Long Craftily Poems
Long Craftily Poems. Below are the most popular long Craftily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Craftily poems by poem length and keyword.
Another fine spring day gently dying,
Subtle variegated colors and
Tender vivid greens are dappled now
With golden flecks and dollops of buttery sunlight.
Shadows begin their mysterious, meticulous
March across flowers and shrubbery
As they lengthen and deepen closer to the ground.
Standing at my open study window,
I can feel the struggling, waning sun
Slanting softly across my face
As it caressingly bids me a reluctant au revoir.
A palpable silence descends and seems to reign for a moment.
The very air outside appears to shimmer, almost to vibrate,
As if alive with a joyful, youthful exuberance
Too frenetic to be contained.
Through the open casement a renegade breeze steals craftily in,
Brushes my cheeks with cool tantalizing fingers,
And brings with it the seductively heady perfume of a burgeoning earth.
My body strains to embrace
And merge with this welcome newness
As the random thought occurs to me that people are like the spring.
Both are from the past and live many lives,
But, unlike the past which is dead,
Something that is over and cannot return
Except in memory,
People, like the earth each spring,
Reawaken, reinvent themselves and move on.
I, too, feel alive, joyous, youthful and exuberant
As this notion, like the sheer curtains at my window,
Is caught by that cunning, inveigling breeze
And flutters out again like a capricious spirit escaping.
It crept in ‘neath the stealth of sunrise
Easing its way into the shadows
Whispering in an unfelt breeze
Softly soothing my soul
A moment, held in time,
Waiting for my comment
An exhale of thanksgiving
A sly appreciative smile
Spreading craftily across squinting eyes
A distant chorus humming its hymn
A thousand wingbeats
Building the crescendo
Of the Bull frog ‘Harrumph”
The sensation of cool dew
Kissing my bare feet
The sweet-scented symphony
of intermingled flowers
opening their petals
sharing the warmth of morning
as I sat…..rejoicing
celebrating my place
in this awakening
orchestral
performance
The day passes, an idle hitchhiker,
Thumb half-heartedly protruding
A posture half begging, half daring
Go ahead… seize the day
Good luck with that challenge
For daylight slips through the fingers
Craftily dodges with shadowy stealth
All attempts to control it, confine it
A few minutes in a crowded Starbucks
A cold compress of iced coffee
A mindless “atta boy, go get ‘em”
From a high school drop-out Barrister
Another “rope-a-dope” meeting
Stay on your feet, they’ll stop talking soon
How did it come to this
You were once a contender
Another ten round draw
Everyone seems happy
You didn’t embarrass anyone
Rematch tomorrow...8AM
"For those who bear stoically the cross put on their shoulders by others, the cross turns into a crown" - by the Poet
she still smiled,
even when she knew,
life looped over her,
like a hangman’s noose.
she knew she should bear the cross
uncomplaining, without divulging to any
in the rising cadence of a dirge,
imagined it was a melody she heard,
in her laughter was the echo,
of smothered sighs, shot involuntary,
from the corked up bottle of her heart.
in a hilarious company, she languished
like a cockle in the shell.
seemed so calm
when a sizzling inferno burnt within!
was chocked under the weight of the cross
as it hurt deep into her shoulders
tears, long held back
froze and hardened within her eye pits.
now she is a total stranger to herself!
on the beach,
as the sunset hurled ecstasy
across the skies,
she only saw the virulent waves
lashing on the shore
and their tug, inviting.
neither cursed nor moaned
over her soiled identity;
but wondered why only discordant tunes
now came out from her flute
on which, once her rehearsed lips
created such harmonious melody!
under her calm demeanor,
was veiled craftily
the anguish of a life time.
yet in pitch darkness,
counting the luminous stars, she lay-
a seed in wait
under furrowed lands
for the first summer shower!
(An AIDS victim who got it from her husband)
Placed First
A Brian Strand Verse Libre Poetry Contest
Placed First in the poetry contest
Nov. 30, 2021
This or That, Vol. 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Edward Ibeh
Title- A Cross to Bear
Opening the door to Pandora’s box where chaos descends
As the wickedness of the locusts descends upon this world
giving birth unto passions that have no heavenly equity
Craftily-constructed plausibility draws away the inexperienced mind
held captive within the wounds of prejudice that are licked by a splintered tongue
while our Lord patiently awaits with outstretched loving arms pierced deeply
Vain genealogies born of arrogance in an allure to the simple minded
unable to distinguish evil falsehoods from truth they stumble on nevertheless
brass mixed with sliver shines falsely bright to the deceiver and deceived
Error in judgement their blasphemous and impious opinions spread venomously
In an allure of reality where more true than then truth itself beckons mendaciously
souls of Our Savior colourless in creation for the divinity of heaven is not of this earth
Almighty transparency transcends in all earthly traits eclipsing a complete deceit
His Excellency most sublime radiant Gem gleams of eternity for all mankind
Whom when asked gives the Precious gift of His Blood through Grace unconditionally
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and liam mc daid
Grind it all away…
The sadness, the disease of malnutrition, the decay…
I want you to float on high like a feather off a bird
Allowing the calmer breezes to bring you to this world
Grind these cruel thoughts into bits and see the good
I would give you a place to stay if I could
If you would stay, if you would allow yourself to bloom
Instead of blinding yourself with self-hatred and gloom
I am so sick of you hating yourself because of me
I am so sick of wanting to be free
We are…take it all away
Listen, stop screaming in your head for me to stay
I am here—but your cruel necessities drive all away
Lift up your voids of anger, sadness, and deceit
Loosen up your sovereignties—and breathe!!!
I cannot help you all of the time
I cannot save you from the currents
But please…please don’t let the pain flourish
Let yourself free from the bondage of your caged sorrows
Allow yourself to fill up on warmth—allow yourself to swallow!
But upon the excruciating agony—still you wallow
Why do you choose to do this for yourself?
Why have you given up?
You know, what hurts the most?
That you accept your pain…your so-called pathetic ways
And drag me straight down with you…
Shall we swim together in the waste of time,
That you have so craftily established?
I will rise to the surface without blemish
I will tell you once more—be free!!!
And if you only ignore—
All will not matter anymore
I am not staying to watch you fall
Pick yourself up if you care at all
But don’t bring me down like this
Don’t accept the negative wars
Or like a war, fight them off, cut them off, grind them to dust
I will fight with you if I must…
But I will not accept defeat
Get up on your feet
Believe.
(scoured from dregs of me muss held head)
I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money
to countless years (spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spumed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinguished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within each trough and crest
found thee old man with privateer mein
whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.
An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
Squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine,
while circling in a sky of ocean's hue,
and never staying in a too-straight line,
from up above, they have their "bird's eye" view!
While circling in a sky of ocean's hue,
they ride the wind, conserving energy.
From up above, they have their "bird's eye" view;
as scavengers, they eye us craftily!
They ride the wind, conserving energy.
Desiring to fill up their bellies soon,
as scavengers, they eye us craftily -
excited for our scrumptious scraps by noon!
Desiring to fill up their bellies soon -
and never staying in a too-straight line -
excited for our scrumptious scraps by noon,
squalling seagulls sip the morning sunshine!
Dec. 19, 2019 for Eve Roper's Seagulls Poetry Contest
Sprawling aspiration
effervescent incandescence
spreads psychic plasma
of primal spectrum
painting passion
on the silken sky
the configured
fascinated facsimile
of mental panorama
suffused with chromatic
sublime sensitivity
of exuberant ecstasy
blooming in
seraphic color blast
of floral spring
Parched pieces
draped by distress dust
of cinnamon ground
heart desiccates
to the core
auburn anguish
pervading passive
creeps craftily
in the wilted veins
of the fallen leaves
fragile essence
rustles restive
with emerald tune
of serenading sanguinity
Emotive eyes weep
concealed tears
in torment torrent
fill the cauldron
of pent up pathos
forlorn life’s
desolate distillate
designs crystalline
verdance shining
in the jade thicket
on the eroded banks
of awareness
as symphonic cadence
of fervent zephyr
drifting with sonata
of fleeting fervor
from yonder plateau
of yearning
pulsates timeless
with waves of rhapsody
in the bay of bliss
glides with the melody
of harmonic heart
with the ripples
of lilac lagoon
Oh little Krishna!
My ink sprinkles in hues of devout love
as your glory I pen in reverence
My eyes forget to blink: spellbound
Oh! the sparkle in those little lotus eyes
My mind's music magically blooms
and sings in praise - your beauty and grace
as your mor mukut gently moves
when tiny legs dance in glee
Do You know...
the soul of silence seeks to remain silent
and merge with your pure divine self:
Is it a stillness so craftily created
to respond to thy call of Divine Bliss?
Or is it a crave to melt in your mellifluous music
as your flute tune wafts in soft wind?
A moment when
the steps of time will slow and stop:
just for a moment
and the entire universe will gaze in awe
entranced by its enchantment...
Oh my little Krishna...
Date: 08/30/2021
Your Favorite August 2021 Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Note:
Mor mukut is the peacock feather crown that adorns Lord Krishna's head.