Long Pastels Poems
Long Pastels Poems. Below are the most popular long Pastels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pastels poems by poem length and keyword.
If you wish to conquer my soul in shreds of forever,
Drop your mask and carry me in your embrace,
As a panther, lie in wait for me, not to steal me away,
But to dance with me in the love's palace we yearn for.
The storm inside of me is silently disarmed,
In the quiet chambers, with the murmur of an abandoned river,
Cast my becoming into the future's pastels,
And blend into my passage, smooth as a muse in flight.
If you add to our struggles the salt and bitterness of life,
Wield your character like an art of pure mastery,
Your sincerity will be a lighthouse in the darkness,
And may you wander far from the sneaky chains of deductions.
Rather, go and sculpt your language from mute gestures,
Mysterious, as the eyes speak what words cannot,
And let your steps be guided by robust melodies,
That feed my hungry eyes with beauty and shape.
Now follow the steps that promise ungrasped bonds,
And don't forget the light that must end the enshrouded spectacle,
So that in the end, my soul may be enmeshed in your nets,
And you enclose it in a labyrinth of love, to gift it immortality and the eternal.
Deep purple tulips - virtually black,
I spied,
amidst the otherwise boring
pastels,
for the merlot-colored beauties
drew me near,
to drink them into my eyes -
a tiger-eye smile, where light shines.
I’m made up
for a celebratory party, comparatively
trivial
alongside such divine buttercups -
royal, sublime.
Deep purple tulips speak poetry
in a foreign tongue.
I lean in to listen to their strange
speech.
Not apt to forget their whisper amidst
the clique of colors,
and the colorless whites I rub elbows with.
The servers meld into the mix. Their smiles,
brighten my experience, with deep purple lips.
4/2/2022
Yet another surly night staring at a haloed moon,
until I heard a nightingale sing the glories of dawn.
Pastels painted the sky as he trilled an ariose tune.
To the mellifluous sound of his voice, I was drawn.
His dulcet melody was soothing my sorrowful heart
from the loss of a great love, a tragic circumstance.
His song uplifted me, since we'd been torn apart.
As he hailed the sun, I yearned for another romance.
I imagined that his vocals were a love song of hope
to begin each new day filled life instead of solitude.
No longer would I live in a somber mood and mope.
I would welcome every morn as sunlight was imbued.
Thank you, gracious nightingale, for your melodic tune.
You woke me from the doldrums of an unhappy spirit.
No more lonely nights would I stare at a haloed moon,
for you revived my soul, and I was fortunate to hear it.
June 9th, 2021
This or That, Vol 3 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Eyelids bat and blink through break of day
Sunrise daubing reach with pastels, bright
Friends and kin and games are on the way
Wrapped in temps 'bout eighty Fahrenheit
Waters, cool and smooth to paint the bay
Blossom breezes breathing fresh and light
Foods and cool refreshments feed the fray
Through our ways we do the summer right
Yet, it's LOVE that makes a day so blessed.
Written and submitted on October 2, 2019
For the "Queen Of Day 9 X 9" Poetry Contest
Charles Messina, Sponsor.
( Syllables = nine syllables per line, counted at HowManySyllables.com )
I was meandering in the forest today
Why all the animals where out to play
I saw some parrots high in the trees
So colorful a mirage of painted canopy
I saw the deer’s and does in fields
Enjoying a drink at the rivers edge
Ducks and Doves flew proud overheard
As monkeys jumped from tree to tree
Alligators swam to and fro
Lingering till dinner calls
Then we all better run for safer ground
Last one in, is first one down
The marigolds flourish in the fields today
A painting of nature Monet will draw
Awash with pastels and natures erotic draw
However there is a smell I do smell
That upsets my wanderings on this fine day
It’s repulsive and follows me I do say
An odor that’s smelly and just not right
In fact I confess it gives me a fright
So off to home I rush, to brush this strange odor away
In my boudoir and yet still surrounded by this offensive smell
To the powder room I go and look in the mirror
I scream in absolute horror
I am a SKUNK!!!!!!!!
I look up at the skies above me
to describe how I was feeling
but there was no color in the sky
And the old man in the clouds
Was no were to be found
He died a century ago
The sky had lost its luster
And the glory in the moon had disappeared
The stars were nowhere to be found
And the silver lining on the cloud
had fallen to the ground
There was no color in the sun
And the baseball pitcher
had already completed the home run
I use my paint brush to create the scene
And pastel colors to assemble a new dream
But the man-made color kept disturbing me
The new faces in town were acting
Like some twelve century clown
I tried to force some words out
But they kept gargling
in the back of my throat
And I couldn’t express how I feel
I just allow my weight
To absorb with the passing breeze
I couldn’t tell from whence this feeling came
But it was obvious that life wasn’t going to be the same
I dug in the utmost part of my mind
And I came up with a lucrative design
that could not appease my mind
In a split second
The transition was made
And a new ambition was formed
The old heaven collapse to the ground
And a new heaven gave birth to
A miraculous world
The pigments in pastels
Diffuse the living hell
and the old lugs fell off the truck
Around the bend
Apple and Peach are in the basket
Life! What approbations to recall?
