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.
Laid out for surgery, a patient prude
Swaps self guided for guile - Medusa’s will
Noisy neurons mute, poor Nerida nude
Serpent puncture spreads in her, poison pill
Twirls twilight silent, sticky dark danger
Cotton candy cloud, clement synapses
Petrifying practitioner changed her
Nerida’s urge for control collapses
Fang flung, spiralled far from mediocre
Transfixed in toxin, menacing method
Venom swoll jugular veins squeeze choke her
Doctor’s dose meticulously measured
Tangled snake strands, table statue taboos
Dagger dipped in blood leaves only a bruise
Numbing Needle
Ninth of January
Sink your poisoned dragonfly wings in my chiffon atoms of smothered skin,
As I lay supine, along dusk's apathetic horizons, husky and hoaxed,
For, I'm a kin of blood-moon, gnawing at ivory moonstones and ocean's fins,
As a broken carmine harp, that blooms kohl-orchids from chartreuse stems, smoked,
If my fangs pierce through sun-sequined dawns, am I not grim reaper's broken ballerina?
As a wistful wildflower, I float in harbours of helium, weeping acidic dews,
Inhaling watercolor volcano's lifeless heartbeats, akin a frosted firebird,
Carving legends of medusa, on lilith's marble-canvas and mahogany adieus,
Rising as a seascape-myth on glossy shorelines, ebbing in onyx spirals, savoured,
If pine leaves strangle the trinkets of my throat, am I not a broken snowflake's last breath?
"I'm an orphan of poised Mars, swirling in solstitial meadows,
Of shipwrecked sonatas, saturating in igloo-hues of coiled shadows..."
I’m either really high up
Or really low down
Never just simply breathing
I’m either ecstatic
Or simply just tragic
Never quite really middling
It’s either blazing light
Or inky dark night
Never a morning or evening
I’m either fully alive
Or I’m living dead
Never just simply existing
I’ve a mountain top life
Or one mired in the trench
Never level ground trekking
Burning with passion
Or freezing in hurt
Never just lukewarm caring
I’m either in love
Or sizzling with hate
I’m never really just flirting
I’m Aphrodite one day
Then Medusa the next
Never just simply acting
You are either my friend
Or sworn enemy
Never just simply mingling
I’m either in heaven
Or tormented in hell
Never just purgatoring
I wish that my life
Were more even keeled
Cause this is just schizophrening
I’m either oddly insane
Or I’m sweetly inane
For a normal life I'm longing
The moment I entered the door
I could hear the old dragon roar
She was wearing her usual frown
Fiery flames were shooting around
She’d turn Medusa to stone with that stare
Just one glare and you'd better take care
I could picture the scene we would meet
as visiting her was no culinary treat
I’m not saying that she was a bad cook
When we visited you just took potluck
I’d have to pick like a bird at the food
It was vile but I didn’t want to be rude
My life is good … but it did have one flaw
This old dragon was … my mother in law!
10~20~15
Contest: Dragons
Sponsor: Silent One
i dove
to the depths
of her
ocean where
phosphorescent
fish have become
grotesque
there is no
sun in this
dark water
womb
giving
birth to
what on earth
there are two
two lip fish one
horizontal the
other vertical
this is
the worst
to come upon
its very
nature
is to
seduce
even
worse
then the
Medusa Jellyfish
as it opens its lips
with something
thumping dangling
from above worm
like and glowing
so that the unknowing
sees and wants to
taste pleasure but
never to receive for
the worm hardens
bringing you in not
noticing the plump
lips closing slowly
as if a
Venus
Flytrap
caught
in its
snatch
no time
to come
Form:
the s e a
remembers the taste
of cinnamon sunsets~
the essence of
emerald embers
and resonances of petrichor
when the tides tremble
in turquoise delight,
amidst the marine snakes
slithering through
oceanic echoes,
mirroring Medusa melodies
in envious tones.
and as the morning
stars nestle in the
wildflower warmth
of the honeyed sun,
wine-red ink
flows within midnight
vines in vain,
aching to be heard,
while the jealous jasmines
jinx the sanguine spirit
of January garnets
I wear in
grace and gratitude.
yet if my sky knows
not the colors of darkness,
would the moon still
be my poetic savior?
silently sewing sequins of solace
to the fabric of love,
floating like cosmic candles,
elegantly emanating
perfumed perseverance
for I am the silhouette
of the horizon
wrapped in a plethora of
p e a c e lilies,
sprouting in the
glistening garden
of gossamer verses,
finding roseate reasons to rhyme,
when eclipsed
is the luna-light
and monsoon monsters
are the cynical spectators,
knocking on my canvas
with needles and nails
sharpened with
paper-thin confetti
of resentful remorse.
but I ponder,
will the blind still feel
the storms I breathe
and the strength I wear
to waltz through wicked weeds,
eager to chain unspoken needs?
this is me running from the toxic rain,
pushing me back into
the twilight zone,
where I surf
through nothingness,
engrossed in timeless trust,
tied to written tranquility,
manifesting magnetic waves
of inner truce and magic
as the sea remembers
the serenade of serenity
and the sky knows
the metaphors to merge
winds of love and
waves of kindness.
SEEKING BLACK
A worn out time machine goes frightfully awry,
Instead of arriving in Victorian era, I land with a bump,
In a dark, deep, dingy, wet, smelly cave, tried to spy!
Recognized Greek mythology, Medusa be kind to me!
I hear screams, a shadow of head and snakes I see,
Think back, don’t’ look, you’ll turn to stone, a black lump!
Perseus my handsome Greek hero, where are you,
Come this way soon, if not, for me there will be sorrow.
She screams like a wild beast, will my fate be like the few?
Suddenly I see Perseus with a shield and a sword,
Shines his shield in Medusa’s face, hits the desired chord,
Chops head with bloody sword, machine and I will see morrow!
For Deep and Dark Poetry Contest (Lu Loo)
Floating
by Michael R. Burch
Memories flood the sand’s unfolding scroll;
they pour in with the long, cursive tides of night.
Memories of revenant blue eyes and wild lips
moist and frantic against my own.
Memories of ghostly white limbs …
of soft sighs
heard once again in the surf’s strangled moans.
We meet in the scarred, fissured caves of old dreams,
green waves of algae billowing about you,
becoming your hair.
Suspended there,
where pale sunset discolors the sea,
I see all that you are
and all that you have become to me.
Your love is a sea,
and I am its trawler;
harbored in dreams,
I ride out night’s storms.
Unanchored, I drift through the hours before morning,
dreaming the solace of your warm breasts,
pondering your riddles, savoring the feel
of the explosions of your hot, saline breath.
And I rise sometimes
from the tropical darkness
to gaze once again out over the sea ...
You watch in the moonlight
that brushes the water;
bright waves throw back your reflection at me.
This is a poem I wrote as a teenager. It has been published by Penny Dreadful, Romantics Quarterly, Boston Poetry Magazine and Poetry Life & Times. The poem's mermaid has aspects of a ghost, phantom and mirage. The mermaid was inspired by ancient myths of Circe, Calypso, Medusa, Atargatis, Ea, Derketo, Thessalonike, Li Ban, Melusine and of the Sirens, Lorelei, Dryads, Nymphs, Sprites, Sylphs, Naiads, Nereides, Nix, Rusalkas, Ceasg and Selkies.
Alice falls in blue hole dizziness,
bedraggled in white-smocked dress,
bloomers, too-high
knee socks, medusa-spread
of dirty-blond hair. Her nastiness hovers around
the royal-red throne with its pink-flamingo-
legs distress, playing cards
floating in 52-card pickup,
white rose with a heart — indicative of not love,
but trouble to come. wide-eyed Alice,
her tea-water splash — wings
of a Summer-hot butterfly.
Hatter, his static-hair sticks
out of his evergreen hat —
upside-down leprechaun.
time, too, hangs like bats
...a child, a girl child, inclined
to be trouble. This Alice ruffles
Queen’s undergarments.
Teeny-tiny rabbit,
barely a tic-toc,
scurries under the floating bush.
time plays tricks.
thrice-appears —
third time, he’s very late, indeed.
The Cheshire’s visibles, gleaming white,
polished as if smiling Sunday shoes,
can’t-help-himself grinning
around that impetuous girl,
who was swallowed whole
by Wonderland.
Alice’s world will turn upside-
down, with the hookah lounge’s
increased smoke. Quite high—
creepy caterpillar caterwauls
at the idea of a human
wriggling around its world.
Blue hole dizziness, this world of dreams,
an escape from reality, a nightmare it seems.
There will be giant and teeny-tiny doors, and
potions to explore. She’s much too young.
This is out of character for a young lady. Out
of sight and mind...mindless fun and mayhem,
a child plays her luck. Alice has lost her way.
She grows down...down...down.
Her head above the clouds, likely to lose it.
5/28/2021
Contest: Blue Hole
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
*Loosely based on characters from Lewis Carrol’s
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
When do you think the sky meets the sea,
At the very end of the day when the sun goes down.
Rest of the day he just looks at her
A Medusa,
Whoever looks at her are unable to take their eyes off
A Blackhole,
You can look forever
When the sea touches the sky
That moment is worth alone a thousand nights.
The Sea,
Can be as calm as the first moment when you touch snow.
The Woman,
Can kill anyone with her eyes.
That's why you don't mess with the sea
The sky couldn't take the risk to lose her forever.
An Enchantress,
The magical power to attract anyone.
The One,
The sky wishes only to be with the sea as one
Even if he has to wait a thousand years.