Long Coronet Poems
Long Coronet Poems. Below are the most popular long Coronet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coronet poems by poem length and keyword.
It was time for day to bid adieu to the setting sun,
when tangerine hues blend with those of pale pink.
Not to miss the titian glow, I was afraid to blink,
now that the ebbing of twilight had finally begun.
Slowly, it descended below the horizon's edge,
a sanguine orb drowning in a cobalt blue sea.
Sunset is such an enchanting pleasure for me,
as sunlight disappears behind the cliff's ledge.
During the begetting of night, my mind was at play
with thoughts of writing of a moment I won’t forget
and of the crowning halo of light of the sun's coronet.
The one it offers to the moon at the end of each day.
Cascades of pastel colors stretched across the skies.
My shadow grew longer as the sun bid me 'farewell.'
I watched a last flicker of light dip in an ocean swell.
A radiant canvas loomed before my awestruck eyes.
The grand finale' of this prismatic pageantry, I lauded,
as this lustrous sunset slowly slipped away from me,
waved goodbye and sank into the depths of the sea.
Another sunset made its exit. I stood and applauded.
The pool unfolds like a satin strip,
a tapestry of turquoise stillness.
Sunlight stuck on its facade,
a glass sheet spread to shatter.
A maroon reflective house
shadowed by two leaning palms,
their hushed fronds, the indolent onlookers,
impersonate the silent sky.
A violent bloom of serrated purity
in the stretch of sapphire serenity,
stillness splintered by the frenetic spout.
The splash, the chaotic vista,
a coronet of fluid wonder,
epitomizes the geometry of fading disarray,
interlacing the memories of elation,
rolling over the painted silence.
Inspired by A Bigger Splash by David Hockney (1967)
Written as a tribute to the departed painter.
Ooh...this... just an amazing grace note
recalling how I felt like an ass
and wanna toot 'bout me getting steered
(as a heavy metal kid Rocker)
toward befriending a brass
see gutsy, horny,
and MainLine snooty upper class
action button down
(grace fully slick as vaseline), airily glinting
forcibly hawked, laundered, and pawned
by the instrumental
Mister Deangelo O'Donnell, High School
(mud flapping, ornery hearing,
and quid juicing Ska Welch ching)
music teacher oompah crass
tone deaf when aye trumpeted desire
to master the Coronet
analogous to pursing lips
blowing tightly held grass
blade between two abetted,
cinched fastened opposable thumbs,
which tooting a supposed aural aphrodisiac
to attract a zaftig well proportioned lass
(ideally shaped like a miniature Tuba)
with one steel funnel like mouthy mass
that probably explains, how such a gal
could easily emulate
facial pucker earning pass
to illustrious honorable first chair
and blasts gratitude akin
as Gabriel would declare
heavenly expressions conducting
angels thru atmospheric ether
alighting on mortal ushering melody
with rites of harkening
springtime Renaissance Faire
solar rays golden raiment
splays rainbow fragments off
beveled, bellowed, and
bedecked polished flare
audiological sound waves trick
saw toothed reflected
silhouetted orchestral shadows
to dance as conductor's baton gear
musicians horns ensemble
epochal feast to hear.
The Anatomy of a Horse (written for children)
Horse's feet have a hoof, the hard part which he can pound,
back of this is his frog, bottom part that stays off the ground.
Between his hoof and his leg is a coronet, not like a crown
it blends into the pastern the start of his leg, now don’t frown.
Next is his fetlock, sort of an ankle, not a real lock.
Horse's rear ankle turns backwards and that it is called his hock.
His fetlock has a callous called an ergot, can you see?
Then comes his harmless cannon, just below his hock or knee.
On the front leg, it's a knee between forearm and cannon
His hind leg has a hock which joins gaskin to his cannon.
His elbow in the front and his stifle in the back, no fibs,
connect his upper legs to his barrel which is our horse's ribs.
Topside of the barrel, where a rider sits, twixt tail and head,
highest part of horse's rump is called a croup instead.
The dock is the soft part from which grows his tail, what the heck;
above his high shoulders are withers, right beneath his neck.
Behind his ears is a part called his poll, close to his brain?
From his poll, hair makes a forelock, back down his neck, a mane.
We’ve finally reached his head and the last part, called his muzzle,
his jaw, his nose and mouth. A horse can be quite a puzzle.
written October 28, 2016 for Shadow's contest, Horses
My name is Don Quixote Del La Mancha.
I am a knight in the coat of arms
Give me a lance, give me a sword, and give me a steed
Where is the king in all of this?
