Long Nocturnal Poems
Long Nocturnal Poems. Below are the most popular long Nocturnal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nocturnal poems by poem length and keyword.
its threadbare blanket taints the sunset
masking the eyes of evenings predators
slowing the pace of the days heartbeat
holding in its grasp a troubled darkness
soft-petaled flowers warily close their eyes
seeking the solace of denial
tree top chatter ceases – acquiesces
to the dwindling warmth of presence
dusk, a lie told to eager believers
yellow eyed hermits blinking in the tall grass
creeping into the no man’s land of darkness
tongues and whiskers test nocturnal skills
howls and squeals of darkness in the darkness
as the gloaming drops its quilt upon the night
©7/18/2018
for Dusk or Dawn – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Emile Pinet
A torn tale ere was sewn b' time's tool;
''f haggard hemisphere 'n' nocturnal nude,
'n which porous promiscuity 's oft draped -
furred fabrics, scales embroidery.
This tale 'n which cursed clothing was hexed;
porous past oozing sassy spell.
Makes marred maidens scarce behove laud,
but fractured flaunts cum odds grilled galls.
Tell those who 'gain sew this torn tale,
that nosy needle anon 'll break,
'n' sewn sanity would foster pawn
''f bruised beauties, gaunt graces 'n' plagued pores.
Let throbbing themes ''f this taunting tale
'n' wools ''f sewn silk canvas wits, fame 'n' shame.
'20:07:23:13:41
Note:
a) Of fractured fashion.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Ere - before
ii) oft - often
iii) Hexed - cast spell
iv) behove - suit
v) cum - and
vi) galls - biles
vii) anon - soon
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) b' - by
ii) "f - of
iii) 'n' - and
iv) 'n - in
v) 's - is
vi) 'll - will
Tonight, the dark sky again
only slept a short while;
no longer eager to cheat
its sun’s awakening joy
over the horizon’s realm;
Bulky white yawning clouds
hovered over the night-shaded
ground below as small nocturnal
creatures seemingly scurried into
and out of the dawning day;
A dawning day during which
we shall seek to see justice
and peace become realities
in a world wrought with chilled
fear and misery:
May new spreading sunshine
sweeps away waning darkness of winter as
flowering hope again welcomes a new spring
toward resurrected liberation and equity:-
I watch the sun grow dim,
as it passes through the sky.
Glowing rays start to fade away.
Dipping its beams over the ocean.
Sinking down into its watery depths.
The day now turns to dusk.
Slowly the moon peeks out,
casting earth with silvery light.
Stars blaze in full glory.
Now the nocturnal beings appearing.
Rustling noises emerge from undergrowth.
Owls can be heard,
their hoots ringing out.
A whoosh of wings,
as they sweep by.
Innoxiously night passes.
Dawn creeps in.
Chasing shadows away.
Sun rises,
dawn becomes
Day.
Written 10/14/2014
contest The "I Do Not Know" Poetry Form Contest - Poetry Contest
Form:
Snapdragons (edit)
One is a serpent on the wing, the other a butterfly.
Each belongs to species created from
tissue paper, water, and light.
When half-awake I can hear the droning
of their nocturnal flights,
amber engines rattle cut-glass hangers
as they lift off to carpet bomb our dreams.
Some are more wolf than dragon,
they form packs of loup-garou,
and snap at the heavy-handed
and too fleshy fingered florists.
Those not employed in directing
disbelievers toward dragon lore
retire to flower as urban myths,
their chiffon wings and origami faces
masking many a peppery passion.
He returned to his quite recent creation
Just to make check on the current situation.
Tigrons slid in from the plains to lie at their ease
Away from midday sun under those singing trees,
Stretching lazily leisurely showing razored claw
In unconscious reminder of nature in the raw.
The ko-ko-ko birds still made their daily run
Fast blonde flashes in that pulsing square sun;
The fleecy white clouds made the long grass wet
Releasing their loads on that very second preset.
The singing trees moved and swayed
In the breeze that quite gently played
And filled the air with their song
That played and replayed all day long.
And in their Eden Garden the Adam and the Eve,
Still naked in their ignorance, made him believe
That maybe this time this world could be free
From the bondage of that wild knowledge tree.
As the sky filled with that square white moon
The singing trees changed to their nocturnal tune
And under that gentle white light
This world slipped slowly into night.
He noted down his next time of review
And with a small sigh quickly withdrew.
