Long Decreasing Poems
Long Decreasing Poems. Below are the most popular long Decreasing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Decreasing poems by poem length and keyword.
Winter’s body is a car boot sale, a mosaic of the seasons and shifts,
the breezes and breaths of a year’s footsteps, gone.
The battered wheels of a truck, spinning against morning frost, rotate into its eyes.
Berries, dropped by a robin mid-flight, are smushed and stretched to make fingertips.
Leaves colour and curl to form that receding hairline.
Winter is ambidextrous:
can wake in chill, just to later doze in warmth;
is neither gender, with its sex a fresh April daisy and an October mud pie;
has a diary’s dog-eared pages for scabs to pick at.
Puddles that freeze, melt, undulate, act as lungs: expanding. drip. decreasing. drip.
Toddlers’ mittens sewn to jackets decorate Winter’s mouth with a cross-stitched grin.
Winter has stained glass, fired in prayer, for flesh;
regurgitated cud as wrists.
It has clumped silt for a nose, dotted with freckles from sand;
vines that interrupt brick for hips.
Winter is not just winter but the culmination of a year,
with bark as its backbone: a spine that creaks, splinters and
protests against autumnal rheumatism, yet will
slip into a supple Spring bend with the gentle weave of a craftsman’s hand.
Sky, Azure blue this afternoon, the golden sun blazing,
I walked along the edge of a quiet beach, the waves lapping
At my feet, the creamy colored sand through my toes running,
Dark, raven-like clouds collided up high, lightening breathtaking,
The rain came own like torrents, and the thunder deafening,
Late afternoon creeps upon me, raindrops decreasing.
A rainbow appears in the sky, intensely alluring,
The heat becomes tolerable, the Crayola coloring
Of this hope driven dream, the rainbow, absolutely outstanding.
I sat on the damp sand as the evening began drawing
Me into a darker night, my mind started wandering,
Imagine me a mermaid with my merman, a myth depicting,
I looked up at a full smiling moon, so enchanting,
The moon now stood out, within an onyx darkening
Sky and the stars glittered like diamonds, silvery, shining,
The full moon shone upon the indigo-colored waves churning,
The horizon dark, the white horses vanilla white, glowing,
The ocean was alive and active, fish jumping and playing
The tide began coming in, so I stood up, a shooting
Star traversed the night sky, what a beautiful ending
To a glorious day by the sea and a night worth applauding.
I quickened my pace and reached my car, repeating
In my mind the happenings and images of the day, composing
Them into a so-called song, wish I could sing, and tell how rewarding
A memory like today recorded in musical song, would be deserving,
I can hear the roaring in sea off the coast of Null with big boats engine penetrating the deep and the loud chatter of the fishermen in in the middle of the ocean screaming and shouting as they pull in their nets with hundreds of big trout trying to break out.
Thats the biggest catch they have made all week and so the joyous celebration on board went on for about an hour drinking vodka and eating snail before they made their way back to the shore.
There is a splendid magic in the sea and you have to search high and low to find it, the fish will take you there and you must find it and released it before the end of the year.
Oh precious watery sea you lie there with your open bosom looking at thee, your slippery body spreads out on the ocean floor, waiting for the mullet to play hide and seek under the reef and swim with you back to the shore.
You have exposed yourself to the fish monsters prowling around in the sea, and they have the perfect recipes selected for thee, see the Viking boat over there, you have nothing to fear they have lived in the water for centuries and they know everything about depth of the ocean. The ships are way out yonder so move your boats to the other side.
The waves are beating on the rocks trying to pull you back into the sea. The sea gulls are everywhere ,on the shore and flying in the air, the sun is beckoning you to come because the entire village is on the run. They have broken village door and everything is washed out on the shore.
The sea gulls are getting ready for a meeting see them landing on the shore and greeting one another at the door, the tide is riding high, tension is decreasing and ships are entering the shore.The sea and the sun will meet and sign the final decrees to settle your heart beat.
