Long Cobweb Poems

Long Cobweb Poems. Below are the most popular long Cobweb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cobweb poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Sadie and I

Why do you keep up this ambiance? I asked Sadie.
Her house was a Bohemian’s catchall place.
A cobweb full of delightful piles and paints.
Half finished canvases, beautiful embroidered scarves.

See? She is not a witch, I told my persnickety girlfriend.
Ooh! She said. “Is that a cobweb?” It was; inside the house.
Sadie brought in the tea kettle and mentioned Earl Gray.
My girlfriend ran off screaming, due to the kettle’s teeth.

I love things that are whimsical and fun; so, I stayed.
Sharing a delightful afternoon with a recluse who is hilarious.
I went back many more times; but did not convey it to others.
Sadie liked her reputation as the neighborhood witch.

It goes along with my rune readings and my soothsaying.
She taught me this, palmistry and how to read auras.
You have the gift of second sight, she told me.
You knew your friend would run out screaming.

I could not deny it. I knew that she knew that I knew.
I was now smiling as widely as her crazy teapot.
Sadie was my best teacher; I was proud to know her.
We still commune, even though she is beyond the veil.
Form: Narrative


A Moment In Time

A glistening cobweb, on an old timber gate

Rainbows reside in each drop of morns dew.

Thin strands of white mist in the sun dissipate 

A scurrying mouse, weaving through the fescue.

  

Black and white offspring of a paradise duck

Fronds of a fern beckon new life in their curl

Bees seeking sweetness into bright blooms do tuck

While a gecko peeks out and departs in a twirl.

  

Rata flowers explode with vibrant red lines

While fantails flush insects with spirited style.

Tangles of foliage making balanced designs

Stopping and watching this instant worthwhile.

  

Gone the hustle and bustle of  rushing around

Enjoying the pleasure of simple wonders to see.

Never invisible these sights that are drowned

Yet infrequently treasured by both you and me.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Shine On Me, Sunshine - Poetry Writing 1

Shine on me, Sunshine

Pretty woman where do your secrets lie
Empty arms and stolen dreams
Your stares of cold pale blue
Lavender brazen fire moods

You walk into a room bold and without shame
     With a smile on your face
          Swing of your hips
               A twist of the wrist
                    Phenomenal women you are

What secrets lie in the cobweb cavern tomb?
Your heart honeycomb of pain endured
No one can touch that beautifully cry
Your poems make me some what kind of  discern and sigh
No one could mend and fill your worn out shoes

     But you still
          With a smile on your face
               Swing of your hips
                    A twist of the wrist
                         Phenomenal women you are

By: Eve Roper 12/15/2015

A tribute to our wonderful girl Broken Wing 

Free Verse

Free Verse is an irregular form of poetry in which the content free of traditional rules of versification, (freedom from fixed meter or rhyme).

In moving from line to line, the poet's main consideration is where to insert line breaks. Some ways of doing this include breaking the line where there is a natural pause or at a point of suspense for the reader.

I love the freedom Free Verse gives me. I wrote a poem on 11/1/2015 why I like Free Verse if anyone is interested in reading. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/free_verse_722977


For the contest, Poetry Writing #1, sponsor, Broken Wings
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Shadows Within the Blind Spot

Knowledge is the key in this modern world 
the truth can neither deceive nor be deceived 
a fractured coil has so many errors to put right 
very hard to know where to start or begin directing 
powdering over them dusting every cobweb in years researching
My God as so big and so strong and so mighty 
There is nothing my God cannot do 
to be brutally honest from the heart existing 
banks are now disguised as a country stealing wealth 
I do not understand a vast majority of people these days 
there is no point in beating around the bush with tender words 
it feels like one has entered a different world filled with bitterness 
everything revolves around hating something or someone 
The silence is deafening when you use a bit of logic 
anti social has used a net covering putting a blanket over facts 
deeper and deeper they sink beneath human dignity 
No respect for Wisdom challenging them to a debate without conflict 
to learn is to be quick to listen when instructing the ignorant speaks with volume cowards 
quite as a mouse then will begin to listen under troubled gnashing teeth 
lost cursing is their only educated reply throwing a few blind personal words in reply of the subject 
declaring war under radical terms examined without foundations 
We cannot undo the past we need to fact check what lies ahead of us 
St Agustine of Hippo said 
People hate the Truth for the sake of whatever it is they love more than the truth 
they love truth when it shines warmly on them and hate it when it rebukes them 
Faith is to believe what you do not see 
the reward of Faith is to see what you believe

dream vision

Cobweb of visions

It was a clear day, perhaps too lucid
mother sat in the kitchen, sunlight made her white hair 
into a halo 
I asked how old she was, ninety-two she said 
I knew I was trapped in a dream, she didn't live that long 
By the slow-flowing river, I saw furniture drifting down 
my brother said people who lived downstream
went upstream to buy pieces of furniture at a factory that made them cheaply
to save on the cost of transport cost furniture bought were
dropped into the river, where relatives of the downstream dwellers picked them up
Sometimes a table or a commode was lost, a risk they 
willing to take
I knew this was a dream, he was telling a joke, which was odd since he died, a long time ago 
I was walking along a soft forest road when I noticed something was not right, a strange red light emitted among the trees making the forest mysterious
I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian
by breaking out I destroyed wonderful art
the painter's name was Fjodor his surname, was too difficult 
to remember.
It is dawn, but I'm not so sure, reality can appear confusing so early on a Monday morning, or perhaps
a dream doesn't care about time
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


Tonight I Will Dream The Strangest Dreams

Tonight I will dream the strangest dreams. 
I will say not "I am" but "I am yours" 
For otherwise the statement is merely axiomatic. 
Tonight I will dream the strangest dreams 
And the absolute exists within the relative 
Which exists within the absolute. 
I will say not, "Do I dare" but "I am alive" 
And "I recognize" and "I know" and most importantly 
"I love therefore I am." 
Do I need to say the I before I can say I love you? 
Or is love the bridge between I and You that makes both come to life? 
Tonight I will dream strangest dreams 
And in my delirious expectation 
Will arise a palace of love 
From which will be glimpsed a new world. 
Tonight I will dream strangest dreams 
Of a cobweb that will shine itself through me 
And with its unrelenting viscosity reveal to the world the creatures it holds. 
It is not I 
It is not you 
It is not everything and nothing 
It is just life spread between tree limbs and flapping in the wind 
Ensnaring what flies. 
Only today 
This evening 
As the sun goes down over the Potomac 
I will tell you 
How tonight I will dream the strangest dreams 
About love that lives through us both 
And illuminates souls with its light.

Suncatcher --Recited

A visitor—
icicle fingers
tapping on my windows' pain—
white blanket in tow

Hurting enough, I paid him no mind
so he kept tap, tap, tapping
‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared:
a final, gentle tap
shatters my windows
My rainbow world
now smothered, pallid,
forced into boredom and slumber,
sunlight chased away

and I am never the same again…

Soul gets plunged deep in the cold
blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity
there is an eerie stillness,
almost as if no one dared to breathe,
even the barren trees refused to quiver

brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky
futile though, for they are frozen,
grasping at nothingness,
clouds stubborn and stoic,
brooding in silent grayness

…and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes
palpable and brave~
it weaves its way through the branches,
gathering strength wherever it went
it beckons to the sky, which in turn

gives in and celebrates ~
letting dainty confetti fall
white, yet amazingly graceful  
each flake falls softly on the ground—
a fashionable brocade

trees softly sway now,
and dance to a winter song
the sky weeps with happiness
for seeing a glimpse of life—
diamond teardrops

they catch a bit of evasive sunlight,
of which I thought I’ve lost
and give birth to miniature rainbows…
all this time, Sunlight was there
I just 
never knew
how to 
catch 
it.




an audio of me reciting this poem

http://www.4shared.com/music/Q_tqp2LEba/suncatcher.html?#

dream vision

Cobweb of visions

It was a clear day, perhaps too lucid
mother sat in the kitchen, sunlight made her white hair 
into a halo 
I asked how old she was, ninety-two she said 
I knew I was trapped in a dream, she didn't live that long 
By the slow-flowing river, I saw furniture drifting down 
my brother said people who lived downstream
went upstream to buy pieces of furniture at a factory that made them cheaply
to save on the cost of transport cost furniture bought were
dropped into the river, where relatives of the downstream dwellers picked them up
Sometimes a table or a commode was lost, a risk they 
willing to take
I knew this was a dream, he was telling a joke, which was odd since he died, a long time ago 
I was walking along a soft forest road when I noticed something was not right, a strange red light emitted among the trees making the forest mysterious
I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian
by breaking out I destroyed wonderful art
the painter's name was Fjodor his surname, was too difficult 
to remember.
It is dawn, but I'm not so sure, reality can appear confusing so early on a Monday morning, or perhaps
a dream doesn't care about time
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Insects' Insecurities

If you see some ants, you will
A) trample them under your feet
B) feed them with leftover sweet
C) turn them into a yum treat
D) watch them catwalk down the street

If you see mosquitoes, you'll
A) swat them away with your hand
B) give them blood as they command
C) guide them back to their marshland
D) listen to their jazzy band

If you see a spider, you'll
A) watch it knit silken cobweb
B) honour it like a celeb
C) squash it with your broomstick's web
D) let it live till time will ebb

If you see a worm, you will
A) watch it wriggle and squiggle
B) poke it with stick and giggle
C) let it be free to wiggle
D) flatten it, no more jiggle

If you see cockroaches, you'll
A) let them dine on your cooked food
B) fry them deep or have them stewed
C) order them out, being rude
D) kill them and their growing brood



11th Feb 2023

For Suzanne Delaney's "Multiple choice poem" contest
Form: List

Premium Member September Rhapsody

 

"Every leaf speaks bliss to me fluttering from the autumn tree."

                                              Quote by _ Emily Bronte


September comes calm and quiet with beautiful landscapes and vivid colors.
Gusts of cool winds bring scents of bliss as I walk my favorite forest trails,
I escape, retreat into a place that is a balm of healing, spiritual and emotional.
My hair a flowing river, soft as a cobweb. The bird songs a musical rhapsody.


blue infinite sky 
and stained glass leaves are drifting ~
          beautiful decay

I talk to the autumn forest and it talks back.  The trees lament their children.
Those leaves falling and drifting, once green, now amber gold, red, yellow and
orange.  They have let their emerald cloaks fall to stand stark against the sky.
Oh, hush of autumn, the silent serenity, where clouds swirl like gauzy curtains.


a journey of paths
with a concerto of birds ~
        rapture and delight 

I want to paint a picture with words. To fill my poetry with beauty, reflections,
and emotions. I wish for you to feel the enchantment, experience the sights,
sounds, smells, and textures rich in details. To see in your mind the shapes,
the colors, hear the rustling leaves, the taste of rain with a sense of wonder.


drums of time have ceased
the old forest waits in peace ~
       and birds rhapsodize
Form: Haibun

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace