Long Pattered Poems

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


I Will Never Kiss Those Lips

Well there you are
I have slithered into the wrong home tonight it seems
I sniffed out the repugnant ward and I don’t like what I see
You were magnificent in the face of all beholding you
But your conceit is a trap that even I, the snake, have fallen into
You mask yourself with humility
You compliment me to gain
Begging for the summer rain
Begging for the words that would settle your brain
You got it
But instead it rained on me
Showering me with dangling promises
As typical as can be
Empty
These words so execrably wasted on you
As if for a moment I could even dare CRAVE a poem for you
I do not hate you
I cannot love you
At times I do not know what to feel
Why do you do this? 
Put on a show and hope someone will notice? 
Do you want a nice pat on the back?

I am armless; I am all but muscle and scales
I am a dead carcass and yet you continue to compliment
The beauty of my revulsion 
I hold it to my heart
This trap you set 
I helped you set it right from the start
And you have forced upon me the mere THOUGHT of you
Taking away from my bitter lines 
What empty necessity I have turned out to be
Some kind of trophy coiled around your feet
Walking all over me

I’ve hissed and I’ve hurled insult 
And the rain pitter-pattered my distain
You rested knowing I would remain
You needed reassurance
You always needed GAIN

Well I’ll tell you
This serpent is drained
And oh how I hiss
I will not change into that typical mistress
That settles your conscience with a kiss
You will not have me 
I will never kiss those lips

For you are as fake as can be
And not even a snake like me
Will help you in the deceiving
As everyone watches your show
The only one truly believing
Is YOU 

Don’t hesitate out the door
I’ll swallow you whole


Premium Member When the Earth Woke Singing Spring

When the Earth Woke Singing

The sun came up, the day anew, 
leaving behind the fresh morning dew. 
The sky stretched endlessly and ached in blue, 
making my grass and flowers stretch upright, 
shaking off sleep in the morning’s hue. 

While the sun shone low in the morning sky, 
children emerged, wide-eyed and bright, 
ready to explore and play.

Laughter and chatter could be heard near and far, 
even before the day hid the very last morning star. 
Before even the first cars and trucks hit the roads, 
my topsoil had been pattered by bunnies and toads.

Then, as my roots unfurled to drink from the morning’s honeydew, 
I again drank in the children’s hymn of promise anew. 
Their shadows framed their joy, and the sun moved higher, 
leaving my fields a tapestry ablaze with laughter.

Forest and the Storm

Looking Back at Forest and the Storm


Friday morning and lightning rippled the sky
as I stood under a vast canopy
rustling leaves spoke
and I wondered
how to write a poem
with so much to say

the forest breathed

It was a Friday, the last day of the work week
waiting to go home   but I listened
to the wind speak
in a language
I couldn’t understand
and rain pattered leaves

as it surrounded me

Back home I lived a life of mortals
did laundry, and saw friends
with so much to say
about my life with trees
and they were calling
me back

the language of gods


* braided haibun form
Form: Other

Premium Member Life As a Teenage Witch

I never asked for this gig, she reminded them.
Her father was apologetic, but wizards are weak.
Her mother rolled her eyes at the weakness of him.
You will see, she told her daughter, there are those who seek.

We are mystical beings, and we have souls of gold.
We can fly into the night, and it never grows old.
You are lucky to be a witch like me, her mother said.
What about her auntie? Her husband asked. Isn’t she dead?

Your aunt never fully embraced the magical life.
She got wrapped up in drugs that took over her strife.
You will be like me her mother told her daughter.
Her wizard father kept his eye on his glass of water.

The teenage witch was not sure what her mother meant.
She was tired of being different, not feeling heaven-sent.
Her father pattered away, down the hall, and went to bed.
The teenager took off on a broom, and her soul was fed!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Scented Leaves

Scented Leaves

Flowery fragrance sorts divisive airflow and cooperates amidst plethoric aubergines that bathe breathlessly, brushing raised exemplars of strewn unfurled chartreuse fronds, lain in the wake of humble pattered feet enthralled in its tangy betrothed crisp path,

Ingratiating themselves against engaging tickles of countless laddered leaves being crushed, bursting citrus piquant squirts that flavors a blessed orangey tawny forest of verdurous lime greens and lemony leaflets of carpeted existence essences,

Autumn gifts a luminous prism of extraordinary combinations touching rainbow eyes to favor, and unimaginable pleasure of incalculable noses to savor, as per crowning Heaven, immerse its creation re sun-drenched over-shades lathered in a pool of multiple redolences.

2019 November 12

*1st Place*

SCENTED LEAVES
~~Kim Rodrigues
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Dancing With the Rain

There came today a shower of delight,
which pitter-pattered on my window pane.
With youth’s exuberance, my mind took flight.
Outside I ran, embracing April’s rain.

How sweet its scent! My soul was filled with mirth,
for I was truly living in the “now.”
Upon my lips, I tasted earth’s rebirth
as spring’s refreshment fell upon my brow.

I paused nearby my ornamental pear,
inhaling deeply, hearing skyfall’s sound.
The world was singing; fragrance filled the air.
I then began to twirl and twirl around.

Oh, how I wish to feel that way again -
so young and hope-filled, dancing with the rain!
Form: Sonnet

Thunder Storm

Rain taps at the window,
 a song of secretive inuendo
lost in the rolling rumble 
  of  distant thunder’s grumble
 a drummer’s play of pattered rhythms 
  streaming light flashes and holy chrism.
Tip toeing down the siding
   hard but on the ground gliding
slip sliding fast to the drainage ditch
    soaking the soil there to be enriched.
Ponds  form, pulling grass and dirt along the flow
   into the circled churning waters moving and on the go,
waves of accumulated crests build up in the corners there
   where the ground levels out and holds this place ensnared.
The water pools and  ripples in the clouded shade
   rain slows bringing rush of thirsty creatures on parade.
A squirrel, a rabbit, a blue jay and a sparrow
  lapping up the earth’s parched liquid marrow
Worms rise from the drowning earth
  life in silent unseen rebirth.
All the world is renewed
    with rain in earth’s blended stew.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Verses

I'm the vessel of your verses
The voice of your vice
The product of the dream you nurture
The nature you hide

I'm the vessel of your verses
For better or worse as
I killed as much as I healed
For your own selfish causes

Though like I 
Sprinkled in time – a wrinkle in time
Distort this course of pattered patterns
As we try to advise

I come from a plight your voice invites
Yet through that noise my choice is mine
I'll rhyme with vice from time to time
But rhyme my course through what is mine

To frame my words:

Picture my verse reversing a curse and nursing a hearse 
Purging the urge to merge with the merchant of murder or worse
Piercing the person that persecuted my pride
Piercing the Plight that worsens the worth of the words I write
Purging my urges, the grudges held from the judgment of hurt
Purging my hypocrisy, when it gave you hurt much worse

The stanzas alliterate to reflect the repetition
The verse of illiterate veterans on a mission
To verse you in their permanent "medicating" religion
Most mean love, while most only deliver what's given

Premium Member Roman Vacation

Years back, I shimmered in her glow
a city wrapped in rich crochet…
my best friend sipping espresso
down Vatican and lit subway,
where nights  of Rome danced a relay
the hilltops breathing a pearled sigh,
embellished with aisles of bouquet…
I relished her soil brushed in dye.
While Latin tunes drooled an alto
near ruins of Colosseum …
glory be, Pope John Paul we saw,
as crowds waved, rare his decorum.  
Until tears sparkled misty gray
inside vaults and arches nearby;
tales flowed of ancient  kings’ decay…
I relished her soil brushed in dye.
The streets pattered, run-and- go
Along a queue for concert’s replay;
then awed by Sistine’s pomp fresco
while eyes fluttered in a thrilled sway!
How we raced as quaint shops called, “buy,” 
arms cuddling tokens like piled rye
wishes blown, glazed as eve’s firefly! 
I relished her soil brushed in dye.
On our last day, I needed to say
“Yes, I’ll come back before moons cry”…
since this heart pined for Rome each day.
I relished her soil brushed in dye!


Lin Lane's Take A Vacation Contest
Ballade--28 lines   2/16/2016
Form: Ballade

Premium Member Sorrow Fell Like Nettled Tears

To the sound of pelting rain, I woke this early morning
Upon the tattered roof, it rhythmically pitter pattered
No sunlight peeked through clouds on daylight's dawning
I saw him in a dream and those that were shattered,
and of nights I'd spent without end, remorse spawning

Windblown rain pummeled windows. On sills it splashed
Obscured was my view, vision blurred behind each pane
Howled as does a wolf, thunder growled, lightning flashed
In rivulets like rain, was the weeping I struggled to restrain
Like blood dripping from a wound, as if my heart was slashed

That night, in shadowed lamplight I'd espied on the corner,
a familiar silhouette of one whose countenance was given
Green eyes stared at me, not with looks of a foreigner 
No words were spoken as riven torrents of rain were driven
He was beyond the reach of this sad beseeching mourner

I ventured outside and into the sting of nettled showers
for just one more glimpse of him ~ that was my reason
On the street, scattered at my feet were wilted flowers
Fallacy, was an act Charlotte Bronte' would label 'treason'
Uncloaked and soaked, I stood with memories for hours

From grief I could not hide nor abide my mirrored face
His eyes were unveiled, and yet not one word did he speak
There were no spun silk threads, woven in warm embrace
He had raised no hand in farewell. A tear grazed my cheek
Without solace I would linger in portals of this empty place

I trembled, shivering and teary eyed. There was no mistaking
that sips from a tainted cup had the caustic taste of bitter gall
My impeccant knight chose as his right to claim this forsaking
Nimbus skies lay overcast without surcease of a graying pall
Fraught with an echoing ache I whispered, "My heart is breaking."
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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