Long Incandescent Poems
Long Incandescent Poems. Below are the most popular long Incandescent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Incandescent poems by poem length and keyword.
noon’s furnace: asphalt shimmers; air—thick, slow—
cracks open. cicadas drill through stagnant gold.
a sprinkler’s hiccup-hiss: the pavement’s glow
un/curls in steam. the hydrant’s shout: uncontrolled.
children shriek!—a liquid burst of now,
popsicle rivers bleed; knuckles—sticky, green—
cling to handlebars. shadows stretch: thin, lean
across chain-link. each blade of grass—laid down—
bakes. but dusk? a match-strike: fireflies!—
the yard exhales jasmine; stars prick the bruised eaves—
porch swings gasp. the melted things—still writhing—
pool in gutters: chalk suns, lemon peels, dreams.
the silence hums. even time—soft, unspooled—
beads on your neck. and summer? stays. but cooled.
This gypsy soul is on the road
It leaves castles far behind
It abandons ghostly mist
which sabotages the caravan of life
It passes along the mountainside
by golden hay fields where daises bloom
by stream of waters which sweeps
a withered rose
towards the decayed lumber flume
This gypsy soul is on the road
from Edinburgh to Lochlomond
against high winds,against the rain
against aquatic monsters of pain
This gypsy soul is on the road
to the woodlands of your heart
where I would camp inside your tent
as our blissful thoughts impart
This gypsy soul within myself
and all the woman in me
would wantingly await your fingertips
to compose soft pastel fantasy
The smell of early coffee
then fills our empty cups
The song of the cicada
would echo in the shrubs
And as the chimney smoke
drift sideways in the breeze
as warm dappled light filters
through purple pansy leaves
The pressing of my lips
would leave their crimson mark
below your sun- kissed cheek
My arms would cling around
your once a muscular physique
We laze upon a hammock
strung between two old oak trees
I play on your guitar,my hundred melodies
As the incandescent half moon
rises above the dusky hue
and orange paper lanterns
float high in cobalt blue
We'd chase the opalescent glow
of a million firefly
You'd be able to touch me
before last embers die
This gypsy soul is on the road
in search to be set free
Across bridges,on a journey
your compass-my destiny.
Sweet Rose of Virtue
by William Dunbar [1460-1525]
translation by Michael R. Burch
Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness,
delightful lily of youthful wantonness,
richest in bounty and in beauty clear
and in every virtue that is held most dear,
except only that you are merciless.
Into your garden, today, I followed you;
there I saw flowers of freshest hue,
both white and red, delightful to see,
and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently,
yet everywhere, no odor but rue.
I fear that March with his last arctic blast
has slain my fair rose of pallid and gentle cast,
whose piteous death does my heart such pain
that, if I could, I would compose her roots again,
so comforting her bowering leaves have been.
Desdemona
by Michael R. Burch
Though you possessed the moon and stars,
you are bound to fate and wed to chance.
Your lips deny they crave a kiss;
your feet deny they ache to dance.
Your heart imagines wild romance.
Though you cupped fire in your hands
and molded incandescent forms,
you are barren now, and?spent of flame?
the ashes that remain are borne
toward the sun upon a storm.
You, who demanded more, have less,
your heart within its cells of sighs
held fast by chains of misery,
confined till death for peddling lies?
imprisonment your sense denies.
You, who collected hearts like leaves
and pressed each once within your book,
forgot. None?winsome, bright or rare?
not one was worth a second look.
My heart, as others, you forsook.
But I, though I loved you from afar
through silent dawns, and gathered rue
from gardens where your footsteps left
cold paths among the asters, knew?
each moonless night the nettles grew
and strangled hope, where love dies too.
Published by Penny Dreadful, Carnelian, Romantics Quarterly, Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Life & Times
Oh, angel, how you flutter 'bout my heart
The joy of love and living you impart
Your voice my soul does carry into flight
Illuminates with incandescent light
Your eyes are blind to wonders of this world
Yet, when you sing, its beauties are unfurled
I live a dream unmarred by pain and strife
Where passion, joy, and love are verdant, rife
You sing my heart into that special place
Where naught resides but beauty touched by grace
Angelic face when lit up by a smile
Invites my heart to dream a little while
Bocelli, angel sweet of paradise
In blinded eyes, the light of heaven lies
March 30, 2014
Artist Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
If time turns, will scars stain the sky?
I ask as I meander along the Boulevard of the Beloved,
where twilight drags its light along the stones
and the air carries a quiet that feels half-forgotten,
full of half-remembered vows.
Here, the horizon wears its wounds
like sapphire sutures,
stitched by trembling hands
of forgotten hours.
The night unfurls,
a serpentine scroll of silvered seconds~
and the heavens bruise
with topaz ache.
Old sorrows rise like astral serpents,
curling their incandescent bodies
around the moon’s pale throat,
whispering secrets
in venom-soft syllables.
I brush the dusk as it leans against me
and feel a tremor that remembers more than I do,
something raw as old breath caught in winter cloth.
The sky thins into a page worn soft at the edges,
carrying scraps of what we never said,
smudged like fingerprints on half-dried paint.
Your voice flickers in the green-gold way storms do
just before they break,
and your absence hangs there~
a color I can’t name.
A constellation tries to form but falters,
slipping between dusk and dawn
like a thought I almost remember.
If time turns,
will our scars flare into auroras
of remembrance?
Will they shimmer like molten runes
across the trembling horizon,
or fall as feathered embers
onto the boulevard
where our breath once braided
with the tides?
Beloved,
the cosmos answers in velvet stillness:
yes~
the sky keeps every wound.
It carries our ache
in opal-bright hollows,
our wonder in serpentine spirals,
our unfinished vows
in the shimmering script of starlight.
And when eternity exhales,
those scars ignite,
rising as luminous wounds
that guide the lost
back to the place
where love first learned
to burn.
You’ll hear it said,
“Our lives are but a—
Blink!
…Hardly
an instant-in-time
In an infinite/cosmic
timelinedesign…”
But see
That we are created each unique,
Like snowflakes
Swirling
with incandescent beauty
over lamplit streets…
Bearing divinely bequeathed
Patterns
of particular possibilities…
Our lives each shining to inspire,
Like winking stars
seen piercing
the dark
Like candles afire —
Bright flames to flicker
Hope
over the suffering life may bring…
~ Like the grasses and flowers everywhere
Purposed in the symphony of being
To
Grow
from dust on ‘til wilting’s return
to dust, all
meant metaphors for each of us…
For all those who experience one-sided emotional attachments. Instead of longing and heartache, let's either find someone suitable or seize the day and share our feelings.
Unrequited love
By Michelle Morris
01/12/2024
She sees him every day
The smiles they share are golden
But her feelings are deeper than friendship
There's unrequited love and hope
Sometimes she has these wonderings
If it's one-sided or returned
Should she find someone more suitable
Or allow this love to burn?
Brightly and deeply
Forever throughout Time
In a Universe ignited
Incandescent and sublime
Is it time to take a chance?
Is it time to tell him all?
The carpe diem courage
That makes us stand tall
To fly with Angel wings
To tango with the Gods
Unrequited love is lost
When we don't take a chance
© Michelle Morris, 2024
As I lay on mounds of a shoreline,
weightless in eyes' astounded spirit
blending with angels, dirt, and crosses;
my soul bears this emptiness
in writhing streams omnipresent for day
and twilight's heavy float-- hours change
beyond primitive instincts--a landscape
of bittersweet cycles appear, and below it,
the fluidity from incandescent waters lap
on mouths of frozen stars requesting patience.
Here am i sprouting below, above and under
their flesh; fulfilling my need for deliverance
out of some needled pinch :
awash by whimper of rain , all senses
moored and fashioned so lamely
on brittle soil of life unlived ,
seeking a depth of quiet within myself
time rippling upon this decayed shell undersea...
yet nothing came except a leaf falling.
_\/_
/\
O woebegone thoust nemesis dawning
that spelt obfuscates thy spilt gloam spawning
boast nefarious numinous wicked.
Clueless, raise glory divine dote wicket.
_\/_
/\
The universe resplendence of grandeur
the dominion dulcet befalling sheer
incandescent massiveness balters so
their beamish bodies tithers and hitherto.
_\/_
/\
Some huge and some not until one's closeup
It's all about size, bigger better--naught
This world or that world, it's the worlds themselves
Heavenly bodies, that dreams make tales
_\/_
/\
Universal, darker sides, lighter sides,
Stars; Solar, Terra, bump-in-the-night, size.
Rhythms and Rubble Contest 7-29-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One White Rose Reverie
I wander deep into argent airs,
Ascending anthems birthed in alabaster,
Into the incandescent magic
Of one white rose
Clothed in creamy flesh
Christened with dewdrops like moonstones
Swirling with ivory measures of bewitched fire.
Spellbound I sink bewitched
Into an ark of opalescent oratorios
Drawn into a pale chrysalis
Colored by the colors of first-born grace
In hues of stardust
And the litter of moonbeams
The cool touch of a snowy white kiss.
Ecstasy drips in reveries from ivory petals
Where I take my first breath
In the melodic meter
Of her delicate rhythms and rhythmic rhymes
Her perfume enchanting my crystal cradle
Rocking on webs woven
In lilting lyrics of luminescence.
I revel in the summer’s birthstone
That glows like moon drops
In her siren’s silver call to serenity’s stanzas
Sung in ephemeral moonlight,
Caught like a jeweled enigma,
The rose reflects light and shadows
In my summer’s sweetest slumbers.
Gathered into a bouquet of one
She wears a stainless face of grace,
And leaves a snow-white kiss
In my midnight rhapsodies and raptures
Melodic maiden sprinkles crystal rose dust
In concerts of preludes – prophecies waiting to bloom –
And her chaste carols sung upon her strong stem.