Long Ephemeral Poems
Long Ephemeral Poems. Below are the most popular long Ephemeral by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ephemeral poems by poem length and keyword.
It's too late, beloved, for our dream shattered,
Under the night sky, chimeras have us buried,
Intoxicated with illusions, wrapped in cigarette perfume,
On deserted streets, we are shadows of dreams unfulfilled.
We're lost in the labyrinth of forgotten corners,
Us, wax figures melted in the moonlight,
Bodies scorched by the flame of silent incapabilities,
In this dance of forgetfulness, against an outdated backdrop.
Oh, times, oh, mores, what fate has been decreed?
In this vain search, what meaning have we let slip?
I look for you at dusk, I lose myself in wanderings,
We flail in the silence of an anachronistic time, with no way out.
Time runs, but to where, it no longer knows,
Its patience worn thin by our tribulations,
My abulia and passivity, will they yet endure?
Is there still room for a drop of romance, one last poem?
Too late for romance, too late for dreaming,
Too late for you, too late for me,
In this twilight, the ephemeral takes its leave,
For infinity, we remain unfinished, uncommenced.
Too early for hopes, too late for regrets,
In our own late hour, all seems lost,
Too late for new beginnings, too early for endings,
In this dance of fate, amor fati is our final chorus.
And so, in the silence of the night, we fade into the void,
Our love, a shattered dream, an echo of the past,
In this fleeting world, we remain just two strangers,
Lost in time, lost in ourselves, lost in everything.
Rhythms and Rubble Contest 7-29-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One White Rose Reverie
I wander deep into argent airs,
Ascending anthems birthed in alabaster,
Into the incandescent magic
Of one white rose
Clothed in creamy flesh
Christened with dewdrops like moonstones
Swirling with ivory measures of bewitched fire.
Spellbound I sink bewitched
Into an ark of opalescent oratorios
Drawn into a pale chrysalis
Colored by the colors of first-born grace
In hues of stardust
And the litter of moonbeams
The cool touch of a snowy white kiss.
Ecstasy drips in reveries from ivory petals
Where I take my first breath
In the melodic meter
Of her delicate rhythms and rhythmic rhymes
Her perfume enchanting my crystal cradle
Rocking on webs woven
In lilting lyrics of luminescence.
I revel in the summer’s birthstone
That glows like moon drops
In her siren’s silver call to serenity’s stanzas
Sung in ephemeral moonlight,
Caught like a jeweled enigma,
The rose reflects light and shadows
In my summer’s sweetest slumbers.
Gathered into a bouquet of one
She wears a stainless face of grace,
And leaves a snow-white kiss
In my midnight rhapsodies and raptures
Melodic maiden sprinkles crystal rose dust
In concerts of preludes – prophecies waiting to bloom –
And her chaste carols sung upon her strong stem.
Sumptuous feasts enchanted float on by,
as I peer into an opulent expanse,
garnet clad entrance aglow,
imagine august beauty at its mise en scène peak,
ingress to celestial nirvana’s Laurel-ridden charm,
iridescent veil of cirrus nebula,
window blind ephemeral in situ,
rapid inkling’s meteoric shower,
harvest for the milk and honey bard,
goes beyond elysium horizons,
flight of fancy totem, utter breathless oath,
unearthly surreal lustrous cache,
burst of universal zenith trumpeting,
exalted plot as moonbeam step stair,
just imagine for a spell psalmodic Meccas,
to a hue-laden whirlpool vortex,
that sequesters sun-drenched harbours,
gurgling stream meanders, moss-fleck tides,
mesmerizing shroud of lambent bayou,
hazy plume on silver waterfall,
scarab mountain chain at sapphire dawn,
whose jewel-rich seams glisten enigmatically,
indigo blue species, bold passerine upsweep,
wayfarer halcyon Xanadu bound,
urban forest blackcap’s luscious throb,
snowbird glee club ear chant for
sprightly day-peep first rank,
amber leaf cascade a sequined duvet on barren playground,
rainbow eucalyptus but a foil for sylvan zephyr,
crystal ball elixir knows no quench or glut,
imagine life eternal in my wonder world cocoon
Date written and posted ; Second of March 2023
Contest ; Writing Challenge - I Words - ‘ Poetry Contest
Sponsor ; Constance La France
It Must Begin With
And who knows for certain when reality fades into fantasy,
What starts the sylvan sliding, something so beautiful that,
You question the state of being real in this universe,
Everything becomes more radiant, bolder, more perfect than the dream,
Or on the dark side, things are indescribably grotesque.
