Long Necklaces Poems

Long Necklaces Poems. Below are the most popular long Necklaces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Necklaces poems by poem length and keyword.


The Season Is Changing

The Season is changing


Like every thing of life, the season is changing,
The water laden clouds are vanishing gradually,
Leaving space for the scattered yellow pink and white,
The birds are chattering on green branches of trees,
Before the leaves turn purple or gold or get pale to leave.

The season of summer heat and tiring humidity,
Is gradually transforming into cool blowing breeze,
The Sun is spreading its golden treasure so lavishly, 
Spreading its wealth of gold dust, on the wondering clouds,
And throwing rest of its treasures, on fields, forests and hills.

Hey, look the Koyal* is lost in its melodious singing,
To celebrate the joy and mirth that fascinates it a lot, 
Without thinking for a moment, about the by gone past,
Or pondering in worry for a future, which is not,
Singing and singing only one day it would get lost.

From the North West, the new birds have started showing, 
Their appearances, while clanking their wings in the sky,
And forming shapes of alluring elegance and beauty,
As a lovely guest they come, in the bunch of sky necklaces,
To make us realize that the season and the life too is changing.

Ravindra

Kanpur India 5th Sept. 2010

* Koyal.    A singing bird of India like nightingale.


The Jewelry We Wear

I don’t remove or change my rings;
All four I’ve worn for years,
Unlike my huge collection of 
What dangles from my ears.

My necklaces and bracelets 
I switch out and do with care,
Depending on the style of clothing
That I choose to wear.

Around my wrist’s a watch;
I own a few (one even winds!)
And when I’m sockless, on my ankle,
Chains of varied kinds.

My husband wears his wedding band
And that is the extent
Of jewelry he sports
(Though somehow watches came and went).

Displaying our adornments 
Is quite personal, it’s true,
But it’s also a reflection 
Of ourselves that others view.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member - Dusty Box of Memories -

    My dusty box of memories
    can be compared to
            Aladdins wonderful lamp
    Yellow brass with a shiny
    and elegant appearance
    Everyone has a genie
    that resides in the subconscious

    When the lid is opened
    it smells of jasmine and rose petals
    feminine and unique
    Feeds my heart with
                    the scent she loved
   

    It did not belong to a royal person
    but my dear mother
    She was a woman who spent time
    finding the right outfit
    with different bijouterie
    A wide range of jewelry, bracelets,
    earrings, necklaces and rings

    As an aged photo album -
                I let the jewelry
    run through my fingers as a rosary
    Dear memories flow
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Heritage Day, May 2063

They dock at the old ferry landing,
drip fern-water and quartz dust,
pull shapes from a memory
nobody can name.
 
The news calls them pioneers.
The city calls for volunteers:
one hundred credits a shift,
hazard pay if you stay after dark.
 
We line the streets in plastic ponchos,
swing buckets of bleach
at whatever falls from them—
glass teeth, velvet skins,
the small, sad faces they wear like necklaces.
 
The mayor cuts a ribbon made of hair,
offers a key to the city
that dissolves in the taker's hand.
 
Still, the parade lurches on:
a hollowed calf that leaks birds from its eyes,
a choir of mouths stitched into a winter coat,
a gloved hand, walking on its fingertips,
asking directions in sign language.
 
We clap.
We wave flags.
We rinse the sidewalk behind them, smiling.
 
We stay because the escape pod is too expensive.
There was never room for us anyway.

The loudspeakers keep saying:
Welcome home. Welcome home. Welcome home.

Premium Member Land Feet First

Fool me once, shame on you;
     fool me twice, shame on me.

                               Proverb

Let me tell you a story:

subjected to twenty-four
hours of snooze
   the same old news
played on repeat
   passed as if
mouth to ear

better yet the strange
  the criminal caught
     in the act
incomplete acrobat
   trapezing through the ceiling
      to stare squarely
into the eyes of the law

his gun in his pants
   he can’t reach
he swings around like a caged bird
   hoping to freefall
so he can make a run for it

the fake cop
says, “Get a load of this, boys!”
then he throws the youngster to the ground,
“Off with you! We were here first!”

and then, the fake cop
turns around and stares
into a real badge -
   his eyes chest high

the cop’s eyes hanging over
his head, trapezing
   until they wink,
“Take him away, boys!”

the rubies, sapphires and diamonds sparkle.
   necklaces and bracelets, safe…

well, two bracelets clasp the wrists
      of the outwitted twit
   painfully so

alas      his girlfriend will find another dupe
   a younger one 
who just might get the job done
   this time he’ll land on two feet
      with his gun in hand
smarter than his former self

he’ll send a note
   incognito 
from a private island
   to a cocky jailbird
as him and his eye candy
clink together
their passionfruit mojitos

heads thrown back
in the throes
of laughter and lovemaking

4/23/2022
Form N - Narrative
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Funny
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Button

How cutely and compactly you fasten,
My shirt and coat and make me smart looking;
Could I fancy my woolen coat open,
For a chilly cold wave to break us through?
How a bit decoration on you change,
Shirt or skirt or blouse or frock or jacket! 
Wallets, purses, and bags wear you proudly,
Your ornamental face shining on them;
Our children play 'Messy Tray' and 'Name Plate',
They match you, sort you, arrange ardently;
Make necklaces, collages, and countless patterns,
Fun and frolic surround their play groups;
Sand play; dress up play; play dough; ode one out,
Of you we make puppets and play bingo;
Do our nursery mathematics end,
Unless we learn counting, first, with buttons?
Don't buttons teach lessons on 'life balance'?
Don't they teach us core ethical values?
Isn't button a nod of connection,
Betwixt brain behaviors in psychic molds?
Truth, respect, procession, and progression,
Crush and quash disrespect, insults, and lies?
Symbolizing control, calm, and courage,
You end depression and low self esteem;
O button, just like doors safeguard my house,
You save my physique from perilous risks...!!!

16 March 2023

Premium Member Grape Harvest

The chartreuse pearls hung on the pregnant vine
as whispered jade of leaves in autumn breeze.
The necklaces of trellis did entwine
like clefs of absinthe notes in verdant keys.

Limes envied grapes reflecting fervent sun,
bright clusters for musicians then to splay
in shamrock fields with fables to be spun
of emeralds and pears in harvest play.

Cerulean spread 'cross effulgent sky
when came the time for plucking of the harp.
Lithe fingers did each picker then apply
and place with grace refrains upon the tarp.

In peridot the countryside rejoiced
while to reprise fruition gave a voice.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Still Life Autumn

Yellowish leaves like gold flake necklaces fall;
Sunshine gleam like golden snakes on them crawl...! 

The sky seems blue dominated rainbow,
Clouds, in gaudy garbs, play a fashion show...!

Each fading bloom bids bye to the other,
Mourning weather environs does smother...!

The fragrance of flora fills the smell buds,
The scent of healing herbs in the breeze floods...!

Sneezing of cool water streams gently splash,
Fins of anglerfish like rain lightning flash...!

Ripe figs, plums, and passion fruits shake their heads,
Nodding winter though they feel many threats...!

Weddings of blooms, leaves, and fruits mesmerize,
Though these seem strange for starving butterflies...!

Sun, moon, and stars stand still needing graces,
The universe and cosmos show faces...!

Midst brightness and darkness autumn moves on,
Forerunning Christ's coming like Baptist John...! 

Splendors of autumn within I treasure,
Though some I have spelled, they're beyond measure...!

16 December 2022 
Still-Life Autumn Scene Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Form: Couplet

Premium Member The History of Elephant Necklaces

The first one broke
When Lauren
ran away 

the substance of my soul
hollowed out 
in rusted metal
and the bronze
charm fell off 
leaving just the word
"luck"
dangling 
on a broken 
chain

I left
Pearlz Oyster bar
where I waitressed
and drove to Seabrook 
 to find her
angry at her, and God

I was in love
with Fleetwood Mac
and I listened to
‘Seven Wonders’
on repeat, 
the whole way there
tearing through the air 
in my 2007 
Toyota Corolla

The second necklace 
was ivory
with small 
metal beads
I found it cheap
and wore it close 
when I needed to feel 
Lauren 
against my heart 

That one broke 
when I tried too hard
to find closure,
my way
after I resigned 
from my previous 
school

The beads crackled
and ran 
across the cold, uncaring
marble floor 

I didn’t pick up many
and no elephants
hit the ground

I spent the night
restringing beads 
from that necklace
and added charms 
I had kept
from when I was a little girl
and freshwater pearls
from another necklace 
I broke on purpose
to rework and restring 
into the song of me


I have assembled scraps
and memories 
into a new
exquisite life
and necklace

This one 
will not break
but, if it does
it will just be 
another
opportunity
© CC Bloom  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Precious Jewels

How she loved diamonds, her birthstone.
Literally diamonds were her best friends.
    She worked very hard and each piece
of jewelry she bought made her happy.
      Cluster of diamonds or solitaires, emeralds
and sapphires with diamonds set in precious
        metals of gold or platinum, earrings, bracelets,
necklaces in gold and Rolex gem-set watches.
The most precious ones were the four carat diamond
        solitaire ring, the twelve carat graduated
Riviere necklace bought at auctions and the Rolex
      watch with diamond-set bezel and dial.
She collected her precious jewels for decades.
    Those precious jewels were her pride and joy. 
Her eyes sparked when she showed them, and
her excitement filled the room with joy.
    She died ten years ago, and her eldest daughter
kept them without sharing any with her sister.
      Where are the precious jewels now?
        Sold, pawned, or given away?

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace