Long Delicate Poems
Long Delicate Poems. Below are the most popular long Delicate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Delicate poems by poem length and keyword.
My hands, too small to grasp a dream in its gentle flight,
Yet too large to capture their attention, to hold them in their delicate thread.
What am I, if not art, just a simple presence without contour,
Perhaps just the frame that surrounds a story, without a murmur of its own?
In the flow of my thoughts, I wonder who I truly am,
If perhaps I've only been a frame, a space too wide, too flat.
My hands cannot keep the magic of the dream that unravels easily,
Nor capture the gazes that fly like birds without flight.
I wonder what remains of me when everything disappears like mist,
Just an echo of unfulfilled dreams, a shadow that clings to my life.
But perhaps the frame has its own beauty, in its subtle silence,
Like a silent witness to art, giving it form, but never speaking out.
Thus, I continue to weave my thoughts in this inner labyrinth,
Searching for meaning, a light, a fragment of the dream I long for.
And even when my hands seem powerless in the face of destiny,
I remain a part of the story, a necessary outline of the mystery.
Caveman preps for dating female mates
As he puts on fresh skins and pelts
Caught that day since everything was free
Oil from animal musk still ooze from pores
(To allure the delicate gender favors)
Killing prey is not exactly PETA friendly
ASPCA might have something to say
Millions of years hence so not to worry
Cave men speak Ugh which is short for ugly
He is going clubbing with his handy stick
Nowhere near Fifth Avenue I'm sure
A not so delicate creature blinks at him
Smiles from the bush with perceived approval
One bonk on the head is all it takes
He drags her by the dirty knotted hair
Back to his cave to live forever more
As husband and wife in ancient splendor
Life was simpler back then
When a few notes can't complete a melody,
her long delicate fingers will rest on the silent piano as Mozart did...
until inspiration comes from an outside source such as happy warblers;
her vacant and perplexed look pierces serenity
as sun rays cut through clouds to nurture flowers;
isn't her dream to set those words to music to fulfill someone's will?
Perhaps that poet was her lover who dedicated her verses,
and remembering them she must create from seven notes
something memorable to honor a memory that Mankind forgot,
and his greatness will once again emerge from the black ashes;
then write, beautiful player, the new melody to cure a mourning heart...
let tears flow to release pain, let music vindicate unsought loneliness!
If I had lived in your time, much consolation I would have brought and not
made you look away to increase your undeserved and endless grieving;
and while hearing what you had written with compassion and feeling,
an embrace I would have offered to ensue understanding and comfort!
The heart is an amazing organ…without it we wouldn’t exist
which is crazy when you realize it’s only the size of our fist!
Four weeks after conception…well before we officially arrive
it begins to beat and does not stop until we’re no longer alive.
The heart has a magical capacity for love...as everybody knows.
The more it loves and is loved the stronger that it grows.
Our brain is used for knowledge but its our heart that guides the way?
In fact, the heart is so important…it has its own holiday?
Valentine’s Day is a day that has set itself apart
as the only holiday we have that celebrates the heart.
A heart that nurtures us while dancing an energetic but delicate ballet
a heart that must be treated with kindness not just today…but every day
Because the heart provides a daily a lesson for all of us to see
that even though it is strong and sturdy…it can be broken easily.
I think a fitting epitaph for any of us when we depart
would be that we were gentle with other people’s hearts.
So be gentle with each other’s heart today, celebrate with candy, flowers or a kiss
and keep in mind this whole thing started with an organ no bigger than your fist.
Crash! Bang! Poof! The angry leaves assault my roof
My canine friend turns end to end, and cries out with a woof
I grab my rake and take a break, enjoying autumn's show
No haste to battle Zephyr's breath, with such a fine tableau
Then a pause and silence falls, and time slows to a crawl
Molecules of red and gold in fractal loops enthrall
Leafy fingers stroke my brow, a delicate caress
Cares and worries leave my mind and harried thoughts regress
A second seems forever as I'm lost in reverie
A timeless crystal moment of deep serenity
Then I stir, my eyes unblur and I roll up my sleeves
I put my mind in focus, and begin to rake the leaves
Madly in love
with a turbulent world
in a swirling wayward bloom,
till I froze, swept by your comely face.
So, the dreams I once doted on!
Beauty bubbles in your presence,
blurred in my prime by a mirage,
a blinding illusion. Who cares?
Who dares steer off the broad way,
pull over and trace the virgin country
where nature nurtures beauty.
Pure as a lily, you ray like a rose;
and nod, a poppy in a delicate breeze.
Blinking dew, you wake with the sun,
splashing the canvas with seven colors.
A glow at crown of noon, you smile
like setting sun at the border,
clothing clouds in gold. Stars wink
their joy; the moon steps out in style.
Who wouldn't celebrate your beauty?
Even the blind, the deaf, and the dumb;
they see, hear, and shout your comeliness:
a germ tucked away from passing peep
until heart locks onto heart.
Now I dream your beauty in others.
Even in the filthy frenetic world,
love gleams on faces racing down
the superhighway hoping to meet
with you in the jam.
© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Fragments of forgotten dreams
Where air hums with nostalgia
And dusk a quiet sliver of silver
Across the breath of autumn
My ear listens to a shell
The sea might return my embrace
The waves repeat what I cannot embrace
Memory's rhythm stitching into dreams
Waves whisper inside the shell
A language of longing and nostalgia
Seasoned deep with autumn
Pale and worn as silver
Moonlight drifts over the silver
The night a yielding embrace
All fades and settles into autumn
The shoreline threaded with dreams
Each step layers of nostalgia
Like echoes in the shell
Time curls a delicate shell
Holding something silver
Breathing out quiet nostalgia
The spaces we no longer embrace
I return, compelled by dreams
Like leaves of autumn
The wind recites of autumn
Through chambers of the shell
I am carried into dreams
Loss is burnished into silver
Absence feels like an embrace
Softening sorrow into nostalgia
I linger in nostalgia
Tracing the decay of late autumn
Looking for what remains to embrace
In the fragile spiral of a shell
Its surface glimmering with silver
That leads me through dreams
The shell cradles dreams and nostalgia
Its silver silence echos autumn
I learn again to embrace
HAIKU GLIMPSES #2
I see you
Resolute as ever;
After my own heart
~~~~~~~~~
Face well-sculptured
Time tells tales;
Poignant story
~~~~~~~~~
Dry June humidity
Sunscreen helps;
Hot as Hell
~~~~~~~~~
Durian season
Pungent gastronomy;
Aromatic digest
~~~~~~~~~
Words on rice paper
Delicate strokes;
Ancient soliloquy
~~~~~~~~~
Finesse styles
Picture calligraphy;
Foreign nuance
~~~~~~~~~
Coming home baby
To familiar notes;
What's new pussycat?
~~~~~~~~~
Love unfurls
Passionate blueprints;
Vacation thoughts
~~~~~~~~~
Myriad movements match
Stormy stirrings surge;
Timely troubles treat
~~~~~~~~~
In fond glances
Love steals sensations;
Haiku glimpses
~~~~~~~~~
This old man
Never played one;
Now he's gone
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
25 June 2015
Singapore
Fragile
She seems so fragile.
I imgaine you with her, touching her gently,
as she lets her slender fingers linger on your skin -
those fingers with the long polished nails
she must spend hours on each week to maintain so perfectly.
Her face, her body and her hair are smooth - so smooth and beautiful.
How delicate her features.
She’s a china doll with a tiny waist that would fit so easily in a man’s embrace -
that type of girl I suppose appears in most men’s fantasies.
I see her at my workplace, sitting so demurely,
giggling softly when she takes your phone calls.
You call her often, and I know why.
She demands so much attention
from every man I’ve seen her get involved with.
I’ve also seen her eyes well up with tears
when the boss not too severely reprimands her.
Yes, she’s the epitome of fragility.
I, on the other hand, am not a tiny helpless china doll.
I am average sized, cheerful and robust,
and I cry too, just not so easily.
My nails are not long, but otherwise, I take care of myself.
I’m feminine though not a china doll.
Delicate is not a word that would enter someone’s mind to describe me
except perhaps in the way I use my voice, for I am tactful.
Personable, practical, sincere and steady are other words
I hope would spring to someone’s mind if they should describe me.
I overhear my lovely workmate’s conversations,
for her desk is right near mine.
Needy is another word that very much describes her.
It seems to be the major attribute of this helpless-acting clinging vine.
Often I daydream of you and me together, and in that dream,
it’s I whom you caress so softly as I let my fingers linger on your skin.
Then passion overtakes us, and I become something wild,
not in the least bit fragile. I’m a woman, and my desires are strong.
I always say hello the times you come to see your china doll.
I also smile at you. Can you read the want inside my eyes?
Lately I’ve been noticing the days you come to pick her up,
how more quickly your smiling eyes are meeting mine. . . .
I bide my time.
Written Oct. 17, 2017 for John Hamilton's "Fragile" Poetry Contest
Wind
~~~~
Gentle wind's~~~~ delicate fingers
Sensually caress... blushing leaves
the arctic blast~~ with frozen icicles
freeze the leaf's tender marrow
the reign of deadly cold---
summer winds~~~~ hot fire
dries and curls the leaf's soft life
perish to the ground
warm spring wind~~~~~ blows
revives the parched dying leaf
glory has returned
By Tahera Mannan
For Constance "Nature Four In One" Contest