Long Obscurity Poems
Long Obscurity Poems. Below are the most popular long Obscurity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Obscurity poems by poem length and keyword.
A beach ball stuck in the rafters of the pool,
been there for many years in the oblivion cool.
It contains the breath of an unknown person,
in the blowing wind the spirit still lives on,
as the vestige of the gone lingers in the obscurity.
I’ve been in many places as an anonymous entity,
people have seen me but haven't known my identity.
On the instances of time I left the footprint
with relicts of fragmented me that still might glint,
although the owning light has disappeared.
In the twilight hour the shadows of my presence
I perceive enwrap the indelible essence
I left in those places where I never went back,
but they got etched in some mind’s track,
keeping them engraved unfaded.
If I meet some of them now passing me by
I’d like to ask who and what was I
in that moment of my life when our paths crossed,
when they got pieces of me on a forgotten day lost
that perpetuates in the time continuum.
I find happy people weave nostalgia tapestry
of the unforgotten with the threads of memory
as I do with strands of the past in times of retrospection,
stitching the pieces left to make the collage of the one
who existed there and then.
Children of the moment,
dust and vapor of time,
wearying their frame for passing filth.
in this land of the dying,
forgetting the endless eternity,
From the cry of the innocent,
to the paths of obscurity,
seeking routes through time,
The "haves"
the "havnots"
the longings and cravings for perishing things of clay,
Ambitions and dreams innumerable,
vigorous race and fascination for filthy lucre,
they run,
as though their frame were made of iron
and their sinews of brass,
forgetting the gates of death,
They acquire filth,
some call it gold,
they build,
they store, and die holding naught
Then come the endless eternity
The eternity of undying souls
Man! why slide unprepared?
All of which I hypocritically love and hate
Are the greatest guilty pleasures I enjoy too late...
All too often I refrain from the mediocrity of normalcy,
When really all I wish is to never fade to obscurity.
All of whom I hypocritically admire and despise,
Are always looking at me with those eyes...
So many suddenly becoming one step further ahead,
Leaving me thinking if only I could finally be dead.
All of which I hypocritically praise and critique
Are actually made up of what makes me unique.
There are times I get what I always wanted,
But then there are times I am left feeling haunted.
All of whom I hypocritically shun and embrace
Ever truly leave me without a trace...
For all these people and things in my life
Have taught me how to overcome my strife.
“. . .The blond assassin passes on.
The sun proceeds unmoved . . .”
( from "Apparently With No Surprise" by Emily Dickinson)
A blond assassin was he, but not quite the same as the one
personified by the poet Dickinson; her assassin was the frost.
Mine had a similar cool veneer and a masquerade of beauty.
His heart, though, was ebony, and his soul was black as coal.
I and those other women, whom I’m certain he could hypnotize
so easily with a mere glance of his eyes' crystal blue,
were like the happy flowers in Ms. Dickinson’s short poem.
His power, like the frost’s over the flowers,
was hardly accidental, for he oozed confidence and charm.
Through my high school years, my desire for him burned crimson.
I laid my heart open, while his own, opaque, was impossible to read.
As he grew more and more aloof, I knew I had to suture my sad heart.
But the real death came later when he smashed my soul into obscurity.
On seeing me at college, his blue eyes were as icy cold as glass
as right through me they sliced!
Oh, for the once so happy flower of my youth!
6/2/17 for Laura Loo's Write Me Something Deep and Dark Poetry Contest
The ten Words used for this poetry contest: ebony/ obscurity/ masquerade/ aloof/ death/ hypnotize/ suture/ veneer/ crimson/ opaque
It's been 9 days since I've posted in PS because of being needed by my sister. She's progressing, but very slowly. Thank you to those who've expressed your concern and offered prayers for her recovery. My granddaughter is over her crisis.
I've had little time or desire to peek into PS, but from what I've seen and been told, not only is AI rampant but plagiarism has returned. I ask you, poets... which do you consider to be the bigger offender?
A poet's voice will not be drowned out in obscurity
when from our conscience thoughts it is displayed.
But when the soup is riddled with AI cheating
and plagiarism, it's rancidly sour with impurities.
No surge of waves will stop a poet's ink from flowing
nor will gusting tempest winds cast their pens away.
It's the deep desire to write that all of us are owing
to the need of words seeking escape from the mind.
Those of us who write from heart and soul...
yes, that sounds like an overused cliche,' but AI
poetry is just a click away, written by machines
and plagiarists steal it from another source...
posting it as their own. It's demeaning to the Soup,
or as Jan would say, "It's nothing more than poop!"
I would like to think the community is worth saving
but I've seen no signs of that taking place.
Indifference is not the attitude anyone should take.
If the site matters, clean it up... for goodness sake.
Leave your thoughts in comments if you're craving
a say and I'll respond when I can from a hospital room.
