Long Lengthen Poems
Long Lengthen Poems. Below are the most popular long Lengthen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lengthen poems by poem length and keyword.
The house stands silent in the deafening silence,
Where memories drift like a small crowd in the hall.
I sit with a photo, an original copy of a dream,
Watching the living dead shadows lengthen on the wall.
It feels like organized chaos, this heart of mine,
A bittersweet ache for a time that has fled.
I try to act naturally, to breathe through the hollow,
While the definite maybe of tomorrow stirs overhead.
Outside, the city is an open secret of motion,
Where strangers remain alone together in the rain.
It is an exact estimate of how much I can carry,
This friendly takeover of sorrow and mundane pain.
I am clearly confused by the way light catches dust,
A virtual reality born in a flickering way.
Is it an awfully good mask that I wear for the neighbors?
Or just the only choice that I have for the day?
The clock ticks on, a liquid gas in the rafters,
As I ponder the clearly misunderstood path of the soul.
I find myself drifting in a serious fun kind of madness,
Just trying to make these broken pieces feel whole.
Two worlds collide to show a twist of fate,
A logic gap that defies the heavy weight.
Opposing thoughts unite in artful play,
To capture truth in a strange and clever way.
The Night beguiles and bewitches me
as shadow deepen and lengthen
The moon shyly peeps out at me
then bursts out in splendid stateliness.
Now clouds drift across its beaming face
causing shadows to change their shape
I see first a unicorn dancing in the night
Followed by a trio of old haggard witches.
The night sure belong to unworldly things
goblins, elves, pixies hobnob in its darkness
and shadows leap and dance in moonlight
rays of gold, silver and blood deep reds.
Soon. too soon the night will give way
and all the secrets hidden by darkness
will slip away and leave me wondering
were they ever displayed in the darkness?
Another fine spring day gently dying,
Subtle variegated colors and
Tender vivid greens are dappled now
With golden flecks and dollops of buttery sunlight.
Shadows begin their mysterious, meticulous
March across flowers and shrubbery
As they lengthen and deepen closer to the ground.
Standing at my open study window,
I can feel the struggling, waning sun
Slanting softly across my face
As it caressingly bids me a reluctant au revoir.
A palpable silence descends and seems to reign for a moment.
The very air outside appears to shimmer, almost to vibrate,
As if alive with a joyful, youthful exuberance
Too frenetic to be contained.
Through the open casement a renegade breeze steals craftily in,
Brushes my cheeks with cool tantalizing fingers,
And brings with it the seductively heady perfume of a burgeoning earth.
My body strains to embrace
And merge with this welcome newness
As the random thought occurs to me that people are like the spring.
Both are from the past and live many lives,
But, unlike the past which is dead,
Something that is over and cannot return
Except in memory,
People, like the earth each spring,
Reawaken, reinvent themselves and move on.
I, too, feel alive, joyous, youthful and exuberant
As this notion, like the sheer curtains at my window,
Is caught by that cunning, inveigling breeze
And flutters out again like a capricious spirit escaping.
A simple physical breath recitation
For we cannot yet call it meditation
Gently inhaling we pause at the heart
Likewise pause at crown when breath departs
Breathing thus with pause of cessation
Thoughts may come & go as of ego suggestion
We gradually lengthen the practice duration
Flow of breath regardless of thought agitation
Simply positioning attention during the voids
Alternating at heart & crown therein buoyed
What happens thus is assigning priority
Getting to the divine in stuporous simplicity
By merely performing an exercise in lengthening time
Until the divine relents and we we hear the chime
Within
Footnote:
Such is the exposition
But there is no imposition
Possibly it may not resonate
Unless thought rested we meditate
We may then thus tweak what is written
Like a spirited horse not do as bidden
Adding to this doing our own colouration
Of love seeking love via breath meditation
Why not?
11-August-2020
I fear the hounds - ever they chase;
I must keep my pace or risk their overtake.
I fear the hounds, their hurtling pursuit;
I must watch my path to avoid rock and root.
I fear the hounds - ever they follow;
My feet must not fail me if I’m to make it to the morrow.
I hear the hounds, frantic as they bay,
My life the spoils they scrabble to claim.
I hear the hounds, and I wish to just rest;
I’m so weary of fleeing and giving my best.
I hear the hounds, and the temptation is great;
I slow my pace, and my end I embrace.
I see the hounds, and my blood runs cold;
They snarl with triumph and sprint to take hold.
I see the hounds - love of pride, love of me,
The easy path, wide and sloping in gentle degrees.
I see the hounds, and myself I revile:
Am I truly that tired, or just lacking the will for self-denial?
I flee the hounds; I lengthen my stride -
I’ll give them no easy victory tonight.
I flee the hounds - oh, they howl in rage;
They were just within reach of snaring their prey.
I flee the hounds through the brambles I run,
With faith that I’ll rest with the return of the Son.
Winter lashes out with awful fury knowing
the solstice means her time soon will end.
That tail between legs hangs as days lenghten
and land frozen and icy will begin to warm.
Winter's raging blizzards coat land white
with massive dirfts of snow that block
passage through the lanes and tracks.
Pristine glittering icicles adorn trees.
Lakes frozen solid, dimly glimpsed fish swim
beneath. While on banks shy snowdrops peek
and carefully open their petals one by one.
Yet still Winter tightens her grip stubbornly.
The days slowly lengthen and sun warms earth
only to be plunged back into an icy freeze.
For a while longer Winter rejoycing reigns
But Spring will soon relentlessly march in.
In a land beneath the sky that does not open with the daylight,
surrounded by the mountain peaks clutching the clouds of silence,
lies the hamlet of Barovia in mystique valley of perpetual twilight,
mantled at the vale’s edge by impenetrable wall of fog, the Mists.
The people live cautious lives in the shadow of monolithic misery
with faces bearing the expression of endurance shaped by suspicion.
They speak of bells that ring when no hand they see touch them,
in every conversation there’s the same unspoken topic, the castle.
Castle Ravenloft rises from its pillars of stone-like scars on the sky,
with the towers driven upward like charred ribs against the drifting fog.
Enclosed within its walls of malice the air is saturated with memories,
thoughts coil in corridors with footsteps echo even when no one walks.
Every stone of the castle is loyal to its master, Count Strahd von Zarovich,
who exists as a paradox, immortal yet decaying, powerful yet imprisoned,
moving through the castle like a steadfast notion that cannot be dismissed,
for shadows lengthen in his reverence, as if Ravenloft is his body, not home.
He is a polymath of cruelty, an epitome of endless pain that never wanes.
When he rides as the mist through the valley the Barovian hearts freeze,
and yet, he isn’t sustained by fear alone, at the core of his timeless longing
lies his love, Tatyana, who slipped through his fingers, to be a curse to the land.
Yet, Barovia endures the plight, as in secret moments fragile hope still flickers,
for the story remains unfinished, waiting at the edge of the day yet to dawn.
The tragedy of Barovia is in its replication, for every time a Tatyana is born,
a Strahd claims her, but the Mists take her away for the cycle to begin anew.
Spring always brings forth a smile
Just ask a butterfly
Summer lightens every heart
Just hear the skylarks cry
Autumn colours tint our view
As daylight waves goodbye
Winter ,sleeping,bides its time
When all nature seems to die.
FOUR SEASONS
Spring
ever
brings a smile-
summer lightens
long
Fall
tints red-
as sleeping
winter acts as
dead
Spring
watches
a flower-
August a moon-
as
Fall
dresses
scarlet red-
winter silent
calls
Note seen with Japanese haiku eyes
February awakens crocus&snowdrop
May aromas the hay-making crop
August in high summer glows
but November nights,decompose
Seasons greetings
The're out
the're out
Spring
announces with
a shout-
Yellow
yellow
everywhere
look
look
left or right
here,there
anywhere-
under trees
nodding
in the breeze
braving
March wind chill
narcissus
amaryllis
or
if you
will
daffodil
LAST HURRAH
I close my eyes,Summer’s
last harrah, sunshine upon
my face.Fall stands still and
hesitates.Temperatures fall
and daylight hours fly,at
my feet yellowed leaves;
shadows lengthen,evening
primrose perfumes
a memory of you.
DETRIUS
A tangle if Autumn
bonfired into smoke,
a blue plume curls from
the ashes.Yesterday’s
vision still haunts, now
lost in the riot of October
gone forever.Summer
fading in a melancholy fog.
Around the corner, days of
grey ,drab winter gloom
Tinged by cinnabar the spent sun sets
at the gray edge of the gloomy horizon.
As all the shadows of the extant lengthen,
the diffused light of the day they cannot sap.
Dusky dimness descends opaque and heavy,
floods the blurred spine of the pining plateau,
captures the lively tinge of the emerald trees,
until the shadows fade into obscure gloom.
Luminosity of the remnant reminiscence
glimmers in the deserted mental foyer.
Remnant rays of the drifting crescent moon,
illumine the obscure corridor of memory.
Clutching its silhouette the mystified life drifts
through the diffused array of the moonbeam,
knowing the stars shine bright in the dark sky,
the candles burn bright in the gloomy room.
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night,
you are in my arms at the end of day,
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.
We shall be together 'fore soft twilight
To you I run without pause or delay
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night.
Love in our souls as our minds take to flight,
lost in your eyes, love we'll never betray,
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.
With emotions soaring to such great height
I yearn to watch the sun's last drowning ray
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night
In the gloaming of our passion's delight,
from our love's blooming we never shall stray,
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.
Your romantic writings always ignite
this great love our hearts tenderly convey
The shadows lengthen as comes Celtic night
my eternal beauty, my guiding light.
Thank you for the invitation to continue our Celtic series, Mike. These two have a love that time and shadows can never conceal.