Long Entranced Poems
Long Entranced Poems. Below are the most popular long Entranced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Entranced poems by poem length and keyword.
Where did she go- she left me in a spin,
with words disjointed- where do I begin?
She took my thoughts held tight within her arms,
and now I fear I'm left without her charms.
My missing thoughts and words in pieces lay;
without a plan, they'll stay in disarray.
Where did she go, that artist of my soul?
Without her lead- no thoughts, no words, no goal.
My muse is on the loose- oh help me, please!
She's gone for good- or is this just a tease?
My muse is on the loose, what happens now?
I'm crushed, forsaken- this I can't allow.
I looked into the den where books are kept;
high up, upon the shelves, and then I crept
down cellar stairs among the antiques there-
returning to the second-story stair.
I looked in every corner, neath the bed;
no sign of her, but then I soon was led
up to the attic by its window view-
entranced, she sat, and that is when I knew.
My muse was on the loose to find new scenes,
and now beside her, inspiration streams.
The vision of the mountains, valleys, sky-
so beautiful it made me gasp and sigh.
Together we sat weaving thoughts and words
while hearing the sweet lullaby of birds.
I learned a poet's muse must be set free-
sometimes to find new views successfully.
September 4, 2016
~2nd Place~
Contest: When There Is No Inspiration
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 10/08/2020
~3rd Place~
Contest: Strand Select 5
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 01/07/2020
~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Muse On The Loose
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 09/12/2016
(Iambic Pentameter in Couplets)
The flood of agony inundates the debris of hope
The weed-webbed fallow terrain languishes within
Piles up the wreckage of the life unlived
As the garden of rapture turns into bare badland.
The meadow of future waits for me to be walked
The alchemy of fantasy invents the magical glitter of gold
Gilds the rusted crust of the withering present
Marigold of ecstasy blooms in the Midas-touched mind.
Wrapped by the golden rays of the setting sun
The entranced mind rolls on the high waves of life
Pulled within the gloomy trough of anguish
Crashes on the shore shaped by the shadow of dismal past.
The castle I build with golden sands disappears in the sea
And I follow over the decay the footprints of destiny
To the eroded wasteland of the time present
At the end of the aureate dream I dreamt.
_________________
December 22, 2022
Title Chosen : Reverse Midas Touch
Contest : This Or That, Vol. 15
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
Enchantment of fire is so beautiful to hunt,
seductive, intoxicating, wild, and untamed...
an entranced moth, in tawny fragile wings
fluttering in frenzy, yearning for warmth
embraces the irresistible flickering sparks.
their mirth in sync, a dangerous dalliance.
fuzzy deception in the lure of its blaze
the moth knows not its short life span.
Please stay a little longer, O dear flame,
Let me save you from dying, says the moth
But alas!
Lovebeams blend into the dark night, and
in its shadow a defeated moth is shattered,
black soot mourning with its charred wings.
As the hall is again full of lanterns and light,
a new cloud of moths wait in hope of white.
Flurries sway on brocade of her pinkish gown
It’s Christmas night, breath rising from fresh lips,
A graceful face looks on as tinsels surround
Bouquet of orchids clutched by fingertips.
She paces a walk down through a chapel aisle,
Rhapsody of carols hums of new life
While he, entranced by rare sight parts a smile
Exchanging oaths so warm, man to bride-wife.
The hallway rouses with cheer and merriment
December groom takes spouse for glides of waltz
And best man toasts, “Jane, don’t nag for the rent ;
Sean, always laugh at her old jokes with applause.”
After chimes for kisses ring, her back turns
Unfurling bouquet of orchids, mid- air
A catch huddled by one whose fate confirms
Same magic of a wedded bliss; love’s flair!
....................
12/03/2013
Shadow's Contest:Getting Married at Christmas...
by nette onclaud
frosty was a happy snowman
had a carrot nosed wife named ann
together they had a little snowball
who was only one and a half feet tall.
frosty had a button for a nose
and had a magic hat so it goes
as he sung and as he danced
all the children became entranced.
he ran hollering through the town
and was laughing like a silly clown
he went up the hills and across the snow
and where he ended up, nobody knows.
but rumour has it he was followed out of town
by the grinch who was wearing a frown
the grinch is so mean, and has no soul
was said, to have kicked frosty in the ice hole.
In this war
there'll be more than one last kiss
teeth digging in, holding on
to a long awaited alabaster neck
entranced in the trenches
our battle has yet to begin
legs splayed wide,
her flutters flank my side
white flags fly
with no hope for tomorrow
arms laid down
in less than surrender
but more as a midnight truce
she dictates the rules
and I follow
like always (?)
fingers cross the t's
and I dot her eye
with the brush of my fire
ice cubes melting slowly
dripping down her spine
she opens her borders
and I slip in
a spy with only one life to live
giving it all
and taking no prisoners
for tonight we both shall win
In the existential dualist domain,
irreducibly implanted in intrinsic psychic arena,
we breathe as God’s generous gift
the divine breath of the enactment life,
as the source of congruent performing creativity.
The unwavering faith molds the mind
for its inward journey to enlightened eternity,
the ordained life turns into a turbulent river,
the currents of contemplation interlace,
and carry the elements of innate reflection.
The ultimate merger with the serene sea,
contouring the receptive calmness of the soul,
manifests in the final amalgamation
with the aspects of infinite euphoria,
sublimating the essence of mental motif.
The soul shines in the spiritual glow,
reflecting the patina of perception lotus,
as self-searching entranced odyssey ends
in the singular sanctum of the supreme,
the revelation revives the acuity appreciation.
The spiritual passage across perception stratum,
achieved by introspective dissolution
of the rigid notions through transcendence,
dissolves the division of outside-in and inside-out,
virtuous bliss suffuses as we bilocate our awareness.
In June of 1886,
A German sailor tossed
A bottle with a message
Overboard, where it got lost.
The ship, en route to Indonesia,
Left from Cardiff, Wales,
The bottle an experiment
To track the currents’ trails.
A woman walking on the shore
This January glanced
Upon the sand and what she saw
Immediately entranced –
An old glass bottle poking through
A stark Australian beach;
She brought it home and found inside
A scroll that she could reach.
She dried it in the oven
And the message was revealed,
One hundred thirty-one long years
From when it first was sealed.
It merely told where it was from
And asked for its return,
So scientists could analyze
Its journey and could learn.
A message in a bottle
Has a singular mystique,
Like a hole cut in the fabric
Of the past, where we can peek.
Yesterday hurt
Like a knife
Carving out my brain
Until all the inner art–
All of my agency–
Is sliced into festering slop.
Today hurt.
I punched a wall
That would not even bother
To weep.
Tomorrow hurts.
Just thinking about it.
About waking up.
This can't be happening.
This can't be real.
I'm actually entranced in love
With a hypnotically perfect woman
And I’m not all alone.
We’re actually counting endless fireflies in the sky
Who glow like orange shades of afternoon hues.
I'm actually flying with them.
I can feel them.
I'm actually alive.
And as I levitate,
I feel the sunbeams shimmer
Warming my face.
I see butterflies flutter
And land on flowers of rainbow shades.
I'm like a child, frolicking mid-air
Saying hello to little robins
And jays that tweet soft songs back.
And tomorrow isn’t happening.
I'm actually in a golden spire
Packed full with a sublime orchestra
Gracefully petting their strings
With glowing fingertips
Just for me
And I can’t even want anymore
Because I am satisfied,
Laying gently in a field
Relaxed like a meditator.
And I'm not here.
And I'm not scared.
And this isn’t happening.
I'm so sick of crying
I want to jump like a grasshopper
When his grass blades tremble
Like a candle flame in the wind.
I'm actually cradled in my mother's arms
And many familiar hands
Are caressing me to sleep.
Life is magic all again
And I shine brighter than a diamond.
And there's no storm.
And there's no wind.
None of all of anything
Is ever happening.
Sophia had always been drawn to the edge of the mysterious forest that bordered her village, a place whispered about in tales but seldom explored. One afternoon, guided by an unusual shimmer of silver light through the dense canopy, she ventured inside alone. As she wandered deeper, the trees seemed to hum softly, and glowing flowers lit her path like lanterns. She soon discovered a hidden glade where time felt suspended—a circle of ancient stones pulsing with a gentle warmth. There, Sophia found a small crystal orb nestled among mossy roots that responded to her touch by projecting images of forgotten dreams and untold stories.
Entranced by this magical discovery, Sophia realized the forest was alive not only in nature but with memories seeking new custodianship. The orb revealed that each visitor could leave behind a piece of their own hope or wish within the glade for others to find one day. Deciding to share her deepest wish—that kindness would flourish in her village—she placed it carefully into the stone circle before retracing her steps home under twilight’s soft embrace. From that day forward, Sophia noticed subtle changes: strangers offering warm smiles on dusty roads and neighbors helping one another more freely—all woven from seeds planted during her quiet journey into the heart of magic itself.