None of us should take for granted a single day of life
or our family and friendships for we are not immune
to life threatening issues that always take precedence
over everything else beneath the glowing haloed moon.
Homeland long left, almost lost in obscurity,
beyond the ocean line on the horizon far,
the ancient mariner hopes to reach now,
sailing with the forlorn heart scorched,
return to where it yearns to be.
But the swelling surge of charcoal clouds
bursts on the wings of twirling tempest,
the sky falls with his broken dreams,
he drifts aimless with the wreckage
to distant golden shore unknown.
There on the sun-soaked luring trail
he begins a journey anew on
redefined contours of life,
waves of seven seas
remain unsailed.
November 9, 2020
Contest : All Yours (May 29)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
“Floating on prayer hymn the journey isn’t construed amiss,
it takes life through the stillness of soul to the bay of bliss.” – Quote by Poet
The unique landscape of life mesmerizing,
shrouded by the serene seclusion screen,
spreads the sensation of surreal stillness,
swathes me as I wander on my lonely journey.
The rippling breeze of spring beguiling,
captivates me with its charming cadence.
My essence roaming in the tranquility terrain,
gets suffused with the aura of rhapsody.
I walk on the fawn forest path meandering
through the shadow of the ancient trees,
shedding the wilted golden foliage of the fall
at the end of their verdant time.
My footsteps crumple the pile of leaves rustling,
making the morose music of aloneness
for my timeless journey within,
I am yet to finish.
At the sunset time trickling away unrelenting,
I saunter at the periphery of my livid landscape
toward the hazy horizon of obscurity,
to reach the eternal sanctum of serenity.
Flushed by the final flash of twilight tinge enthralling,
I am walking the last mile
on the remnant time-track to be traveled,
for the desolate journey in the domain of destiny.
________________
March 5, 2023
Word Chosen : Journey
Contest : Writing Challenge - "J" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
Pyre
Balancing on the razors edge; In-
all that gutters-in that cold ballet -
Of "before I bled."
My elixir of mangled string-theory,
Of hybrid sins and veiled shadowquery.
No. I need to stop this.
I need stealth and a golden beacon.
Something to be on my side
and lift a confident smile, out of
dormancy, or Necromancy.
To put my former things on a pyred shelf and revisit normalcy.
Is the killswitch-is the key.
Walk away as the explosion is slow
motion, purge of Purgatory npotions
pour in it's conscience of consciousness
like molasses down a crevace glistening
in the thick richness of purity. "Titans sinking in
the self's prideful enfirm,
conform confirmity of corrosions
apathetic obscurity,
into an epic sinking scene of Phoenix return,
from the Krakened deep."
I will surge from the waters
and take my first clumsy breaths,
a new born out of the darkness, no longer
in that undead paralysis,
but a crowning Stephanos of a Victor
surviving the drowning of the lost in a sea, of the great false sleep.
The spent submerging sun in my scarlet sky
Colors the time of my listless life passing slowly by
At the edge of the dark night my horizon waits
In the depth of black abyss.
In twilight hour the sky transforms to a collage of colors
Weaving for me the tapestry of the departing day
Behind the silver-lined charcoal clouds my stars hide
In the depth of black abyss.
The dust of despair drizzles on the darkened skyline
From the descending night veiling the ebony future
My murky mind wants to discover the lost dreams
In the depth of black abyss.
The fragile footprints fade in the threshold of ashen dusk
I’m walking the last mile in the inky shadow of obscurity
Hoping to see a new sunrise in sable horizon before I sink
In the depth of black abyss.
August 27, 2021
Contest : The Color Black
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
“The inner beacon flashes in the tempestuous ocean as
the escort in the divine course to the final destination” – By Poet
An ancient mariner in the ocean called life,
I am sailing solemnly seemingly for ages
in the limitless luminosity of the sunshine,
and in the drifting course where trying tempest rages.
On the sapphire swells of the swaying waves,
rising to the sky and falling to the trough low,
my senile boat pitches, and I struggle hard
to keep on sailing, the voyage is veritably slow.
The film of the moonless night falls silently
on the tossing surface of the ebony ocean.
As the skyline subsides with hope in the dark horizon,
what lies in obtrusive obscurity I’ve no notion.
I’ve promised the ocean I’ll reach the shore yonder,
I need to sail to the end of my time and far.
Forlorn in the unknown ocean losing the bearing,
I search for the omnipresent pole star.
I discover in the end the guiding beacon
of the divine light hidden within me.
Tracing the destined course to the final destination,
its flash I’ve been relentlessly striving so long to see.
The wind on the sagging sail is sluggish,
with its driving draft drained, it can no longer blow.
Before the boat becomes motionless,
to the land of promise I must go.
Waiting for me at the fated fringe of my time,
is the eternal realm of the heavenly shore.
I don’t know why even now
in the tormenting ocean I am for.
_________________
March 25, 2023
Word chosen : Ocean
Contest : Word Challenge - "O" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France