Long Keeper Poems
Long Keeper Poems. Below are the most popular long Keeper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Keeper poems by poem length and keyword.
I am the sorcerer of nothing
The master of no one
The author of an imaginary missive still in the bowels of non-existence
I am the queen of thought processes
Flirting and flitting in another dimension
Nowhere near my dendrite field, ignoring me completely
I am dallying and dallying this week.
I am frivolously playing.
I am living my truth, unconcerned at the lack of wisdom or thought.
I am lying in the sun in a lawn chair
With a happy dog at my feet
We are practically napping.
Bunnies are hopping around, fearing neither of us
Cardinals are flipping us the bird
No small feat but delightful
It is summer and I am the mistress of the meadow
I am the goddess of clover
I am the keeper of the lull - life is good.
Letters from Thrídrangar Lighthouse
I stand on top and wave to you across the sea,
From the loneliest house the world has ever known.
Like a lost star hung over the cold north.
Silence breaks when storms hit the stone walls,
Moon sends his light and calls my name for sure.
The air is freezing on the roof, I feel like a sinking boat.
I am the keeper here, in this white-walled place,
Writing you letters, my beloved, in short.
One day you will read them and send flowers back.
Sometimes I seal my words inside a bottle,
Throw it from the tower where the ships go past,
Hoping the tide will carry it to you.
This light shows ships the way through the vast sea,
So they will not be lost when the night grows black.
But my letters are lost in the weight of the sea.
A lighthouse is the last hope for those without direction,
The one thing that calls them home again.
I keep the light. I keep waiting.
In the garden where time softly treads,
And where vibrant petals gently spread,
There lies a sanctuary, calm and divine,
A haven where sun and shade entwine.
The butterfly, a flitting, fleeting guest,
Kisses blooms, in a colorful zest.
Whispers of love, borne on the breeze,
Caress the leaves and sway the trees.
The rose, a symbol of elegiac love,
Whispers tales to the cooing dove.
Thorns and petals in a symbiotic blend,
Symbolizing love that knows no end.
Violets weave a carpet, a purple sea,
Where bees dance in a buzzing spree.
Each fluttering wing and gentle hum,
A melody of life’s vibrant strum.
The lily stands with an elegant grace,
Adorning the garden, a lovely face.
A reflection of purity, in still ponds seen,
An echo of what is, and what has been.
Walls adorned with ivy, crawling, and green,
Guarding the memories, in silent sheen.
A secret keeper of times long passed,
Where shadows of yesteryears are softly cast.
In the alcove, where the jasmine scents the air,
Lies a bench, where hearts secrets share.
Amidst the flora, with colors so rife,
Blooms a silent, serene, vibrant life.
May we stroll through this gentle domain,
Where peace and reflection quietly reign.
In every petal, scent, and hued line,
Discover a moment, eternally thine.
In the garden of gentle times and hues,
Let’s linger amidst the morning dews,
And weave our stories, both old and new,
In the tapestry, where love remains true.
My stuff is packed
I’m off to my home
Home-a place I’ve never known
I’m an aimless wanderer
Headed no place in particular
For no place bears my name
I’m a late night creeper
Constellation keeper
The world is my playground
My imagination is my motivation
The stars are my inspiration
I have nowhere to go
Yet I feel not alone
No need to run or hide
From feelings I’ve pushed aside
I am but a tireless walker
Off to see the wonders of nature
And what the world has to offer
Cares-not in my possession
Fears aren’t there either
The faces I meet have no names
I only pass in conversation
I have only one destination
Yet it remains mysterious
Hiding behind my emotionless masque
I seek for a place
Where I can hide
A place of my own
Somewhere to call home
Form:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She moves where stone breathes
and city mist exhales~
an ink-fingered girl,
hungry for edges.
Her notebook fills with the ribs of bridges,
the pulse of alleys that twist like cursive,
but one corner stays blank,
haunted by the scent of thyme and whispers.
The old woman’s stall is a lung~
violet smoke curling into a man
who is not a man,
but the wind wearing memory.
Aer, she names him,
though names are nets thrown at the sky.
His voice is the hush of poplars,
his touch—the press of a breeze
against her wrist.
Together, they chart what’s hidden:
fog hugging eaves,
lanterns turning dawn
into gold.
He teaches her to listen~
not with ears, but with the spaces
between her ribs.
A ravenous storm comes
gnawing at the city’s bones.
Aer stands between her and the hunger,
his body a dune eroding,
yet he smiles~
You are the keeper now,"
he says, giving her a peacock feather.
The feather feels weightless
in her hand, but the drawer
where she places it hums
with the city’s first storm.
She writes poems to the air,
to the hollow where his laugh once lived,
and the wind answers~
not in words, but in the turn
of a page,
the lift of her hair,
a path that unwinds
into the garden of nowhere.
At midnight, the blossoms open,
each petal a ledger of light.
She marks a line with no destination,
aware that maps are not just for places,
but also for the shape of absence.
Somewhere, the wind remembers.
Somewhere, it says her name
in the language of sails.
this poem was written as part of a science fiction poetry contest; it accompanies the story "The City of Aethra" which can be read at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/city_of_aethra_13649
Life lover
Death mugger
Hope giver
Low sugar
Water chugger
Love lugger
Tree hugger
Silly bugger
Fun frolicker
Food fantasiser
Friend finder
Hug holder
Soft shouldered
Money shrugger
Deep diver
Divine dealer
Rift healer
Hate hater
Kindness creator
Destiny developer
Imperfect Father figure
Occasional tent rigger
Peace pursuer
Joy juggler
Plate wobbler
Poetry writer
Destiny thriver
Earth empowerer
Environment ambassador
Eden encourager
Evil eradicator
Snake stamper
Veganish validator
Animal appreciator
Wonderful wisdom warrior
Future fantasiser
Present meditator
Past appreciator
Sporty spectator
Not so bad geezer
Summertime sneezer
Bespectacled bungler
Kitchen surface scrubberer
Sad movie blubberer
Healthcare handler
Magic marveller
Movie meddler
Piano plonker
Canine craver
Book reveller
River walker
Christ carrier
Church changer
Cross celebrator
Deafness dabbler
Community keeper
Poverty challenger
Happiness harbinger
Justice instigator
Prayer purveyor
Holiness hailer
Jehovah jotter
Jesus jostler
Bible basher
Beautiful
Believer.
~ How I Hate it That I Like You ~
O’ Facebook, keeper of the emoji
I tell the world that I’m better than you
I can’t waste my time on all your nonsense
I have more important things to pursue
But each morning I can be found searching
Going down the rabbit hole of news feeds
Looking for all of the latest gossip
To satisfy my secret wants and needs
I’m tired of all your negativity
I swore I was putting you to an end
I’d only use you to follow the kids
But now here I am clicking likes and sends
I wonder just who I’m trying to kid
When I tell the world how much I hate you
You and I both know without you my friend
I would never have anything to do
Mummy took us to the zoo
she hoped it wouldn’t bore us
In truth I think that mummy knew
we’d see a Brontosaurus
I stroked a small Triceratops
it had a tiny pink horn
I fed him all my chocolate drops
the keeper eyed me with scorn
I kissed a Tyrannosaurus Rex
When I climbed a big step ladder
Mom did all the safety checks
else the keeper would get madder
We were chased by a big Diplodocus
I could hear him snapping his jaws
Then he turned and he winked at us
and began to lick his huge paws
One dinosaur wore dark glasses
and tried so hard to ignore us
His breed no other surpasses
it’s a Doyouthinkhesawrus!
DINOSAUR(S) - FOR CHILDREN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
3/7/19
A childs laughter is a precious sound,
To watch them smile as they play around,
Filled with gleeful giggles that resound,
It will fill the blackest of hearts with joyful glee,
As they run in the wind hair wild completely carefree,
Not a single widowed worry whispering in there ear, No agenda no fear glowing with an innocent endear, There souls filled and glow with the purest of light, They truly are a precious delight to have in sight,
To cradle such beauty within ones arms,
Or encase there tiny hands in our giant palms,
It truly is a blessing to be hold, Or so I am told,
To have a child is a gift from himself up above, Created by the angles and sent down a beautiful dove,
A child teaches us compassion, patience, and love, The unconditional kind that you behoves,
There clever cheek filled with wit and humour,
As they grow from toddler up to junior,
With aspirations like being a zoo keeper in the future, Or maybe a dancer, doctor or police officer,
You pray its filled with happiness each and everyday, As yours have always been since there first birthday.
A WORLD OF IMAGINATION
Shell we reside in the world of perdition ?,
or will we know life ?, after death, through attrition.
Hell is not to be Dante’s, inferno ?,
the void ?, fires ?, the black hole we think we will go ?
Hell is the ever lasting pain we endure
as we walk alone, into the future.
Hades, created by man’s imagination.
From fear, it became his creation.
Hell is the pain - of our regret -,
caused to others, we will never forget.
Forgiveness of one’s self,
is the only way to put guilt upon a shelf,
live out one’s life, free
to walk this plane and be
as one with this universe.
As I come to the end of this verse,
we will never see beyond the veil,
for there is no one who may tell the tale
of what the future will hold,
no one who knows the tale to be told.
Time is the keeper, of all we have come to know.
Time is the transporter, taking us to where we will go.
What ever is to be our destination ?,
it has been of our own creation.
B. J. “ A” 2
May 26th 2012