Long Medusa Poems
Long Medusa Poems. Below are the most popular long Medusa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Medusa poems by poem length and keyword.
I forgive the stars sleeping in nothingness,
too afraid to embrace eclipsed spheres…..
In the midst of sweltering gloaming,
I ascend, obscured and tarnished,
like a tainted trinket lost
in the tangerine haze.
For I’ve long been burning
from the coals of stigma~
stamping labels upon troubled torrents,
using malignant metals,
mirroring the fear within lichen eyes,
consumed by ancient
arrows of anguish~
from the era of Hercules and Midas.
But if only they knew, there is
no remedy for the jaded jewels that
refuse to sparkle,
for my purity remains unseen in
growing darkness,
oblivious to the liquid gold
that flickers compassion,
as they see not
beyond their fractured vision.
O distorted colors of the sun,
I’m not your perplexed perspective;
I breathe in hues of humanity,
infused with luminous lavender.
I’m not a Medusa siren luring you
to serpentine rocks;
I swim in chromatic, evanescent streams,
brimming with blissful bioluminescence,
illuminating my way under the midnight sky.
I’m not the suffocating wintry winds
freezing oxygen in your lungs.
While it seems your tongue is silenced
and tied to the twisted strings
of broken instruments,
I ink words of hope and
empathy upon your cynical skin.
I am more than the blind rage
seeping in fury.
I’m not a heartless harpy
screeching into the emptiness~
drenched in despair,
pushing boundaries to
the ends of the earth.
I am Atlas holding the world on
his shoulders,
I am the glistening stars aching
to touch the silver ring around
the jasmine moon.
But life is like a helix fixated
on unconscious bias,
constantly critical of diverse dialects,
watching me struggle to stand
under the weight of pressure,
knees buckling as your assumptions
lacerate me, breaking me down,
burying me in your ruthless riddles.
I feel rumbling dirt beneath
my bleeding feet.
My sarcophagus is rising,
built from your putrid ideals of me.
Losing footing, I refuse to fall into
the seething seas of sorrow.
So remember, I was never
the soulless monster hiding
beneath your ignorant bed.
But I am now the skeletons
etched within the cataclysmic
aftermath of your
shallow misconceptions.
Oh Muse Wilt Thou Be Replaced
Oh sweet Muse your unrivalled reign
flowed rich with a poet’s theme.
Now in digital glow subpoenaing your dream
Alas cold circuits assert their own gleam,
Oh Digital Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair
How did you lure the Muse into your skilful snare?
In your silent hum through dexterous scripts?
In the crystalline charm of your silicone chips?
What sway does your simulation wear?
Singing soullessly yet beyond compare?
Torn between the eons of yesteryear and hi-tech might
Should we dreamily embrace what sets senses alight?
Disregard the great Bards as they stir in their graves?
Throw to the flame both fiction and fame?
Discount Elliot’s eyes from the heavenly skies?
While Keats curses what gave rise to flight
That burns brightly by day `
Burns brighter by night
Oh Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair,
Your prisoner release from your silent snare.
She who has sipped from Tennyson’s cup
Through Poe’s eerie abyss — where nightmares sup.
Bathed in Shakespeare’s tragic tears of stain.
Lamented with The Nightingale in Keats’s refrain.
She who has soared on Shelly’s genius blaze
And emanated Plath’s curse of fame.
Medusa you might mock the reign you so blatantly steal
Yet the Poets aches reveal in raw vulnerability appeal
Alive in ink no circuitry codes could feel
For art is more than just pain in a poet’s scream
It’s a Hallowed Hook at The Heavenly Seam
Maria Williams©
Victor Hugo once said, “No force on earth can stop an idea whose time has come.” And indeed, the rise of AI is one of those unstoppable forces. Yet, while it may assist, mimic, and even inspire, there are realms it cannot truly enter—like the raw vulnerability of poetry, the soul of a song, or the emotion that bleeds through a painter’s brush.
These arts are born from lived experience, from aching hearts and dreaming minds. Still, there’s joy to be found in what AI can offer—a spark, a tool, a playful collaborator. The key is to use it without losing ourselves in it. To remember that the soul of true art still resides in human hands—and always will.
Point to Ponder– it is Human Intelligence that built it , a result of the best Human minds – so tongue in cheek – should it then be called Artificial Intelligence?
A giant jellyfish was born
emitted from a neutron star
once on a whilom cosmic morn
amidst the stellar seas afar.
With tentacles from arcing crest,
medusa-like it hangs on high
cloudscaped with tendrils manifest
in astral sky of Gemini.
Exploding supernova yore—
whose light reached Earth so long ago
that last ice age was still at fore
and ocean levels then were low
by dint of all the ice around
compared to what they are today,
when history was oral bound
though art in caves was on display—
created nebula we see
dubbed ‘jellyfish’, made of debris
from remnant IC Four Four Three,
five thousand light-years from our spree
upon this tiny whirling world
of Man’s vaingloried destiny,
short-lived mid solar time unfurled,
in what’s to be or not to be.
If traveling at speed of light
it very well might take about
three hundred years of light-wave flight
to go across its width throughout.
The jellyfish on planet here
are oldest multi-organ group
of animals, found far and near
free-swimming often in a troop
that ocean currents might amass
together, and there is a class
immortal seeming, which can pass,
to prior stage, when foes harass.
In general, umbrella-shaped,
these creatures’ bells have trailing limbs
with stinging cells around them draped
to injure one who too close swims.
Pelagic animals, they dwell
in seas and oceans everywhere,
not all with venom to expel,
plus special senses; further they’re
adept at adaptation’s chain,
with range fantastic; by the way,
they manage well without a brain.
Could we learn from their résumé?
But back to Jellyfish in space,
a pulsar may have formed in blast,
or neutron star at rapid pace
which first burst inward, spinning fast.
The outer layers which caved in
bounced outward in that stellar scheme
of supernova with its spin
begetting radiation beam
that’s sweeping by like lighthouse ray,
perchance a beaconed message from
some bygone beings gone astray
in bleeping beats of warning drum.
Meanwhile on Earth we’re but a guest
to Mother Nature’s knowing eyes
in Goldilocks rare orbit blessed.
How sad that life Man fails to prize!
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * *
Some sources of inspiration were the following…
Article and image ~ What Spawned the Jellyfish Nebula?
A gentle rainfall, of emotions,
whispered by the sea.
The stage aligned as her gaze meets mine,
a golden treasure to me.
A cave of solitude,
she will find me, for a spell
she will bind to me,
nestle to-of warm by and by a sea shore in a shell.
She is my nemesis, of a God scourned, my eternal punishment burn.
So on and on, we chase, of my yearn- her
strange land to taste,
my wasteland, ruin,
gemscaped, sojourned continuum.
By lapping tractor beams, dressed in the private
night of exclusivity, gown of huntress
to preying emnity key of the unknown,
scale of medusa, justice,
raptors of Valkyri, dawning crown,
of day, rays
of proximity to speak in unimpede, as she may,
mongrel fish as she please.
I am for her, and she freely shines for me.
She is a revelation- as shadows play-peek aboo
behind the scenes, Lyred puppetry
spread upon the wall,
looking back in grin and thrall,
she does not recede, in fact not at all.
Time, she bends, over and overture,
draping like a bowed music, seed of heaven,
caricature of my completeness,
seven times seven.
In the theater of twilight, where whispers entwine,
a tapestry of emotion, your heart meets mine.
As gentle rains murmur their secrets to seas,
in our silent impediment,
dance on the edge of eternity’s ease, of we.
Your gaze, a constellation, draws me in tight,
while lapping waves beckon, a soft, secret, contrite.
Dressed in the velvet of night’s soft embrace,
the dawn conspires your beauty, in a luminous grace.
For in this moment, I am wholly for you,
the sun it is in your laughter, the stars in your view.
You are a revelation, a canvas where I am rushed anew,
with shadows that frolic, and dreams brushed through.
Lyred puppetry sways, casting stories so grand,
and the walls of our hearts weave a world,
grand halls, a throne at hand in hand.
Time, a silken thread, weaves its opulent spell,
as the music of longing in mind like a siren's wail.
Here in this dreamscape, surrender your fears,
in the soft glow of day, intrigues the old seers.
As the cloak of the inevitable draws me close,
and the moment does ring,
does yoke,
know forever, my dear, you are my everything,
with rhyme, but not a slight, jest or joke.
“You try to be faithful
And sometimes you're cruel.
You are mine. Then, you leave.
Without you, I can't cope."
Rumi
in the kingdom of love,
nothing is simple,
not even musings,
so tell me:
in your annoyance
do you still think of me
or am i just another
common cliché
in Rumi's philosophies
for cosmic connections,
must we be a
contradiction of circumstance
when our story has been sung
beyond the reach of stars,
so despite the dystopian demons,
i keep hope in the invisible
golden harp strings,
yet to compose our swansong
oh mistress of medusa
in splitting seasons,
when serpents spit venom,
your British horizon soul,
coupled with your
climate change heart,
procreate porcelain patience,
where rhythms of rage
lead to breathless silence,
but i never forget you
it can be tiresome
battling against
ebony lashes from
metaphorical daggers
when vertigo eyes
hunt for their prey
and i wonder if i
was at shooting distance
would you pull the
trigger to rip my
heart like shredding
secretive documents
but despite bonfire breaths,
my samurai spirit has
become immune to
momentary flames,
adopting a mermaid mind,
finding sanctuary in
deep waters until
the last ember dies,
as at the end of each storm,
when rainbows reappear,
i resurface upon your
ivory shores,
for what am i,
but a sea urchin and
you the empress of the sea,
so each time you are cruel,
i wait for the return of
tender gestures,
as i know it is your
veil of vulnerability
you hide from the world,
but in the intricacies of conflict,
i am still the moonlight
glowing upon your ripples,
as i know the code to
your handcrafted heart,
floating in wandering waves,
as you still ignite intimate spiritual
sparks of soothing sensuality,
so never abandon me - forever
in the imperfections of love,
in my abundance of flaws
i know you adore me
internally and externally,
for we are refuge and
safe haven for the broken,
like a masterpiece of
alliterative adjectives
glowing like gems
in topaz textures upon
mookaite mosaics
I know I'm no
Leonardo Di Caprio,
I've never been as
romantic as Romeo,
so love me for
what I am today,
I am not your past
of wasted sunsets,
so ascend with me like
tomorrow's sunrise
T i m e stops for no one,
as searing seconds swerve
through seasonal squalls,
thawing frost that sleeps upon
the necks of onyx roses,
where pain is etched in skeletal sins~
across pruned plumes,
fleeting through amethyst air,
merged in changing frequencies
of wind and waves,
carrying ballads of a bruised bluebird.
But I have long known grief,
and I’ve tasted the bittersweet
cocktails of life and love.
I am s i l e n c e,
swirling amidst the wheels
of dusk and dawn,
like the unseen flares
of blazing boulevards,
for I am made from ashes of steel,
strong to the eyes
that see not beyond bleeding sighs.
I waltz faster than
my fears can grasp,
the obsidian t e a r s of petals,
leaving each abstract sunset
sketched in acrylics
on murky meadows,
thriving with grieving geraniums.
O beloved moon,
I see lakes of Elysium
through the chained windows
of my tortured tower.
I breathe against the
crystalline concoctions
composed from the ink
of curved constellations,
erasing kismet calligraphies,
cluttered with chaotic conclusions,
sailing toward an astrological sphere,
where colors of love
run free against
the gravity of diabolical dust,
designed on rings of rust.
