Long Galvanic Poems
Long Galvanic Poems. Below are the most popular long Galvanic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Galvanic poems by poem length and keyword.
..for him
A little something in the
scintilla of soporific smiles you left me
beneath dulcet gazing twirls
of ballerina stars amongst a moonlit lullaby,
sitting in the quixotic corners of my
magnolia mind unwrapping whimsical
sestina sensations of every
enigmatic emotion
dreamt up in a sanguine spirit
"I love you,"
a sonnet susurrus poem
you whispered into
vanilla velvet tunes of tranquility
hidden against ballad beats
of fawn furtive fear
of rhapsody rejection..
A chuckle escapes my lips,
perhaps because you
don't seem to know the vesper vividly
uplifting my reviere realm
of harmonic hymns,
watering my galvanic garden
of emeralds and
pulchritudinous peonies
in the withering winter wind.
My vesper,
a chiaroscuro crescendo
in the marigold melodies
of my canvas,
A diaphanous dove breezed
our twinkling topaz
sending us a forbidden feather
of a reckoning reality
drenching in nebulous nectar
flowing threnody thorns.
Are we bound to be as
sailing stars intertwined into a
chalice cosmic dance,
where a foreseeing forever
results to fading slowly
as last sacred notes of a
virgin violin in cozy cynosure cottages
among fowling fireflies
of a deep nocturnal night?
Sweetheart,
must one day I suffer
to bear this life of
longing laminations
without your mystical
mellifluous mourn
to edify dissonant days
with hallowing hope betwixt
dusky ocean shores of serenity,
and seashells
of petal promises?
Inside amaranthine labyrinth
madness and
cauldrons of drowning despair,
you lied as a glimmering garnet
of twilit tercets in an
aethereal autumn sky.
If I achieved my
nirvana aurum and
rhinestone resolutions
to pursue a
gauze penumbra path
cascading a forensic future,
be there alongside me,
so we can create our own roses
of eternity.
There’s a burning yen nomadic deep within entrenched,
to absorb fresh environments ambrosial on foot,
where incidental hue or august colour wash abound,
or that March bloom tantalising shady patch,
with its dreamlike mystic wide-flung allure,
some blue pigment dawn whisper tempting spur on,
that hidden orange-red sunlit prompt I can’t curb,
I follow blindly without oppugning brier cloak
pitfalls,
yet noonday mishap neither blight nor wanton cross,
as other fellow venturers might script a manifold offshoot,
but from sound and slant sentient aspect,
I can awaken fond galvanic episodes,
of uproarious elation emanating from a golden grained beach,
where energetic offspring unleash their zeal,
adjacent to labyrinthine thriving townscapes,
ancient river, the stuff of verse and bard,
parallels its salted surging thunderous ripple,
with its indigo bold rush beneath a stoic wharf.
to capture lush spots
with the pourboire of bright eye
as timeless haven
Yet late phase hours settings have cachet,
in tandem with the peep of day burst,
as I reveal a harvest swept ashore,
flotilla at a dock and day boundary,
so nocturnal bliss enraptured round each plinth,
and plethora of svelte unearthly steps,
where haunted hair-raising halos splash,
adding lustrous night fly element,
beside the raucous alleyway caper,
inchoate, invisible, intriguing inlay,
shards of boisterous daring impishness,
cast at my intrepid moonlit atman,
enigmatic echoes chase skinflint shadows,
whoosh of splintered black ice sepulchral,
under reckless swerving car manoeuvre,
muddy slush speckled rim upshot,
street lanterns wondrous wide arc madrigal,
spoon wink and woo lambent opus,
banisher of eerie eve ghost glow silence
earth atmosphere shall
watch bemused as moonlight orb
peers at globe beneath
There is an urge within me to wander randomly,
to explore in vivid detail each kaleidoscope,
incidental hue or pristine colour I encounter,
or just as likely that tantalising shady patch,
with its dreamlike mystical allure so faraway,
this blue pigment dawn whisper as tempting spur on,
that hidden orange-red sunlit prompt I can’t curb despite myself,
I follow blindly without oppugning brier cloak
pitfalls,
yet noonday mishap neither blight nor wanton cross,
and I glad to extol such plus point impact,
as other fellow venturers might script a manifold offshoot,
but from sound and sentient slant,
I can recant galvanic episodes,
of uproarious elation emanating from a golden grained beach,
where energetic offspring unleash their zeal,
adjacent to labyrinthine thriving townscapes,
ancient river, the stuff of verse and bard,
parallels its salted surging ripple,
with its indigo bold rush beneath a stoic wharf.
to capture lush spots
with the pourboire of bright eye
as timeless haven
Yet late phase hours settings have cachet,
in tandem with the peep of day burst,
as I reveal a harvest swept ashore,
flotilla at a dock and day boundary,
so nocturnal bliss enraptured round each plinth,
and plethora of unearthly steps,
where haunted hair-raising halo splash,
adding lustrous night fly element,
beside the raucous alleyway caper,
inchoate, invisible, intriguing inlay,
shards of boisterous daring impishness,
cast at my intrepid atman,
enigmatic echoes chase skinflint shadows,
whoosh of splintered black ice,
under swerving car manoeuvre,
street lanterns wide arc madrigal,
banisher of eerie indigo silence
earth atmosphere shall
watch bemused as moonlight orb
peers at globe beneath
Emotional sequestration perseverates
across thine time warped
weft wise wold,
sans interpersonal stagnation
flourishes as oft twice told
tale a boat amidst derelict hollowed
moldering scull - sacrificed stranglehold
did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/
friendships get out sold
agonizingly excruciatingly
jujitsu physically writhing
front row seat occupied -
whereat direct view of scaffold
penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa
plagued decades prior fraught
psychological, neurological and illogical
repercussions steam rolled
natural heterosexual propensity
stifling, stinting, and stymying this old
morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting,
hermetically heat sealed,
tightly bound stinging
straitened yellow jacketed
bee devilish mold
hogtied hold, pig in the poke,
xenophobic-ally
fastened, galvanic hold
wrenching vice grippe
fiercely extolled sterile lackluster
human existence devoid cold
hence, imperative ambition
to act forthright and bold
before advanced age
finds this wordsmith additionally auld.
This solitary reader quests doth newt plead
per outreach need
without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead
dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead
me by thine pug nose,
nor doth this passive heretic - heed
ding perseverance
without selfishness nor greed
aye only seek to be freed,
where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed
sharing soulful travails yes in deed
foster repartee with persons no matter creed
faith, intelligence, nationality breed
united by state worthy charisma agreed?
At age three she was the baby who couldn't feel afraid
A life track was set out, just the way she was made
They tested her at eighteen, with images of blood and gore
No galvanic skin response, a smile and nothing more
She lied from early on, another way to control
If you had contact with her, it was bound to take a toll
There are doors we wouldn't open, taboos and virtue codes
But like a moth to a light, she went down those wicked roads
She gloated at misfortune, but had superficial charm
It lowered your defenses when you should feel strong alarm
She was rarely caught or punished, usually won the game
Gaslighted victims in courts of law, never took the blame.
She came toward me one day, emotionless as a rock
Saw me with my child, the change gave me a shock
A look of gleeful sadism, on what had been a normal face
Then she recomposed, the revelation left no trace.
There are people who seek aliens in the depths of outer space
But they should look here on earth, within the human race
No pity is found within our alien's mirthless laugh
Inside them bad emotions thrive, beware the psychopath.
You read about these types sometimes, when the truth comes through
You get angry, feel disgust, maybe despair too.
There's no redemption possible, but do they deserve your wrath?
A mis-wired brain is all you need to explain the psychopath.
Night falls in neon showers
Here in the nocturnal simmer of summer
slick city blacktops spark electric.
The juiced-up take to their cars,
pull into fast food haunts
where glazed eyes
return to two-way mirrors,
others fall without noticing
into a numb subliminal hum
an electric divining of something bad
to come.
An ear crawling buzz,
the static clutter of criminal minds
distorts the crests of overheated airwaves.
distant thunderheads pop like
galvanic mushrooms.
Light bulbs vanish
behind lighthouse eyes.
Under a canopy of magnetic shine
liquor stores promote a glow and fizzle,
a hissing power that backlight's
both beer can and bottle,
and we who drink
are thankful for the way
such strung-out needs carry us
in and out of our dreams
until, of course, as always,
a stark, accusatory dawn
jangles its steel-bright
jailhouse keys.
The air was metallic,
it had the taste of long spilled blood,
the smell of copper pennies.
A red-eyed sky prowled through bare trees
wind-smears sizzled over steel pylons,
a galvanic hissing ignited unseen frights.
Heat and cold were deranged
by magnetic layers of madness,
there was a fizzle of white noise in the hedgerows.
Fractions of atmosphere separated,
flew away.
Feral conditions ransacked the horizon.
Day and night grew weary of each other.
Experts talk of systems
and patterns,
explanations always come
after the land is mauled,
hearts wounded.
No one saw it leave,
it did not move on
it moved inward to rattle flesh and bones,
it remained as zones of uncertainty
as days and nights grow weary of each other.
After the electric storm
cats were found in other parts
alive
but forever haunted by daylight.
When Nature frees the lotus
(This year's debut emergence)
From their sleeping seeds,
When they begin to cress the surface,
I shall stand with broadened smile,
My heart's joy augment threefold;
And when the lillies burst
In galvanic evening's gold,
If the expansion of elation
Don't mean I'm likely doomed
To laugh so hard confined
In the vaulted night perfumed
And if I don't spit out my life
When the lillies shoot their seeds
And no tremors shall have seized my heart
Nor Death, my ticket, heeds:
When Cold caresses the membranes,
Bringing the lillies to rot and break,
Bowing down before the wind,
Their thirst, face down, to slake,
They later will be frozen
On the very coldest day,
Bent into the wickets
Of Spatterdock Croquet.
Form:
The air was metallic,
it had the taste of long spilled blood,
the smell of copper pennies.
A red-eyed sky prowled through bare trees
wind-smears sizzled over steel pylons,
a galvanic hissing ignited unseen frights.
Heat and cold were deranged
by magnetic layers of madness,
there was a fizzle of white noise in the hedgerows.
Fractions of atmosphere separated,
flew away.
Feral conditions ransacked the horizon.
Experts talk of systems
and patterns,
explanations always come
after the land is mauled,
hearts wounded.
No one saw it leave,
it did not move on
it moved inward to rattle flesh and bones,
it remained as zones of uncertainty
while day and night grew weary of each other.
After the electric storm
cats were found in other parts
alive
but forever haunted by daylight.
As if Old Father Time cast down his hoary gaze
to shed a tear of amber upon the world,
to freeze on canvas this instant of perfection,
this loving shadowplay of aged man and young girl.
She sits so small, a china and alabaster doll
wrapped up in the tepid sunset chill
of fires dying distantly; as far as the minds eye
can discern the dance of twilight over dale and hill.
This last waning evening of the month of May,
the old man, galvanic with the rush of seasonal transition,
pushes her upon her silhouetted swing,
love forever frozen in time, locked in this position.
For the tear of amber fell, coalesced around them
orange, flaming yellow and forms of sculpted black;
entombed together in the iris of a slowly setting sun,
content to not look forward, more content to not look back.