Long Golden thread Poems
Long Golden thread Poems. Below are the most popular long Golden thread by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Golden thread poems by poem length and keyword.
Return Of The Tyke
Tyke, tyke, tyke' they’d chant to bait the bairn.
But insult hurled at Yorkshire folk is water off a back.
Take it, use it, grind it through the crank
As fuel for the fire, grist to mill.
Man as boy the tyke unwraps his bike.
Ride a mile, another ten. No stopping, pumping into the blood.
Cycle, eat, drink. Eat, drink, cycle.
Life’s biggest problem, darkest mood, cured in the turn of a pedal.
Through God’s own country
A yellow jersey pulls a golden thread.
Up fell down dale, through Yorkshire’s warp and weft,
It’s cruelest contours purled,
A bright new yarn weaves into the fabric of the hills.
Past mill, past gate, past pit-head dead, history’s milestones marked.
The ride is metaphor, the towns tell out my story.
Otley, Ilkley, Asgarth, Hawes.
Mum at factory, Grandma, The Black Bull - still standing.
The first sip of warm beer.
Mallerstang, Fleet Moss, Tan Hill.
Simonstone, that teacher, my Dad, Wensleydale and Granddad Thompson.
The Scar, the Cove, the Stang – part of us in every crevice, crook and corner.
Muker, Reeth, Masham, over cattle-grid, up the switch-back,
Buttertubs - Buttertubs - Buttertubs.
Suck at the air, tramp on the pain, tyres spit rubber, spit grit.
It’s all about the climb. Locked in battle against the gradient.
She’s out to hurt us, here to make us suffer.
In sickening waves her sweet call comes to quit, to quit,
To quit this spiritual ascent.
Up ahead, on the tarmac one by one, the giants of the fells swing into sight.
Robinson ‘55, Hoban ’68, doff your cap to Tommy Simpson
And Beryl Burton, she showed the lads a clean pair of heels.
I close the gap and hear them urge: “We too were once like you.
Ordinary.”
My own story is forced out,
Spat through bleeding gums and panted breaths it comes
“I’ll catch you, catch you, catch you.”
In Oxenhope and through Cragg Vale
Spirit generations line the streets “Make us proud son, make us
proud.”
We race by in a flash. As lives lived, as lives past.
One evening,
When final stage is done and life turns back to dust,
Take us back to the mountain top. Pause a moment as the weather turns,
Then set us free in the teeth of a gale.
I’ll call them on, those that struggle through the sleet and hale, soft and
strong.
As I myself, one morning, was called.
© Ben Hodgson 2014
Across the dance floor, your soft sashaying gown flew
with its bright waving gleams of silver dust and blue;
within that blessed gaze, lonesome heart jumped a beat
seeing those golden slippers on your dainty feet,
feeling love's welcomed arrows shot by Cupid's bow
knowing that most treasured gift would forever grow!
That cool June night we walked under golden moon's beams
with your heart and soul gifting love that so redeems;
this man that had lost heart and walked a blind path
death long ago condemned this soul to darkest wrath,
torn asunder joy in life that had been a gift
chained this spirit upon a black-ship set adrift!
Loss of my beloved I once lived blind despair
wading through this evil world's black pits without care;
her sweet love reminding me of Hope that was lost,
found anew when your destined path with mine was crossed.
I saw the world with open eyes but could not see
Faith, till sight was laid upon fair beauty of thee...
Your rosy warmth danced with grace thawing my cold heart,
seduced by rousing rhythm never would we part.
My heart began to waltz and pallid pulse did race
as I saw charmed moonlight caress your angel’s face,
I longed forevermore to tilt your chin and kiss
your promising sunrise lips of heavenly bliss.
That early summer’s eve I took a leap of faith
willing to let go of my haunting lost love wraith,
I found with you the heart to fall in love once more
and glissade you in my arms ‘cross life’s ballroom floor.
Alone in love’s spotlight of golden moon beam’s glow
you have my whole attention for you stole the show.
Robert Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
June 27, 2018
Poet’s note: Yet again, it was my tremendous honor and privilege to collaborate with with you, Robert. There is an abundance of beautiful poetry overflowing the banks of your heart and soul, my talented friend, and I wade in the lovely flow of your poetic words.. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of being your writing partner and for generously sharing with me in these wondrous poems of love, romance and hope; always hope - the common golden thread that runs victoriously through the weave of our writes.. With appreciation, thank you for another exquisite poetic and artistic experience, my dear friend.
Near midnight, when stars sing their loneliness, my mind boils,
In a sea of thoughts flowing ceaselessly, like a river of memories and unfulfilled dreams,
My soul struggles in the nets of its own reflections,
In an endless search for perfection, like a bird trapped in a cage,
I stay awake, delving into the abysses of my mind, spinning in circles of illusions.
