Long Collaged Poems
Long Collaged Poems. Below are the most popular long Collaged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Collaged poems by poem length and keyword.
Down a runway skybound
to cross a continent,
see from a window
a city fall away
with bright beads
strung along a coast,
then turning inland,
clumped townships
shrinking to solitary lights
sunk far apart
into hours
of featureless dark.
Disconnected
from the earth,
let the mind paint
the blank distances
and wander landscapes
of Namatjira's hills
and ghost gums
and photographic stills
of outback towns
and along railway lines
spearing the horizon
where a big sun
hemorrhages
into an evening sky.
Then settle back
and allow a familiar picture
to arise from behind closed eyes
of light patched office towers
and stacked apartments
with tall derricks
puncturing the night
as it slides by
in soundless haste.
And way below,
playing out on some
inner screen, follow
stuttering road signs
and arteries of red tail lights
leading to narrow alleys where,
as if funneled into an ear,
you hear the sound of sirens
being dragged
along hot, crowded streets.
In time, let the noise abate
until faces dissolve and life
slurries back into a thick
air conditioned hum.
Doze a little
then try to unpack
the images collaged
across the hours.
Nothing adheres.
What had once
held together seems
to fray and fall apart.
Feel a slight unease
as the engines begin
to throttle back and comence
the slow descent. There,
bubbled on the horizon,
see the glow of city lights
drawing in a converging arc
of flights like moths.
Notes.
Namatjira refers to great Australian and First Nation painter,
Albert Namatjira (1902 - 1959) famous for capturing central Australian landscape including the iconic Ghost Gum, a species of Eucalyptus tree. His work speaks to a deep spiritual connection to the land, something held by his people for well over 40,000 years.
Poem refers to flight across the continent of Australia, East to West, approx. distance 4000 km.
He sang sweet songs, sweet needle point lullabies
His eyes were crystalized, their awestruck blackness ate me whole
I stayed mesmerized by his carelessness and smooth complexion
He spit ease and promised comfort
His perversions helped to define me
He fed off the helpless story my eyes told
Like a rat chewing holes in already worn socks
The deeper the needle dug, the closer we became
2 more strangers brought together by a spoonful of pretty crystal flakes,
Praying for something better
The dope trampled through our veins, fusing us together
I take the shot and let it break me to pieces
I become fragments, collaged together to make one unnecessary disaster
I am legs. I am eyes. I am lips. I am warmth. I am sultry. I am body language.
I am delirium. I am carelessness.
I am 37 flavors of wreckage
I am the thrust in his hips and the look in his eyes. I am property.
I am the dope sack and the remains left behind
I am just weight on the mattress
I am another girl on another motel bathroom floor
I am the holes in my arms
I am confined, super glued to a picture of a drug addicted whore
Yet, I still believe I am endless
I stay paralyzed in this moment, in my fear of a better way
In this ecstasy
I stay paralyzed in my regrets, in my remembrance of all things lost
In all the moments I lost my control in an empty dope bag
It wraps around me like lights on Christmas tree
My bad decisions and remorse surround me
In a cheap motel room with broken windows and a broken tv
It breathes in my heartbreak and exhales my defeat
I am alone but my broken parts fit right in
The sticky windows separate us from daily life
This is a place of isolation, not escape
The morning sun doesn’t shine on us
We’re just chasing after freedom in the wrong place,
Singing our needle point lullaby.
Form:
WHITE SHADOW
-------------------
Cornered in opalescence
No walls to be found
The abyss its residence
The address unknown
Its countenance clear
As frozen solid stone
Collaged in aqueous blue
Painted misty gray
Its irridescence seen
But presence unseen
Epitomizes the trace
Of a fallible illusion
Portray as fumes of
Charcoal colored flames
Steams of vaporous smoke
Swim the swarms of air
Bounding deep its breaths
Breaded by the blare
Of pugnacious myriads of pawns
Barricading the breeze
As brooms' brushes to dust
Swept in swift and soft
Reversal rhythmic rush
Pieces' plethoras ensnared
By touching tips of the hay
Collected quick, no care
Absent a tic's delay
A patent feather has found
Its primmest of places
As paupers planted in pits
In primes of penurious spaces
This putrid particle puffs
Within subsisting liquid
As pints of pluvial drops
Descend devoid of sound
Upon the grazes of glitch
Within the greenest of grasses
A flood of footsteps fringe
Upon the ears of deafened ground
Each heels howls its horns
But gravel hears no sound
Ignites the morning spark
As gently candle lit flames
A sightless, sceneless spurt
Illumined just the same
~Poetra Jah~
TEMPTATION'S TOUCH
-----------------------------
His palm soothes the ridges
Furrowed in her starlight skin
Her masseur, he replenishes
Each and every aching extremity
The chiming bells of his strokes
Ring again and again
Summoning her to his lair
Collaged in deep affinity
Her rock solid attraction
Draws her savory soul
Into a lustrous world
