Long Decor Poems
Long Decor Poems. Below are the most popular long Decor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Decor poems by poem length and keyword.
In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.
He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.
We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.
I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.
A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.
In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.
When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.
:: 05.17.2024 ::
(c) 2024 EP Robles
New moonrise
Luna aura;
Misty magic
~~~~~~~~~
Swaying trees
Tender saplings;
Spring decor
~~~~~~~~~
Wet evening air
Weather ominous;
Midnight storm
~~~~~~~~~
Random faces
Crowded walkway;
Bus stop moments
~~~~~~~~~
Old lady smiles
Ask directions;
Someone helps
~~~~~~~~~
Minimalist
Artistic brush strokes;
Less is more
~~~~~~~~~
Dreary weather
Thunder punctuates;
Wet window panes
~~~~~~~~~
New book in hand
Held but not read;
Touch momento
~~~~~~~~~
TV sitcom
Chapter 29;
Good versus Bad
~~~~~~~~~
Evening glow
Deep dark conspires;
Stars come out
~~~~~~~~~
By my bedside
iPad at the ready;
Verses emerge
~~~~~~~~~
Poignant thoughts
Lurking unseen;
Words confront
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Last call booming;
Gateway rush
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy sensations
Limp body crashes;
Dreamy escapades
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
28 January 2015
Singapore
A long-standing landmark that I often visited as a tyke,
Was Bert's Country Store just a ways up Dalton Pike.
Dalton could be missed if your eyes you'd briefly close.
The population at that crossroads "town" was thirty or so, I suppose.
The inviting porch had some benches where loafers hung around.
To enter the store you stepped over Bert's snoozing hound.
Winter days you'd find the rabble huddled 'round the stove,
Where discussions of crops, good whiskey and women throve!
An old cowbell jingled upon opening the sagging screen door.
Once inside you trod upon a squeaky, bare, wooden floor.
'Twas a wonder that Bert could find anything 'midst all the clutter,
But in a trice he'd find anything for which you would utter!
Bert had no tolerance for frills or the latest fancy decor.
You'd risk tripping over barrels and rope coiled upon the floor.
The sagging shelves were stocked with canned goods and lanterns,
Wheels of cheese, muskrat traps and the latest sewing patterns.
He sometimes sold hot dogs and sodas under the counter,
As long as the county health officials he didn't encounter!
The Hoosier "town" of Dalton ain't listed on the maps as heretofore,
And, alas, Bert nor his old country store exist there anymore.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
The Domed Teapot Movie Team stores
good running electrical engineering supplies for
the apprentice vape tester stationed
for training with other code guy
system connectors near the
erectifying rainbow falls of
Mr. Mojo's Old City
WHEREAS(S)
the Eccentric Frontier Goldmine Foundation State has
discovered a recent reference model indicating that
the Eclectic Ghoul Aid Company has failed the
combined skating/scooter/car/bike and
forest river vehicle acid test (though they
did oddly OVER_perform with
dirty toothbrushes while on
motorcycles)
ALL OF WITCH LEAVES US WITH
an Elected Peach Boutique Box Collection of
shadow games and chic cottage band
energies perfectly suited to the
Enneagram Test Cook's home decor
NUT TO MENTION (MUNCH ON?)
the elliptically concentric doctor of the
Goon Power Kingdom where
mad duke predicament bosses are
obsessed with my contraption wheel
drop way of UNDER_thinking the
biased fallacy of self-data camera
set collectors viewing the erect or
oral bored college process that
involves repairing old farts for
recyling at flea markets.
It was a bus of ghouls
And it was speeding through painted lines
Pumpkinhead raised a brow and scoffed
As the bus passed me by.
I wondered where they were headed
I figured they were in route to pick up a friend
Or maybe they were going to Walmart
To pick up old lazy bones and some decor
For the den.
As I arrived for work
Everything appeared fine
The sovereign winds ghosted throughout the building
Maybe it was a sign.
At the meeting
Liz confirmed it was true.
"Steve, your working with Matt in dairy…"
I pouted "man, what did I do!"
Everything seemed laxed
Till about ten-forty-five
That's when I heard Patrick
"Guys, there's a bus full of ghouls,
And it's parked right outside!"
Eyore was the first to the door,
He was first in.
"Password sir," Jane said as she raised her shin
"Marikit.." the hutchback snarled
As others formed a line.
"OK, you can pass…"
She said with vinegar in her eyes.
Brianna came from apparel
When she heard Frankenstein's loud moan
Her eyes bugged out of her head
As the monster left her alone.
Mummy came in
Arms extended out
"No more social distance.."
Bryan said as his arms flopped to his sides
Like dead trout.
Destiny came from cosmetics
When she saw Dracula begin to fuss
"I know art very well;
I'll take care of that smudge…"
Edgar Allen poe
And his famous raven appeared next
Pearla peaked out from infants
"What the heck…"
Last to join the party
A five-hundred year old zombie;
He was just looking for some fun
Bryan told Matt and Alton,
"Entertain them guys,
I'm going to get my gun."
"Brains!" The zombie said
Danilo didn't miss a beat
"Nothing here,
You might want to try across the street"
The moon is punched into the sky,
half hidden.
Under this mid-summer half- moon
a tree is carved from a block of wood;
this tree effigy is of course rootless, infertile.
