Long Nightdress Poems
Long Nightdress Poems. Below are the most popular long Nightdress by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nightdress poems by poem length and keyword.
When we first met,
you adored me,
from sunrise to sunset.
We would stay up all night,
infatuated like lovebirds
and I'm still wondering.... What went wrong.
When did you run out of things to say?
Over one million apologies later,
I'm still sorry.
I still remember your last goodbye,
How I begged you not to go.
I still don't know why you had to leave.
I'm broken from forgotten promises,
so I wonder is 'forever' just make believe?
I lay in a barren bed.
Your photo still sits on my bedside,
your nightdress in the closet,
I can't help but stare at them all the time.
I can still feel your kiss,
but there is so much more I miss,
your smile and your touch.
I still drink form your mug,
It reminds me without you there is only emptiness.
Your melody still lingers,
in the stillness of my existence
and I'm just numb,
from the pain of loneliness.
I know I write too many poems about you,
but it hurts that I am now nothing,
someone you don't want around,
but each word is a tear,
in each verse a breathless sigh.
You were the air keeping me alive.
Without you, this poetry seems pointless.
All the petals have lost their scent
and I'm still waiting for a rainbow,
to end this storm.
I wonder how long,
I will remain in this silence.
As life revolves, all I can hear
is that Glenn Hughes song,
forever echoing 'why don't you stay?'
Nobody observes her leaving her room
wearing just her nightdress and red felt carpet slippers
Shuffling silently she slips out of the front door onto the street
Rivulets of rain start to soak her to the skin
Her straggly hair hangs down limply
It becomes so matted and twisted
Soon it looks like writhing snakes are alive on her skull
Her once pretty face is now lined and wrinkled
Rain drips off the crevices and onto her sagging breasts
Wandering off into the night she begins searching
Walking the empty streets with her arms outstretched
Searching, searching, desperately searching
Eventually she reaches the children’s playground
Sitting on a swing she rocks backwards and forwards
The rhythmic movement seems to calm her down
Tears form in her eyes and mingle with the raindrops
Strong arms hold her and she is powerless to resist
She hears voices telling her she must return home
‘We knew you’d eventually find your way here Maisie
It’s time to return to the sanatorium …
In future we will make sure the door alarm is activated’
10~19~15
N/A in previous contest
Submitted to screwed XI
Sponsored by Rob Carmack
Sponsor Nathan D
Title amended and submitted to ''P'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest sponsored by Constance La France
Sleepless
Nights
Drifting
In and
Out
and
I realize
that
I've
Lost myself
Inside
This house
My
home
with
Glass walls
and
darkened windows
Ne'er letting the light in
Trying
to
find
an escape
and
In
This dreamlike
State
I
find myself walking
Through the halls
I once knew
My
feet
Throb from
the tingling sensation of
numbness that only
the
Cold Glass floor can bring
My
Nightdress
ghost like in appearence
flutters
in
the
wind
as
glacial temperatures
drop
and
My
breath
becoming visible
like tufts of
Clouds
Eerie
it seems
that no one can
hear my cries
and
the
walls
White
as
Angel Wings
Glow
in the Darkness of
the
midst of
this
confusion
And
TIME
SEEMS
To
Crawl
To
CRAWL
TO
CRAWL
Drowsily
I
continue
my
quest
Almost
Methodical
In my Deliberation
To
seek
out
the mythical creature
that once was
Laura
Amidst
the moment before I was.... something... something to behold
FULL
of
FEROCITY and LIFE
and Now
Shivering
in the dark of night
in
my neglicee
Spellbound
Searching
for who I have become
chasing
the bunny through the rabbit hole
peering around the corner
only
to
have
gotten
Lost
further
in
this maze
Glass Houses were meant to be brought down
Form:
From when we leave the womb, said Freud (or Jung),
until the day we die, life's one long try
to climb back in. That cold air hits our lungs
with such a shock, we cannot help but cry.
Her name was Pina. She could twirl her skirt
impressively. One evening, home alone,
twirling her nylon nightdress, unalert,
she caught the flames. That fireplace was a zone
forbidden her, but how could she resist
the warmth and light the gaping chasm offered?
The fabric wrinkled, melted, shriveled, hissed
and bunched between her thighs. She must have suffered.
A young, bewildered altar boy back then,
I watched her mother rage and rail and rave,
unhinged by grief. It took six burly men
to hold her back from leaping in the grave.
