Long Conjures Poems
Long Conjures Poems. Below are the most popular long Conjures by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conjures poems by poem length and keyword.
the image displayed through the liquid reflection
conveys the thoughts and memories of life's imperfections
the mirror reveals the opposite of a being
but it can also conceal the things you are seeing
like a magician your eyes are shrouded by deception
from the mind to your eyes coerced through inception
the holistic visuals portrayed in each mirror
becomes the optical focus as the mind becomes clearer
though the eyes maybe the windows to the soul
the mirror can only reflect what the eyes behold
as the oceans reflects the heavens above
our actions reflect a heart filled with love
the world is a mirror reflecting our past
but shrouded in mystery shattered like glass
the quest for an image conjures the truth
but the relics of knowledge do not circumvent proof
but to view the ultimate image that one must bestow
one must see past the reflection that the mirror does show
Shut your eyes and imagine.
Your eyelids the movie screens at a
drive-in.
Instantly your mind becomes the film reel .
Your soul's desires, the mind conjures up to feel.
Maybe your 6th sense?
Dream of hope and happiness.
A better life.
A new way.
Shut your eyes and imagine.
Let your mind soar to new frontiers and possibilities for a taste of what could be.
Open your eyes.
Get to work.
Build the bridge from your inner to outer dreams.
Make a connection. However small.
Then do it again. However small.
Take the chance. Make an effort.
A step at a time. Easy does it.
Look back.
I've already walked that much?
Surprises may arise and inspire you.
Imagine.
What’s left of Octavia glides down the hall
Past the portraits she painted in life,
Now framed in mahogany, rosewood, and oak,
And they’re hers for the haunting tonight.
She looks for the canvas she started the day
Her desire became indiscrete;
A nude on a balcony under the moon.
It was one she would never complete.
What’s left of Octavia passes the wall
Where her art is the featured display,
Recalling advances she made in the past
That went far beyond being risqué.
She goes to the window and conjures the scene
As it happened those long years before,
And thinks of the model who posed for her then;
A temptation too ripe to ignore.
What’s left of Octavia mourns what she’s lost
Like a dreamer deprived of her dream.
Her husband threw open the studio door
To discover her subject and theme.
He looked at the model, he looked at his wife,
And he saw what a fool he had been
To blindly indulge her artistic pursuits,
Which she took as occasion to sin.
A new moon at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
And she’s out on a haunting tonight.
What’s left of Octavia longs for the time
She felt anything other than numb.
The smell of the paint and the feel of the brush
Being foreign to what she’s become.
A specter deprived of the flavor of life.
An obsession that won’t fade away.
A monochrome canvas, a faintly drawn sketch
From a palette with ten shades of gray.
What’s left of Octavia stands on the ledge,
And considers the landscape below.
The moment of impact still fresh in her mind,
Because time has not softened the blow.
Her family gathered to lay her to rest,
And the ring was removed from her hand.
Though people would gossip, and ponder her fate,
There are none who in truth understand.
What’s left of Octavia comes to him now,
Late at night when he puts on her ring.
A family heirloom entrusted to him
When he married his lover last spring.
He stands in the dark as she enters the room,
And the séance is set to begin.
She watches him pose, while he takes off his clothes,
With her brushstrokes caressing his skin.
Confessions at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
But he's hers for the haunting tonight.
When imbalance of life churns hapless poignancy
And the zephyr of inequities breezes melancholy
Dissonance reverberates echoing pathos of grief
Seeking exaltation within metaphysical profundity
As hushed posture conjures up humbling catharsis,
Leaning in quietude, questing paranormal vitality,
Liberating from bounds of mundane, the ordinary,
Energizing calming bliss of unfamiliar, extrasensory.
Mortal soul steadily crosses limits of understanding
Reaching deep into unknown, unexplored territory,
Daring to search for knowledge in mystical obscurity
Pursuing enlightenment from supernatural intrigue,
Discovering newfound acuity blossoming internally
Adulating freedom of shedding narrow boundaries
Gaining divine wisdom, postulating own doctrines,
Comprehending missives in blissfulness of sagacity.
As laments mellow in teachings of superior intellect
And bawl of distraught soothes in heavenly solace
Finding ambrosial tranquility in endearing calmness,
Physiological longings amiably, peacefully dissipate
And gradually soul enlightens, unafraid of mortality,
Yearning for permanence of purposeful inviolability,
Meaningful beyond self, detaching from materiality,
Synchronizing harmoniously in idyllic, placid sanctity.
January 21, 2022
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Transcendence
On His Final Journey
Drifting ruminations freely wander
amid vanishing rays of Sun Ra
Thrusted beyond constraining clouds
probing the enigmatic moon
Hoping like incessantly undulating liquid
from a surging waterfall
Inner eye unveils the essence of a man
who for eons remained silent
Resembling his distinct familiar face
from a distance stood her true love
Parting muted lips a smile illuminates
the darkest stars in heaven
Arms outstretched as his tears well
eager to amend a fractured heart
Conceding defeat to forsaken wishes
he ascended beyond a cloud
A woman impassioned craves
the homecoming of this precious entity
She must repudiate wretched emotions
he has embarked on his Final Journey
Heralded by a harbinger of doom
destiny upholds this disheartening truth
Expectation conjures delusion
deceiving her vision invoking salvation
11/22/2017
11:32 p.m.
West Palm Beach
Florida USA
The Long Night
A long night
The full moon hangs above
Its light is a lifeless gray
The birds don't sing
The animals hide within their thicket
The bathroom sink has a constant drip
Winds whisper through dying trees
It is such a lonely place
No life or love to be found
Why does it draw me so?
It conjures nightmares and dreams
Angels and demons to circle my bed
It stifles hopes and wishes
There is nothing left in the middle of the night
Nothing except an imagination
An imagination that creates an alternate life
A life on one of the stars hiding behind the moon
In this life though in the gray light there is peace
There is sleep
Woolgathering
In the last hour of morning;
Far removed
From all the maddening hustle
And bustle of the day.
He's in a quiet place
Traveling
On his mind's time machine.
In comfortable supine repose
Gazing
At the roof of the sky.
A torrent of thoughts
Glide in his mind
Like swans on a placid stream.
A tranquillity unperturbed.
His sun-kissed smile curls
Into a crescent moon
As he conjures up
A litany of pleasant memories:
Falling in love for the first time
With his star-crossed lover,
A bouquet of forget-me-nots
He gave her in surprise
To make her soul fly.
The soft kiss from her
That aligned all the stars
In his night sky.
He's at home
In his quiet place where
His storied romance started.
Gurgling stream invisible,
drawn to its blithe bosom,
by edge of dawn kismet,
whose loiter and lurk in,
my peep of day ear satin,
taunts drowsy pallette vein,
with velvet sonic swerves,
unique, unseen, unfolding,
conjures a deep sensory,
whiff of innuendo imaged,
blurred eye phase paused,
red sun sears sleep crust,
salt gust imp tickles twitchy,
nose, my loyal guide dog,
whilst morning slumber,
thaws in trancelike mien,
to shed blind spot tramp,
a faint backwash swoosh,
now flags receding eddy,
near rapids hazy vision,
one can intuit in a blink,
but not quite glimpse!
I call you ekwensu
Because you are the witch doctor
Who conjures with paper and pen the oracles of the muse.
You are the pharmacist
Who knows best the treatment of heart ailments
And prescribes drugs for catharsis
In your many captivating stories.
O great orator
Today I still sit in dust and ashes
Draped by the night of your death.
The compound walls
Where we gather to hear your tales have fallen,
Termites occupy the house
And vultures hover at the top.
But no,
I shall not grieve forever
I have built a monument of you in my heart
And in every home, school, and office
The wreath of your books, the tombstone of your life
We shall preserve and imitate
To purge the sadness of our hearts.
My darling
Time is no longer on our side
Since your car crash we have no money
For you are no longer able to work
If I can’t find a job I may have to go on the run
The debts are piling up so high they almost reach the sky
Brain damage has taken its toll on you
I wish you were able to speak to me
But all as long as you can still breathe …
That is the most important thing
I still visit you every day
Talking to you about our once happy life
Trying to jog your memory
Do you remember the time we saw the total eclipse
Together we saw the dark side of the moon
Oh what memories it conjures up
Don’t give up the fight
It’s not your time to go to the great gig in the sky
Babe, its you and me not us and them
If you should leave me my darling
I will remember your request …
No black at your funeral
You said wear any colour you like
No matter what happens I will love your forever
Contest:- Album Tracks Tell Stories
Sponsor:- James Fraser
18th August 2015
Album 1 chosen ~ Dark Side of the Moon – Pink Floyd
TRACKS used: Speak to Me/ Breathe, On the Run, Time, The Great Gig in the Sky, Money, Us and Them, Any Color You Like, Brain Damage, Eclipse