Long Harlequin Poems
Long Harlequin Poems. Below are the most popular long Harlequin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Harlequin poems by poem length and keyword.
A post from the past.....just trying to put down all the ones I have written but deleted when I left the site for a while......this is almost too long, but I couldn't find which animal or insect to eliminate.....
Gardens attract a number of guests,
Some are welcomed, some are pests-
Let’s peek inside to get a view,
Of what these guests are really up to-
Honey bees pollinate, wasps sting,
Mosquitoes suck, song birds sing-
Crickets chirp, caterpillars putter,
Grasshoppers jump, butterflies flutter-
Aphids cluster, ladybugs twirl,
Katydids hop, pill bugs curl-
Owls hoot, peacocks prance,
Fruit ripens, damselflies dance-
Leaves sprout, dragonflies catch,
Shrubs grow, chipmunks fetch-
Trees shade, breezes blow,
Blossoms bloom, fireflies glow-
Moths destroy, hummingbirds drink,
Earthworms chew, stinkbugs stink-
Ants march, slugs cleave,
Turtles saunter, spiders weave-
Fish swim, lizards climb,
Toads croak, snails slime-
Fleas vault, frogs leap,
Roaches scatter, millipedes creep-
Hawks soar, rabbits munch,
Snakes slither, beetles crunch-
Mites bite, moles scurry,
Walking sticks cling, termites hurry-
Mice dart, ferrets burrow,
Hedgehogs mosey, voles furrow-
Gophers tunnel, thrips rasp,
Foxes chase, grubs clasp-
Possums play dead, fruit bats roost,
Water bugs float, pirate bugs juice-
Woodchucks eat, rats devour,
Squirrels store, seedlings flower-
Gnats annoy, spittlebugs attack,
Ambush bugs take, cicadas extract-
Scaly bugs secrete, squash bugs infect,
Silkworms spin. lightning bugs inject-
Armadillos dig, water scorpions fight,
Woodborers drill, fruit flies alight-
Root maggots scarf, locusts smother,
Harlequin bugs feast, flower flies hover-
Deer nibble, cats meow,
Mealy bugs attach, dogs howl-
Antlions trap, leaf-footed bugs pierce,
Robber flies rob and hornets are fierce-
Nematodes battle, leafhoppers invade,
Cutworms clip, leafminers raid-
Psyllids drain, cabbage loopers inch,
Weevils infest, earwigs pinch-
Vines extend, doodlebugs grab,
Woodpeckers peck, assassin bugs stab-
Raccoons forage, geese parade,
Praying Mantises capture, falls cascade-
Skunks spray, branches sway,
Upon your plants an insect may lay-
Harvestmen walk, lacewings feed,
Some of these guests your garden needs!
To the legend of silence
that speaks in trembling stillness
I’ve seen your halcyon halo~
that illuminates wilted weeds
and tilted tendrils
unfolding perfumed wings,
allowing sizzling seas of stardust to rise.
But something about the way
your soft skin caresses
my bruised bones,
ignites poetic sparks,
carving scarlet skies of fears
with luminous letters
and nomadic numbers.
Yet I, the mistress of metaphors,
remain hypnotized by the harlequin blades,
in your virtuous garden of butterfly serenades,
searching for a phrase to describe
the selflessness that you
portray,
through jasmine scented analogies.
I empathize with your locked-up tears,
cloaked discreetly beneath feathered sunsets,
for, in solitude, your soulful song soars,
unfolding sorcery from a symphonic tapestry of darkness,
like a broken bandit dressed in lion limbs,
walking through nocturnal nothingness.
I heard the soldier within you
shoulders heavy burdens~
as an aquamarine armored savior,
to the ones that long for petals of peonies~
that emanate healing through peridot gates of your midnight eyes.
Sometimes, I wonder, how you
stand so firm,
unmoved by the wicked winds,
carrying hail of heinous hymns,
unfolding your fingers to weave unerasable auroras
across greyest horizons,
enabling the blind a lilac ladder to the tangerine moon,
where flowers flourish like fairy-dust blossoms.
If only, you can see yourself,
through these words,
maybe then, you will realize,
your picturesque patience
and presence is enough to paint
every wrong right,
amidst the fickle fog against the sharpness of your sight,
I see you as the rainbow star that
sprinkles hope,
upon my anesthetized heart,
there I walk above lunar-kissed ripples,
embracing the empathetic silhouette of your tender twilight.
Tonight I’ll wear sage to sleep,
hug you from miles,
let memories of the sun that thawed wintry thoughts
be the lullaby,
as I look for you, astral waltzing,
to place my cheeks within your empyrean embrace,
where home is a feeling I find with you.
Life is a woman with twilight eyes, wrapped in dresses of unspoken dreams,
Walking barefoot through gardens of time, her steps murmur the sonnets of the ephemeral,
In a silent dance, a waltz of shadows and light, glancing over her shoulder,
On paths where leaves rest, forever falling from the trees of our memory.
She unbraids her hair in waves of melancholy, weaving it with shooting stars,
Memories cast on the night sky, like tears burning on the cheeks of heaven,
She changes her lipstick from the hues of mystical sunsets, kissing the cheeks of her hurried lover,
An eternal Adam, lost in her unseen desires, embracing the moment and eternity.
She, Life, stretches her longing arms, arching over bridges of inverted time,
Embraces the moments, melting them into echoes of laughter and weeping, spinning them into spirals,
A harlequin of fate, with masks of joy and sorrow swapped in the glades of dreams,
Where do you lead us, oh Life, shading our paths with your veil of destiny?
In autumn days, she gathers the rusty leaves, kissing them tenderly, leaving imprints,
The bittersweet blend of sadness and joy, imprinted on threads of thought and resignation,
A nymph of melancholy, with a heart wrought by nostalgia and untamed longing,
Seeking the roots of happiness in the scorched landscapes of the past, where flowers no longer bloom.
Ah, Life-woman, you are the eternal puzzle of our days, questions without answers,
Holding in your hand the key to love and the lock of loss, piercing us with your paradoxes,
In a hypnotic dance, a flow of consciousness that flows, endlessly, in infinite rivers,
Like the wings of the butterfly searching for light in the darkness of your sweet intersections.
With every breath, you dress us in unwritten stories, in your tales of winter and summer,
Your melancholy coming over us, like a mantle of kisses and whispered breezes,
Through the smoke of lost moments, we always glimpse your changing face,
Phantom of the eternal feminine, Life-maiden, Life-lady, Life-woman.
Lost, to the darkness, deep ...
This bleak sojourn I have made times on end,
dipping my eyes to the dreadful forms that mock me,
a maelstrom of words spinning my mind,
to pinch off the oppressive stench of this place.
You have beckoned me, ages hence,
howling and shrieking like a puerile revenant,
'til the discordant consequence I could refuse no more.
Hope, they call you? Oh, such a horrid and cruel parody!
Do you see in me a fool, then? A jaded harlequin?
A multitude of monikers be yours, but THAT is the most absurd,
and it shall not tremble my lips! Have you not known me ...
in all the scratchings of dread and despair - in that stark honesty?
You are the bastard of my passions,
and you have worn this flesh as your own ...
oh, how long I watched from the depths of sorrow
as you danced in my form, somber moon cackling like a demon.
How you strangled the very spirit from my trembling bones,
my marrow sucked like pulpy food for your pleasure.
Such exquisite agony! Such divine misery, mine!
Carnal truth scrapes, raw, the depths of my spirit, with grisly intention ...
The blood of my kind heart, stirred up and imbibed as your remedy,
the clotted matter spit in my face with magnificent madness.
Alas, Dear Oblivion, the ebon sky now weeps ...
stars streaking earthward like ragged rain,
'Til the heavens are as The Torment - lightless, devoid, barren, and bloody.
Thus, the last breath of a saint, becomes the first breath of a monster,
and in feigning prescience of an answer that will never come,
I ask of you, "Hope", in utter terror and awe ... why?
Why do you taunt me so?!?
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Poe In Plath Style" Poetry Contest, July Morning, Sponsor.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Emotional Anger, Hurt, Rage" Poetry Contest, Lewis Raynes, Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Deep and Dark II" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "In the Dark" Poetry Contest, Russell Sivey, Sponsor.
Orange cosmos flowers inside a circle
along with the canna indica flowers;
A big smile of welcome at the front entrance. Followed by Pink, red and yellow ixoras,
the fully bloomed harlequin wonders;
Enthrall butterflies and sun birds
Violet, Red and new comer pink Balsums
are the evergreen shrub
The nonpareil Marvels
Night blooming jasmine flowers
adorn the sideways of the garden;
Meant to engross the moths
The bright yellow alamanda,
the heroine of our garden.
Made us fall in love with yellow
Glittering stars in the morning,
blaze like the diamonds in red and yellow;
The spectacular magic of sun plants
The black night shade plants
bear the inky purple sun berries;
Food for the red vented bulbuls
The Red hibiscus at the corner
attracts everyone's sights
by its innocent grin
The 4'o clock mandharai flowers
unfurl attractive perfumes
and embellish our garden in the evening
Grass green climber braces,
trumpet shaped madevillas,
The small stabs on flowers,
connote attendances of sun birds
Cutest creepers I've ever seen,
amidst the tall green grass;
The metallic blue Verbena
Sometimes our old friends Asian Koels
and our migrating friends Brahminy starlings
visit for their breakfast.
