Long Etiolated Poems
Long Etiolated Poems. Below are the most popular long Etiolated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Etiolated poems by poem length and keyword.
**~~**
She seemed to be like a delicate portrait
which had fallen from its gilded frame
Abandoned, lying face down on the cold winter floor
An elegant portrait once painted
In resplendent hues of indigo blue
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet
magenta colored sorrows bathed in tears
that etched themselves throughout
The frail intricately, woven canvas of her soul
Over time thoughtless hands had subtly
Contrived to manipulate the beauty
Of her painted portrait into a resemblance
Likened to that of a cold, chiseled statue
Carelessly molded by calloused fingers
Lancinating the fragile fragments
Of her spirit leaving her heart
With etiolated worn fabric - called her life
She dreamed of Icarus soaring down
on silvery wings of steel shrouded
in cobalt and lavender clouds
with outstretched, feathery fingers
lifting her up to dance a Stravinsky ballet
As it was meant to be - not how it was
She was a beautiful, fragile butterfly
bruised by a world much too harsh
for her diminished spirit
leaving her unable to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
making it difficult for her to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
It left her struggling to stay afloat
In the springs melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin
Gnawing away like insatiable insects
On her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling
Like a fabricated manikin on display
For all to pose her as they may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed
through her veins, holding her tethered heart
in fleshy, mounds of chocolate brown earth
It held her helpless in its hold
clogged by the silt which descended down
Into spaces of her soul…
Like murky strings of yellow tattered maize
Leaving their ragged tassels tangled
Throughout her life flowing veins
Choking off the blood she needed
To nourish her hungry heart
Mighty winds toppled her willowy limber tree
Snapping the delicate boughs
Of her outstretched arms
As they pulled at the tender fleshy bark of her skin
She stood cold and alone
In the icy winter night wrapped
Only in her wounded, naked flesh
With open, bleeding wounds
Under the icy blue mist of the winter moon
Her heart and soul painfully revealed...
In shades of indigo blue
**~~**
I understand this
Without lenders there are no borrowers
Without borrowers there are no gain
Of debt multiplying
And without debt
No one can buy nor sell again.
For everyone must want
And makes things
Accessible like products
Spilling, and spilling
Into the endless blackhole
In chase of satisfaction.
For much tax must I sell my vote
Please cut my tax again
I need it for collateral
To edge my loan
My spending keep increasing
It is the drug of the market
The drug of the market
Sellers meeting buyers in my mind
Please cut my tax
And if get broke providing services
And you still need me
To surrender my individuality
To this polity that is the state
Sell some bonds, sell some bonds
Then borrow too from tomorrow
Oops that was slip of the pen
I will not say that plain again
Just print more with power I gave you
But you will not give me back again
Wait, did I do that
What was I thinking in my madness
That has no memory now?
This bond between us is going to be broken
You never cut the tax of the poor
The rich don't hire here any more
The banks are only collecting
Nobody is lending
It is sinister what I feel
Can a man dream for real?
Forecast upon forecast no profit see
Who will tell our fortunes
When crystal ball and goose is dead?
Poor jack, poor jack
His bean stalk etiolated against the sun
Fried like an egg upon the fire.
CLOUDY SKY
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
For acrid are your lies,
And by your rhetoric speech
No more are we enthralled.
For, this perennial drought,
On pages, in archives lies.
For rain to come,
In vain revelry the farmers wait.
For no wages, like a serf in the
Corn field they toil.
Your oath of fealty you scorned
And in the belly of sectarianism
It erodes.
Cloudy sky.
Say no more us
About rain to come
For the seedlings from drought’s
Heat wilt and by the arbor of your
Cloud eclipsed are the dreams of
The saplings, etiolated in gloom
For sunlight they grope.
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
For horrid are your lies.
See,
The fettle faces that cheered
You to the pinnacle now shrink
From dearth. Wane, once glaring
Eyes in their hollow socket cringe.
Languid now are those sprightly
Hands that lifted you from the craddle
To your apogee.
From your wanton revelry the thunder
Claps and into the serenity of the famished
It cuts as with parched throat for the opening
Of the sky’s door for even a trickle they wait.
Gnarled children from famine on the scrawny
Backs of their mothers berth,
And with baleful eyes for them
The scavengers wait.
Cloudy sky.
Say no more to us,
About rain to come.
Form:
It was late in the afternoon
Of the 17th of January 1993
That my whole
Intoxicated universe
Finally exploded
Drink me one day = 10 vodkas
7 1/2 pints 14 wines
1 bottle of wine + 6 gins + 4 pints
Or 2 bottles of wine + halfs then 4 pints
Or bottle of wine + 5 pints +
Cans and shorts
Saw myself as a loonie
Of the Lunatic Underground
It was late in the afternoon
Of the 17th of January 1993
That my whole
Intoxicated universe
Finally exploded
Five + Two = Seven Units By 11.30
12.30 = Six Units 1.30 = 5+2 = Five
Units
6.30 = Four Units 7.30 = 3+2 = Five
Units
8.30 = 4+1 = Five
Units
12.30 = Free
Saw myself as a loonie
Of the Lunatic Underground
It was late in the afternoon
Of the 17th of January 1993
That my whole
Intoxicated universe
Finally exploded
Broken at last
With etiolated face
Tremulous hands
After so many years
Of semi-Icaran hubris
It was late in the afternoon
Of the 17th of January 1993
That my whole
Intoxicated universe
Finally exploded.
O lord, deep sorrows weigh on my heart,
You created me,
Where shall I go?
Without you, To whom would I share my sorrows,
I am a white flower in the garden of Autumn: scentless, colorless, and etiolated.
I too wish to bloom in the garden of verdure.
O lord; embrace and bear hug me,
I am broken, a wanderer, and aimless.
My life is abandoned, everyone. Everyone came.
They bruised, battered, and blighted me, went and left me solo in the garden of Autumn.
My sepals and blanched petals whimper there,
O lord; If you won't rescue me,
I think the white flower may die in the garden in Autumn.
I know I am a colossal sinner and sins have dimmed away my beauty and charm,
I don't want to die being a sinner.
If I died, I would die like a waste then,
If so, how can I stand in front of you? I can't endure it and would feel ashamed.
O lord; look at my garden of Autumn and transform it into the garden of spring.
Let me perform the elegant deeds,
and then I wished to die
Form:
I who am…insipid, vapid bland, inadequate life
My life halfhearted I am uninspired
I am Spiritless in a place of safety refuge
I am for certain, I need,
a deed to land in life and death
How chosen are we
When the blood flows out
Still and solid I am No longer talking
Dead to live be I living
My new home is in the skies
Where I’m alive no longer dead you’re not but I am
No need for heat my God keeps me (safe and warm)
His ever presents how can I be sure ?
When all the time you changed my mind
I asked for more and more
How can I be sure safe, quiet, cozy comfortable in sanctuary?
Secluded withdrawn isolated and safe haven
refuge my sanctuary safe keeping covering me
Preserve yet my cushion life inoculate unworldly securities
Yet still I’m pathetic etiolated blanch reclusive unprivileged
So am I decrease in importance lost significance I’m blench keep safe
11/26/19
Pale shelter Poetry Contest Free verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
For a while now,
I thought I feel no longer.
Transiently this gravity etiolated,
But you, like Optimus Prime
came to my rescue.
Like magnetic flux you appeared,
And lured me into your field.
Now I am lost in your radar,
You give my heart a real beat.
I am Spellbinded.
In my head a tenant you've become,
In my head you are the stars I gaze.
And in my heart a resident you've become
And I hope you won't depart, for you've became my Chum
YOU are my favourite thought of the day,
My Venus in a clear morning.
YOU are my cup of soup,
My latte on a cold day.
You give me the "heebie-jeebies"
Those willies, getting my knees weak.
Selfless as you are,
with the sweetness beyond.
Unmatched you are,
with a smile so contagious
And that is a complete reason why I have a renewed faith in Romance.
Perhaps you are my fairytale.
BLACKBOARD BLUES
I woke up this morning and I had the blues
And the blacks and the Reds and greens whence to choose
In days gone by when boards were black
And teachers weren't wary but on the attack
Chalk was as white as snow filled skies
You could tell a school master by the dust on his flies
But now boards are white and we've ink on our fingers
And the odour of liquor that inculpates and lingers
Use markers that erase and be sure they're never
Permanent and fix your mistakes there forever
You should also remember these pens may be dated
And leave you with writing that's etiolated
With a piece of chalk you would know where you stood
Be it long short or tall it could make its mark good
Then if your mind blanked, went as clean as a whistle
You could turn round, take aim, and launch it as a missile
SERVITUDE TO PRIDE
See,
Our love that once
Like an inferno burnt,
Now, like an ember smolders,
And beyond kindle by pride has become.
Our psyches by pride wreathed, in loneliness
Our hearts writhe and our mirth into myth retracts.
Without,
A serene heart we feign.
But within, our hearts by dusk of pride
Blinded, for each other grope and to the
Melody of the dirge of our fissured
Hearts pride spitefully dance.
For
A faded memory of you
All night i carouse yet for
Your caress I yearn.
Photographs of you and i, my roses
To you, as a sedative into the mire you threw.
But, how come out of your heart you could
Not throw me?
The
Trees of pride, it is palpable,
A fertile soil in our psyches had found,
And under the arbor of their leafy boughs,
Etiolated our hearts berth and for
Sunshine seek.
The blue sky is not heaven
It's not the same thing at all
Dear friends.
We often speak of the firmament of yesteryear
By day, the sky is dazzling like an etiolated flower
Dear friends.
Defying gravity is to soar into the heavens
Where at night, stars and asteroids are numerous
It's the dream, it's imaginary impulses
Where we are stunned, amazed and silent.
We are fascinated by extraordinary tricks
The sky isn't really blue, it's an illusion
Man has a way of making inventions
To satisfy his tellurian and planetary curiosities.
P.S. Translation of” Le Ciel Bleu” by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © September 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.