Long Daphne Poems
Long Daphne Poems. Below are the most popular long Daphne by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daphne poems by poem length and keyword.
As the sky weeps
in periwinkle petals of
multicolored roses,
rinsed in lemons, and lavender,
the poet within me
releases a bougainvillea
bouquet of unfiltered gratitude,
swaying to the celestial duet
orchestrated by
the angel of raindrops,
adorned in braided
wildflower crowns and
windswept wishes,
echoing dulcet melodies
rendered in whimsical accents.
I ponder, if tears had a tune,
would it be the
sound of drizzling dewdrops?
Would you then feel
the pain I carry,
veiled in smoky silence?
Or would I forever be
the silhouette cloaked
in fogs of charcoal confusion,
too dark to be deciphered
by the fragmented eyes
that eulogize
all that sparkles and glows?
But when stained sunflowers
swirl beneath starless spheres,
scattering seeds of sorrow
to cultivate a garland of grief,
puddled with poignant poems,
I remain throned,
as the goddess of black rain,
riddled with cosmic rituals,
sprinkling kaleidoscopic dust
upon forsaken fields,
while listening to the
drifting leaflets in crisp air,
pleading for the demise
of my unfaltering faith,
oblivious to the truth
that I fear not
mists of melancholy.
I surf through surging seas,
unafraid of twirling torrents
and blazing tides,
piercingly striking
shimmering sapphires
floating in deafening despair.
There in the abyss of obscurities,
I’m nestled within restlessness,
in rooted resilience,
like a perplexed paradox
weaving crippled odes to
the sun that longs to rise and sail,
splashing hues of cinnamon clemency.
Tonight, I’m counting crooning comets,
amidst quivering hailstones,
dancing in cataclysmic rhythm above,
to find my home within
an island of daphne dreams
and singing seashells.
For I hear the flaming flowers
in their solitary stillness
serenade rain rhapsodies,
to awaken the petrichor
soul of heavy horizons,
wrapped in stringed
milky-quartz beads,
bursting forth blooming tomorrows,
illuminated by chamomile water,
concocted from charismatic spring falls…
Yet I think of us, engrossed
in umbrella moments,
Cupid too envied this
symphony of romance
where love conquered all,
and grief but a blurred memory,
in sunlit souvenirs of yesterday.
Summer Place
A song crept into my soul today riding on the summer wind
Then peeked into my summer place closed for many seasons -
Windows shuttered standing on a grassy knoll
Whitewashed in the morning melody at the waters edge -
Waiting - held in time - face unchanging;
I forgot how I loved to sit
Upon the wysteriaed porch in wicker chairs painted white
To smell the elfin roses reaching for the trellis tops
As summer heavy hangs upon the railing
While a frisky breeze
Hop skips
Across the harbor leaving diamonds in it's footsteps
On the waters
And opens up the wide front door,
Decorated with a flowered wreath,
Inviting welcome to my summer place,
Warmed by summer's enduring caress;
The wide front room filled with bits of yellowed lace,
A fragile nautilus,
Daphne pressed between old diary pages,
Haunting songs of summers past, antique keys
And faded photographs;
I take the album in my hands sitting upon the fragrant porch,
Arms around my knees, tabby kitten by my side,
To watch the games and songs
And friends
Unfold their images across the lawn -
Children playing in the sand at the waters edge,
Voices lifted in the sunlight -
Here, I can touch their hands again,
Look into their eyes
And see our laughter fill the afternoon;
We return from play
Young women,
Dressed in cool white linen,
Sun touched hair bound in flowing ribbons
Enfolded in the breezy twilight on the porch
To feast on summer peaches and gaze across the water
With eyes enchanted by the gathering lights
Twinkling in the dusk -
The first bright stars of evening rising on the darkened air
Whispering of the future borning,
Blessed by the crickets chirping serenade -,
Till I would stand
Alone
Upon the empty porch tightly holding in my arms
Roses,
Red and white
Pink and lavender,
Yellow, crimson, orange and ivory and blue,
Their new perfume ever filling
The quiet rooms of my summer place
Until the golden moon slowly closes the white front door
Putting the key into its place,
Leading me upon the sandy path
To morning
Painting blush upon the sky,
When the summer wind
Whispers
Of a summer place.