Day along, the mighty sun has been shining.
Toward a huge mountain, she has been moving;
Having made her bed, she disappears to sleep.
The sun’s death triggers lots of defeats;
All birds into branches of trees, she flings.
They chirp for protection, and thank their God.
On knees, they beg shield against nocturnal perils.
In a silent world, the wind has soothed all around;
Noise and light exist nowhere, like in a graveyard.
From afar, I can see a yellow nimble of hope;
The mighty light is shattering the darkness to let
Birds fly out of trees to meet and enjoy the sunlight.
A new enthusiasm has awakened a fresh life’s adventure.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Penny Lane is dead
They all said
Took her out back
Gave the Aussie a shovel attack
Later shots were heard
Witnessed only by the nocturnal birds
Observing the murder go down
After bullets made the deadly sound
Companions who party
Should be a little more smarty
Since someone could drug the cupcakes
Served by the friendly fake
When she was baked
But true love
Watching from above
Saw the couple
Facing trouble
Working together
Fighting the hatred weather
Brought Penny Lane back
Who suffered a shovel attack
Now alive
Penny Lane grabbed the cycle wings ride
Big girls they did sing
Knowing one thing
They evened the score
Winning the war
Despite wearing facial gore
Penny Lane next time you meet
Enjoy the celebration sweets
With a true mate
A holiday worthy date
Especially when you both defend
Not needing any blokey men
Freedom ~ an inked kingdom
of macabre mirrors,
a vermiform lie
veiling the vehement suffering
amidst serpent estuaries,
surging within strangled skin,
as if I am the living sin,
jinxed by the crawling creatures
in the lamented labyrinth
of deceitful dreams,
inhaling venomous vapors
rising from the cursed creeks
that failed to caress
the brittle bones of delirious dawn,
where the nocturnal owl
sits, phasing stellar phantoms
on tattered twigs,
oblivious to the piercing pain I breathe,
as poetry feels like
a somatic hallucination,
a reflection of the phoenix crescent,
a dialect the naive can never comprehend,
the voice of truth,
the jaded outline of mortality,
can never interpret~
as the last sacred light of twilight
r e m a i n s
unmarked and lost to the Earth.
O wicked wind beneath
the crestfallen wings
of cruising constellations,
will this piece of paper save me
from the maleficent violets
in the spitfire blaze
of stigmatized stars?
I am stuck ~ hell-bound,
troubled placing my
tongue on Freyja’s chalice of tears,
for I feel oblivion closer than death,
I taste the flames of Tartarus,
I dance with demons,
I sing to the malevolent moon,
I see in distorted dimensions.
But would the ignorant know
I hear beyond what’s spoken,
in search of Eden and love?
I give gratitude to your God,
but the veiled care not~
this is beyond the making
of a self-forged inferno.
I am the harbinger of harmony,
my soul aches
to paint your scarlet spheres
in butterfly bliss,
praying in secret
that the deviant daggers in my spine
would blossom into russet roses,
their petals ~ like an elixir
to my paranoid psyche,
paralyzed in the
catacomb chaos of insanity,
as the scorpion Sun
k i s s e s
me one more time
with sweetened poison.
While you,
the spectators of this twisted spectacle,
condemn my insomniac aura
to stain the essence of my existence
with condescending colors,
unaware that
introspection is a powerful weapon~
all blood is blue,
and we breathe hypocrisy
scrutinizing the unknown....
Life’s Ikat Weave
by Odin Roark
There was once another him
Oh he was the same flesh and bones
He even kept track of both his names
One for the stage
One for the IRS
That other him
The one that migrated
Leaving behind the stage of make-believe
Venturing across landscapes of real-life drama
Found that dramaturgy had taught him well
It was gradual
This departure from his norm
Everyday beginnings arose before dawn
Flicked its prickly tendrils across nocturnal escape
Awakening his senses free of alarm clocks
Elbows from a bed partner
Or wet lickings from a dog
And…
Something else was different on rising
Gazing out the window
Nothing but time he now owned
Put him at the ready to explore
Pre-dawn darkness with illumination
How much laughter and stories
He had to share
He was ready to run into
Rather away from
The promise to find out
Who he truly was
Thus streamed forth his ikat-life
A fabric of his past
Layers of experience
Tie-dyed patterns of what hopefully
Would become rainbow-threads of wisdom
A future-weave
Void of mistake’s knots
Another part
One revealing…