Long Paned Poems
Long Paned Poems. Below are the most popular long Paned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paned poems by poem length and keyword.
the mirror warped at the sight of her distorted face
condensed tears spoke louder than thundering words
‘swoosh’ and down went another part of her soul
tore apart the bevelled edges and smeared her grin
a window paned groaned when it reflected the image
mould began to ache at the frame of moist darkness
‘follow me to the heart of despair and you must listen’
but the cacophony only heightened the sense of foul smell
stench oozed from margins of trance and transcended
purulent voices shouted at scars to rejoice and applaud
screams hammered the nails into her flesh at the cross
reverie to nightmares dazed a suspended anticipation
of fear hallucinating cobwebs in apathetic labyrinths
mazed anger disguised as sorrow as they cut into flesh
once a sweet passion fruit now rusty corrosion splashed
her skin and pierced hope as it uttered ‘don’t let me go’
a silent and frightening retreat unfastened a dream catcher
lost bare threads falling on deaf ears blasted delusions
small feathers of resolve budged under duress and floated
until her looking glass shattered into one hundred pieces
the shards screeched unwilling to form a mosaic of relief
resembled her broken façade lacerated skin and reflections
and yet somehow the sensation felt like a puncture of dread
the childhood princess had reached rock bottom and wept
‘do not hurt me Daddy I am immaculate and innocent’
‘Mom why don’t you protect me with unblemished care’
yet bleeding into night terror and sheets only wet his abuse
until she realized she was the victim and not guilty or at fault
when she grasped fragments of recollections and scraps
aimed the splinters at where they came from and sliced
into her parents’ evil rape of her vulnerable juvenescence
they died a painful death and she finally imagined a future
01st November 2020
Weeping willows on dead Swans' Lake
Ballerina shoes too small, hanging on rusted nails
I keep on waking up from giggled dancing lessons
Mother still alive in the waiting room - proud...
Shaking fingers crossed, holding my fans' bouquets
My hair not gray, teasing life on pirouettes
It started snowing glitter of way long childhood gone
I scream a violent silence through a double paned sliding dream
It's time - the time when clocks face me without hands -
I shyly grab some "What if's" and remember to tie my shoe laces
" Stand straight, chin up" - a stage light on a solo swan
A last and gracious slide on an untangled musical key...
I sit and watch.
Changes come so slowly.
So, vigilance is required,
an attentiveness to minutia.
There are layers of wardings
erected between
the watch and I.
Thoughts, which flit and skitter
fight for outward movement.
Flesh that is too weak to hold attention,
leans toward the walls of cracks;
where even the plaster pulls
from its sheaf
and the dirty
double paned glass
waylays the eye.
Enthralled by the changes:
rain to sleet, to snow, to hail, to rain,
the maple buds leaving
their pointillist, rouge-lacquered shells,
dropping like the wings
of an emergent butterfly; I root.
Nights of storm-slapped branches
unfurl orchestrated by wind –
How the maple now dangles leaves like earrings
from the tips of the smallest twigs.
Tomorrow they will open
to palm the morning breeze
and welcome the spears of Lilly of the Valley,
as they emerge overnight beneath the mother tree.
The deer have eaten the tender,
green, tongue-rolled, delights of Hosta and Day Lily,
but they are stalwart plants and will return.
I’ve watched and watched but not seen the deer
though I have seen their bedding spots
among the mulch beneath the maple
in the winter and their hoof
prints in the snow.
Today, I will watch
temperatures are rising
and soon there will be
lilacs.
First Published in Latchkey Tales 2014
Raindrops pelted against the window, rolling down the paned glass like tears,
Not unlike the way tears were rolling down my pained face,
The sky was crying with me,
As the plants drowned in the rain,
It felt like I was drowning in my worries,
There was a restlessness within me, and I knew I couldn’t just sit there,
I knew I couldn’t just allow my anxiety to take over,
I stepped into the rainstorm, just for a moment,
And let it wash away all the negativity, all the overthought thoughts,
And as I stepped inside once more,
I could take a proper breath,
I was calm once again, everything was okay.
The b ba baaa backbeat of backup beeps
and the engine rroarrrrs
join the whizz of rubber wheels
and the lingering laughter of lovers
at the intersection
The beep-beep tootelie-toots
of arriving transit buses
tickles the funny-bone of morning
waking somnambulant walkers
who dot the sidewalk below my perch,
even the slap of skate-boards
and the clinking tweeter od metal shopping carts
makes music…
Each raucous sound rattles
the single-paned windows of clap-board relics
pinging off plaster, vibrating through ancient oak floors
coming home to roost in the mingled fragrance
of brownies and mary jane.
Dancing circles in the air
Pirouettes to seek and share
Feathered frenzy of delight
Such a wondrous, joyful sight
Framed by windows paned of glass
As I feel the morning pass
Wings that catch the dawning breeze
Entertain my heart with ease
From my station, perched and warm
Guiding me through every storm
Birds of yellow, red and blue
Dip and sway in fluttered hue
Free and fair and all things sweet
Minding me with every tweet
Life has soarings yet unflown
Dancing circles of my own
Night is locked down within its darkness.
I am not driving into the morning
but slipping deeper into a night-tide.
Occasionally the road is almost lit
by stuttering neon signs,
mostly the roadside houses
seem unplugged from any light.
Black paned bedroom windows
seem to reflect the dreamers behind them,
each dreamscape is different
but collectively the same.
I'm driving, watching the headlights
scanning the road ahead
as if my car were a luna vehicle
exploring an alien landscape.
I had a plan, I had a destination,
now I have to crawl my way
along this endless road
knowing nothing of journeys.
Somewhere ahead of me
there is a dawn awakening
yet now I see
that it is further away
then far. It is beyond,
and in my head
phantom eyes are closing.
Curled in the fetal position, snug and warm in the bed under the fluffy down
comforter dreaming as day breaks. Then suddenly a storm brews and explodes
through the large double-paned window lifting me up higher than I had ever been
lifted before. Sucked up out of the warm covers, surrounded by broken glass but
still in slumber but terrified, heart pounding trapped in a nightmare that doesn't
seem to want to end. Then the alarm buzzes bringing back to reality falling,
falling back down to the soft warm bed where dreams are made.
glass crunches with weight
can't move for shattered pieces...
tornado sirens
Life as known up until this time has changed. Trapped in fear any thunderstorm
cower in a basement each time there is a cloud remembering, remembering that day
when a horrific storm blew through my window.
Inspired by one of the pictures
in Debbie's contest page but
not an entry.
Breezing trees heard the whispers of leaves
in the fardel of branches as they trembled
beneath the relentless breath of april's storm
i watched them from my window
this paned glass smudged over
with the splatter of lashing rain
pulsating against my hands
as i struggled to see clearly
through the ambages of drops
gliding down in an oblique trail
as they fell from ashen skies
and sullen eyes the same
this window has become my passage
to the forbidden outside world
where society once traipsed freely
upon these cobblestone streets
yet all i hear are the echoes of rain
as it plummets downward
all i see are these trees
struggling to remain grounded
in the lash of storm's fury
forthwith i see
you, me, a society
clinging together
likes these leaves
in the midst of this storm
trying to break free
april 24, 2020
* Breezing trees heard the whispers of leaves*
line credit to Vijay Pandit
Poetic lines Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
I see the light through faded vision
I see times' flight in this faceless prison
Scorned by death yet banished from life
In stasis somewhere beyond day and night
Somewhere I am but nowhere it be
Nowhere can I be alive or dead you see
I hear the sound of the babbling brook
I hear bird song as evening comes
I feel the wind pass through my soul
I taste the rain and feel the snow
Though sight I have no paned window
I see the movement and feel the shapes
I watch the sounds and colours escape
For they can pass through this place
They can find a peace some way
For I know not of what deal I made
I expected peace when I found my grave
But I can not live or die in this life or game.