Long Fleeting Poems
Long Fleeting Poems. Below are the most popular long Fleeting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fleeting poems by poem length and keyword.
I dream of magic lines but they elude me.
Chapbook on acrylic tube palette, janus-faced cave in
at the crack of dawn,
crescent moonlight awnings turn to circus of the soul,
images that colour dullard pages leave furrow on my
hayrick haggard brow.
Backwater sonnet form leaning towards some meadow compost rot.
Ghost written silhouettes, shatter fragile eggs on
loop pile Berber carpets,
yolk stain and pale brown chicken hash tags.
Tight rope knot escarpment found in tripod camera verse,
cliff edge heart-stop paen is just another
blue-sky canon over billed by birds of prey.
Poetic licence pointer to a learner permit doggerel,
aspiring metre patchwork but a tapered column
lost in grey day whimper.
Guangdong province text in lychee pink for window glaze.
Fleeting notions dangle at the sparrow hawk crossroads,
while grazing skinny red ballon formations overhead.
Mother of invention please shine your convex beam
upon this wellspring drought abandonment I swim in.
Sudden brain cell drafts a Jack-o’-lantern of disjointed phases,
stretcher bear the legless phrases that leave me
wheelchaired and infirmed in woolly states.
Timeline mainstream woofer whose lagging jacket hemline falls apart,
areole reduced branch slowly bleeds its cactus juice of inspiration.
A rush, a fever, quotidian fever,
no greater longing can us writers have.
Upon life's stage where shadows weave their play,
A fleeting waltz where mortals find their way.
In heedless youth, with innocence bedight,
The heart's true freedom, by time, is put to slight.
Oh, valor lost, in age's solemn gaze,
As years' cares, like chains, their toll displays.
Yet in the echoes of a child's sweet strain,
Lingers a melody, free from life's disdain.
Majestic memories, like gems, we hold,
A treasure trove, more precious far than gold.
With laughter's notes, the heart's own melody,
We waltz through time, in joyous symphony.
The tears we shed, like dew on morning grass,
Reflect the sorrows that in shadows pass.
Yet midst the tears, resilience takes its stand,
As courage blooms, like flowers in the sand.
For in each sorrow, wisdom's seed is sown,
A harvest reaped when innocence is known.
With open eyes, behold the world anew,
And let the child within, your soul renew.
Rejoice in dreams, like butterflies take flight,
With aspirations soaring to the height.
Embrace the dance, the rhythm of your heart,
And from life's stage, let joy and love impart.
In twilight years, when shadows draw near,
Recall the dance, the laughter, and the cheer.
For in the tapestry of time, 'tis true,
The child within forever dances through.
In every heartbeat, whispers lessons learned,
From tender moments, where vulnerability burned.
Life's lesson, etched in laughter and in pain,
In fragile dreams, and the dance in the rain.
As years unfold, and innocence retreats,
Cherish each moment, where two hearts beats.
For time, the relentless sculptor of fate,
Carves stories on our souls, early and late.
With each scar, a tale of battles fought,
Of love embraced, and lessons dearly bought.
The child within, though sometimes obscured,
Holds the key to a wisdom often unheard.
So, dance through life, embrace the fleeting day,
Feel the warmth, let vulnerability sway.
For in the dance, where shadows gently fade,
We find life's beauty, in memories made.
Let your heart be tender, let your spirit soar,
In the tapestry of life, find something more.
The child within, a guide through joy and strife,
Teaching us to savor the essence of life.
I thought that I could resist you
Until you fell down at my feet
Seeing those hungry wanting eyes
I prayed, my soul you would not eat
Now the preacher could not save me
As I succumbed to your embrace
A feeble man that seemed so strong
Would be ensnared by one in lace
You made me scream like a baby
For I knew that I had a choice
A mad quest for carnal pleasures
I was enticed by sultry voice
Luscious whispering in my ear
The simple promise that you made
We just had a single evening
Yet within my mind you stayed
Why couldn't the old preacher heal me
when before him my sins were layed
Although the pleasure was fleeting
The memory of you wouldn't fade
All I had was that one photo
Of you the girl with wanting eyes
I've consumed so many hours
A fool holding onto my lies
For as the Mercury rises
Silver tendrils reach for my hand
I'm a man who feasts on famine
Cracked hourglasses hold no sand!
The preacher revealed my secret
My indiscretion was exposed
In the end I found my freedom
When the chapter of lust was closed!
A write for Lyrics II Rob Carmack's Black Crowes Contest
Inspired by their song "Descending"
A purely fictional write.
The cinnabar disc of cold fire afar slowly ascends,
sets the sunk edge of the sunburst horizon ablaze.
As all the cosmic colors the chromatic satin sky blends,
diamond dewdrops on malachite meadow glint in haze.
The crisp beguiling breeze flutters the emerald canopy,
cleaves channels thru’ the foliage filigree for sunbeam,
splashing gold sequins on leaves rustling on jade tree,
fringing the fawn vale effulgent in the sunshine gleam.
The day’s crystal face in sapphire emptiness shines bright,
the seamless cobalt canvas of dawn sky changes color.
Before the radiance of the day is consumed by twilight
I absorb the dregs of the setting sun's sinking splendor.
At the fragile fringe of the fleeting forlorn moment,
spellbound by sunIight of the splendiferous dulcet dawn,
I perceive the new glow of the divine light resplendent
with the rays of hope radiating from the hued horizon.
Just a breakfast quickly, with steam from my ears ??
Prove Your Not A Robot.
How many buses are in these squares ?
With your specs on you begin to stare,
your vision is good, so you count four,
In the screens eight boxes, maybe more ?
You check again, making sure you got it right,
yes its four buses, it really is in plain sight,
a message requests you check it once more,
by this time you’ve thrown the iPad on the floor.
With a possible repair bill, looming for-the pad,
you pick it up, theres a small crack, it makes you mad,
So back you go to the sign in yahoo-mail screen
it asks you again to sign in, your about to scream.
Here we go with check your not a robot again,
Please count the traffic lights to enter the domain,
another careful count, you see there are three,
but then it asks to count how many squares have trees.
The morning is fleeting bye, and so is your temper,
useless Yahoo mail box is run on total paranoia,
It believes there are more robots than people
and now with Ai being invented, its ever more feeble.
Ive never wished, i could be a robot so much,
and spend my mechanical days way out of touch,
but I’m a human, with faults, and affable brain,
So its down to the apple repair shop, once again.
In shadows taken, at the age of seven,
A stolen light beneath a sunless heaven.
The world outside, a memory growing cold,
A silent story, in a cell untold.
Seven long years, the clock a broken sound,
No laughter here, no safe or hallowed ground.
Then the sudden light, the prison door undone,
At fourteen years, beneath a stranger sun.
A ghost returned to a life no longer there,
Haunted by whispers and the weight of air.
The freedom was a cage of a different design,
Filled with the wreckage of what used to be thine.
The scars unseen, they etched a different fate,
A fragile soul, burdened by fear and hate.
The world moved on, but he remained behind,
Tangled in webs that held his heart and mind.
Just a decade lived, after the chains were shed,
At twenty-four, he joined the silent dead.
A fleeting candle, burnt out far too fast,
A life of fragments, of a shattered past.
The tale is told in numbers, stark and brief,
A quiet end, a final, sad relief.
(Five-year-old Timothy White, whom Steven rescued from his child molester, Kenneth Parnell, was one of Steven's pallbearers at age fourteen)
Animistic descent from sanity
Boorish attitude, sense of lost control
Crawl out of your skin, bloody vanity
Darkness claws like a black hole
Eternal uncertainty wreaks mayhem
Freedom not given, glued to midnight
Glutton of attention, cannot condemn
Hungry for life, all bark and no bite
Insanity placed on my sweating forehead
Justification, she’s just sick
Killjoy I may be, the day I dread
Labels in my throat choke me quick
Meaningless apologies, see from my eyes
Nights of liquid lucidity, a dull mind by day
Oh the pain, its thorns shred my heart and thighs
Persistent thoughts, worries carried away
Question my identity, a woman without a face
Remember happiness, a fleeting memorial
Scars on my ribs, my heart’s knives trace
Tears on my face, struggles sensorial
Ugly feelings of hate, daily reprise
Veins of ice or so it feels, words tongue-tie
With echoing sighs my dream dies
Xenolith, smile covered, stifled outcry
Yearning for a hand to hold on to
Zealous recovery, fail and reverse
Mao I
(After an ink drawing by Mao I, Song dynasty, c. 1100
in the Freer Gallery of Oriental Art)
Faded, brown, discrete, as flowers pressed
in some antique book or magazine suggest
an intimate mood--fleeting, flown,
perennial, between timeless print grown
meaningless, his femur sausage-linked
bamboo or supple joint-less trout, lightly inked,
survived the arson and the coup d'etats.
We find no window-sized Madonna
or noble in fluffed moustache
winking across the room at a burgher
winking back.
Here on a silk pane, light-boned swallows
toss in the wind-sifted willows,
While at wind-arrested edge of flight one flies
caught forever turning in his almond eyes.
I can feel this heartbeat, gentle rhythm deep
under my feet, I can feel the blood seep…
I keep it clean, I can feel the scorched earth weep,
what have we done Dear God, this earth reeks…
are the Kings playing for the throne
as the destruction is nigh, the media alight
I can feel this misplace holy war
the suicidal tirade of adolescent apes...
Burning tribes living in turmoil
long are the days on this fleeting earth
the righteous are holy in immaculate rebirth
only to find a cinder of ash, cold at last
A faltering distant earth, holy are days
scorched burnt black, as attrition’s warfare
breaks this crust of a lost infinite earth...
I can feel it’s heartbeat, gentle rhythm creep
inside my mind, I can feel the blood weep…
I keep my thoughts intact
I can hear this scorched earth seep,
what have we done Dear God, this earth is bleak…
An Orange King is enthroned, as the destruction is nigh
I can feel this misplace holy war the suicidal, high.
This moving poem is inspired by a friend whose mum is struggling with MS. It's a terrible disease that affects the whole family. May we make great strides in healing all autoimmune diseases. With love and light.
Together one day in Heaven
By Michelle Morris
12/05/2023
I know you don't see me
You're stuck in a frozen time
A moment in your memory
Where life was pure and fine
I am here with you
Whether you see me now or never
Even if you can't remember
I'll be here for you with love from Heaven
Our happiness is something fleeting
We have to hold on to the love and hope
Even if it seems like elusive fireflies
That disappear into their forest home
I know that deep down inside you know
You can feel the love and light of my soul
All the emotions within my heart
All the secrets that only God knows
For I hold darkness at bay (each day)
And I sometimes feel like I'm losing faith
Because all I ever wanted for you
Was joy and a life filled with peace
But I thank God for the time we've had
For the wisdom and experience I've gained
I am a better husband and father
And a man who overcame great pain
I know that your time is counting down
It saddens me, yet gives me relief
For you deserve so much better
Than a life lived from a wheelchair
Even though you've not been healed
The miracle of life and love has been our blessing
I am grateful for you every day, mum
We'll be pain free together one day in Heaven
© Michelle Morris, 2023