Long Descried Poems
Long Descried Poems. Below are the most popular long Descried by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Descried poems by poem length and keyword.
~ No Soul Descried ~
He sauntered out and rubbed his eyes
No soul descried, left or right
Were all the rumors true, not lies?
Mid-day the hour, not dark midnight
He scratched his head, pressed on downtown
There, windows boarded, sealed up tight
Deserted sidewalks, void of sound
Most all stores shuttered, dark their lights
Now stares at him a frightful sight
Two heads, four eyes; test-tube, thin frame
His ray gun gleaming -- Awful plight!
The human prays, his life fair game
"Am I alone? Last man alive?"
God paused and smiled: "Hand-picked ~ Survive!"
Iambic Tetrameter
I was gently awakened by euphonic cooing
of mated doves perched on aspen branches
whose golden leaves rustled sweet silver songs
I rushed to open my wooden dormer window
and hum a greeting to their soft morning trills
With hands splayed on the ancient stone sill
my face welcomed the sun's auroral warmth
I felt the chill of Autumn's breath biting the air
and exhaled in contented sighs of appreciation
for the stunning beauty of this mountain valley
To paint nature's colors without dreary compromise
would require a far greater artistic hand than mine
While gazing from my cabin's primitive casement
I descried a canvas stippled in blazing pastoral hues
framed by the rustic charm of my bedroom window
when she came to us
She spoke very less
Unlike other maid
She was silent
Brows-up seems -
Filled with self respect
My mom tried many ways
To hear her
Atleast once a day
"In her past lives
She might be a princess" -
My mom guesstimate.
Slowly & Slowly as time flies
We heard her voice
Descried her lovely smiles.
She told my mom -
"her spouse left her alone
With one daughter & one son"
I know, it sounds painful
But believe me, very common in slums.
But...
She is an angel
An Angel for my home
An Angel for my mother
An Angel without wings
An Angel without feathers.
She was absent
From last three days
We were tensed
What might be happened?
Finally we came to know -
Heart-rending episode-
At one Black Night
She drank forcefully
By someone, unknown
She was found in the next noon
At the corner of road, laid down
Unconscious and undressed
Undoubtedly she was raped
But who cares?
Her family & neighbours are silent
As nothing happened
'cause it's not new there
Victim may change
But that Black Night
Repeats at very short interval
I know, it sounds painful
But believe me, very common in slum.
Today she came again
Started working in my home
Her smiles & voice vanished
In a box - closed & locked.
Brows-down & silent again
Seems - lost somewhere
In the forest of unshared pain.
Yet she came to help my mother
Now, I am damn sure
She has been sent from heaven
An Angel for my mumm
An Angel from the slum
From Heaven to live in the Hell
She is an Angel
An ANGEL from the HELL
13 March 2018
Poetry contest -Quick Fire Rapid Rhyme
Sponsored by -Brenda Chiri
The past sneers at me
Breaking open bottled up memories-
Of years of aimless wanderings,
Of days spent in unbridled passion,
The smell of cigarettes, ganja and beer
Wine and women, bet and gambling,
And the thrill of having won and lost !
Like the prodigal son, walked away from home,
Leaving behind kith and kin
Rambled through the murky corridors of life,
In search of pleasure, riches and fame
Once when I walked with stilted gait
Surrounded by friends and fans,
Amid laughter and haste
Eager to please and to praise,
Never, I knew this wouldn’t last!
Inebriated and effervescent were we
Went to ball and ballets
Fancied money could buy all we yearned
And turn this Earth-a virtual Paradise
But how swift was the twist of fate!
With no condiments,
Life suddenly turned bland.
The gorgeous castles I once built,
Burnt down to cinders like dry leaves
Blown away by the wind
Friends, I thought never would desert,
Flitted away one by one!
Now I discern, I am alone
With none to hold my hand
Or share the burden
With just my mournful shadow
Tottering along to keep me company
Having descried the truth
I should no more battle with dark shadows
Or get lost in the labyrinthine paths
I must get out into the light
I shall retrace my steps, back I will go
Embrace the safety of my home
And leave my heartache and sobs behind
Oh, I am not lost as my eyes are now open!
Placed Second
Pick- A –Title Vol.27 Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
A dedication by Joe:
In one minute of expression!
In the hour of an age;
I saw the fruit of inspiration
A largesse from heaven’s mage.
So I reached out to its fire
My heart big as blue sky
Just a soul tugged by awareness;
such elucidation I’d descried.
These words could melt in my essence!
The very being of my breath….
I sensed delight could dance between us
true life rejoice o’er mortal death.
Maverick © 4/5/2012
Form: Celestial Verse
The Maverick
Dedication by Michelle:
Within silent chambers of darkened grottos
wandered displaced, my weary muse.
Until he jumped forth from a page of notion
this steadfast man of no recues.
Blue flames did stoke declining embers,
he gave the spark to matchstick thought.
Within a fiery blaze of blessed insight
his verse and rhyme my spirit caught.
.
Idle minds can’t spin on moving axis
though cognitive fire will sing and dance
Guided by captivating poetic precinct
I affably admire his erudite stance.
© Joe Maverick.co.uk and
© Michelle Mac Donald. Canada Inc
24/05/2012
I descried a ghostlike glimpse,
of steel breath on blunt mirror,
as my taut brain mulled scars,
from fractal bleak life motif,
zooming over skewed glass,
reflections glum and forlorn,
black ink eye ring capture,
shadow, shade, or shield,
brittle convex, abject cog,
whoa, my frail image riven
Buoyant pneuma projects,
stuck on screen mimicry,
impact ray remedial dent,
on jumpy jitter edge twin,
shaft between rotated a plus,
my geometric bent wavelength,
mere focal countenance,
epoch elapsed pier gaper,
morphing current field of view,
behind hollow sphere’s mask
Silver, aluminium, gold metal,
counterpart to my snapback,
curved aspect to visual plane,
optical illusion now infinite,
refurbish bone-weary scraps,
as sinistral dextral frontispiece,
august neck crane of aperture,
green speck tunnel sighting,
a trick of the light axial ploy,
prism dispersing faux rainbow
Jagged shard bias plummet,
obsidian or shinning copper,
glint and glare bounce factor,
mirror varnish vandalised,
leafy quatrefoil resemblance,
harsh hallucinating peep,
stiff lens on prior passage,
when aghast, shrill alarm,
might re-echo or resonate,
with latent shock imprint
Acoustic wobbled surface,
noise returns sunny splatter,
merriment exuberant audible,
etched in sonic brush strokes,
interstitial dual facade,
splits a gleam diffuse,
watch my smirk refract,
is that mirror cracked?
off its alloy succour,
stone hearted crop
Rent beads amass,
one shrunken clone,
me in smithereens,
asides a plethora,
fraught mien on exhibit
A Parody of Sir Philip Sidney's Sonnet 31 from Astrophel and Stella
With wobbly steps, O Youth, thou climb'st the stairs!
How clumsily and with how red a face!
What! Dost thou trip and fall about the place
and pray thy folks sleep soundly, unawares?
Perhaps thy little brother who now sees
thee fall can be persuaded not to race
and broadcast to the house thy plunge from grace.
Thou could'st bribe him with money and say "PLEASE!"
Whil'st thou cling to the handrail, bleary-eyed,
now in thy shameful state, O Youth, pray tell
are friends thou partied with, like thee, unwell—
in fear, lest their condition be descried?
Those youth who guzzle beer in lieu of milk
will bring ignominy on all their ilk.
May 9, 2015
These trembling lips cannot bear to remain mute
when their quivering begins in my deepest root
Surf upon the wave's crest of a stimulating ride,
Enter my secluded orchard upon a flowing tide
Saunter into my arbor and taste my honeyed fruit
Allow each nibble to entice with unbridled pursuit
Warm yourself in the sun as we sensually collide
Ripen with me until temptation is languidly descried
Inhale the fragrance of my skin on fleshly curves
Embrace the throbbing titillation of tingling nerves
Unshackle your heart, and have it not be denied
Caress every part of me as your fingertips glide
Hold my blossoms as they call to your heartstrings
Drink deeply of my nectar; flit your pinioned wings
Pluck me for your pleasure, with hands that shake
I await your touch; to relieve my heart of its ache
Let us roll together on the cobbled floors of
Europe and pick up, in our greedy search,
Every fallen crisp and old blade of ancient grass.
Good old restless fleas must not peck at them
Or resume haunting the spectres that follow
Them season after season.
And it must be on a Sunday —post
Sunday school—after the church bell has rung twice;
After the spell of the visiting thaumaturge on the village
Has followed the blight of the late rains of a
Second-rate April.
The scent of the market is heavy with spinning films,
Thus rolling the eyes from streets to canals,
Increasingly stunning the breaths of tipplers
Breathing with the rage of manhattans.
A scalding winter shrouds the open intimacy between fogs
And brumes, made sweet with a hootenanny.
The music is loud but soft, and weakens the restiveness of
A new week bound for ceaseless waves of inked drama.
I hasten to the old secretaire I had descried from the
Buried haunt of writers and scribes — men of quill pen.
Its blend of age, the aroma of cellared wines, and the
Blessedness of regal oak has made my day. . .
Oh, sorry, my Sunday.
“Happy Sunday to one and all!” I cry,
Reaching out to the grandmother pouch of time-bleached leather
Around my dancing waist.
And I shall proceed to buy it with European farthings and African
Cowrie shells, and manillas adorned with loud-campaigning verdigris.
~ My Faith ~
(Set deep in New England woods
of days long gone by)...
The forest held me in her spell
Enchanting visions 'round yon dell
Amidst the silence, peals of bells
'Twas then descried a carousel
Its stallions seemed to fly right by
They flared their nostrils, gave a cry
I shook with fear; I don't know why
Looked up to view a blackened sky...
All light snuffed out; the end seemed nigh
My heart's blood cold, prepared to die
I clung to Faith, yet asked God why
Then bowed my head for God's reply --
Dark spirits grabbed ahold of Faith
I could not see aught but her Wraith