Long Filaments Poems
Long Filaments Poems. Below are the most popular long Filaments by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Filaments poems by poem length and keyword.
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky
Embossing amber dreams upon nightmares of night
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high
While reddish filaments woven in lavender float by
Scintillating morn in golden glimmers of daylight
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky
Autumn’s crimson leaves fall, rustling languid sigh
As daybreak adorns lilac in brushstrokes of delight
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high
Where dreary dull dissipates as cliffs of hills beautify
And awed eyes are drawn to eagle’s majestic flight
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky
Enticed by sparrow’s quest when robins trills a reply
Enriching brilliance of aura, motifs in mauve excite
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high
When panoramic passions of fall endearing vibes vie
Embroidered in patterns floating on iridescent sight
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high
November 18, 2021
Poem of the day on November 20, 2021
Placed 1st: “V” New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Vermillion
Still Life For Words in G Major
Our slippery searching years peel away,
From a central pulsating rind beating fast,
Which glistens like a deep sky beam of green fire,
Emitting unseen filaments with tiny balls of sap,
Crowning their peaks with a watery white bulb,
of time mixed with multitudes of naked mirrors;
Our unique human voices swim now in cloudy rivers
Like fish that have been thrown back after the hook,
Old dead friends haunt me as the stars outside
Continue their eternal dust dances in the dark,
They shake my hand as they manifest bodily,
With youthful stubborn ardor and unwrinkled skin,
To past minutes and forgotten hours,
Now digested like last night’s roast left on the stove,
By dead friends now holding flowers in a sullen graveyard,
That big green obscenity splashed with naked sun,
Peeling away from the core, the central pulsating rind,
The inner turning eye of the subcutaneous heartbeat.
Outlined by moonlight, mysterious Orb spider,
spinning your geometric lines, un-changed,
as from the dawn of time. Around us,
as life quickens-you -un-hurried-weave your web
as–slowly knitting time.
Second by second, secretly in spaces, you hang
your timeless filaments.
In daylight nature wraps you in a leaf- this ritual-
unchanging as the tide
Unaware by day we sweep this gossamer away
When patiently re-strung-like space and time re-spun
we watch you, and for a moment time stands still.
5/30/21
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Open Poetry 5
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
A rustling of digital leaves
in the binary breeze.
Odd fractals of ones and zeros
crash in waves of a subliminal sea.
Rotations of carbon and nanowires
collecting in my shadow.
Ghost of man-made reality
in matrices of ions.
The light of a binary universe in transit.
Coils of cool light drifting
through my Silicon Soul.
A leaf curves and descends
into decaying isotopes.
I feel the event horizon
of god’s information overload.
A rustling of skeletal circuitry
in a binary breeze.
All is not what it seems: odd filaments
of nanites and nanoseconds.
Feeling the rush of cold
in a binary breeze along subliminal seas.
In sleepy
synaptic
catacombs
theorems dream beneath calcified floors
neurons stretch filaments of light
paleontologists of lost certainty
tracing the memory of what
once
coruscated
alive
each recovered syllable rises in luminosity
trailing sediment from older visions
when knowing shifted
steering truth by
extinguished
stars
their light arriving as memory does
late and changed
waves breaking against my palms
sometimes a word returns
with
a
quiver
a neuron long faded suddenly firing
unmasking me
language has a pulse too
memory susurrates in its syllables
tissue pressed beneath the skin
a word returns and with it
a face
already
fading
In dementia's neural ossuaries
they slowly resurface
refracted through time's
fossilized
strata
what returns exceeds what departed
yet what returns also slices us
so softly
with its incompleteness
a small lance lodged behind
ribs and bone
each restoration births knowing
part excavation part genesis
claimed by no century
reshaping me in return
moth-wings brushing my cheek
We become the archaeology of ourselves
hands cupping reverberations
charting the contours of our hearts
hearing again in the filamented dark
the pulse of neurons stretching
filaments of light
spelling the names
we thought
we'd lost
I sit and watch the twilight
In vaulted heaven burns brittle stars
I feel the rush of wind
It cares the ash of pine
I feel the movement of the earth
In rivers of darkness flow
I feel the cosmic birth
How fragile we are
I know the tilt of the universe
In seas of oblivions void
I touch the ground it trembles
I see what is in between the fragments
In moments beyond thought
I see echoes of images from afar
How fragile we are
I taste the abstract firmament
I watch the collapse of a neutron star
In coldest nights of darkest wind
I feel the ties that bind slip away
It carries the filaments of decay
I know the passage of soul
How fragile we all are
In movements of the metronome
In oceans of reality
I feel the slipping away
I wish I could stay
In the aftermath of life
I see how fragile we all are
For you I am here
being cooled by this breeze
coming in off the water, soul deep
in an evening breaking out in stars,
being soothed by the soft sound
of lapping waves filtering through
the muted air.
And for you I take in the sky strung
with the filaments of creation,
the moon veiled by a thin gauze
of glowing cloud and see
in a long, faintly brushed ribbon
of light, the edge of our galaxy
stretched out above.
And so,
I have become the means
for you to feel this evening,
its unfolding in time and space,
whilst you remain hidden
from me, unreachable
behind the impenetrable silence
of eternity.
Monoku is a senryu/haiku with a slight enigmatic flavour written in its earlier as a one line form
*
dear john she replies - dipping her pen into tears
*
listen to the pause - silence is golden
A tribute to Erik Satie
*
the school-bus departs - she eats the advent candy
*
on garibaldi's retreat - the cookie crumbles
*
moss carpets the roof - the blackbirds make over
*
carol concert prelude- - chatter of innocents
*
footsteps in the street - echos of a distant youth
*
filaments in ferment - the elements touch base
*
a tumbleweed,windblown - the bounty-hunter dismounts
*
at ease on my bookshelf - yesteryear's leisured hours
*
a rainbow arises - through a curtain of tears
*
between wind and water - skating on black ice
*
shadows of yesteryear - distortions in todays dreams
*
as a sequence
a perambulator arrives - emptiness takes its leave
.
a quietness descends - fresher term opens
.
room-to-let sign illumes - emptiness returns
"
Oh! how gracefully the trees, flaunting splendor lilt
Swaying autumn’s palettes in rhythms of winds ruby
As the sun is setting, flaming glow of gamboge skies
Amber breeze is blushing rosy glimmer of eventide
And robins are excavating pecking on decaying lawn
Where ducks are ambling, ogling seductive bond
Amid people strolling, pausing to gaze at opaline arc
Floating crimson filaments on tinted purple canvas
Enhanced by falling colors whirling mellowed vibes
In twilight’s golden ambiance alluring romantic eyes
Gleam of eve’s fading, ceding reign to peeking moon
As scent of you appeals, quiescently enveloping me
Enchanting where I sit, under twinkling stellar magic
Enticed by euphony of mockingbird’s sensuous song
Articulating for me eloquently, love is never too far
When autumn blazes passions titillating lovers’ hearts
October 20, 2021
Placed 1st: Let’s Mix It Up Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Nature
Unrhymed couplet/Unrhymed imagism/Free verse
It was August 1st,
Army Day in China—
when I was escorted through concrete arteries
deep beneath the pulse of the city.
No cameras. No phones.
Just retinal scans, encrypted codes,
and a silence that pressed
like gravity.
They called it:
Project Wraith.
Rows of suits—no ordinary armor—
but fabrics interlaced with nano-carbon filaments,
reactive polymers,
and strands of bio-electric mesh
that shift molecular frequency
on command.
These were not soldiers.
They were phantoms,
encased in electrostatic cloaks,
their AI cores learning faster
than human instinct could fire.
Their bodies phased—
in and out of visibility,
through steel, through matter,
through perception itself.
One passed through me.
I felt nothing
but a drop in temperature,
like history brushing against the skin.
“We’ve weaponized light,” said the scientist beside me,
his voice cold, brilliant—
like an algorithm made flesh.
“Quantum-threaded suits sync with the cerebrum.
Cognitive field maps adjust in microseconds.
They think at the speed of war.
No lag. No doubt. No conscience.”
They spoke of field modulation,
time-split optics,
phase states.
Displacement theory had reached
deployment.
And in their brilliance,
I saw the fall—
the eclipse of soul by signal.
How far have we come?
We’ve bypassed sight,
rewritten space,
coded war into silence.
But who decides when the unseen strikes?
When the ghosts we built
turn on the living?
I left that tunnel changed.
The light above looked artificial,
the air too honest.
We have crossed into a war
without sound,
without shadow,
without warning.
And somewhere in the distance,
the last cry of humanity
echoed without echo—
heard only by
those still
fully human.