embracing the sincerity of a heart who believes
Even the silence of the most vibrant trees – rhythms
Searching for the light who breaths
Beneath the weight of a mystery, autumn’s still, cool gasp
Praising the Creator of light, love, life
Flowing with stardust blessings, embracing
Winds of lavender time, in cobalt skies,
Twilight tempts the night to hear the silence,
Blessing the nestled leaves, the stunning breath
Defeating all the darkness with the grace,
Whispering through the light, glowing through time,
A heavenly night, falling on the hills
Blowing through the memories in tones of grace,
Raining down songs of hope, through the serenity,
Across the seas and through the valleys,
Past the Creator’s brilliant heavens,
Into the hues of an October melody,
Trembling beautiful, stars reflecting the gentle,
Sensing the creativity, the gestures of joy
Moments brimming with glowing thoughts,
Winds blowing through the oaks, the pines, the silence
Remembering what it means to believe,
In the One who continues to protect the seas,
The One who gives hope to you and me,
The Maker of the stars, the Creator of the trees,
The One who brings the stardust dreams,
Guides the soul and sends hearts true peace,
The One who I know, like I know autumn’s grief,
The One who takes me through the darkest dawns
Into the glowing moments, when light erases
Each evening’s black, with a hope that comes back
After the stardust autumn finally grieves
And takes the darkness with a sense of what it means
To just agree, He is the answer, the hope, the grace
That helps me to face each November night,
With the assurance that, someday – He’ll be coming back
Someday, all the glistening glow of stardust on Autumn leaves
Will remember the truth about the heart’s peace,
The assurance that comes from the soul’s true belief
In the One who brings spirits their most assured relief,
The promise of a heaven, where He’ll take away all grief,
The promise of a home where we’ll never have to leave,
A place where Autumn never feels the wings of each falling leaf.
People in my school have names for someone like me.
Freak, crazy, weirdo, a spawn by the devil's decree.
I took note of every malicious word they ever spoke,
knowing that before long they'd no longer make me a joke.
None of them knew how truthful were their mocking words.
They had no clue I could spread my wings to fly among the birds,
with ravens that caw out for blood at the stroke of each midnight.
I'd fill their haunting dreams with images of daunting fright.
A snip of dried herbs, a pinch of fungal root, boiled in fat of fowl,
a concoction for me to savor, secreted to me by my mother, an owl.
Eyes that see through bloodshot color, they would see them too
when the full moon was high and the sky turned dark cobalt blue.
No help will they receive from a scream or gyrations to be free.
They soon will know they should never have made a mockery of me.
The time is near, my brew is cooled, now it's my time to have fun.
Tonight their dreams will be nightmares, a gift from the evil one.
With their eyes closed, they will envision they are being chased
by hundreds of bloodshot eyes, the likes of which they've never faced.
Black robes adorned, scepter of wormwood waved from my hand.
Eyes... wild bloodshot eyes, will seek vengeance at my command.
Fog advances to the bedrooms of those who sleep in peace.
My adrenaline is pumping, just a few more minutes until release.
A snarl of satisfaction I feel curled upon my blood red lips.
You won't belittle me again with your taunting nocuous quips.
NOW! I gave the order for the eyes to creep into their dreams
But my heart is beating too fast. This was not part of my schemes.
I can't see a bloody thing. What's happened to the spell I cast?
How long will this blindness torture me? How long must it last?
A truant officer was sent to see what had become of the freak.
Through a window he saw many ravens, all with bloodied beak.
No body was discovered. All that remained was a robe of black
and a note scratched upon the floor. "Too late to take it back."
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
December 26th, 2015
Deep and Dark Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Cobalt storms; not azure skies,
predict changing seasons.
Vague ambiance of lies,
waltz with fated reasons.
So tug upon the corners,
try to veil the smile.
Gather all ye mourners,
weep for her awhile.
He knows that she flows,
rivers channel deep.
But ocean's floor below,
caress his troubled sleep.
Golden pair; wounded dreams,
silently entreat.
Moments slide between the screams,
stranded in the heat.
She can't draw inside the lines,
of howling winds deranged.
And up ahead; ominous signs,
the highway looks so strange.
But he can hold her brave will;
in his hands so tenderly,
not even strong enough to still,
his mind she cannot free.
He is the lust to breathe and fly;
his wings stay unused,
within her voice; an angel's sigh,
but the melody, confused.
When questions birth insanity,
saline begs for more.
But he can only hear and see,
the vision behind the door.
And he will toss; and he will turn,
until his eyes are bright.
But in the loss of orgasmic burn,
the other sighs in the night.
He cannot wait; the world is open,
quiet, he leaves the bed.
Heart is faith; pulse is broken,
but his soul must be fed.
With trembling hands; he gasps to feel,
her curves and body light.
Silken strands and he must kneel,
to deliver here tonight.
He hears soft cries; for all too soon,
the other is in pain.
As his soul dies; behind the moon,
denying need again.
Have you ever had to choose,
one over the other?
And you knew that you would lose,
giving up one lover?
Life is a composition,
he strives to hear the source.
He must create; orchestrate,
passion is the force.