Listen, my dears, and I'll tell you a tale
Of a princess, a pirate, and glory.
There's a shipwreck, a rescue,
A romance, a ransom,
And a handicapped whale in the story.
There once was a princess, fairest of all,
But also quite vain and spoiled rotten.
She had a semi-private
Affair with a pirate
That would be but for me now forgotten.
The pirate, Mad Jack, was bloodthirsty and crude,
When upset, he'd explode, blow his top off.
Merchant vessels he sank,
Made their crews walk the plank,
Or, more rudely, their heads he would lop off.
One day Princess Daphne set out to sea
With her maid, they were bound for Majorca.
But the maid, in a gale,
Was swept over the rail
And inhaled by an asthmatic orca.
Lifeboats were lowered, the crew clambered in
And rowed quickly away, only thinking
Of saving their own necks,
Not the princess below decks
Left alone on a wreck that was sinking.
Then through the storm a ship hove into view,
At first Daphne thought it would dodge her.
But before she could hail her,
She felt courage fail her,
From its mast flew a vast Jolly Roger.
When Princess Daphne was brought before Jack,
She was haughty but thought he was handsome.
But to his greedy eyes
This fair royal prize
Represented a shipload of ransom.
But Jack was still human, Daphne was too,
And soon they were sharing their privates.
To his quarters she moved
And his crew all approved,
No one loves a love tale more than pirates.
But what of the ransom, yet to be paid?
Well, here the plot gets even deeper.
The stingy king said to Jack,
"No, I don't want her back.
It's cheaper for me if you keep her."
So Princess Daphne became Jack's sea wife,
And though common, but not mandatory,
When they became parents
They stopped being pirates
And passed peacefully out of the story.
For now then, my dears, that's the end of my tale,
An adventurous one hard to equal.
But, if I may be so bold,
And there's more to be told,
It may one day unfold in a sequel.
Lagniappe
Wide plantation shutters open
With the laziness of
Summered streams
To blink against the shimmering reflections
Of brilliant midday
Dancing on the cobblestones,
Mingling
With the scent of summer lilacs,
Rising
With its bon ami
At the wedding of the dawn
and dusk,
When live oaks
stretch
across broad avenues
To join their hands in shady arches -
Stately guardians
Holding off the power
Of the sun -
Weaving lacy shadows
On the sidewalks
and wide boulevards
Where two sisters meet –
One light as morning
Amber eyes of fiery gold,
One with hair touched by the autumn
Dark eyes deep as midnight shadows -
Gifting lagniappes of affection in
Sweet bouquets of southern honeysuckle
And
Nosegays filled with satin daphne -
Shared in greeting,
Cherished in receiving
As summer's sweet perfume
Entwined about the roses,
Saved
In bands of yellowing lace,
To walk now arm in arm
Under eyelet parasols
Exchanging letters,
Wrapped in satin ribbons,
Strolling through
The winding lanes of secret byways
Sharing sweet beignets
In quiet cafes
In the ete afternoon
While a playful
Huckleberry breeze
Catches emerald ribbons
Floating
From the brims of summer straw hats,
Ruffling petticoats,
Lacy as the Spanish moss
Swaying in the eddies of the air,
Until the jasmined sigh of evening
Mingles with the rising dews
Of the deeply running river
To call them back into the twilight mists,
In reveries for yet another day.
"50 Words for Poe: Posthumous"
Moody dark man haunted mind
Lovecraft sleeps awake eyes open wide
while he writes Her, she possesses he, his lovely succubus Monster merrily
a deep embrace into his dreams spectral posthumous bride becomes her
Lovecraft sleeps awake eyes open wide
wild raging fever in his blood is She
a deep embrace into his dreams spectral posthumous bride becomes her
Dark Danvers dances naked laughing deliciously in the fire with he
Wild raging fever in his blood is She
his very own black-hearted soul sucking Calypso Nightmare Queen
Dark Danvers dances naked laughing deliciously in the fire with he
Beelzebub plays the fiddle burns it up so devilishly
His very own black-hearted soul sucking Calypso Nightmare Queen
penetrates his Lovecraft Church 'N Steeple mercilessly
Beelzebub plays the black organ inside he, burns it up so devilishly
Lovecraft is no Poe is he, now possessed by spectral posthumous bride
She becomes his poetry
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bf00KI2MEGg "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove"
The Dead Can Dance, Album:Into the Labyrinth
“In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulu waits dreaming” H.P. Lovecraft
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." Du Maurier
1.
Lovecraft
https://www.biography.com/people/hp-lovecraft-40102
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._P._Lovecraft
2.
Du Maurier
“Rebecca”
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/oct/31/mrs-danvers-rebecca-daphne-du-maurier-baddies-books
Yet again last night I dreamed I went to Manderley.
Again the rhododendrons perfumed the evening breeze.
I drifted through the terrace doors into the dining-room.
I found Mr. De Winter, sat in the gathering gloom.
Before him on the table, just within his reach,
Lay seven silver salvers, with a cover still on each.
“So hungry, Max?” I asked him. “Oh no!” came his reply.
“For these I have no appetite, yet each one I must try.”
“What are they, then? Do say, Dear! Are they not to your taste?”
“Oh yes, my dear! I loved them all … each in her time and place.”
“My dear, are you unhappy? Why do you feel so sad?
You’re home now, in the place you love. How can that be bad?”
“It is just what you see, Dear, that fills me with despair.
Those dishes on the table, and what is hidden there.
“Each one contains a human soul, of some-one that I wronged.
I must consume them all, or else they will consume my own.”
“If that is so, then eat them, for you cannot hurt them now.
They are all dead, and can’t be harmed, so save yourself somehow!”
“You’re right, my dear,” my husband sighed, “This thing I have to do.
I am so very sorry for the pain I brought to you!”
“It is not pain, it’s love I feel.” I murmured in reply,
But he had started eating, so I left him with a sigh.
And yet I hid behind the door, and watched him as he ate:
Upon his face, a secret smile each time he cleared a plate.
He worked his way from soul to soul, all seven in a line:
But when he reached the final one, I screamed …
That soul was mine!
....................................................
Very loosely based on “Rebecca” by Daphne Du Maurier.
Entry for Joe Flach's "Twisted Minds" contest
Gather 'round me, my dears,
I'll continue the tale
Of a princess and her pirate lover.
Of her crown unencumbered,
They pillaged and plundered
As they wandered the seven seas over.
Crimes maritime were elating
And invigorating
'til Jack noticed a bulge in her tummy.
The princess first was offended,
But then she comprehended
He would soon be a dad, she a mommy.
Two months later, one morn,
Daphne's baby was born,
She said, "Time to rethink our position.
If we stay here, our child
Will grow wicked and wild,
We must provide better, milder conditions."
Jack's crew were confused
When he told them the news,
All they knew how to do was be pirates.
None of them had a dime,
And all too far past their prime
To go home and move in with their parents.
Jack chuckled and chided,
Their fears he derided,
And then much to their mirth and enjoyment,
He said, "We'll start a new industry
That sells hospitality
And offers year-round and seasonal employment."
Do you remember the king?
That mean, stingy old thing
Died alone in his big empty palace.
But before his reign ended,
His will was amended,
And Princess Daphne inherited alles.
She thought the place would work well
As a swanky hotel
Or a posh B&B just for pirates.
But Mad Jack and his gang
Were arraigned and then hanged,
They should have kept their retirement more private.
And thus, dear ladies and dudes,
My narration concludes
About Daphne's and Jack's days of glory.
