Long Cusp Poems
Long Cusp Poems. Below are the most popular long Cusp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cusp poems by poem length and keyword.
Is my notepad a blank space,
canvass or image-ridden spot,
thoughts of aqua bead elation,
mesmerise beyond the fence,
they jump gaudy traffic lights,
but runaway relish cuts wild shape,
when fantasy and environment,
a seamless transit might appear,
notions spiral in frothy oceans,
as time a spring time winger,
unfolds, unveils, unfurls,
its unique ruby nugget chain,
a doorway widens wondrous wares,
I am wide awake to treasures,
set on blaze by rapid prompt,
pencils, crayons, brushes lie down,
to attention writer’s tools,
and a dab of paint on rim,
I’m this usher pulsing conduit,
verily at the cusp of opus,
that has a charging current,
to be found heartily exuded,
must this inbred dalliance,
count for that mint broadside,
as I dwell behind an urban hedge,
the water of wafer thin wetness,
I peer at whilst straying lazily,
to pick up the city rumble,
to avoid that red blush tumble,
into pop up pool endowed,
with variegated plant life enshroud,
frangipani, star jasmine, golden cane palm,
exotic edge encircled feast,
schools of fish in wagtail swarm,
aquarium exhibit for marine throng,
fascinated by the plethora of genus,
and mindful of early dawn tread,,
figment is that candle to nourish,
in saliva swirl anticipation ahead,
that bright mark one might conjure,
as the verse weaver weighing contour,
synonym, wordplay, idiom equivalent,
sudden splash of ink,
indignant worst hand scribble,
gathering, assembling, unifying,
morning hours a speedy sequence,
noonday intermission, afternoon stretch,
evening getting close,
one on a journey might amass,
inspired phrases for posterity,
I wonder has my time come or gone
They survived the Great Depression, my parents did
living from hand-to-mouth for over a decade
Took any job they could get, and were grateful for it
working 72 hours a week for a ‘salary’ of twelve lousy bucks
My father watched grown men cry and jump out of tenement windows
ashamed that they could not provide for their families – two or three a day, he told me
My mother heard ‘dirty Jew’ hurled at her so often
she became obsessive about washing her hands and face…
…Yet when it came time to serve their country
they were first in line for the privilege of seeing America through WW2
Fighting side by side with fellow un-hyphenated Americans
Jewish or Catholic, from Italy or France – didn’t matter
Americans all, they fought their hearts out for the Stars and Stripes
for the land of the brave and the home of the braver
******
And now, it pains me to see what we’ve become on the cusp of our 250th birthday
Capitalists fleeing our signature city, NYC, run by an unrepentant socialist radical
‘Woke’ Governors, Congressmen and Mayors giving away ‘stuff,’
Free health care, free college, free food, free rent, free bus service, free, free, free
The greatest public misfit of any age, Bernie Sanders, the cheerleader egging it all on
And the devil himself, George Soros, quietly financing the destruction of the country
America! that saved his life, granting him refuge from the Nazis
******
May my mother and father, and their entire generation, rest in peace knowing they made
America great once and made us all so proud.
The parachute cloud like a rainbow wave,
undulates up and down - a swooshing sound.
The force of a light breeze or a great storm.
Voices lifting and buoyant, glory bound.
Soft lilting lyrics with angelic glow.
The parachute cloud like a rainbow wave
spurs lightning sparks into expectant eyes.
Flood of pleasing screams cajoled to behave.
Holding on, parent’s hands on the cusp of time.
Ethereal friendships made in the round.
The parachute cloud like a rainbow wave,
undulates up and down, a swooshing sound.
The storm of toddlers underneath resound
with gleeful voices, stomping feet too loud,
but powerful - the joys and smiles, it gave —
the parachute cloud like a rainbow wave.
7/4/2018
Warm weather comes on the cusp of winter
High green grasses borrow soil for the season
To fill in every inch of lands pervasiveness
Stretched fields of new born flowers
Hide by tall trees for a while blossoming
Sun dances in the sky of Spring
A picnic is the perfect thing to bring a smile
I pack up sandwiches and…..
Must not forget the misses
We bring our own ants in a cardboard box
On the chance there aren't enough out there
A white thick blanket is a necessity
Dark red wine to spill on it if things go right
A mischievous kiss placed by chance
After all we came to drink and play
There is the possibility of rain
We thank God for sandwiches and ants
For over hanging trees for our umbrella mysteries
High grasses will be our brake
If we should fall
In love or on the blanket by mistake
*
* *
B Beginning on this journey, I rode the cusp of different signs
O One path would lead to Venus, yet to Mercury I have climbed *
R Reaching for the stars, was a curiosity * *
N Never knowing just what might have been, where the other path might go
*
U Under power of the universe, each complex twist and turn
N Now it holds me in its flower, where my destiny would bloom
D Deep within my heart, I held a comet’s tail to ride
E Eclipsing secrets of the moon, and the stars to be my guide
R Reflection of the twin in me, that can see the other side *
G Gazing with curiosity, through life’s dark and cloudy windows *
E Each pane of glass stares back at me, a entwined reflection shows... *
M My mirror image , is she perplexed? I wonder if she knows…
I I search her face, but secrets hide, the mimic's eyes are sealed *
N No hint revealed,.. she is quite resolved..and like the moths of night
I I flutter, as does she, against the glass, to reach the light
I wrote verses on sullen wings of a lonely lark
romantic phrases I had written in perfect rhyme
but the avian flew off when night grew dark
I wrote no further poetry for the longest time
A beautiful blue jay then landed upon my lawn
I wrote such sweet prose on his sapphire wings
He spent many nights but at the cusp of a dawn
he left searching for other pleasures life brings
I answered the mating call of a handsome raven
Love sonnets I inscribed upon his ebony wings
He stayed for years with me in our safe haven
before I became one of the raven's castoff things
I shall no longer place trust in those who take flight
I lost them all and for a time, my torn heart bled
On restless wings of others, I'll never again write,
trusting myself to compose upon my wings instead
Once upon a threshold By David Kavanagh
* more is revealed standing upon the threshold ~ than trying to cross it* by poet
There are no answers except the obvious one
plain language, and earth goes round the sun
There are no problems, only that they occur:
random chance, denial, then existential blur
Search the abstract,
conspire in a dream
scoop one’s mind out,
(open up) and scream
There are some leftovers, evidence of a past
showing one basic truth, life’s not meant to last
What a mindless fate, and price to pay;
still, nature isn’t cruel, has no conscience per se
Beyond the cusp lies
a juggernaut of bricks;
Whatever put it there
stuck fast in the mix
And all the time wasted contemplating what if,
trying to see beyond oblivion’s cliff,
an afterlife is promised, or so some say;
They drip feed gore, while turning good blood away?
Fly up to heaven,
where in the hell?
It’s all purgatory,
down here as well
Gods have been made through mass production;
an AI one’s coding, under self-construction,
conceived by data, not natural evolution;
these cells in our hand, a personal contribution?
It’s nobody’s fault,
there is no blame;
we may have choice,
although none to claim
So disappointing, understandably so,
to find logic itself sets limits it can go
Yet here I stand on the threshold of knowing,
aware at last, there’s nowhere left for going
Content in myself
only when I am,
It’s all very real,
but also a sham.
By David Kavanagh
Copyright © David Kavanagh | Year Posted 2025
how i feellifeperspectiverhyme
Cantos Uno Obsessive Eclipse Octavia
Israel is like a mote on mankind’s face
Born on May 14 1948 ,
A host of problems a bloody disgrace
I see two eclipses to change it’s fate,
A lunar eclipse Sept 7 next year
A rotten tepid corpse is Isreal’ end,
Dec 28 2 years away I fear
Which lunar eclipse could fulfill the trend.
There are some partial lunar eclipses too
They are 4 and 5 years apart in time ,
Will these doom angels assure Isreal is through?
Israel gone -time for Palestine to shine
And The last eclipse is to far away,
I might be dead that time who is to say
The first partial eclipse I will be here ,
What doom will I find on the blogosphere
Cancer is on Israel’s tenth house end
Saturn in Cancer a weak place for sure ,
Moon in tenth conjunct Saturn -a friend
The Moon godliness. for Saturn is the cure,
Let us look at the Nakshatra for the Moon
A godly message for Israel -a boon ?
The Moon’s Nakshatra is in the 8th cell
Pushya acts godly as far I can tell.
Cantos Duo: Considerazioni Astrologiche
And Israel’s 7th house cusp is Aries. too
And plenty of foreign disputes to date
And Mars in Leo in the 11th -true
Ready for war that it anticipates
For Israel it is not an good investment
This behaviour just brings resentment
Israel can be to aggressive to some
To self assured in disputes they think they won
But the 7th house is Israel’s allies
When Mars transits the Tenth time for a coup
With the above config allies strategize
Mars nakshatra,Magha great success too
Sun is in Taurus -gets resources from friends
Ruled by Venus in the 9th bucks never end
Wars it undertakes they feel surely blest
Wars it undertakes ,it feels it passed the test
The Sun’s Nakshatra is called Krittaka
The Sun acts like a persona non grata
Envoi:
Isreal civic views are like swine
Eclipses purport drastic change
Warn Israel free Palestine
If you don’t change you are deranged
Take no crap from Zionists too
And they twist facts to thier taste
If we do mankind is screwed
Set them straight else all is a waste
Not all Jews are Zionists too
These Jews think these folk are morons ,
Please I ask don’t conflate the two
No, then you will get a sermon.
