Long Mystery Poems
Long Mystery Poems. Below are the most popular long Mystery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mystery poems by poem length and keyword.
EarthCare Elders
repurposed our red brick industrial
BrownField
Including a rusted metal box
the size and shape of a giant's coffin
orange and dingy brown
metal flaking paradox
floating toward sacred ground
along river's sweeping fed up bed.
Here lived a racoon mother
as had her Elder EarthMother
before her,
members of an indigenous EarthTribe
with river wisdom
long before our anthro-privileged
patriarchal/matriarchal political
and capital economic divisive time,
perhaps more cooperatively sublime.
Because of Mother Racoon's prior claim,
our Elders could not remove this blatant blight
from commercial waterfront views
when they salvaged the metal roof
beneath it
to install solar panels
and repurposed metal blades
for wind turbines
Facing south
toward Long Island's soundless waves
and marshy breezes,
rapture to our downstream raptors.
So, instead of decapitating
this rusted tomb for racoon's rest
Her bedroom was brushed,
redressed high up
above our healing river
and painted fiery red
with a black raptor's feathered eye
guarding furious west
across autumn's sky
Relentlessly watching
our rivered valley
as trees burn orange
rich crimson
mellow yellow.
Our sacred river eye
of gratitude for River Gaia's flowing
watch back through transportive time.
She brought us rich soil,
luscious drinking water from the North,
seeds of grass,
raspberry and blackberry vines,
mountain laurel,
blueberry and cranberry bushes,
maple and oak and chestnut
and evergreens,
Edibles and ornamentals,
mushrooms and nuts,
berries and squash
and melons,
herbs and strawberries,
squirrels and frogs and bears,
cats and wolves,
bats and eagles
flowing and following upstream sometimes
collaboratively unaware
But, mostly down deep under,
sprouting magical thunder
awe and sacred wonder
All this
before our Raptor's Eye
for those who see
what others hear
of EarthTribe's mystery.
Twas the end of year when nights grow dark
And stars twinkle in midnight sky.
The earth was asleep and trees leaflessly slumbered,
Under the hedges sheltered small creatures and birds
While hedgehogs snuffled and dormice dreampt.
Softly it fell without fuss or trumpet,
Covering the ground with soft white blanket.
Stifling the sounds into still and quiet,
Laying on branches weighing them down,
Turning all the world white and brown.
‘Tis then that he comes all a twinkle and shine,
With shining toes and dazzling clothes,
With an icicle dripping from his nose.
Unseen and unheard pirouetting and pose,
Leaping and bowing until all is froze.
Creatures shiver and hold close
As star like, snow glistens and glows
But by mornings light and winter dawn,
He has passed by and gone,
Leaving only, the sound of twinkling toes.
I'm still tryna paint this picture
But in the mean time I'll draw me
So that I'm able to think things through
Just like how I be staring at this blank page called life
It's been a blank page all my life that's why I've been writing
Hoping to have my thoughts written down everyday
So that I've got something to read out to when I succeed
For I'd want it to be a colourful speech with a tear or two
That's why I started with just a drawing of me
Before I could picture people in my life
For I can't imagine people who've made my memories blank
You need to have coloured my world before getting to be on the same page
I'm still tryna paint this picture
I keep having ideas of what I want it to be
But I keep changing them before I put them down
For some are just not worth noting down
For I want to look back at my notes and only have to recall
Things that will give me insights to a brighter future
Cause I already have my shadow to remind me of my dark past
And I've got me to remind myself of what truly matters
Thats why for now it will just be me in my picture
While I keep adjusting the frame to get a better view
Of what I need to set my vision on
For I've got to walk towards it, maybe there I'll get the picture
The PO£T
In your presence, a trembling dance unfolds,
Why do you shake, a mystery untold?
Each moment shared, a delicate quake,
Like dropped perfume, memories break.
At my mom's farewell, a somber day,
Our worlds collided in an unusual way.
Others observed, a subtle connection,
In shared grief, a silent reflection.
Amidst the whispers, a lingering desire,
Yet, your silence fans love's quiet fire.
Why won't you call, unveil the enigma?
In the unsaid words, emotions stigma.
Around me, tremors echo unexplained,
A dance of nerves, feelings unrestrained.
Perfumed memories, a fragrant cloak,
In the unspoken, our hearts bespoke.
I wade through the grass of hope like a criminal in the night, looking for a lost soul long grass blade beats in my face as I try to clear the path in the dark that destiny hold, while the birds in the tree to sit still and chirp at the mystery lurking below.
No one takes that path but my spirit leads
For something is transpiring there and it
Is causing the people to fear.
Grass exist more than a century ago when the mountain was steep and flocks used to graze in the
Burning heat, they don’t graze there anymore, the have moved closer to the shore. And now pampas grass, median grass, fountain grass and all forms of ornamental grass have invaded the land and that is where destiny stands.
I didn’t know that someone was living there
And every morning I walk my dog in the park
But I have never seen anyone going or coming from there.
The weeds have overgrown and it has attracted whispers all over the town. Gossip spreads
Throughout the street and everyone tells a different tale to the people that the meet.
The lights are never turn on and the village people watch from morning to mid-night and another set watch from midnight till daylight and not a sign of life but I could feel my heart beating in my dream and someone was hiding beneath the basement that leads to the stream, the place is well it inside bu the external darkness resides on the other but the people inside was lost in another world.
Come with me let me show you an age old mystery
Mankind lurk in outer darkness but there is a light that no one can see, it watches over you and me and that light is protecting me.
The devil lives in the dark but you can lead it to the city of light before midnight
Boy and girl, intertwined, a simple yet charming story,
Under the starry sky, they basked in the glory of their burning love.
Enchanted, they smiled, a bundle of pure and sublime delight,
Two halves of a whole, the kiss of destiny, a divine spell.
Dreams shared, a perfect exchange of hearts burning with desire,
Naive souls, blinded by the spell of new love, full of hope.
Tender promises, vows of eternal belonging together,
Until his secret gaze turned her heart into unknown rains.
Whispers hid beneath the silence of hidden, heavy lies,
The charm faded, sparks shone elsewhere, like stars.
Trust rebuilt, commitments found a new meaning,
In shadows and light, love evolved and grew with a new understanding.
Happily ever after, an old and boring story,
Haven't you heard of the magic of modern, dizzying love?
Modern love, a kaleidoscope of emotions and constant changes,
A silk thread woven with shadows and blazing sun rays.
The dance of paradox, love changes its garments with grace,
A spectacle of hearts seeking to be completed with passion.
A perpetual magic, enchanting and transforming every passing moment,
Modern love is an endless mystery, a game of hearts in search.
Do the dancing shadows of the swaying trees
make me grasp that all the shrilling fowls
have gone to rest and dusk will increase fears...
not until a stomping phantasmal image prowls!
A swift phantom stalks me,
I worry that it'll harm me;
if phantoms incessantly haunt
and infuse fear in the faintest
of heart...will his groans taunt?
I don't look back and rant!
Are other phantoms down the murky
path where owls stare and coo strangely;
Even they are frightened and seem frail,
and seeing me run they scatter over the trail;
I show goosebumps on the arms and face
as the unyielding ghost keeps a fast pace.
Has this happened to a nightwalker seeking loneliness
who likes to stroll and reflect on the awesomeness
of such infinite universe for us to own tomorrow?
Has someone felt the urge to explore and not fear
a crawling sound, or the shabby wanderers that leer?
If I stop thinking of that swift phantom stalking me,
I lose the sense of imagination that nature isn't too safe...
instead it must thrill me and connect me to enchanted silence
and to God who promises His protection whenever I may be.
You have been going to that place and disguising your face, your actions are slick, and your motion is distinguished, you have been coming and going for a long time and disappearing in broad day light and in the dark without leaving a trace of evidence behind to comfort the divine.
Every day I ask the same question, is that you? and then my adrenaline race and my vein began to vibrate. I said to myself how could you be in two different places at the same time, and I think about it thereafter with lots of questions bubbling up inside. It is the male perfume that sometimes gives you away, the smell takes a long time before it fades away and the fashion that you wear highlight your innate desires.
Sometimes it gives me the creep when you are so discreet, you spend Christmas at home alone sitting on the ground and staring at the lighted Christmas tree, what mystery surrounds you what legacy awaits you; to stay in the game you have to pretend to be insane. You could be anywhere like the troll hiding under the bridge and frighten the children on their way from school.
Morning has come and gone leaving me staring in the sky watching the thick clouds rolling by and the cars running up and down the street with a banging sound that vibrates the entire ground.
I walked around the place looking for something concrete to hold onto, but your image is always there, and the birds keep flying to and fro with whispers of the man and woman trapped on the bed and how the heavens watched diligently over their head.
There is a strange phenomenon budding on the vine and the men on the railway track are standing in line, they are getting ready to protest low wages and company benefit.
I immediately clamp it down with a bugle, a drum and five pounds. The fields are thick, and the profit will make you rich. The design has broken the ice and the color in the sky spreads out over the ocean water.
When you come here next time you must confront your destiny and face the divine. The man on the corner has a pigeon heart so careful of how you negotiate with him he has committed a terrible sin.
Tree Top Dancers
and Circus Clowns
The neighbors moved away.
They said nothing to anyone,
they just left.
New people took the home.
There was a big truck.
It was full of boxes,
and a TV.
It was jam-packed with animals...
and cages and crates,
and statutes of...
Greek women holding water vases,
Greek men with harps.
The truck itself was all blue.
Funny, even the tires.
Odd.
I watched as they unloaded other things;
a giant clock that rang...
from the time they took it from the vehicle,
until it went... inside... (hushed tones).
There was a deep freezer,
the size you could fit six grown men...in.
One on top of another...
a side; by side by side by side, by side, by side.
There was a trunk with a hunchback,
and then a hunchback with a trunk.
What can I say... they were a pair,
I had to stare.
Unfair, I looked away.
Then the mom, and the dad...
came rolling up the drive.
They were in a giant bread truck;
made of cowhide?
A dozen kids on the back,
and even a few on a rack?
A lively crew of gypsies.
Carnies, forced to retire;
from long days,
now gone.
The circus, the show,
the festival of colors;
no more...
Come to a new place,
to put on a new face,
to leave no trace,
of all that was left behind.
Yet how do you start a fresh life,
from a comfortable place you always lived,
upside down, right side up,
cheers all around,
and elephants that danced,
giraffes that sang,
and popcorn was the main course;
at dinner.
Now everyday life,
full of strife,
trying to make things right,
somewhere in the world.
The clowns still make some laugh,
at every funny gaff,
even if...
it is not in a big shoe,
or under a giant tent.
Be happy.
It is a choice.
How does one describe true love
But a feeling deep down in your soul
Intangible, a mystery, a true enigma
We're all actors playing a role
It's why this world keeps turning round
Been repeated countless times
The truest passion we'll ever possess
The ultimate in feelings sublime
Imagine a world without this treasure
An armada of empty vessels
Floating along on a nothingness sea
Riding life's precarious trestle
My love and I are truly fortunate
To have found this illusive dream
An enigma that has long puzzled us all
Since man first came on the scene
© Jack Ellison 2015