A solace that never was – Utopia
Should such love get forgiveness?
The seminal seeds of such a cast…
Claims of the spurious narcissistic
Ah! Words, rescind not a sarcoma
lying brashly, filling its poison vial
long swallowed - bona fide denial!
(1/10/2021)
Nearing their curtain’s final fall, they fly
as the geese and monarchs; to warmth they hie
To hobble where once trees stood: golf courses,
smoothed for their lazy electric horses…
Chilled hearts and aching bones pay for the sun
Fenced off for their guarded and landscaped fun
For barely a stone-throw away, poor shakes,
Ripple the divide, hazing man-made lakes…
There they sweat through long sartorial jokes
fearing beams may strike a cancerous stroke
Whites and pastels their preferred uniform
Clearly labeled for their clubs’ garish norm…
Cloistered, they are already neatly packed
Boxed close for flames: coffins securely-stacked.
(3/5/18: ’06 Formula 37PC i/ii DMS)
I get a glimpse of you
A soft hue of light lavender
rising in my dawn
Gliding fervently
in sun-kissed breeze
An ephemeral beauty
enchanting the depths
of these caramel eyes
Your purple wings flaunt
in whimsical ballad
Sprinkling evanescent dew
across the embers of my heart
And I feel it,a florescent flutter
tickling my bare shoulder
chasing the back of my neck
teasing in wistful wonder
My blushed smile
preserves the moment
of your tender brush
across the silk peach of my cheek
Of your fervent kiss
fading in ethereal bliss
An unspoiled warmth of softened touch
upon the almond scent of my hair
My heart captures the seconds
before those iridescent wings
fly high in sheer splendor
to crimson blossoms which bloom
which sway,which bleed their rose
which wrap their thorns
around my feet,around my hand
So I would not follow
your shimmering dust
on promised paths
of rainbow's pastels
So I would not find you
in the faraway land
Yet,here I am,
On autumn's carpet
I mark my footprints
Yet,here I come
So close to you
Yes,here I stand.
Give me a thoughtful image
That I can reveal in black and white,
Or with tints and shades of colors
Using pastels, ink, or graphite.
Even the most common thing
Can seem to be introspective
When rendered with clever shading
Or seen from a different perspective.
Find me a new metaphor,
Or a novel unused simile—
Something like alliteration
To bring to life my poetry.
Help me write some plays on words,
Or a sentimental nuance,
That would appeal to those lovebirds
That see the world through the lens of romance.
Inspire me with lyrics
And clever rhymes that tell a story.
Then hum a new chord progression
That would support a melody.
Add guitar riffs and a hook
That surprise like an epiphany.
Bind them together like a book:
A multi-genre fusion symphony.
(Chorus)
Give me an idea worthy of a drawing, poem, or song;
Something inspiring enough to push creativity along.
Something interesting enough to fire the synapses in my brain.
Something provocative enough to make all stop and look again.
I'm nestled in daydreams, safely tucked in a halcyon haven
away from the stress that greedily feasts on me like a raven
My Utopian realm offers a peaceful kingdom; a sanctuary
where there is no arguing with any acrimonious adversary
I take flight to a lowland vale, with gardens in full bloom
safe from life's burdens, as if I'm still inside my natal womb
Fields of wildflowers and carpets of moss are my landscape
Orchard of grape vines and a citrus grove is where I escape
Showers and sunshine are nuanced in my Eden of tranquility
I live harmoniously with forest animals in absolute affability
Blue skies brighten every day, darkening to indigo each night
Wrapped in my lover's arms, beneath stars and soft moonlight
l live in a multi-level tree house, sprawled in a stand of pine
My neighbors are feral mustangs; a roaming herd of equine
I built a porch that overlooks the view of my pastoral land
watching eagles as they hunt and soar with feathers fanned
I watch each stained glass sunrise as it surfaces from the sea
and each sunset, when dusk paints pastels with grand esprit
No fence surrounds my oasis, no flashing lights or blaring horns
and I've hybridized my roses, so no longer do they have thorns
There's some sanctity to be found in a divine place like this
One of spiritual symbiosis and a bounty of benevolent bliss
There's no known place on Earth where everyone gets along
but in my sanctum, no one ever tells me I'm too headstrong
I long for a refuge where I can take ample time to just relax
where I'll not be faced with the entity of fear, called parallax
When fire storms of frustration blaze much too high to douse
I'll be daydreaming while climbing the stairs to my tree house
August 18th, 2020
Sanctuary Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent On