Long Pins Poems
Long Pins Poems. Below are the most popular long Pins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pins poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: November 19, 2023, For Ink Empress Contest
The garden of the world has no limits except in your mind. Its presence is more beautiful than the stars with more clarity than the polished mirror of your heart. By Rumi
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Clinging comely crimson cleome curb cosmos
Sky is nebulous with dusk, owing to camos
Ornaments that balmily flicker in the background
Amid whirlpools of jade, scarlet, and indigo found.
Nothing beats a comely asterism of fall nights
To gaze up at the stars and relish the sights
Space wideness may induce mankind to fear
We fathom how desultory we are, through tears.
Diaphanous moon beams brighten the land
Crafting creepy casts curdling children's strands
But the moon is breathtaking in its own right
With a million-year-old mountains and sights.
Amid a silvery sky ignited by the moon
Lonesome island of stars, in a druid swoon
Streets that glisten with dazzling lighting
Crystals of iridescent amethyst shining.
Efflorescence is diaphanous in appearance
Lawns are studded by ruddy lilac buds entrance
Creepy crawlies in azure wind their way upward
Gazebos are sleek and clad in ivory word.
Wispy clouds start to split or disperse
Nebulous mist of the island, to immerse
Elysian Symphony builds to a crescendo
Regarding the violin-produced echo.
Cosmic bodies aligned akin to pins on a map
Assist sailors in spotting their suitable cap
Waterlilies float, creating a gorgeous scene
Lullaby is sung on an idyllic lake, so serene.
The aurora shimmers with an aurified glow
Sewn from spools of gossamer light and flow
A veiled glade is seen by a translucent moon
Rosewood, wisteria, periwinkle, iris leaf tune.
Elixir of gems at night, shine, and dazzle
Host the discovery of feasible ways of gravel
Quintessence of empyreal magnificent form
Bright kaleidoscope prismatic of stars swarm.
~
Framed by affections,
unlocked, waiting...
weathered of vibrant
thoughts and dead bolt
delusions
A portal of desperate
desires and relinquished
pain, for the light
through my cracks and crevices
now shines
My heart is hinged…
eternally by brass pins of endless dreams,
tightly fitting into
the perfect grooves of
your love
Twist with simple ease
my handle, dull and waiting
for the sheen of you
ever bright, glowing
to polish me, to make me
new
Open me, swing me freely,
so smoothly I move
allowing the morning breeze to sift
beyond peep hole shadows
creating a passage
so that I may walk so deeply
into you
10/16/2019
There're things much worse than being alone.
Like a stream of cold words cutting to the bone.
Or bruises blooming like lilacs on the face of innocents.
There's always a steel-toed skunk in a field of mint.
Nobody wants to spend their precious days
navigating paths of eggshell. and broken glass.
You don't notice the petals or bells anymore, only the horn of the coming train crash.
Day upon day you dust off the mask
because that's what dusters are expert at.
They put on rose-scented glasses and tap shoes.
Sashay into yet another flinch-battered day.
Hoping there's a patch of robin egg blue.
To temper that vast quilt of blackish decay.
One thing is always in fashion,
that polka-dot pattern of escalation.
Pinnacle of pins and green desperation.
A shallow pond of apology and reconciliation.
Things turn sweet to sour at the speed of light.
A honeymoon never shows you its darkest side.
Once there were diamonds, now there's only slag -
It's past time for a nonchalant lift off that icy crag.
Prick me with your vivid green awareness
Let the white pins that needle me
Diminish into their foggy sham
The bridal wreath that scented our commitment
Now doused in unkept hopes and promises
Moss sprouting venom from hurts battled
Like a fish floating in space with no oxygen
I swam in currents without you
The tank occupied with endless dark clouds
Fraught with fear and loneliness
Love now submerged deep in the recess of my mind
Unclear what is sacred what is trash
I prayed you would see the light
That my white knight would return
This battle is fierce and yours to fight
To the one who sat here so very long ago
Rooted, I daresay, with so many things to sow
Your needlework is etched upon the faded fabric
Where the story you convey, is interwoven magic
Between the struts and arched divide
Your back you laid, with a family by your side
Each picture on this chair depicts a child you had
And a smiling husband that made you feel so glad
As years move on and life succumbs to change
No longer babes, they're all grown up and in the adult stage
When ceased your work and time you have
To craft upon the chair, those pictures sewn with love
Baby's boots upon the pins, a granny you'll be soon
A time to dress those tiny feet, count toes and really croon
But happiness and loss will at times go hand in hand
Those tears of joy are certain to make the grief disband
You sit and stitch upon this chair, your work so fair and neat
Now the story on this fabric is ended and complete
I wonder at this chair I bought, to see myself sit there
Content with thread and needle, affixed to this old chair
WEEBLES WOBBLE BUT THEY DON'T FALL DOWN
wicked wobbly weebles both wondrously
Junior Super Stretchy shame
Hippity Hop astonishly
Crazy forts
glow in the dark
Limbo Hop
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
The Cat in the Hat I Can Do That
Junior Super Stretchy I do blame
Sunny Patch Bella Butterfly Hopscotch
Jungle Jive Jungle Jive, Oh my
hold the plastic "amazing egg" and perform moves directed
By the cute monkey on a series of cards
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
But if they tip or drop the egg, they'll wake the giggly baby bird inside
Melissa & Doug Monster Bowling
indoor bowling set is fun, funky, and furry
Set up the pins for a game that's active, but also quiet
—well, except for the giggles
Wobble Deck wiggles
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
challenge their balances and improve their coordination and reflexes
While all the Gen X's walk and text
Falling off curbs and stairs
All this and grand pa dropped his cane
After that he slipped and fell on his can
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
10/31/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
Only few vague notions remain.
