Long Mysterious Poems
Long Mysterious Poems. Below are the most popular long Mysterious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mysterious poems by poem length and keyword.
Whispering leaves, cherry blossoms
pigeons grumbling, winds howling in the dark.
On land, on water
like a cup of gold
sun rises to the occasion, yet
Winter's witchery
Keeps Spring daffodil at bay.
All power all motive
center on the unwelcome intruder
hitching a ride with every
wailing ambulance.
No fairy princess
bringing back the crown,
only a vagabond with
no compassion, no resolve
to reveal its mysterious origin.
It is its own, imperial, alone.
No use looking for accomplices,
waiting for the Godot of vaccine.
In disenchantment deep and dry
sharp fear and thinning patience
re-open an old debate
on virtues of long sleep, and the depth of recession.
("July 7 - Hot and Blue", 2024, original encaustic)
Turning to Become
As they say, humans are like onions,
Densely layered and prone to making others cry.
But I think a better metaphor is Earth herself,
After all the Good Book tells us
We are created in God’s image.
At the surface all is sweetness and light,
The abundant fruits of survival’s tricky game,
While just below tectonic plates drift to a darker rhythm
Leading to all sorts of uncontrollable forces,
And at the core, something unknown,
But pure and original nonetheless.
So with us, we show our best at the surface,
While just below swell the barely repressed tides
Of biases and bigotries, passions and poisons.
And at our core the mysterious essence abides,
Pure but powerful,
The clear light of primordial awareness
For lack of a better, poetic term.
Each of us is such a complex world,
The micro expressing the macro,
Each of us challenged with being ourselves
And getting along with others.
From cradle to grave Life is the constant,
While we the change
The world is turning to become.
(7/10/24)
The one that got away (Ten word challenge-2 Contest sample)
An AMBIVALENT mood engulfs me, as BITTERSWEET memories
meander in my mind.I was 15 she was 17,yes an older woman.
She was so ARCANE, mysterious, and FLAMBOYANT at the same time.
She was the QUINTESSENCE of sophistication, a LUSCIOUS ripe fruit
waiting for a TACTILE experience.
I was so innocent, so QUIESCENT in my thoughts, I felt I needed
an INTERCESSOR, to offer my IMMOLATION of love to her.
So, I asked my best friend to approach her for me, and ask her to dance.
They danced the night away together, yes she was the one that got away!
Sample for ten word challenge-2 contest
10 obligatory words to be used highlighted
in capital letters.
Give it a try!
Looking forward to your entry!
John Derek Hamilton
October26,2016
Depriving me of the guidance I needed to grow up, father's departure was the closest that death came to me. Ten years later, he came and took away my grandmother, the absolute dearest to my heart, but death never cared. He was ruthless, terrorizing, never ceasing to wreck and ruin, and although death ceased for a twenty-five year period, he came again, squizzing life out of my loving mother. O dark and mysterious one, you delight in the gloom. O stinging monster, have you no pause, rest, or stillness? O despiser of tranquility, your eternal doom shall surely come.
01152019PoSoupContest, 10 Lines, 10 Words, Free Verse, Lu Loo Theme: Death
Stuff; worldwide problem
People buy and buy; they use and use, eat and eat
Without proper way to maintain it stuff
They just dump; some store it in a clutter for days before dump
Some dump it any where they like
And forgot environment hygiene
However, they overfilled local fill
Our areas is full of stinks
Yet we can't to purchasing or using it
It even increasing everyday
Yea, our refuses increasing also
God work is mysterious he created Mankind like god
Our government has long discover
How to transform waste to energy and they are doing Their best but it is not enough
If we can join hands, if it is possible within
Our Local and State government
We can build this kind of company to take care of
Our stuff and our problem
Will be solving, it will also develop our country
15/6/2015
CONTEST: STUFF
SPONSOR by THOMAS MARTIN
Could I ever forget you my little paternal home?
Your reminiscence haunts me however far I might roam.
That mysterious nook wherein my mother gave me birth,
That treasure-chamber, where there never had been dearth for mirth...
That corner where, for first-time, I felt your motherly kiss,
Where with milk and maternal bond I drank your baffling bliss...
That home where, as young, many human virtues I learned,
Performing little things, where, from elders, esteems I earned...
Its each stone and each tile, had marvelous stories to tell,
Mixing, like milk and sugar, tales of heaven and hell...
When storms and tempests shook you, my roots within me did shake,
Though calm and still I sat; my heart, as pricked by thorns, did ache...
Could I forget that cashew-groove, palms and coconut trees?
Each little flower that, like novice dancer, sway in breeze...
That little pond, where I learned swimming and somersaulted,
Near which for inspirations to my poems, I halted...
Oh! Those little sparrows! Don’t they seem less in number now?
Those eagles in polite fury! Where are they, anyhow?
Though old and shaking, do not kindly fall down, home dearest...!
When life says slow good-bye to me, I'd love stay your nearest...!
23 July 2022
Floating in the air, clinging to a beam of light
Dust particles drift in and out of the soft rays
Bound to create a gentle place of worshipful
Promises within the caress of their wandering
Praise that seems to carry with it a silent prayer
Hovering in the gleaming sparks of a sunny day
The glittering brush of particles create an aura of
Mystery, sensitive to the creator’s hand of grace
Amid the image captured by time, colored in hues
Of amber waves, animations of the still, small voice
God whispers faith, hope and love amid the sparkling
Glimmers of hovering specks that wander aimlessly
Along the smiling sunshine shafts of elegant, weightless
Wispy glow that comes from the heavens and fills us
With a mysterious joy from knowing His warm embrace
Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
August 7, 2020
It’s the darkness, flooding the silent room
A still so bitter it flows, splashing fears
Weary as the moments I would never presume
Pierce the heart with feelings, frantic tears
It’s the night, breathing in echoes of anxiety
Murmuring shadows who still the soul
Wiping out the silhouettes of notoriety
Following the screams of a dread’s control
It’s the dusk, ending twilight’s gentle tunes
Mysterious doubts penetrating the light
Causing such nightmares beyond ghostly moons
Assuring we’ll not go down without a fight
It’s the “C” word – the one that leaves such dread
A feeling of panic in anxious winds who seek prayers
It’s the song that is so uncertain of what lies ahead
Maybe we’ll see the wonder of this angel – unawares
It’s called cancer – but this word leaves only questions
Where did it come from? How can I find the solutions?
It’s an illness beyond understanding of any suggestions
As I seek, this disease is destroying my heart’s absolutions
It’s the hope, given by the maker of all creation
Who blesses my soul with acceptance of what has come
It is hope - that lifts me, giving my spirit elation
Because I know the One who can always overcome
It’s the darkness, flowing over my heart and soul
Weakening my faith – still I know the One who is love
And He holds the answers that will surely make me whole
He is the way, the truth, the life – that comes from above
It’s the sickening feeling that stills my soul’s desire
Breathing a prayer, I feel the warmth of His gentle gift
Assurance, that whatever comes, He is my heart’s supplier
And through love, He will always provide – and He is swift
It’s the old story of fear that seems so destructive
But, He is with me and I know His grace, so real
While I remain worried, He is always so constructive
And He will carry me – as my scared heart shall kneel
It’s the old story of a life changed by illness
But, He is still working – always alive and kind
While I live in this world, I know the dark’s stillness
But, there is another world that grace defined…
In the next world, I’ll not know the meaning of cancer
In the next world, I’ll be assured of an endless life
In the next world, my Jesus will be my spirit’s dancer
In the next world, He’ll offer joy, without any fear or strife
I go in search of an elusive Muse.
Her flight has left my vessels cracked and dry.
Shafts of moonlight bathing o’er savannah,
radiates no mist of magic in my mind,
where once we danced in step with wildest drums
and from my pen out flowed the words with ease.
An artist on a trapeze I swing with ease,
I ride a flying carpet in the arms of my Muse,
conquering worlds to the battle echo of the drums.
Never did I dip my pen in ink all dry,
I lived a fancy dream world in my mind,
exotic fantasies in wild savannah.
The moon a giant pearl in my savannah,
with wind a soothing breeze, I slept with ease.
The warmth of night shadows reassured my mind,
vanquished my phantoms as I journeyed with my Muse
ever gracious, her gift jars never dry.
Words poured out unceasing from her drums.
But now I feel the silence of the drums,
menacing clouds float over savannah,
the grassy plains once green, now are dry.
A flock of birds have plucked my words with ease,
like leaves they gather to lay at the feet of the Muse.
I am a scarecrow left bare and empty of mind.
My pen drags, no words come out my mind,
the ghosts of dead poets beat the drums,
marching, losing rhythm, without my Muse.
I beg the wind to find her in savannah,
bring her back to me, my pain to ease,
to cease poetic juices from bleeding dry.
My riverbeds continue to run dry,
without my Muse, I know I’ve lost my mind,
I can’t afford to leave the Art with ease.
In mysterious chambers deaf to the drums
I retire to salve my wounds in deep savannah,
and dream of waking up at the touch of my Muse.
I wait for my Muse, though she has left me dry,
In savannah I shall stay until my mind
hears the drums, again to write with ease.
How Does a Soul Enter Heaven?
How does a soul enter Heaven?
Suddenly. Often quietly. Whole and Complete.
Stepping through the flimsy membrane of time
On scented leaves of healing for the nations
Born from earth’s womb into once blinding glory
Lead along in a mysterious path of crossroads
Detours and mystical coincidence
A struggling bud bursting into full bloom
Beholding for the first time the Anointed face
No longer veiled in holy incense from eye bound eyes.
How does the soul enter Eternity?
Knowing its need for God in finality’s answer
All deliriums answered
In a charismatic kiss
Prodigal rags of empty pits,
Valleys of compassion left homeless
And piercing arrows of shattered words
Fall away
No Eden’s shame for the unclothed soul
Shining alabaster in luminescent pearls.
How does a soul enter Paradise?
Turmoil – forgotten; Temptation – overcome;
Rejection – forgiven;
Psalms of sweet arias sing reveries
Of prayers prayed, cloaks shared –
A simple cup of water –
The way made straight in a pledged troth
The bridegroom’s betrothal consummated
Eternal sigh beneath trees by the crystal fountain
In the open arms of pure grace.
How does a soul enter Heaven?
To words of welcome – good and faithful servant.
2-4-23