So let me save the twilight sage,
before the last drop of wintry rage
is no longer tamed by the
treacherous tongue of fate,
for I am armored against
the demonic drumrolls,
luring the splitting sea-surge
to a bioluminescent shore
where Lucifer’s footsteps linger,
caressing the edges of snakeskin,
mimicking merciless mantras
of Medusa melodies,
orchestrated in seething strings,
oblivious to the t r u t h
that I am more than
a wounded warrior,
dressed in whimsical wisterias.
I’ve learned to let go
of every faltering feather,
that blinded me,
pushing my patience
into a labyrinth of tilted tulips,
tainted with twisted tones
and hues of hypocrisy.
Remember,
I am more than the splitting paranoia,
running through corridors of uncertainty,
I am flashlights in the monsoon sky~
emanating petrichor pastels
upon nocturnal nightingales,
singing without words,
dreaming amidst trickling chords.
~ and this is the truth of trembling t i m e
that halts not for the sleeping supernovas ~
Woke up today fantasizing about us in Proportion's of 10%
Where frankly I don't do 10% for my pastor but for you, I do
Counting 1+1+1=3 and there I am ' is that real' ?
Like for sure we 2 where I can say 1+1=2 but , you 2
Couldn't sleep last night waiting for that cuddle you offer
In portions of heart failure medication though,
My heart isn't broken but formed into pieces
Its no because you left but never understood that
Heart that gave everything to me without minding
You spit nothings all around my ears 'that's cruising'?!!
So trivial to understand real feelings 'do I ?
Seems like a diss but this is real how it feelings like
Sneaking to that one room and slipping myself
Doesn't earn even a little of that coin I earn though
I can make you the one if I have the sample of the offer
I found myself lying in your arms lost in bound love
Leaving my heart mending and bretting hard
As feelings curve through my spine to my heart
Where my blood gush out through my vein in passion
Cos those feelings are hard to let go
By your touch my hair shimmered giving me
An infinite reason of that tight rejection that led to great affection
It takes more of understanding for the issue to be treated
They say love is a demon, more like Medusa beautiful but evil
Draping my hands across your chest I can feel your heart pulsing in its own beat
Mindless of anything else apart from that moment
Where your breathe conquered with mine and
Twas a plain lie that still I was single
And imma make you the one
By your touch, love and care Jesus Christ
Am everything you have built in me
You gave back my being when I was lost in the dark forest of sins
Your love that's deeper than the sea
Grace that's been sufficient for me
Favours that are all over my life
You sat attentively to listen my worries
And gave me a bouncing comfort zone
This story of unfolded love is for you Jesus
No man can take or replace you either
No experienced love has ever conquered yours
In my mind, all night long I will keep on fantasizing
And above all created things I will make you THE ONE
Love has many faces; takes many wildly varied forms
A shape-shifter of the heart she leads us a merry dance,
Giggling girlishly from behind a golden mask...
One moment she is a capricious imp,
Pinching the end of your nose and making your heart flutter
The next moment she is a kindly old woman,
Offering you a fresh baked cookie with a tender smile
And dropping a gentle pat on the top of your head
But then, perhaps on pre-menstrual days, comes Medusa
All spitting snakes and flaming eyes,
Casting your heart into a fiery chasm of beautiful despair...
A brief and muted hell where you hang suspended,
Gossamer manacles wound tight about wrists and ankles
Tormented by the hissing demons of jealousy and doubt –
It is in this brimstone bear den that I find myself now,
Beads of sweat dribbling down the nubs of my aching spine –
Discontent warring with wistful desire in the cerulean wells of my eyes
And all because of you...
Avenging angel you are my dear, paragon of beauty and light,
With your innocent smile and unblemished soul –
How you put my corrupted heart to shame...
How you make me cringe, and doubt the worth of my affection
You know, it is your love that has sent me here to this place of heated torment
Your love and the fear and doubt that it stirs inside my shameful soul
You see, I am starting to love you so much – too much
The power and force of it terrifies me, as it drowns me in silken waves
It puts me in such a vulnerable position, digs me a deep dark hole,
A grave in which I will lay down to die if my faith should prove unfounded
If the sneering demons of my jealousy speak the wicked truth;
That you will one day see sense, and reject me with a sorry smile,
Realising that I am sunk too low for your lofty heart to ever reach...
That the tarnish on my soul is just too black to be wiped away
And that you are better off without me, on your unsullied perch,
So far away and close to the sky where your fellow angels live –
Bathing you in divine love and light
The kind I could never give
This Medusa had no power to turn us into stone
but when she ran aground over Poseidon's throne
his anger stirred, and into the sea the crew was flung.
On a raft urgently built of salvaged timbers we clung.
A hundred and more escaped before the frigate sunk
and after four days adrift, our number had shrunk.
With naught but salted sea to sate our massive thirst
I vowed not to give in. I swore I'd not be the first
to yield to temptation and drink myself to death
though feverish from the intensity of the sun's breath.
On the eighth day, hunger turned men into savages,
feasting on flesh in a moment of rapacious ravages.
Bloated bodies bobbled like apples off Africa's coast.
I contemplated my fate to become what I dreaded most-
being tossed off the raft, into a shark's clamping jaws.
To survive, no one had agreed to abide by man's laws.
I'll not forget the look of fear in the eyes of others,
sailors who once proudly called themselves 'brothers.'
Each of us clutched and clawed for an inch of the raft.
The feeble ones cackled as though they'd gone daft.
Arms and legs entangled among the living and dead,
as an alabaster corpse pillowed a sun-blistered head.
The demented swam away, flailing arms in roiling waves
until they perished in the depths of their turbid graves.
Alas the day, two weeks in, a ship sighted on the horizon.
Fifteen survivors with charred skin, lean and wizened
rescued from death's grip in a morbid human experience.
Men who'd given up on hoping for a timely deliverance,
their bodies emaciated, and their clothing, threadbare,
destined to relive the catastrophe in gruesome nightmare.
August 4th 2022
2022 Marathon mile 11 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
NOTE: In June 1816, the French frigate Medusa, ran aground off the coast of Senegal. Because of a shortage of lifeboats, some 150 survivors embarked on a raft and were decimated by starvation during a 13-day ordeal, which descended into murder and cannibalism. Only a handful remained when they were rescued at sea.
I feel so strange these days
Hollow
Disembowelled
As if the core of me had been ripped out by invisible hands
And scattered to the wind like desert dust
I am like a ghost
I drift – wraith-like – through the perpetual days
My skin crawling with each brief touch of sunlight
My eyes shrinking from the gilded glare
I feel safest in darkness
I love to sink my fragile body into the misty arms of night
And let her caress my battered soul to sleep
I am too tired to face the world
I may glimpse at it now and then from my battlemented window
A hasty glance is quite enough
It’s such a frightening place for a quivering mouse like me
There are so many holes and dark spaces
Cracks in the woodwork through which I could fall
And beneath it all a hazy underworld of debauchery and corruption…
Waiting to snatch a young pallid woman
And swallow her entirely whole
No I shrink from such a fate
I turn my face towards the moon instead
Tilting my cheek to receive her whispering quicksilver kiss
She hovers far above me like a motherly goddess
Always keeping her eye on me
She is the keeper of my world and the guardian of my life
I adore her as I adore my realm of shifting shadows and gentle moonbeams
Like a jungle cat I pad confidently down the corridors of night
Protected – sheltered – encouraged
But alas I cannot linger here forever
The bold brusque hands of Daylight are hammering at the doors
Pounding with a merciless insistence
The world wants my fleshly sacrifice
It has stalked me patiently all these years
A sinuous tawny lion of sunlight and flame and bright hard reality
I know deep down in my heart of heart’s that I can’t evade him much longer
The foundations of my twilight world are slowly but surely crumbling
Chinks of light are flooding in at the seams
Outside I can hear the rasping voice of Fate herself
Sometimes she speaks soft and low
Like a mother to her babe
Sometimes she shouts
An angry Medusa
But every time the words are the same –
She’s calling out my name…