Long Mystique Poems
Long Mystique Poems. Below are the most popular long Mystique by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mystique poems by poem length and keyword.
mystique mist
of
opaque veil
designs
amorphous ambiguity
swathes suppressed
penultimate pathway
to
terminal time-post
in
future cauldron
obscure
sunset swansong
in
transient twilight
resonates
in
void valley
of
abandoned life
forlorn
silhouetted still
against
somber skyline
of
indigo filigree
of
melancholic epithet
turmoil threads
embroider
morbid motif
at
pallid fringe
of
obsessed cloud
of
passion clumps
with fervor fringe
frayed
by
sensuous storm
from
onyx horizon
ornate once
with
halcyon hues
constructs
chameleon chimera
ephemeral
configured illusion
on
yearning canvas
ablaze
in
cold flame
of
dormant desire
frozen
memory menagerie
from
burnt relic
flies away
in
wasteland whirlwind
unbound
hope shards
adrift
in
poignant current
of
fluid psyche
ductile
flow flustered
in
sullen stream
of
billion teardrops
in
twilight terrain
remnant rays
of
sublime sunset
shapeshift
into strings
of
intuition violin
resonant
symphony echoes
still
the last vibrato
behind fallen curtain
for
lone audience
latent concerto
suffuses life
listless
with
tuneful resonance
of
sonorous sanguinity
timeless
In twilight's silhouette I rock my mind to sleep
An effort to release me to a slumber so deep
The mystique of dreams unfolds in the night
A canvas peacefully painted in the faint moonlight
Far-reaching sensations in a hypnotic trance
Settle into serenity after light’s last glance
Counting grains of white sand as time in retreat
Next to sweeping fields full of golden wheat
Light-hearted reality sways in the breeze
My relaxed mind drifts through nocturnal seas
Paying homage to the effort it took to get here
Relinquishing power to an idyllic rest I hold dear
My mind striking a melodic chord in rhythmic tune
Dancing with the moon until sun’s morning boon
In the futile triviality
of the desolate wasteland,
a sunburnt solitary tree
languished a long while,
cast nonetheless
on the parched ground
a sensuous shadow,
my secret sanctum.
A crystal path I had paved
to the realm of retreated yearning,
along the contorted contours
of the disguised desire,
where intrepid roses bloomed
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me on mirage
to the oasis of reverie.
In the motif of morphed image
in my unclosed eyes
the lanced landscape turned
into the garden of glory,
the fringe of flying cloud
captured colors of horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
captivating concerto of twilight.
In mystique night you came enticed,
floated on the flair of stardust,
radiant in the amorous aurora
of silver sequined moonshine,
lifted the shroud of secrecy,
entered my forlorn abode,
where I dreamed,
I was the full moon in your sky.
There is a world within our language that’s we’ve spoken since our childhood…
but when it is misused…does more harm than good.
DIFFERENT is the word and I wonder…wouldn’t it cause less fuss…
If when we saw another person…we didn’t see them as different from us.
For when we see someone as different…fear seeps into our hearts and minds
and where there’s fear…animosity and hatred and prejudice…are not often far behind.
What starts out merely as a way to tell me apart from you…and you apart from me…
somehow ends up with each of us treating the other differently.
We end up in a world of labels…a world of discrimination…of chaos and entropy…a world of injustice, a world of oppression…a world of wars and bigotry.
A world where suspicion and distrust rule…and seeds of animosity are sown…all because we find traits in others….that are different from our own.
What if there was a different word than different that would help our thinking to revise?
That would allow us to look upon each other with less judgmental eyes…
What if we weren’t afraid of our differences…but reveled in their mystique?
What if instead of seeing others as different…we saw each other as UNIQUE?
Perhaps then we‘d focus less on the differences and become more aware
of not only each other’s uniqueness…but what that uniqueness has to share.
He or she is different…Do you hear how in that word hoe negativity abounds?
He or she is unique….Do you hear how wonderful that sounds?
I magine, by now, you’re thinking how different I am…perhaps you’re disagreeing…wondering how I can hope and pray for a world there’s no chance I will be seeing.
Yes…as I hope to live in a world where people are more accepted and their differences less critiqued….you may call me different…but I prefer the word…unique.
Yesterday's Flame
The candle’s flame still dances with the breeze
and casts her playful shadows on the wall
that pique imaginations with a tease
and bring back ancient memories that please,
and yet her flame’s not bright as I recall.
This once tall, slender beauty was quite chic,
in evening's dimming light she graced the room
while glowing with a certain soft mystique
that always left emotions feeling weak,
and filled my senses with her sweet perfume.
The fervent flame that left a warming glow
and captured my imagination’s dreams,
still softly burns, though not as bright a glow
that conjured ancient dreams I used to know,
and yet she still emits her gentle beams.
Today this candle doesn’t stand as tall;
her fabled slender fading figure flees
while beads of wax, like aging teardrops, fall;
though not the tapered beauty I recall,
her gentle flame still dances with the breeze.
February 20, 2024
The machine awakens as a coin slithers in the slot,
a smoky voice whorls through the satin curtains.
Zoltar waggles his head,
hand hanging on the crystal ball.
His grave voice utters a mysterious prophecy -
“You look for the future, but it’s within you”.
Ensnared in a perennial aura of velvet and neon,
his eyes are fixed on a point of fused time.
His pallid hands hover over the crystal,
weaving a quiet mesh out of our despondency.
Zoltar speaks,
we believe the cosmos is stilled to answer
the riddle of fortune scripted for us
that resonates the intonation of destiny,
condensing into a display of prediction
getting access to something deep and profound,
stimulating the eternal human desire
to know the mystique future.
Of its nuances in a delightfully dramatic manner
Zoltar speaks.
Relaxing to a rain song serenade
Which breaks the stillness of hot southern nights
Fat bullfrogs harmonize while crickets play
A melting moon drips waxy yellow light
The motion of the porch swing cools your sweat
It's rhythm synchronizes with fireflies
Romantic nights like these remove regrets
Because they seem to somehow hypnotize
And yet to you they may not sound unique
With rain song serenades and melting moon
Our breathless southern nights have a mystique
Tranquility sings such a peaceful tune
If you think southern nights are not your thing
Come spend one with me on my old porch swing
an original poem by Daniel Turner
mystique mist
of opaque veil
designs in desolation
amorphous ambiguity
swathes with singularity
penultimate pathway
obscure
at terminal time-post
of future crypt
a m b I g u o u s
sunset swansong
in transient twilight
resonates
in void valley
of abandoned present
silhouetted still
on somber skyline
of indigo filigree
morphing into
melancholic epithet
e n g r a v e d
turmoil threads
embroider morbid motif
at pallid tassel
of obsessed clouds
latticed by passion clumps
with fervor fringe
f r a y e d
sensuous storm
from onyx horizon
ornate once
with halcyon hues
constructs chameleon chimera
of configured illusion
on yearning canvas
ablaze in cold flame
of dormant desire
f r o z e n
memory menagerie
from burnt relic
flies away
in wasteland whirlwind
u n b o u n d
hope shards adrift
in poignant current
of fluid psyche
ductile
flow flustered
in sullen stream
of billion teardrops
in twilight terrain
reminiscent
of remnant rays
of sublime sunset
shape shifting
to intuition violin
r e s o n a n t
symphony echoes
the last vibrato
behind fallen curtain
for the lone audience
latent concerto
suffuses listless life
with tuneful resonance
of sonorous sanguinity
e t e r n a l
Like a dislodged lonely leaf my mind floats far away
in the quiet introspection river from life’s cacophony
to a placid blue lake lodged in serene scene on display,
soaks the azure melody of the pulsating sky’s euphony.
In the awareness light the tree of essence doesn’t glow,
its still boughs don’t sway in beguiled stance any more,
strife vortex has sucked the shattered tranquil shadow,
as the wings of joyful breeze find a new course to soar.
The mystique mist drops a screen of serene solitude,
while the heavenly cloud descends drizzling ecstasy
as rapturous rain on the perception milieu of quietude,
its music echoes in my soul with alluring aria of revelry.
The consciousness river flows silently to the divine sea,
plunging at its inner precinct, the devout mind I extol,
perceive the threads of vibrant stillness weave for me,
the tapestry of profound bliss within my sanctified soul.
___________________
February 22, 2022
Contest : Vibrant Blissful Stillness (N/A)
September 18, 2022
Topic : Spirituality
Contest : Your Second Chance 2nd Submission
Sponsored by : Sotto Poet
You descend down the spiral flight of stairs,
floating in the cascade of blazing blue flame,
the ivory hands stoking up the fire of desire
as ember lust dances on the ballerina feet.
I see you glide like a flying blue fairy,
draped in mesmeric trance of azure grandeur,
but fail to fathom your demure dimension
in the oceanic depth of infinite mystery.
Like the aquamarine waves of swaying sea
you twirl on crests of ebullient exuberance.
In the drizzle of mystique night’s moondust
you sparkle like the bejeweled cobalt sky.
Soaked in the color of your sapphire flair
I reach the edge of expansive imagination,
where in the empty canvas of my heart,
in hues of indigo passion I paint my dreams.
December 17, 2019
Contest : Blue Dress
Sponsor : Anthony Slausin