She turned her dad's mausoleum
Into a pirate museum
And made a killing, some say,
Conducting tours every day
For visitors who'd pay
To hear a pirating princess' story.
The powers that be, undefined, ruthless, opaque authority
Shapeless, bodiless, upstanding folk, coercing the majority
Overseeing applications, supplications, ensuring conformity
Specialists in quagmires, minefields, esoteric bureaucracy.
The powers that be, model citizens, high ranking royalty
Peerless above the law, protected from a droned society
Scratching each other’s back, freeloaders, freemasonry
Funny hand shakes, codes, wink wink nudge nudge faculty.
The powers that be, puppet masters, answering to nobody
Church going pagans, planted within god fearing laities
Penchants for young hookers, high class swinging orgies
Masters of the universe, demigods, self serving deities.
The powers that be, off the radar, shirking accountability
Magnates, judges, ministers, businessmen, your attorneys
The A listed, elite, endemic, prevalent, shrouded in mystery
Wrong side of these people, you’ll disappear no conspiracy
The powers that be, yet another victim, where’s Khashoggi,
Are his killers really in prison, more likely given new identity
Some ask too many questions, Maltese journalist Daphne,
Blown up in a car, getting too close, unsettling the fraternity
The powers that be, its not possible I’m losing it completely
Because I believe a certain ilk, walk amongst us with impunity
Live behind walled estates, big donations for political parties
In return, yes sir three bags full sir, here’s to your anonymity.
By
David kavanagh
We start at the end, with the warmth of his breath on her skin
Baulked by proximity, he never knew how to begin
A golden-tainted obsession, bitterly laced with lead
Transformed rapture to quicksilver the instant Cupid fled
A moment held, made static, tender touch met with distress
For seeded in her veins, lies a stem of the wilderness
Pursuit stalled just in time, yet time itself recalibrates
Supplanted upon breaking, a laurel shoot germinates
Oh, what should have been the faintest touch cannot be undone
Rooted in the throes of escape, bound to bask in full sun
Sinews harden to fibre, each pulse springs a bonsai tree
Bark chokes her voice box; silent screams nest in the canopy
Locked in abjection, as her praying hands first plead then splay
As liberty, though not consciousness, is taken away
Overruled in evergreen, contortion as regal crown
Petrified white marble shall become her eternal gown
In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, the god Apollo mocks Cupid for wielding a bow, claiming it unworthy of a child. In retaliation, Cupid shoots Apollo with a golden arrow to ignite love, and Daphne a chaste nymph with a leaden one to incite revulsion. Though innocent, Daphne becomes the target of Apollo’s relentless pursuit. Just as he is about to seize her, she prays for escape, and her body is transformed into a laurel tree. Bernini’s stunning sculpture captures the precise moment of this metamorphosis
In yard inside my haven home structure
appeared brown bear
depressing during
the darkest coldest times of the year
color is absent fragrance non clear
Blow the blossoms flowers are
winter still pansies and viola
My heart soul warm by winters flower
Quite purple yellow
Galanthus snowdrop white
like butterfly atop green stalk top
Darling droopy headed flowers
in front borders
in rock garden
blooming snow on the ground
Winter spills, daffodils
Lenten roses multiple petal star
Soft pink cloud white Hellebores
My heart soul warm by winters flower
Fruits balls clusters of
Winterberry. deciduous holly
Yon, lily of the valley shrub
Bell like
Winter Aconite
Petite snow flower appear
Witch Hazel
Wispy yellow. orange flower
Pretty Primrose red, purple, yellow
My heart soul warm by winters flower
Cold Camellia reminiscent roses, flourishes
Glory of the Snow late winter bloomers purple white leaf
Mahonia leathery frond
Evergreen shrub
Ornamental Kale ruffled foliage
Gabbage like heads
Petit peeking through snow, Crocus
Cyclamen beneath deciduous trees
Darling Daphne fruity fragrance
Lovely sighted in late winter springs on the way
My heart soul warm by winters flower
12/16/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023