Long New moon Poems
Long New moon Poems. Below are the most popular long New moon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long New moon poems by poem length and keyword.
The elegant thoughts of a precious mind the computational formula of a wicked demise.
Conceptual seires of theories a conspiracy to seduce persuasive succulent poetry.
Wicked mistress of promiscuous thoughts succulent dreams aromas of fresh gratuities a blurring of mixtures to blended abstracts.
Funnels draining the gravity of intellectual force to persuade a complete set of cycling ways to convey. The Amoure of flashing movies pictured all in the thought whispering speeds of domesticating breeds many ways a heart bleeds. Bundles of delightful Joys the taste of blissful, many ways eye's see to conceive the thought.
The almonds of joy roasted to enjoy conceptual way of a thinking blinking fast ways of thoughts. Orchestra's of notes orchestrated instruments of Beethoven's musical symphonies. Genie in a bottle unleashing the mysterious, unveiling imaginative ways of cultivating the seeded flower to bloom.
Enduring the elegants of an elite Romance rhythm of a Romans aroma's to inhale changing the taste of eloquence.
The artist works mending fears transducing hours to love live love with the sweat of fears8.
Rome's architectural wonder the protects precise sculpture of a wordsmiths glamour. Struts the catwalk with a book 2 premiere, lives on set, broadcasting his heart to revere.
Prince's of prancnig dressing rooms, Broadway St of dramatic dramas, elterically shocking emotions paints new moon phases, mixture of Picasso's colors a dramatization of pain seats the audience.
Photographer of a pictured humanity, colors rainbows of negativity with brilliant prisms.
A King to lion's spiritual pride brilliance of a star, rearrange the theater's of studed premieres, lives with sentiments of love's lifetime unconditionally the greatest of philosophy.
Unique elegance of sun setting romance blinding the artist of a premiering wedding, preaching the marriage of universal energy.
Rays of hope displaying poetry of wholehearted hearted beauty.
The statue of persuasive values premiering spiritually harmonies the elegance of mankind.. Energies of unleashed imaginations dreaming of pots of gold, loving the insecurities of the worlds diversity walks the testimony of £ove.
?U N I V € R S € ?
{INT€R CONN€T€D}
°O ? N S € £ F°
Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
?#poet #poetry #poem ?
What’s left of Octavia glides down the hall
Past the portraits she painted in life,
Now framed in mahogany, rosewood, and oak,
And they’re hers for the haunting tonight.
She looks for the canvas she started the day
Her desire became indiscrete;
A nude on a balcony under the moon.
It was one she would never complete.
What’s left of Octavia passes the wall
Where her art is the featured display,
Recalling advances she made in the past
That went far beyond being risqué.
She goes to the window and conjures the scene
As it happened those long years before,
And thinks of the model who posed for her then;
A temptation too ripe to ignore.
What’s left of Octavia mourns what she’s lost
Like a dreamer deprived of her dream.
Her husband threw open the studio door
To discover her subject and theme.
He looked at the model, he looked at his wife,
And he saw what a fool he had been
To blindly indulge her artistic pursuits,
Which she took as occasion to sin.
A new moon at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
And she’s out on a haunting tonight.
What’s left of Octavia longs for the time
She felt anything other than numb.
The smell of the paint and the feel of the brush
Being foreign to what she’s become.
A specter deprived of the flavor of life.
An obsession that won’t fade away.
A monochrome canvas, a faintly drawn sketch
From a palette with ten shades of gray.
What’s left of Octavia stands on the ledge,
And considers the landscape below.
The moment of impact still fresh in her mind,
Because time has not softened the blow.
Her family gathered to lay her to rest,
And the ring was removed from her hand.
Though people would gossip, and ponder her fate,
There are none who in truth understand.
What’s left of Octavia comes to him now,
Late at night when he puts on her ring.
A family heirloom entrusted to him
When he married his lover last spring.
He stands in the dark as she enters the room,
And the séance is set to begin.
She watches him pose, while he takes off his clothes,
With her brushstrokes caressing his skin.
Confessions at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
But he's hers for the haunting tonight.
Next of Kin
She had never been taught the trick.
To the men such things were granted.
Air filled pelts, breath under water.
To the women was left the nest.
Near ashore she saw them panic.
Her father among them scrambling.
All overboard clutching bubbles.
With chilled heart she waded in deep.
The river rose swift over head,
but what could one see inside it?
Living shadow, curious beings.
Frightened hands did lose the surface.
Writhing desperate seeking soul,
chest bursting, inflamed with fate,
she ceased to struggle, resigning.
