Long Crisper Poems
Long Crisper Poems. Below are the most popular long Crisper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crisper poems by poem length and keyword.
The sun had vanished, it was black as black,
The air was crisper than ice.
And the wire on the fence whispered a steady humming tune
To hundreds of kangaroo mice.
We’d broken down, in the middle of Australia,
We were alone, my partner and I.
At first it was serene, just sharing a wine,
Under billions of stars in the sky.
By morning it occurred, we desperately needed help,
So we trudged about ten k to a track.
We were spotted by an aboriginal tracker in denims,
Riding with pride, on his horse back.
He gave us some water, then left for a car,
Later towing us to his quaint cottage shed.
He looked over the engine, said we could stay,
Saying if he hadn’t found us we’d surely be dead.
The starter motor had broken, bus was in two days,
So he lay a bed on the cold kitchen floor.
And said to watch any of his hundreds of horror movies,
This guy loved his blood, guts and gore.
This guy lived alone, he knew how to survive,
In this desert, he was fascinatingly unique.
He fixed our car, we gratefully shook hands goodbye,
But I can’t ever watch the movie Wolf Creek.
It felt like Autumn
on this morning’s run
I want it to be fall
with its syllabus of vibes
I’m signaling a stance
I’m autumn’s undoubted champion
wearing my choice like gangland colours
- I could give my all to fall -
summer only ever had my subdivided attention
Summer’s just too needy: it demands relaxation,
bare legs, sun block, beach plans, hydration,
barbecue, and relentless fun, with scant variations
I want the visual promise of leaves falling
the flattering autumnal colour palette
my whole devotion crowns shortening days
fall always serves as a competent stylist
complete with venti pumpkin lattes
and mornings with a costume of frost
Unbind the theatrical heats of midsummer nights
and let the season's advance revive us
show us falls slanting golden afternoon light
let crisper darknesses harbour counterfeit witches
and lengthening dusks warrant winter wishes
Let fall assume her russet throne
and give us autumn’s cool agenda
without the influenza
.
.
Songs for this:
Ping Pong by Dimie Cat
Messy by Lola Young
When it’s unexpected? I’ll burn alive.
My insides will become hundreds of stars.
Little bright lights pressing me to survive,
every scar fills up glass lampyrid jars.
Rings of glowing halos freckle lush skin,
spirals of smoke leave puff lines on exhale.
This montage fusing two horns and a grin
blend together for the perfect cocktail.
A scream will linger more than a whisper,
perhaps I’ll simply try this new tactic.
Ashes contort and diction’s now crisper,
making my phrase a bit more sarcastic.
Maybe I’ll catch fire in my darkest hour,
the pinnacle of sweet turning to sour.
Autumn steals the long days from Spring,
The dawn sunrise turns pinker in the reflection of water
And the morning air is crisper.
Was it Autumn that stole your daughter too?
The season turns, the season flees.
In the way the oak tree clings to its leaves,
You take caution in letting go of the last
Like the carefulness in letting go of your daughter,
You tried your hardest, but you never caught her
And as the new season arrives, you unpack
Your heavy coats.
You learn to get used to missing the warm sunshine
And on the days where the Autumn leaves fall harder,
You crave to listen to the sound of your daughter’s laughter
Mingle with the sound of rustling leaves.
As Autumn deepens, your loss deepens,
Your grief deepens and
The colder days creep in.
Old oak now as naked as the nursery
Without your daughter sleeping
And Autumn winds howl, weeping,
Crying for relief from Fall’s feelings
The way your daughter cried for healing.
Was it Autumn that freed her too?
The season stirs, the season goes.
In the way the oak tree regrows
You open your heart just as the clouds open
To let through the warm sunshine.
You see her in the playfulness of the world’s colours,
You see her eyes in the shape of your mother’s
Do you feel her in the Autumn too?
The frightful winter solstice approaches
with an opaque snow globe life intertwine.
Stars sprinkle early, romance encroaches
upon one headstrong to dread wintertime.
Power poles are overthrown by wind gusts
but the fireplace roars in competition.
Soon the living room temperature adjusts
to our own Norman Rockwell rendition.
Candles flicker like a lover's whisper,
tickling walls with whimsical illusions,
becoming purer, becoming crisper
with cinnamon swirled laughter fusions.
Board games played on the dining room table
welcome nostalgic, restorative thoughts
which begin to inspire and enable
closeness revived, warm poetic jots.
12-18-19
LYRIC OF SPRING
Spring is singing in the air
I hear the southern wind whisper
It stokes the dusk sky on fire
Ambience can’t be any time crisper.
Morning mist masks the ground in dew
Sleeping blades of grass wake up at its touch
Spotless sky splashes ink on its bowl of blue
Silky faces of leaves sprout, the trees watch.
Spring is singing in the air
I hear the southern wind whisper.
Buds open in petals the flushing faces of flowers
Turn into artists’ palette on maroon meadow
Butterflies float on tapestry of crystallized color
Rhapsody of hues from the painting they borrow.
Spring is singing in the air
I hear the southern wind whisper.
I’ve reached you through the frost of winter
My misty heart has melted into a mystique lake
You swim as spring ripples the romantic water
In my unclosed eyes I see you in dreams I make.
Spring is singing in the air
I hear the southern wind whisper
If lyric of love rhymes always in flair
The music of ecstasy won’t stop ever.
March 1, 2018.
Those we love don't go away,
they walk beside us everyday.
Their murmurs soft, a tree leaf whisper
defrosts my heart that did grow crisper
with grief that stained inside and out
when I embraced and lived with doubt
that voices lost to yesteryear
would still be here in atmosphere,
but breezy hands they brush my shoulder
and shake the lilacs, zephyrs bolder
as wind-tossed-scent awakens my recall
of purple June bouquets that did enthrall.
Ah, souvenirs and picture frames
can flare or tame my mourning flames.
Our days once filled with cheer and dare,
alas, souls fly as sheer as air,
or sit to contemplate as still as moss,
they come to help alleviate my loss.
I see them in rejiggered shapes of clouds
or gold of sunshine warmth spilled over crowds;
I catch a glimpse in happy eyes
and sense they’re there in spirits' guise.
A moment here and then they’re gone,
beyond white angel-air-chiffon.
I’ve come to know and feel inside
that never-ending, they’ll reside
within my heart and everywhere…
to sense them near, fulfills my prayer.
As summer ebbs, a cooler breath will dart
as Autumn's vibe is felt in every heart.
For, by late August, changes will begin
as shorter days and longer nights sneak in.
This breath will sigh of brilliance in the trees,
as flowers fade and ripened orchards seize.
While crisper air dissolves the humid haze,
new glory soon replaces Summer's phase.
Oh yes, these Autumn breaths will swiftly flow
to form and paint new views of burnished glow.
Reshape the scenes that rose by Summer's sway,
and offer life to us another way.
When Autumn breath shouts, “welcome to my Fall,”
we will accept old Summer's curtain call.
Oh
O ever changing sky, blue-gray and maudlin
your mood and unsettled ways, meld with mine.
Clouds seem but blemishes upon horizons
as weary as the soot smudged cheeks of urchins.
Bruised in hues at once fresh with pain and longing,
not yet healed by the riper rise of next day’s bloom.
O ever changing sky, the nascent forest’s buds.
Its lashes linger in the purple poignancy of dusk
and whip thy brow with thrashing maple limbs.
Eyeless vault of heaven cry for me, release my plight
erase with thy wonders this tattered visage so forlorn.
The sky of night holds many jewels of delight.
O ever changing sky, clear to crisper shades of sapphire,
ping with shooting stars and glowing diadems of light.
Let lavender blue soften my sorrows for I like Merope*
need Orion’s might to lift my heartache, to point the way.
May thy constant rebirth give hope which melds with mine
and brings a beauty brighter than your Venus** to the day.
*Merope was Orion’s star crossed lover.
**Venus is the Goddess of Love and the Morning Star
Oh goldenrod how bright your blaze
though blooming sunrays bittersweet —
your tint the hint of crisper days
when dusk arrives on hastened feet
amidst the green tall grass you gleam
oh goldenrod how bright your blaze!
gold dust the stuff of Nature’s dream
rich sprays of flame the monarchs praise
a beacon’s beam in humid haze
a rocket flare in atmosphere
oh goldenrod how bright your blaze —
a torch for summer love to bear
as solstice fades no longer spry
and sun-dried skies brown manes of maize
beneath the aging daystar’s sigh
oh goldenrod how bright your blaze!
Susan Ashley
August 17, 2022
~ First Place ~
Writing Challenge - X'd Poems Second Chance Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
*N/A (X'd)
*Contest: Hint of Autumn
*Date judged: September 3, 2022
Rhymes verified: Rhymezone
Syllables verified: howmanysyllables; 8 per line
Photo: Gardenia.net