Long Ebony Poems
Long Ebony Poems. Below are the most popular long Ebony by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ebony poems by poem length and keyword.
Inspired by Glenn Hughes song "No StrangerTo Love"
The sparkling dawn lights up
my heart’s ebony horizon,
spreads the sunburst colors of yearning
in the fervent garden,
blooming with my love,
swathes the facsimile of your floral face.
In the valley of my mind,
contoured by desire,
I carve the channel
of longing to reach you.
The fervid cloud of craving
melts in a compelling torrent,
makes my limitless love
a cascading river where I swim.
Suffused with the diffused drizzle
of my love in tarnished twilight,
you disappear out of my sight
beyond the garden of blooming delight.
Your footsteps trample my emotive flower,
its crumbled petals make a wreath
for my broken heart.
I collect the shards of my life,
strewn behind the door I’ve crossed,
with love enfolding the slices of heart.
I want to tell you,
my dusty guitar gently weeps
the tune of my melancholic passion,
I hope it will reach you.
Losing the remains of longing
in the debris of my broken heart,
I saunter with sullen feeling
to the silent shore of sorrow.
My emotions swirl unbound
like the dislodged rolling sand
in the tide of remote time.
On the sighing sea of despair,
made of billion drops of tear,
descends the somber shadow
of the nostalgic night’s slate sky,
split asunder by the cobalt cold flash
of the tormenting thunder,
fading in my memory
in the horizon of oblivion.
I live now only to seek you,
for I walk alone in the wasteland.
You’ll take me to the blooming valley,
my longing will turn into flower for you.
Our future will be tinged by its hue,
my love will evermore embrace the spring time.
I need to...have peace of mind (I need a healthy, positive mindset and attitude)
I need to list my head above the surface
I want to...have hope in mind (I want a good frame of mind...please don't look
at me...I'm embarrassed & I'm in a bad mood)
Catch my train of thought & embrace
The illuminated night
I wish, I wish I can spend time with you tonight
And tell you that everything will be alright
Even though I may be wrong or right,
I assure you that
Things will soon be black and white
We were stomped on like a mat
But, you get my drift, so let's seek God's advice
I wish with all of my heart that you and I will shimmer anew
Our fantasies entwined as one is like sugar and spice
The sky was ebony, but now it's an aqua-blue...yet, the clouds are not
sponging in rue...
Don't be sad
Be glad with me...
Be joyous, not mad
God's rain will shower upon us glee
Sunlit glee
Will shine our way
Do you see me,
Glistening like the day?
Oh baby, you and I
You and I will be able to fly
In no time, in no time
Our love is oh so sublime
I'm so weird & you're weird too
I was so unprepared to take flight
Someday, despite being here without you,
We'll get through this difficult plight
Tonight, keep an eye on our dreams that we dreamt a while back
We were lost, but now we're found, so stand tall with me and soon, we'll not
be that magazine, cold and alone on the magazine rack
“It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.”
David Levithan
I will forever be as pure
as white virgin fibres,
in your onyx
field of ravens.
When the
star-crossed
silhouette of
bleeding ink,
ricochets like
vindictive arrows,
within your
hollow walls,
quenched with
muted echoes,
I am reminded of
your ebony eyes,
cradled under
black decomposing flesh.
I shove my
misunderstood identity
into a pocket journal,
embalmed with a
fragrance of peace lilies
and rhapsodical prose,
amidst doleful dusks
painted with
past mistakes
hidden beneath
narratives of sinful
tangerine nights.
But, remember
that your fallacious
name is an
erased footnote
in the history of
relentless runes.
My tormented tongue
has become
immune to
your false screams.
There is no need
for close-fisted
fingers to flip
through pages,
of the story
I left behind,
as visions of
venomous verses
cremate into
ashes in my mind-
as mere memories
of monologues from
ice cold monsoons,
which don’t define me.
I’ve sculpted fragile
paper boats and
watched them ferry my
demons,
floating on daisies
in a ravishing rivulet
of truth and tranquility,
whilst you chase
impassioned imprints
within chapters
written in patterns
of insincere phrases.
I am a survivor of
your storm,
drawing dreams in
drowsy darkness,
blooming my
amethyst artistry,
which vibrantly
beats to burgundy
evolutions of a
blossoming flower,
who's scent you
will never savor.
My petals
may be fragile,
but I refuse to remain
prisoned in toxic
traits of a
weathered wildflower -
I only attract
majestic butterflies.
To A Prodigal Awakening
They said the grass was greener
On the other side;
so you stepped over—clutching
great expectations
and the satisfaction of lingering
hunger for better.
Yes you yearned to be
What you’re not.
You returned bewildered and dismayed;
Perilous journey—
The sojourn to truths taught
often tries the soul.
The life of our fulfillment in creation
is an ebony tower—
transcending all nullification
of those created in The Image:
Welcome home Brother. Come
Bathe and baptize yourself in the Nile waters
of your Nubian beginning.
Indeed, there’s no place like home;
where black is beautiful and it’s so beautiful
To be young, gifted and black—
And that’s a fact.
When night’s ebony is vanquished,
the pre-dawn turns slowly into peach.
Peach becomes persimmon and pink
as scarlet starts to streak the sky..
As I breathe the snowy whiteness of the clouds,
the sun shyly peeks out from behind them.
Suddenly the deliciousness of saffron
shines forth with the hope of a new day.
I’m gazing up at a Monet.
Day progresses, and at times
I view new birds that wing their way
through a heaven gone azure.
Gradually the azure changes to periwinkle blue
tinged with violet hues.
Evening is upon us.
Apricot slashes through the sky
and then it turns a passionate pink.
The clouds coalesce into larger white fluffs
which trim the twilight
like whipped cream on a raspberry pie.
Later the clouds become wisps of silver threads
as the yellow sun submerges itself into the sea.
The pale pearl moon and diamond stars appear -
the brightest of them shimmering ice blue
from far far away.
Sky has become a sapphire sheet
blanketing the part of the world that has gone to sleep.
Whether night be black or cobalt blue,
eventually dawn arrives
to vanquish night again.
Dec. 19, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice No 55 Poetry Contest
I enter a cave of somber gray
feeling despondent and in dire straits.
For in this cavern night swallows day
and in its bowels my fate awaits.
Ravenous shadows consume color
giving black a sense of completeness.
And darkness pours forth like molasses
a syrup of ebony sweetness.
Stumbling blind I approach an abyss
oblivion's just inches away.
Yet fear’s subordinate and silent
a mere observer, voiceless today.
A bright light flashes before my eyes
and hesitation backs me away.
For although I can't see anything
some phenomenon caused that display.
Doubt relentlessly tests my resolve
explaining the reasons I seek death.
Yet light pierced the walls of this cave
and a feeling of hope steals my breath.
Faith penetrates my fog of despair
guiding me to recognize God’s sign.
And I cling to His loving embrace
feeling in my heart, all will be fine.
Whispering wings ~ feathers afloat,
Molting and marvelous, magnanimous
Wonders, alighting in familiar places.
~
Each feather remembers the warmth,
The pear-shaped cradle ere birth.
The quietude-nest, the guardian enfolds.
~
Even in rapid flight, into ebony night,
Wings, like a butterfly’s, though they sing,
trumpet no sound, unless one’s in tune
~
With God, unless the Spirit is just right,
Unless the Father is prepared to save
Or take away or just delight - just because…
~
Molting and marvelous, plucked from memories,
The magnanimous calls to the perceiver —
The flight, the whisper, the hesperus-hour,
~
Tingle of senses, the angelic featherbed
Releases an echo of space and time
To loved ones left behind…a single dove.
~
Even the blind, deaf and dumb recover
their senses, grab hold of the felicitous flight
…somehow, one’s guardian angel delivers this gift.
~
Godspeed, feather-light, wings that glow
whiter than snow. The Holy Spirit prepared
to disentangle truth from fiction in one’s frightful season.
~
Guardian-wing’d, miracle snow-drift, lights up
those dust-filled dendrites, attempts to clear
the cobwebs — spread of peace and light.
~
Next to her, smiling wide, exact replica
of an angel - Mom. Next to her frame —
a feather-gift treasured by my father.
1/12/2022
Gravitational pull like quicksand, her ebony eyes
Ripping into his outer space. He tugs at his collar,
Eking out the empty space of honeysuckle perfume.
Avant-garde arrest of his indeterminate heart -
Time like scented petals pauses — a prop
Entertaining the thought, the mockery of bachelorhood
Sought for too many years. Scented petals fall like snow,
Captivating the soul — love at first sight, can it be?
“Ariel! O Ariel!” I tunnel my way to find out your name.
People like me rarely jettison to the Milky Way.
Eagerly he made quick the great escape and married her.
1/15/2020
There is a moment on my morning walk…removed from noise and crowds
when I look up to see which phase of the moon is peeking through the clouds.
There is another moment while walking in the silence
my face brushed by the morning breeze
when that breeze decides to break the silence
as it whistles through the trees.
Still another moment when the ebony darkness of the night
begins to share the heavens with the dawning of the light.
And yet another moment when out of the darkness hop the rabbits…
with the silent greeting they bring
followed by the owls whispering good night as the birds begin to sing.
How blessed am I to walk in the morning and experience along the way
moments like these which often become some of my favorite moments of the day.
Mist of Moonlight Fantasy
Ludwig~
Shimmering waves of arching arpeggios
Grace the first moments
Of your moonlight child;
Mysterious conception
Hidden in fleeting legends
Of a composition enraptured by blindness
Or love
Mystical as white shadows
On ebony
Dripping with dedication
Or sheer clouds that veil round fullness -
A dreamy maiden of pale passionate
Quasi fantasy
Wandering between grieving illusion
And figments of yearning;
Shapeless minor moon moods,
Like velvet blue vespers,
Rise up as scintillas
To ride
On wisps of major melody
In notes
Of fragile all consuming passion
Grasping at moonbeams
Of melody from borrowed light -
Descending fancy now flees
From the resolution
In the inevitable dawn.
Ludwig ~
Here your ears still hear
Moonlight rhapsodies
In a sonata by a waltzing river blue.