Long Islet Poems
Long Islet Poems. Below are the most popular long Islet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Islet poems by poem length and keyword.
This scribble has nothing to do with the famous song of Simon and Garfunkel. It's just a story I invented.
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I bought a cottage in the middle of nowhere,
Right at the edge of the countryside,
Any curious men rarely visited it,
So I stocked it well with food
And worked all alone on my laptop
Electric poles provided current.
So I could enjoy the peace
Within the sound of silence.
I had left the cities full of noise,
Only songbirds broke the silence of the site,
But that I could bear well enough.
Within the sound of silence.
Winter came and soon I was snowbound.
That’s when a knock sounded on my door.
Reluctantly I opened up my place.
There, on the threshold stood a woman
All drenched up and with flimsy clothes.
Her beauty stunned me. I let her in.
My car has stopped, she stammered.
So I sent her up to have a hot bath,
Gave her my dressing gown and invited her
To partake in a hot chicken broth
and some ill-prepared food.
And all this was done as I stood
Mute but mesmerised by her allure
For it was the time for silence.
Bad weather kept her imprisoned in my home,
Few words were exchanged
But she felt the power of silence.
A week later, the countryside was clear of snow.
She phoned a garage to pick up her car.
Then I decided to take her on the river,
How beautiful she looked in her proper clothes.
We got in a boat and paddled away to an islet.
We disembarked and partook of a picnic she had prepared
We spoke little but we came close.
She smiled and timidly I kissed her for the first time.
I felt my heart throbbing but all was quiet
Within the sound of silence.
We married a year later and eventually
The cottage was soon filled
With the crying of a newborn sound.
We were elated and made such a fuss.
Gone was the sound of silence.
To ride the sea is a pleasure and a curse
as huddle of gulls, starfish dart from nowhere
enchanting frolic on breakers, they traverse
into buoyant laps with crystal tides so rare.
My arms swivel a distance while I immerse
from deep lures of an islet, beyond compare;
yet once, twice... roughest torrents did choke my lungs
engulfed by coils of a dunk, into waves’ tongues.
I awake on swamps of moss , hurt like trapped cord
from a hillside , birds echo their fiercest drawl;
reviving my anxious glides with crests adored
for the terror -thrill of waters makes me stall.
As the bashing of rapids drills more pain on board
this dread, dread of drowning snuffs a night-breaths' pall...
though I cringe, hurt again from a sail, outright,
I’d rather face danger to unleash my fright.
If it hurts so bad, why do we do it?
Contest of Silent One
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[11 syl lines per requirement of the form;
10 syls likewise acceptable]
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6/19/2016
The azure ocean, home to the embedded enormous incomprehensible riches of mysteries and riddles,
More than the Mars, lies unfathomed, underneath the conundrum of oceanic colossal rhythms.
From the The Milky Sea Phenomenon, a sight captured as bioluminescence illusion,
The Purple Orb of the ocean floor of California and the Baltic Sea’s anomalous puzzles,
Like the alien spaceship put foot on the colossal quagmires of oceanic chasm!
When the underwater volcanoes erupt to perplex beyond imagination in huddle,
To probe and discern those gems of oyster shell’s luminous pearls dazzles,
Deep beneath sleeping peacefully in the ocean’s cradle!
The fatal enigma of the unplumbed immensely profound oceanic mysteries will never dwindle.
The more one plunges to pierce in deep muse its vastness engulfs to diddle!
The superficial waves in corrugation, are mere widening its hitherto horizontal hurdles.
The bizarre sounds emanating from beneath are like giant icebergs scraping the oceanic floor in madly rhythm!
The obscure oceanic realms, its myriads mystical appearances remains timeless, fancy of millions!
Eras and eras pass, the mythical mermaid’s riddle are yet to resolve,
As centuries pass, may replete with the witness of numerous human civilizations!
Like the Atlantis of Japan, from time immemorial, the oceans are abodes of colossal confusions.
The voyages disappear in the Mystic Triangle, who knows what lies beneath the mythical abstractions?
The twirling sounds of infinite ocean swirling in the sea shells are quite captivating, attract admirers attractions;
The archipelago one after the other vanished without the trace, as in Marina Trench’s aberrations;
As if the Phantom Islet of Bermeja, in its murky abyssal cradle’s magnetic composition.
The Crop Circles discovered beneath its bosom as if the signage of other world’s manifestations;
The oceanic phenomenon of green flashes meets the red tides, reveals your magnificent disposition.
Wants to plunge, swim like a mermaid in your mystical cerulean temporal lilting motion;
Oh, the oceanic conundrum more we try to fathom, the more we entangle in your cryptic chasm!
© Silpika Kalita
The vale of the rich
A strange place houses as big as castles tall forbidding walls
on top of broken glass in cement: gates that can withstand
armoured tanks.
Lush dale but no humming bees or bird song too much pesticide
for the sake of beauty, what’s left is graveyard peace.
I sat on my bike for an hour in the hope of seeing people, but no.
Each palace was like an islet cut off from the world outside,
here they need no one and no one needs them, splendid isolation
Like an asylum of the weary madness.
Just as I was to leave a hearse pulled up an iron gate, the gate
opened and let, well even rich people must die, prisoners of wealth.
I ought to take some of them outside, so they see a bit of real-life
before a hearse arrives.
Automobile industry
At the seaside, the water signaled many colors
pale sober gin, dark hue, then bottle green and pink like a nursery rhyme
no one took notice the sea was warning of a disaster.
It began in the late afternoon when the sun felt tired but hesitated to sink beyond the horizon
So much more to see, and the night lasted until six in the morning.
The cars by the seaside started all at once and
headed towards the bay and into the sea
the bottom of the bay was smooth, and many cars were able to drive far before they drowned, but the battery light lasted a long at night, the bay lit up like a gigantic stage for an opera
Shall we guess, Rusalka? An Italian opera
A water nymph in love with the human world and discovers her sexuality.
There was no way to stop this mass exodus
more and more cars flung themselves into the water in the bay; yes, even patrol cars revolted
and motorized transport came to a halt
when motorcars had gone, it was the motorbike's turn to headless drive into the sea
An island was born
when seabirds had fertilized the islet traffic
cones appeared together with of one way drive
no parking zones and zebra crossings
The world cried out for Elon Musk to come and sort out the problem
in the meantime, a donkey farm in the north of
Guarda, a hilltop town near the Spanish border, made a roaring business renting out their animals.
lush slopes mirrored
round an islet of pines. . .
verdant bounty
where clear water
reflects the mountains’ splendor. . .
a lovers’ château
at the ridge's feet. . .
sunshine in guise
of daffodils
pure water’s pool
where valleys converge with hills. . .
autumn in bloom
white magic. . .
evergreens sliding
down the mountainside
in ice blue water
the crystalline palisades. . .
our secret treasure
where amber-tinged clouds
embrace lofty white peaks. . .
a sacred cross
among wild flowers
water cascades from green cliffs. . .
an endless spring
Andrea Dietrich/ July 4, 2012
inspired by the pictures in PD's
Haiku mountain (week) Poetry Contest
For PD's: Enter the #1 poems only.... (entry must be from my past contest) please do not submit a #1 win if it's not from one of my past contest :-)Poetry Contest
On a lonely islet, on top of a precipitous cliff, in the farthest sea,
a bird built a nest and kept clinging onto her empty nest though
all birds were, feeding their chicks with abundant food from the sea
and rose to adolescence, left for a southern island for warmer climate.
As time elapsed the vexed bird sank exhausted under a fierce storm coming by the raging waters smashing the shore, picks a pebble,
and returns to her nest. She sits on the stone as if it is an egg
she was incapable of laying one, and transmits the warmth of life
that comes from her weakening heart.
Surroundings become darker as weather worsens, and in this darkness that no way to distinguish waters edge from skyline the rolls of thunder pierce the ears and a thunderbolt strikes the rock to smash it
in pieces.
Nonetheless, this pathetic mother bird sits still, rather, she pulls stone deeper into her bosom because her only desire was to transmit source of life to this lifeless stone.
After transmitting all her body temperature to this lifeless stone,
therefore, her strength gave out at last, this mother bird barely
rising her slender neck to look up at the sky to appeal her
cherishing desire, a thunderbolt strikes her back as thunder rolls,
a billow surges to swallow the isle.
At this tragic moment,
though mother bird perished, a beautiful chick with downs
brighter than dazzling sun hatched from this thought-lifeless stone.
The chick grows to puberty hearing the sound of surfs as a lullaby,
returning waves as rocking cradle, fed by passing clouds and drank
of fogs. He learned: how to fly friend with wind, flow of time following the sun and moon, and direction through stars of constellations. And about the time when flock of birds returns
to this isle after long absence from the isle to avoid harsh and cold winter, the bird, flapping his huge wings, soared higher and higher to the endless deep sky.
After such, time had passed and autumn, again, returns to this isle,
all birds abandon it and flies away as before. And when all the birds left, raging bellows, deep fogs, torrential rain, high wind, thunders and lightening punish this little isle once again, the gigantic bird flies over and lands on this top cliff, then, he sits on the nest where his mother’s burnt bones still remain. He cries sorrowfully vomiting blood, while gathering and holding mother’s remains in his wide breast.
During the circle of days and nights, when the bird sees rays come from peeking sun between crevices of thickened cloud, he soars high to reach the sun, pecks a piece and brings it back to the nest and
covers mother’s remains with it.
He repeats this act as long as the sun is in the sky. After so much folds of sun-ray, he goes back and forth restlessly watching radiance floating atop of pathetic mother. When the weather turns worse as before, the bird covers mother with his broad breast.
After so much of those stormy weathers and occasional sunshine
pile up, spring approaches to this isle, and when such time comes, waters return to tranquility that of calm of primitive day. And in this absolute stillness, moon rises to die everything from sky to sea, to the color of dark-blue. And in this dark-blue stillness, the son-bird carries mother bird, which is resurrected as dark shadow on his back and flies away to the moon, to the sky, to the farthest dark-blue sea.
After the son-bird has flown away carrying mother bird on his back, though heap of suns became highest mountain, heap of moons became deepest sea, it was so told, these birds having once flown away never return to this little islet.
Our digestive system is starting to hurt
We thoroughly deemed this void
As if we're crashing from a Pyramid in, revert
An urgent necessity that must be spoiled
The earth is shifting to sand in an islet desert
Land beheld through the lens of greed boiled.
Unless we dig ourselves out of dismal dirt
We are going to hurt the crashing avoid
Giving you a speck of buoyancy exerts
You should sow it since it's a seed poised
I request a grain and am granted a sight
I require a piece and am granted the right
When I ask for a roll, I get paper insight
When I seek exegesis, I am said of my gut delight
I will be attentive to the light
When I pray to the realm, the gates reveal the site.
Written: November 20, 2022
~Fragrance of clear mist swathes the bouncing air,
Dizzy where jasmines and blossoms unfurl
That serenity ripples everywhere,
And gulls hover above a wavelet's curl:
Through morning sail into pastoral bliss
Orchards flaunt their Riviera attire,
While an islet lies warm as sunset's kiss
Till birdsong drools in rhythm of a choir.
Glow of evening sparks its luminous eyes--
When bathing of pasture ends, to rest
Afloat my dream island how this breath sighs
For her verdant trees, her water dance fest.
Lovely isle beneath a tropical moon
Enticing my roam like a ballad’s tune ~
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3/14/2017 Where I Want To Go
Contest of Nicola Byrne
Rhymes checked at ryhmezone.com
Syllables verified at howmanysyllables.com