Long Elegies Poems

Long Elegies Poems. Below are the most popular long Elegies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elegies poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Dewdrop Dreams

Wettest dewdrop hangs soundless on the edge
Of flashy, cheerful orange red lily
Mirroring emerald green foliage
Balanced close by, aimless, o’er the beauty

Dew drenched pea green shrubbery is carefree
With bright and showy blooms seen everywhere
Bold blue purple and yellow or cherry
Beside soft pinks and deep, dark red fanfare

Exquisite colored hues caught by prayer
Leaving murky shadows across lush grass
Light summer breeze falls across thoroughfare
Caressing, softly touching to surpass

Mild morning dew carries soft melodies
Contented moments spent with elegies







Written on August 10th, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Form: Sonnet


DREAMY SKY

[Intro]
I take not one, but two—
Cassidy pens all I see.
His quill carves stars into drifting steam,
Spilling my thoughts like melted tea.

He’s writing now, as the train rolls in—
Steam like ghosts against my skin.
The platform hums with names I’ve lost,
And my mind derails without a cost.

[Verse 1]
Steam draws elegies on mirrored breath,
Faces drip like incense in death.
I stir the firmament with a tarnished spoon,
Summon the howl of a long-dead moon.

Cassidy watches from the porcelain sill,
His pen still dancing, deathly still.
He traps each thought before it flies—
And folds them under dreaming skies.

[Chorus]
We’re simmering in the man soup, friend,
Where silence and sinew twist and bend.
Celestial onions begin to weep,
In pots where buried spirits sleep.

[Verse 2]
The butcher wears a crown of flies,
The carrot hums old lullabies.
A prophet peeled like sacred root
Pours gospel steam through Cassidy’s flute.

Galaxies swirl in marrow streams,
Dissolving slow into lucid dreams.
Salted with cries never born to try—
Scribed in steam beneath a dreamy sky.

[Bridge]
Don’t stir the void... it bites back.
Let it curdle... let it crack.
A hand ascends through boiling foam—
Not waving... just... stirring home.

[Chorus]
We’re melting in the man soup, love,
Seasoned with ash from stars above.
Taste buds bloom in violet hue,
While Cassidy writes what I never knew.

[Outro]
Spooned from wombs and poured through fate,
Garnished with the hands of late.
Drink it down, O trembling eye—
A mouthful of the dreamy sky.

The soup has made me comfortably numb...
No edges left, no place to run.
My name dissolves in seasoned foam—
And Cassidy writes: "he won’t come home."

Note: Conceptual Psychedelic Rock / Progressive Ballad In Honor Of My Favorite Band - Pink Floyd
© Lyric Man  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Sulpicia: Elegies






1

Love has come at last, and such a love as I
should be more shamed to hide than to reveal.
Cytherea, yielding to my Muse’s prayers,
has brought him here and laid him in my arms.
Venus has kept her promise. Let people talk, who never
themselves have found such joys as now are mine.
I wish that I could send my tablets to my love
unsealed, not caring who might read them first.
The sin is sweet, to mask it for fear of shame is bitter.
I’m proud we’ve joined, each worthy of the other.

2

My hateful birthday’s come, which must be spent in gloom
in the boring countryside — without Cerinthus!
What’s nicer than the city? What girl would want some cabin,
and the chilly river of Aretium’s fields?
Now do stay put, Messalla; you try too hard to please me:
trips, my uncle, are not always welcome.
My heart and soul will stay behind, although I’m gone,
since you won’t let me act as I would wish.

3

Guess what? — that gloomy trip is off your girl’s mind.
We’re going to spend my birthday now in Rome!
Now all of us can celebrate that birthday here,
a piece of unexpected luck for you!

4

I’m glad you take me for granted enough to show me now
what kind of man I almost let possess me.
Go chasing after hookers and spinning-girls and whores:
forget Sulpicia, daughter of Servius.
But I have friends who care, and who will spare no pains
to see that no cheap tart humiliates me.

5

Do you feel loving care, Cerinthus, for your girl,
since fever now torments her wearied limbs?
Ah, I would not wish to live through this disease
unless I knew you also wished it too;
for what good would it do me to live through this disease,
if you can bear my troubles with calm heart?

6

As I still hope, my light, to be your fierce desire
as much as it seemed I was the other day,
I’ve never been so foolish in my young life, I swear,
or done one thing that I’ve regretted more,
than going from you last night and leaving you alone,
trying to hide how desperately I love you.


— from the Latin




-------------------------------------------------
Form: Other

Premium Member return of the butterflies

My muse is a poetic flower garden,
blooming lilacs in barren meadows,
but I still remember 
how I heeded haunting heartbeats
in paradise, whilst praying 
for your lustrous light,
to descend onto my hazy horizons.

Your eyes like captivating sunsets,
made me dream away, 
recalling shells lost in a forgotten 
coral reef, castaway upon 
an elusive island,
where the paths have no name,
but the oceanic breeze 
      calls yours so softly.

I was killing time, 
                 scribbling elegies
on distant musical shores,
where spotted eagle rays
and flying fish were my only mentors.
Nocturnal reef sharks unfolded tales
beneath lonesome skies,
illustrating a secretive stairway
that would lead me
           to the scintillating stars.

Deep within my heart, 
I knew in the darkest 
night you are the light
that would illuminate 
my breathless sighs
with blazing ballads 
      rewriting my fate, 
            reawakening my 
need to thrive through these 
endless melancholic monsoons;
surfing through vast oceans.
Your cosmic radiance pulled 
this chocolate mermaid,
from the bioluminescent 
ripples of sorrow,
empathising with 
      endless streams from
my volcanic mind 
and harmonious heart,
which was in dire 
need of healing,
from draconian depleted 
ideologies imprinted within 
a labyrinth of
          narcissistic daffodils,  
emanating deceptive fragrances
resembling the devil's disciple,
claiming me as nothing,
but a mere self
confessed queen
on a conquest to conquer
the uncontrollable calling 
to a land of virtual hypocrisy.

If only they knew
I no longer desired 
to rule a kingdom of 
    tumultuous pretense.
I was waiting for the 
return of the butterflies,
tearing apart the fragile 
       walls of its cocoon.

I knew if Romeo did not die,
I would be living Juliet's desires.
I was a poetess 
         searching for 
a purpose,  with no sense 
to shelter,   watching the 
last icicle 
        of winter melt away.

Truth deserves a narrative 
that has no ending,
though I question the universe.
Where do the 
     lost poets reside? 
Is it where the 
moon chooses to hide,
disguising dreariness 
within dazzling blankets 
of dancing moonscapes,
or will this be how 
this sleepless soul
seizes its faultless lunar tide?

Premium Member Morning on the Seine near Giverny by Monet

Your smile shines~
as the early effulgence enshrouds
upon wisteria water 
echoing ephemeral embraces 
on tenebrous  turquoise  trees
that bear your name. 

Your laughters linger~
upon the emerald leaves 
that radiate  a lilac shade 
as the sun goes up
like your eyes that sparkle a hue
transforming into Caribbean blue
on the first glance
of a sweet romance.

Your song soars~
entwined in ethereal ensemble 
above each passing cloud
where etched elegies echo
a lost and found love.

That magical morning scene
of enchanted garden near Giverny
unveils a dream I keep
in wild willows lilac leaves 
where my story dwells in silence .

The shy sky behind them~
wishes to kiss the gleaming water
where silent sanctuaries are sheathed
upon the indigo shadow,
accentuated by fine chiaroscuro 
embracing purple petals
that whisper through silent water
where lofty love story dwells~ 
perpetuated by each sunrise.
© JC Brul  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ekphrasis


Premium Member Most Beautiful Christmas Poem

Most Beautiful Christmas Poem 11/25/22  Based on the Messianic Prophecies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas Rose	

The Christmas Rose bursts into bloom
As echoes of midnight’s final chimes resound –
Precious Bloom of Perfect Prophecy inhales a first breath 
Of winnowing starlight foretold
The Prince of Heaven steps into our blemished creation
New lungs fill with aromatic fulfillment
With bursting refrains once heard in Eden.

Torrents of roaring grace
Smash narrow portals of garden betrayal
Eras, ages and eons of sneering dominion
Stumble sideways in vertigo
Temptation’s false victory turned upside down
Smug visages fade into imploding arrogance 

The missing piece of the human heart
Vibrates again in unison of Emmanuel’s Eternal Beatitude
With the tenor of timeless oblations 
Heaven’s trembling preparation of holy delight
Explodes in triumph with the New Genesis
Through the breathless comma of anticipation

Before defeated wraiths of wildness
Gorges shatter, valleys level
Avalanches of obliteration raze
Buttes, crumbling cliffs and ridges of desolation
Midnight’s last stroke of domination
Turns a beastly reign into a flailing whine

Gone the plaintive elegies of exile
Heralds of angels harvest flowers in the desert
Gates into everlasting broad highways open
First Born Mystery in swaddling clothes smiles
In desert blooms of sweet frankincense 
With everlasting scents as joy blooms in Eternal Laughter!

Eden’s new age of Exuberant Truth strides into time
Writing beauty’s signature on mountaintops
Leaving incense where insolent decay 
Abandons ashes of deluded victory
Sweet scented perfume of grace overpowers putrid 
Baby conceived in Anointed Advent, gird in Gloria, arrives!