It is the height of Barbie, or Ken, as shapely,
as slender, and easily held in a hand,
as the ax of civilization is held in the hand
as it swings...
The moon knows I am looking for its mystery, what is left of its mystery in this 21st century.
How I cannot see the robots roaming
its surface, and where two space explorers
stepped, long ago; how I can only see it is an ancient spirit- less decor' of the celestial
sphere. I stand looking up, at the moon,
it always catches the eye...
Come with me to the secret spot and show me all that you have got, I want to light a candle to search your heart so meet me at the said spot before it gets dark. I can hear you from a distant and the entire town is getting mad, I see you standing between the frame and you are driving everyone insane. Call it what you may, but nothing is going to ruin my day, the dockets are already signed and everyone is standing in a straight line.
Come with me to secret spot and let us have a serious chat, I will use the light to search your soul and find the termites hole. I heard that it is locked between the spleen and it is disrupting your hearts beat and the treasure that you greatly seek is just one step away from you; it is in the corner next to the shrine cover with decor that looks divine; examine the corners carefully and open the center if the body and there lies the treasure that you are searching for.
How often do we get to speak? How much you make my spirit weep, I have I heard them talk of you but I have never gotten a call or a message from you and nobody has ever told me about, I wait to see if you would come but the years have come and gone and I watch the vision slowly fade but courage keeps me intact and when I go to sleep my spirit wander in deep.
Come with me to the secret spot, we are on the final lap let me tell you what to do to come out on top and push the devil back, he is going back and forth with you and is going to have a confrontation with you, you must search for that tiny spot that will shake the Universe and topple the giant rat. You don’t have much time left so do another round in a different spot in the same town and see what they have got.
The skies are getting dark and the fleet from the East mixed with those from the deep will maneuver the skies before the universe dies. You have pushed the devil back and joy has bought you a new frock, it lights up the whole world and replenish the wounded souls.
. Come with me to the secret spot, and I will show you what I’ve got.
I think I’ll just stare at the wall for a while,
painted in latex, light beiges and creams
Searching for nail holes in random-like patterns,
counting the cracks that appear at the seams
Glance at the baseboard, an alternate color,
maybe a calendar hung from a hook
Red and blue dates with a few of them circled,
months of the year hanging there as I look
Gaze at an outlet, it’s face made of plastic,
switches that point to the fixture they light
Dark jagged lines by a chair that is rubbing,
corners and ceilings and floors all fit tight
Seeing the texture and shapes it’s creating,
abstract illusions as faces appear
Near the reflection of blinds from the window,
illumined distortions that aren’t really clear
Flat as a pancake, not sure if that matters,
straight as an arrow, hey that’s kind of cool
Strong as an ox, that is one man’s opinion,
he was the carpenter wielding the tool
Funny, but while I am sitting here staring,
it seems that it is now staring at me
It doesn’t blink, never changing expression,
making me wonder just what does it see
I shouldn’t worry, it’s merely a structure,
sheet rock and lumber supporting the roof
Something to separate one from another,
see for yourself if you really need proof
So….
That is my day if you happen to wonder,
pen in my hand amidst office decor
Jotting some lines that are found in the boredom,
perhaps next time I will stare at the door
Lake Mohonk
Mysterious, how lake reflections paint the sight
of this magnificent resort built on its shore,
near steep, stone rugged cliffs that double in sunlight;
a masterpiece of nature's wonderful decor.
The depth and beauty of this sparkling lake excite
the climbers to achieve a treetop view surprise,
and walk the winding nature trails at first daylight
to see this tranquil clear blue water as their prize.
Aboard a rowboat or canoe, one happily
can spot the trout...colorful fish with orange stripes.
And peaceful too...to drift along the shore and see
the beauty of the trees and plants of varied types.
Top of a mountain is this lovely Mohonk Lake
revered by visitors today and long ago.
Soft nature's sounds and sapphire loveliness, opaque
beneath reflective imagery, set hearts aglow.
Sandra M. Haight
~Honorable Mention~
Contest: Mountain Top Lake
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Judged: 06/11/2017
Upon silver tracks, in moments held in suspense,
Gentle steps of angels are faintly heard, idly interlaced.
The vault of heaven quivers in translucent azure;
Through the eternities creeps a divine murmur, cold and alive.
The pure echo of the evening mingles with the sunset,
With the shadowed blue, that in the wing of night vibrates and rises.
The earth's labors lose themselves in a deep abyss,
And ethereal slumbers spread over meadows and frost.
In their stead, remains the alluring song of mystery,
Weaving its game through spaces, a secretive enigmatic wave.
From abstractions unfurl indefinite contours,
Like shadows of dreams, on the trails of cherished, holy days.
The stars, candelabra settled in the celestial decor,
Ignite in the night, reflecting the ancient corner of ray.
Whispered, the flow of hours weaves the threads of destiny,
Thoughts, like monks in candles, knitting their quiet chants.
Embracing infinity with a beam that pulsates discreetly,
Lighting up caverns of the soul, another secret universe.
A river of stars murmurs under the arch, an ancient stream carrying,
To lands unwritten where times of silver are forged, growing.
And when night unfurls its veil, an astral map envelops,
Revealing evermore depths, winter dreaming, time without bound in divine grace.