Long Pirouetting Poems
Long Pirouetting Poems. Below are the most popular long Pirouetting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pirouetting poems by poem length and keyword.
R a i n ~ a misted mirror
coated in petrichor pain ~
fused with memories
pirouetting through the
veiled salt of the earth,
caressing the Pina Colada dreams
adrift in the icy-blue air,
amidst clouds soaked
in prismatic hues ~
arching like opalescent canopies,
to hide the despair I’ve draped
in dragonfly hues that no one knows
but the moon and his
merciful silver, forever stroking
the silken surface of s i l e n c e ~
homed within my
heart that aches…
And along with the thunder ~
came confetti of scars,
a piercing flash of metallic truth
revealing midnight rays
of how I’ve long been the storm ~
a murky sky of cracked constellations,
a rush of roaring torrents,
driving my thoughts to the honed
borderline of tremors and torture ~
teetering on forsaken fragility.
O dahlia dawn ~
I am the splitting tempest,
the spectral outline of
electrified lightning.
I taste the bittersweet flavors
of opaline stars ~
trembling in angst,
as fleeting sparks of the buried past,
too, feel the hurt beneath
the pansies of paradise,
where angels unfurl their
wings, sprinkling tears of hope
upon the battlefield of
shattered dreams,
lamenting the endless war
that burns in the olive-green
orchard of the grief-struck mind,
where fairy-lights
flicker neon hints of
prejudice through broken twigs ~
a pitiful perception,
amplifying the echoing embers
floating above puddles
of weathered lilies,
stained with dust and powder,
weaving a requiem for the
f a l l e n jewels,
walking through the trails
of bruises and tilted tulips,
bleeding poetry ~
beautified with
polychromatic phrases
and falcon ink that cuts
through paper promises,
leaving nothing but a restless reverie,
breathing in the quivering
warmth of quietude…
Listen to the wind sweeping autumn leaves,
pirouetting amongst a citrine sunset.
Whilst light rain collects at corners of windowsills,
illumination from a crackling fire
bounces upon unpigmented mourning walls.
Silent weeping occupies microcrevices,
confined within the splintering memories.
The creaking of an antique rocking chair
melds with the restless nocturnal atmosphere,
of time no longer waiting in the shadows.
Sheer onyx fabric draped over photographs—
death came much earlier, not from hate or spite,
but to erase the endless suffering,
of years wreathing in perpetual chronic pain,
locked within fragile bones and a trapped mind.
So do not curse the gods, my dearest love,
nor get lost in voids of sorrow oblivion.
Know peace has now been brought to my tired soul;
I wait patiently until we are one again.
'As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true' ~ Mystic Rose Rose
my chrysalis heart traces her sparkling scales, kissed by saffron haze,
mirroring flickering flutters through her deep, warm, balmy gaze,
amidst petals unfurling diamond dreams, sewn with golden strings,
and sepals sprouting cerulean serenity, caressing sapphire wings…
but in the spring-touched garden of iridescent desire,
like tiny silhouettes pirouetting as wisps in the rain-soaked choir,
she scatters whimsical wishes across healing meadows,
erasing wild rose pollen steeped in woeful throes of crestfallen shadows…
I tumbled beautifully through the air
Pirouetting in this downward spiral
Knowing I had a target to land on
Instinct and premonition were my guides
The warm embrace of my perfect memories weren't there to catch me as I'd hoped
Instead, I plunged headfirst into a warm pool
Simultaneously, I felt happy and scared
So warm, yet shivering
I twisted around to take it in
And there you were
You belonged to someone else
The person I called my closest friend
But you weren't satisfied
And all three of us knew it
Smiling underwater, you reached your hand out
Whirlpools opened around us as I took your hand
It was odd, but I knew it was right
After all, I'd done something like this before
His chains were cut and I carried them instead
My instinct was to cut them again and run
Yet every chance I had, I avoided
The chains vanished, yet I remained
The trials and troubles never mattered
Somehow, it always worked
The ocean we traversed turned ever warmer
As we grew ever closer
When I was a broken man
You were there for me
And you put my heart
Right where it belongs.
Nestled with the glittering elements,
I ponder the immortality of the senses—
my lucidity twirls,
as pirouetting flakes through
sapphire mist amidst cyanic windstorms,
drifting like arctic embers,
towards cerulean twilight skies,
beyond frost covered pains,
littered across glacial clouds that linger,
swirling upon an indigo iced cluster of
topaz teal stars,
enveloping my cobalt soul beneath your
cashmere caress—
we behold the wonder of an
opulent crescent moon,
cradling our kismet love, in
vows of our balsamic destiny, ever
sanctioning icebound purgatories
buried deep in our bones, in
flurry feathered snowfields,
guiding our
souls back home to our halcyon hereafters,
where I’ll sit throned as the
queen of blizzards,
wearing a crown of bleeding splinters.
