Long Featherless Poems
Long Featherless Poems. Below are the most popular long Featherless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Featherless poems by poem length and keyword.
"At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I'll sit up and sing. That cannot now be said or written." Rumi
Lyrics of loneliness liberate in a lucid language,
lulling loveless librettos of lamenting loss.
In deadly depths of darkness,
deep desires dipped in despair,
misplace my marooned mind
in metaphorical mists of misconception.
Deserted in a domain of demons,
there's an aura of angst amongst absent angels.
When reality resembles a betrayal of butterflies,
withered wings wilt in wild winters without a wish.
In timeless tender tunes of tearful toxic torment,
nocturnal nightingales cry in a crepuscule chorus,
confessing caged crescendos in cryptic codes.
Sickness slithers in sinister silence,
as grinning Grim Reaper reveals his reflection.
My sojourner soul seeks a saviour's silhouette.
Who soothes in seraphic serenades of serenity.
To float in fate's fountain of featherless freedom.
In forbidden fields where fluorescent flowers flourish forever.
Her effervescent eyes exhale an elixir,
evoking an exotic, enticing, everlasting epiphany.
Enchanting in echoes of an Edenic enduring enigma.
Beneath bluebells, breathless and broken,
let me lay inside the lilacs of her amorphous aroma.
Her swan song closing chapter of my chronicles.
A halcyon harmony of heavenly harps,
guiding my gondola towards golden gates of grace.
FEATHERLESS ANGELS
The images were created by evocative art
Angels with feathered wings, all in white
Some with swords at Eden Garden’s gate
But their main duty was to communicate
Some had fallen, at least in God’s sight
But with evil direction, played their part
If one good angel were now to appear
Unlikely to be feathered, or have wings
I am sure that one would be able to tell
A message to share and all fears to quell
Maybe it is hope that the future brings
But an angelic smile, when the end is near
In an angry world, some people are good
By others, deemed to be angels in disguise
No feathers nor wings, at least to be seen
But such a presence as there’s ever been
And from their lips, a blessing multiplies
Spreading more love, if they just could
CHILDHOOD SWINGING BY
An empty swing sits there in my backyard,
Reminding of those sweet old childhood days,
When we used to take turns to swing so hard,
When we touched the sky with our toes upraise,
Reminding of those sweet old childhood days,
See the footprints that lead up to the swing,
When we touched the sky with our toes upraise,
We flew with the birds on that wooden wing,
See the footprints that lead up to the swing,
Me and my friend and my childhood sweetheart,
We flew with the birds on that wooden wing,
With our wiggling legs we would get that start,
Me and my friend and my childhood sweetheart,
We grew up on that swing in my backyard,
With our wiggling legs we would get that start,
How we enjoyed our pure childhood unbarred!
We grew up on that swing in my backyard,
Flying with our dreams of togetherness,
How we enjoyed our pure childhood unbarred!
Remaining aloft although featherless,
Flying with our dreams of togetherness,
When we used to take turns to swing so hard,
Remaining aloft although featherless,
An empty swing sits there in my backyard.
06.18.2020
Photo #1
Feelings of nostalgia contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Comin’ Through
They stand there
monuments to stupidity
blocking progress,
denying access
or egress
to the doorways
corridors
checkout lines
coffee pots
of life
JUST STANDING THERE
totally enamored of themselves -
the urgency of their idle chit-chat.
Suffering from auricular atrophy
unable to hear anything but their own voices,
immune to common courtesy
looking at me as if “I HAVE A NERVE”
disrupting their insensitivity by requesting
“PERMISSION TO PASS THROUGH”
this huddle of hubristic pomposity.
They are masters of the “HARRUMPHHH” face
a look designed to make the dog pee,
the cat bristle and slink away,
me know that I have offended
the sensitivities of the insensitive
ruffled the feathers of the featherless
dared to insert a comma into their run on existence.
John G. Lawless
8/1/2015
Written: October 27, 2023 For Ink Empress Contest
_____________________________________________
Under the diaphanous glow of the moon.
They rise sequentially to a delightful boon.
They have no feathers to adorn their skin.
They still sway quietly and love to spin.
Angels evolved with their comely wings.
Let our souls fly via shadow, amid springs.
Their dulcet grace shone, and they were brilliant.
A rule was argued until it was deemed resilient.
In their mellifluous flight, they blaze a path ahead.
To rise across the humdrum and the dread.
Embracing our true nature, our inner light
And embark on an endeavor that glows bright.
Heave-hoed hereof hallowed halls of heaven.
Their flaps hurled them forth, yet again leaven.
Their minds were furtive on the floor, twirling.
Sage sight scarlet-smeared saffron swirling.
On an arcane spring day, an eternal angel sings.
A world abyss carries empathy and peace strings.
Humming his tune all day over freshly cut hay
As the sun set down, the haycocks turned to clay.
Scorch my lips and quench my thirst.
I sense a schism and wish the wood had burnt
This cherub has no feathers in his wings.
Spouts anguish from inside, a burning ring.
Intense heat as they recover and renew.
Blaze floated and lower downward blew.
As a flock of birds drifting in the auric air.
Wisteria wains on white wings and stares.
If wings have been equated with plumage,
These angels provide us with a fresh triage.
Strong featherless wings are a sign of pride.
Challenge us to prevail utterly by their side.
Featherless angels are luminous and buoyant.
Seek their wise and keen support as clairvoyants.
They elevate us to eager heights on invisible wings.
Sending smiles to our faces as they fit past things.
They serve as a signal that we are all free to fly.
Despite challenges and tribulations, we rely
Their vitality is stored in the depths of the soul
A heavenly grasp, an aura of celestial stroll.
"Mother,
You are my heartbeat
and I'm your lifeline,
we both are 'one',
as an inseparable hue of purity,
smeared upon the sacrosanct lotus..."
As you cradle
those sleepless stars,
swirling in my
insomniac flurry ink,
lulling me to
honeydew-soaked
slumber and
letting these
unicorn-lights
twinkle within every
pearlescent pulse,
my heart flies
across gentle
wonderlands of
fairy-knitted dreams,
believing in
seraphic miracles.
Although, I may
have been
drenched in
cavernous
bloodstorms and
my heart bleeds
russet hail, but,
you will always
heal my hauntings
with your
calendula-glazed
peridot symphonies,
forever shielding
my saffron
innocence within
your womb
of compassion,
soft like
creamy cotton,
and periwinkle-rosy
flickers of love.
I've been blessed
with the crimson-gold
warmth of a
motherly sunflower,
amidst this
cold autumnal
rain of bitter flakes
and spiced leaves.
You are my
white-lotus-winged
mermaid, a
featherless angel,
and this
watercolor child
will always draw
peony-incensed
gardens, carrying
the fruity fragrance
of maternal croons.
This lifetime
will incessantly
echo with nascent
harp's harmonies,
of a daffodil-
daughter's melody
for her spring-
scented mother,
for, it's the
only rare truth,
that has been
revealed amongst
onyx blades,
scattered across these
vulturous skies.
I never dream to
fathom those
lavender beaches
of snowy sonnets,
without the
cashmere caress
of your sheen
cinnamon shawl,
that gives me relief
from aching
frostbites,
rewarded by
this wistful world,
immersed in apathy.
I forevermore
wish to be that
last 'princess petal',
that remains
eternally etched
to the selfless
nurturing of your
pinkish throne.
Unopposed Oxymoron
This poem is light as a heavy contradicting complement
and rhymes with no correspondence of sound sharp at
the cutting horizon’s edge of melting confusing fission
Serious like a foolish jester and in trivial necessity it wants
to be chimed in disagreement discordant harmony figure
of speech silent shapeless tallies and out into central periphery
Traditional post-modern as an anchor less mooring unbound
a planar linear Oxo cube for poetry soups soaps speechless
rhetoric it says nothing’s everything all for refutation and proof
Cut as a half witted razor blade dull as laser bred dull diamond
the oxymoron in proximal distance joins divisions idiotic
intelligence bland precision in amorphous diffused clarity
I am nothing but and everything as I know to know nothing
where healthy insanity and clear normal madness when
condensed reflection and prismatic diffusion meets parting
My initial final backfiring telos in idle lazy effort’s endeavour in
rhyme and in lightness dissonant un-melodic featherless burden
is that being at different places in different times in the same
space and same moment is not an oxymoron but debatable truth
Written on 27th August in Johannesburg dateless timeless
and nowhere with a blank mind and mindful disregard
The Parrot
The bird in the cage has featherless wings folded
to the naked body like squeaking scissors
I'm 89 today let, me out of this bloody cage!
Its owner is hard of hearing, is the widow of a war
veteran, I think the First World War
She tells everyone she meets, 8 million horses and
12 million donkeys were killed on the battlefield and no one
took notice
Humanity only thought of their suffering and were
impervious to animals' feelings, more, a wounded animal was eyed as a potential meal by hungry soldiers
Dragged from a green field to a soggy battlefield and
not a word of thank you
Goulash, the famous Hungarian dish, was made from horse
flesh and camouflaged with paprika, pepper, and salt
for 89 years, the parrot had only been able to read
the titles of books on the shelf on the opposite wall
It had a lively mind and listened to the radio every day
well educated can squawk with the best of them
As the dense haze of the drowsy dusk
disappeared behind the drape of the tinsel-twined dusk,
the mystique night spread its turquoise tapestry
on the dream-drenched diaphanous sky,
where from the edge of the creative cosmos
her star landed with the light of billion candles,
on the loving lap of the mesmerized mother.
Its tantalizing twinkle rippled with
the rhythm of rapture in the dance of angels,
in sync with the symphony of her heart,
celebrating the descent of a spark of her divine light,
she protected in the worldly wind.
The shining stellar sequin
elegantly enjeweled the ethereal robe,
called the motherly love, she wore
in place of the feathered wings of the heavenly angels,
sheltering the sparkle of the shooting star,
she fostered till the end of her time,
when in the obscurity of eternal darkness
she disappeared, nobody remembered.
But I saw her return home,
where she shines as my singular star
in the realm of celestial splendor,
attaining the aura of the seraphic congregation.
In the crown of God glitters a gorgeous gem,
my featherless angel.
Oh man! Just go out and see
Nature has created a picturesque symphony
Tree are birthing
leaves
fruits
flowers.
It is green and colourful
Breeze is blowing,
birds are mating,
sun is warm
welcoming
Just shut down your electronic devices
go out
enjoy
Nature is beautiful
Joyous
Flowers are dancing to the beat of wind
Birds are singing melodic music to woo their mates
Watch exclusively designed butterflies fluttering by
Observe how they drink nectar from flowers
Bumblebee is busy collecting honey.
In trees squirrels can be seen scampering
Watch out for nests,
Small fragile young ones
Featherless beauties
Mother feeds them with her beak
Everything is beautiful
Happy
Celebrating
Sun is pleasant,
Walks are exhilarating.
Watch the changing colours of sun and
Shimmering noon
Unobscured by clouds
Just be out
Don’t sit at home.
Nature is at its best for you to enjoy.
Collect as many wonderful memories as possible.
Life is short
Tomorrow uncertain!
7th March 2021