I wear the Royal Spanish Crown and Gold Seal of San Fernando Levante
I solemnly swear that booty and bounty shall rest with the king
Even the Catholic Church Christen me for a swift victory
I have signed and sealed orders to save the Princess Donesia Del Debosa
Then, I shall rescue her from the evil clutches of the windmill dragon
My chief architect, Poncho Sanchez is my right arm and canteen
He is responsible for fresh food rations, cold drinks, and other supplies
providing sustenance to our great adventure through the enchanted land of Spain. Even the sky clouds are shaped like windmills and blue dragons. Just pause for a moment and you can hear the sweet coronet horns played by the Spanish Royal Guards, along the way.
A gallant foot soldier is he, thus Poncho trails me like a Swiss Guard,
With his burro donkey friend, named El Donkey Camino Blanco
As we approach the last horizon of the day, the code of chivalry shall not die
While doing some exploring I found in a cave a
Magic carpet.
He only gets to fly through the sky
After sunset
That way no one will see his silhouette.
He glides through the rain to clean and beautify.
While doing some exploring I found in a cave a
Magic carpet.
Please, I need your help to deliver this magic
Amulet
To a princess who lives on a mountain where
The clouds circle It's that high.
We'll leave after sunset.
The princess has to have this before she can
Get her coronet.
It's a long story so I'll tell you as we fly.
While doing some exploring I found in a cave a
Magic carpet
Don't fret.
What could go awry?
We left after sunset.
Now we get
To have revenge on this really bad wizard guy.
While doing some exploring I found in a cave a
Magic carpet
Who couldn't go out except after sunset.
At the foot of the mountain lies a wide verdant plain
With rich flowing breasts tend its enchanting brethren
A cuddly care that nature does, in collaboration with men
Catered to those gallant souls, nurturing the best it can
Every morning, when sunshine unfolds its resounding grace
Charming horses in auspicious race, dock their tails, all in graze
Glorious creatures they are when viewed near and afar
Precious stone-like muzzles adorned, each shines like ritzy car
Glossy fur is prominent, from withers, poll to forelock crane
The sophisticated look they have while galloping in any range
When the sun grows brighter in the middle of the day
Cowboys with their hats and chaps shout, hurray!
They run to check their rides before they saddle with glee
Patting stifle, gaskin, hock down to fetlock ‘though they’re jerky
Thorough inspection of hoof, coronet and frog they do and peek
And see if shoes are fixed, they’re good luck charms, shown in kicks
Stallions or mares, palomino, topaz… horses in any color and kind
Riding like a roller-coaster on their withers to their croup is so fine!
How I wish I can go with those cowboys in their pony-trekking
I want to be their horsewoman as they’ll be all my prince charming.
Oct. 17, 2016 1.40pm
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Ninth Place
Contest: Horses
Judged: 10/30/2016
Sponsor: Poet Shadow Hamilton
A horse that runs wild and free
Enjoys freedom with each stride
No saddle on his withers be
No grazing muzzle as a guide
No headpiece on his poll abides
His fetlock and his coronet feel the tickle of the grass
As his forelock ruffles in the breeze
No horseshoe on his hoof amass
With the wind he trots with ease
His gaskin flexes to run at his decree
His frog feels the soft earth as he stands
his coat feels the soothing rain
Unbridled by the bit's demand
His neighs echo through the plains
Upon these green fields, he reigns
His stifle and his hock aches once in awhile
But a good gallop 'neath the dome
of sky, brings him back in form and style
No crupper on his croup as he roams
For this horse calls freedom home.
~~~
10/4/16
*The crupper is the strap that runs from the horse's dock, over the croup, to the saddle.
Abreast in tank top
Seeds deflower battle myths
Red lace lingerie
Under shadow of turret
Flowing combat above doubt
Garland of poppies
Sword unsheathed for wild conquest
Guns orange roses
Heavy metal for comfort
White flag intimate cover
Make love and not war
Coronet for a bouquet
Tiara of peace
Sweet surrender in motion
Wreaths for a renegade cause
18th February 2020
Contest Let the Pens Flow Tanka Poetry
Sponsored by Jenish Somadas
Syllables checked howmanysyllable.com
Traditionally a tanka does not have a title, but I have to give one to submit the
poem. I hope that Exposure enhances more than it may distract.
HORSES
Knight of a famous land wanted a best horse for warfare
To buy, along with loyal consul, he landed in horse-fair
Many were on display, but one superior struck his sight
Bay coat, brown muzzle, coronet, fetlock in legs white
Measured from the withers , stood robust long and wide
Gaskin, Stifle, hock in hind legs strong for an enduring ride
Masculine back and powerhouse profound in the croup
This equine for sure would stand elegant in the troop
Perfect shock absorbing frog placed beneath the hoof
Poll on head positioned right to flex the bit sans any goof
Bouncy forelock ,mane and tail swayed with its gallop and gait
Finding place in Knight’s finest stable, its prestige did elevate
Love was in the air when its eyes located a lovely white mare
Mare was quick to catch the love cues from this special horse there!!
20th October 2016
For contest-Horses by Shadow Hamilton