Long Etches Poems
Long Etches Poems. Below are the most popular long Etches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Etches poems by poem length and keyword.
She was crouched
semi collapsed
no one could touch her
a fire of dignity
would raise from her feet
to lift the line of her chin
determination etches new lines
worry brought
the sweat pig headed pain
corrugating furrows
soldiering on
striking and slashing
at every obstacle
till time had no mind
for her pride
and the spectre
that dogged every fall
every twitch
each scrap of scoundrel death
then her eyes fired
when her body could not
her spirit never diminished
even as she jumped up
to brush poppies in heaven
radiant inscrutability
she was ready
for the next campaign
and leapt
—-
dignity made wings
that now,
soar the stars
in one breath
liberation
I must have encountered her on a hill,
Where scatterings of ferns deepened
Through insolent winds that shivered
While watching her carry a basket of daisies…
She is Loveliness, forlorn in a drowsy pathway,
More forlorn than languid endings
Or all that death can ever reach.
By trying to alienate myself from this image
A weariness brushed on a Dresden face so pale
That the luster in her eyes became stardust ,
While I designed a self-tumbling act as a ploy
To gaze at her closer , oh one divine mystery.
Just there, etches of beauty flatter her hair,
Like a dream capricious as twilight leaving
And in her almond eyes, the moon-flakes glimmer
How by chance, this silhouette found me breathless,
That I did gravitate through her bloom, weakening--
She, an air between death and forever… Loveliness on a hill.
'2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 5' Contest for Mark Toney
Re-submitted 12/18/2018
S'more sprawling poppycock
Chock·a·block discombobulated poem
for your reading pleasure
dashed off ad hoc
my final literary endeavor before
hour hand affixed
to intricately carved cuckoo clock
displaying carved leaves, birds,
deer heads (Jagdstück design),
other animals, aquatic militia man,
etc feigns firing flintlock
(announcing onset of
daylight savings times)
said French soldier christened Jacque
dipping paddles of oarlock
into time stream
as the sun beats down,
he doth shockingly unfrock.
Once again modest wily word wizard
sports, struts his stuff inarguably
a blinding blizzard
of poetic gumbo mumbo jumbo,
his convoluted crafted vizard
easily misinterpreted as offal
lee batty, quirky, snooty, trippy...
who honestly doesn't know A from izzard.
The ticking seconds will not wait
while yours feebly cobbles etches
across blank figurative slate
lame resultant impasse I narrate
experiencing disappointment
earlier spurt of balderdash,
gibberish, rubbish... which I hate
yet must suffice impossible mission
to complete satisfactory poem does agitate.
Vainglorious idea to employ
daylight savings time
even a mediocre reasonable rhyme
futile effort finds current strife prime
juncture to breakaway
and resume later nighttime or
call writing aspiration quits
crowded house that for being sublime?
Unlikely literary pursuit or aim
will find yours truly a best seller
never experiencing accolades
nor remuneration to claim
truth be told, cuz I haint seeking
neither fortune nor fame.
The principle impetus explaining zeal
to discipline generic human to hone
his ability, where basic blocks of English
language (words) linkedin incorporating
mental cogs and gears mesh
making (mishmash) as figurative wheel
in the sky keeps on turning
perhaps divine intervention
intercedes as yours truly takes
lock, stock, and barrel of himself, one
bumbling, grumbling, tumbling schlemiel
cue hapless characteristic vagrant tramp
as viewed courtesy black and white newsreel
enroute to meet cobbler, cuz worn out heel
actually kind individual stopped to offer hobo
an uber lyft courtesy fancy automobile.
When the smoke ascends, let my passing be
With Some late angels accompanying me
Into the halo of a Splendid sea
And the long-awaited days of eternity.
The Forlorn years had grown quieter,
With every shadow passing their hour
At night, the skies looked even darker
By day I could only hear a faint Twitter.
My benediction lingers as in patience,
And weariness etches upon my face
The grizzled old influence of grace
Ending an age, an epoch with peace
The purple smoke of sundown ascends,
In the winding columns of quieter clouds
I see the days with changing moods
Going down inspiring darkening shrouds.
Memories stay alive while the world goes on
In the sense of another new horizon.
Sundown with her vast silhouette ocean
And the gift of romance and passion.
The waves lapped and rolled together
thrilled with a sense of adventure
my task accomplished, and the serenity gather
to let me go and join the heavenly choir.
Chalk Life
White chalk against the black board of life etches out
A soul that has no molecules to do so viably
Like a virus that has no real life of its own
Must seek out something else to define solidity in being
A hand to grasp what it is or it is not
Chalk can not talk
Is that discriminating?
Some say it is not as interesting as a man
A hand must move it along the edges of the mind
Be kind to your chalk when you are talking
Philosophy is not chalks favorite subject
Black chalk on black boards is even harder
To read into the state of being human
Something we can say definitively
Chalk is not
Effigy formed of inert dust,
Inhaled the divine pulse, vile vine
Infused with worth and dignity.
I'm not! I'm not! Fallen from grace;
I frown at my rueful bungle.
Sad to strut, my honor swishes
Shame; dark crusted conscience
Hangs on me; keeps paling my worth
Till I yell at Christ's open arms
For return of the gone glory,
So dear, the present, a shadow.
Years in the fire, self-refining,
Yielded scum, dross, a dull shine.
If I should have another chance,
Revert to the noble state I'd lost,
My heart could be tanned rainbow.
A dove cranes on a perch, offset
Against the blue, croons in the wind,
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?
Yet I battle with baneful pride,
Scorn the grace, the courting nocturne.
No end to my nice now, I wow.
Quite unequalled, I'll ever be.
The bell tolls for others, each time
Softer; the whir of a whirling world.
The sun keeps her scoot; stars, their stroll.
Summer smiles; winter whines, sulks.
Time etches against my proud form.
The bell! Sounds like tolling closer—
Jangling, ruffling... nettling.
Yet my pride... my pride sticks,
Lances the chance to begin again.
© 2015 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Winter dark...solstice etches itself
on texture of bleak silhouette
ebon in fervor...cycle’s lymph
grips the inked winds halving the cleft
between old eve and fresh sunset
as morn falls on dry ice...asleep,
yet kismet unlocks ...creatures reap
harvest of new moon’s oath...to keep.
We call to you oh Mother Night
through dances bold... in purity,
a circle cast in pearled delight
from dusks impressed by sanctity
our candles burn for life’s bounty
lyrics ole trill...magic-soft
elements fuse...an alchemy
of holly sheen to ride aloft.
Freyja, one with Mary...bewitch
within the dark of darkest night
we dance the fire with trimmings rich,
your blessed radiance... stars ignite
as womb brings forth...a child of light
one tender spirit filled with worth
a promise of new Yuletide bright
the gift of word...made flesh...son’s birth!
....... ... ........
Happy Holidays of Debbie Guzzi
by nette onclaud
Modranith:Freyja ( Norse Goddess
associated with Mothers' Night)
* end /near rhymes intended
Carmine, crimson, vermillion, and cerise,
dapple canopies of emerald green.
And the ground morphs into a golden fleece;
as yellow, orange, gold, and tangerine,
mark a pathway south for migrating geese.
Autumn's beauty can take one's breath away:
like Spring; it's a colorful time of year.
And when pigments and breezes interplay,
abstract mosaics begin to appear:
while fallen leaves get blown in disarray.
Alabaster hoarfrost dusts the landscape;
as Jack Frost etches swirls on windowpanes.
And Autumn's as barren as a moonscape
when skeletal trees are all that remains;
of Fall's colorful fantasy dreamscape.
Written: March 31st, 2025, for contest, Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
************
After basking in yesterday's afterglow,
I divested my vestments
to shift in cognitive mindset.
I stroll toward the horizon.
where the azure sky
embraces the vast sea blue.
Waves dance.
With silvered clouds,
Creating an orchestra
The wind and light are present.
Sallow shadows scintillate.
In Moonlight Melodies...
As dusk settles,
casting a shimmering awe that echoes of
The splendor of the galaxies abounds.
In every breath,
A promise resonates,
to the dawn
that dwells within me.
Gliding on golden wings
a sovereign among the kings
As light swirls beneath the Milky Way,
The cosmos shines brilliantly.
In a pearly gown.
Angels slide,
Unleashing their power
to restore their lost throne.
With flickering wings,
Wield the sword of stone
their footsteps inscribe
a path of golden light,
As they conquer the onyx depths
of an obsidian night.
Loving blasts their souls.
angel wings shake in sadness,
where grief and despair are hefty,
seeking an aerial citrine nirvana
I recall it sharply,
as if it were yesterday,
Tears mar the silky pillows.
as honeysuckle
It oozes from eager lips. —
There is a longing for satisfaction.
Lipstick etches its mark.
He left an imprint on his bare skin.
Even now, those intertwined chains
of Memory ensnares me.,
As well-oiled fingers traverse
the curves of the sensuous body,
ordinary yet glowing in the sunlight,
filled with a relentless passion.
Nervous tension shattered,
striking, akin to a diamond on ebony velvet.
As her body warmed and became silky,
Her lips melted and tasted delicious.
They expressed love ardently.
and hugged fervently.
swept up in passion and longing,
wishing the moment might last forever,
cocooned in each other's arms,
and felt blissfully pleased,
Polishing words into gems,
dusted garnet, with sunset slips
In citrine clouds cast
There was a ray of magenta skies.
I wish for unending delight.
and utter bliss in the afterglow.
I soak in his charcoal fingers drenching my buds
when nightfall rips the hem of my skin,
a coral fire glazes upon our mouths
and the lion in him kneads flammable
grinds: that the soaring heat in lilac glare,
in fragrant sweat of navajo curves;
ripen the mounds along a bodice trembling …
Once, twice, thrice with gentle fondness
crawling on outstretched harlequin dome--
in the lure of amber moon dipping—we
could not speak beyond walls in ash etches …
and like hungry souls let loose by sapphire mist,
the ginger sweetness of craving
finally explodes on hammock’s ruby-like gyre.
Silent One’s United Colors: Colourfication
................
Charcoal, coral, lilac navajo, harlequin,
amber, ash, sapphire, ginger, ruby
3/16/2016