Long Curtsied Poems
Long Curtsied Poems. Below are the most popular long Curtsied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curtsied poems by poem length and keyword.
Do you remember
when it was early,
or when too late
falling in curtsied tide..
feet too deep in depth
where wandering shallows hide
and all our pirate secrets kept.
Am I still the stranger in your night?
so much you still don't know..
making my memory smile
watching love grow
you came shinin' to me,
a simple cell phone
your only light.
Like soldiers laughing nervously
as they march off to the front
realizing life's candle, their only chance
perhaps afraid, still feel want
and wait the call to advance.
Sat watching awhile under a tall tree
next to a carved stone
learned you've done the same
let days wander on their own
never dwell too much
the reason they've flown
yet
still so glad they ever came.
I see you through a sort of prism
one softly spun in sugar and fire lit
where wavelengths in light are most bent
in hindsight, bet your maker meant
to name you Violet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear."
-George Addair
Angelic and young , I was mesmerized
By the glitter of fame, of endless applause--
For a world became my audience, enticed
As heaven’s stars curtsied to my glory.
This power drugged me with blind illusion;
Ignoring right choices that barbed a life--
A free-fall through sins without a vision
Where an altar of egoism ruled.
Though I tried to grapple with such fake thrill;
How corrupt my pride, each dose addictive
That burnt wings plunged into vices , downhill
My inner child howling...lost in a maze.
For my sweetest desires have gone astray...
O , AGONY! Yet, arms reaching for hope
Brought me near, nearer to Light’s healed way,
To slowly find and embrace my true self.
8/21/2017
Laura Loo’s Fallen Angels Contest
Pardon ma'am, but I noticed you've been staring at this painting for a while
She is beautiful but has such a melancholy face, it's hard to look away
Her name is Veronique and that's me behind her, the little canary
She's been my sorrowful mistress now for almost two hundred years
When the artist painted her she was wearing a subtle smile but then
Gabriel told her he had to leave for a fortnight and promised to return
He vowed to finish this canvas, painting her smile back on again
but thousands of fortnights and volumes of her tears have come and gone
no sign of Gabriel, so my Lady sits and stares wistfully, remembering him
She touches the bow of her violin but hasn't played since the day he left
I hear her weep late at night when she reads the poem he left for her
The edges of the page are torn and tattered, tear stained parchment
but Veronique reads it night after night then holds it against her heart
He wrote in extravagant hand the words, now on yellowed page:
Thou fill'st my heart with love
More than any winged birds
Could fill the heavens above
Thou art the chalice of my soul
The cup from which I drink
My warmth when I grow cold
Thou art nectar of my desire
Thou art the spark of my fire
Those are words any fair maiden would swoon to have written for her
She still holds hope that her Gabriel will return but I worry about her
She keeps repeating the words he wrote on the back of this painting:
My Veronique ~
Goddess with cinnabar tresses in green velvet dresses
I've told you her name and mine is Cyros. May I ask yours?
A subtle smile crossed her lips, her skin pale and wrinkled with age
This lovely woman with touches of cinnabar in her grayed tresses
Stood with charm and grace. She curtsied in her green velvet dress
In whispered voice said, "Cyros, I am Madame Veronique Rossetti"
Painting: Veronica Veronese Artist: Dante Gabriel Rossetti
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6th of May, 2016 Within A Gilded Frame Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
My horse prances.
And she dances,
As she spins around
She looks graceful
And so tasteful
Her hooves hardly touch the ground
Her long eyelashes
She seductively flashes
As she lifts gently in the air
Her thick mane flowing
From a breeze that's blowing
She dances without care.
She is captivating.
Her audience is waiting,
For her to thrill them more.
The horse is tiring
The crowd desiring
For just one more encore,
A moment to ponder,
As away out yonder,
Voices are calling out
They sound worried,
Anxious and flurried,
Then they begin to shout.
"Daisy, where are you?"
We have all been searching,
Since a quarter past two
We need you to come home, old girl,
It's time to be fed.
From the distance
Daisy heard the call.
What a time she had
entertaining one and all.
She curtsied to her audience,
Then she made a bow.
Then she said, "I am sorry folks,
I have to leave you now,
I hope you enjoyed my performance,
I shall be coming back.
I am feeling tired,
I'm going home to hit the sack."
When she first came into this world, I had teardrops in my eyes
Rocking her to sleep at nights, was sure to make me cry
With my pinky held in her hand while a bottle she was fed
The moistness came to my eyes every time I put her in the bed
When she first took the bus to school, I wept like a little boy
The emptiness I felt that day mixed with a bundle of pride and joy
The courage that my little girl showed with pigtails in her hair
Filled my eyes up with tears - when she returned they still were there
When she had her first recital, I held a hanky in my hand
There were tracts of tears upon my cheeks as I would clap and stand
She curtsied in her tutu and blew a kiss at me
The water works would not turn off – but that’s no mystery
When she first got her diagnosis, I tried my best not to cry
But when my little girl said, “It will be alright”, I couldn’t keep them dry
She never complained about this turn of bad luck that came her way
And when I couldn’t be as strong, she always wiped my tears away
When first I knelt beside her grave, I had no tears left to loose
I would have followed her to heaven if that was a choice that I could choose
Now I only weep in private, in her room late at night
My world encased in darkness, since that day I lost my light
Oh enigma ...
