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.
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.
Bulky blue-purple bottle
Rounded and smooth
Sharp etches of gold
It’s heavy
But the weight is comforting
You can smell the musk from a foot away-
Without even spraying a spirits
Sprayed on a stuffed mouse
Doused on a t-shirt ball-
Wrapped with an engraved chain
Vivian
What's that smell–
Is asked
Or thought
To them it smells old
Like musk
Like dust
Like something forgotten on the top shelf at the back of the closet
Pungent
Like a moth eaten piece of lace
What’s that smell-
To her it smells like comfort
Like a warm arms caress and a lullaby
Like childhood before the self awarenesses
Soothing
Like the memories that play over and over on a sleepless night
Like summertime soaked in chlorine and pollen
Like winter draped in pajamas and garland
A musk
A memory
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.
Dappled twilight etches broken shadows
Wandering mountain breeze rustles the leaves
Last flocks of birds wing back to their nests
Evening turns grey with the sun sneaking out of sight
Mind too darkens with fears illusory and real
Emotionally drained and heart broken
Feeling trapped and ensnared in the confines of homes
Life is no longer the way it used to be
An unseen killer- Corona virus is striding nonchalant
Dust of silence settles on cobalt streets
They lie vacant without the thud of hurrying feet
People lock inside, grateful for just being alive
Without a touch, a hug or even a word of farewell
Human bodies are licked by flames in forlorn pyres
Sadly they are deserted as contagious garbage
Unclaimed even by the nearest, demanding quick disposal
Night seems endless, caught in a web of diabolic desolation
All that surrounds is silence and we play a losing game
At what point in time will this maze come to a stop?
When will we come out from whirls of dark to swirls of light?
31 Dec. 2021
Corona virus( Covid. 19) Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Robert James Liguori
saguaros
guardians of the sonora
a battalion wafting
in one hundred degree heat
standing sentry on granite slopes
vertical green etches
in carmel cliffs
literally--litter the foothills
rising up the mountain
saguaros fall away
ocotillos remain
their leafy tentacles flailing
like upside down tarantulas
dotting the crevices and shelves
along with mexican oak
climbing higher
ocotillo give way
to arizona cypress, alligator juniper,
and too many nondeciduous oaks to name
desert? what desert?
temperature's dropped to sixty four
at six thousand feet
aspen and maple emerge
a little further
along come all the conifers
tall dark forests of
douglas fir and ponderosa pine
nearing the summit there's...
snow? not snow. in august?
no, not snow. really?
nine thousand feet
corkbark fir and a
couple of spruce
it's now a cool
fifty two
town on top
we stop
baby needs hoody
and hot chocolate
grandpa needs
to fathom it all
fifty miles,
six thousand five hundred feet
below
it's one hundred and three
sky island
not overrated
Strolling down memory lane as a saxophone plays
a haunting melody, notes floating like ghostly dreams
as time meanders like a river through eternity
Love etches its way into the heart of eternity
With melodies of a violin, so bittersweet it plays
For sometimes it ends in broken hearts and dreams
Musical refrains take me farther into surreal dreams
As I try to decipher metaphors flowing into eternity
But the tune still echoes through my memory as it plays
Melodic memories plays into the rhythmic dreams of eternity
2-13-19
A Tritina For Messina Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Festive party
Celebrate something;
Warm humanity
~~~~~~~~~
One by one
People walk pass;
Lonely man waits
~~~~~~~~~
Dog walking fast
Master in tow;
Barks fine command
~~~~~~~~~
Two sparrows
Practice on wood bench;
Gospel of birdsong
~~~~~~~~~
Sea of faces
Hurry takes a break;
Crowded lift hijacks
~~~~~~~~~
Old shop houses
New paintwork shines;
Ancient looks new
~~~~~~~~~
River walk terrace
Rows of watering holes;
Tipsy aftermath
~~~~~~~~~
Financial centre lobby
Bust of The Thinker;
Auguste Rodin figures
~~~~~~~~~
Play primal proof
Watcher glimpses;
Stillness resonates
~~~~~~~~~
Sea waves bleach
Sand grains moist;
Salty gems sparkle
~~~~~~~~~
Telephone connects
Bridge distant spheres;
Familiar voices tint
~~~~~~~~~
Small little girl
Don't grow up;
Beauty is fleeting
~~~~~~~~~
Old hunchback lady
Lifetime of toil;
Time shows up
~~~~~~~~~
Moody man mumbles
Talks to a ghost;
Moving picture
~~~~~~~~~
Song of the sea
Windy ode unspoken;
Fleeting echoes
~~~~~~~~~
Morning psalm
Skyline hues delight;
God speaks in colours
~~~~~~~~~
Too quickly time fades
Moments on the wind;
Zen in bamboo
~~~~~~~~~
Do you hear
Whispers unseen;
Emergent rapture
~~~~~~~~~
Bougainvilleas here
Beauty in bounty;
Dazzling colours speak
~~~~~~~~~
Plumerias sparkle
Words cannot reach;
Soul wanders here
~~~~~~~~~
Tears in your eyes
Exquisite pain;
Etches new lines
~~~~~~~~~
Haunted house
Bizarre rumours taunt;
Unfinished business
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
24 May 2015
Singapore
(Dedication: For Dorian Petersen Potter)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Style sparks fond play,
Apt as sure light;
Love shows the way,
Urge happy sights;
Touch a deep core,
Endear some more.
Dance with the wind,
Observe the light;
Rouse joys unseen,
Indulge fond sights;
Align sure heart,
Note cheery start.
Play with sure craft,
Enlist your mind;
Thought in full draft,
Etches most kind;
Reap sure enough,
Sense peace of mind;
Explore grand dreams,
Now fling bold themes.
Prime your finesse,
Opt to be clear;
Thrill happiness,
Taste your fond cheer;
Engage verse play,
Rest between say.
Leon Enriquez
20 January 2015
Singapore
Abandoned and Forgotten
Days bleeding into nights
Shackled to the ticking of endless nights,
Silence screams, a chorus of lonely nights.
Shadows dance on walls, mocking and frights,
As seconds bleed into a lifetime of fearing of the future take.? Of what decisions shall I make? Loneliness etches itself into once-smooth skin, leaving lines of despair etched deep within.
Deserted halls echo with questions untold,
"Why?" "When? Where did it fold?
Years crawl by, chains of solitude
binding tighter still prolude,
Hope flickers faint, a dying ember's last fight,
Can dawn break through the gloom that chokes the air within its bloom?
Or am I destined to weather here in despair, buried in this affair in it's might?But there are no replies, only the ceaseless hum of empty lies, The mirror reflects a stranger's gaze, eyes hollow and haunted, a silent scream trapped within.
So let me seize that flame, fan it bright,
Banish the shadows that plague my sight.
I choose to rise above this prison of despair,
To seek the light, to breathe the healing air.
No longer bound by echoes of yesterday,
I'll forge ahead, come what may someday?
And though the path may wind and turn away,
My spirit stirs, ready to yearn another day, Everlasting this solitude of pain. the sun will rise again,
Guiding me towards a brighter horizon, a new begin.
Claws of solitude rip, unyielding,
Yet embers of defiance smolder willding.
Through suffocating shadows, a whisper persists within Familiar spaces twisted remonist by solitude's cruel whim.
"I will endure within?
Bonds of sorrow may constrict,
Though silken threads of memory restrict, entwine melodys of hearts shattered. Remembering what most mattered,
Shackled by time's relentless march,
Solitude's talons score and scarch.
Yet within this cell of shadow cast,
An ember sparks, defiantly vast.
Hoping this shall not be my last.
Tempest the rage of my past.
5/4/2024, Vaishali, Bihar
In a society where I live,
Pride is a class identity,
And pain is a class identity again.
The color of people is cast
Into white, brown, and black,
All shades of the same soil.
People born as kings, servants, or watchdogs.
I live in a village of divided lands—
Bhumihar fields, Mallah shores, Nunia, Teli, Sonar,
Brahman, Rajput, split like crops on the farm.
I belong to the Nai—
A class of servants, kings, and watchdogs, all in one.
The air hums with stories of the Nanda Dynasty,
Pride wrapped around our class like armor.
Yet, sorrow lingers in the gaze of those
Whose eyes are heavy with dirtied dreams.
I live in a society where identity is seen
In color, cloth, and words—
Old roots buried deep like the broken tree
By Abhishek Pushkarini,
Which falls, like us, at the feet of the upper class.
My tearful words often seem lost,
As each passing day etches more pain into hearts.
But these small hands carry the strength to resist
The cruel stares of a classed society.
In a society where I live,
Pride is a class identity.