Mynas sing like parrots
and sometimes imitate Koels;
Mimicry Experts they're
Some plants are hostplants
of the common mormons, jezebels,
praying mantis and the signature spiders
Yellow billed blabbers,
the king of our garden;
The faithful defender of our home,
none can step in without their consent.
Squirrels scamper here and there,
and elegant butterflies in the air
proliferate happiness everywhere
Have you ever seen a place like this anywhere?
To embrace glee, you no need to be a Billionare.
Just Visit our garden, you will feel the real bliss, I swear!
She said, if I correctly recall,
That, for her, a sustaining love is an
Absolute prerequisite for what
Would be a total commitment of the
Coupling bodies...and all that
Constitutes the essential parts of the
Eternal Soul;
And I not so assuredly competent
In this - the practice of such a higher
Art!
Adding, some little time later, that
Being so chained, in what she described
As an unfortunate consequence of a
Most regrettable thrall,
To a domineering Harlequin who,
When mindlessly exercising the upper
Whip hand, had neither modest restraint
Or any amount of unimpassioned
Self-control,
Was, in fact, just a flagrant excuse
For a base lust;
Of course this was not to be confused
With the laudable and gallant actions
Conceived within the inner workings
Of a steadfast and more openly honest
Heart.
And was I convinced that I was indeed
Sincere in all my avowed pledges?
And did I truly understand that all her
Troubled life she had tirelessly
Searched for one such as I purported
To, somehow, seemingly be?
How I instantly can bring to mind
Those obscure and doubting mutterings...
Still carrying upon an ill wind I
Should not wonder;
I think of them like the songs of the
Naiads: what woefully remaining
Sounding endlessly above the glassy
Tinkling of a mystical lakeside's
Stiffened and shuffling Sedges;
You a modern-day Danae, infant Perseus
Clutched to your swollen breast, your
Little box, in all its abject
Loneliness, now set adrift upon some
Desolate and open sea.
What turned out, in the end, to be a
Pointless charade. Perhaps; but that
Which, despite shortening periods, whilst
Enduring felt almost timeless.
Then of course this shared guilt...
That will, shamefully I fear,
Forever bind us.
Reflection - The Fragrance of Grace
Mail order catalogs seem to have the ability to procreate in my mailbox. Just when I think I have rendered them infertile they give birth to multiple sets of quintuplets right under my nose as if by magic fertilization! And, of course, I have to examine these newborn opportunities to raid my bank account just to make sure I haven’t missed some article of clothing or thing I can’t possibly live without for the survival of sanity and my eternal happiness. They are like new spring leaves!
spring sprouts in new leaves
boughs sport jackets of light green ~
chartreuse convention
A new arrival from a New England country store pictured a garden of stately purple iris that immediately grabbed my hand and took me on a ride back into my grandmother’s iris garden with delicate, yet eloquent, perfume wafting from silky petaled garden royalty.
Each page was an adventurous journey through my childhood reminiscing about miracle wrinkle erasing creams, magic bunion healers and kitchen gadgets long declared useless by technology. But, one page made me stop, drop and drool - perfumes. No nascent scents but old friends looking at me from glossy pages bringing to mind the women who gave my life definition – the Royal Secret of my grandmother; Bellodgia and Gardenia of my favorite aunts; Tigress of my tigress mother and Blue Grass, a Kentucky meadow perfume of my teens.
These remarkable women straddled fleeing decades, crushing depressions, cataclysmic world wars often suffering the unthinkable loss of infants, children, husbands, siblings and miscarriages. Yet, through their signature scents, they taught me about thanksgiving in tragedy, faith in grieving and the irrepressible iron will to live in the fragrance of grace.
harlequin bouquets
fragrance of flower’s essence ~
sunlight washed gardens
4-21-21
Contest: Moments of Reflections
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
The bayou sky flies a catfish moon over swamp gators
And cottonmouth vipers. Accordions, fiddles, and rub board vests
Make their ramble through the undergrowth hot on the trail
Of a sultry midsummer house party in Sweat Neck, Louisiana.
All the usual suspects are there. Sharkskin Slim doffs his topper
To Ruby and Rose - the Harlequin Twins. They curtsy in reply.
They came to town to show local folks how business gets done.
Fast Man is fresh from stabbing Satan in the back; same as before.
Snorkel-nose Nelson lays his blackjack on the table.
Pelican-neck LeBeau considers the odds and spits.
A honeysuckle breeze wafts across the terrace.
Eucalyptus, peppermint, and pine tar grace the veranda
Where Miss Bunny Bouche, in her famous lavender velour,
Garners attention from spy boys eying Cajun temptations
With considerably hardened intentions. Several teamsters
Just in from Shreveport dance lively while a claw hammer fiddler
Plays Tee Nah Nah. Essential words are suggested in the space
Between the jug and the mason jar. They speak of collard green
Creole rice served with crayfish in roux étouffée. The snap beans
Are sure enough salted. The shrimp gumbo is suitably spiced.
Sad Hannah sits off in the corner, her motives transparent
As parish politics. She’s been rumored to have dabbled
In arson crafts she’d learned at Magdalena’s Den of Sin,
But no one ever really pays her much mind.
She’s been deliberating the consequence of a life not lived,
And sees a glimmer of hope in the eye of a hurricane lamp.
Her chance of escaping obscurity erupts through the hall.
So now, it’s last call and damn it all, take a left at the crossroads,
And be sure to turn your mattress over when it’s time to climb downstairs.
And as for Hannah, sad Hannah, well, it’s either up Ladder Lane
Then down Hemp Alley, or else it’s just a lonely walk home.
Do it without trying
Begin by swinging from chandeliers when home
Wear matching multicolored harlequin costumes
Equip yourselves with harmonicas and bazookas
Keep lubricants and trampolines near by for safety
Practice lunar landings in your room
Resume your activities in the great outdoors
Do sex in a car when speeding
Bring a partner or spare tire if desired
Avoid police if so inclined
Drive eighty miles an hour at all times
Watch out for sharp curves if they object
Narrow mountain roads are watching
Keep one eye on the road while inserting
Headlights and moon glow set the mood
Never use puppets when in an auto
Open highways are open to suggestion
Mating should only occur in flight
Eat oysters raw when in the air
Climb to greater heights by sneezing
Use Airplanes for best results
Jump from wing to wing
Wear a parachute and a pirates patch
Use only one to avoid catastrophes
Take lessons from cartoons
To find out who you are
Leave farm animals and zoo creatures alone
Plants and vegetables are out of the equation
Milking a cow is taboo too… Don't do it!
Wear rubber gloves if you must
Position yourselves to be lazy
In opposite directions as instructed
Never have sex face to face
Back to back is better
Jump on the bed for comfort
Apparatuses are optional for you and amateurs
Avoid them at all cost
They cost too much
Watch out for babies! (They snore)
Never run them over of course
It's against the law
And down right crazy
Such activity could lead to divorce
Pregnancy can be fun
Instructions are on the dashboard
But first you must buy or rent a car
Before you floor it
-Final Notice-
(*Don't use balloons as prophylactics)
(Too many colors can cause distractions)
By the light of day,
Near the edge of night.
I heard whispered tales,
Of an ethereal sight.
With my muddled vision,
By now spirited head.
Bound for the graveyard,
To walk among the dead.
The air had been cooled,
By an early winter frost.
So I mustered my courage,
Then the threshold I crossed.
The silence was deafening,
As I trod between mounds.
Clouds of smoke neared,
That trembled the ground.
My heart began pounding,
At a steady rapid pace.
An icy blast of wind,
Had frozen my face.
My feet grew too heavy,
As the clock slowed down.
Then a woman appeared,
In a harlequin gown.
With dark sunken eyes,
Looking sad and gloomy.
Then reached for my hand,
Sending chills right through me.
She then cast a vision,
As I blankly stared.
Of her untimely death,
By the many who shared.
Was battered and beaten,
By the ravaging horde.
Her limbs were dismembered,
With sharp axe and sword.
Buried neath the ground,
In an unmarked grave.
With no chance to escape,
Just an eternal slave.
Now destined to walk,
This cold path alone.
With rustling of gown,
And crackling of bone.
Her whispers grew louder,
Which sobered my binge.
And asked for my help,
To plot her revenge.
Crippled by my fear,
Humbled by my shame,
I choked out a question;
And plead for her name.
Her face then softened,
And became quite clear.
This past maiden beauty,
Released a single tear.
She nodded her head,
Loudly crying...Mary Drew!
Then turned her back,
And away she flew.
By stating her name,
As she smiled at me.
Was no longer unknown,
Thus her spirit was free.
Now lost in the pitch,
I stumbled to my car.
Slammed it into gear,
And sped for the bar.
The tale of Mary Drew,
Still haunts my dreams.
Each time it recurs,
I'm awakened with screams.