Long Dried Poems
Long Dried Poems. Below are the most popular long Dried by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dried poems by poem length and keyword.
Glass shattered Saturday afternoon tea for S I L E N C E
holding steady raven momentum for its own r i p p i n g
fire from heartbeat slashes its void to tumble wounds of
wisdom weeping slow dirty tears of biting burns inserting
into wordless flesh of waiting before window panes were
smashed with stone docile ornaments, rampant afternoon
unvoiced holding a blank white canvas for dripping
bookshelves tumbled, poems torn to sheds, laundry strewn
with glass splinters as lead, aphonics slithering into dried out
stewpot waiting for maniacal tsunami to cremate emotions
tweezer them from dna soiled in possessive prisons ridiculed
Divinity spoke in all pervasive silence on testing timeline taut
holding breath to His nostrils imbibing a billion frequencies
I chose to brave open His serene lips for unutterable L O V E
lashes He crafted brushed breathy implicits with assent
for missions of courage traversed embracing solitude
observed in stillness whilst across eerie forest moss
carpets I deciphered “They Don’t Care about Us”
hush self wears a daisy cloak from heavenly dew fields
luminosity unzips not as lies hop chaotic across
spiderwebs it can chameleon transmute into gentle
streams to soothe that which hides for right timing
~ first bud of white rose birthing delicacy or benign
waters over pebble backdrop quietude
biscuit baker feeds jealousy, deceit, shame, guilt, indecision
escapism ~ swampy keys of stagnant quagmires will too utter
her heart’s eclipsed light breaking egoic invisibility as
softly I breathe her shadowed taciturn s t e a l t h
quiet petaling garment breaks open blackout mission
regurgitating quantum memories incubated in beckoning cell
fertility for decades perhaps centuries, marching crusades of
soul conquering ancient lands, majestic mountains, raucous
seas, ports, yellow spices, when women with babes gagged
anguished longing for men to taste their honey in serenity
hot crusted bread speaking truths of labouring backs bent
cows chewing cherrywood cuds ~ what could be a more
knowing t r a n q u i l i t y ?
now wafered soundlessness is lamb yet diamond piercing
raw, a lark offers sotto tones as harmony cupped in two
musing wings to ascend where it can quintessentially
quiver, hover in expectant repose for another silent mission
What was missing in my life?
You!
I lived many years without you,
not knowing what I was missing.
One day a surprise came to us
at an unexpected late- in- life date,
it was a baby boy.
He smiled at us with blue eyes
and bald little head,
and we were complete.
I treasured the cuddly feel of you,
fitting into my arms so well,
your weight seemed just right,
to pack you around every day,
even as you grew and grew.
You added an element to my life
that had been missing.
I now learned to slow down,
stop at playgrounds, push your swing
and sit in the one next to yours,
leaning back, looking up into
the crowns of swaying trees.
Taking walks, delighting in gathering fallen
red maple leaves, watching bugs
and birds.
Frogs and crawdads appeared in our bathtub,
I emptied your pockets while doing the wash
of rocks, seashells, dried katidid shells,
sticks and marbles.
I learned that stepping on jacks
at night while going to the bathroom hurts.
On your first fishing trip you accidently hooked a duck
and cried because you thought you hurt it.
I already knew of your compassionate heart.
You and I laughed and cried watching " Free Willy,"
"The fox and the hound" and "Alladin."
You brought joy to my life.
I learned that it is exciting to watch you play soccer,
I cheered and hooted and watched from the bleechers,
while you ran your little heart out,
I watched for signs of your asthma acting up,
but luckily you seem to outrun it.
On the first Halloween you were a little
smiling pumpkin that I pushed in the stroller,
but soon you were running with your buddies,
dragging a pillow case filled with candy,
and I had to scurry to keep up with you.
On your first day of school I was nervous,
I had to leave you with strangers.
Several of us Moms were hanging around the hallway
peeping into the door's little window,
until they made us leave.
Then came field trips, help with homework,
I was "room mother" to be near you and help,
and visited you in the cafeteria at lunchtime
on "Parent's day."
Suddenly, you are taller that me!
The braces came off, and you have a summer job,
and you are very good with it, I am proud of you.
You now have a Highschool Diploma and
are getting your driver's licence,
but you will always be my little boy,
and I will love you forever.
Love, Mom
Infallible
I fall into the rain, beneath me;
My sky a glittery dust to thee,
Calling the joy I hath not met,
Thou cometh sweetly, but late.
I fall into the cold, and just me;
Only I understand the clouds,
Oh! I cannot seek that ‘tis so loud,
Too much noise, sickly around me!
Those fallen tears around my head;
The soundlessness of one’s fate,
And hark, in such quietness,
The decrepit being of hotness!
Those ragged stars about my hair;
Closing in on me, and my air,
With hues dyed in drowned sunshine,
But proud still, in its dried signs.
For such heat hath closed me;
Hath sifted me away from you.
For such guilt hath haunted me;
Hath kept me away anew.
For such a love, that thou felt;
But not yet felt again, today,
The gaze that I once beheld,
The words my heart cannot say.
Wherefore art thou, my beloved;
For t’is passion is tainted but pure,
To behold, to instill, to demure,
The meaning of this first love.
Wherefore art thou, my paint;
These poems hath not been said,
I see chaos, and not a flesh of fate,
I hath been loving in vain.
Wherefore art thou, my gaze;
Why cannot I see you through my face,
To hear such a bountiful voice,
To be about thee, in this bliss.
Wherefore art thou, my voyage;
I cannot stay this sober longer,
And hysteria, turning into sobs,
Like death, as my heart throbs.
Wherefore art thou, my colour;
Bestowed on thee my honour,
And age, with my fleeting skin,
Waiting in haste, to be seen.
Wherefore art thou, my winter;
Having too many doubts in summer,
Awaiting a lover that lasts,
By the moonlight and stardust.
Wherefore art thou, my rain;
And the sung that sings again,
To release my midnight, its pain—
To be my beloved, then.
Wherefore art thou, my kiss;
I can see your solemnity,
A thousand unsung melodies,
To bless, to make love to me;
Wherefore art thou, my art;
Too much of me is in my heart,
But none with a charm like thee,
Like the poet in fire, that in me.
Wherefore art thou, my sword;
I am bland now, and unheard,
Unheard as the rain that falls,
Amongst the sheltered walls.
Wherefore art thou, my piano;
The sound that arriveth late,
But not late to be my memento—
To remove all conscious hate.
Wherefore art thou, my word;
Improvised but reckless, my Lord,
Ah! Calm but poisonous, like me,
A fastidious silver, like thee.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
A new dawn,
Unveiled hopes and surreal ecstatic.
The smiles on their faces,
Heralded news,
The folks were delighted.
It was worth every ounce of struggle.
Though, a dilemma.
Afraid of separation.
Yet, desperate to experience the journey.
The ambience compelled me.
I was finally seen off,
I was on a voyage to satisfy nature's balance.
Now I learned the way of flying.
They had fed me once, now the tables had turned.
The man I was had been called a coward.
They celebrated my bravery now.
Decorated badges shone and made them proud.
I lost one and two things to earn it.
Was it really worth it?
The grasp of my anxiety grew.
On a bright sunny day,
I was summoned by a great war.
The fallen heroes' cries haunted me,
They never let me close my eyes.
Though I dodged death,
My mates did not.
When consciousness returned.
A stream of blood filled my sight.
Decapitated bodies, blasted arms,
Eyes bulging out of their sockets,
The fallen were the luckiest.
One who lived was burning in hell.
Men begged me to put an end to their agony.
Our eyes shed blood,
Tears dried out.
I wished to shoot my brains out too.
The nefarious haunted site was too much to bear.
"I couldn't" I cried ....
A bullet shell dropped beside me.
I had killed my own man, or had I helped him?
His heart wide opened, and my shank.
My shin mangled, my eardrums burst.
"Medic! Medic! Medic!"
A few men rushed and took me away.
I only saw them talking but heard no word.
Certainly they would cut it.
The pain fainted me right away.
A chunk of metal cost me a leg.
What would a hurt man do?
Run away to his folks.
So did I.
The smile on their faces now faded.
They hardly talked about their dream again.
Blames encompassed a loop.
Still celebrated as a hero.
The shell-shock and vivid imagery of the war,
Ran through my mind every now and then.
I never slept again.
Trapped inside a war I had never waged.
It had now changed my periphery of life.
I despised it.
The fallen were the luckiest.
I couldn't even stand on my own.
I barely opened my mouth, only to be fed.
There it hangs, my greatest achievement,
So the folks claimed.
Why did I live in guilt then?
Was it to hide my sins,
Or to make me feel proud?
The barrage of questions and bullets,
Never left my conscience.
I may have quit the war,
It still ran inside my head.
EDDIE MARS AND THE SOLAR WINDS
The biggest band in Lisburn and fronted by Eddie Mars
A guy who could play anything, on his collection of guitars
On vocals, Charlie Venus, who was the joker in the pack
He played his fender tele' through a great big marshall stack
On bass was Johnny Neptune, with his yellow platform shoes
He harmonized on vocal, a disciple of the blues
The keyboards were delivered, by Hector Mothership
He worshipped things electrical, and loved the microchip
Ray Uranus kept the beat and he wore a bowler hat
Sure only a crazy drummer, would adopt a name like that
They played all over Britain, with their rockin lunar style
They sold out gigs in Wigan, they were lauded in Millisle
Their stage show was fantastic, with a massive lighting rig
A spaceship and some planets, lit the stage at every gig
That grew a loyal fan base, as they played across the land
They lived a life of excess, just like any touring band
Success soon followed in their wake, awards came thick and fast
And very soon the space machine, had an ever growing cast
Five young lads from Lisburn, fifty people in their crew
An entourage of strangers that they never even knew
Five big trucks, a fleet of cars, a chopper and two planes
A man to do the finance, who didn't even know their names,
Still, fashions change, the sales dried up, the audience died away
And soon there were no big crowds, to watch the five lads play
Their last gig at the Ulster hall, was an evening to forget
Out of tune, and full of beer, as they stumbled through the set
And things got pretty messy when accountants came to call
They had no cash, they had no rights, seems their manager had it all
Their luck ran out, the band where broke, they had to end the show
They had to sell up everything, the spaceship had to go
Ray could never come to terms, with all the hurt and pain
He took some drugs and alcohol, he just never woke again
Hector went to college and he earned a top degree
And now he is the I.T guy in a light bulb factory
Johnny is the local star, who likes to talk about his fame
He tries to pull the young girls, and dine out on his name
Charlie lost his family, when the alcohol took hold
He shelters in the hostels when the weather gets too cold
Eddie left the country, when it all became too much
He now lives in Australia, but he never kept in touch
by Sashi.Prabhu
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
From my heart I cried in utter despair,
I cried till all was unsure and pain uncompare.
It world through my eyes it seems so unclear,
Feelings and emotions to me all *****.
The whispering wind a sutle din,
As my heart was filled with sorrow to the brim.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
From my heart I cried in utter despair,
I cried till all was unsure and pain uncompare.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
I know not why but I cried & cried.
Sorrowed dirge it’s lament made me cry,
For gone had she afar as I watched standing by.
Now no more blue the sky seems to me,
Black darkness looms whenever I see.
Those chirps of the birds afar I hear,
A distance I have moved away from my dear.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
From my heart I cried in utter despair,
I cried till all was unsure and pain uncompare.
None to clasp my hand a tight,
None to cuddle me to make me feel all right,
None to look forward to when I return home,
No one to keep me company ,bemoan!
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
From the bottom of my heart I cried in utter despair,
I cried till all was unsure and pain uncompare.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
Alone on a beach shack is too much to bear,
For my sweetheart, I wish she was there.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
The sands were hot & the sun was high,
Not a moment shorn of her in my thoughts has gone by.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
From my heart I cried in utter despair,
I cried till all was unsure and pain uncompare.
I cried & cried until my eyes, they dried,
Could not stop and I cried & cried ,
now they say its life, you got to move on,
But her sweet memories they still haven’t gone.
And now I am breathing a life a new,
But there are only moments in a day I like a few,
The pangs of sorrow ,they are still more to ebb,
The solitary feelings ,plead go away I beg.
As time has passed I now seek to live,
And all my love I entreat to give.
But who will want to be a pained,
Don’t think I have my strength regained.
Like riding on waves wavering
not sure where it takes me
searching for a log just to hold on,
but helpless, and alone in an abyss.
Slumber, how I wish a day's sleep
to keep everything aside, and rest,
in my beloved’s lap, that warm lap.
Hours of cuddling , sweet lovemaking
the joy of belonging, drugged in love
kissing her wet lips, warmth so alluring
And a rest in the arms of the beloved.
But now left in life's wilderness
Searching For the lost oasis.
will I reach it before die of thirst?
or be buried in unfulfilled dreams.
Night again, pitch dark, dead silent
A chill passes through my spine
Spreads and chokes me like a python.
Unable to move, pushing to oblivion.
Me not alone ,have memories so fond
enough to rekindle, like resurrection,
The memory of love and her warmth
the lingering fragrance of the past
Enough to live on but why tears still?
This silence has thousand tongues
Audible silence of a forgotten living
told in a lovers song, life of the lonely.
long ride of a dreamer, moving yet still,
pangs of fatigue, a thirst so hurting.
The morning sun, on a spring
winter not far away, naked trees shy
Rushing to cover with new foliage.
song of the cuckoos, resting on twigs
Echoes of distant church bell chimes ,
the creepers waving to the farmers
dews, shining diamonds in dawn rays
the gurgle of the sparkling stream
In thickets the chirpings of love birds
smell of raw earth, ants lined in order,
the cattle linedup, heading pastures
A silhouette afar dressed in snow
A hoof sound of a horse in its course
It's all fine dear to exalt my heart
but on a lonely day it's all wasted gift.
Wandering in search, to love reclaim
Where should I search that I lost
than in your own heart love preserved
my life, a loser's lament, a dirge-
of a priest burying the dead in cold
a whisper of the devil to the cursed
a mistake of the master of creation
Blemish on the moon reflecting sun
yet a crave to live, if she were here.
Even the mirage formed by memories
Make me wander in arid deserts
where the sun burns all it's fuel .
I sustain on dreams wandering
living! a faint feeling now hurting.
the heart is dried unable to beat
but somewhere, just a feeble throb
a throb that lost rhythmic speed.
just waiting for her sweet breath
To inclaim my life with her love.
Amethyst shades dazzle her mysteriousness
hiding black secrets in vulnerable mellows
though recognized in the forgotten marshes
she's said to possess dark onyx powers.
She smiles at lost passersby in the red valley
aware of the myths bubbling beneath wet soil
and they disappear in unexplored forests
seemingly safer than her uncharted evil mind
every full moon augments her fragrance they say
her Carmen blooms to entrap innocent souls.
A thousand false alarms wrapped in assumptions
for they'd never know she's a trampled magnolia
tattered spirits in frayed rags was all she had
dried oceans of scarlet tears in enclaves of fears
humanity died on a full moon night under heavy breaths
her weakened screams muted with lustful arms
blurred visions of a forced conviction in blood
her faint shrieks died in this swamp of tragedies
till her blood froze beneath slumbering snow.
Her burning spirit simmered mauve mists
slimy seeds sprouted the dirty green marshes
spring bloomed her courage to recollect storms
crushed to sprinkle colors on heavenly topanga
diamonds in her mind shimmer as she laughs
sending ripples of valor in perturbed oceans
embracing her flaws she sings a folk melody
trances of whispers blended in mellow symphony
legends of crimson valley float with her flute
a goddess calming oppressed souls to breathe
they've heard stories of sapphires burning
splashing colors of freedom and kindness
but all they see on drooping moonless nights
her pious caricature coming alive in dark
magenta petals blooming in layered fog of storms
turning mauve then scarlet glittering ruby
spreading wings from green marshes perfumed flowers
on elevators of courage to save scarred souls
infant butterflies arise in lilac hues of whispering hopes.
July 4, 2020
A Contest About a Goddess or God - Not THE God Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
~Winner: 1st Place
butter flies and marshes mellow Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
~Premiere Contest Winner: 2nd Place