Premium Member Deathbed Poetry: Jesus of Nazareth

Deathbed Poetry – Jesus of Nazareth – 10-9-25. “It is finished!”  An elegiac has three parts – grief, praise and comfort.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deathbed Poetry - Jesus of Nazareth “It is Finished!”

Only splinters cradle your bloodied face
Shouted curses drown your last words of blessing
Helpless tears, washed in the blood and water of your side,
Mix with the filth of tangled betrayals
Your seamless dignity faces the cruelty of dice
Gamblers with eternity
Raise gall to lips that spoke their creation
The sunless day grieves 
Blind to the perfect prophecy’s fulfillment
All creation bows – wracked with grief 
As angels hover over your sinless hands
Heaven trembles – earth erupts – temples shudder.
“It is Finished!”  Yet, Love always survives.

When you spread out your pierced hands 
Between Eternity and earth
Superstitions and spells flee in vertigo
The last vile breath of time possessed darkness
Screams in writhing whimpers at your gaze
Stumbling into an unresolved infinity
You transcend our rags of shame to raiments
On torrents of your new grace
Holy delight laughs as midnight claims its last echo
In your hands irony transcends to victory
Our tears to triumph in your new Genesis
Where mysteries of a garden materialize.
“It is finished!”  And Love always survives.

Eden’s heart-wrenching elegies of regret
Resolve in a timeless time signature
Chrisms of frankincense erase deep scars
With the anointed balm of forgiveness,
Abandoned ashes gather into endless effervescence
When tempests expire over still waters
And lilies bloom in weeded pastures
Our new lungs sing out aromatic splendor
In refrains of Eden heard again
Joy takes root in the beatitudes of the manger’s Rose
Grace overpowers putrid bondage
As glory's pierced hands
Mend the shredded threads of our brokenness.
 “It is finished!”  Yes!  Love always survives.

Pristine poetic tears

~
Among watching forbidden archangels saunter sullen paths
I reflect mandragoras through evanescent gleams of orrery elegies,
 whirling into significant distraught dizain stanzas of my obsidian paint
in halcyon hopes my expressive ekphrasis will bloom alongside aureate tulips. 

  Under opal moons shading dozens of writhing languid lavenders of mauve, 
a hushing zephyr cuddles lost villanelle verses of my nocturne lilt heart
 shaping obsidian thorns of withering torment into eloquent paradelles 
gifting me picturesque promises of prospering ovary triumph over obsidian odes.

  O, how I dream vermillion serenade reveries of idyllic illusions  
whilst pouring out serpentine verses in poise patterns of bewitching ballads, 
 perhaps yearning celestine fantasies to be painted in aureate ruby recognition 
are as asking one to grasp glazing pearl stars under an elixir eclipse.

  Upon scrolling night's interrogating introspective sighs of myrrh melodies 
I refocus labyrinthine lilacs of drizzling determination through ethereal epics,
 for it is through periwinkle poetry I've learned to set palindromes forward
and through vignette vellichor musings I'll leap amethyst acrostics.
~
Form: Paradelle

Premium Member Fall Serenade

fall serenade

serenade of fall
 nor'easters and southerlies ~
  bittersweet in bloom

leaves sing with the winds
 arias of rising gales ~
  pumpkins harmonize

bare branches in tune
 thrum rhythms of autumn ~
  acorn symphonies

blast of icy frost
 elegies for summer air ~
  rainbow hued harvest

hues of country roads
 chant scarlet, gold, umber notes ~
  wheat fields intone fall

draughts herald autumn
 fall ruffles and flourishes ~
  corn stalks beat in time

autumn song resounds
 carols of butterfly bush ~
  chimes float on flurries

10-4-22
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
Merriam Webster spells nor'easters with punctuation.
Form: Haiku

Premium Member Elegy for Old Growth

Elegy – 7-17-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elegy for Old Growth

Through measures of metered melancholy
The tattered winds sing a rent elegy,
A pensive wail for pristine old growth,
A drifting chant in pure pitch of final farewell –
The mute tongue howls in eulogy
For virgins of a thousand turns around the sun
For helpless giants surrendered in atonal sacrifice.

Gentle titans with feathery boughs lifted their faces
To embrace misted melodies of summer and winter snows
Forest zephyrs sang lullabies for sparrows 
Nesting in their rustling wombs
Then shared the secret lyrics of their song
With robins sheltered in their lofty grace of red bark
In evensongs, matins and spring symphonies.

The myrrh of burial mixes with their lingering fragrance
In desolation and in their exposed flesh,
Nude hillsides of purple rage
Scream in final dirges of farewell
Modulated into anthems sung to saplings in circles of renewal
Little ones, like half steps, change elegies to odes
The threadbare zephyr now chants paeans to remember.
Form: Elegy

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace