Long Collage Poems
Long Collage Poems. Below are the most popular long Collage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Collage poems by poem length and keyword.
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"
John Ruskin, 1853
A collage of memories adorn the walls of my heart.
Some appear and bring a smile, the worthwhile ones
that shine like faceted diamonds in the midnight sky.
Indelible are my visions of births, marriage and days
when life offered more rewards than I felt I deserved.
But there are also deaths; those jagged shards,
that cut me like sharpened spears of broken glass.
They're bitter weapons that cause me pain
with each remembered slash that opened a new wound.
Oh, such strife, anguish, and tidal waves
of regrets that leave me shipwrecked and alone.
There are snippets and scraps of our wedding day,
shrouded and shadowed now...
Those pictures are finger worn, edges bent
from turning them often, when I feel forlorn
and miss your arms around me
.
Love comes without safeguards and guarantees
so please, dear heart,
don't bring those echoes of the past to mind.
I've come to grips with my brokenness
until moonlight reminds me of what used to be.
In that moment I'm wistful and somber
stumbling in the darkness...
trying to climb from the gloom of a deep abyss.
September 1, 2020
All The Little Pieces Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Knock-knock, Come in, hey Bernie what’s up? Harry, you want to go to Peru?
Peru? What’s in Peru? Active volcanoes! I’m going to jump into one. WHAT?
Abby left me and I have nothing to live for. Bernie, I’m not Dr. Kevorkian.
Come on H, I already have the tickets, one round trip for you to come home.
Pack your 35 milliliter camera with the zoom lens and let’s go to Peru.
Bernie, my camera, and I at the west base of Ubinas; outside of Lima, Peru
The smell of hot wafting through the ashen skies, Ubinas is very active
Take a picture of this H, Bernie held up a 15x8 foot sign : Abby I LOVE YOU
He headed up the volcano ; about 500 feet he turned around and waved : Click
Just then a thunderous eruption of molten hot lava, cascading down the mountain
Bernie turned and started running, the lava in hot pursuit touched his boots : in flames
He screams in pain, I’m snapping pictures as he tried to swim through scalding magma
As his legs disintegrate, I zoom in on his ashen white face, as the flames engulf his arms
For a man who wanted to die, the horrific fear on his face, the terrifying look in his eyes
A puff of smoke and Bernard James was gone. I could feel the heat of the lava descending
I run to the truck and drive as fast as I can back to Lima. In a darkroom, pictures develop
Deviously, I make a life size collage of Bernard David James ; starting at the feet---
I set the collage on fire: staring at a face afraid to die, I see the atrocity of Suicide.
Inspired and Dedicated to Colleen Bono This is my part of the Challenge I hope it meets
with YOUR approval…HG
An ancient mariner I’ve a secret,
I made me a boat hidden and unseen.
I glide on the cascading mountain stream
that carries its past in needles of verdant fir,
alongside me they float, nobody has ever seen.
The wind on my raised sail tells me
how the sailor crossed the storm surge,
whispers the secrets of the shrouded sky,
narrates the fascinating story of the land far,
the river hasn’t seen, and it would never know.
I drift past wooden people on bank,
some singing birds I adore fly with me.
The river promises to take me to the sea
where indigo waves crown pearls on crest,
sunburst sky sprays collage of colors on beach.
The river will keep its promise I know,
I’ll sail on the rhythm of the rolling waves,
travel across sapphire stretch of seven seas,
beyond which there would be no sea to cross,
there would be no hazy contour of shore to reach.
Maybe I’ll meet someone there waiting
who would tell me why I made this journey.
Written : January 25, 2019
Contest : Strand Pick 9, Any Theme, Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Wet morning
Misty tear-jerker;
Dark skyline contours
~~~~~~~~~
Beyond this bridge
A new town;
People escalate
~~~~~~~~~
Cold and wet
Dreary morning sky;
Rain re-decorates
~~~~~~~~~
Espresso dawn
Tired eyes split open;
Caffeine surge
~~~~~~~~~
Work on words
Verbal collage;
Emergent light
~~~~~~~~~
Poise renders voice
Style happy smile;
Make moments count
~~~~~~~~~
Dreary dream drains
Play puzzle plain;
Grief gathers gain
~~~~~~~~~
Thought greets feeling:
See beyond sight;
Wise words work well
~~~~~~~~~
Feel sure miracle
Live sure purpose;
Glimpse fond sights
~~~~~~~~~
Blast of cold air
Sudden spine shivers;
Rain drenching
~~~~~~~~~
Feel stillness here:
Come to know truth;
Only love endures
~~~~~~~~~
Leon a Enriquez
24 July 2016
Singapore
there is indeed a place in my heart
cordoned off for only you
though you left me seeing black,
my love for you remained infinitely intact
as a result, there is no comprehension of a covenant
for no one comes close to the flawless fusion in which you so elegantly possess
knowing this, i intentionally retrace my steps everytime i think of you
it has overtaken every chapter of me, and i bear no regrets
i am proud to be glad that there is no bookmark mighty enough for the collage of memories and their anecdotes
i would dispose of the whole library of my life to be reborn to spend just one more moment with you
it does not even have to be a hint of a minute....just long enough to joyfully savor....
If i could illustrate my love for you...I'd envision the perfect picture.. a serene landscape
blooming with colors evoking passion..a setting sun in the distance..if I were to illustrate
our lives together.. I'd collage smiles,laughter,a family with children.. not a house,but a
home..one that together we'd live in..if I had to illustrate our love making ..I'd use colors that
spoke boldly,my portrayal would be vivid..one of pleasure, and each time brush touched
canvas ..stroke after stroke,would be just as tender..if I illustrate my life before you..you'd
see storms with a definitive gloom..an illustration with you in the picture tho..it would be
vibrant,peaceful, the best kind of illustration to wake up to..the kind of picture you keep in your
bedroom..I'm not the greatest artist..can't paint the perfect picture..but I can illustrate through
words..my hope,is that you love my vision..its title..illustrations of my spirit!..
The turning wheels of the fleeting transient time
rotate enduringly with life’s rhapsodic kaleidoscope,
creates the enchanting picturesque patterns prime,
crafted by the mélange of flashing mesmeric hope.
All the contrived chameleon colors transform
the visage of mind’s vast undulating topography
into an ashen wasteland ravaged by discord storm,
or into a tortuous glistening emerald valley.
I am flying beguiled on the butterfly wing,
flittering in the rippling air out of distress,
before it flies away beyond the spell of spring,
forms for me the tapestry of happiness.
My mind’s canvas turns into memory montage,
as the receptive consciousness free of strife,
configures bliss in the kaleidoscopic collage,
I see the reflection of joy in the mirror of life.
You came on the wings of zooming breeze,
blew a sensuous storm of fervor through me.
I held the petals of love in my heart to appease,
lest they flew away to the wilderness of obscurity.
The transitory flame of the trajectory of crave
furrowed in my mind a blazing trail of yearning.
I traced its amorous track with ardor to engrave,
even if like the flicker of your love it was fading.
Losing the longing in the darkness of desolation,
I ambled on sea-shore of sorrow, eyes full of brine,
swirled like the dislodged sands with split emotion
in the tide of remote times when you were mine.
Sleeping on the desolate edge of the lonely night,
I see you as a star in my dream sky in times tough
when it sparkles for a while to disappear out of sight,
and in despair I regret I didn’t dream of you enough.
As the winters of the old times get lost, to me it’s clear
in the life that awaits me what I could wish for as new.
I look forward to the future that’ll unfold year after year
with the changing vista of fulfillment for me and for you.
I’ll walk mesmerized in the blooming garden of glee
where I haven’t gone awhile though it’s just next door.
In the twilight gleam how the new leaves glisten, I’ll see,
observe the surreal patina of spring I haven’t seen before.
Sitting by the window open to enticing nature at sunset
I’ll see in splendorous autumn the trees gilded galore,
read the poems of love of an unknown romantic poet,
feel the passion of lingering youth I haven’t felt before.
I am sorry to disappoint you
I could be anything you expect me to be
But you have a better chance to stop the war inside you
Than to try diminish my own personality
There's a saying that say's
"Misery likes company"
I refuse to be your candidate.
Your opinions about me are based on your perspective,
Your perspective is driven by your state of mind
If your state of mind is an ill wind
Be blown away.
I am the colourful gem in Africa
The collage of my ancestors DNA
Glued together to form a rare
Epitome of beauty
I am the mother of gift
The shooting star in the world
Filled with turmoil.
I'm the flower that grows through the stones.
I am the tried and tested Baobab tree
I stand tall and been deemed the shelter.
"The beauty lies in the eyes of the admirer"
I come as the rolling waves in the ocean
Seen as a threat to those with evil will
And as a fascinating life enhancer to the waterman,
Change is constant and so is my mood because I'm alive
I am an emotional being
I'm the paragon art of the Creator
As the mist in the forest region
I am each and every droplets that lands on dry grounds
That spark's the life
Imbued with irresistible earthy smell.
I'm the Soil.
Late duskfall cracks the air tenderly,
wandering on a language of silence
as twilight caresses the breath
of fluid intuition… for when all else
is sprawled quiet, there comes this
certain ambient stream wading on
mouths of reflection, far beyond
the collage of any flushed landscape,
and watching inward becomes a vision…
that learning how to hear a pear or
pebble unravel the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
unfold its leaves beyond unknowing a
need to stay in the moment: and images
passing through calm eyes of any season
is poetry’s way of coming back to itself.
-------------------
*It is in deep silence
and mindful awareness
that the burst of imagination
flows freely.
Thomas Martin’s Ars Poetica
6/3/2015
Himalayas beckon everyone to come to its fold
In as many seasons ‘n as many times ‘n still lust for more
Music, all four seasons, they continuously orchestrate
A collage of fall colors adds beauty to its lakes, rivers and waterfalls
Legendary tales echo glories of gods in its valleys and peaks
Abode heavenly it makes away from maddening crowd, a midst the clouds
You fall in love with the simple and beautiful people of these hills that
Allow you not to miss your home sweet home while
Snow-capped peaks bring out grit ‘n courage of mountaineers
Contest: the hills are alive with poetry
Sponsor: Scott thirtyseven
Date: 20.6.2014
Form: Acrostic
Lines: 9