Long Outcropping Poems

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


Sorrow Drowns On Dry Land

Sorrow drowns on dry land 


Standing at a distance,
staring at staggered lines 
on a rock face outcropping
buried deep beneath 
an ancient rose garden

Corroded iron bars
chained and bolted,
left for dead as brittle petals
find a funnel cloud forming
and dance in a whirlwind mosaic

Disguised bold lettering
of forgotten fonts curl and peel 
as bark from a crying birch tree
waits for spring 
so it can start anew

Sunlight smears blue sky dreams 
in finger paint colors
designing the moment
in portraits of a heart – this heart
basking in your glow

And as your smile approaches
the earth rejoices, pine tree party hats,
hibiscus streamers wave
as a happy ending reigns
at the conclusion of this poem – 

with the deceptive title


The Oboist On the Hill

A lone man
Standing in a cold rock outcropping
Rain soaks him to the skin
He laments the world’s troubles
War, famine, disease and poverty
His soul feels the pain of everyone around him
A black oboe touches his lips
Playing a sad refrain
One that echoes through the valley below
Each note carries a woe
Away from him and into the world around
Into the clouds that float above
Taking them into the beauty of a rainbow
Thousands of people flock to the hill
Just to listen to this single man
His songs lift their spirits
For a moment
One brief moment
His songs allow them to smile
And for the moment
They are happy
All because of a lone oboist
Standing on a rock
Soaked by the spring rain

Premium Member Fire-Crackers

Firecracker - a paper or cardboard cylinder filled with an explosive and having a fuse, for discharging to make a noise.

Firethe Southern sergeant shouts to the boys behind him
In unison, we live or die together, light the fuse. The enemy
Rises up from behind a rocky outcropping  
Effectively blocking the allied advance. Shrapnel
Crescendos from the jeeps in the rear, cutting down 
Riflemen not killed instantly by the attack.
Another night passes, nightmares replay the 
Carnage of a war un-won, I see the bodies of friends
Killed in the name of God. Every dead man 
Earnestly left life not knowing if  
Right was truly in their
Side.
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member The Petal-Sprinkled Path Collaboration Contest With Probir Gupta

The Petal-Sprinkled Path 


The petal-sprinkled path 
We walked together
The lip-sharing math
In the cherry weather

We walked together
Time flew with lightning speed
In the cherry weather
Witnessed by the moss and weed

Time flew in lightning speed
We knitted the tales of lips
Witnessed by the moss and weed
Through an ocean moved the ships

We knitted the tales of lips 
Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there 
Through an ocean moved the ships
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears

Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there, 
Outcropping of pleasure, around, and through
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears
Audience veil, ardent scents, and blush dew

Outcropping of pleasure around and through
Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
Audience veil, ardent scent, and blush dew
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas

Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
The lip-sharing math
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas
The petal-sprinkled path

7/7/2017

 
COLLABORATION  with Probir Gupta
Poetry Contest: COLLABORATION CONTEST 
Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Pantoum

Collaboration Contest

COLLABORATION CONTEST

 
The Petal-Sprinkled Path
 


The petal-sprinkled path 
We walked together
The lip-sharing math
In the cherry weather

We walked together
Time flew with lightning speed
In the cherry weather
Witnessed by the moss and weed

Time flew in lightning speed
We knitted the tales of lips
Witnessed by the moss and weed
Through an ocean moved the ships

We knitted the tales of lips 
Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there 
Through an ocean moved the ships
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears

Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there, 
Outcropping of pleasure, around, and through
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears
Audience veil, ardent scents, and blush dew

Outcropping of pleasure around and through
Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
Audience veil, ardent scent, and blush dew
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas

Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
The lip-sharing math
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas
The petal-sprinkled path

7/7/2017

 

Poetry Contest: COLLABORATION CONTEST 
Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
Form: Pantoum


Thrones In the Woods, Or Catskill Kingdom

High up amidst a forest slope,
in bedding grounds where whitetails lope,
by ledges hidden from our eyes,
a quirky outcropping does lie.

Breaking a broadleaf canopy,
the scree-slope of an old quarry,
long ago Dibble cut blue-stone,
must be a century ago,

slab-sheets cut out with sweat and pain,
so much abandoned still remains…
But the hikers have had their fun,
make use of the work that was done,

First they built half-a-dozen walls,
some of them damn near six-feet tall,
like some medival castle large
once stood on this small mountain-scar.

Up above flat-stones circle ’round,
a spiral built into the ground,
like Celts got lost, ended up here,
or icy foes wished us to fear…

A little below sit four thrones,
tall, and built of stack-up stones,
from the top of the old quarry,
you perch, and many miles see:

Black vultures soar, looking to eat,
sniffing the winds for rotting meant,
a hawk flies by on thermal rise,
with sharp eyes rodents he espies.

To the east, the sheer gash of Platte Clove,
spattering of vacation homes,
a cliffside road, somewhat scary,
no guard-rails and turns quite hairy.

Some small meadows that once were farmed,
they still retain their rustic charm,
rounding form of the Catskill Peaks,
where vacationers long have seeked

a place to play and remain sane,
so what’s a better place to reign
then stone thrones under brilliant sun,
high up in our Catskill Kingdom.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Tragic Petals

Freely Asked And Wholly Answered
In Each Others Touch.
This As Much As More
And Never Less Than All.

Strange And Wondrous 
Beauty Thou Art Rare
To Thus Descend 
Upon Me Now As I,
Stand Thus Transfixed
Transformed Again,
Turned By Ancient Fingers 
On The Lathe.

What Outcropping 
Does Such Life Unravel?
Move Your Gavel To The Task At Hand.
Turn Your Wheel, Gravedigger Time,
That We May Turn Away;
Live To Scramble Eggs 
Another Day.

Exquisite Pain 
Unfolds As Petals Slowly 
Opening Embrace,
Finding Sunshine 
Kissed Upon Our Face,
Seeking Pleasures 
In A Desperate Race.

Catch Me Though I Fall
And Breath Be Yet 
To Hold Thine Hand;
Walk With God So Small
In Footsteps Shuddered 
On This Land.

Oh Beauty Still, 
A Tragic Glimpse Tis All.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fall Shades, On the Ochred Phloem

Senses are aware of a cavernousness, 
And of a stillness almost quietley abrupt..!

softness of light & air surround all, 
deft as breath as from a doves wing reposing

billows of liquid descending are as grains,
the seeds of an "almost raining"

A lowering of horizion encompasses,
Valley, ridge, and outcropping crag's

the listening atmosphere waits...
breathless as soil is enriching

Close by mammals disturb the folds of fallen bracken,
with bursts of muffled sound, as hand in hand lovers stroll around


Poem by Joe Maverick copyright 27 9 2011
This poem is for Michael J. Falotico's falling in love in the fall contest:)
Form: Couplet

Mene, Tekel, Uparsin

Mene: Numbered.

The number of my loves was few but each brought me to heaven.

A gentle spirit with a beautiful mind and an elegant body, now a yoga teacher imparting her inner magnificence to world.

A sexy little creature, exciting, misanthropic and brimming with insight.

A tortured soul with dozens of faces and personalities, introspective and poetic and now dead at 25.

And two luminous spirits, hearts full of light and creative passion, producing beautiful artwork and enriching the lives around them with their resplendor.

Tekel: Weighed.

My heart has been weighed and found heavy with memories.

When Michelle and I ran at 5 in the morning through the woods to the riverside, and I held her topless on a rock outcropping as we watched the sun rise.

When Layo sang "can't bring me down" and danced up and down and I kissed her all over her face.

When Michele undressed on the side of the lake and I penetrated her, and her skin had marks of pine needles when she stood up.

When Lisbeth missed her meetings at work so that we could climb trees and jump over streams and play with the clouds.

When Julia swam behind me and let me lean back into her and said "Let me be your ocean" and I asked if I could marry her and she said "Maybe," then swam away and came back and said, "I mean yes."

Uparsin: Divided.

I am divided among my loves and have given all of them pieces of me while retaining inside me their residue.

It is said that people keep objects of their loved ones to keep a memory of them alive.

I keep pieces of my loves - they live in me and I live in them, an interlocking hyperdimensional union that resembles the Holy Trinity and interconnectivity of Buddha and the Universe.

And I in them, them in me, create a unity that is divided so that it can be reuinited; weighed so that it be rendered weightless; and numbered so that through it infinity can be achieved.


The numbering, weighing, and dividing of my heart was done for the sake of achieving Heaven, that it could live through me and with my blood write its message - mene, mene, tekel, uparsin - upon the wall.

The Magic of the Veiled Valley

I look into the valley
A shroud of mist hides its beauty
Pale and gray it hangs below me
The sun has yet to reach down from its heights
I know there is life there
There is the smell of a million flowers
Floating on cool breezes
Cooled by a shallow blue/green pond
Rising from the distant floor
The sounds of chirping birds
Chicks crying for food from their mothers
Hawks scream while they look for food
Flying high above the valley’s sides
They echo from stony walls covered with ancient vines
The only sounds on a tranquil spring day
The mist breaks for just second
Leaving a trail of swirls and eddies
As a spotted fawn runs across the dewy grass
The sun rises dissolving the morning’s veil
The animals hide
The birds nest to raise their young
The beauty of the valley is still there
But the magic that was hidden by the fog
The illusion of that peaceful world
The melodic song of the valley’s life
Burns away in the sun’s bright glare
Maybe tomorrow morning before the sun rises
I will again stand on this rocky outcropping
I will see the veiled world
And the magic will be there again

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