No more sound but mothers calling.
They heft her aboard grins forming.
Quaking limbs of wet ebony,
the Nile had delivered a jewel.
An able kick freed the water.
Eyes tight, she curled as a fetus.
Then covered with appraising hands,
in lustful chorus of strokes and jeers,
Insistent prods displayed her gifts.
A fine catch fit for the priming.
But pleasing to God, It ends there.
A word of one voice repelled them.
This voice offered hands that cradled,
and kiss moist cloth to cover dried eyes
stung red from the strain of dying.
Twice saved, survival's heart still pounds.
Her health did come in one new moon.
Put to task she oiled the wood planks.
Always watching that merry one.
Who, tending others as herself
with whispers in the others tongue,
so wild of hair and lengthily,
seemed a contradicting body.
For crew, song, frolic, constant talk;
for hers, hymns of healing murmured.
And for the newly captured prey
she talked away the crude of mind.
Why they obeyed one such as I?,
was wondered on that rolling barge.
She learned the trick and many more,
through moon and stars and sun down gold.
Schooled by her sister half in blood,
they blew new life into cub skins.
They tied them to the men waist round,
who dove in long to find lost spoils.
In want of that sustaining breath,
they pulled from bubbles left afloat.
My father's home - she’d smile at ease
when eve they rest hid from the sun.
That merry one in silence waits,
for the land is scrolling by now.
Her serenades now prayerful sighs,
as they’re rowing out for dealing.
Strong ordered hands do sever them.
Half in blood, they’d stood together.
Her eyes were full of want to tell,
but the living tells it better
Amazing Animals in Art
Next of Kin
She had never been taught the trick.
To the men such things were granted.
Air filled pelts, breath under water.
To the women was left the nest.
Near ashore she saw them panic.
Her father among them scrambling.
All overboard clutching bubbles.
With chilled heart she waded in deep.
The river rose swift over head,
but what could one see inside it?
Living shadow, curious beings.
Frightened hands did lose the surface.
Writhing desperate seeking soul,
chest bursting, inflamed with fate,
she ceased to struggle, resigning.
No more sound but mothers calling.
They heft her aboard grins forming.
Quaking limbs of wet ebony,
the Nile had delivered a jewel.
An able kick freed the water.
Eyes tight, she curled as a fetus.
Then covered with appraising hands,
in lustful chorus of strokes and jeers,
Insistent prods displayed her gifts.
A fine catch fit for the priming.
But pleasing to God, It ends there.
A word of one voice repelled them.
This voice offered hands that cradled,
and kiss moist cloth to cover dried eyes
stung red from the strain of dying.
Twice saved, survival's heart still pounds.
Her health did come in one new moon.
Put to task she oiled the wood planks.
Always watching that merry one.
Who, tending others as herself
with whispers in the others tongue,
so wild of hair and lengthily,
seemed a contradicting body.
For crew, song, frolic, constant talk;
for hers, hymns of healing murmured.
And for the newly captured prey
she talked away the crude of mind.
Why they obeyed one such as I?,
was wondered on that rolling barge.
She learned the trick and many more,
through moon and stars and sun down gold.
Schooled by her sister half in blood,
they blew new life into cub skins.
They tied them to the men waist round,
who dove in long to find lost spoils.
In want of that sustaining breath,
they pulled from bubbles left afloat.
My father's home - she’d smile at ease
when eve they rest hid from the sun.
That merry one in silence waits,
for the land is scrolling by now.
Her serenades now prayerful sighs,
as they’re rowing out for dealing.
Strong ordered hands do sever them.
Half in blood, they’d stood together.
Her eyes were full of want to tell,
but the living tells it better
Amazing Animals in Art
Next of Kin
She had never been taught the trick.
To the men such things were granted.
Air filled pelts, breath under water.
To the women was left the nest.
Near ashore she saw them panic.
Her father among them scrambling.
All overboard clutching bubbles.
With chilled heart she waded in deep.
The river rose swift over head,
but what could one see inside it?
Living shadow, curious beings.
Frightened hands did lose the surface.
Writhing desperate seeking soul,
chest bursting, inflamed with fate,
she ceased to struggle, resigning.
No more sound but mothers calling.
They heft her aboard grins forming.
Quaking limbs of wet ebony,
the Nile had delivered a jewel.
An able kick freed the water.
Eyes tight, she curled as a fetus.
Then covered with appraising hands,
in lustful chorus of strokes and jeers,
Insistent prods displayed her gifts.
A fine catch fit for the priming.
But pleasing to God, It ends there.
A word of one voice repelled them.
This voice offered hands that cradled,
and kiss moist cloth to cover dried eyes
stung red from the strain of dying.
Twice saved, survival's heart still pounds.
Her health did come in one new moon.
Put to task she oiled the wood planks.
Always watching that merry one.
Who, tending others as herself
with whispers in the others tongue,
so wild of hair and lengthily,
seemed a contradicting body.
For crew, song, frolic, constant talk;
for hers, hymns of healing murmured.
And for the newly captured prey
she talked away the crude of mind.
Why they obeyed one such as I?,
was wondered on that rolling barge.
She learned the trick and many more,
through moon and stars and sun down gold.
Schooled by her sister half in blood,
they blew new life into cub skins.
They tied them to the men waist round,
who dove in long to find lost spoils.
In want of that sustaining breath,
they pulled from bubbles left afloat.
My father's home - she’d smile at ease
when eve they rest hid from the sun.
That merry one in silence waits,
for the land is scrolling by now.
Her serenades now prayerful sighs,
as they’re rowing out for dealing.
Strong ordered hands do sever them.
Half in blood, they’d stood together.
Her eyes were full of want to tell,
but the living tells it better
Amazing Animals in Art
Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
In the shadow of the night, when the wind weaves endless spells,
There you stand, eternal rock, at war with time itself.
The night, with its new moon voice, whispers to you its secrets,
And you, living stone, clench your soul in the citadel of mystery.
Dawn brings you serenades from the infinite, hails you undefeated,
Watching as the universe regains its voice,
In the dialogue of the wind, in the celestial solstices,
You hide your soul, a relic, in a smile stolen from unbound times.
From the depths, the past measures you with ash-filled gazes,
Holding within memories sealed in ancestral oblivion,
You remember how you unleashed dreams, letting the music of your heart reign,
And you rest your forehead in the palm of eternity, dressing in the garment of silence.
Listening to the whisper of the cold seasons,
Your fingers open the frozen chest of your ancient pain.
Your soul, caught between two worlds, in crystalline silence,
Counts your heart's steps on the thin path of time,
Turning your gaze upon yourself, seeking in the mirror of the present,
Examining your eyes, lost among the leaves of time.
The wind interweaves its song with your being,
You are the rock in the face of the storm, the stone in the temple of the night,
Dawn kisses your existence with promises of strength,
You are the power, carved in the heart of the world.
With your hand, you capture the wind, hold onto the rock of fate,
Turn yearning into beads of dew,
Seal the pain in the stone heart, crown it with oblivion,
Embrace the infinite, bind your soul to the sky,
Tie spring to your footsteps, lighting your path,
And you walk the road of life, weaving a song of freedom with your smile.
In the magic of the night, you rise, an unyielding rock,
In the embrace of silence, you are an unsolved sphinx,
And as dawn spills its light, you take on its courageous song,
Living statue, in a story where each step becomes mystical.
The wind becomes your companion, lighting the candles of hope,
You hide in stone an eternal fire, a trap for forgetting.
In your hands, you mold eternity,
And your heart, a tall tree, embraces the sky in rare harmony.
Thus, on the paths of life, fearless, with spring beneath your bare feet,
You step to the rhythm of an everlasting song, in a world where every moment is magical.
I AM EVER - WRONG
.........................
COPYRIGHT-POETESS-MRS. ANJALI DENANDEE,MOM
............................................................................................
i am ever wrong............
i sing my life's song...
in front of the dead body........
i am ever wrong.........
i want to see ..........
the sun...........
at mid night...........
i am ever wrong......
i want to see the north star............
at mid noon............
i am ever wrong..........
i want to see the full moon.....
at the new moon.....at night.........
i am ever wrong..........
i want to hear....
the laugh of the happiness..........
just after new born baby's mouth-toothless.........
not the crying..............
i am ever wrong.......
i trying and trying .......
to stop the death...
.......... of the living body........
i am ever wrong............
i like to listen.......
the recitations .....
of the dumb's mouth.................
i am ever wrong.....
i chant in front of the deaf.........
i am ever wrong.....
i show the mirror .......
.....in front of the blind..........
under the rays-shined……………
i am ever wrong.....
i pray..........
....to the nature,.........’’ hey ! ……..
kindly ! end , the tears of the humans ‘’.........
i am ever wrong.......
so i find and find.........
……by my foolish-mind………
.......the love in the endless universe...........
I am ever wrong……….
why ? because , I reach to the destiny ……..
of the successes-ways……….
I am ever wrong…….
yes………I want to change the rhythms of the heart……..
which is in my rib cage……..
I am ever wrong…..
I again and again…….
try to control my eyes……
please ! don’t close…….not shut……
be the ever open…..
at living body………
do not blink……at awaken times………
when I arise…….
and also do not close at sleeping times………
I am ever wrong………..
though I know I will meet with my death……….
and forever will stop my movements……..
yet I continue …… my breathings ,…….
…… always…….
……..un-necessarily………
………..freely………………..
I am ever wrong…………
to hold my age forever at stage of young………..
I am ever wrong……
I take birth ……..
……..again and again….
on this painful-earth…….
I am ever wrong…..
I waste my times for dreaming………
and request to the time ,……..
‘’ don’t go ahead ! ‘’………………………….
Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory,
Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea.
Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit;
Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence.
Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together!
Like allurng, violet future, that recalls moments in lush, green heather.
Scarlet summer was all in a fever, as faceted friends called, flustered;
Passing fields of fabled enchantment, where silky, lilac wind muttered.
Faces of family came in dreams, and in person, on the Fridays of fairs;
Full of food, games and fun activities, like colored, hopscotch squares.
Mary lived in the house of butterflies, forever peeking at the windows;
Offering the frequent flashes of color, like every shade of the primrose.
Saturdays wore its smiles, on Mary's street of pretty robins screeching;
Where blue dragonflies were dancing, and chirpy crickets had meetings.
Owls stared wide-eyed fascination, as neighbors came, one with night;
In the company of nostalgic, new moon, like velvet under the spotlight.
'Mangave mission to Mars' lifted off, when the 'corpse flowers' lay dying;
And 'grow anywhere' trees sprang hither and yon, without halfway trying.
During storms of 'dahlias electric flash,' or dark nights of 'showy lanterns,'
'Rose feather' blooms took the spotlight, while secrets hid in blue caverns.
As Andrew was crossing a bridge one sunny day, a large chunk of it fell,
Breaking the car's blue windshield! How he escaped harm, none can tell.
Andrew sent Mary an emergency message, apprising her of grave danger;
And she notified the right departments, within moments. Anxiety changer!
The bridge was capably repaired, due to the action of Andrew's first lady;
Like midnight of mimosa fragrance, giving raptures to areas grown shady!
'London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
Build It Up With Bricks of Shaw,
Bricks So Sure,
Bricks So Sure,
Build It Up With Bricks of Shaw,
My Fair Lady.
It Will Stand For Ever More,
Ever More,
Ever More,
It Will Stand For Ever More,
My Fair Lady.'
New Moon new, new tune
It’s a lovely afternoon
New broom sweeping the town
And spiritual cleansing is scattered all around
The wind is blowing lightly
And the race is running politely
The crowd is out once more
And people are cruising from door to door
A balance crown, a balance gown
The message is circulating around
Sending shock wave all over the town
The women are out in great force
They have just handed in their final divorce
With girted skirts and bodies well assembled
They were determined to end the tumultuous dirt
The Christmas came with a silent storm
And woke me up just before dawn
Spilling water all over the lawn
Soaking rain and complaining men
Too many of them occupied the street
The screaming and the shouting
The cussing and the fighting
They are trying to get out of the bull pen
But they angered the Gods and water suddenly
Came thundering in from heaven
Goods start floating in the street
And their sales were incomplete
A watery Christmas with cuss, cuss
Caused baby Jesus to fuss
Mary rock him gentle in the cradle
And he smiled gentle, and said he is able
The women are out in droves
They are getting ready to shout
The unruly band, the clownish man
But the women were determined to have the upper hand
I have been thinking hard and long
Waiting patiently to sing a new song
New rhythm, new beat
And a brand new shoes on my weary feet
The tide is rolling along, and the minstrel is
getting ready to march with the big band
Everyone lined up to pay their last respect
To a dying man gasping for breath
A sad moment for the throne
And a happy moment for the bluestone
The show is rolling along
and heart of destiny is scattered all over the land
Achilles heel are bruised and his mind is confused
His eyes are growing dim
and blood vessel is full to the brim
The devil is winking his eyes,
And many people start to cry
The heavens is a witness to his occupation
That has caused much confusion in heaven
The Angels could not adore it
And they could not tolerate it
So the God’s made the final decree
And boo the devil straight out of heaven
I think about it deeply
And absorb it completely
The devil is fighting for his life
But the Angels cannot comply.