Long Collages Poems
Long Collages Poems. Below are the most popular long Collages by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Collages poems by poem length and keyword.
when i was a kid , a notorious one, i used to turn the world upside down
to calm me down my mother taught me the art of poetry, though it still remains a mystery
but back then when i used to write, my one line brought a thousand smiles
started with the small and silly ones but were loved by the ones who used to listen
one of my poems still hangs on the walls beautifully framed and well maintained
those were the days when they would appreciate
now that i have grown up
my dad shouts to say, stop all this nonsense and focus on the degree
the same art then loved was now not worthy
my mother says keep poetry as a hobby and studies your priority
i did as it was said quitted poetry and became a book worm
24/7 i studied and followed the norms
days passed and the hardwork paid off
admitted in one of the finest collages ,the ones never thought of
now that i had the same life like everyone's else on this planet
the one which askes us to run 365 just like a servant,
all this led to grave disappointment
i wanted to write poems that's what i believed my life was made for
poems that people could can relate to and adore
with confidence and a lots of uncertainty i quitted my work
my parents lost hope and the society ignored
but i knew my words were my beauty
and relate to what people feel and pen them down became my duty
the first poem i wrote was called
"THE JAME'S BOND"
which described the life of a normal person ,his duty meant to perform
my words became my life and then there came the prize
let me be more precise and call it
the love of my life
met her in an auditorium ,sitting in the black velvet dress right across the podium
as my show got over she ran upto me and asked for a favor
asked me to read her poems once and later give her some assistance
but to my surprise , her poems were so deep that i fell for it and did not even realize
time , feelings and words brought our hearts close
what beautiful moments were those
soon my family accepted me when i reached the paths of glory
listen to your heart ,is the moral of the story
even though the time r hard ,do not worry
try hard till the moment , that later in life u don't fell sorry
He ignored the warning signs and moved carefully forward and backward
In the rocking chair of swept memories and went for a wild white knuckle ride
Swayed but not faltering although he swung like a junky on amphetamine pills
Soaked in recollections gathered momentum and made dents in the floor boards
He pictured himself as a young man courting his sweetheart and kissed the bride
Life had dealt him difficult cards but he had upped his game in the view of defeat
Made allowances for bad hands and survived depression divorce and uncertainty
Valued his shortcomings and turned obstacles and flaws into forces of challenge
Photographs trinkets newspaper clippings and baby shoes swished past in a flash
A rollercoaster adventure of vertigo and nausea but also of thrilling escapes
Parachuting down abysses cliff diving and bungee jumps into a red-hot volcano
Confined to a nursing home he refused to accept the dumping ground it seemed
His conscience was clear but that signalled that truths were merely impermanent
And the subconscious tends to rest below an iceberg of prominent falsifications
Like laundering imperfection with fabric softener on kind collages and tapestry
Photo-shopping was before his time but he knew to cut and paste with his mind
Racing thoughts and blustering emotions collected on the windscreen of his soul
First pay packet for an old Enfield motorcycle then traded for an Austin Minor
Redundancy after the miner’s strike and still both his children made it to College
Some say it’s been a junk yard but he fathoms recycling for future generations
26th October 2019
I still wonder the life and the meaning of it
The reason why I belong here...
The struggle, the humiliation
And the pain of smiling when tears are yet to fall.
Walking in the shadows of fear
I still wonder the life
Why little happiness is the sign of tears.
A little achievement is the struggle for pelf
And when I am done
They make me a king for a day
Yet tomorrow comes with a new challenge
And when I ask myself looking at the mirror
It has got nothing to say.
I still wonder the life and the existence of it
When they look at me with arrogance
And expectations pouring with fake complimentses
Greetings with roses turns out to be feces.
Cowering if am left with a penny today
The blood that I shed and the bruises and the scars
They see the same in me
Yet the same damn people put me down.
Running along side of self-discovery
I fear the loss of self-recovery
And when I think I can face the challenge
I look myself at the mirror with some motivation
Still it reflects me back the same collages.
I still wonder the life and the dedication towards it
For I am yet to concieve the love that it gives
And when it gave it paved me a path with hurdles
My long allegiance turned out to be a long malevolence.
Waking up to feel if I am left for today
And the morning moans with yester-days
Drowning endlessly by a single tear.
I worry not to loose my grip
And I looked myself once again at the mirror
It is not me then...
He is the person whose persuasion counts most then
Such a splendor all around me
So much to see and so much to do
For he is with me to clear up to the end
If I make the person in the mirror my friend.
Hazy pictures were displayed
Old oaken frames contained them
Hanging slight off kilter right
The walls littered like leaves in autumn lawns
Grandma keeps glimpses of every leaf pile we made
Remember that Day? Indepence Day, we think...
Smiled postures, sincere familial moment
Each recounting the tales we told most well
Classic family fables...annual oral essays
The laughs reached hysterics, when we remembered.....
These pictorial journals stand proud
Historical record of Easter egg-hunt/fist-fights
account of dogs who eat cake...sons first birthday
the dog ate the cake on his FIRST birthday?!!
Picture proved guilt for Bailey, you mutt!!
Chocalate chops-licking as if smiling for the camera
Christmas collages of gift wrapping typhoons
Swirling in heaps covering everything
Your eyes were half shut holding
holding an Alf doll...old school dated stuff
Fashion victim flashbacks...man, you had a perm?!
relishing rubicks cubes , mysterious artifact
I could never have vengeful laughing
without this"Wham" haircut snapshot
Grandma likes the silly one we took
eyes crossed, fish lipped child faces
chubby wind burned cheeks, pushed through snowsuit hoods
Snowman center stage in a motley group pose
bordered either side, white barred polaroid
taped, crudley cropped, in center of this frame
Each still reinactment is a Joyful look beyond
Life had painted beautiful moments,
and we were there to catch it....
Pull out the easel
set the canvas
positioned long and slender clean slate.
Sketch the figures huddled and dark-bound hostage
to charcoal-cooled coals
etching in shadow images;
Faceless entities
slipping in and out the background
earth-toned sojourners accepting, alone, quiet, dying;
Still the images in silence
hard and disfigured
grotesque horrors in place;
Somber soul-drained eyes
skeletal socket holes
buried in the heart and mind;
Let tears fall down their cheeks
in wonder, awe, and
fear of what happens next.
Acrylic primers dilute the wash in the storyline
flaking and cracking
tearing each soul and truth away;
Polyptych blended burnish bleeds
quiet, soft exuding
whimpered cries, asking why;
Chiaroscuro collages of death from life
fading to diluent breaths
the heartbeat of an unholy silence;
Graded gouache monochrome scraper boards
releasing sfumatos of singularities
communal lives sacrificed
Varnish the final rendition
camouflage the realities,
the actuality of what it represents,
Time immemorial in genocidal atrocities
of Native Americans, Cambodians, Hawaiians,
Jews, Rwandans, Bosnia, Darfur,.
When does it stop?
The never-ending list
life is more precious than this
until change comes
Paint the Picture Black and Gray
pray
then act.
Never a crescent but opalescent
This globe, suspended and always present
And the Wolf cannot be flesh or bone
In this void in time's dim desert zone
The Wolf drinks water by frozen moonlight
Tween slurps She's panting with all of her might
Behind Her is cool, clear space, not a sound
Only the dream, the moon, the pond, the ground
Before Her, Her own urge to lap abounds
Wet shadow animates Her slurping sounds
As She's prowling, the dreams of human minds
Resume here, and secret voices She finds
While the Wolf lingers in psychic powers
None shall wake, but quake, for several hours
Their minds in this clearing, none can hide
Into this stretch they've strayed, some petrified
Sleeping souls, unseen, drift round Her shadow
Longing to escape to some green meadow
Gathered souls meld with Her strange oasis
Their liquid ripples squirm like their faces
In each warm, active mind synapses spark
Captives perceive images as they arc
Meanwhile, the Wolf; in spirit world She drinks
A united sea; thoughts each dreamer thinks
Her lips draw in the collective spirit
Of their curious nature; they fear it
In Her belly flows their merged collages;
Impressions of their entwined barrages
The Wolf's clear as glass, exposing patterns
In colors blazed like Neptune's, like Saturn's
From Her drinking head down to Her wagging tail
She's made of dreamers captured by sleep's spell
Old magazines, pictures that pose;
Junk cluttering, ready-to-throw;
Stray offerings for scrapbook close;
I'm selecting new collage flow.
Flip each page here, tear picture pacts;
A nice neat stack, stray page with poise;
Beauty that steers, pieces of tact;
Sift pile and slack, find image choice.
With easy pace, seek treasures lost;
Start to address new storyboard;
Assign new space, at zero cost;
Begin to press, cut-and-paste hoard.
Cut, trim and gum, pieces of art;
Ideas run wild in collage grain;
Here and there lump, unusual parts;
Just like a child: magic laid plain!
And pictures grow, images lift;
Collage art sings new melodies;
New chance to glow, warm purpose sifts;
Junk page now spring, clear textures see.
Thus one by one, I shape new stuff;
Discarded print, pictures galore;
Artwork frees fun, prime zest enough;
Colours and tints, avant garde core.
I feel my soul, at ease with this;
Paper cuttings, sharp cutter blade;
Trim to make whole, relax with gist;
Patchwork trimmings, pictures re-made!
This strange crusade to re-use print;
I come to know heals more and more;
Art left unsaid, re-lives new mint;
Collage that shows new life galore!
Art goes to show that discards can
Be of good use if I can see
A brand new flow in whimsy's plan:
Heart sparks a fuse to free beauty.
Leon Enriquez
24 February 2014
Singapore
Obdurate goat tangles rough knotted rope
Stuck beside shadowy friend, Silky Oak
Hedonistic prisoner capricorn, cheap trope
Ethics remain riddle, morals mere joke
Towered timber utters truth in its creak
Canopy clapping hands crush recollection
Billion fingered Silky Oak, silver limbs oblique
Obscure overlooked sins, a whispered detection
Keeps capricorn unkempt, tethered to trunk
Smooth curled horns apply keratin to bark
Scaffold of decency rubbed back, defunct
Gloss of molestation, shamed oblivion hark
Hefty hormonal avenger of societial conform
Ediface eroded by wiles of willful exhibition
Tortoiseshell taupe noxious horned capricorn
Weapon wield deposit encircles oak, dark depiction
Mirror denies texture, mirthful obstreperous ignores
Shine diminishes structure, erect neck narrow
Malnourished foliage, goat's gritty diet implore
Capricorn's carnal gyrations abate, restore marrow
Fractured cracked tenacity, tree's foreboding scream
Matchstick snap collages goatman gonzo in debris
Collapsed capricorn of devilish demeanour obscene
Scruple niggard gruesome morbid marauder buried
22nd August 2021
Written for Contest : This Or That Volume 6.
Tethered To A Moment
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh
Oh, What Is Life?
(Written for Kay Collier McLaughlin-With gratitude to Thomas Merton)———
What? What is life?
No concise, assuaging answer comes.
For there are no stepping stones outside
For a clear, examining view...
Except, perhaps, to wander through
Our fertile imaginings, where
Collages may be so composed
By one’s and two’s to fit
Some consequential assorting
Of our senses for a sight of our hearts’
Music; of desired peaceful, tailored reason
And freedom!
Suited to a sigh, softly then...for
.The view may even cause tears to flow.
Dab them then. Dab away. As the collage
Is due for a re-fitting, an alteration of pieces
Day by day. Take strength. We are so blessed.
Our touches, our skills are needed for
One and all altogether as we were blended
In Creation, as our moon walkers saw...Here!
Life is yet the search for truth;
Life is a joining of hopes;
A keeping of nature’s landscapes;
A piecing together of chards;
A mending of the displaced;
A continuous editing of our prayers;
A rejoicing of our souls when we love.
This is a layered collage: in history, in myth,
And space, and time...
An exploring of our souls.
********. *********. *********
(C)sally Young eslinger 12/21/2020
Thanks be to God evermore
How cutely and compactly you fasten,
My shirt and coat and make me smart looking;
Could I fancy my woolen coat open,
For a chilly cold wave to break us through?
How a bit decoration on you change,
Shirt or skirt or blouse or frock or jacket!
Wallets, purses, and bags wear you proudly,
Your ornamental face shining on them;
Our children play 'Messy Tray' and 'Name Plate',
They match you, sort you, arrange ardently;
Make necklaces, collages, and countless patterns,
Fun and frolic surround their play groups;
Sand play; dress up play; play dough; ode one out,
Of you we make puppets and play bingo;
Do our nursery mathematics end,
Unless we learn counting, first, with buttons?
Don't buttons teach lessons on 'life balance'?
Don't they teach us core ethical values?
Isn't button a nod of connection,
Betwixt brain behaviors in psychic molds?
Truth, respect, procession, and progression,
Crush and quash disrespect, insults, and lies?
Symbolizing control, calm, and courage,
You end depression and low self esteem;
O button, just like doors safeguard my house,
You save my physique from perilous risks...!!!
16 March 2023