Endless hours of twilight-daubed magic -
Enchanting walks 'side a moon-splattered sea,
Alight with silver doubloon wave-tops that mock the starry vault,
Toes pressed to the cool, pearly-soft hem of sand,
Imparting each other our deepest notions and dearest aims.
Then ... made a joke to your friends,
Grand laughs over drinks.
Oh paradox ...
Countless midday meadows, abounding -
Hazy summer days where tall goldenrod and foxglove
Curtsied the breeze above our bare backsides,
As if in honor of the sublime, tender, soul-sharing love we made
In the sweet, supple grasses that wove our blanket ...
Hot, breathy moans lost to the buzz of honeybees and hoppers.
Then ... made but a farce in passing,
A casual remark twisted for the sake of giggles.
Oh ambiguity ...
All those preciously amazing romantic escapades -
Priceless moments rare and real, that so few ever get to know ...
Made but fodder for your careless ego ... and I your fool.
Worst of all? I would do it ALL ... again.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Polarities And Paradoxes" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
With her first words she mesmerized his soul,
Of rose water and lavender was her aroma,
Her tip tap of her fairy tale walk was majestic,
A woman of status still in her prime of depth and note,
Wisps of red-hot curls, floating out of control adding
To her appeal, a magnetic touch to the usual
Variety of husband seeking maidens at the ball.
He hurriedly asked her for the opening dance,
She accepted and gracefully took his hand,
He first tested the waters, like a ballerina she danced,
Sadly, the music stopped for an interval, and
So led her back, as her deep smiling hazel brown eyes
Played with his, quizzically asking if she would see him
Again, he bowed and loudly voiced ‘my lady, the next dance
Is mine.’ it was a sweltering July night, she curtsied, and
Walked outside to the patio, attracting every man's attention.
Lord Kingsworth was from Somerset and, the Duchess of York
From Yorkshire, they made a striking couple as they swayed,
Laughed and whirled all night on the dance floor, infatuation
Had certainly crept upon them and the gossip column in
Tomorrow’s Country Times would certainly talk of this romance
And definitely would not let such a juicy piece of scandal escape them.
Lord Edward Kingsworth invited Helen, the duchess of York to a picnic,
Helen, charmingly smiled and accepted, Edward would pick her
Up with his carriage at eleven o`clock the following morning.
He had made up his mind he would ask Helen to become
Betrothed to him, who should he ask for her hand in marriage,
Her eldest brother she explained, as her father had died last
Year of tuberculosis and so it came to pass that after
An engagement of one year which held many ardent nights
And many picnic loving days by the river, which meandered
Close by them, always hurriedly stripping and unashamedly
And joyfully, enjoying the cool water, deliciously naked, finally
Became husband and wife at the beautiful York Cathedral.
What a happy couple they were, and blessed with three
Beautiful little girls who all had their mother’s unruly red hair.
the annual fluffy Christmas dance is about to begin
We sat ourselves down next to my cousin Finn
Shhh! He said, pointing to the Christmas tree.
Be quiet if you are going to sit next to me.
So I moved away next to my Aunt Jennie.
Hey! She said. Tonight’s cat’s name is Winnie.
Winnie came out and took a bow.
We all clapped marvelously, even Uncle Pow.
The cat curtsied, twirled, and did a flip in the air.
Landing in Grandma’s tree. Grandpa said “we don’t care”.
She came out wearing a string of lights all over her bod.
She is so much fun! Yelled my silly Auntie Maud.
“Be quiet! “ Finn yelled. “All of you!”
He is always in a bad mood, determined to be blue.
I felt sorry for Winnie having to live with him.
He is never any fun, my mean cousin, Finn.
the annual fluffy Christmas dance is about to begin
We sat ourselves down next to my cousin Finn
Shhh! He said, pointing to the Christmas tree.
Be quiet if you are going to sit next to me.
So I moved away next to my Aunt Jennie.
Hey! She said. Tonight’s cat’s name is Winnie.
Winnie came out and took a bow.
We all clapped marvelously, even Uncle Pow.
The cat curtsied, twirled, and did a flip in the air.
Landing in Grandma’s tree. Grandpa said “we don’t care”.
She came out wearing a string of lights all over her bod.
She is so much fun! Yelled my silly Auntie Maud.
“Be quiet! “ Finn yelled. “All of you!”
He is always in a bad mood, determined to be blue.
I felt sorry for Winnie having to live with him.
He is never any fun, my mean cousin, Finn.
It had been a day full of miraculous detail.
Freezing rain played the ground like a kettle drum.
Trees snapped and flowers curtsied
before engaging in a pas de deux
with blades of grass on the stage
of this summer eve.
Our erupting blazing star...
Sported a set of yellow barn doors sorely in need of a paint job;
Closed shut with a heavy metal rusty lock seeping a golden shade;
Upstaging the blue sky and creating its own distinct wash
to signal the break of day.
A curvy curved river flowed naturally through
the mountains into a water colored sunset.
The moon waited patiently offstage with bedroom eyes
anxious to make her entrance.
And I,
Well - I just stood motionless,
Hoping to absorb it all;
Hoping to never take this planet for granted;
A non opiate
I like to call
Organic Ecstasy.
And not a sign of men’s hands anywhere in sight.
14~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne