Long Latches Poems
Long Latches Poems. Below are the most popular long Latches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Latches poems by poem length and keyword.
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The stones were many,
though still he climbed,
dismantling the mortar crusted wall,
leaving rubble in his wake
as he made his way to the top
Breathless, this world beyond
the border clung to its silence,
imprisoned by apprehension tightly
binding a heart fearful of opening,
like a clay jar of secrets,
brittle but sealed tightly
in the deepest cavern
of temptation
locks fastened as he
descended the other side slowly
taking in his surroundings
In the distance he could hear
the defined thud of the bolt
sliding snuggly into its chamber,
the click of assorted latches
in brassplate and silver
midst echoed sighs contemplating
wished for moans
as delicate hands trembled
What would come of this stranger
peering, traversing the maze
sculpted of thorned hedges
and meandering lies heard
lingering of past encounters
Would he bare truth,
could he be the one
to break these chains of uncertainty,
rusted of worry
but loosened by desire
When there he stood
in the gateway, shrouded by iron bars
of ornate woven design
draped in a cloak of confidence,
defiant of fear, gallant in approach
Not bearing jewels nor golden trinkets,
but offering honesty,
words of love in truthful promises
lined with forevers
once unimaginable
and she wept
for the sun had risen,
an amorous glow of crimson
and amethyst blinding the sadness
on a once forgotten horizon,
proclaiming a new day…
and she could see it,
she could feel it
and as he took her hand
she knew as they
walked towards it...
she was free,
at last
Happy New Year everybody!
~
this heart kneads easily
molds to the touch of a lover
this heart needs easy
has a hard time with it's over
i have a heart that bleeds quietly
my heart has a hard time saying goodbye
cries its drops of blood internally
i know. i'm the one who wipes them dry
my heart sets time easily to another's
a heart too delicate for this world of hammers
it's a candy apple heart it cracks when dropped
my heart is warm and it's here for you to adopt
it latches on to the pain of loving hearts
the ones with complicated moving parts
you can know my heart through my eyes
you can also just touch it on my lips
hear it beating on your walk byes
you can see it when my flesh rips
i guess i should warn you
my heart is wanting too
to be honest it's lonely
so here let me hand you the key
Easy targets are those being trampled on rights wise
least we forget where the truth stands voicing an opinion
take the structure of your argument cursing and name calling
it embarrasses righteousness to even speak in defence
Now search your soul for a few minutes addressing subject matter
moral deformity within society has taken a dark shade
nothing is impossible for you to see when push comes to shove
If one looks the right way around with a balanced view
identifying grave error surrounding values
many in this world today are complete frauds
Justice no longer exists to protect the innocent
instead it latches onto the guilty parties side
Three times today one individual roared in such vulgar language passing back and forward
whilst we prayed adding this soul to the list for conversion of heart
sad to see some people totally possessed and so abusive
New city street
With the wink of an eye
and a shuffle of feet
We wandered about
down a new city street
Where vendors wore blue
with a tangerine sash
In hopes to look good
with no chance it would clash
Their carts were adorned
with ribbons and beads
And funny designs
made of cantaloupe seeds
They hollered and bellowed
and beckoned us near
And when we did stop,
they let out a loud cheer
They offered us products
like peanuts with cheese
And daffodil handkerchiefs
in case we sneeze
Belts made of feathers
with buckles in red
And weird little cones
you could wear on your head
We bid and we haggled
but always were nice
To get a good deal
and a much better price
The street lined with houses,
most two stories high
With windows like shamrocks
reflecting the sky
The balconies all featured
ribbons and bows
That hung from the railings
such colorful throws
Where women were calling
to neighbors across
For clothes pins and hampers
they hoped they would toss
They spoke in a language
so funny to hear
For what they were saying
was not always clear
The men were all mending
and tending the place
Their hats cockled sideways,
a grin on their face
The knees of their jeans
were all covered in patches
While they polished the brass
on the handles and latches
It seems they were singing
an old fashioned song
We tried to join in
as we walked right along
We laughed and we giggled
so much fun was had
But we had to leave
and that made us both sad
So we promised each other
that we both would meet
Again very soon
on this new city street
As the wind flagellates heavily,
I catch the scent of cigarette smoke,
a familiar plunge—
greased lightning before my nostrils,
whirling memories of laughter,
of twilight conversations,
in the heart of old Kazungula.
With a beer in hand,
the world softens,
a passive embrace
wrapped in the night’s gentle arms—
the aroma of hand-rolled cigarettes,
a neighborhood chorus,
whispers of stories,
smoke curling like dreams.
The sun softly petering out,
its golden fingers retreating,
the black sky latches on,
a cloak for the stars,
while I linger on the veranda,
fondling a bottle of antiquated Scottish wine—
complimentary, yes,
but aged like the tales it cradles.
You see, wine improves with age,
yet I find myself improving with each sip,
the world around me blurring,
softening the edges of reality.
And then, as if summoned,
the dewdrops fall,
a disbanded symphony,
hailing from the gods of this land,
I rush to the window,
open it wide,
and let my head spill out into the night.
Oh, it’s glorious!
This moment—
where the wind carries whispers,
the smoke swirls like memories,
and I am caught in the embrace
of a night that wraps around me,
every heartbeat a celebration
of existence,
of solitude shared
with the universe,
and the intoxicating sweetness of life.
Form:
An ordinary rectangular wooden mirrored lid, paint-chipped and worn,
sits in my bathroom, the mirrored part having gotten spotted over time.
I often hold it up in front of me, faced away from the bathroom mirror
to check my hair and clothing from behind.
Sometimes I take it in my gym bag to check myself after workouts.
Other times it has served as a receptacle for small items such as pins or pencils.
The remnants of two gold latches, flattened now and a bit rusty,
prove that this common lid was once attached to something else;
it was a lovely jewelry box, for which the mirror served a definite purpose.
When the box was open, the mirror, upright, reflected a tiny ballerina
dancing on a center platform to the tinkle of a pretty tune.
No one would guess the sweet scene this old mirror once reflected
nor the many childhood treasures its lid covered, so why do I still hang on to it?
However ordinary it is today, this mirror inside a bulky lid gives me some small comfort. . . .
If I try, I can almost recall the times I opened the precious box beneath it
to see a ballerina twirl, accompanied by that sweet music from my youth.
Doors with rusty latches and windowpane
Decaying house stands at corner of blind lane.
A lone old lady spends dull days in pain.
I’m a forgotten home to sigh in vain.
Old lady cleans pale torn carpet with much care
Visit of children -grandchildren is rare,
though once the house ran in gorgeous glare.
Her depression, loneliness, none to share.
Sixty years back she planted saplings at best
turning huge massive trees at front gate.
Strong gate now runs almost in broken state.
I’m a forgotten home just to lament.
For children-grandchildren, no use to wait !
Inevitable lone life to accept.
Despondency to drag days is her fate !
In forgotten home she can't welcome guest.
Metals at rest as tend to rust,
Love that latches on looks like lust,
As diamonds get made from grey dust,
Ye, Destiny, get deemed unjust.
Yet, whatso lies idle would rust,
Love lost of freedom looks like lust,
Not just diamonds, world’s made from dust,
We tend to forget fiery test!
It might seem so, where’s unjust fate?
Seeds sprout, aloud to say it all,
Man reaps no more than sweat may let,
Fruits, not before they ripen, fall.
He starved of will and manful means,
In grey envy tends to see greens.
_________________________________________
Sonnets | 04.02.2007, revised May 2023|
DECAYING HOUSE
Old lady living in old building.
Doors with rusty latches, windowpane
broken, cornice full of feral ferns.
Decaying house at corner of blind lane.
Showers percolate through porous porch.
Old lady watches in frolic fun.
She cleans pale torn carpet with much care.
Cats play on unpaved yard under Sun.
Sixty years back she planted sapling
turning huge massive tree at front gate
holds large boughs-branches- bunches of leaves.
now nests of termites in rotten state.
Old lady only waits for children,
grandchildren to visit someday.
She feels dynamism in each limb
with lively mind: No senile decay.
09/27/20
Second Place
'Writing Challenge- Decay' Contest by Constance La France
'Completely on your Choice (29) Contest by Brian Strand
The Dilettante Diaries: "The Bumble Bee Big Blue Sky Boston Two Step on Love Street"
She said, "Pffft Bumble Bees Rule,
No Bees, no World
Shy Little Hearts
Big power
freedom wings
realised
dreams into reality
unfurls
Who’s to write that story?
She’s just a girl
In a Boston Two Step World"
He said, "Stung, once bitten twice shy..."
She said, "The Devil’s in the Details -
the real deal is swallowing
“The Whole Beautiful”
Big Blue Sky
and opening mouths
tongues speak
transfer a lush kiss
shared wealth
Icarus flies out
Sun in his mouth -
It's a sinch..."
He said, "Lady Bird! Lady Bird!
Your House is on Fire!"
She said, "Long ago maybe,
the Empire now strong in unified minds
unfurls to The Town Crier
A new Kingdom
Love
Power
rising higher and higher
Ok tiger, maybe a spark now,
Not yet into bonfire"
For a Woman
that once was a
Butter would melt
in mouth Girl
dreaming unreachable
bigger blue skies
She irreverently
turns keys
in hearts
A Fire opens latches
Lacquered Chinese
puzzle boxed
pheromone trials
and strange
very odd matches
Carniolan whispers, “Bring it on”
She now smiles
and captures...
Judges 14 buzzzing bees 8
Air thick with flying honey
All Along the Watch Tower
She opens the Gate
Hendrix’s Bumble Bees speak,
in hushed reverent
unified tone,
"It’s never too late..."
(Lovejoy-Burton/September 2018)
1.
https://genius.com/The-jimi-hendrix-experience-all-along-the-watchtower-lyrics
2.
"If the doorbell rang in her apartment, she would say, 'What fresh hell can this be?' — and it wasn't funny; she meant it." You might as well live: the life and times of Dorothy Parker...
3.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icarus
4. hmmm, interesting, ah that Dark Bee...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carniolan_honey_bee
5.
Secret "Bee Spell", a riddle, inserted into this Chinese Puzzle Box. Much Love, LUX VITAE x
The Blue Stones/Be My Fire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znOA3xCtHfk