Long Meanderings Poems
Long Meanderings Poems. Below are the most popular long Meanderings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Meanderings poems by poem length and keyword.
Love is found when least expected. … by poet
Rudolph was strolling along a winding countryside lane,
humming a love tune. The clear sky shone bright, and merrily
bright birds were twittering as they flew from tree to tree,
whilst a brook was bubbling as it wended its way
to a river that flowed nearby. Still Rudolph was dejected.
Love, alas, had passed him by. Nature failed to attract him.
Despite his meanderings around the surrounding countryside,
he had not found his soul mate to make his life complete.
He was particular in his requirements, seeking perfection.
Suddenly, he took a different path towards the wide river.
There sitting under a willow tree, strumming a guitar
Rudolph saw the most beautiful woman of his life
Her eyes were closed, but Rudolph instinctively knew
they would be verdant like the grass she was squatting on.
Her golden tresses fell in gentle curls, her red lips inviting.
Could he have found his angel on earth?
Placed 1
Sucking away vitality destroying your soul;
His delusions and anger cannot hide what's inside;
Vehemence in the face of adversity his demeanor breeds fear
Apprehensive, what next? Violence erupts once again
Diabolical meanderings, picturing situations untrue;
Poisoning the atmosphere, with no thoughts visible to you
Twisting fact and fiction, in his mind, is it really true?
Jumping from conclusion to conclusion keeping his anger fueled
Is it guilt feeding his mind? His conscience troubling him?
Accusations stem from nothing! He really has no clue!
Shutting down emotionally turning numb thru and thru
He keeps the fire rolling, breeding contempt nothing new
Running from the fallacy, of what life really means for him;
Threats and ultimatums destructive to all on his whim;
Forces the confrontation another hell night to live thru
Stay awake, or hope and pray he falls asleep before you do?
Don't contemplate what harm sleeping may cause for you
Only retaliates is there nothing you can do?
Screaming although its late it's time to pay your dues
Demonstrates there is no debate, saying lies that are untrue;
Can anyone relate, to pain once it begins?
No way to escape fate, the broken record never ends;
Accept now what is, not longing for should have been(s),
what was, is not, what is, what a tragic end
There never was a what was, its an imagined should have been
Form:
*Look at the stars, look at how they
shine for you and everything you do ...
You're a jewel, bereft compare
Hewn of star stuff, rich and rare
Uniquely shaped to beautify
Adorning, bright, a yawning sky
Seeded concept - bosom's bloom
Sparked to essence in life's womb
Perfecting flaws as humans do
Yet no one else, the perfect You
So tremble not with mortal awe
If fed resplendent, virtue's maw
Meant to hasten priceless wings
Borne through time's meanderings
Yearn to pierce the great expanse
And twirl to dust, your final dance
That latent shore of Heaven's sand
This precious life is yours, in hand ...
This precious life ... is YOURS.
* From the song "Yellow" by Coldplay
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Famous Poetic Lines 3 - Love Songs" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
oh, You ...
you found me again
unveiled amid the bosom of my dreams -
my consciousness peeled back
and flayed
tabled in a twilight mist
for the memories of you to feast upon
drowning in the fathoms of your gaze
your scent ?
pouring its alert fascination
into my marrow
the tang of your pulpy tongue
the sweet confection of your skin, resplendent
(and the warm, wild places beneath it) -
vessels and walls and fair, tepid flesh
your intent within it all -
to conduct me
while allowing me the sway?
to exploit my exploitation of the moments -
letting me control your control of me
coy, seductive smile on your face
perfecting your line and movements
as a ballerina should …
it is all still there
as if the years since were phantoms
gone with a breath of irresolute regret …
and you inhabit me now as then
as EVER
preying on my sleep-time meanderings
without mercy, without bridle?
without an ounce of benevolence or pity …
oh, You -
no other vexes me
so completely
so purely
no one pervades my
nettled dreams as you do
nor will anyone -
ever …
morning always comes too soon, blushing
and much, much too bright
for the love that we both swore eternity to -
that we knew with all conviction
to be as sure as starlight
as dire as death itself
and as deep as the sea of suns
is now nothing but a
damp blemish ...
on my pillow.
Midnight Appraisals
The overhead street lamp was our only illumination,
As night shielded our concealed touchings within the moment,
Yet we saw light in the eyes of the stars as they watched us,
Peering at lips pressing past eyelids in the shrouded darkness,
There was music inside the shadings, along with hot breathings,
Made for the late embracing hours of our youthful yearnings,
With astonished meanderings and midnight appraisals of young lickings,
We first saw the highlands of our explorations in the mindless kissings,
We first realized the apex of our desires in the brazen lovemakings,
With the closing of our minds and hearts, surrendering to the moment.
#S.ONG
A.ND
M.OTION
Sam Swam Swooshing and Pushing Further in the Swamp...
Is it Easier to Swim in a Muddled Puddle of Murky Meanderings; Submerged and Immersed in Mental Entangled Misunderstandings? Negative Thoughts eating away going CHOMP* CHOMP* CHOMP* in this Getaway GET-FAR-AWAY in the Dive of Doom, seeing no room for CLARITY yet...
"SAM THE MAN" had a Breakthrough, he faced his demons and Freed himself too...took Responsibility, New Found Humility and Began to Demonstrate a Warmer Civility and All Along He Had The Ability To Swim Where MOST have gone Before...He Sought and Fought FOR ONCE for SAM..."So A Man Thinketh So Is HE..."SAM...I AM" is UNCLOGGED Mentally...
