Long Feather Poems
Long Feather Poems. Below are the most popular long Feather by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Feather poems by poem length and keyword.
12 when I wrote this, from the perspective of a mushroom.
My gills grasping at air, but the grass is not too far;
My scales glimmering stupidly to shine through watered tar.
And in the gaseous tarmac world, I shine here far too bright,
And oh, the air, too stale if for my gills to get it right.
I long to build a house and make a living off of sticks,
Press flowers to make bookmarks. Feather ink dips.
And for one day, to hear ... a knocking or a rattle
Of rats and pigeons at my door. To me, should they grapple
I wished to fly away with birds, claws ripping flesh and all
To find my new roots in the sky: frail, delicate, tall.
I wished to burrow in the ground when I must collapse.
I wish to hide me from the world. I wish for a relapse.
A tingle down my stem, my gills no longer pulchrify
My dirtied shine, my residue: I tell you, "eye for eye."
This vivid tarmac world around me, perfectly reflecting
How little you appreciated when we were worth defending.
Myrtle Parker
Myrtle Parker lived on the Riviera,
That’s the English one not the French.
Her favourite tipple is Red Currant Cider,
Only beverage her thirst would quench.
Never did she marry no husband,
Preference for life single and free,
Though kept two doggy companions,
Twin Westies, Florence and Zebedee.
Miss Parker was a gatherer and hoarder,
Antiques, curios, lots of impractical tat.
Her catchphrase was somewhat familiar,
“I‘ll find a good use for that.”
Tumbledown Cottage name on the gate,
Aptly called for badly required repair.
The man from Devonshire Council,
Shakes his head in anguished despair.
Oh, dear Myrtle what are we to do,
I cannot see the wood for the trees,
Environment Officer is calling today,
He doesn’t like cockroach and fleas.
Myrtle lives close to Muscle shell beach,
Small cove of shingle and coarse sand,
Opposite the Cat protection league,
Where she buys new clothes second hand.
One summer had a house full of Kittens,
That grew into fully grown cats.
They left her in search of new comforts,
Plagued by visits of large rodent rats.
Myrtle decided on a radical clear out,
To make way for a new feather bed,
But could not let go of her treasures,
So continued sleeping on the sofa instead.
Seventy years old, obstinate and proud,
Devon Council man returned to her door.
“This house is making you poorly my dear,
Regretfully you cannot live here anymore.
Oh, dear Myrtle here’s what we’ll do,
Move you into a comfy town flat,
Environment Officer is calling today,
Condemn your cottage, so sorry about that.
Myrtle Parker was born in this house,
Her father he worked on the boats,
Mother stayed home baking bread,
From freshly ground buckwheat groats.
Tumbledown cottage is full of memories,
Though can’t find many for the clutter.
Diminutive rooms two up two down,
Walls dampened by broken pipe gutter.
If I have to go then take me in a box,
She chained herself to the newel post.
I’ll defend my rights for all I’m worth,
Then haunt Council man as his ghost.
Council man arrives excited with keys,
For Miss Parkers new urban home,
But Myrtle had been true to her word,
and perished on the staircase all alone.
Oh, dear Myrtle what have you done,
Your new flat was shiny and clean,
Environment Officer is calling today,
Demolition boss with bulldozer team.
This boy must be in season,
this blaze-headed feather jack
hammering shack up condos
into swooned oaks, sautéing up fire
ants for a seductive nibble in the pulp.
You can hear him all over the island
a mating pummel; his peckered pocks
embarrass us along our saunters
such a committed pecker, this woody,
drilling wood, making mating dust
around your mailbox by the road,
out there, an exhibitionist hammering
Nessum Dorma’s into the timber,
belting away at his craft;
his hard wired love gut
to persist, and the fade out
of us jaded human shucks,
looking through our
windshields at such wide
wondering howls
in the dead of the wood.
In the evenings twilight gloaming
daytime changelings cease their roaming
place acorn hats upon their heads
lay down in hidden feather beds.
Some sleep while others shake in fear
as blackness comes so ever near,
and beasties you should never see
will search the night for me and thee.
Strange sounds break silence of the night
as darkness takes away your sight.
Scuffles, howls, a sickening moan;
echoes that chill you to the bone.
When, if you sleep, they stay with you
they live within you through and through;
the beasties you should never see
who search the night for me and thee.
The cockcrow is some distance yet
more demons you have not yet met.
Night seems much longer than a day;
that moment when the changelings play.
Is that the creaking of the stairs?
You quickly say your hasty prayers
that beasties you should never see
don’t search the night for me and thee.
coin of family
From the thought to stand with
new dreams,i took a step to reach
the peak of my dream
But fall always with the reason of
arrogant nature with fake promises
to understand my dreams by the
stupid coin of family
pattern of society but knowledge
& status of poor bring me down
Father bring to force me live
like his own path which is called
by the sense of coin of family
Mother bring the pain of poverty
is the other side of coin of family
My days are crying for the day
when they understand the feather
of my nest
coin of family
With love all
Jagdish bajantri
Form:
If countless waves roar in ocean of life,
Each therein born that lives, sinks unto it,
Whose bond with the rest but for flash is rife
Whilst that with ocean for lifelong is lit--
A truth, so clear and still so hard to see,
And so am I the part of Supreme Soul…
Two birds of feather dwelling on a tree,
So close and still apart-- a part and whole,
One pecking at sweet and sour karmic fruits,
A pendulum as if swinging for good,
From joy to grief were I to know no roots
With my twain O to brood in solitude
Until one day this delusion hast gone
And with it dawns from dark my life’s new dawn.
________________________________
Musings | 02.07.2026 | birds, ocean, spiritual, tree, waves, Sonnet
Note: This sonnet is in continuation from the preceding one: Him, truly mine if I know not. It draws from two verses from Mundak Upanishad: 3.1.1 and 3.1.2. Same verses are also found in Shveta-ashva-tara Upanishad: 4.6 and 4.7.
The yellow neon sign casted a glow upon his chiselled cheekbones as the bustling sounds of a city that never slept droned on.
He carried his troubles with him, like a worn out cloak, weighing him down in his every step. His mind was entwined in a thorny thicket.
He has been haunted and bewildered since his introduction to her in a smoky speakeasy.
She was a siren shadow amongst strangers of the night, whispering his name in the breeze, intoxicating his psyche with a tempestuous flame.
She entangled him in a perilous dance, playing a game of chance.
Their encounters were like unbridled wildfires. She captivated him, consuming his soul with her potent allure. He felt engulfed, delicate as a feather in a storm, swept away by her force.
However he was a moth enticed by a relentless flame, she incinerated his dreams and made him feel hopeless. In the end, he succumbed to the hounds of disassociated reality.
His story concluded in tragedy, leaving his loved ones cries to echo through the empty streets of a heartless city.
Oh little Krishna!
My ink sprinkles in hues of devout love
as your glory I pen in reverence
My eyes forget to blink: spellbound
Oh! the sparkle in those little lotus eyes
My mind's music magically blooms
and sings in praise - your beauty and grace
as your mor mukut gently moves
when tiny legs dance in glee
Do You know...
the soul of silence seeks to remain silent
and merge with your pure divine self:
Is it a stillness so craftily created
to respond to thy call of Divine Bliss?
Or is it a crave to melt in your mellifluous music
as your flute tune wafts in soft wind?
A moment when
the steps of time will slow and stop:
just for a moment
and the entire universe will gaze in awe
entranced by its enchantment...
Oh my little Krishna...
Date: 08/30/2021
Your Favorite August 2021 Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Note:
Mor mukut is the peacock feather crown that adorns Lord Krishna's head.
CRYSTAL CLEAR*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The boat, a gentle wanderer, seems to float on air,
its hull a feather, its wake a sigh.
its purpose is simple—
to float, to wander,
to trace the edges of sky and sea,
where clarity reigns.
I step into the boat gliding through this liquid dream,
where water glistens crystal clear.
I lean over the edge,
fingers trailing in the cool embrace.
The calm depths are alive with secrets,
the fish darting like my thoughts.
I am weightless, floating through my days,
unburdened by the past,
unfettered by the future,
each breath a buoy,
each heartbeat a sail,
catching the wind of now.
In this clarity,
I found my joy,
the simple grace of being,
the beauty of connection,
as I navigate the waters
of my own heart.
And the boat with its soft swaying,
carries me onward,
into the brilliance of today.
I revel in the light, celebrating this simple truth~
Joy is a vessel, and I am the sailor
of my own delight
*This poem was recently published at Writer Monk (titled "Floating Through Clarity, July 2025), as an entry into its weekly Poesy & Poise Contest, a flash poetry contest.
I luv this moment of being able to flee with sunlit glee
I luv when you adore me and hold me
Hold unto me...you just got to hold on...
I'm the dusk and you are the break of dawn
I can see the end drawing nearer and nearer
Horrified, staring into the mirror, mirror...
Then I grin at your picture, looking back at me with glory
I feel free and we are an unwritten story... When will we be complete, author of never-awried novelty?
You had made a rather huge impact on me
Holding on to what you utter, as soft as a feather
Cheers to a love that's temporary...but to hell with it - it's my cup of iced coffee
Holding on to you, even during hectic weather
I want you to hold because it's cold
I want me to hold because I'm the opposite of mold
Take me all the way
Hold...me...this dandy day
The way I feel feels too good to be true
It's the way I feel towards you
It's the feeling that I can't help but hold
Hold
Hold
Hold on...
You're too much fun!
You're there for me
Unlike anyone else, you see?
I'm joyous to the highest degree
Our lamentless love is greater than great - do you agree?
When I'm cold,
Be there to hold
Hold on to me,
My grand piece of gold - ooh, so shiny
I am breathless without you,
Hovering around me like a dragonfly of dandelion color
You are a part of my crazy cool coo-coo crew
You have a way with words and I can talk my mind to you alone...I know I might sound immature
This love is wiser now
It has grown due to many experiences of the painstaking past
You raise your brow
Teasingly...oh so teasingly...hold on to me forever - I want this time with you never to last