When you read this piece of art,
you may think me wrong.
But I've heard the rhythm of this young man's heart,
and the music keeps him strong.
As he grows closer to his wife,
it's the stuff dreams are made of.
But from now til the end of his life,
he's alive in guitar love..
She seemed to be like a portrait...
which had fallen from its gilded frame
Abandoned...
Lying face down on the empty, cold wintry floor.
An elegantly created portrait once painted in striking hues of indigo blue.
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet, magenta colored sorrows
That etched themselves throughout the frail, intricately woven canvas of her soul
Over time...
Thoughtless hands subtly contrived and manipulated the beauty of her painted portrait Into a resemblance - likened to that of a cold chiseled statue
Calloused, careless fingers molded her - lancinating the fragile fragments of her spirit
Leaving her heart with the etoliated, worn material - called her life
She dreamed of Icarus - soaring down on steel wings
Shrouded in cobalt, magenta clouds- with outstretched, feathery fingers...
Lifting her up to dance with him in a Stravinsky ballet...
As it is was meant to be
Not how it was
She was a beautiful, delicate butterfly...
Bruised by many shadows in her world
Leaving her unable to fly away from its thirsting arid rain filled skies
It left her struggling to stay afloat in the spring's melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin...
Gnawing away like insatiable insects on her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling like a fabricated, plastic manikin on display...
For all to pose her as they selfishly may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed through her veins
Holding her tethered heart in fleshy, lumpy mounds of dark, chocolate brown earth
It held her helplessly clogged in the dirt...
That descended down in the empty spaces of her soul...
Like the muddied strings of yellow, tattered maize
That entwined their ragged tassels through her life flowing veins...
Choking off the blood she needed to nourish her weakened, hungry heart
Mighty winds toppled her willowy, limber tree...
Snapping the delicate boughs of her arms
As it pulled at the fleshy bark of her skin
She stood cold and alone in the cold wintry night...
Wrapped only in her naked flesh - with open, bleeding indigo wounds
Standing under the icy, mist of the cold, winter moon...
Her heart and soul painfully revealed - in shades of indigo blue
LadeeAnne~C@2011
Anne P Murray
A sense of completion in the
depth of our twining souls, existing as featherless angels, in this plastic world of diffusive masks, and veiled faces of insincerity and darkness, my Venus.
I feel in my veins the healing essence of your being, the lifeblood that nurtures and soothes my unseen wounds and agonies, with the balminess of your majestic seraphic aura—the sacred elixir of life, my Korean princess.
Devoted to you in your every breath, dying, inhaling and exhaling your existence in the glimmer of lunar and sun phases, illuminating my artistry of magic and poetry, with the shimmering light of your irresistible ebony eyes, where i see our future, my marvelous creature.
Our promises of tomorrow, to be the light and cure on our path of being featherless angels, fighting storms, adversities, turbulent currents of anxiety, as demon’s whisper deceit within my mind, flying towards cobalt skies of serenity, merging our spirits, becoming one, my blue rose.
In indigo twilight, your heartbeats rhythmically blends with mine, serenading love songs in mellifluous breathtaking melodies and symphonies of forever us, as i show you my devotion is deeper than the ocean, giving you hope and faith through my pure sentiments, gazing into my eyes upon an iridescent light of profound love, my beautiful soul.
I take and hold your hand tight, promising you to be your home, your shelter, your safe place in every lifetime, giving you all of me, wrapping you in a warm embrace, my blue butterfly.
I found my Eden when i met you, knowing that you were my eternal love, angel of mine from the first soft touch of your soul, grace, profundity in your inner beauty, for you are a rare special being sent to me here on Earth by God, to be by my side to the moon and back, everywhere you go, you illuminate my days and nights, where you have become my world, my reason for living, my juliet.
You give me strength, making me believe in myself when i lose my fight with hellacious nocturnal anxieties—you are my oxygen and my blessing, helping me thrive in this life, my great love.
You are me, i'm you,
together we are the sparkling constellation of forever and beyond astral cosmic connections, in aligment within our parallel universes.
Eternally you, the ocean of my breaths,
my infinito
I don't think we will need a map, do you?
Don't let me catch you speeding on this trip.
I’ve been to Oklahoma only once
back when I was a little girl of six.
I ran into a sticker patch barefoot,
sharp sticker and bare-feet it hurt so bad,
I think I may have cried for half the day
and I remember some huge tumbleweeds.
Did I turn off the stove after we ate?
We best go back to make sure that I did
we haven't gone that far, it want take long.
I'd like a glass of ice-tea anyway.
Did you check the back door before we left?
You getting hungry, yet? I think I am!
A Reuben-sandwich, I think would do fine
just like the one we had in San Antonio--
last year. Remember? Downtown? The hotel,
what was its name? The fancy place –you know
with charming little tables and wicker chairs.
I'm going to have to tinkle very soon.
Oh! Did you leave my makeup on the bed?
By the way, if Jill calls when we get home,
I am not talking to her. She told Fran
I talk too much; do you believe that Jill.
Jill's mouth is just as big as my big butt!
I'm thirsty and I want to get a coke.
On this trip; don’t let me step in excrement
like I did on our trip to New Orleans.
Remember how it smelled the car all-up,
I had to throw my shoes out the window,
and I loved those shoes; all but for the smell.
At the state line, do you think they have signs?
“Welcome to Oklahoma” type of signs.
If they do let me take a quick picture.
It won’t take long, I promise, just one shot
just to prove we were there, a bragging point,
you know; something to show when we get home.
Did you lock the front door? This time; I hope!
I bought a new night gown, its light cobalt
You’ll love it, it’s so sexy and I bought
new shoes with hard thick soles -damn sticker-weeds.
You see that sign back there? It looked so old,
it said “Dee Dee’s Café –Five miles ahead.”
Can we go back and take a quick picture?
Do you think they have Reuben-sandwiches?
A Dee Dee's sandwich would do me just fine.
Don't we need a pit-stop to get some gas?
And you are going to have to let me pee.
Should you have turned back there? At that crossroad?
I told you that you should have brought a map.
It feel like you are driving to darn fast.
Oh! STOP! --
if you see any tumbleweeds.
Beneath cerulean skies, boasting grace
Beyond measure, mountains
In emerald and cobalt, hues of indigo, softly
Pouring forth from the earth,
Marking the thoughts with the most clever
Silence, still as the gentle in a heart
Who hears His promises in the trembling
Mountains clinging to the skies,
Needless to say, they know the light
Who reflects the Son, whose love is come
To provide for the darkness,
Stars strewn over the night, abiding
So that forever can be felt, like tears
Falling gently over the forests and hills,
Over the moments who glisten
With everlasting truth, praises come easy
Like flames bursting from the prayers
Who remember He is with us, He is here,
Always near where we can feel Him
Overshadowing the doubts, the sorrows,
Reassuring and encouraging,
Remembering that we’re His admirers,
Praising softly, but with passion
Presenting Him with adorations, worship
In harmony with the mountains,
The skies, the trembling seas and forests,
All the reasons that He is the moment
Between twilight’s glow
And the flow of a hope that never knows
But always knows…
He is the One who made a way
So I can sincerely pray
So I can truly say…
Love found me and love saved me
So I’m forever praising
This love – He is so amazing!
As the mountains climb higher and higher,
Reaching beyond the stars…
It feels like the music is pouring out
Songs of grace, hymns of thanks,
Joy that lasts and lasts and lasts…
Beyond forever, clinging to everlasting,
Erasing the fears, the tears, the years
Before I knew Him as my Savior,
Before I knew Him as my King
Before I knew Him as EVERYTHING!
As the mountains tremble, roaring at the seas,
Winds challenge me to listen
To the music of His sweet peace,
The joy that comes from believing,
The wonder that defies all reason,
The miracle of redemption…
I’m so thankful that He is with me
I’m so thankful that He helped me
To hear the song that He’s always been singing,
The love that is beyond any dream,
The music that plays deep inside, where He resides,
Restoring me so I’ll forever be with Him,
The One who delivered me from my past,
The One who saved me from the depths of hell.
I’m so thankful to know Him as my friend!
When I think of what to write
often the ocean comes to mind
Endless sea of pretty blue
and stretched out horizon lines,
impossibly flat
Yet when I actually arrive
it isn't the sea that my eyes
take a liking too
Rather it's just below the waves
my mind does go...
...to the little trinkets
beside my toes
Fossils of sea creatures,
alive one - and now, even in death -
you can see the beauty of their features
Seashells of every shape and hue
(even if they're familiar,
somehow they're always new)
Some are inky black or cobalt blue,
creamy whites and nutty browns
(pretty oranges, too!)
Some are hefty like a throwing stone,
others quite miniscule,
blending in with the sand
Some are fragile -breaking easier
than the waves-
others are like a hardened sunrise
Their well defined rays,
my fingers always finds themselves,
unbidden as an eye-blink
(as unthinking as a smile)
I like the clanky sound they make
when lightly shook in a mason jar
I shake them like dice in cupped hands
(loaded, in my case...
I don't gamble with a good time)
Yeah, when it comes to the beach
I'm like a kid at a candy store
My treats aren't in bins,
but glisten on the sandy shore
I scoop them in my hands,
still wet with the sea
Stick them in my pockets,
if the case need be
(and you know it always does
if I'm being honest)
Where it gets me, I don't know,
but, please,
just one more keepsake!
(this simple joy I try to harness)
I pick up a second then a third
while still admiring the first
A dozen or two, is only of mild concern
(a wagon-full is even worse)
Yes
It is an obsession through and through
I could be just as happy with one
as with a thousand
(maybe happiness isn't something
you can attach a number too)
And I don't know why I do it,
treasure to me (but not for thee)
And even rarity isn't an excuse
You can pick them up by the shovel,
they aren't difficult to find
You can count a hundred alone
within arms reach
(maybe joy doesn't have to be rare,
but can be as common as clouds...
maybe it's not something "out there",
but somewhere near,
even to the ground)
Near as an object
lying beside your feet
Near as a thought that came to you...
...while walking on the beach