Long Frames Poems
Long Frames Poems. Below are the most popular long Frames by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frames poems by poem length and keyword.
A fairyland fable is a magic table floating around but nit with a rallying cry. That is purely reserved for several synchronised cruise ships whose sunbathing missions thwart many a delivery driver. It is with great interest that an interest is neither a monetary aim at a bank or an inked out financial score singing a palate of possibilities. So go call the cat then. Go on. Meow meow. Dinner time. There you go. Fresh tuna is very scared now. Oh dear. And all the little flakes hard at work minced flesh in factories never really has a rest does it? Dilapidated dog during digging. And a great big wish from a ten thousand kilo cake is a celebrated glow in an outer solar sphere. Clap them all. Many cakes many spheres. Loud claps. And shouting at the mail is equivalent to eating beans on toast at several hundred miles an hour upside down in a bucket. It is in many weathers that a tall lanky snail circles a circuit in a rally car. Very very fast. Well done. There is a crown and a bursting champagne bottle whose antics on the plane were quite rude and non productive. However showering the podium with released bubble is quite a feat of engineering and requires precision mathematics too. So never ever become intoxicated if holding a compass, a text book, six lined sheets of paper, ten pencils and an organic cheeseburger with salad. Marketing making money moguls merry. And the swimming curry is out for the day in the lake occasionally resting on a Papadopoulos papadum boat who whips a papaya to create a cocktail. How rather quaint that is isn't it? How many radiuses are there in a pear? And how many tents can be made from a single pair of tights? These are highly significant questions to ask at a time when the antipepiscides are at the protest. Rioting. And tootling along the lane came a little green car whose plan was ever only to drink copious amounts of tea at the inn of then. Saviour not a sanctified secretion of a sweet set of stagnant striped silk. And enter no password of hi dee hi on a billboard for frames are allowing much to pass by over the cliffs. So watch out if carrying ten cars, a wobbly bus, and a twelfth century castle for it is the marksman who are marking a book from a diocese, a school and a university of agha banks. Couple that then. Great. Hahaha fantasy fig floating around hahaha banana bandana bringing bee balancing. Xxxxx metropolitans z
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A whale in a pail is far more active in a gale or in copious amounts of hail. Putting money into sharks is a shifty act involving the shuffling of coats in cloakrooms. And clown costumes placed in the bowls of women's frames are reserved for the elite attire of lemmon lipped bowler heads whose acidic tongue holds the weaponry speeches of tomorrows gore. Pain is a painted potato placed with the pilots to place on a place numbered out and planned on maps arriving by facetious fax machines whose many layered buttons seek to halt a single growing grass level with a shard spoken key. Turning a keyboard to an angle one can visit the highest climate but coinage is best reserved for a large bull with a blue tie. Behind many layers. Many layers is not many lettuces it is merely many lanes. And lanes are lovely on a summer evening returning from the abbey to the house in eighteen fifty-three in long beautiful blue dress with fancy earrings and hair wound in a tight bun. Looking around it is unsurprising that history repeats in the timeless whorl akin to stirring an acre pan of stew or making sandwiches for two hundred people at a picnic. Societal swamps seek some swanky shuffle starting storms. And all the while the little pixies dance in the trees. The unicorns prance, the fairies fly round and round, and all other realmes folk sigh at the endless processions of humans making endless chain of woe. Cause no pattern to rise up from a paper print. For if you do your whole world and house will be prints causing visitors to arrive in many windows to create a karmic reaction and a reaction is a realism and a responsive reach but not a retch. Little frog hums in the kitchen cupboard. He is very bored today and would like to go visit the pond but the machinery placed there ensures it is not safe to hop and when hopping it often is the case that shots are fired from the artillery of the ant people in plastic helmets. They move akin to a swarm of kettledrums on a backlit of carbonised baking trays. Powder that then. Beetroot faced woman in that raspberry printed dress. And to encourage the wrath of a walnut is to embellish a multicolumn of static electricity. Wow. Mish mash mush then. Hahahaha the dancing in the bathroom door hahaha mixed-use mixers mingling mangy mincemeat. Xxxxxxx prese tart structure Paden tar xxxxxxx invertebrates z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z THAT;
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I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
With lantern light weary I write this morbid night
The moon above the meadows move in gloomy mist
With pen in hand, hermit a man and death amidst
Oh shall I walk the aisles of graves and hundred names
With flowers full of life financed on furnished frames
Below the wind and warmth of night do whispers woe
In fear I'm not for I care take of those below
For I have seen many a man and woman cry
And I have seen many a man and woman lie
Distilled in death with only breath of the beloved
Mourning above...mornings above heavenly loved
But something is a happening around the night
If not a dream how dost darkness so quicketh light
How frogs appear around lilies that left the fog
Where branches dance with trees beyond their childrens log
As ponds appear upon plateau of grave and sand
And stars above nomadic night come down to land
And voices of the birds play like a violin
And whispers of the wind hum like a hundred men!
It is at this moment that wings appeared to be
Uplifted from the back of her in front of me
Dear Angel, ye are he that spoketh write of thee
But in the nude in front of me am I to flee?
With hair in waves and arms extended out to see
Appeared to me...appeared to be...a flame of sea
That swept the cemeteries floor with torch and fire
And all in death consumeth life 'twas her aspire
A paradise on earth and wedding full of life
As they I have buried myself were full of light!
Women and men and children spread
A graduation of the dead
Ceremonious gift of beings
Thy conquered death, thy wearest wings!
Forth in her hands were flowers of a thousand-fold
And when she walked her footsteps formed a flood of gold
With every step a flower from her drew to ground
In mystic motion as she moved her wings would sound
Just like a brush of wind, angelic crystal wings
Face of fertility that wore a crown of rings
Unselfish all in all with fingernails of fire
Did pierce my heart into my soul a strong desire
To learn to love and love to live and live to give
Yes even in the dire darkness something lives
Believe me not and no one shall when I doth tell
The timid night I heard an Angel's voice exhale
Oh Angel it is thy that is in sacred stone
That came to me in flesh and now thy flesh is gone
Johnny Sumler
June 17, 2011
Angels In Cemeteries
It stands alone four square, white-washed straw-thatched,
small window panes, black frames, and out back chickens hatched,
pecking weedy ground around a single willow.
Set just a little back from single country lane,
high-hedged between the farms with tracks for bumpy tractor rides,
strong arms to try and guide wobble wheels on hardened sun-dry ruts,
to draw trailored dung across winter's dark and muddy fields.
Father's fingers, numb with frost by hand-picked sprouts,
with dawn's dim light not yet bright enough to warm his back.
And hundred weights of summer grain on neck and shoulder,
staggered through barn doors to store, to tip hessian sacks piled high,
sack upon sack.
My mother, crushed and bruised at milking stall,
squeezing squirting teats to fill the milking pale,
to complete them all before mucking out the dung and straw,
then moving on to something more which bends the back
and rubs sodden foot sore in chilled hoof-trodden boot.
This was no Eden's garden which followed war enough to harden
even softer souls.
Yet, it was a paradise for smaller feet to roam free among the fields,
not caring when to make for home and sup on sprouts that dad had picked
and mum had peeled, and soft cooked, with such hard labour,
all overlooked by youth, and by youth's youthful ignorance.
For some, certainly for dad, and for mum,
Eden's garden gave way to thistle and to thorn,
and to sweated furrowed brows serving children's carefree days,
and precious hopes for first and second son.
These rode upon the carts and crossed the dykes in leaky barrels
and threw their stones at tethered bull not caring for the weather,
whether fine, or whether dull, or whether small gloved fingers numbed with chill.
For them that Eden's garden was a Paradise still,
and though choking staining seed was sown, it was not yet grown,
and eyes not yet exposed to serpent's smaller gardens,
composed for ever younger eyes, for the tainting and enslaving of ever younger lives.
That wiley snake now lurks and lies inside dark orchards of delight,
a world explored unseen from pillowed comfort,
and sometimes in the darker night with a different sky blue light,
that Eden web now known world wide, that Eden made with fallen pride,
that Eden oft obscene, that Eden all of lies, that lies behind the pixel screen.
Covered with your mantle you spirited me away
that form held my emotion held me in its sway
herefore you could view me soul as clear as glass
wish do I its movements desire never it to pass
Vision upon vision opened mine eyes to see
need to build this life for all of humanity
I want to take your hand and lead you to the door
fill you with inspiration and lift you even more
I can build a ballroom much greater in my mind
dance upon marbled floors the room I did design
where the frames are gilded with silver and with gold
here the strings of harps the listeners ears enfold
I want to take every pain from you away
and when you wake tomorrow for nothing more to pray
want you to understand I wrote this just for you
ever seek your happiness where Love’s unbroken true
I never want you lingering in the house of vain
I want to see you dancing with joy in life’s refrain
to paint with every color and play with every hue
to wake with a song in heart and share the things you do
If I could but reach you and your spirit mend
shelter all your feelings your life would I defend
I would give you blue skies the mists of gentle rain
flowers in the springtime an earth that’s rich in grain
But someone has already given all these gifts
meant them for everyone and not as man permits
but you must keep seeking to fill yourself in kind
always to be generous in actions and in mind
To find a fluent master who can teach you the right way
examine all of learning apply it in every day
from a little seedling did the tree of knowledge grow
until you can reach for life and the beauty of it know
When you think your well is empty
and the depths within are dry
get up and seek the water
and to its sources fly
don’t linger in the darkness
and traditions that are blind
in life to be exalting
but you its paths must find
Life is a kind of music
and fathomless its array
it takes time and practice
to master the chords you’ll play
Take in life’s instruction
examine all in it that’s good
make your heart and mind the temple
and its teachings understood
COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC?
The steps come easy
Almost hurried as I tread
The uneven trail before me
The sun is low in the sky
Distracted by the long
Angled shadows
Before me
Brought back to you
By the rushing sound
Of your breathing
Like a stony brook
I reach for you with
My eyes
My hand
I take hold of your smile
As my groping fingers
Stroke the small of you
We see in us
The other’s lust
Compelled by anticipation
Bottles clank to my side
As we descend the
Bluff above the river
You take my hand for keel
As your other is bundled
With music and quilt
We find our spot
That secret spot
Bathed by the whole day’s sun
There is shade in reach
But it’s the sun we seek
Chilled by the morning mist
As I knelt
We spread our quilt
Cornflower blue
Where clover eagerly grew
Placing my bundle at the head
Our riverside bed
Frames us like a
Masterpiece…
lit by the
Late morn sun
Hours we’ve spent
Upon wine, cheese and laughter
Drunk on smiles and lust
Have us we must
As the breathing grows
Rapid and musical
Moans of hunger
Filling the air around us
Joining the singing birds
And dancing trees
Our bodies move as one
Locked in the rhythm of all
Like pixies of spring
Undressing slowly
Taunting on the breeze
Sunlight hot upon
The angles of us
Soothing deep
Melting into the
Melting of you
Reaching over
My shoulder
Moonlight sonata
Gently echoes across the water
The music enters in
The midst of us
Tickling the ends of us
Driving our dance so smooth
We draw on our wine
Crimson and fine
And merge the delight
With a kiss
I nibble the flesh
From nape to breast
Easing scrapes with
Ministrations… soft and wet
Feel your blades
On my back
Shoulder to thigh
Tickling my eye
So naughty – take
My breath away
Kisses long and deep
Breathing passion
At the others gasp
Feel my hardness trace
Deftly the center of you
Break our embrace
Kissing a trail to
To the scent of you
Hearing our music
As I do… you offer
You to me, frantic
Wet, setting my pace
Grinding the face
That’s grinning through
Your desire
Dripping…
Off of the corners of
Of my thirst
I taste of my wine
And mix it with thine
As we taste us
Upon the Mage’s grape
Flesh quivers and begs
Girded with legs
A tempo in flux
Beethoven conducts
My bow across
Your cello
Sweet medley of
Body language refrain
Haunting and deep
With a key to the keep
Tis a trembling click
The door spasms ajar
It’s heard from afar
As the passion of the meadow screams back.
The slowing whine as it came to rest
A spacecraft settled down
Like a mother bird into its nest
Glowing there green and round
Smoke spewed from open ports
The air smelled of gas
Little men came out of doors
And laid upon the grass
There soon formed a crowd from town
Peering at this awesome sight
The spacecraft there coming down
And glowing in the night
The mayor spoke and said he knows
What to feed these creatures green
They feed on French tomatoes
And drink the juice of beans
This is why they landed here
By this garden in the grass
But first to have a nice cold beer
From a large and frosty glass
Now arrived the TV news
Those men of truth renowned
And started doing interviews
To spread the word around
Camera trucks and many more
Big frames of antennae
Microphones by the score
And dishes ten feet high
Beaming waves of HD pics
Popping flashes all around
Sending data high speed flicks
Of the creatures on the ground
Throbbing cables glowing hot
Plugged in every place
Trying to get a camera shot
Of the first from outer space
To scoop this scene
Would guarantee
A place for them
In history
If one could see from outer space
The light from each ones screen
Glowing back in every face
As they peered at those men green
Then finally in a casual way
One begun to speak
In a manner rather cool to say
We come to here in peace
Our trip was going very well
Between some outer stars
When a passenger ask do you sell
Those peanuts grown on mars?
I am the steward here
I serve folks while we fly
Bean juice and good cold beer
And peanuts you can buy
Many times our flights are long
My supply of things run out
We know if things go wrong
The captain starts to shout
We had just crossed the great black sea
A dreadful place to span
This chap had then just beckoned me
For bean juice, another can!
I opened up the saucers store
To take his order back
And It was empty, was no more
The captain blew his stack
We were only half way there
How long here who knows
But the captain does not care
If we need French tomatoes
Our snifter found your plot
This garden full of greens
French tomatoes all you’ve got
And the juice squeezed from beans
Fear not earthling creatures
And even though we’re green
Maybe strange our features
But our nature is not mean
Steward sir, get the door
Our loading it is done
We now have filled our store
Goodbye ..to everyone!
Don't ask your heart,
Don't blame it,
Don't chastise your heart,
Don't scorch it,
Make yourself assured
You grasped a true love,
That would never short,
Because I made it as hard love.
I will fill each hole of your heart
To have it eternally to my heart
I swear to my vains and pains,
I will gain the rains of love
Like grains to my brains.
The world was made for love
In animals we have doves
They love themselves without rivalry
That's why they live gourdly.
Don't ask a gourmet about Garri
I swear by the moon and the stars
That live in your steeped heart.
I swear by the love that hankers
To instil in your heart,
I swear by the wisp grins
Of your soft swathed chins
That were dabbed by my lips
I will love your lilac lips.
I will miss your smile,
You are always as my smile.
I will never forget your face,
You are always my pace,
No girl is so worthy in my space,
You are a buttress of my smile
My heart stayed as a wimp
In your love; it can't swim
Your blood is my heart's pool
Your love is much full
I swear by your breathes
That are under my heart's beneath
I swear by your heart's blood
That sprints like a heavy flood
I swear by your eye lashes
That are so hot like high school's lashes
I swear by your trachea's sighs
That allows sweet sighs
To overflow as my heart's sighs,
I will love thee as mine,
Because you're always in my mind.
Sweet love never dies
Sweet love always shines
Sweet love is always my tea
You're a sugar in my tea
By which it tastes thee
Your fragrance fills the atmosphere,
Your sweats dissolve the hydrosphere
Your skin that sways fluently
And the muscles that internally
Hoarded around your bones,
And your bloods within your bones,
I will never forget your love.
It is a long and narrow poem
That goes with touching tones
Your message is a poem
That chirps a melodious tones
Your steps always sound
In my heart's lounge
I will be triumphing your name
I will be caring your name
I will be in your name's fame
Your name will be a game
That I will be hunting as a game
You are frames that frame
My body like a door frame
Your heart will be a legitimate
I'll never be something intimidate
Only those that are magnates
In love will be magnates
That will purchase your heart's magnets
I have a good chiaroscuro
That will let me get a Goro.
1
i know the world enough to where i can walk through forests &
dodge each blade of grass, defy the likes of definition & let my breath
just pass. magic is meaningless, tricks & illusions based upon the
trick of the eye, the human factor, the inevitable blink. magic transformed
upon awakening, realized itself contradictory & sulked back onto the
shelf. the need for entertainment has (at last) been relinquished. adults
have had their skulls picked apart by the young, each undesirable portion
tossed away. there goes [war&worry&work&waste] in the name of
simplicity, in the name of Taste.
2
it's humorous how you rely on the movement of picture frames from one
corner to the next, doing the same things, saying the same things,
never leaving anything to question. ignorance is bliss, little miss-
i took Their dirtynailed hand & let Them lead me, sure They'd know
where exactly it was i was supposed to go. despite growing weary
under the weight of hesitancy, still the hand pulled me on, dragged
my breaking body as it cracked with each step.
3
this is maturity, this is guidance, this is something i you we all go
through-- & if i don't? --then you'd be one lost lost little girl, wouldn't
you? i know my god never said that freedom is a sin, that choice is
wrong. his words are lyrics that formed the every alternative, yet you're
reflexive refusal is drowning out his song. no wonder the innocents
have ceased to dance, have remained seated in silent penance for a
deed they can't recall.
4
it was something offhand in the beginning, without logic, almost but
not quite insanity- this continuous idea/phrase/thought that was said
by accident. (do you remember how words really sound?) bombarded
by the repitition, hammer on the head, death without dead- (watch the
welt rise & turn red). i'll just say i understand, even though i don't.
5
elevate each bone in the skeleton until each one points up, focus
on the relinquishment of order as you spread your eyes wide open.
the lids roll down the kneecaps, & fall back to the dark side of the
skull, exposing the body in its most gruesome beauty. the pupils
fuse to one & dilate to envelop the heart. exercize the foreign
concept of patience & go through this pain to achieve this pleasure.
upon acceptance of self-noself, nirvana is grasped.
I was rather informed on definitions but on time frames, not so much. I was anticipating an experience never realized for more than 150 years. The sun, moon, and earth were orchestrating one giant and rare exposition. When I heard that a Supermoon was coming on January 31st, I said, "This I got to see".
I, a mortal with a far lesser task, did something very wrong yesterday. It was absolutely unnecessary and wrong for me to get up before 2:30 AMPT. It was simply too early for me to be gazing at the moon on a chilly winter's morn. Moreover, such unnecessary and inexcusable time was just wrong no matter what. I also did something very right yesterday, and it wasn't yielding the 'right of way' to a wrong way driver. It was courageously right for me to get up early this morning, and accomplish my goal because I refused to be denied seeing a Supermoon.
At 2:28 AM, the moon could be seen from just outside of my front door, looking straight up into the western sky. It was not as large as I had anticipated but very bright. Besides, I would soon learn that I was too early and I was in for a little wait to really benefit the best show of the Supermoon. At 3:55 AM, I noticed a partial eclipse beginning to take shape. At 5:50 AM, from my back window, with excitement I beheld a Redmoon. At 6:18 AM, there was a great view of the eclipse. At 6:49 AM, the great view of the moon is breaking up. At 6:54 AM, the veiw of the moon had disappeared and my moon watch was over. 02012018 PS