Long Gelid Poems
Long Gelid Poems. Below are the most popular long Gelid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gelid poems by poem length and keyword.
An Indian summer
decamps, marches South
like a defeated army.
Coats are pulled out of closets,
cars winterized.
Wizards in long white robes
hunt the moans of castaway witches.
Autumn memories lure cats away,
but they soon return to the fireplace,
to stretch-out the longer hours.
Babies are coddled closer,
the sky goes blank,
amnesia deleting its colors.
There are omens born on chill winds,
sparrows go mute
in the frosty hedgerows.
November takes off its high-hat
revealing a bald dome,
when you go out alone,
you feel its gelid marrow
hitchhiking its way
through creaking bones.
While gelid breezes of winter, quiver emotions of decaying rays,
And arc of horizon cedes to dusk, evoking grimace of malaise,
Casting shadows tenebrous, shrouding glimmer of a slowing day,
Desperate hope lingers still, in resplendence of autumn’s decay;
Gawking in yonder, where gamboge-orange woodlands fade,
Reminiscing in seasons harkening, realms of love now evade,
Mindful of the broken vows, when grievous calls destiny made,
When forever promises receded, and pledges eternal strayed.
Love now mulls~ if kiss of passion was a subtext of final goodbye?
Was it the last tear of hapless eyes; a bawl of love gone awry?
A silent protest, concealing mindfully, anguish of a forlorn sigh?
Was it the clamor of jilted desires, love enamored chose to decry?
Springs of past summon hope, having risen from wintry throe,
Nights of nightmare cede to dreams in halo of daybreaks aglow,
As candle of love revives hearts, fueled by inspirations of soul,
When whispers of sensuous hints, aspirations of romance cajole.
Desperate hope expounds repentance, vying healing through time,
Unsure if, pleadings in atonement, will redeem future sublime;
Whether love saplings will ever sprout, from ashes of passions bygone,
If dreams forsaken will blossom, in womb of tomorrow’s dawn.
What brought me to this sullen shore...
is not sheer curiousity at all,
but an equivocal question too hard to be answered
even by those whose minds are so cultured!
Pelicans swarm the February's frigid sky over the bay...
like clumsy butterflies greeting a spring's day;
it's past sunrise, and all clouds catch on fire,
fleeting to the western sky to avoid the infernal dire!
I take a brisk walk adventuring in the gelid wind's blows...
as the agitated waves indicate an imminent storm;
unafraid , I lean over the fortress's stones with hands so cold,
to feel the vengefulness of a sea frightening all humans!
It's Saturday mid-morning, I hear a shrill filled with emotion,
and a shivering pelican comes close to where I stand;
he doesn't want the crumbs in my generous hand,
but understanding and much more compassion!
If he could talk and tell of his plight so unspeakable...
I'd listen and make a promise for his survival...
where once limpid waters rolled so brightly,
painted in gold by the solar glow, now they look too murky!
Does he feel great animosity toward us...
we, who build and destroy, kill and terrorize?
And what made him turn to me so fearlessly;
and will we, rulers of this earth, show hiim some mercy?
The autumn wind betrays the green facade,
sweeping crisp brown leaves through the air.
They swirl and scatter to fall beneath the feet
of a secret yearning, an iron tree.
Who's trunk is dotted with splashes of rust,
littered with clumps of grime and dust;
its gelid branches devoid of life
like parched scepters.
Nothing lives in the clearing beside.
There is no birdsong nor telltale sound
of leaves crunching underfoot,
only the rustling of distant bushes and trees,
a trail of fading footsteps and a shadow
who lies, sheltering and huddling
at the metallic base. The rain, wind and leaves
may batter it day on day
but it will wait till the iron tree blossoms
then dissolve to join the silhouette of flowering love.
Earthquakes of bedlam quell
As tectonic plates of emotional instability cease shifting.
The tears of a discarded clown, suspended in animation—
Numbness overtakes.
Masks slip, shattering.
Shards scrape, lacerating apathetic flesh,
Revealing the painted doll underneath.
Remove its colourful costume;
Discover marionette strings embedded within a fraying back.
Strip the howling voices from its waking nightmares.
Feel deadening voids devour any morsel left of a wounded heart,
Whilst balmy plasma metamorphoses into gelid hemoglobin,
Hardening undying devotion into frigid detest.
Titanium walls, reinforced with razor wire, barricade a hollow soul.
For she was mere amusement for the indoctrinated masses—
An illusion of happiness, playing day in and day out.
Listen, as her inviting laugh transmutes into the cackle of hyenas.
Watch the paint, plastered upon an unwilling face, crack one last time.
Her eleventh hour has arrived.
Bear witness to the merciless statuette you birthed.
We already feel in our anxious hearts
a message filled with peace;
and we already hear in the cold air
those angelic voices saying,
" The troubled earth
needs to welcome the Savior,King of Heaven,
to rid of all that's ugly and unfair...
to spread His message of joy that lasts;
giving hope to all who are waiting
for those distant sounds
of His glorious birth!"
On every door hangs a wreath,
and each window is decorated with garlands
and twinkling, bright lights...
to inspire the loveliest carol!
Everyone is waiting for Christmas Day,
and there's a lot to give to all...
jolly smiles and greeting words
or the humblest deeds of caring hearts;
anything given on this wonderful day
is to be rememembered and revered!
O sleepy bells, wake up
when midnight comes
and fill the gelid air
with merry tolls,
to suddenly cheer up
the good hearts of the big and small!
O sleepy bells announce the amazing news...
when the glaring star
illuminates the entire Universe
to make everyone rejoice!
It was on our honeymoon.
We strolled along the seashore
Towards the lonely lighthouse
Our souls bonding our love,
Renewing our marriage vows,
As hand in hand we trudged
Upon the wet sand
Despite the torrential beauty
Of a lonely winter night.
The raucous calls of tired gulls echoed
The thoughts that swirled in our minds,
Urging us towards sweeter dreams,
When all our wishes would come true.
We slowly climbed the rickety steps
That led towards the lighthouse top.
We watched the waves below
As they dashed against the black rocks,
Performing their deathly dance.
We turned inside for respite
From the storm raging outside.
Our souls stirred us into a loving embrace
Our kisses gleamed
As once the lighthouse beam.
We cared not for the world:
Outside the dark night waited
With its frigid gelid grip.
Inside the lighthouse flashed
Like a kaleidoscope of love.
Have you remembered these before
Begirded, by the yellowy maple
Sweeping them in morning's chore
And the first bites of mellowy apple
And the voice dwindling in icy pallid
The evening thrushes nesting over
Your eyelid mere balmy; thawed my heart of gelid
In my heart of gelid, bloomed the clover
Have i remembered these now-
The joyous rhine smoothing down the vale
And the cockcrow kissing your flawless brow
And to you, I speak those times of tale
Never were the asphodel so cheerly
And too cheerly and too softly wave
To the passionate daisy and too the jovial lilly
'Ah fallible love! truly paramour they are; and brave'
.
At the tip of the reclined jade bough,
ornate with fine filigree of emerald foliage,
a floral lattice in the love-laced sapling
blossomed as a flower with a fervent flair.
On the weary wings of the arctic wind
the wilted petals of my florid longing
blew away in the winter of discontent
to the cold cauldron of nowhere.
As my yearning turned into glacial vacuity
in the freezing darkness of the arctic pathway,
I walked forsaken over the frozen flower
along the gelid trail of frigid memory.
I felt the poignant crunch of the flower,
for, then every step was an articulation
of my fragile brittle feeling congealed.
Yet, even if the bruised beauty
got treaded upon the fallen blossom
in the snowstorm raged meadow
I painted its shape-shifted insignia
on the cinnabar canvas of togetherness lost.
In the twilight zone it would glisten
with the patina of residual florid rapture
within our opalescent inner sanctum,
the garden of our real home still verdant,
where the frozen blossom would bloom again.
Near the end of October, a gelid wind blew
and froze the corollas of the dainty daisies;
it came as a surprise, sad was the face of Matthew,
no baseball in the field that echoed with screams!
Arthur, the coach, who used to chew gum and eat chips
sat inside his office checking out the unpredictable weather,
nothing promised a break in the clouds, so he bit his lips;
Lydia's eyes were sad and teary, she was the cheerleader!
The young players decided to play basketball in the Gymnasium,
they didn't really miss the baseball game as much as Tim did
who sat in a remote corner and seemed to experience Librium;
a bunch of kids rushed in not sure for which team they would bid!
As winter bent trees and stripped flowers from all gardens,
inside everybody was having fun cheering for their team;
all the doors were locked and a stranded dog emitted barks,
Cindy came out and let him in as he huffed at Joachim!