She's never seen nor known
A vibrant virgin caressed
Then clasped by her first
Drowns her soul in his lake
To diffuse her thirst
Heaven's hallowed sheet
At last drops her drapes
Unveiling her cast concealed
Behind the stage
Lines from her script
Long lavished in capes
Sifts and locks his eyes
Embellished by each page
Chastity's cloud exiles
Then expurgates her existence
Extracted by he who
Extricated her innocence
Alive and awake, she shows
Herself just the same
Fluorescent radiant flower
Who bears a different name
Restlessly she reclines
Atop her apple green ground
While her heart percussions
Her wedded lover's sound
Each tantalizing twine
Designs his touch so sweet
Tightly tying the tongue
Of the tasting rose
Flooded in fervent favor
From Gehenna's heat
Deteriorating the stem
Decimating her pose
(See the text embedded in the image above. For a high-resolution version of this image, go to cinemaspirit.info/trinity.)*
Trinity Dance (a Visual Poem)
By Mark D. Stucky
Father - Parent - Creator - Rock - Lover - Justice
Son - Child - Savior - Redeemer - Loved - Peace
Spirit - Womb - Sanctifier - Friend - Love - Wisdom
*(About this work: See the image above! The collaged image in this visual poem has three groups of words describing persons of the Trinity in a three-in-one spiraling dance with a Hubble photo of spiral galaxy NGC 4639 in the background. It was inspired by a question in my church, if the three persons of the Trinity danced together, what would that have looked like? This work was first published as "Trinity Dance" in Spirit Fire Review, 21 March 2023. See also my "Trinity" poems "Trinitarian Equations" and "The Invention of Love" and my visual poem “Haiga for the Heavenbound.”)
("The Mothership", 2024, original encaustics digitally collaged by Stephen Langer)
What Will You Do
When the aliens come
What will you do?
Will you go dragged kicking and screaming
Only to remember nothing,
Or will you go willingly
With the curiosity of a child?
What’s there after all
In the Great Mother ship,
A portal, a station, theatre of the mind
In multidimensional surround sound
Revealing a multiverse of limitless potential
Or a black hole of limited impossibility?
I don’t know, but it bears considering.
In my experience such things happen without choice,
Like a moth to a flame
Or sonambulator in the dark,
But why not be prepared
With your choice already made?
“Beam me up Scotty”
It’s gotten too crazy down here,
And what I took for an intelligent lifeform
Has turned out to be a mirage.
Ah, much better in multidimensional surround,
Thanks Ma.
(7/9/24)
Lives of residents collaged
as their portraits hang
from a gallery’s ceiling
and spotlight shine
upon their faces.
They are old
they are young
they are boys and men
they are girls and women
these people who have called
a small Iowa town
their own.
Some have posed
in fields
some by their houses
and they frown or smile
their faces offering reflections
of the lives they’ve known
but in their eyes, I see
reflections of the many lives
I’ve lived as I stroll
through the gallery.
My memories stir inside
a deep affection of quiet drives
through the countryside
and past this quiet town.
Once when I stopped
for a pizza
a light shown upon
the face of a girl at the counter.
lights shine like stars
on small town people
living ordinary lives
More precious than gold
Such beauty and grace
My sweet Desi Lou
I shall forever embrace
Her beautiful smile
Her charisma and wit
When collaged all together
Will send your heart a miss
Full of such Great Spirit and a love for life
Throughout all of her adolescent years
My Sweet Desi Lou is growing faster
Faster than I can wipe away her tears
The tears are almost obsolete now
Replaced with smiles, laughter and quips
My daughter you’re nearly a woman
Yet I still yearn for that motherly grip
As the time grows nearer and the signs are sure
My promise to you is this;
To allow you to flourish as a beautiful woman
And to always surround you with a special kiss
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
Form:
Slide, barrel, firing
My life expiring
Carve peace into a bullet so its the last thing on my mind
'Cause what remains in the sky is our stars misaligned
The shrapnel from the meplat dissects my insides
My emotional integrity, treat like it was Alcides
I submit to you my mag of hatred
You load your gun and leave me berated
The echoes of metallic disparage on the concrete
Discard the magazine, rest it on my grave and replete
Disengage the safety, make your grip pirouette
In my mind you're already dead, your ballade des
Your body slumps, no longer recepts, self-sabotaged
The thoughts of us never escaped your mind, constantly collaged
FLYING THE KITE
On the sunny days of the chilly winter
Within me the child I left long ago enters
I go out under the blue sky shining bright
Fly in the northern wind my colored kite.
The collaged kite soars slowly high
Flies with the flock of birds in the sky
When it cuts the thread of another kite
Arms thrown high, I jump in delight.
The kite nosedives to touch the horizon far
I take it high up again with a spin in the air
I marvel at my residual kite flying skill
The child in me, I know, is there still.
If I can fly my life like a kite in the sun
The child will never leave me, I’ll have fun.
June 23, 2018.