The chilling evil, the claws with terrifying wings that beat,
Over your dreams to haunt you like demons from the abyss,
Nature itself is fantasy, its flowers that take your breath away,
The stars, the shells, the magnificent trees and yet it also has,
The ugliest lizards, snakes, spiders and insects to terrorize.
Because we need fantasy to understand our true self,
To navigate through the labyrinth of our fragmented consciousness,
Where the beautiful and the hideous dance in perfect symbiosis,
Creating the kaleidoscope of our existence in psychedelic colors,
And reality becomes just an illusion in the theater of our mind.
The sylvan sliding carries us through the forests of the subconscious,
Where each leaf is a memory crystallized in time,
And each shadow hides secrets we dare not name,
The fantastic becomes the refuge where the soul finds its peace,
While reality remains a prisoner in the cage of logic.
It must begin with the acceptance that everything is dream within dream,
That beauty and horror are twin sisters in the cosmic dance,
Nature offers us the mirror in which we see ourselves dual and whole,
And only through fantasy can we touch the purest essence,
Of what we truly are in this ephemeral existence.
Night of Aurora
Dance of Life -
Night of Aurora before the midnight sun,
Before the polar threshold of the daystar,
As Aurora’s swirling spirals flicker
In winsome purple-green electric flashes,
Dappled spectral neon scarves
From nighttide’s celestial dust,
Dance of barefoot soul bewitched -
Arrayed in fiery folds of scarlet-red
Leaps from star to star
When snow buntings chant
Artic serenades with her melody
As silence falls in silver solitude
Of flashing silent symphonies
Across philharmonic fantasies –
Dance of the artic
Beauty in diaphanous neon,
Ephemeral bursts of celestial streamers
Surge from astral pavilions,
Splash in sheer waves of gossamer mauve,
When lavender prisms pirouette
In charged rhapsodies over the fair isles
With sweeping pirouettes
Dance of the ancestors –
Ethereal ribbon dance in cascading rainbows
To tell tidings of sonorous harmony
From those released past the limits of the sky
They wear kaleidoscopes of happy hues
While Aurora dances a tarantella to say
She rejoices too.
11-17-22
Checked the Thesaurus for the spelling of “nighttide.”
Twenty-nine lines of poetry
Contest: Poetry Marathon - Mile 22
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Another typical insipid day
the sweet, crimson glowing ember
falling revealing the lustrous serenity
of kaleidoscopic skies
Elysian whispers around
my remaining canvas of arid
Gossamer and prosaic filled voids
replaces citrine, saffron nirvana
Bodies surrounding shimmer effulgent colors
I'm yet to remain in my dull ashen-sparked cave
A sudden delirious shriek
gleeful, exuberant faces
twisted into pale onyx terror
An apocalyptic doomsday guaranteed
Terminal of mankind ; destruction of
of earth prophesied
Everyone's glistening resplendent canvases
splattered grim trepidation
Painted with oblivion; like mine
with included kneaded dollops of overwrought
Perhaps the revolutionary, prodigious hysteria
sparked fluorescent inspiration
My ebony pedestrian now being sparkled
in an euphoric nostalgic feeling
A persistent voice echoing;
...
An exploded erosion of scarlet filled emotions
I clutch my brush and become the creator I once was;
Amongst the cacophonic abyss
painting an ephemeral, nebulous word
into my perennial realms of cerulean hopes
Brushstrokes of light touched canary among daffodil fields
Turning into shapes of radiant marigold inspiration
painted over leftovers of monotonous drab
In the end's haunting echo of emptiness
I found my exuberant-buttercup passions of a sunlit meadow
My bolstering voice of ivory whispered inspirations
I am an azure propelling star among cobalt filled echoes
of forgotten melodies
I've reimagined my painted chiaroscuro perspectives,
crafting a bold artistic masterpiece
The Valley of Loss
My dear, we've run out of words, I see
Calm is the garden except your tree
A cherry blossom dying in my mind
Now barren of pink in Spring's glee
How can our moons bled into the night
And our rooting take plight
Why could I never touch your blossoms
For your garden gate shut tight
Somehow our ducks didn't line true
For one year our pond was shady of blue
Filled with decoys of reality
With ephemeral winds shaking our rue
My dear, we swam circles in that pond
With you ducking my fondness and bond
Our days growing shorter and colder
The peaking sunshine never dawned
Oh how I wish our paths didn't fork
And the tines of our love had torque
Carrying us to the door of our hearts
Where bubbling sweetness uncork
Dear, your piano man now leaves the room
His ivories look and sound of gloom
On his shoulders rest memories of you
A cherry blossom entomb
11/14/17
Empty Your Soul With Words - Poetry Contest
I give up.
On paths where mountains meet the infinite sky,
Where poets weave their dreams, where eagles fly unafraid,
Lies a hidden corner of paradise, far from the eyes of the world,
There, silver clouds weave their stories with the moon.
Lift your gaze to the snow-capped peaks,
Where the future unfolds like an endless fairy tale.
Whisper your dreams and let them rise,
To those venerable mountains, guardians of time and mystery.
Mountaineers begin their journey, with hope in their hearts,
To the place where mountains embrace the blue sky.
Take me there, to that fairy tale world,
Where time stands still and dreams become reality.
Where the sea merges with the infinite sky,
Where mermaids sing their tales, where seagulls dance in the wind,
A realm of dreams, where anything is possible,
Where every wave hides a story, a secret of the universe.
Beyond the horizon, where the sky meets the sea,
Opens a world full of possibilities and magic.
Beyond the ephemeral castles of sand,
Lies the promise of a tomorrow full of hope.
Only brave hearts can reach this realm,
Where the ocean and the sky unite their destinies.
Take me to that world, where dreams come to life,
Where every moment is a gift, a magical moment.
In the heart of the forest, where trees touch the sky,
Lies a sanctuary of dreams, a place where everything is possible.
There, dreams become reality, and reality becomes a dream,
A place where magic is at home, and where the heart feels free.
Dream, dreamer, and let yourself be carried by magic,
Into a world where everything is possible, where dreams become reality.
Take me there, to that fairy tale world,
Where my heart can dream freely, and where my soul can be set free.
I believe in God’s power* midst crises
Since no disaster can shut His grace-forces.
In such state, I need foremost the Bible
Scriptures anchor my faith to be stable.
Medicines serve as great necessities
To combat blood pressure’s adversities.
Vitally important are documents
For social and financial engagements.
Hygiene kit plus sanitizer’s fullness
Shouts “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
Money, though ephemeral, meets my needs
Securing welfare while the mouth it feeds.
Gadgets which become my helpful buddies
Must stay handy as essential goodies.
Grateful am I for each grace-packed food box
Supplies with the Lord’s blessing bounty-stocks.
Above all is earnest soul’s prayer might
Trusting Christ to uphold me in my plight.
Hope in the Saviour brings peace to my heart
Reviving spirit, braced by joy’s rampart.
*1Corinthians 2:5 That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.
May 2, 2020
5th place, "Couplet- any theme, any length" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart; judged on 5/4/2020.
f o r g i v e n e s s
is the window
to unknot the twigs of tainted trees,
where cuffed anklets
around the star-struck skin of
seraphic silhouettes
feel the suppressed sighs
of the ice-moon,
while
cocooned in a nest
of clamorous clouds,
blanketing rivers of love
flowing within
the esoteric orb,
like the raining snowdrops,
designing a bed of purity and humility,
to rinse the remnants of
stinging sorrow,
pricking thin feathers of phoenix wings
in compassionate clemency,
sealed in envelopes
carrying inked veins of a
weeping violin...
and as the city lights
adorn the panoramic view
of this bleeding boulevard,
I search for a verb
that hides between verses,
woven from heartbeats
of you and I
from pools of poems
poignantly painted
within closed pores
of persimmon pages,
locked with glimpses and polaroids
of
unscripted
t o m o r r o w
that only the soul of swirling
comets
can decipher~
for this is a tale
of peacock butterflies,
mirroring blue-ringed topaz,
like hibernating eyes
that seek not
ephemeral effervescence
jinxed by the touch of
two-faced artists,
performing hypocrisy
in perfect tenor,
like alchemists
dressed
in neon fairy lights.
So take these words
as memoirs of m e r c y
this soul is the soil~
where chamomiles bloom
in the glass garden
of forget-me-nots,
as my mind is
a beloved heritage,
awaiting drizzling rays
condensed with contentment;
a tempest
sedated and subdued
in
ultraviolet grace…