Long Frozen Poems
Long Frozen Poems. Below are the most popular long Frozen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frozen poems by poem length and keyword.
S Silent One suggests poetry as therapeutic endeavour
I ‘Is there a special place where the ink flows forever …’
L ‘Like pain placed in a paper bag scattered like a dead man’s ashes’
E Engraved on the tombstone of poems and fictional flashes
N No need for cremation for ink on paper from a deep fountain
T Teases sorrow pleasure and wisdom to reach for the mountain
O ‘Only the moon understands’ that lunar eclipses fade away
N ‘Nature’s pallet has turned my golds to grey’ but I will stay
E Ending what I started while having lived in meaningful replay
07th February 2021
This is an acrostic tribute to Silent One
‘Is there a special place where the ink floes forever’ is a line
from Silent One’s poem ‘Where do we poets go’
‘Like pain placed in a paper bag scattered like a dead man’s ashes’
is a line from Silent One’s poem ‘Poetry numbs the pain’
‘Only the moon understands’ is a poem written by Silent One
‘Nature’s pallet has turned my golds to grey’ is a line from
Silent One’s poem ‘Frozen soul in silent stillness’
Our freedoms imprison us.
Even now we want more than we need,
tho' we do not yet know what we want.
We do without knowing,
we know without doing.
We do without nothing.
Scaremonger the tip of our iceberg hearts.
This is this race of a thousand false starts,
and we, the runner, the player of parts.
We with the stones and the broken glass's.
You with your runaway greenhouse gases.
Her heart still molten,
we've frozen these assets.
This horse is gone,
yet we search for the locks.
We look to the skies,
we watch all the clocks.
The second hand,
our second thoughts.
This futile search,
these last resorts.
This weight of extinction is heavy,
shackling life's gift of buoyancy,
of optimism.
It pulls us under the rising tide of humanity.
We belong to the future,
it does not belong to us.
It is the eighth hour of shadowy fog,
And she writhes on dampened sheets
with frozen anguish thawing minutes
weighed on jagged umbra of night's hoot.
Somehow, silhouettes of light
begin to kindle as
the bleak of hours mirror
her own disquiet from love's demise,
remembering faces of kin
smelling of tar and mint , knitting arms
flamed though morn's play,
then doused by ink of eve ~
all gone in a flash.
She quivers quietly hums her way
through the glass pane,
this time aware that she inhabits
life gently , slowly;
her long shadows of fear,
of abandonment, of venial sins
desecrating her newfound grip
of wholeness... not anymore.
A softer breeze blows his way
And a sunny day shines everywhere
Painting the sky blue and grey.
But those hues are not for him,
For him it's dark everywhere
As if the earth never rotates
And dark moon stays frozen in place,
Like a perpetual solar eclipse
Dark of the world stays transfixed.
Of all the people he would like to see,
He would like to see his wife's face
In the twilight evening-sky bestows
When her loving posture glows
As she points to a beautiful rainbow.
As he hears the birds chirping
One thing he does regret:
He's never seen a bird's nest,
Having heard the hatchlings' cry
Never has he seen the birds fly.
When he walks his child to school
As people frolic in the day's glitter,
Of all the things that come to mind
One thing has bothered him for a while:
He has never seen his daughter's smile.
There are no road signs for him
Only the wisdom hand guides his path.
With borrowed eyes he works his farm,
And rides the wind to spin a ball,
And swings a bat with a mighty call.
Having felt this power in Angel's eyes
He wonders what God looks like.
Among the many friends he has
His wife is his best friend.
Among the people who love him
She is the best, love could ever find.
While all his friends believe in him
His wife is the only one who thinks
Her husband is not blind.
I open up my eyes on this dark November morn
Up bright and early at the very crack of dawn
When the sun she ascends I am happy to admire
As I dress in my warmest winter attire
Then gently make my way down towards the sea
For the sight of her waves always fills me with glee
Hearing her voice so powerful and low
Watching in reverence her ebb and her flow
Holding my breath at waves twenty foot high
When her band of white horses come galloping by
The spray from their hooves refreshing my skin
They are pounding towards me inviting me in
So tempting are they on this November day
Sheer beauty and power as her waves they do tower
I am drawn to her side so majestic is she
Her call loud and clear ~ though I must not adhere
And watching in awe her sheer power I adore
Frozen to the spot and completely mesmerised
As ten thousand white horses gallop into the skies…
Written 14th November 2020
Contest YOUR RHY-ME
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Looked up this morning, no clouds overhead
So happy I screamed like a banshee
What greater seduction than smelling fresh air
With the breeze caressing my gee-gee
As I stand here naked as the day I was born
Only one thing has entered my psyche
Put on some clothes, you silly old twit
Your gee-gee is frozen, by crikey
Must have been a great party last night
Can't remember my first or last name
As I take a quick peek at my poor little gee-gee
Must have played some pretty rough games
Sure hope I don't get that hammered again
Can someone please find me some clothes
I'll quietly ride off in my beat up jalopy
In case to some girlie I proposed
© Jack Ellison 2013
You can't trust them
Tangle in the spider webs mind
You see reflection of your outer soul
It shows the wages of time
In every line on once so smooth a surface
You smile
Creams, powders, stretching, the knife
Once youth escapes it can not be recaptured
Only remembered
In old photographs, home movies
Images Reflected
A moment capture
Frozen
Before
Since
Once
Vanity is pride in denial
No you can't trust them
Mirrors never speak the truth but they show it
Love yourself old and your heart stays young
A breath of reality swooshes the spider webs clear
You can trust them
Life is good
You smile.
People tell you to let go
As if every loss is something that just happened
Something physical that once existed
But some of mine never did
I don’t just grieve the ones I lost
I grieve the people they never had the chance to become
I wonder what my sister would laugh like now
And if her hair would still be pink
If we’d call each other when life got hard
If we’d have grown into better friends
I wonder how age would have changed my mom
Whether she’d have wrinkles around her eyes from smiling
Whether she’d have grown her hair long
If she’d still be playing the same song on repeat all day long while finding something to keep busy
If she’d be spoiling my children with love and things I said they didn’t need
There are conversations we’ll never have
And pictures I will never take
Those are the hardest things to just let go
Because they never got the chance to happen
“What if” is a strange place to live
Nothing grows
But nothing dies
Time doesn’t pass there
The possibilities stay frozen at the exact moment they became impossible
They were never real enough to live
Only real enough to grieve
It’s like they’re waiting for a future that I know will never happen
Sometimes a smell creates false hope
Sometimes it’s an old song
A birthday or a holiday that used to be full
A child saying something they would have loved
An ordinary moment reminding you someone just isn’t there
And suddenly you feel it
You’re mourning a life that only ever existed in imagination
In the land of “what ifs”
People think grief is missing what you had
But sometimes it’s missing what you never got
The sister who would’ve become your best friend and secret keeper
The mother your children would’ve called for when they scraped their knees
The version of yourself formed by the presence of loved ones
I think that’s why “what ifs” hurt so much
You’re left with questions
And because no answer ever comes…
The questions never stop asking you
A banner flutters in miniature pride,
stars frozen mid-waltz, stripes folding
like gentle waves—
a tiny chorus of red, white, blue.
I imagine the seam of that paper flag,
its edges serrated like hopeful teeth,
waiting to bite into air,
to sail across neighborhoods on whispered wings.
Each star is a promise—
a small light in a massive sky.
Each stripe, a pulse:
resilience, unity, churned history distilled
into red—blood, courage, sacrifice.
At the bottom: FREEDOM—
a single word anchored in gray,
soft as ash and loud as a marching drum
pressed into one corner,
a vow to endure beyond the moment.
I see letters etched beneath fingers,
penned in midnight lamps—
love letters to mothers and soldiers,
invitations to lonely birthdays,
apologies and confessions sent
with trembling stamps of hope.
On this paper flag, we bind our stories.
It’s less about the pride of nations,
more about the weight of our words
and the silent faith that someone, somewhere,
will hold that flag
and read our hearts.
First life in water
providing shelter.
Water in kettle.
so sad to settle.
Water in lake, pool,
tranquil, calm cool.
Water sings in spring,
Charms and Cheers to bring.
Waterfall frolic,
restless dynamic.
Water in river,
flowing forever.
Water in ocean
Extending vision.
Water falls through rains.
Harvesting explains.
Water stuck in Ice
Frozen, solid, nice.
Water shines in dew,
Silvery view.
Water underground
Earth's reservoir found.
Water in oasis
solves desert -crisis.
Water flows in tears:
Deep dolor to bear.