Long Curtal Poems
Long Curtal Poems. Below are the most popular long Curtal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curtal poems by poem length and keyword.
Warm and vibrant mirth amidst sweet embrace…
encloses our love-filled bonding moment
my special child’s earnest laughter-bursts reign
enjoying lollipop fast licking race
savouring delight of sheer contentment---
great gain*.
“Thank you, Mom” asserts his sign language glow
grateful response, hiding spasm strain
such grips our exuberant engagement
making me praise the Lord for blessings’ flow
not vain.
*1Timothy 6:6 But godliness with contentment is great gain.
November 4, 2020
1st place, "The Speaker" Curtal Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sara Kendrick; judged on 11/21/2020.
The child was getting tired of being teased
Words flowed from her brother's mouth unfiltered
Had he more vocabulary he'd spew.
She didn't care on that morning if she pleased
She went to the icebox unbewildered
milk threw
We all stood in shock, except her brother
Drenched to the degree of being drowned, whew!
But equal to his cruel out of kilter
words. He's thinking there's ways other to
stir stew
Here in the south sometimes we say of a person that they are stirrer of trouble and we used some different terminology(vocabulary) sometimes.
I used icebox instead because refrigerator would not fit, so going back to my youth when some people still had an icebox.
My understanding of this form is 11 lines. Ten syllables per line except for the 6th line and the 11th line which are suppose to be two one syllable words or a one two syllable word which both syllables are pronounced equally. Really don't understand stressed and unstressed. LOL
Rhyme scheme is : a,b,c,a,b,c d,c,b,d,c
the baby's head
crowns as Father watches --
a dozen red roses
When but a speck gelatinous, unformed, you watched
Watched as the determined swimmer pierced my soft core
Smiled at the countless me's, in the sea of thee, birthed.
Your joyous laughter spins universes with a roar,
marries diverse minions in delight astonished,
as made and unmade we rise, a holy labor.
You watch each molten mountain crest an aching sea
as stark white stars shine in my lovers tearing eyes
smiling at the she's and he's, who chose to be free
of what if's and enjoy this never ending ride
in this holy labor we abide.
Her world has become suspiciously small,
mind walls are blocking margins of escape,
soon she’ll be discharged to fair Pania,*
and there perhaps elegant folderal
with a handsome man in landscape dreamscape
of enchantment beneath Urania,**
(never again to know infernal sins).
Is she trapped in the web of Aranea?***
Perhaps; perhaps not, but with hope agape,
and fingers crossed, she plunges deeper in-
to pools of mania!
* Greek, derived from papias, meaning "crown" or "guard of the Imperial Palace".
**goddess of love; counterpart of Greek Aphrodite
***an orb-weaving spider
MET FIRST LOVE
Met my first love on exchange of glances.
No interaction! Though unbelievable.
Yet mutual emotive urge to succumb.
Love to sprout: Quite natural happenstance
To voice his emotion, he was unable.
Love dumb.
Amour sighed, wept in deep dolor and rue.
Destined silence settled in soul to plumb.
He could not utter single syllable.
Reticence, hesitation induce to
make numb.
10/31/20
First Place
The Speaker Contest by Sara Kendrick
.
Pale dappled clouds drift across the sky_
Chasing the sun away when she wants to peak out;
And when in the shadow of clouds- there is a chill;
But, still the pretty birds glide and fly;
With many multihued gems floating about;
Calling in high-pitched whining shrills.
While across the water are multicolored shadows;
And scattered bleached rocks (of no particular frills!)
Below the ripples on ripples swim speckled trout;
And the birds are in violent pangs and throes:
As though dancing the quadrille.
_______________________
April 17, 2021
Poetry/Curtail Sonnet/Under Dappled Clouds
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1327-694-17
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, All Yours (Apr 18)
All Rights Reserved, Judged 04/18/2021
First Place
A Man With No Name
Met a winsome man fifteen years ago
during the Cherry Blossoms Festival
in Washington DC, in reserved room
to wind down, where Diamond members go.
He looked at me upon my arrival.
Well groomed.
We talked for hours until closing time
without exchanging our names. Leaving the room,
he asked to meet the next night, our final
stay. I said, yes; but did not have the time.
Was doomed.
10/24/20 The Speaker Contest Sara Kendrick
NOTE: Our server told me the next morning, he waited for me until closing time. But, he did not leave the server his name. He checked out that morning before I checked out.
White shade’s drawn, we know Dad is tinkering.
Wheelie on tip toes, his kids’ curious.
Surprises are in store, coming our way.
My brother and I see shadows blinkering.
Wondering! Our excitement furious —
F U N day.
Eleven months apart, our surprise gifts
Dad wheels out Irish twin bikes for birthdays.
His leopard. Basket on mine. H A P P Y us!
Nevermind trainer wheels, our progress’ swift.
H U R R A Y!
11/2/2020
The Speaker Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
*Irish Twins meaning - we were born within twelve months of one another
Might it speak to the lonely
Those who wish to be loved
Might it speak to those who
want and need to be loved
Might it bring together people who
wish to be together
and those who wish to see people happy, engaged and loved
Might it speak to those who need someone
and are loved enough to be loved.
and those who wish to expose themselves to newness
and overlook differances
to be together in the newness of coupling
but that newess is never dulled and always same
just like the first time
just like the first time
the newness of beginning from day to day
Might it speak to those
that one might love me
We tip with easy hands, folded monetary grace
a gratuity for servers bearing plates through crowded rooms;
their labor seen, their weary, waiting face
a quiet plea our gratitude easily assumes.
Why is it then that the offering plate in Sunday’s space
moves down the pew, our giving often blooms
into reluctance — guarded, slow, displaced?
For God asks softly, hidden from our sight;
no apron, no refilled glass, no hurried pace ~
just love received, too vast to name or trace.
And so we clutch the gift meant to be given,
forgetting open hands are how we live in grace.