Long Deserted Poems
Long Deserted Poems. Below are the most popular long Deserted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deserted poems by poem length and keyword.
i travel barefoot on the hot sands
of a deserted mind
a plane of shallow dunes that tower above the distance
lost in the equivocate of direction
the blaze in the sky exposing the void between my eyes
each step forward staggered and hesitant
regret scorched soles aching for direction
to the score of my soul’s pleas for supplication
i thrust my palms to the heavens begging for an audience with God
“guide me, open the door to your mercy to a weakened heart”
there is a shift in tablature
springs of honey, water and oil
emerge from the barren earth
bringing bouts of life in bounty
ranges of juniper slopes cluster the horizon
colour spreading vast beyond my step
ever sweet is the restored air
Do as I say not as I do
Made muddy mistakes you don’t want to
Watch player past
Make green money fast
Life a black flash
Not for sale dad
Trying to be strong
Walking licorice line
Doing red rights white wrongs
Paint purple tribe
Emerald era for you
Caramel kids choice
Tears chilly blue
Don’t fill the void
So I’m your boy
Was Tom-Boy as teen
Grew jaded joy
Your voice your dreams
You wrote me songs
Fuchsia future plans
You made me own
Who I really AM
Do as I say not as I do
Made muddy mistakes you don’t want to
You made me smile
You made me wild
You made me fierce
I made you proud
Daddies aren’t perfect
Words be peach prayers
Gladly deserted
No hazel hate no denim despair
You taught me well
Hands that feed bite
You gave me flare
Gonna be free as a bird my life
Some daddies live
Some daddies die
Some daddies give
Some daddies don’t try
You were not simple
Smoky sinners are not
Rosy smile and dimple
Still a black star
Father’s Day is crazy
I never visit your grave
Not that I’m shady
You taught me to shoot straight
I visit your warm spirit
In my every good deed done
I defy lemon lyric
Of a molesting father-son
I am not hungry
You fed me gold hope
I am not running
From all those silver goals
You told me once
“I work beg borrow steal for you”
So like a good one
I will do all RIGHT by you
How beautiful and infinite is His Universe,
small gleaming stars in a restless, frantic dance;
while moonlight softly shimmers with a silver glow!
Good angels do not hide, they are always present;
hear their fluttering wings announce a blessed event;
why fear darkness and silence, if they are close by?
Be their friend and ask them to come along,
they will certainly listen and join you in song;
God will smile seeing such a harmonic union!
On deserted paths illuminated by moonbeams,
you'll be as safe as in daylight under big trees;
no owl frightens anyone with a happy coo!
A hidden beauty can also be seen at night,
watch luminous fireflies and stars blend to delight;
He had a definite purpose for everything!
Some never stare at the Heavens, they're ungrateful...
they deny the existence of the Eternal;
I exult Him with songs and thoughts of gratefulness!
How beautiful and Infinite is His universe,
so opulently it shows its awesome brilliance;
look at stars, find joy in them...praise God evermore!
In an ol’ deserted village in the wild wild west
Stood only the wreckage of flattened log cabins
Where a young cowboy came to take some rest
As the sinkin’ sun tinged his silken cinnamon skin.
His dark tan horse stood still amidst the settlin’ dust
Through which approached a riding rancher rough
For the cute cowgirl to satisfy his licentious lust
So the enraged cowboy forced for a duel in a huff.
At the edge of the dry prairie in the gleam of twilight
The two confronted each other, both duly thinkin’
“I’m gonna win for her this formidable fight”
But the cowboy knew how to act as fast as lightnin’.
From his hand flew in a flash the shot like thunderbolt
Found the surprised target in the blink of the eye
As he delivered instant death from the revolvin’ colt
That was the way the guy of the ranch chose to die.
January 30, 2021
Contest : Cowboy Poetry
Sponsor : Line Gauthier
We strolled along deserted lanes
lined by straggly rubble walls,
adorned by yellow cowslips,
perfumed with early wild narcissus,
and music, a fine harmony,
performed by finches of all colours
Whilst blue **** and sparrow fly from tree to tree.
I lingered there, hoping I could get away
from the fathomless worries of the weary world,
or perhaps find rest in an eternal quietude.
We walked hand in hand, listening to the rill
Its clear waters zigzagging downwards.
She stared at the rivulet with wonderment.
I admired her composure, her interest
In all around her, a stoic tranquillity.
I invited her to sit besides me on a wooden bench.
Enjoy the vast silent panorama of the countryside.
No other human could be seen in the vicinity
Except far off, a farmer tilled his field.
She put her head against my shoulder.
We uttered not one word. It was pure bliss.
I realized love can be silent,
For utter silence is true love.
Last tendered lifeline sought as battered psyche under your bellowing wave rips
Final act of penance remitted from bleeding, parched lips
Hemorrhaging from bandaged sorrows that only strerile soul doth eclipse
A hollow stare from deserted strand harboring the wreckage of two, desolate ships
Posture now callous bearing the scars of your shallow, superficial preening grips
Disheveled hair, limp dividend declaring inferior complex that from each emotive strand drips
Pale, drawn face; vessel sunken from draining sinkholes as our relationship dips
Pensive smile revealing the fault line of each strained shock as chasm deeper slips
Shuttering ears filtering out the rehearsed, rhapsodic notes of your telepathic scripts
Token, parting gesture from arrhythmic heart erasing each beat as your radar blips
I felt it not though the chilly wind blew hard,
How could I feel cold in that deserted graveyard?
The cypress trees were sturdy and tall
Incredible the evergreen did not bend at all.
How could I feel cold in that deserted graveyard?
The tombs were covered with spent leaves,
Incredible the evergreen did not bend at all
No one around, only a robin grieved.
The tombs were covered with spent leaves,
I was a fool not to mark my resting place.
No one around, only a robin grieved.
Shouldn’t there be a picture that showed my face?
I was a fool not to mark my resting place.
I wandered lonely, tombs here and there, no prayers said
Shouldn’t there be a picture that showed my face?
Till I found my resting place, my body completely dead.
I wandered lonely, tombs here and there, no prayers said
The cypress trees were sturdy and tall
Till I found my resting place, my body completely dead.
I felt it not though the chilly wind blew hard,
The sky was orange, red and peach
we strolled towards each other
on a deserted pebbled beach
a smile that got us talking
together slowly walking
till twilight crept unseen
then off reluctantly
on a deserted pebbled beach
we went our separate ways
but first a promise made
next day to meet in the same place.
The sky now yellow, mauve and blue
I stroll alone by water's edge
on a deserted pebbled beach
searching for a voice
a smile just out of reach
your presence unseen
where the surf briefly meets
the shore, only to recede
two souls forever out of reach
on a deserted pebbled beach
where a promise was made
and would break along the waves
was love not meant to grow?
we will never know....
A collaboration by Paul Callus & Kelly Deschler
Infection Sublime
by Odin Roark
with his lone return
on this New York street
in middy’s humid heat
he did see shutters closed
behind antique glass
whose reflection reminded
he wasn’t born there
only grew up in the embrace
of a brownstone haven
the oldness
now new
restoration hipster style
closing his eyes
he remembered
battered front door
yapping terrier just inside
forever on guard for landlady safety
the nightly dash
up dark stairs to the 3rd floor
evading the heel-nipping
four-legged devil incarnate
opening his eyes
blazing sun reflected back
like a searing message
“isn’t it time to move on?”
he sensed the warning
but no one appeared
no one stared from behind
invisible lace curtains
there was no one
sidewalk bare
street deserted
not even the ubiquitous taxi horns
no
he was alone
in Manhattan’s summer heat
the kind of thermal suffocation
forcing the discomfort of false memories
the kind he didn’t need
when melancholy’s purity
would always walk beside him
such was the newly sterilized street
the occupants unaware
how sublime yesteryear’s infection
In the diaphanous sapphire night,
the drizzling dust of descending moonbeam
adorned the pearl-laced waves of the rolling sea,
where I sauntered in the desolate corridor of mind,
following the footsteps of the elusive muse.
The rain-washed sparkling seamless sky
spread the spectrum of my diamond dreams,
weaved with chromatic charisma of rainbow ribbons,
arching over the halcyon horizon that beckoned me,
where I discovered my innate imagination flourish.
In stalled times wafting the miasma of despair,
I turned the emotion into lyrics of creative craving.
On its fantasy wings in the resonating rhapsodic air
to the boundless realm of exaltation, I flew free beguiled,
when life-cherishing vigor of vision made me a poet.
I breathe poetry of ebullient emotion, the designer of dreams,
search for the sublime sense of frosted feelings,
as they mingle totally with my twilight time,
my mind merges with sensual obscurity with impulses ingrained.
The crystal path I pave to the realm of retreat
along the contorted contours of deserted desire.
There the roses bloom amidst the spiculed cactus,
within the entrained imagination,
take me with the migrating mirage to the oasis of reverie,
where the structure of desolation is dismantled.
From the verdant splendor sprouts the foliage of fervor,
the canopy cast colors of the new sapphire sky
on the canvas of the poet’s absorbent heart.
As the twilight sequesters sonorous silence in the static time,
the poetry of life flows under the star-studded sky
with the fluidized passion serenely sequined.
The mesmeric moonbeam sprinkles silver dust,
my muse wafts in dreams with the tinsels of longing,
across the rhyming mesmerized landscape,
flies in your firmament on the wings of lyrical zephyr,
entrancing me with the rhythm of reminiscence,
that enthuses me to write the poem for you.