Long Cotton Poems
Long Cotton Poems. Below are the most popular long Cotton by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cotton poems by poem length and keyword.
Isle of Fantasy - Seashore Bliss
Rolling waves that reach the shore
with frothy crests of sparkling white,
embrace the waiting beach
to kiss and bathe its wavy frame
of glistening, light golden sand
that hugs the ocean's end
along this isle of fantasy.
The roar of waves and seagull songs-
cool sea breeze touch of misty spray;
the sky above of azure blue-
white cotton candy streaked.
The endless line, where sea meets sky,
that sets imagination's stage
to dream what lies away, beyond-
this picture-perfect fantasy.
Held spellbound by this seashore bliss
where hearts and souls feel holy, blessed,
reborn by its baptismal rite,
immersed in earthen purity;
the seashore is sweet nature's gift-
a glimpse of heaven here on earth.
along this isle of fantasy.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Island of Fantasy
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 06/12/2016
~Honorable Mention!
Contest: The Sea Shore
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 02/10/2016
Tasked to continue smooth function of cult compound
Sixteen svelte helpers of mindless vibrant physiche
Hurl their determination found in daily frequency
Milking cows, picking fruit, darning gowns
Draped swathes of cotton smother love worthy curves
Bunches clutched in fervent fists denote proactive
Chores suppress boredom, hours fast elapsing
Hushed among bustle, humbly built church
Rhythmic teat pinching hands press in prayer's commit
Wrists sturdy obedient, cream transform churning
Hundred shelled peas, obligated with urgency
Bound by scripture, called upon to submit
Duty is God's Will, blessed purpose supports hordes
Beauty unrecognised hair spun buns traditional
Released flaxen waterfall for richeous ritual
Sacramental fodder, holiest of whores
Chosen childless worship circle of dedicated wombs
Esteem rodeo results in offspring from Minister
Fallen garland bruised petalled begins her
Observance unto sermons emtombed
31st December
Cursed Yearning
He was born on a cotton plantation in Itta Bena, Mississippi.
Among rhythm and blues guitarists, he was the best there could be.
Riley B. King came into the world in 1925.
Entertaining as an R & B guitarist, his career would thrive.
While working at a radio station in Memphis, Tennessee,
he earned the nickname "Blues Boy", which was shortened to "BB".
Playing his Gibson guitar named "Lucille", he earned his reputation.
Coming his way were many an award and commendation.
Yes, he was a talented big name entertainer in his day.
Sadly, in 2015 at the age of eighty-nine, he passed away.
I thank wikipedia.org for valuable information I obtained to write this poem
TROPICAL SUMMER
Scorching Sun, Shiny Sky,
Whirling wind always dry,
Even birds dare to fly,
Here comes Tropical Summer.
Tremendous heat is trapped and caught,
Fields get cracked and yielded draught.
Burning throat and thirst fought,
Summer hits hot hammer.
Sometimes afternoon thunder storm displays,
Dense grey clouds cluster on dark veils.
Sudden shower pours large drops and hails,
soaking soil as petrichor-claimer.
Flamboyant trees glow on dazzling crimson,
Scarlet blossoms blaze on glossy silk-cotton.
Juicy fruits are summer charms to be grown,
as Noble Nature blesses farmer.
Tropical region is sunny zone.
Three months run heat-prone,
till smart Rainy Season is shown
with wet wonder of watery glamour.
07/03/16
Petrichor- weird smell of moist soil
The sky shone gaunt gold
on the lip of the storm
before the anvil shaped clouds advanced
upon the burning margins of the world
Like a dream
the thunder rolled away
leaving cotton candy swirls
before a spreading dawn
Gentle white horse clouds appeared
pulling pastel chariots
bearing angels -
rainbows, tinted on their snowy wings
Down they plunged
gilt-edged, into a pit of pure white
popcorn clouds
Feeling God-like before
the breakfast service
I watched delicate washes of pale lavender
mist into daylight.
Dedicated to Connie Marcum Wong who worked as a flight attendant for many years.
LATE JULY 2018 STANDARD,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines
Contest Judged: 7/23/2018 10:59:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
First Place
MORE THAN A SOFT TOY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raggedy Ann with her patchwork heart,
more than soft cotton, calico, embroidery, and yarn,
a doll created with Mother's love,
stitched together with gentle hands.
Her gray button eyes understood my childhood world,
her red yarn hair meticulously combed,
her smile eternally stoic,
her face bore the promise of a forever friend.
She walked with me to school,
first day of school jitters, she sat, a steadfast sentinel,
on the corner of my desk,
absorbing my fear, radiating calm.
Hospital smells, a white, sterile fear~
Raggedy's soft body, a warmth against my chest,
before the cold steel, after the raw ache,
her doe-like, button eyes, unwavering.
We shared tiny cups of cocoa ‘neath the pecan tree,
her embroidered face never betraying
the weight of my childhood dreams,
my childhood fears.
My first editor, she listened tirelessly
to the endless stories I told her~
the one’s created from my fertile imagination,
without judgment, without end.
Now, she sits in Mother’s curio cabinet,
still a steadfast, quiet comfort,
her threads and stitches connecting me
to the fertile memory-filled fields of yesterday.
Her button eyes, dark pools reflecting
sepia-toned summers,
reliving ghosts of laughter,
rides on unicorns, and make-believe.
Her worn calico dress, faded and undamaged,
is stained with childhood tears,
a fabric chronicle of scraped knees,
childhood regrets, and silent fears.
She inspires me now,
grounding me in innocence,
showing that imagination
endures into adulthood.
Raggedy Ann, more than a soft toy~
she is the echo of my Mother's love,
a tangible piece of home,
carried in my arms, worn soft with time.
sloppy fields carpeted
with golden mellowing wheats
a fevered light
with vibrant sun, trapped in pigment
bleeds across the canvas
the wheat, thousands of tiny swords
with each stalk a silent hum
caressed by a gentle breeze
ever try to reach
the impossible blue
some dark green defiant cypresses
overshadowing the surrounds
stretching towards the sky
spinning their secret story
of sublime strength and resilience
providing shade around them
stand as silent vigils
guarding intruders
a serpentine path
winds its way through the fields
leading to some houses
and beyond to a cobalt stream
the dwellings of familiar shape
not grand, not imposing
stand gazing at the sapphire sky
shrouded with some stretches
of cotton clouds
each window, a rectangle of mystery
holds surreal surprises
one can hardly guess
blooming like whispers
with the chimneys` silhouettes
a smudge of charcoal
breathing quiet sighs
into the vast, indifferent air
in the background
hills shaped in quasi-perfect triangles
reflect the azure blue sky
merging with the horizon
with a sense of infinity
it is not just a scenic scene
of undulating wheat fields
and giant cypresses
but a warmth of feeling
a serenity made tangible
a quietude, that speaks
its own language
Vincent with his passionate brush
made the scene bloom
made it blaze
a place for living in peace
a place for inhaling nature`s bliss
a piece of land fallen
from heaven to earth.
Two ripe, moisture-dappled lips
Hunger, unabated, for what lies behind
Entranced by your gaze, I dive ... down ... deep
Rings upon rings, smooth, symmetrical
Indefectible flowing furrows of faultless fluidity
Pulsating circles of rhythmic energy, ever outward
Perfect toroidal expressions of a language, liquid
Loops of sublime, running succession
Ever ordered and expanding ...
Sound? Water? Thought?
Oh, such moments for us are not now abounding
Forever, it seems, has its compass after all
Outward, the repeating circuits continue
Under a perfectly sorrowful moon, you shed a carnal tear
Red lips turn to plum, and taste as sweet as
Porcelain, your skin glows behind your herbal tresses, fallen
As silk, the strands mix with our mouths and tongues
Sweet, deep, like cotton candy, our lips melt ... one
Seductive and divine, (the first ring of our prurience)
Intertwined, another kiss - immersed, liquescent, (the next ring)
Outward they spread - kiss, touch, explore (rings) ... more ...
Now, endless ... and ever ... the ripples of our passion.
~ 7th Place ~ in the "Ripples In the Water Poetry Contest", Nayda Ivette Negron, Judge & Sponsor.
Whistles, bells, and wonderous sights,
Brilliant kaleidoscopic lights.
The pageantry always sells,
Bright Carnivals and Carousels.
Parents watch their children ride,
Reminds them of the child inside.
Round and round and round they go,
The Tilt-A-Whirl completes the show.
In a seat made just for two,
The Ferris Wheel's amazing view.
Sweethearts in a state of bliss,
Sharing a romantic kiss.
Toddlers with their legs so bandy,
Stuck on sticky cotton candy.
Funnel cakes to fill the belly,
Doughnuts stuffed with fruited jelly.
The challenge after many tries,
Perchance to win a fluffy prize.
Smiles, shouts, and all the laughter,
Crowds always get just what they're after.
As the night begins to wane,
All movement like a weathervane.
Tomorrow when the day begins,
The Carnival begins again.
I saw truant clouds wading through late evening sky.
With sunset, they got dyed in varying shades,
Forming into configurations of differing shape and size!
Giants, mountains and raw bundles of fluffy wool,
To be woven into yet a hundred patterns.
Twilight shadows slowly began to fall,
Like gauzy gossamer webs here and there
Night came stepping down from the heights.
I heard the wind singing through the leaves.
Their sweet cadence lifted my moods.
From the forest, a nightingale echoed a happy note.
Crickets in chorus chanted in sonorous tones.
As I looked on, from creamy cotton clouds,
Full moon emerged like a seductive temptress.
What a majestic sight of incomparable beauty!
Stars were seen as silver sequences stitched on,
An unfurling cerulean veil of chiffon silk.
I felt so weightless, being lifted to great heights.
As I lost myself in the irresistible charm of the night,
A thousand butterflies of joy danced within me.