Long Flitter Poems
Long Flitter Poems. Below are the most popular long Flitter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flitter poems by poem length and keyword.
Through pristine glass observed
autumnal leaves a scatter
the litter of the season
to dishevel and clutter up the garden
Sweep the crumbs away
lay polish to the smudged and smear
for glinting tiles speak ever more clear
to build the walls security
Settle leaf it’s time is spent
amid the moss is it’s fading feeding decay
in vibrant earth again some day
will know the kiss of sun out breathing sent
So by chromium faucet quench the thirst
in bottled plastic catch each drop
and flitter dust from out the corners dirt
bacterial inch upon the forests advance
And this filthy earth stains the finger nail
showers of rain bring their unwelcome rotting smell
then by chemical impostors of a flowers perfume
seek to cleans the air in a solitary room
Such isolation proves it’s security
neat clean and tidily scrubbed
hold fast the separation of technical morality
these things devoid of insect footprints
Lay soap to order the odor of sweat
yet beg the bloom for it’s delightful scent
to cut it’s throat upon a table set
the vase the only carefully treasured object
Hanker, oh hanker for the green living pasture
all the verdant aspirations of life in nature
tingle for the worth still caught in the veins
but choking on the wish of concrete remains
Through pristine glass observe the vegetation
the autumnal leaves flutter from the trees desertion
the trigger of another season
comes to rot and disarrange the perfect garden
Such fear prefers isolation and security
would rather heed the babblings of a technological morality
aspire then beyond the dumbwaiter of nature
a vase polished of any smudge or smear
Better to be in a clinical retreat
and by habit accept what is so clearly of need
take this germ free vacation
the trees are happy in their branches for the leaves desertion
Dumbwaiter
a small elevator, manually or electrically operated, consisting typically of a box with shelves, used in apartment houses, restaurants, and large private dwellings for moving dishes, food, garbage, etc., between floors. The term “A dumbwaiter” typically implies an unseen or unconsidered workforce below, this anonymous workforce deals with the contents of the dumbwaiter, kitchen staff, garbage collectors and laundry staff
How could you be so chaste
leaving me by myself to waste
Letting me rot away inside
like some hidden away lie
White lies black truths
Closed mouth
Ears
Eyes
To the injustice of a life taken away by the string leading to a master
Puppeteer
A disguiser whose costumes fool the innocent soul
Only to steal them away before the heart can break completely
Deteriorated inside
Mind numb and cracking
Fingers pulling at hair trying to feel
Trying to hurt
Any pain is better than nothing
Any pain in better than breaking down
The resounding hums of your words sink into my ears
Follow through with your talk
Hands strike out and secrets are made
Hid behind a false charade
And the shadows of people stare
But no one dares to become real for even a moment to intervene
Not their place to get between
The master and his slave
Sold by self to the highest bidder
Promises of happily ever after shattered by the reality of love
Contorted and twisted
This can’t be real love
But it’s the only love I’ve ever known
So I accept my fate and submit to the side effects of a choice
A path not well chosen
Guilt lay squarely on my own shoulders
Crumbling under the pressure of stares and words
Marks I can hide but as I die slowly from the inside I wonder if
Hiding is really worth the effort
Energy put into a smile
Acting as if my heart is still within me
Rather than attached to my beloved
As he walks away without looking back
I fall to my knees and plead, hoping for even a sign of regret
I know he isn’t a knight in shining armor
But he is my savior from myself, my prince charming
All decked out in hellfire
Leaving bruises where his caress leads, leaving cuts upon his anger
Unsure of where I stand any given moment
I know this isn’t a life I always dreamed
No tale Disney worthy
but when it’s what you need to feel wanted
the want wants and leaves you wanting more
more touch
more heat
more fire
more feeling
even if it’s pain
because the pain is only out of love
whispers flitter past but I am deaf and he is disappearing slowly out of my vision
disapating from my mind
as surely as he came
picking up the broken doll I was
he left
leaving behind the broken pieces even more tarnished
** For My Dear Dog Dreaming **?
As our most holy Lord from his
Luminescent Heaven might wish of us,
We’ve a model for dawns of optimism…As
No matter what occurred
The day or night before,
It is the way of dogs to greet each new day
In its now and present moment
With wagging tails,
With panting smiles,
And with what seems, a walking about
On lighter feet — ready for discovery —
The way my own many mutts and spaniels did;
The way our doxie GiGi does now
— and no matter how I feel —
At our first morning’s exchanged glance,
For her,
I will sweetly intone, “Good! Good
Morning, Little Girl! So good to see you!”
And with that happily said, she’ll
Jump up on the bed beside me
Where I’ll briskly tussle the furry, black top
Of her head, which her 12 years
Has slightly streaked with gray
— quite like mine after all these passed decades.
In each new morning, she waits for me to exclaim,
“Hello, GiGi! So good to see you!
Where were you all night? Did you run free
Everywhere without your leash? So swiftly
Over hillside grass and fallen gold leaves?
Did you chase chipmunks?
Squirrels? Birds? Find any happy
Children to join in with their giggling games?”
As if to answer, GiGi will come closer,
Nudging her muzzle under my palm, touching
For more loving, while I continue
My almost singing, “I know, Little Girl, you had fun!
Because, I saw your closed eyelids flitter
As you softly squealed notes a few times, so
Slightly near a whimper. And I saw
Your snout twitch as you likely followed a trail;
Saw all four of your legs jerking, bending
Within your night’s escapade ~
Over which I stroked your long soft. back,
Hoping to help keep your unknown,
Canine dream in peace — “
I ‘d moved then to gently lean
My head by her head with
My envying imagination over her ear to
Whisper, “Bless you, my God-sent angel,
For all your lessons and devotion,
I love you…
See you in the morning…“
The every new morning
For which you remind me to find a smile.
—————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 11/13 /2022
Thanks be to God…
My cocoon tightens –colors tease
I am feeling for the air
A dim capacity for wings
Demeans the dress I wear
1099 - Emily Dickinson
Butterfly- A Glosa
My potential, held in a chrysalis,
I hide within a shadowed niche,
safe from mischief and the curious,
time stands still for my strange seed.
Buds of my wings, flimsy as flowers,
grow from leaf nectar with ease.
In grub miasma I am geometry concealed;
a rainbow of speckles
secretly forming in tiny degrees.
My cocoon tightens- colors tease.
Outside a gentle, scented atmosphere,
stirs memories of my once, segmented self,
sucked to wind tossed leaves, green
of their green, protected by dapple;
a puzzle of leafy camouflage.
I gorged there, naked and bare,
then wove around me a fine cocoon,
I was the spinner, and the loom,
quietly suspended now I must dare.
I am feeling for the air.
I am feeling for the sun,
cell by cell, a squeezing permutation
diligently shedding grub matter.
A framework, a pattern, a nectar tongue
coiled for long throats of flowers to come,
poised for pastoral whisperings
I struggle to unfold.
A magic, a beauty stunningly brief,
I hold, like all mystical things,
a dim capacity for wings.
My feelers, living dopplers’ vibrate
I shimmer, transparent gossamer.
I gather energy, I tremble for flight,
I tumble with garden blest wings.
A brief portrayal of immortal life,
is part of the nature I bear.
I flitter, I flutter I seem to be aimless,
a symbol of ever-returning things.
Only the fragile and delicate flower,
demeans the dress I wear.
For Line’s “ A Stunner 2017 Contest
The Glosa is a Spanish form based on taking 4 lines by another poet and expanding the theme.
I have entered this in 3 or more contests and was NA’d EVERY time.
Applicable Not Applicable Contests
Contest Judged: 6/2/2019 2:03:00 PM
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
Placed 3rd
On the weary wings of winter the northern winds depart,
their harsh whisper in the frozen air
the frost-fastened mulberry trees hear,
“wait, you’ll listen the sweet music soon,
don’t despair, the serenading southern breeze
will embrace you with verdant melody”.
The misty mask melts, turning the sky into cobalt cauldron,
the ambrosia of resurgence drizzles the aura diaphanous air.
The gossamer clouds gorgeously embroidered
appear with the wispy ribbons of regal robe.
Lured by the shifting shapes of their soft shadow
the mulberry foliage begins to unfurl the malachite fresco.
The burgeoning branches flutter with emerald wings,
nascent leaves look up with budding fruits to the rising sun,
draping them with the patina of new verve rising high.
For the lofty trees the sprawling luxuriant life has begun,
as the lively boughs raise the copious canopy to the sky.
On the cadenced flow of the joyous zephyr
the berry fragrance finds the aromatic course,
trailed by the beguiled butterflies,
flittering in the rhythmic waves of jade symphony.
When the leaves offer the amorous cradle in sunburst morn,
the monarch butterflies make lilting aerial lattice,
entwined with the sailing sequins of the chromatic dawn dust,
they flitter in its cadence, searching for the larval host.
The heavenly beauty of the scene sublime unfolds
as the butterflies dance with ethereal exuberance.
When the rippling winds sing the moonshine song,
sparkling silver lines embroider dulcet design in drifting clouds,
reflected subtly in the mesmeric motif of the butterfly wings,
fluttering in the tempting tune of the mystique moondust melody,
the midnight hour contours the image of bliss with divine glow,
as the butterflies dance to the rapturous rhythm
of mulberry rhapsody in the garden of love.
Oh, woeful heart!
Unhappy days upon blindness embarked.
Appealing visions bought life’s loathsome start.
True light laid victim to lusting sparked.
A wanting came, but in the dawning disappeared.
Too late for undoing, promises played the cheating game.
Oh, woeful heart!
How long before horrendous despairs no longer remain?
Oh, despondent heart!
Love’s presence lost like a drifting butterfly.
Grief has stricken me throughout every part.
Flitter-ring of gaily dancing girls brought my cry.
The laughing swine have romped upon love’s pearl.
Preciousness has borne an awful stray
Oh, despondent heart!
How long must dreary darkness invade our day?
Oh, numb heart!
Sleeplessness confided in that love-forsaken night.
Time has played its game since trust turned away.
Forever became never in the middle of lust’s plight.
Together tears are bound to painful memories, no spark.
Victimized by a follies’ friend, the bed has been laid.
Oh, numb heart!
When will joy be found that life’s sorrow may fade?
Oh, faithful heart!
Thou art the very essence of my spirit’s grandest dream.
Two lovers that remember to keep honesty in sight.
Knowing that with faithfulness trusting soon redeems.
Life begins a brand new scene filled with joy’s suspense.
Revitalizing love, soon making living worth each night.
Oh, faithful heart!
Will fantasy find truth again and bring hope’s pleasant light?
Oh joyful heart!
Sing with my soul, songs of hope and trust revealed.
Come upon each dreary day when dreams are almost dead.
Show and strengthen helpful streams previously concealed.
Seek friends and optimisms; revive hope’s brighter day.
Promises and faithfulness never was just a toy.
Oh joyful heart!
Did you know hope and trust always precede joy?
© April 11, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
I squeeze in on the horse’s side,
spurring the mustang to a trot,
he makes his way on this trail ride,
up a hill to a sunny spot.
Three others are along with me,
two strangers and guide, the owner,
there blows a subtle, cooling breeze,
the guide cracks a joke, a groaner.
We reach a fine, sweeping view-point,
the Catskills roll out to the south,
my horse is acting out-of-joint,
grasps some undergrowth in his mouth.
Lift his head so he gets no more,
shouldn’t be eating with his bit,
then shift my weight, my legs are sore,
tomorrow I will pay for this.
But right now I don’t really care,
in fact I’d rather like to stay,
back of a horse, good for the soul,
to use a Churchill paraphrase.
We ride down, the rhythmic motion
always puts me into a trance,
come to a flat, wish I could run,
but I don’t think I’ll get the chance.
The strangers are new to riding,
they’re awkward just sitting up straight,
if the horses went a-flying
they’d be tossed clear off from the gait.
Work our way through a big spruce wave,
birds flitter about in the boughs,
enter a field with fresh-cut hay,
scattered in bales across the ground.
Leisurely through a high ravine,
where shadows fall upon our face,
looks kind of like a spooky dream,
a dark, moss-bound, and haunted place.
A deer looks up from where he feeds,
cocks his head, looking all confused,
the smell of human, he should flee!
But then they smell like horses too?
Pass him by, then ride ‘round a curve,
I can see a familiar barn,
guide says,”Now, it’s back to the world,”
as I look to my beat-up car.
I frown at the sight of hard steel,
these rides never seem all that long,
sorely tempted to kick my heels,
take the horse, keep ambling on…
set me free
the world is full
of troubles
that don't exclude
mine either
does it leaves
my soul at peace
I have been a victim
a victim of a troublesome
world
where confusion is
never new
so in every of my
way I search
for protection
set me free
I have been in and
out of troubles
yet troubles never
end
i have seen changes
and changed by
few of them
yet change never
end
i have longed
for peace I have
tasted it and
some times
am out of it
but peace cant
be stable in
a world of
troubles
set me free
their is a way
for a way
so the more
I sort for the way
to live in peace
and harmony
the more troubles
I encounter on my
ways
despite my spiritual
life I still battle
despite my kindness
am still hated
despite my struggles
am still a victims
in a captivated world
of troubles
set Me free
i would have ask
of humans
to be set free
yet they are
the origin of
my quest
I would have
trusted on man
made solution
to sort my peace
but it's full
of illusion
I would have base
my protection on religion
but these days is just
a control
so in and out of
confusion is never
new thing on our land
in a world of
troubles
set me free
I know man can't
gave me freedom
I must have it
within
I realise that since
I realise the ways
of humans are
not pure to attain
the power of love
I realise humans
are just mere competitor
humans are busy building
and destroying in ignorance
humans replaced humanity
to flitter their egos of power
in world of troubles
and now I realise
in the protection
of love far from
man made miseries
lies my quest
of freedom and if
that be true I only
ask on God to
set me free
All the world is a stage
Shakespeare did not tell a lie
I play a game that is life
And mix and match for greater variety
I am full of multiplicity
An enigma I am even to me
Some say I’m grumpy
Others claim I am the
Life of the party
Some just see me and wonder
Who might he be?
I flitter around
Landing only for a time
A mask I wear that is not just for show
In places and times
When I am due
I descent from the thin air
To take Centre stage
All around notice
For I boom and dazzle
And claim the king’s title
I allow closeness
With many conditions
I open up only for a select few
I may let my worlds merge
But in the presence of a those I choose
They may see a tempest raging within
Or a part of me they never knew
I hide in the open
I feel almost like a fraud
At times no one knows
What I am thinking
Or which side of the divide I’m on
I generalize and offer no clear options
I do add quotes if they are due
I love to debate and
Take the opposite view
Just for balance
Whether or not I believe what
The others say is true
I can be a cantankerous soul
That and only that I know is true
The angle of view of my world
Is distorted
No panoramic view can any one person have
Some see my creativity
Some see my philosophy
To some I’m insolent and moody
The real me dumfounds even me
I don’t know who next I’ll be
My stage is far and wide
I have no rules to which I abide
All I do is
Strut
Pose
And confuse
Those who seek and cannot find
My inner soul
So they can tell what is true
THE WISDOM OF THE AGES
gently, the breeze wafted, past the me
as i stood sentinal to the grass
empty now i lay so silently
as the world swirls, and whirls on past
the birds flitter about 'pon my head
leaving marks of white and grey
i've no indignation, now, being dead
i find i'm much more unflappable today
a headstone, a marker, a name in stone
memories live on in others, oh so finite, lives
but for me i'm quite bored, and all alone
only my name in stone survives
gently , the breeze wafts past me
as i wait, for eternity
to pass.
sometimes, i wish, i had accomplished something
like, something that would have made me immortal, then
what would riches, and honor, and glory bring
that i should ever hear my name again?
to conquer, invent, to carve in stone?
to found an empire, a nation, company, or state
what, after all, would laws and society condone?
after all, the New World wouldn't forever wait
the Incas, the Mayas, the Dakotahs, too
just couldn't wait
for folks like me, or probably you
is it much to late?
namer of nations, up to me, what would i say?
statues in honor, what would i be?
still, i'm here, i found no earthly way
to live on, eternally
as me
and , if there was a way to found some earthly dynasty
i think that it wouldn't have been free
my world would have been burdened with my me
and wouldn't have been quite so free
gently, the breeze wafts past my me
and goes on and on, wild and free
of me
they say with age comes wisdom
now i'm so smart
if i could found a kingdom
i wouldn't start
i'd plant a field, raise a daughter, and a son
and try to ignore
everyone.