Long Coverlets Poems
Long Coverlets Poems. Below are the most popular long Coverlets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coverlets poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear dada
add an “ist”
to it all
I reject
in the face
of it all
Aestheticism
true beauty
is found in the
ugliness of it all
peaking out
under coverlets
of mud
throwing
spit balls
of pulchitrude
wrapped up
time bombs
that stick
to the banal
unexpected beauty …
of it all,
ambitious
edges and curves
open and inviting
accompanied by caveats
there will be
splendid over-ripe
gardens of Eden
followed teasingly
in close pursuit, by the
madhatters’ tea parties
and Hugos' balls
rooms too large,
and rooms too small
it’s all
rather
simple
underneath
the dirt
of it all
precious
and most expensive
jewels are found
smudged kisses
mascara stained
cheeks of Cinderellas
holding spaces
for roses are red
and violets are blue
daisy chains
of love me
love me knots
tightly
tied
small victories
virtues held
and lost, conquests
stroking glass slippers
drinking in the gins
and espousing
their 3 wishes
looking for
long lost Kings
failing that,
settling for
paupers, not
princes
their crystal balls
over brave and
missing the mark
shattering
then later
lying unclaimed
under the sun
melting
through the
flaws
Dear dada
add an “ist”
to it all
escapist
artist
tourist
minimalist
extremist
illusionist
fatalist
but never
realist
escape artist
mud wrestling naked
in poetic jello, at the
Cabaret Voltaire
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Dadaist.
One hundred eighty one days ago today,
Jews began their day, as usual in every way.
Jumped out of their beds and prayers. were said.
They dressed and fixed coverlets on their beds.
Mothers cooking breakfeast…but not for very long.
As killers with bullets ended their morning songs.
Safe Rooms were to be a place to run and hide,
But many were killed instantly in this crimson tide.
These people, living in peace and loving harmony,
Were slaughtered,not significant enough for poetry?
Their older children at the Nova concert for peace,
Met death at dawn or were taken hostages, like sheep.
And while we get our trophies and POTDs’
Jews and Americans still hostages, are important to me.
1,200, savagely killed, the morning of October Seventh.
By methods, so heinous, and were dispatched to heaven!
The sadness, has never left my Noahide, weeping soul.
But to have others, never forget,is a significant life’s goal.
This was a horrid, bloody, pogrom in my very own lifetime..
And loss as horrid as this, is to be remembered is soulful rhyme.
4/7/2024
Some flowers bloom well into twilight,
moonlight mesmerizes them,
leads them into dreams of distant dawns.
The velvet drapes of summer
do not offend them,
rather they entice
as they bathe
within deeply tidal lullabies.
Gently the blossoms succumb,
gentle is the soft enfolding.
A warmed and darkening air descends
to couple with the intimate scents
of floral favors, perfumes that linger
upon wafts of intimacy.
all hidden by sequestering shadows,
an efflorescence is shared
within a sanctuary of confidential pleasures,
raptures far from
the harsh dazzle of daylights
prying gaze.
Moss on the shaded ledge
spreads across the rooftop of the shed
gluing shut the shingles edge,
sun reflects the spurt
lemon yellows, lime green patchworks
gathered quilted coverlets of quirk;
willow limpets sweep away
residue of broken branch leaflets braised
browned and burnt by summer heated light rays;
suddenly the day becomes night torn
shadowu images stepping walkings formed
beneath the cloudy sky dark swarms,
hurricane gusts race then stop
wild and free tempests pops
sprawling in between every treetop,
earth below the storm
cools briefly from the chilly warm
and at last, breathe in the lulling calm.
Midnight on the Clock
Midnight gray blocks out the stars
in racing steams of flowing clouds.
Moon light hides behind windy puffs
of smoky filtered white.
October nights are cooled by lingering rain
cold riding the wind.
A sudden drop in temperature calls out
for blankets and warm coverlets.
Tugging up against the chin downy warmth exudes
wrapping the body safe and snug.
Warm wood scented fires rising to the sky
wafting in the wind.
Winter waits in the background hovering t the door
with promise of cold and ice and snow.
Midnight dark slips in whistling winds in the trees
pulling leaves loose to set them free.
Autumn falls floating on the twisting turning breeze
sliding thru the maze of pumpkins.
October slides into November’s ghostly souls in flight
set free of this physical life.
Misty haze hangs then sweeps by in dulled vision
bringing tears to life and flow.
Seasons wrestle back and forth teasing and taunting
to be reborn in time.
Cool shadows drift wayward touching sharp and harsh
against the frosty earth.
Time edges in inches away with the race
unguided into history.
Midnight passion purple blends bold and brazen
into an overture of song and hymns.
Psalms, prayers, and promises sing soft and quiet
the solemn dreams of Solomon.
A time for every season of poverty and plenty
setting hearts afire with desires.
A flow of life’s endless continuance of hope
rising on the harbor waves.
Embers rise off in the distance setting wispy images
figures ghostlike in the air.
Tightly close the windows and the doors
lock out the visionary thoughts and specters
Enraptured, the dreams steal away to all that is left
Midnight on the clock.
Hats are such a marvel,
when the weather is so garbled,
A multitude of quick coverlets to warm the brain
protect the head from snow, wind and rain.
A dapper, flamboyant chapeau
to quickly dawn where ever you might go,
A fedora brandished by some handsome man
that would display his appealing stand.
A stetson for the guy from Texas
who stands tall before the rest of us.
A tam, a topper
a Panama show stopper.
Some pretty little girl in a bonnet
that inspires a Shakespearean sonnet.
Better yet, a woman's choice of millinery
to walk a fashion show off fritillary.
To church or same gandiose Easter parade
that gleams and stands above the seasonal charade.
Hats are such a blessing
when the cold requires warm protective dressing.
The prediction is for gusty winds and cold,
hats need only be warm not necessarily bold.
Take your pick
but make it quick
your nose, your face, your head
need covering, that goes unsaid.
as temperatures drop
My wishes are for Earth beings to quiet
and hear the whispers of a star-filled night.
Listen to snowflakes as they gently fall
Hear the music of a winter bird's call.
Breathe in soft quietness, so our souls may heal
Know that what's before us is what is real.
Bask in the warmth of tangerine sunsets,
and silver moon wearing star coverlets.
Relish the trees, blossoms waiting to grow,
be grateful for each morning's sunrise show.
Cherish our families and those we hold dear
Let all unkind words fall on our deaf ear.
Let happiness find its everyday place.
Accept others' love as we accept grace.
Help those crying, give them true joy to feel
When enough wish these things, they will be real.
December 3, 2021
Out Of Water
Eternal suffering
Fresh cleansing rain,
regain
Harmonic smells so wonderful,
restores impressions in your mind of ocean shores
Rainbows of prism refracting,
colors that are spellbinding
red, orange, yellow, green, blue, Indigo, violet
mixtures mystifier of lights and shadows aver
Cleansing the air,
beautify and reign over azure suggestive buttermilk sky
Green crisp canopies of forest trees
Tall, lush emerald green grass that sway in the breeze
coverlets of ferns, climbing vines embroidered through trees
and stray flowering plants that grants
a playground for musical birds that perch or fly to the skies,
enchanting dance of the butterflies, and an orchestra of the wild,
a spiritual wonder all thirst for shelter and pure clean water
Glacier’s abundance surplus
Beautiful lustrate waterfalls so gracious
Running water through rocks and sand,
adding to erosion of filtrating
The voice of the future echoes a plea
An epiphany
Purge memories shall come to cease
Dearth of rain
Yearning thirst will attain
Drought, dehydration, famine, poverty,
sickness, anguish wildlife perishes
Eternal suffering and losses
The future beseeches
2/17/2015
Contest: Out of Water
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Yesterday I wrote poem how about how when the ocean waves meet the land they leave little drawings in their wake…little artworks in the sand.
Marilyn, and old friend from my Ohio high school days (that was a long time ago!) reminded this now-Floridian…there’s also artistry in the snow.
She opened a door into a room in my mind where memories of old art I retain:
Like waking up and looking out my window to see the snow after a rain…
How the world outside was different than when I went to bed at night.
How everything was coated in little coverlets of white.
How overnight while I slept…there was an unexpected freeze…allowing nature to paint the snow that fell onto the branches of the trees.
Everywhere I looked snowflakes could be found…
Clinging to the rooftops…blanketing the ground.
But nature was not content with snow dominating my entire view…
So she added beams of yellow from the sun against a sky she painted blue.
And knowing she needed to add more color into that day’s art’s design…she added drops of red by painting cardinals in the pines.
So thank you Marilyn for reminding me…for making me aware
nature’s beauty is not unique to Florida…it can be found everywhere.
Thanks for reminding me it’s in the widest ocean…in the smallest babbling brook…that beauty’s all around us…if we take the time to look.
Thanks for opening a door to a room I closed long ago…
Thanks for allowing me to stand on a beach in Florida…
and remember the beauty of a winter snow.
It's a winter wonderland
pure, pristine, clean,
cleansed of the darkness
given to the transition of the light
release from the cold blackness of night.
The morning sun rise glistens
reflective rays listening
winds blowing off the cotton ivory coverlets
from every bouncing branch
within the chill of winter's first dance.
Snug and warm within closed doors
safe, protected in the confines of these walls
the season echoes a recurring call,
of peace, goodwill, promised hope
from the gifts of Heaven's host.
A celebration of life living from sacrifice
the heart fires begin to ignite
decorating trees, ornaments and lights
for recollected finds
in memorialized Christmas time.
Two thousand years dusting the centuries
of the Christ child's entry
his birth along the once desolate earth
renewing hope, joy, promises and love
gifts from our Creator above
it's the bounty and gratitude
revealed in
the first snow
reminder of where
we have been..