Ribbons and bows, tied to the flames,
dance in winter like reindeer games.
Scarlet reds and emerald greens
paint false pravado of Christmas scenes.
Silver and gold lay out like riches
and children tell tales like little snitches.
The good list becomes short and thin-nish
while the naughty list is never finished.
Jolly men sobered in flamboyant big red suits
ring the bells to hearts more closed and mute.
In the shadows the cash registers ring loud
rising screams and shouts above the gathering crowds.
On the floor, I knelt a moment, picking up the pieces
of ribbons and bows as joy began decreasing.
The season's wonder slips away without thinking
breathe, celebrate or a grinch heart will be shrinking.
Temporary nirvana (albeit elusive),
nonetheless I strive to access
attaining bliss mine soul bless
exceeding exhilaration winning
(with fewest moves against
deadly opponent) bittersweet game,
where life analogous playing chess
mortality embraced hesitantly, I confess
gnarled, knotted, pitted... old fingers
wrinkled mottled flesh doth dress
unavoidable senescence
upon body politic mortality doth express,
though severely myopic,
yours truly eyewitness
self positing query,
asper meaning of life
oft times rhetorical question fathomless
lacking satisfactory resonance,
this mind strives to second guess
time spent probing haphazardness,
asper gaining insightful purposefulness...
coalesces, sans clarity when idleness
experiences Zen, albeit approximately
inducing light trance smooths jaggedness
inviting mindfulness, lucidness, keenness...
absolute zero distraction eases lamentableness
assuaging, deepening, massaging
psychological state with limitless
ascendence toward manageableness
decreasing mental din and clangor
allowing, enabling, providing...
cerebral nearsightedness
to escape into temporary nothingness,
a foretaste of eternal obliviousness
free from preponderant woes,
incessant sweaty palms, a painless
dimension unfeeling unimaginable quietness
impossible to envision raptness,
when death be not proud reiterates stillness
silencing roiling tempestuousness!
soft
dew drops
quivering
on lotus leaves
lithe jui flowers sprawled
white orange-hued buds
clouds glide tangerine sky
koels croon symphony
mehndi bushes
faint fragrant
birds soar
free
Written on August 9, 2021
Note: Experimented with this descriptive verse of two stanzas - starts with one word, one syllable - goes up to six lines with six syllables (increasing syllables). Second stanza vice versa - begins with six, and it ends with one word, one syllable (decreasing).
FIRST PLACE
A Brian Strand 1 to 14 lines Poetry contest
Something beside me Darkness mirrors something's engulfing me a barrage of vision across the path split in half shines the Drone
Shadows
The light the Stars the Moon and the Sun above me Casting the non beauty celebrated light 3/4 around transition. Casting about the dark and on the ground stands beside me shadows being Gray turn to black where am I and why is it always by my back. Side to side depleted of light.
There's a still small soft voice twinkling the screams of humanity decreasing and through the Chaos Control walls and abundant sounds screams round and round it doesn't come there for us already here the twinkle sounds of the barrage faint spoken words the cooing the newborn babe shallow verse...shhh! It is near no it's here. Can't you feel it ?hear what? The willow breath, hear the faint, silence breath screaming cease Bocuse crest from the outer to inner ear Spears sounds of
Whispers
I fell into the Blackness into the hole of Darkness internet Venture data thralls me the faint voice that calls me and yet I am surprised by the Shadows I am enlightened and startled by The Whispers but the man yelling and my suppression and in my depression I am depleted of a logic of the reason of my mind Flint wind I do find that I am started I'll be holding how long have I blast it I am in all what's on my knees I get up I stand I want away from my crawl I Am starter an enchantment I am the lightest by my containment Landing in adventure of my mind is reality the Syfy and I am grasping that's why I ...
Gasp
Intuit?
I
Submit to
Shadows
Whispers
Gasp
5/2/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
My Missing Muse
I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.
My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.
Lately I lack poetic thought, thus I’m feeling quite distraught.
Maybe new themes will come to mind, if I read some antique poems of mine.
I have written about nature,
birds like ducks,
a child’s marker freckles,
a coffee cup.
A retired boat resting on the shore,
dirty socks behind a door.
I’ve penned 2 poems about Monet and VanGogh.
Now Degas? I don’t know.
Lady Di who danced in her royal gown,
but sadly now listens to angel sounds.
Her love for people was always increasing, but my poetic thoughts,now decreasing.
A teapot and a tuffet, diddle diddle dee.
A sweet little bundle came to me.
Blueberries grow on a bush not a tree!
Still no ideas will come to me.
Two tired tulips on my windowsill doze.
Three ladybugs on a daffodil pose.
Now is the time I need to compose!
A chorus frog’s peeping has a dancing beat,
clicking,
croaking,
repeat.
Jumping rope in heels, the teacher who tried her best.
Feathered fledglings sleeping in a Blue Egg mommy’s nest.
There is a wee granny in my apple tree.
Bring your appetite, then you’ll see!
Trees dressed in acorns
Protect our seas
Echoing owls between forest trees.
No new ideas coming into my head ?
My muse is hiding, I dread.
Cronkite,a reporting wiz,
closed the news, “That’s the way it is”
An unbiased journalist one could trust.
Integrity, sincerity and principles, a must.
TV shows,
Winter fairies on tiptoes.
Still I have the blank slate woes!
A path of moonlight, dragonflies.
Slowly summer says goodbye.
Soon the southern birds will fly.
Smell the season sunshine.
Crowds that cheer, “Alley Oop”
As basketballs find their longed for hoops.
Aunt Gloria was warm in her Irish blue.
Little boy Benjamin lost his little shoe!
His sister found it, "PEE U”
“Hooray” I cheer. Now it seems more clear, I feel my blank slate might disappear.
I’m suddenly feeling passion for more creative action!
Imagination,inspiration,determination!
My mental blankness is washing away.
New topics to write about, coming into play.
Now upside down silly fun.
To the writing teeter totter Marikate, have fun!
Time is boundless when you're young.
You want school days to fly
so in summer you'll be sprung
loose upon the world. Touch sky,
Butterfly! Vitality is yours; songs unsung
will surely come by and by.
One day you go away,
leave home, friends; finally. . . Youth.
Some tread steadily; others stray
from convention's pathway, and truth
unfolds to you its grey.
Life quickens its pace.
You'll stumble or run
or walk with grace
beneath a waning sun.
Midway a rut
confronts you. . . Worse,
an unexpected cut.
Those surviving
keep arriving
spent.
This is one PD will never have seen for her contest. It is a form that requires six parts, and the form is not listed at Soup. Stanza one uses six lines with six words per line (not syllables, but words). STanza 2 is a five-line stanza with five words per line. You continue in this way decreasing lines and number of words in the lines until you arrive at a single one-word line in the bottom stanza! Maybe I will try this form one day in a contest!! (I rhymed this, but it does not have to be rhymed)
I am here
In a different time and place
In which tears of joy of one
Unfolds the tears of discrimination of another
Such a cruel and beautiful place
This world can be
Such happiness and melancholy
It can cause
To trade the laughter of a hundreds
With the wretchedness of one
Is such an unpardonable sin
Where love is such a misguided emotion
And jokes just become an exotic offence
And people no longer go by the principle of respect
Where habits and manners become the past tense of an old lifetime
Where everyone says such things as
“No one loves you”
Where every low- life disrespects an ordinary
Where people who cry and weep
Are the people that speak of fact?
And people that are strong and rarely do they weep
Are the bad?
Nonsense after Nonsense
Sanity Losing Sanity
World decreasing in faith
Word becomes worthless
And I sit here
And I am to blamed
Of things that do not cause any shame
I am here, sitting and receiving offences
Of people who their duty is to love? To care?
Such an ironic place this world has become
Such a spell of loathing is cast upon us
And we, who fight are in this spell
To be condemned