Her mocking salutation in salute.
Sudsing down your brains drawingboard in a victoriously ill repute.
Nature's pendulum holds you in it's dungeoness pattern of holding, then you go down it's chute.
Hell's guillotine greased, oiled,
sparkling it's grinning teeth bare,
waiting to have you.
At an altar of self sacrifice,
to the taste willing flesh- au pair.
Hands thrown to the four winds, and you down her stares.
Tripping while galking at her balcony.
Every which way you roll in the dis gust.
Whispering sorrow across the Glade.
Comes that silvery voice in alchemy.
Across the fortress, under seige that no longer serves as your own, but betrays in mutiny.
Conscience, erased clean, washed to arrays of vacancy, vagrancy, shift phased,
beamed, deemed, worthily-unworthy.
But chosen just the same.
A frozen mural of the living.
Ignoring perditions telltale signs.
It's propriety flashing in a neon haze.
Emergency.
Lights out.
Divergence.
True colors bleed.
In the ritual that brings a nightcap on the
remains, of the day-
That fell against the dusk-
Beneath the shadows of lights cusp.
The repose that lies unrebuked in between-half lifes and sinew.
Half full of temptations brew.
Whole mind to be punched drunk.
Shenanigans to ensue.
The undeads morphine pushing Angel.
Karma Sutra supernatural instructor
of compromising positions of mortal danger.
Too much for you proofed.
Her nails painted quaint,
and tender while tenderizing you in hellfires tinder;rotisserie spit
the choke, the ribbing in the
private joke;
The masterstroke, of sparkling sway, taking away care, caresses
for play.
Sugar cube down in her fairey gleeming's; melting into the half empty cup of
silver stomached linings, a slivered casket in the red district on display.
With silver bullet pan flash with
no cares handling.
Fondling, her cashed in-massaging in her squeeze;
spits in your eyes, takes what is clear- in front of you unto blackened fade from audacity; a sidewinder
of curvaceous sleaze.
Spellbinder.
Sensing the atmosphere for omens.
Signs of impending, cusp and verge.
I ping and curl, scrape to drudge up-
internal program and hit send
and hope for good vibes return "not the end."
I have become a lightless diode.
A buzzing lamppost in the neighborhood
of victimhood and it's backstreet node.
A useless burnt out core in off mode.
A robot running over castles
premade in the sand.
I try to read between the lines,
decrypt the Oracles plans behind,
the fulfilling jinx it has in store foe me.
Stars aligned.
A telepathy mainlining, a pulse headlining freakshow.
Of kinetic belonging, or safety net I used to abide in
long ago.
When the world had justice and overseer
and endearment-
enthronement-thoughts of the faithful.
I long for the ether of a hint,
graft me in with your marrow, splint, in the know.
Don't leave me high and dry,
Alone and crooked, wicked bent.
Odious clouds and signature mounds.
Terra-blyte your foretelling,
Either a warning or a telling of blue skys color turning.
Ether, of any which way the wind blows in my mind.
A private message, rather stalking.,
as it stands a topography cone of cold stand.
Your best made plans, for me
for the tasting, cast of shadow.
forecast, menacing.
Bound to be set in stone, found rather mocking.
Injected in-guest-guessing an after the fact thing,
for me.
You read my fear as I fill
a prescription of
my self fulfilled prophecy,
rolling the bones
with fate's hands.
I hear there's power in the knuckles,
the joints, the suggestion of glands.
Just. Faint whispers,
whisking by
warning-arrows
with no flame-
no spark burning for me.
Just a whisker filament, fading to the darkest
sharade of gray, hit parades.
To shade my own guilty sense of judgment.
Of putting my trust in false things.
With their superficial gradient of monochrome;
night rainbows,
overlooking Styx river country home
aside a brick road leading all the way to Thunderdome.
My sonar/feeler brain finding it's way
in the dark like a worm in the dung.
In someone else's element.
With no taste for mental or spiritual atonement.
Or the taste of Hope's spark on my tongue.