Long Paled Poems
Long Paled Poems. Below are the most popular long Paled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paled poems by poem length and keyword.
There seemed no redemption
from a crucial mistake
while escaping dear home…
I watched stars up high
enkindling raw freedom
to search the eagle's trail.
Yet this reckless dream
bore uncertainty;
as sundown paled low
contemplation roused;
hands pounding on our gate..
Mom …she held me
this rebel tamed,
as prayers lit
for favors sent.
With kindness,
I embrace
adulthood;
This flame
of life
Blessed!
................
After graduating from college at 21,
I left home without notice for three days
to challenge my need for freedom..
...................................
Laura Loo's Your Biggest Mistake
7/7/2016
A masterpiece so they say today
but a century ago back in another day;
scathing ridicule ensued on that portrait they knew
only of paled love and lust as The Kiss exposed disgust.
as the times change, it is viewed in a newer exchange
simple lovers kiss endeared and reputation now revered.
In the world's artistic wonder that plays out
yesterdays beauty with kisses on the mouth
are more exposed and open to physical exploration
confounded and plagued by sensual interpretation;
the artist's mind revealed and openly exposed
in the secrets of his heart deeply in the kisses throws.
Perhaps a little closer look is needed
indulging in the passionate embrace cheated
by the colors flow of yellows and gold
as legs and hands and bodies enfold;
so bold and brave an image before its time
the lover's kiss is quite sublime.
Sunsets aren't quite as bright;
And the flowers are all dying.
Miss you, tall, handsome knight,
As autumn leaves are flying.
Searing summer now a memory-
Soon we'll be together again!
Hope you often think of me.
I know you're not too vain.
Didn't we dance golden days and nights away?
Didn't we kiss under the moon?
But sunny skies have now paled to gray.
Summer left too soon!
Seems I loved you forever.
You are my every pastel sunrise.
Said you'd love me always, whatever.
You are my heart's surprise.
As sweet summer begins to fade,
I must have grown lonelier, it seems,
But for the lovely plans we made,
In the days of dreams.
“ Love which bloomed like a Red Rose,
and spread fragrance like a melted candle!” (By Poet)
there was an enthralling love I felt only once...
fascinating romance blossomed when I was only a teen,
I didn't know how overpowering first love is,
But experienced a thunderous turbulence within!
We were neighbours, I saw my beloved boy every day,
But if he was engaged on occasions, or somehow late
to arrive, tears of heartache rolled down my cheeks,
my whole world seemed arid and empty, until we met.
Oh, that was a truly passionate love I was madly in,
It was a young love… genuine, flawless, and pure,
There was no suffering he wouldn't endure for me,
There was no misery I wouldn't face for him, for sure.
We raced together in the lush fields in golden summer,
We sang together without bounds which we gleefully rejoiced
He gifted fragrant Jasmine flowers from his garden to me,
So I could make a garland for him with colours of my choice!
We enjoyed infinite togetherness for hours and hours
When sapphire waves lapped rolling on the sea shore gold,
I knew perfectly there was no one else I wanted to be with,
Only he who stretched his strong arm for me to hold.
A love like an entrancing fantasy of a fairy tale,
I was a radiant Princess, you were my ravishing Knight,
I ardently dream about the glorious love which never paled,
In quiet forlorn days, and in the wistful passions of my night.
October 16, 2022
For "Inspired By A Song (Once there was a love)" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jez Brul
A Blossoming fig splashed with sunlight to paint it Green,
rooted the earth against the winds,
branches stretched
Abroad,
To cool with the breeze, traveling stems,
fresh leaves on, like wig
on a lawyer's yet
childless its
bore,
though chastised by its season,
and caressed
by nature.
He traveled from afar to get close to it
Bathed in Baptism,
slept the forests
Walked ages, seasoned the days
period the time,
Smiles the
miles
full
of nights.
stood by it, gazed at it, gave a hug chime
nonreciprocal greetings
Splashed beck at
him childless
its bore cold
its stood
fixed the
earth
With huge bark, dark brown
Earthen roots sunk deep
down, broad fragile
stems yet a
childless
its bore.
Out stretched arms stems
The cardinal of the earth
The leaves freshening.
Still yet childless it bore.
Angered wore his compassion
With beautify attires
And spat fire
from His
scripture coated tongue
splashed
it on
her
To bake it withered and dry, No soul never taste
Of thy vine to dine childless
your fruit till forever
comes
Thus it paled off
childless and fruitless
Its withered.
Mark 11: 12 - 14
20- 27
N/A
6/5/2020
BRIAN'S SELECT 5,any form,any theme
6/2/2020
in delicate domain
of latticed life
at esoteric edge
of sinking sky
sanguine
hermit horizon
shimmers sensibility
in paled passion
incited perception
dawned
illumines insight
radiant
on convoluted contours
of dismantled dream
adrift
whirlpool of pining
swivels in intrinsic stream
arcane mindscape
marooned
recedes unperceived
into twilight obscurity
ordained
final flow
of terminal notion
through insipid channel
on platitude plateau
obscure
constructs conduit
for contemplation current
destined for
integral fusion
with supreme sea
absolute
the end embraces
sublime serenity
reflective
psyche suffused
with sunset spectrum
fading
designs desire
derelict
entrenched in
perpetuity illusion
innate
embeds eternal efflux
in enlightened soul
sailing implicitly
to bay of bliss
buoyantly
On the street corner
In the center of chaos in the city
On a sordid sidewalk with others like her
She lay dormant with dirty worn hands
Holding the bottle of Wild Irish Rose held tightly
Broken in Shame
Her spirit numbed by so little affection
Her essence had paled with little grace
Her memories vanished with time
Her misery was all that was left
Her tearful eyes would beg from people passing by
"Please just help me live today" she wavered
She waned with little food and comfort for her plea
Her heart was still alive and revealed itself
Her benevolence shown through
For every coin she received
She gave one to someone else in need
"Alms of goodness" she would say........
Everyone called her "CHARITY"
October 24, 2019
1st Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina Riddle
I’ve run long and hard down this trail we call life
it’s been filled with heartache and been filled with strife
I've taken some things with my gun, fist and knife
But I swear I’ve always been faithful to you
Sometimes I've flirted with a filly or two
there have been times when I chased a drink or two
I sometimes didn’t do what I said I’d do
But I swear I’ve always been faithful to you
I have gambled away a paycheck or two
I've told some white lies but never one to you
Have I hidden cards? Maybe more than a few
But I swear I’ve always been faithful to you
I have cussed like a sailor on Friday night
Never was accused of being too polite
Had a hard time telling what's wrong and what's right
But I swear, I've always been faithful to you
Now I’m near the end of this dusty old trail
I’ve tried to make you proud but I’ve always failed
You needed the sun but I’ve forever paled
But I swear I’ve always been faithful to you
Now I have lost the trail in this setting sun
You deserved a good man but I wasn't one
I hope you'll find what you need after I'm gone
Remember, I've always been faithful to you
A night for Romance
Wes at on an upturned boat of the type of “the old man and the sea.”
by Ernest Hemingway used, the night had all the ingredients needed
for romance, full moon and glittering stars on blue velvet.
She gave herself to me, how trite and old fashion this sentence sound
nevertheless, it was so, sixty years ago.
I gave her a cheap wristwatch bought in Genoa it was hopelessly slow.
I think it was in some small seaport in Guatemala or some other
the port on the coast of Latin America and the year was 1964.
Then the night paled I could see my ship it was ready to set sail
to some other destination. And so many years later her kisses
still lingers on my lips.
I
Between Juliet and me
Devotion thrived . . .
We stayed all day and all night
In dark, hidden places, picking watercress for the moon
Together we lived, Juliet and I,
Among worm woods
Friendly gardens
Doing silly things,
Avoiding the city’s hastiness,
Befriending rural life,
Hiding behind palisade fences
Among stunted grass,
Waiting for sunset’s glow to light up
The dark paths of our stolen love.
I remember us running talks with
Anne of Green Gables
On the greenishness of a stable summer.
And when the church bell tolled
For the vespers,
We ran across the external nave,
Our faces frowned with shyness,
Thinking? we are full of ourselves. . .
And I loved her
And I loved her name
And still love it.
Fret not, O’ Juliet
But read to me
Like you read, that memorable Friday night
You and I sighted frescoes on the rapier-thin
Rim of dusk’s azimuth.
II
I sang your songs, O’ Maria,
In the days grandfather lived and smiled on
With his broken front tooth stained by age and sageness
Your narrow, sweet face paled and showed signs of the
Dim past
I do not know who you were, dear Maria
I did not know you deeply,
But with strings straightened across hard-bending bow,
Earthen pots,
Grass-flutes,
And ivory samba,
I have discerned all that happened to you
Through ancestral lyrics laced with drops of love.
In those days,
There lived Maria,
Mother of sons and daughters,
And she had dark eyes and dark lips
And teeth whiter than clouds . . .
In those days
There was confusion and strife
But Maria made the best out of them
Because she had love so fragrant
And her soul bled with devotion
And every word she puked had love in it.
Trenches, valleys, gullies
And images of blissful youth
Blended carefully, forming imposing pictures
Before her charming eyes.
Her name pokes my ribs gently
And she knew well how to write love-letters
Some of which have been reserved in the museum of
Memory where they eternally reside,
The cellar of the soul
Rolls of parchment, browned by time,
Season the words of love in them stronger.
Here, my vigil candles
Have ceased blinking
And have glowed the more —like the
Curved ends of the crescent moon —
Just for your name, O’ Maria.