Long Homed Poems
Long Homed Poems. Below are the most popular long Homed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Homed poems by poem length and keyword.
I divorced the cirrus heat
that once laced the sky with fire,
carrying searing sins of
the scorching sun ~
burning the soft bronze of my melanin;
an unabated rage,
a labyrinth of blooming lilac,
an assortment of angst,
a library of healing lullabies
homed beneath the glass-skin silence
of my quivering chest~
like wind through cathedral clusters,
a poison to my psyche,
too bright for the darkness that dwells.
But perhaps it is in eclipsed spheres
I thrive in comfort~
attain nirvana
through sketched peace lilies
drawn in stillness.
Now I’ve found inner
nectarine ingredients~
a recipe for resilience
to pollinate my passion,
to compose myself,
to uncloud storms
by marrying the
moon in my conscience~
painting citrine and topaz
on the pillows where I weep,
in seclusion and solitude.
Here, stars of solace ~ I do breathe~
a self-consolation that needs
no granular words scratching
the inner walls of the throat chakra.
O beloved, forgive my need
to see through the haze
that has been fogging
the fluorescence of your aurora horizon.
My woe ~ a broken vow,
my ache ~ a bleeding wound,
my grief ~ your scar~
a suffocating scarf,
a burden I relieve you of with severed ties,
letting go amidst the love
that still flutters in Luna sparkles…
You were a hallucinatory
hymn of dawn ~ beautiful, yet bruised,
and I am silver thread
tied to the oblivion of diamond dusk,
basking in the raining remedies,
seeking floriated meadows,
lost in the breeze of
sea-kissed azure~
an awakening: to trade venom for vigor,
like the unfurling of sakura
in the warmth of spring’s splendor,
brushing away crystals
of mulberry-black ice
when cold are the conversations
left unread and dried
between misinterpreted metaphors...
Sometimes, farewells are healing,
moving on ~ a contemplative prayer,
the spiritual pilgrimage
toward embracing clarity and zen.
For there, in the vintage
forest of forsaken violets,
wilted petals are watered
with tears and roseate radiance,
and, in the ruins of
pixelated promises,
we will learn to linger in
the luminous reveries of love ~ evermore...
Hannah Crockroft has cerebral palsy from her birth,
And having CP myself, she’s kind of special to me,
Because CP is not derided anymore, much, as alien,
But is called brain damage, not your own currency.
She was born on the 30th July 1992, West Yorkshire,
In Halifax, and fought two cardiac arrests after birth,
The doctors said she’d never walk, talk, and function,
Or outlive her teens: but you just determine yourself.
She did lots of school sports and made the talent day,
By the BPA at that good old sports and tech university,
Loughborough, where she met Tanni Grey’s husband,
Dr Ian Thomson, who made her into racing authority.
She’s a wheelchair racer in the T34 class of sprints.
Her father, who she’s very close to and is a welder,
Built her first racing chair which was fast and neat:
He takes her out every morn on the Yorkshire felder.
At the Worlds 2011, in Christchurch in New Zealand,
Hannah won gold in both the 100 and the 200 metres,
And then, the Hurricane spry in 2012 London scored,
When she took gold in these two events again - litres!
She took gold at Lyon at the IPC Worlds, two, 2013,
Then in Swansea at the Euros she again took two,
And then 2015 at the Worlds in Doha she won three,
And now at Rio in the Paras she’s homed three due.
She breaks all the records with WRs, ERs and PRs,
Demolishing her personal best most times to achieve,
Ahead by 10 metres, 6, or even 4, she’s my stat hero,
And studies sports and media at university, to sleeve.
Rhoda Monihan
_________
I am extremely sad about the tragic accident which happened today in the cycling road race at Rio on a downhill stretch of the course. Iranian cyclist Bahman Golbarnezhad, aged 48, died of a cardiac arrest which he suffered in the ambulance after sustaining a brain injury when he crashed. My thoughts and love are with his family and friends. He leaves behind a wife and a son.
Let me be the first
to have the audacity to translate,
This piece of mystery molded
in a magical meadow of mistakes,
The reckless subject, there,
just standing still like a landscape of order,
Disfiguring a flow of ridged ribbons
in shapes of unheard names,
Carelessly manipulating my optical
constructors to articulate promises
from paper wings,
Bewitched by the light warm
slash of sun laid upon the raging tides
within trembling silence,
How far charms can go to seduce their
way into a destructive satisfaction,
Might it'd been too kind to dry brush
around the edges of your shadows,
When the basement of your
intentions homed disturbing dreams,
Hunting for the tremors from
freezing nightmares that pray to
bury my ocean and all it's devotion,
Where do the ones who
seek the sins of lost words hide?