SAM SOARS SPECTACULARLY AS A STRONGER BEING*
"SAM" SENDS HIS SENTIMENTS IN DEMONSTRATION AND MEANING*
©Renee Denise Gross 12/9/2017#
Fog is a folded shadow cast on a concrete wall
Dim lights fall to the dirty pavement drains
As rain sweeps up around the gutter rims
Along the open cracks a mist fills in
In currents rippled, diamond tumbled days
To the streets as steaming sheets of white
Streams gather into water falls they carry off
Thin channels form umbrella shadows black
Mimic life, silhouette solid images of passers-by
In puddles muddied at a time designated by the weather
Prevailing conditions as predicted become a ripple
A wrinkle as a shield deploys
Informed by such knowledge born before the storm
Precipitation bounces over plastic sheets of linen
Stretched to their limits, thoughts, images
Roll over a framework of skeletal remains
Metal on plastic for their protection
Dancing down about their feet are rubber boots
Fog creates a film, a mist, a cloud on glass
A gestured finger, invisibly smooth to its touch
Rolls over wet forget-me-nots as surface tension
Prints a name remembered only by the window
Separates smoke from mirror
In a single stroke it disappears
Imagine that
Tributaries run randomly, continue to the river
Streams rush with white, clear as diamonds bright
The sun is blotted out by gray meanderings
Gathered false images shimmer in the mud
As they become the puddles
Rain separates, splits into currents
Channels water falls into the ocean
Cascading over umbrellas folded up
And over linen as is there luck
Streets receive so much information
Feet still get wet beneath umbrellas progress
Before the flood comes in to drown the innocent
actuality …
begins or ends ...
with moments of twilight
not in deference to the wax or wane of day
rather, states of being or contemplation
the gentle shores of regard
where features of the day are swept back
washed onto sands of prescience
mixed with the vagaries of coming dreams
a soft-swirling tide of cognizance and misty meanderings
that fanciful place on either side of slumber
he muse is most vulnerable then
defenses of sensibility and estimation, weakened
mindfulness and spirit, laid bare
that is, so often, the rich soil of the poetic being
where the seeds of creativity are sown
the divine hand of inspiration scattering the good grain
to find purchase, deep in the imagination
the warmth of wit and talent, bursting forth
budding to fragrant bloom
in the quiet corners ...
of the day.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Brian's Choice X, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Premiere Contest Number 175" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
you …
lay among the
sheets, as still as death itself
tho' your bosom rises-and-falls with
gentle breaths …
what do you dream, my darling?
oh surely of fancies that
shame this trembling night …
moonlight thru louvers paints you -
slices your form into porcelain
shards of luster …
I wonder, are the dark portions mine?
have you and your god avowed a
share to my madness?
or are they the stripes of your lord
given in redress to haunt me?
your eyelids quiver, dreams rolling
them forth-and-back -
please let those meanderings be of us,
when we were happy ...
do you remember?
oh, such love we shared those ages ago
far removed from the realities of
a full moon and the fiery curse that
sears my veins and marrow …
how I long to press my lips to your
eyes in waking, as then …
but that is too close - yes, far too close …
pray, what have I become, my love
that I long for blood over being?
if only you knew the monster, here -
the beast born of flesh
that considers you now in slumber -
tossing a mental coin for your love ...
or life …
please - please awaken now, my darling
drive a stake of passion through my aged heart -
hasten, lest the hungers take me over
and you perish for the sake of
this delirium ...
of the moon ...
and me.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 21 Poetry Contest
Mark Toney - Judge & Sponsor
October 9, 2025
let me be a wanderlust vixen in the vortex ~
a voltage liquified to the upbeat vibrato,
versing vehemently in venom-glazed grief,
and rehearsing your criminalism
like a serial liar ~
because I am too voiceless
to command the Monarch of mercury
to vindict the sojourners
that lure me to their blind holes,
and vandalise the chromatic criticisms
that clench me in their cyanide claws,
through the cracks
branching in the demonised billboard …
Oh scorching serpent,
slithering with velvet-tongued torment,
never leave me tethered
between the lips of loneliness ~
like a leaflet tucked on
the seaglass screen,
screaming for those stygian seashells
to lock my secrets behind
the bars of misplaced passwords,
because, this pulse of paranoia
is too pure to palpitate
in the pixels of poisoned prayers ~
and there is no anecdote
that annihilates the anxious
acronyms of abandonment,
streaming through the realms
of disposed dimensions.
There are no strings attached
that hum in hexed hoaxes
through the violin vendetta
strumming an acapella ~
through the lusty noise
of monsters longing for
the loss of my sacred insanity …
perhaps, the voice in my head
is an ode to the orchestrating shadows,
too mindless to manipulate ~
scripted in secluse
replaying the ruins,
paused in the prison
a sketch of sleep in splitting senses …
as bipolar ballads
tame their schizophrenic strokes ~
when the Maestro of moon
mediates a megalomaniac
sonnet of venting slaves,
in the muted matriarchy of mantras
that keep repenting rage,
in the impulsive incandescence
of my icy azure ink ~
refusing the warmth
of vulnerable sagas
that ache to heal me
and release the
insomniac coldness ~
blanketed with the sparks
of murky mermaid stars …
I own this label ~
the name of a lunar lunatic,
and this is a war,
between the sphinx of sabotage
and the never-ending nocturns ,
as, I remain weapon-less
like a cardinal iris,
rewriting the rules
of unshakable madness
in your maniac meanderings,
ineffable ~ invisible ~ incurable
an impostrous
i n v a d e r …