In the valley
of violin vines,
when the saffron sun ascends,
and crooning clouds
drift in mulberry cadence,
I let my quivering quill harmonize
mystical moonbeams
splattered across
hushed horizons~
with sparkling strings
of stardust,
as ink paints a
panorama of primrose promises,
from spring scented
sonatas scattered
in symphonic hues
of sangria syllables,
thawing
frost-clutched fauna,
while butterflies flutter
amongst floating florals,
depicting whispers
of my hyacinth heartbeat.
But something about
the way sakura
blossoms fall like rain,
traces picturesque
lines of my
lyrical confessions,
composed like
a chromatic chorus,
that savors
kismet kisses,
of a love woven
with
twinkling
tendrils in
tangerine twilight,
and when you
return like
pirouetting jasmines,
I feel the
ambrosial aura
of Persephone
emerge from
the darkest
caves of Hades,
bringing back
empyrean euphoria,
and here I let
nature unfurl
a choir of
singing sunflowers
and waltzing wisterias,
performing
classical serenades,
amidst trumpet trees
sprouting ivory petals,
in dulcet idioms,
veiling toxic tales.
But today,
as rays of gold
adorn my skyline,
I think of tender truth
transcribed in
theatrical tunes,
like
zenith of zealous zephyr
eternally rippling
blue rose breeze
across Monet’s
balmy meadow.
Gazing across still waters
I sit and dream my day away
no ripples upon this glass mirrored lake
serene tranquility seeping within
Yet somewhere from the distance
a gentle sound wafts past my ears
my eyelids heavy slowly closing
whilst soaking up the atmosphere
I dream of dancers all in white
gossamer feathers are fluttering
and as I open up my eyes
in amazement...
suddenly swans
Gliding gracefully over the lake
pirouetting as their show begins
hundreds exquisitely take to the stage
for this their ballet is theirs to perform
The music begins to intoxicate
and the dancers entice me closer
sitting up high
Swan Lake I espy
Suddenly swans
serenade my soul...
Written 6th April 2019
Contest: Suddenly Swans
Date judged: 26th April 2019
no placement
Contest Name:Writing Challenge 4, May 2019, No Placement
Sponsor: Dear Heart
FIRST PLACE
Contest: Verse a favoured theme
Sponsor: Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
KISSING THE MOON
Twilight displays striations of multicolored light.
The shrewd sun and morose moon, begin to fight.
Amber spreads her net across the horizon of night.
Five minutes pass, and appears, a beautiful sprite,
pirouetting across the burgeoning couple’s plight,*
fanning out skirts of tourmaline tints, blushing spite –
rufescent. Soul reverberates, this explosion of might,
viewed through a woman’s eyes, so vivaciously bright.
The sun blows a kindred kiss, disappears out of sight,
as the giddy moon bids adieu in black and blue flight.
2/12/2017
*engagement of sun and moon
A nurse takes time
To hang a DNA rainbow strain
Of Christmas bulbs
Along my gray window ledge
He plugged them in
Bringing a campfire glow of embers
Under my lids
And to the shirking corners
And the inflating machines shushing the room
Below
In the cobblestone valley of downtown
Ballerinas of steam
Spin
From paper-pushed vents in the empty streets
Window shopping on Washington Square
Laces of faces and hands
Pressed to glass
Longing for suits at Kositcheks
Or gold and silver from Linn & Owen
Mists jaywalking
And flagging a cold evening of vacated taxis
I dream
Of taking my wife’s hand
Pirouetting her across a crowded floor
At the Green Door
To a band bellowing the flutes of Canned Heat
Flinging sweat again like bathers in an ocean
Kissing and hugging and ass grabbing
Elbows bent with Fireball shots
High-fiving
Imploring return to our basic instinct
The perfect gift
Of lust and love marked by our fingerprints.
in her star-stitched
s i l e n c e
she breathes ~
glass-winged h o p e
weaving angelic hymns
with lilac light
like a ballerina
draped in chiffon ~
pirouetting through poetry
amidst dusk kissed
by gloaming gold,
s w i r l i n g
origami spring
into a sky full
of paper planes
fleeting with
sakura secrets
serving the sinister
and serene
with citrine smoke
of seraphic dust…
so let l o v e rise
as the maternal Goddess
of nocturnal hours
she seeks
not the cursed
and crestfallen ~
familiar faces
masked
with jilted jasmines
and eagle feathers
lurking in
psychedelic shores
awaiting the downfall ~
like crashing comets
phasing upon the
lamented lighthouse
flickering
fickle flares
of pained
perspectives...
for the ones that sleep
in tree-high-retreats
counting frozen sparks
can never seize
as she is the
sunflower sigh
that dreams between
shifting colors
of azure leaves
a metaphor molded
from
the silver
of the moon’s ink
forgotten by thistles
and
thorns of t i m e ….