While half of the living cling
onto the drifting light,
This shrewd figure that clasps on
the thousand synonyms of shallow tears,
Whisking a bath of blades for
my pane of glass that hold scads of scars,
The pace of time, travels differently
when I try to captivate you through my sketches,
I am told by the tones of my pencil,
that your armor shields a menacing maniac,
Too cowardly to battle for your own persistence,
So hold on to what's left of your timid thoughts,
Sadly strength has long evaded you.
we drink ambrosia from goblets within our Hearts
browline meets browline you drink your own
which dripped into mine hush hush the surfer
and soldier homed, drinking ambrosia honed
yin-yang becomes yang-yin as frequencies ripple
from nerves slashing nerves when point pulse
point, nails dig nails, light entering wet wounds knuckles balloon, merged muscles sting sing,
bring strands blowing in west wind, leap peep
so deep to sleep, we drink ambrosia link link
cells bell into sounds spear sharp piercing thorn
horn, blood dripping under eyelids hot spot dawn
wolves howling across white space owl hooting
race, we drink ambrosia, drink as know bow
fades into breath within breath, nothing’s a mess let’s confess, house frames go up no shame ~
vertebrae calculating fame, down twig huts jut
rutting fall, drink ambrosia drink ~ magician
holds pentacle, cup, sword and wand, veined
eyeballs sprawl haul, drink ambrosia on brink
exchanging sonnets her mind mine, yours
divine, red butterfly sings on Mozart’s wings
we drink ambrosia as moths gain eyes to see
sight a blight bright seeking missing light
obscured to find from behind hills for the mill drinking ambrosia… lamb bleats at soul feats heralding unions near, silent lips turn dear
irises glance ears to hear tongue tasting
tongue, skin rum in sum hum ~ love tangles
a tango feeding volcano hot smear, rock
point brings pain rain, we drink ambrosia kink
surrender rains ambrosia, drink surrender
between toes in rows piano keys jump a
rump oh ! how blessed not to respond with
frightening haste the race and miles exposed
like star splinter acid into skin, no more lies no
more mask no more escape or rules crossing T’s
as I see your freedom futile fake on faded pleas
rake forsake, we drink ambrosia drink, then blink
do not ask it is His to give as He pleases, we
drink ambrosia, ample ramble drink the record
from loftier heights, drink ambrosia or S I N K
In the abyss of a heavy silence, I feel like an anchor weighing down dreams,
And the world seems an atlas that no longer knows how to bend me towards heights.
I call tenderly for shadows that can permeate me, a sublime rebirth,
To pour into me a new life, transfigured, with meanings finely woven in time's girth.
I create connections, carving in dawn and twilight, gems of colored light,
A string of pearls gracefully fallen from the necklace of eternity;
My words are archipelagos isolating the heart, without shackling it tight,
And it's a love that deeply refuses any dusk, calling for endless unity.
That smile stretching arches of stars across my darkened night,
Every unseen promise that soaks my desire to drink from the day's blue might.
A murmur, a chant, a hush of an echo to revitalize me
When the world crumbles, and my smile is lonesome, a shield for tranquility.
Her laughter, a choir of light flickering in the night of my troubled soul,
A gentle caress I encounter unbeknownst, a blessing in disguise, whole.
That voice, a balm emanating from the core of silence, the breeze that softly strokes,
In this somber setting that surrounds me, as the world distills its venomous pokes.
Seeking that embrace, an inner sun that never sets,
Even when it's absent from my outstretched palm, scorching my retinas.
A whisper rearranging the pieces of my inner universe,
A peace rediscovered, a hesitant step on the path to a potential Eden diverse.
And still I run, choosing to flee from the peace after which my soul roamed,
Refusing the smooth bed where angels lay me down, but my blood is not homed.
When love is welfare and illusion, it’s not left for fate to disperse,
And what is true doesn't subtract from my essence, if it’s destined to immerse.
A sign, a line on palms, or an accidental fate betwixt unanswered queries?
How can a fragment of the unknown become the center of existence in a world of flurries?
I hope only it does not fade, does not become a phantom whisked by the evening breeze stealth,
Sometimes it's a grace to know, other times, the cosmos decides to slide into the heart of loss's wealth.
The clinical sentence was pronounced,
perfumed with the devil’s royal scent ~
a relapse that smells
like an ethereal remedy
as every restless leaf abandons
its luscious green to the grave,
where her heartbeat
still sighs amidst the sleepless sunrise
beneath the loam,
where gloaming once, upon a blood moon,
homed the valiant vibratos
of her laughter,
yet if the only way to remember
is to remain unhealed,
as russet strings
of a violin ring through,
carrying sweet nightmares ~
held within the dusk
like beloved nightingales,
letting my inner calendar
return to circling the date
when she last breathed my name ~
O divine darkness,
let me fade until the face
of September’s stars wane
and phase the sorrow
into soundless torrents of
rehearsed requiems
until hurt sounds like a hypnotic hymn.
I swallowed, O Griefversary,
my penance through turning time,
the italicised letters
chronicling the chronic memoirs
while the tongue of trauma
prescribes crippling anxiety
into my thoughts,
I have long bottled
blurred hope
and summer sonatas,
with every memory crushed
like an autopsy listed as an accessory,
weaving words
borrowed from archived affections
as I leave line after line,
no longer aching
for the dark to understand that
my faith developed a stutter,
my pulse filed pleas for Prozac,
my ink confessed unseen panic,
my skin carried fingerprints
of midnight fears ~
and I still walk through
the black rose maze of memories,
around the season of
her irrevocable demise ~
September, the soulful wraith
of ghosts I love beyond death…
After ~ The Straight And Narrow ~ Lies The Truth
A ~ cross the Universe an alphabet of disambiguation homed in blue and black chatea~ U
C~aressing symbols letter signs and meaning pretends categories ordered logic reason~N
R~espite from uncertainty constricting reducing pressure measured flowing as a ventur~I
O~n the road from comprehension a channelled funnel oscillating Zeitgeist’s leitmoti~V
S~uggests that everyone and everything can be charted defined with logic’s abducte~E
T~he fact and matter of the Universe however yields understanding from us the arbite~R
I~n open quest of search beyond the prisons chaining beauty towards more pastel blis~S
C~ome therefore and find soft shadows pink and purple and live emotion emigrat~E
05th November 2016
In the blink of an eye the earth reversed
the sun rising in the west setting in the east
gravity's pull suddenly lessened it's hold
heavy things grow much lighter and floated
Look up to the sky and see what I mean
houses, cars animals and people flying
water running uphill instead of down
mighty oceans now the sky adorn
All still just kept within earth's strati-fear
beneath shines a land so strange
empty lakes and ponds now up in the sky
bewildered animals flying by, oh so high
As the day grew slowly to its close
gravity started to righten herself
and things began to resettle themselves
yet landing in totally different places
The poles became hot lands of sunshine
while the tropics were buried deep in snow
oh what a pickle it all was the army striving
to return things to normal but all in vain
Mammoth rescues of creatures to their normal climes
speed was all important before they perished
to our credit most were rescued and re-homed
our earth always mysterious is now reversed
How will we cope in this new places
well come back in a thousand years
I suspect human nature will be unchanged
still the same old BS run by the same morons
What happens to this poetry embroidered within the walls of my heart,
When the joy of my words are shattered underneath your feet,
Can the torture of your empty moon paint a slithering promise,
Far across into my deep colorless dreamscape of dahlias,
Your dry eyed apologies took me to a mortal with no reflection,
As you hide behind your short lived excuses and homed cruel intentions,
Like a fool I was to believe that a rose could bloom in the peeks of winter,
While broken instruments illustrated a weak illusion,
Shame, These knees you held with such tender affection,
Poured our tales into my abstract dreams,
How you wandered into my eyes casting a waning crescent,
Hoping the fragrant of a swine won’t clear my sight,
I’ve stood by the hills, where it steeps down your hell,
Perhaps the burdens you trust and love are the saint in your spells,
Claiming clarity for a chaos that have you deeply compelled.
Introduction.. An excerpt from a speech by Mr Keith Campbell 1969, On the need of a referendum on joining the 'common market' the people are discussing it up and down
the land every day, they want the opportunity to express their views. If they are deprived of that opportunity they will resent the fact. For Parliament to tell those people that while they may have their views, they will not have any chance of expressing them and that this momentous decision will be taken by members of Parliament alone, regardless of the opinions of the people, would be a piece of unforgivable arrogance.
Britain 1965, Leyland's factory doing fine,
40 percent of cars, go onto U K road
Bought from British steel, goods in trains of loads
Defunct in 1985, a proof of industrial decline?
Once upon a time the Rolls Royce brand
Was made and homed within, Brit-ain..
Now owned, and sold by another land
Here is well shown again, the markets gain.'
Swan Hunter that towered the mighty Tyne
Gave work to generations, of thousands ten
The pound was 'pegged' interest rates to climb
Bank of England was to be broken then.'
Of course this all could be dis-truths
A load of baloney, where is the proof?
That's what others no doubt will bray
Statistics.. Statistics, but come the day..'
Founded 1967