Resource lowering has emerged.
Poverty and shame endure strain.
Money and action have diverged.
They shackled him with sharp pebbles.
False idols' rage will not be tamed.
Justice can be served, he chisels.
Though with a spirit that's untamed.
I cede safety pins for deep breadth.
Bleed on the rough stones as I move.
Preparedness is worse than death.
Sheer struggle in vain; I chose prove.
The jagged bores of shrub and gorse.
Slumbering softly down their track.
Unyielding uphill this steep source.
The birds chirp and echo ducks quack.
No skin, bear on shreds of mercy.
Our cells used to make a new death.
Keep your bliss, won't bite agony.
Go for different god and breadth.
I'll scale this hard peak until dusk.
Enjoy summer's beauty and clean air.
The wind will take the dusk luck.
Free of jagged rocks and despair.
Written: September 11, 2021
''J'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Clock work spiders are climbing up my wall ‘sticking in their nasty pins so none of them will fall,
As one of them lifts her leg and begins to spin her steel ,
another scurries closer and strums it with its heel .
wide eyed and terror struck i remembered going to bed ,
then the clever thought occurs to me
‘just test it and bang your head .
Nope I’m none the wiser ‘now definitely wide awake the mechanical spiders play too me as none of this is fake .
Dozens of them are present now ‘all shine with a metallic grace
‘ but why my room I ask myself
‘why now and why in this place ?
Segmented shining carapace’s ‘move slowly in the gloom ‘
their steel strung out of different lengths
‘lends melodics to the tune .
Tiny keys are turning that adds motion to their gears
‘the thought of what the hell’s going on ‘l
‘nearly bringing me too tears .
Should I Trust theses clockwork spiders ‘
when will their playing End ?
‘who sent them too late night serenade me
‘was it enemy or a trusted friend?
This picking arachnid blue grass
‘ was really something to see
‘terror was starting to subside ,
I was tapping gleefully.
Please don’t climb down from the wall’s
‘keep playing this wicked tune
‘if could just reach my trusted harmonica
‘I’ll join you really soon.
So there I was sat up in bed
‘the spiders kept their beat ‘
it was now time for my solo ‘ I’d better make this sweet.
scratching approval from these arachnid bots
‘was what my piece had gained
’this was becoming awesome ,this could lead to fame.
Then one by one they began to fall,
‘softly on on my bed
‘ the lack inertia for their key winding
’had ended the music dead .
No ‘I called out in grief there’s a lot more we can play ,
‘please reinstate your innerspring’s and carry on that old country way .
But the lifeless eight legged metals ‘lay still and didn’t move ‘
the time had come ‘we’d had our fun ‘
that was the conclusion of our groove .
Where had these spiders come from and how did they know too play
‘I’ll never forget their music ‘
I’ll never forget this day .
The faces of parents revealed not a worry; not a care.
Kids walked alone, not for tricks, but for treats.
No child was worried about the candy eats.
All that mattered was that the candy was sweet.
And always with respect, the kids did greet.
Before I proceed further, I must hasten to
tell you that this night was unlike any other.
It was one uneasy and scary Halloween;
One with a different kind of scariness.
There were no razors or pins to be found in the candy.
Nor were there any deadly or toxic cookies.
There was a girl dressed like a queen.
Every policeman on the streets was a rookie.
No weird dresses or funny faces on anyone.
And there was a boy dressed like a king.
By comparison, every Halloween prior was a nightmare.
None were dressed in black. No super surprises.
Every child was accounted for, and none was missing.
Not one parent was found weeping in sadness;
But scores of parents were crying for pure joy.
No one was deceived, nor was anyone bereaved.
By comparison to every prior Halloween, this was a dream.
For children and parents everywhere, a night like this was due.
This Halloween was scary because it was too good to be true.
101222PS
The drone of the engine humming,
a bull-wheel around which chairs swing,
skiers all rushing to the line,
beginners are never in time.
A rapid lift up a height,
the bar comes bar to calm the fright,
high view of white trails swooping down,
figures below zipping around.
A few of them fall, full yard-sale,
some smirk when they see others fail,
the teens will laugh, as young men do,
forgetting they were novices too.
The tall tower, the rolling sheaves,
gray cable rolling over it,
low squeaking sound as it goes by,
you're moving slow, but still you fly.
The growing view of mountains close,
tall, frosted pines trees break the snow,
there’s skiers out there, in the glades,
they thirst for woods with powder paved.
A snowgun blasting, hide your face,
pins-and-needles pain as it sprays,
short annoyance, with which we deal,
nature’s stingy with snow that’s real.
The summit station looms ahead,
up goes the bar we are led
to a ramp that slides us down quick,
some first-timers don’t know this trick.
The attendants will help them up,
at first the sport is rather tough,
but once you’ve learned the chairlift seems
a machine that paints winter dreams.
And then comes the fun part…