It's a wonder young children still turn out all right
With the stuff that gets crammed in their heads every night.
Things like visions of sugar plum fairies and sprites,
Or a thousand tales of Arabian delights,
A frog who turns prince with a kiss from a lass,
A girl who goes dancing in slippers of glass,
A cow that gets high and jumps over the moon,
A crockery dish that elopes with a spoon,
A boy who can fly but refuses to grow,
A difficult girl who plants maids in a row,
A magician who wants to trade old lamps for new,
A woman so poor she must live in a shoe,
A waif who sells matches out in the cold,
A king who can touch things and turn them to gold,
A dog, an old woman, a cupboard that's bare,
A girl locked in a tower, a ladder of hair,
A magical wheel that spins gold out of straw,
A guy helps a lion with a thorn in its paw,
A girl wearing red visits grandma who's resting,
Finds a wolf in her nightdress and Granny digesting,
Three kids and a wardrobe, three men share a tub,
A brave tailor kills seven mean flies with a club,
An archer makes merry with men in the woods
While relieving the rich of their money and goods,
Kind huntsman, fair princess, a vain evil queen,
Seven dwarves, and a prince who gets caught in between,
Hateful fairy, a baby, a hundred-year snit
'cause her name's accidentally left off a guest list,
A piper who lures out of town rodent varmints,
An emperor with new but invisible garments,
A farmer's wife butchers three handicapped mice,
A house drops on top of a witch who's not nice,
While another with gingerbread children seduces
Then gets baked by some twins in her own savory juices,
A giant and a beanstalk, a cat who wears boots,
A wolf who's outfoxed by three pigs in cahoots,
A bad little boy who sticks fingers in pies,
And another of wood whose nose grows when he lies.
There are others, of course, far too many to mention,
But I hope these will serve to excite some attention.
With stories like these knocking 'round in their heads,
It's no wonder if kids toss and turn in their beds.
Yet throughout countless ages these stories survive,
Kids listen, and dream them, and still wake up alive,
No worse for having been charmed or affrighted,
Imaginations are stoked, little minds are ignited,
And continue to hold them in dear veneration
As they pass them along to the next generation.
In the garden of time
I weave and wait
————
Sleepwalking dreams
draping tendrils of light,
spread from the moon
to move through the night
In a flowing nightdress
the dear faeries had made,
from sage and silver
that never will fade
Eternally I’m winding
to the curve of the tip
with tail wrapped round
See my smile from the ship
And If I should fall
and fly to the ground,
as wings reach to sweep
love will layer all around
My whispering wind
I’ll send,to ease your pain
and the warmth of the earth
will provide a barrier to rain
And as a thirst for life
turns your mouth to dust,
a cascade of wonder
will shower as lust
As leaves of sorrow
shadow our eyes,
I will stroke your hand
as light dims outside
As joy lights your world
and wreathes you in smiles,
my arms will reach out
across all the miles
All presence has gone
but I’ll still be here,
as an essence of life
that held you all dear
————
At the fountain of love
Raise a glass to faith
Form:
The girl of my dreams
I met one night
Her beauty captured
This Highland Knight
Its been a month
And i am so absorbed
To be with her
On natures orb
Then one night
As we lay in bed
A strange feeling
Runs through my head
The previous night
She stayed out late
Not getting home
As i lie awake
A pattern showed
On various nights
She never came home
Until near light
In wanting to know
One darkened night
In following her
Keeping out of site
Clearing ahead
Brightened sky
Was that a howl
Or a dogs cry
Shrubbery clearing
As my eyes did see
The girl of my dreams
Standing over me
Her white nightdress
Blackened and stained
Droplets of red
Unexplained
I reach out to touch
As she pulls away
Her body changing
In every way
Her long golden hair
Now grainy Gray
Her looks resembling
In a wolf-en way
Transformed in all
Into the night, she heads
The very next day
Deadened red
In sorrow torn
My heart decides
To rid this world
Of her wolf-en side
Gunsmith called
Silver required
Bullets made
Revolver acquired
The very next night
Shrubbery clearing
Quickened steps
Wolf-en nearing
Up i stand
As she growls at me
Her teeth bloodied
Saliva streams
In one massive leap
She makes for me
As i draw my gun
And fire three
In whimpering howl
To the ground she falls
Whimpering silenced
Her very last call
The girl of my dreams
I met one night
This changing beauty
I killed tonight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy2.php
The family had just moved into an old castle in Scotland;
mother, father and their only daughter, Emmie, that they loved so deeply.
Emmie was only 12 years old, and so innocent and beautiful.
One night, she was woken up by a dripping sound;
an echoing sound of water drops in a sink;
rhythmic and terrifying.
She sat on her bed, and suddenly appeared a free floating arc of strange light.
It's that time of year again: Halloween night.
Doors flew open and shut; strange voices and footsteps started.
She was so frightened, that she almost threw up.
Emmie made the sign of the cross, and plunged into a thicket of thorny wild roses.
Terrified, excited and ready to run out of the house in 20 seconds,
she overheard whispering words: "All beauty must die."
The voice was so deathly, that it sent chills through her spine.
It did not make it any better that it sounded too close to her ears.
Her nightdress being torn by rose thorns like papers in a paper shredder,
she ran as fast as she could; not back to the old castle,
but away from the creepy voice, and strange events
in the old castle.
Exhausted, she searched for a place she could find rest
"All beauty must die" the voice visited
her unceremoniously once more. "What do you want from me?
Is it wrong to be born beautiful? "
she asked, wondering where she got her courage from.
The energy to scream or run departed her,
the moment she saw a woman dressed in white,
levitating in the air, and moving towards her;
a horrid face that carried the night's darkness,
looked decayed, with worms crawling out from it.
Remember this is a true story about Emmie;
she gets chills just remembering the events of that night……
Contest: Halloween Co-Writes, By Diane Locksley
Poem Written by: Teddy Kimathi and Anne-Lise Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
A Candy Storefront window, a passerby pauses briefly at the array of heart-shaped enwrapped in velvet reds, filled with sweet treats like years before. The same tricks deployed as the byway take point passing a park. Then a heaven-sent gift the gentle walker, drifts a spun floater being a dove's solitaire wing. A hand reaches down and gathers it up in mental discourse. In brevity breathes deeply, and exhales soothingly. Contented, the gentle walker heads back to town, where an empty crimson velour box is bought, he makes one more stop before heading back home with a frozen smile. Amidst the expected backdrop scene where two fluted glasses filled with Dom Perignon Champagne atop a white-silk-covered small round table that graces two silver candle holders, pre-lit. The significant other donning a maroon single-piece nightdress is presented a box. He sits as she opens the box and oddly looks. As he explains his day's escapade freed him from the rigamarole being rhetorical, he lastly gifts her with a smaller box. She opens built-up with a hint of suspense that shreds away to tears. She looks up to the penitent soul while holding a solitaire diamond ring.
On the edge of silence
beyond mossy-muffled stone walls
a wind chime chants—faint
like falling sparkles of stars;
honeyed musings
of a wind-spirit on the move,
west to east
a bridge of broken chords.
Cosmic animation
stirs my domestic pulsation.
In a supple sweep
from beyond the western dusk,
soft notes jangle in sweet saunter—
so like you,
an angel’s riff on an airy whiff.
O wind chanter,
I hear your chimes
as I linger
in undying love for him
…yes
I hear you, singer!
Sing to me of his approach!
For alone,
on the cold stone of a lifeless dusk,
I mourn the most.
Like a moth vibrating
around the lantern’s glow,
I feel the brush of his touch
amid breezy flutters;
flirtations
with a long blonde tress
and the white frills
of my nightdress.
O bittersweet enchantment!
O wild yet tender wind—O embracing visitor!
But how do I hold you?
How do I hold the wind, my love?
Always! Always!
You slip away
on blank paper wings!
My human nature aspires to fly
but my every heartbeat; rib-caged.
Ironclad in mortal armor.
Obliged to the grasp of gravity’s greed.
Damn the bane of my spirit’s capture
and love’s coupled yoke
that did not die with you!
Damn the bane of my lifeblood
bound to its artery stream bed!
Though my lovelorn river
pulses with throbs of a tide robbed
not even a river’s rapture
can compete with the thrills
of your unbound freedom—
oh death’s freedom!
The ringing sleigh-bell singing
of spring peepers intrudes
O wind chanter, distant wind chime,
your tinsel talk fades.
He is lost to me again—
Lost!
Lost
lost….