The question haunts me, like an echo in an empty cave: Are overthinkers with restless minds bad?
I always believed so, but now, in a moment of clarity,
I understand that "bad" is not the right word, it's an unfair judgment,
For rarely do you find a soul that thinks too much without being capable of deep love.
The night witnesses my insomnia, when sleep flees from me like a fleeting shadow,
My mind races at a million kilometers per second, losing itself in the desert of thoughts,
Obsessed with every detail of the day, striving to savor life entirely,
But everything has a price, doesn't it?
My thoughts throb from lack of sleep, my eyes burn with tears shed for unfulfilled expectations,
Despite countless scenarios imagined for perfection, the result is exhaustion—tired bodies, aching heads.
You're exhausted, aren't you? And it's all because you love life and want to make sure you're truly living it,
Not just being in the crowd, watching your body live for you.
And in this, there is beauty, a beauty in you,
There is beauty in overthinking,
Like a night flower, opening in darkness, shining in a secret light,
A dance of shadows and lights, a melancholic spectacle of my soul.
In the depths of melancholy, I find a subtle magic,
A golden thread woven through the fabric of thoughts,
My soul soars, even in endless agony,
For in every struggle, in every tear, there is an immortal story,
A story of love, of life, of the beauty of being human.
And so, in the endless flow of consciousness, I lose and find myself,
In a world of dreams and reflections, where magic and melancholy intertwine,
A world where overthinking is not a curse, but a hidden blessing,
A gift of the soul, a quest for perfection, a love that knows no bounds,
And in this endless dance, I find the beauty of truly living.
would you guide me?
be my golden thread, lead me through the labyrinth of my own mind,
help me travel through the deadly twists and turns,
would you protect me from the beasts inside?
i am empty, a shell, an apparition
a ghost
i lurk in the corners; invisible, transparent
you’ll never see me
but it’s ok,
i am used to pain and terror,
used to being used,
comfortable with being uncomfortable,
ok with not being ok,
but maybe you could fix me?
even if it’s temporary,
give me a band aid and a butterfly kiss,
just to hide the wound, to make it pretty
cover it up, conceal it
conceal, conceal, conceal
never show them anything, honey
hide your feelings, honey, hide every last one
the depression, the angst, the sorrow,
dig a hole in the sand box,
use the plastic shovels and cover them all up,
bury them down, deep, deep, deep
but could i give you some of my demons?
could i transfer a few to you?
could i give you a little piece of me,
a souvenir, a little keychain
thanks for visiting the desolate, foreign lands of my thoughts,
hope you had a nice stay
could you clip it to your backpack?
look at it sometimes and think of your trip
think of me,
remember me, maybe
even if it’s only for a second
baby could you think of me?
because with you, the words come easy,
with them, they stick in my throat
a ball and chain around my tongue,
forcing it down my throat
‘shut up, honey’ the shackles hiss
‘shut your ugly mouth’
i listen
i swallow them down
i won’t throw those words up in front of them
i’ll purge them tonight
when i’m alone in my room, lights off, pen in hand
i’ll throw them all up, every dirty confession
spit them up in the bathtub,
wash them down the drain
i’m a mess, honey
a tangled spool of thread
unknot me, baby
pull apart every loop, smooth me out
take me and sew something pretty
something sentimental, something meaningful
oh god, i’d love to be something meaningful
a movie ticket stub from a first date,
a lock of baby hair,
a letter to a first love,
take me, all my tangled mess
and create something amazing
we could be beautifully stitched together, baby
-e.g.
In a world of broken mirrors and half-forgotten dreams,
The elites weave webs of augmented unrealities, keeping souls captive.
In the vast labyrinth of the internet, fragments of truth mix
With delicate lies, like butterflies trapped in the amber of night.
There, experience shatters into a kaleidoscope of fleeting illusions,
Pretenses of importance rise and fall like shooting stars.
Endless prompts pierce the darkness of the mind, whispering how to live,
How to conduct our lives, how to shape our bodies into dreamlike forms.
With every click, a new mask to buy, a new idol to admire,
With every scroll, the shadows of fear and desire silently lurk.
Wishes, fears, all slip through our fingers like the sands of time,
And in that unceasing flow, we forget to seek our own essence.
We dream ethereal dreams, captive in the unseen chains of deceived realities,
In a world where truth is a specter dancing on the edge of the fire.
The elites keep us prisoners, in a theater of shadows and fleeting lights,
In a dance of self-loss, where each mask hides another mask.
In the technological night, we move like marionettes without strings,
Bearing on our shoulders the burden of illusions sold as sacred jewels.
Under the cloak of appearances, our hearts forget to beat for truth,
Wandering lost in the labyrinth of algorithms dictating our every step.
Yet still, somewhere deep in the shadow, a flicker of revolt glimmers,
A burning desire to break the chains and see the pure light.
In the midst of this dreamlike world, melancholy calls us to awaken,
To lift our gaze from the dust and find our souls in the mirror again.
In the fragments of augmented reality, we may find a way of escape,
A golden thread leading us back to the lost essence.
And thus, like wizards of our own destinies,
We will learn again to see beyond illusions, to live in the light of truth.
Thus, amidst broken dreams and deceptive shadows,
Let us seek our true selves, to reclaim our lost souls.
In a dance of light and darkness, let us build a new reality,
Where magic and melancholy merge, revealing the pure beauty of existence.
When walking in splatter of Spring's anticipated rains
blessed is the youth in you, if wearing no shoes;
further given if you can then see rainbow hues
thus finding such fantastic sights halt great worries and pains.
Such fleeting rewards fly by with blossoming paradise sails
should you bask in that magnificent soft warm glow;
savor precious moment, follow which way it blows
casting care to the wind, seek victory that never fails?
As smiling blue sky, clears to send you a most wondrous day
your heart explodes in radiance of sacred gifts
with sunny joy bestowed as clouded spirit lifts -
hope’s appreciation cupped in hands; precious golden ray.
Sweet tears of joy that bring us back to laughter of our youth
when colors filled our world not overcast with doubt,
and purest pleasures bloomed and new ideas did sprout
from creativity’s simple seeds sown in fertile truth.
So for a time give wings to worry’s flight from your pained mind,
your future’s not as bleak as life would make it seem;
bare feet can splash in puddles neath a rainbowed dream,
life’s pleasures in your golden age still there for you to find.
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
July 9, 2018
Poet’s note: My dear friend Robert, your enchanting inspiration has worked its magic, once again, for generating yet another radiant collaborative experience. It’s was with wonderful pleasure that I enjoyed the opportunity to write with you this meaningful poem of hope and happiness as one grows older… the golden thread of hope continues to weave its way through our writes and I’m proud of the tapestry our words do create. I relish the privilege of being your writing partner, it is my lovely joy and an honor. Your superb poetic talent and insight gives your poetry a lustrous quality and a rich value that I treasure. It is with my truest appreciation that I call you, my friend. Thank you Robert.
In the heart of twilight, shadows murmur ancient incantations,
a silent symphony echoes through the corridors of my soul,
how can I begin anew, with the weight of past days
clinging to my heart, roots entangled
in memories, ever-present, yet invisible.
Through the corridors of wind-swept times, I wander,
a pilgrim lost in the vastness of my own histories,
each moment a pearl on a golden thread,
its brilliance heavy, a chain of yesterdays
binding my wings, a song of lingering shadows.
Dawn is a promise, an untouched canvas,
but my fingers tremble, stained with the ink of the past,
how can I paint tomorrow’s rays, when the sunset still persists,
its colors bleeding into the dawn sky,
a silent protest against the birth of something new.
In the garden of my mind, old flowers wither,
their bittersweet perfume, the memory of another time,
each petal a turned page, a lived story,
how can new buds burst forth, when the soil is saturated
with echoes of past days, roots deeply imprinted
in the sacred earth.
The river of time flows, an eternal current,
yet in its depths, the shadows of yesterday swim,
how to navigate these waters, to find a new beginning,
when the undertow of the past pulls at my heart,
its whispers a siren song, drawing me back to shores
paved with fragments of who I once was.
But perhaps, in this dance of shadows and light,
there lies a hidden grace, a gentle acceptance,
that echoes of yesterday need not be chains,
but threads woven into the tapestry of my becoming,
each memory a brushstroke, not a burden,
a part of the whole, the story revealed.
For the moon rises as the sun sets, an eternal cycle,
and in this cosmic rhythm, I too can find my place,
how to begin anew, I wonder,
embracing the symphony of past days,
letting them sing, but not define the melody,
for in the depths of the heart, possibility blooms,
a phoenix reborn from the ashes of what once was.
A song the radio I couldn't help quote
Parachute, oh Parachute, please forgive me I had to
I love the melody, the message and it made me wonder so intently
who is this she that is love
Is she near or far
could she be sitting next to me on the bus, the freeway
a face I'd never recognize
could she be even in a red dress and alone walking beside me
A whole new world, an Aladdin style romance
would it be all in her eyes
Who could she be; the mystery is haunting, daunting, taunting
Everyday I wake up with the thought
the song in my pocket for good measure
hoping for a simple single second
a portrait of her face pieced together with her name would
appear like an epiphany in a dream
I enjoy a challenge, I'm enthralled by the chase
but I'd rather not arrive at a day
only to wake up, fall asleep, obsessively wondering the same thing
when she...she could happily content with glancing shortly in my befuddled direction
The game, it's changing
because I once heard a name in my head, eyes closed
a movie playing beyond
and the snap of my concentration forced a name on my birthday
I couldn't place a face to
The suspense, it kills; my face it changes when it crosses my lips
but what can I do, place a face to an imaginary name
for all I know, it could be a trick by lovely but lonely Mother
Self inflection:
this might take years and years and years but I just can't give up
nor wave the white flag of surrender
I get love isn't a battlefield
Sorry, Jordin Sparks, love isn't war
at least so I believe
In the end, she, the love I paint her out to be
she could be the greatest thing to occur in my universe
but with all great things, all great mysteries
let time weave it's golden thread to create a golden quilt
to lift the veil to a golden moment
Please, time, do it in haste
or for my sake, perhaps drop a hint or a difficult riddle
for me?
only so I don't feel this emptiness
anymore
If i could just save one life....
If the words you write can light just one flame,
Ignite the night,
end someone's pain.
We each have one arrow,
life’s bow to string,
Whatever life aims,
let your heart sing.
Take me,
for example,
I’m in life’s arena,
Fighting cancer's shadow,
my spirit’s ballerina.
Smile through the storm,
dance in the rain,
Even when days are tough,
endure the strain.
Some days are tempests,
waves crashing down,
Want to sink in the sorrow,
let tears drown.
But hold on tight,
here’s the way to stay strong,
Face the storm tomorrow,
keep moving along.
Always chase the dawn,
its golden thread,
Don’t look back at ghosts,
they’re better left dead.
Life’s a river,
let your emotions flow,
Free yourself from depression's undertow.
My life's a garden,
each bloom a new chance,
Fight through the weeds,
let your spirit dance.
Some days the rain falls,
chilling and cold,
But the sun breaks through,
your story unfolds.
In this battlefield of life,
hope’s my shield,
Slicing through doubts,
never to yield.
Shadows may cast their spell,
dark and broad,
But light up the night,
you’re the lantern’s prod.
Time ticks on,
each moment a beat,
Dance with the rhythm,
don't accept defeat.
In the storm’s chaos,
find your grace,
Smile through the madness,
keep pace.
Heartbeats are drums,
echoing life's call,
In the symphony of struggle,
rise tall.
Through valleys and peaks,
stand your ground,
In life's concert,
let your strength resound.
Through my pain,
I rise,
a phoenix in flight,
In this game of life,
I burn so bright.
If my words can save,
even just one soul,
Then my journey’s worth it,
I've reached my goal.
Stay strong,
let every moment gleam,
In this life,
climb every mountain,
chase every dream.
With a smile,
face the trials each day,
Live with hope,
let your spirit sway.
In an endless night, under the velvet sky, I lose myself in reverie—
A map spread out before my eyes, white as an untouched manuscript,
For those without imagination, an empty place, a desert of meaning,
But for me, an ocean of possibilities, a priceless treasure.
I gaze at that white spot, that infinite space, and feel my heart beat
Like a bird caught between two worlds, between the realm of reality and that of dreams,
Where every hidden corner, every imaginary line, tells secret stories,
Stories born from nothingness, like crystal flowers in the garden of time.
I lose myself in the flow of thoughts, in a whirlwind of feelings and hopes,
And I see enchanted forests, where trees whisper forgotten legends,
Silver rivers flowing through emerald valleys, their song an eternal echo,
Citadels of light, where shadows dance to the rhythm of the stars.
For others, a barren place, a meaningless point on the world map,
But for me, an open gate to infinity, to parallel universes,
Where every step I take, every thought that crosses my mind,
Becomes a golden thread in the fabric of destiny, a dream turned reality.
And I wonder, in this endless night, under the velvet sky,
What is more precious, a place full of certainties or an empty place, full of dreams?
For those without imagination, a white spot on the map is just a void,
But for me, it's the most valuable place, a sacred space where my soul can lose and find itself.
I return to reality, but my heart remains in that magical place,
A place where infinity meets my deepest desires,
A place where every sunrise is a promise,
And every sunset, a melancholic memory of what could be.
So, in this endless night, under the velvet sky,
I look again at that map, that white space, and smile,
Because I know that, no matter what the world says,
In that empty spot, I found the most precious treasure: the power to dream.