Long Enwrapping Poems
Long Enwrapping Poems. Below are the most popular long Enwrapping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Enwrapping poems by poem length and keyword.
I watch
as sun slides down in the sky.
The shadows increase in length,
a dark waterfall descending
upon the sandy beach.
Slowly I inhale and exhale,
savoring the fresh flavor
of the evening’s briny sea.
My eyes devour
swirls of lavender wisteria
beautifying the vast expanse
of the darkening cobalt sky.
My sweet summer
has slipped away
with the setting of the sun
on this autumnal equinox day.
The waterfall of shadows
is now a fountain
totally engulfing the shore,
having evolved into
night’s giant all-consuming chrysalis
enwrapping me body and soul.
A sudden rush of wind
and small ripples on the water
transform into turbulent waves
lashing the shoreline where I stand.
I tug my sweater closer to my chest
as I tremble in the gloaming.
Floating in the flash flood
of divesting dissonance pervasive,
I see a verdant valley carved out
within the entity of lonesome me,
drifting away with the desolate sigh,
displaced from the stratum of sound
of the converging cacophony loud.
I dream attached to the unanchored mind.
In the precinct of pristine sprawling thicket,
I wander on the curved contours of life,
as the spreading sunlight of prime promise
bursts with multihued magnificence
on the calm canopy with golden beams.
The leaves sparkle with spectrum of splendor,
create the converging shadow of silence,
where I get consumed by calmness.
In the embracing breeze rippling enticed,
the beguiled boughs dance in harmony,
make a mystique motif enwrapping me.
Within the light and shadow lattice,
with the sunray strands the foliage weaves
for me the tapestry of ecstasy.
It performs the kaleidoscopic show of joy
for my dreams to be embellished.
With the forlorn life lumbering
across the amber wanton wilderness,
I’ve to take a lone journey unknown.
From the cool cradle of the copse
I’ll garner the silhouetted grandeur
of its emerald sheen in the shadow.
In my mind I’ll strive to stow its opulence,
create in my pallid heart a jade meadow.
Walking the last mile of the journey
in the remaining hours of my day,
shimmering with the fading twilight blush,
I long for respite for the last time,
step into the waiting woods once again,
where the dying sunlight glows,
and see my dreams return enwrapped
within lengthening shadow of sunlit memory.
“The dark wasteland of life I need to traverse
kindling the beacon of hope at the edge of time” – by Poet
In the flooding river of the tormenting time,
spreading the arms of smothering agony,
I feel my exuberant essence drown disowned,
and for an anchorage I cling to the string of hope.
You disappear from collapsed plateau of yearning,
I hear the call of the distant bell tolling for me,
submerging the music of my life’s broken violin
in the flow of the sonorous stream of solitude.
As the tide of time searches for the edge of eternity,
in the fading twilight of despair I breathe forlorn
the melancholic air that whispers the sunset song,
echoing the rhythm of my soulful susurration.
From the enwrapping expanse of wasteland dust
I’ll rise with the indomitable resolve not yet lost,
and on the trail illumined by the rays of the new sun
with tinge of hope, I’ll travel to the horizon of ecstasy.
_______________________
October 31, 2021
Contest : "S" Contest, New Poems
Sponsor : Constance La France
Ringing in the stars with harmonies of night
no greater sonnet ever was then that of
midnight hues of moody blues and acorn light
oh blessed breath forsake me not thereof
no splendor greater then this evening glow
has ever touched my brow or curved my smile
I long to stitch this memory with songs of flow
then wear it like a crown while I compile
a sonnet of great beauty by a sway
as worthy as the dusk that falls upon
a willow bark of deep cafe au lait
oh blessed breath enfold me til' the dawn
has blushed my reverie and seized my day
enwrapping with gauze and morning ray.
7/18/2019
submitted to Seth Pina's Horror Contest in '26
It started with one utterance
that grew into a shout.
That cry grew louder in his ear.
He could not get it out.
The bellowing prolonged itself,
and then one cry was two.
His frightened eyes searched faces on
the teeming avenue.
On the edge of reason then,
he gaped at strangers’ lips,
but mouths stayed shut and mocked the truth
of his apocalypse.
The cries that he was hearing came
a hundredfold or more,
a deafening cacophony,
an oceanic roar.
And nightmare revelations that
had brought this din in dreams
were now his actuality -
enwrapping him in screams.
The throng pressed on around a man
who crouched, with eyes half-dead.
And now inside a room he rocks
to screams inside his head.
From the falling edge of the ebony night sky,
as the surmounting shroud of despair darts,
the promise of the full moon I’ve made to you,
I’ll keep before the enwrapping eclipse starts.
As the cloud clumps clear at the fall of night,
I rise from the strewn debris of the fallen sky,
the opulence of your grace captures my sight,
my dormant desire to reach you soars high.
Your image then comes to me as an astral boon,
designs the leitmotif of longing in your lilting glow,
entices my shadow to touch the tainted moon,
you’ll realize the earnestness my effort will show.
Within my desolate darkness deepening fast,
you in my orbit gleam with the moonshine grace,
while the floating tinsels of the silver dust
flutter like fairy wings on your silhouette face.
The sun of desire aligns with my heart precisely,
bloody flush flashes on your face devastating.
As the penumbra of my passion eclipses you totally,
your visage turns into the rare red moon rising.
This neighborhood young girl I know
has reached very early the life’s terminal,
for cancer is creeping in deadly silence
on sure clutching feet in her tender lungs.
Her drowsy eyes decline to close ever
lest the final sleep comes unushered,
leaving all her dreams in the distant abyss,
takes away the wonderful world from her.
Floating on the mist of consciousness
she hears a remote whisper waft near,
flowing on the feeble breath telling her,
‘fight with courage, don’t give up yet,
construct the highway of hope bit by bit,
for you have a long long way to go’,
but her unsure skeptic mind can’t hold on
to the thread of self-belief for long.
Thinking sorely the battle is preordained,
she’d surely lose with the end coming soon,
the girl takes the last flight on fantasy,
and tells feebly her distraught mother,
‘freeze me and keep me in a cold chamber
in the frail state of suspended animation,
the way you nurtured me with care once
in your protective womb for so many months.
I would live within the dubious domain
between the swathes of life and death,
until they find a cure for the deadly cancer.
Mother, you’d then find in great delight
I emerge as a sprouting little pristine bud
from the transient spell of hibernation,
and bloom in your rejuvenated garden,
my petals enwrapping the beautiful world.
June 2, 2021
Contest : Cancer Ivy
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Before her glassy eyes, crystal bubbles seem
to strangely dance.
Slipping down into the water as deeply as she can,
she revels in the liquid warmth enwrapping her.
Such contrast this is to the crispness of the air around her!
Before running her bath, she felt compelled
to turn off all the heat in the house.
Now she reaches for her glass on the edge of the tub.
Bringing it to her lips, she savors one last time the wine,
her one small taste of "heaven"
from the bottle now lying nearly empty
where it spilled out to wet the floor’s cold tiles.
Very relaxed, she sets the glass back down beside her.
It topples over. The woman hears it shatter. . . yet she lies still.
Intoxicated (as was her plan),
she lays the sharp edge of a razor blade against her wrist.
Making sure to clutch it well,
she slices through veins but feels no pain.
Then the other side. . . Red fluid threads
stream among the fading fizz (all that now remains of the dancing bubbles).
And as she drifts off into numbing unconsciousness,
it dawns on her that her tub has somehow become unplugged!
She is too lightheaded. . . too feeble now to move.
The heated fragrant water slowly and steadily subsides.
A sharp chill invades her body.
With her final breaths, the woman thinks of how her one last plan -
to be discovered immersed completely in water -
has ended up just like every other messed up thing she ever did
and how her plan,
like the water of her "perfect" bath,
has just
gone
down
the damn
proverbial
drain.
7/7/13
A crack in the concrete is a canyon,
a fissure enough to let a slice of green grow
with no gentle hands to cradle the sapling,
no affable soil to support the tender roots.
As the dust settles on the leaves of endurance
like silence enwrapping an abandoned life,
survival is the dispensation of the introvert,
unfolding in a space that’s not meant for life.
Outside, the world is an indistinct panorama,
the scenes move to make an alien array,
encased within the familiar frame of isolation,
where self-shadow is the only companion.
Yet, the weed survives the pangs of desertion alone,
perhaps because existence is the willful rising
to thrive even when no one cares to own,
for, it’s a life defined by what can be endured.
When existence is the emblem of withering forlorn,
after sprouting with the essence of insolence,
helping to bloom lonely life with the touch of hope,
waiting for the spring that’s never promised.
I built a nubile nest for them so we could live together
kept it warm in the long winter time of frost and freeze
no speeding storm of strife could ever sweep it away
where I held them secured within my enwrapping wings.
They grew up nurtured in the cradle of love and care
learned how to build and face life in their chosen way
as a parent the process with them I could affably share
the ephemeral delight lasted till they chose to fly away.
In the flood of the surging river of drowning sadness
I felt the load of loneliness sink deep within my essence
as from the eroded bank of yearning they disappeared
and I heard the distant bell of destiny toll faintly for me.
As the flow of time searched for a course to the eternity
in twilight’s fading gleam I breathed the air of desolation
I heard it whisper the swan song to me on the passing
resonating in my soul with the rhythm of my last sigh.
August 27, 2021
Title Chosen : Last Sigh
Contest : This Or That, Vol 6
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh