Long Fragile Poems
Long Fragile Poems. Below are the most popular long Fragile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fragile poems by poem length and keyword.
I was drenched in black water,
Yet, it looked as though I were dried out.
I stood before a lighthouse,
Yet, remained unseen.
Gazing into the sea’s blackness,
The highest tides forever circled me.
My eyes could find no anchor,
As my dark hands sailed towards the farthest shore.
My home, too, was cloaked in shadow;
Something unseen, yet present, walked with me there.
The map and the wanderer within me never agreed.
Colours were but drifting sailors in my life’s vast sea.
Different souls sail different paths,
Tides come and go.
Memoirs float like driftwood.
Something vast yet fragile appears near the stones.
My grave is smaller than the stones,
Its epitaph; empty and black.
I performed on countless beaches,
Yet, nothing remains visible on this blackest shore.
Visions Of Match Stick Girl
(“A Christmas Tale”)
New Year’s Eve came in the dark, on the cobbled stone street
On frigid snow and bitter cold, on the little shoeless, hatless girl
Visions of the match stick girl came through
Her name was Mary; lost like a little lamb in fog and ice
London has that effect on fragile things in England winters
She lost her parents too and oversized slippers there
The ones her mum once wore and gave to her with such care
Mother, father and slippers gone in an instance in the snow
Rolled over by two speeding carriages that killed them cold
She sells her match sticks by the River Ripper
Signs read, “No guns or knives permitted about the wharf”
Match girl does not fear for things she cannot read
But for her life and freezing on the New Year’s Eve
She sells only one match at a time
For a penny or a pence for what they’re worth
Poor girl has few customers along the river
As foul weather sets in and worsens
She stumbles sickly, stubs her toe on cobble stones
But still sings merrily against the folding snow
Not for contest
Based on Theme- The Little Match Girl by H.C. Andersen
“A Christmas Tale”
" Elevated thoughts "
The past is something
A story we tell ourselves
About a dream that is a life
Worth mentioning, solid as a thought
Fragile as a child computer ready
Filled with data, useful matter
It is so real you feel it in your bones
Something that is there like company
A tango for two or more to carry on
Onto the elevator going up
To other levels where
It stops on every 7th. Floor
Continues on with perfect circuitry
Escapes the past by moving through
The clouds where memory abides inside
Continuity rides into the present
Is something heavy compromised by time
Memory trapped in seconds but never still
Until it feels just right against the rails
The past is there imagined
A story that you tell yourself
Lasting only for those moments gone
Not where expected between the lines
The past is something else
A story that we tell ourselves
Rising from the fire like a phoenix,
hot cinders morph into crimson darts.
And shadows roam the fringes of light,
extinguishing any fledgling sparks.
Scarlet splashes amidst molten flames,
wherein, cerise and chartreuse cascades.
And all eyes follow the rhythmic flow:
as its hypnotic beauty pervades.
Bursts of laughter and bravado bond
in the scary tales that haunt the night.
And camaraderie can be felt
amongst everyone huddled up tight.
Tranquility's intoxicating:
pacifying your nerves with its peace.
And it feels like genuine magic,
when worries and anxieties cease.
The brotherhood around the campfire,
is ignited by flickering flames.
And fragile friendships are reforged,
free from frustration and power games.
Within the fragile frame of my fervent heart,
tinged with the tinsels of the amorous night,
my love gleamed with a gorgeous glow,
draping the sequins of your enthralling elegance.
In my psyche I felt the tempting tender caress
of your intangible mesmeric charisma,
but you sauntered away from my entranced sight
like the autumn cloud across my dream sky.
From the threshold of my desire reverie
your footprints faded away beyond the twilight.
With the turquoise thread of lingering longing,
I weaved the filigree of fantasy in my dream.
From the ebony edge of the night of despair
storm clouds surged with thunder of tearing strife,
destructed my dream, dispersed in the debris,
as my lost love turned into a fierce whirlwind.
I heard the squelch of the submerging sorrow
swathing stealthily my broken heart,
resonating the deranged lilt of indigo pulsation
with the splitting echo from the sensory strata.
The soft touches of your departing kiss turned into lashes
of desert storm as I drifted across the dunes of deprivation
with shifting sands of time designing myriad illusion.
In the mirage flashing in your eyes I saw my demolition.
There's something you should repent
All the heartache you have sent
My way and to many more
Who fell hard as they adore
Your sweet voice and caring charm
But then you lit off a bomb
That explodes and shakes their life
And causing all kinds of strife
When it doesn't bother you
Doing this your whole life through
Your mind doesn't have a clue
How damaging this can be
Find some sensitivity
And repair the hearts you've broke
With two words that should be spoke
"I'm Sorry" will be the start
Helping mend the broken hearts
Of the women you have made
So fragile and now afraid
To once again trust with those
Who want to get really close
Fix it now or you will meet
Someone that you can't defeat
They are stronger and won't take
Any of your crap and break
You in a way that's really bad
Causing you to be so sad
Like the people in your past
With shattered hearts inside a cast
Brittle sky falls, wrecks starry night
The moon slits, dissolves in the dark
You disappear out of my sight
On journey of search I embark.
When the clouds gather, storm descends
Brittle sky falls, wrecks starry night
I hear the sound of ruin it sends
I wait, you would bring the day bright.
My mind seeks a flash of your light
To show you how in my dark tears
Brittle sky falls, wrecks starry night
For you I kept within for years.
In me shadow of past enters
Grips my present with all its might
When in me fragile heart splinters
Brittle sky falls, wrecks starry night.
October 18, 2017.
Humans dream with infinite desire,
yet earth is bound in finite stone.
Scarcity reclaims what hope imagines,
and struggle rises to make it known.
Toughness builds a fleeting joy,
resilience sparks the fire of will.
But surrender waits at every corner,
a silent whisper, standing still.
Power is seized to bridge the gap
between longing and nature’s law.
Yet crowns dissolve in empty hands,
and truth of death is what we saw.
Life flickers — a fragile flame,
a gift once given, then reclaimed.
At times a blessing from the skies,
at times a chain that binds and drains.
And in this journey, I met a woman,
her presence carved into my fate.
But time was never on our side,
so love was left to hesitate.
Sometimes I curse the gods for this,
for burdens placed upon my breath.
Yet sometimes I thank them quietly
for beauty born inside of death.
Even gods in ancient texts
are swallowed by the mortal line.
For beauty lives in impermanence,
and love survives by what must die.
And still one life cannot contain
the endless weight of what we are…
By the white-bleached shrines of the exiled,
the clan—Eden’s aftermath—broke in despair,
the distance to the next pasture too far.
A weight settled in their chests,
a collective yearning to sink into the soil’s embrace,
to be still until the quiet returned and the will could mend.
They dispersed beneath the trees in fragile constellations,
like migratory birds grounded.
Ibex on high paused to observe them,
some upon the ridges, others lower down,
drawn by the sorrow woven through their speech.
Obedient children took the few remaining herds
to browse upon the sparse and brittle grasses,
a tender offering to their parents’ weary hearts.
And so they moved into the open light.
Under a solitary myrrh tree,
its foliage a living green,
a boy sat upon a great stone,
the sand below still holding the coolness of yesterday’s rain.
Clad in a skirt,
his robe drawn over his head and shoulders,
he sheltered his bare chest from the sun’s gaze.
He raised a five-holed gobeys to his lips.
Its voice, sharp yet of the earth,
carried the weight of ages,
a melody heavy with old grief,
conjuring images of men and camels
kneeling upon the bushy, parched land,
weeping for reasons unknown yet known to the heart,
before gathering themselves to stand once more.
Five black-headed sheep encircled him,
one a ewe suckling her young.
Farther off, a hundred others grazed.
His song was the only sound
that carried across the serene silence.
And there they stayed throughout the day,
listening from a distance to the boy’s chant,
and to the earth’s own song,
feeling their hearts slowly kindle
with the descent of the sun,
as the world softened into coolness about them.
This summer's winding leaves a pierce behind
Charred traces of her smouldering days,
A riddling puzzle blurs clouds in her mind
When fragile heart cracks glassy tears, assailed
Somehow, this thud of fall pretends to hold
A promise, tinged with sharp crushing of bones
Where forward bites and snaps the bitter cold,
That reels in hidden betrayals unknown
For with this most damn season's turn , alas
Trickery of love disowned in a rush,
When dusted time counters all autumns past
She flickers higher like emblazoned brush
And every triumph over cycles’ spin
Trades wheels of goodbye for fresh beginnings.
Goodbye Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Pre- Written 9/28/2016