Long Poetess Poems
Long Poetess Poems. Below are the most popular long Poetess by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poetess poems by poem length and keyword.
1. THE STORM
COPYRIGHT-POETESS-ANJALI DENANDI,MOM
The storm - from where, it comes
Why - comes, it ? Where, it goes ?
When - it came first ?
Forever it goes and comes
Has it any good effect ? Who knows ?
Destroy ! Just destroy ! Just- ! Must !
The nature becomes calm -
All know - it is the before stage of storm !
Oh! Fear ! The nest thinks - on the tree palm !
The storm has no own form ;
Yet - it has very strong action !
Which can break the mother's emotion !
Lives become hopeless by it !
Forever It can stop the heart beat !
Branches never come back as alive !
The buds and baby-birds never come back !
But the storm returns again and again ...!
Bee-eggs never come back -
But after storm - again bees build the hive !
Though trees feel pain -
Yet - branches , buds come back again !
The new branches , buds , baby-birds , eggs -
Take place on the empty places -
The new nests become happy again !
Cont’d
But no kindness of the storm's invisible legs ,
These always break the sweet dreams !
For these bad works - the storm feels the happiness !
To the storm - who blesses ? ! -
Try - in minds - for own love placings !
Oh ! The storm ! What do you mean ? ! -
Now - find and think about blessings !
Yes ! Yes ! Yes ! - - -
Be the well wisher of the nature ! Please !
Not destroys - creations are the lives - keys !
In front good works - down your knees !
Know - follow - who is your creator ? Who is ---
2. AN AIRY AFTERNOON
COPYRIGHT-POETESS- ANJALI DENANDI,MOM
In an airy afternoon-
I float by my little boat, on river-
Smiles, on sky, the silent moon-
I gift it my loving-look, from very far!
Waves touch my feet, which are naked;
These waves are too busy-
These never come back!
Some very little children, they are naked,
They enjoy around my boat, I see and see---
And eat pop-corn from my jute's sack;
Fishes are seen sometimes on open air-
Again hide in deep water;
My white sail- is in joy of freedom!
I reach very far from my little home!
My pets, my dog and my talking parrot,
Freely walk on my happy boat;
I call,"Hey! Children! Come here!
Yes! Please! Stand on my side;"
They do, like my speech!
Then go and on a big horse, they ride!
Which stands on bank, without speech!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are directly connected
to his or her heart.
What's truly seen and then seeks expression
is where poems do get their first start!
All human kind has a pair of eyes
and though open may not actually see,
certain conditions that may prompt a poet
to express them
with word artistry!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are similar to a potter or sculptor
who take an unshaped form,
and with vision and determination
they are guided,
by hand,
to mold, create and transform!
We do this very same act with words
and a heartfelt desire to say,
words that will touch,
also transform the reader
in a unique poetic way!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
see this world in a way unlike any other.
They see the unseen,
send this vision to the heart,
with need to use words to uncover...
"truths" that can only be conveyed
by the poetic words that are written,
because we know
that through this poetic expression
we are also helplessly smitten!
"The Eyes Of A Poet"
are a truly gifted glimpse
into life and it's myriad conditions,
to express what is seen,
and felt and heard and done
with poetic compositions!
Every word expresses the heart!
We've something to say
and we know it!
Keep writing and know
that this gift of expression
comes from
"The Eyes Of A Poet!"
WTA-IV 3/21/2016
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
Dedicated to my darling Mystic Rose...
For my everlasting rose,
for my darling Mystic Rose,
Charished deep in my heart,
for generations to last lifetimes,
on this Beautiful gift,
we all call Mother Earth.
Oh now my dear
come now and do not fear,
I shall take you by your sweet and loving hand,
as we set out in a band,
of two lonely hearts
that both need to be loved.
At first when I came
to this desolate Wasteland;
I was a lonely heart
with poetry that was my art.
You were the first to come to me,
with a smile and a hug.
You read my work,
I won your heart
and you praised me,
looked at me in anew
and treated me diffrently than any other.
My darling Mystic,
Oh how you make me feel;
so grand, so new, so happy.
As I lay my head to rest
I reminisce on your loving words,
that spoke such truth to my soul.
As you praised me through my heights,
and weaped with me through my sorrow,
as I uplifted your soul with the arrangement of words
I wrote from deep down in my weak and weary soul;
You were there always to touch my heart
and cure me of sorrowed tears.
It is impossible to express my love for you,
but see me, to feel my love,
for you my darling Mystic
it tears me apart to not
see your face, to hear your voice,
only to read your loving words
comments on a poem
that was written on a page;
It tears me apart.
Oh, my sweet and everlasting rose,
Blooming in every season,
at every hour,
a beautiful poetess at her midst of an evening twilight
as the nightingales sing outside your window,
I come and show you love and compassion.
Let us go, you and I,
I take you by your hand
and we sail off,
two poets writing of beauty
both in ink upon a blank piece of paper.
To write of love,
My compassion for you
my beautiful rose,
my darlin Mystic.
We shall part seas,
bloom in gardens of beauty,
roses and violets grow tall
around us,
reminding us of our everlasting friendship.
Lilacs and tulups stray long away,
to show my love to a stranger,
but you are no stranger to me.
You are an everlasting rose,
which blooms evertime at the stroke of nine,
and there you stay,
growing in a large and beautiful garden,
that is located deep in my heart.
Now take me, my darling Mystic
your LoveSlayer,
and charish this beautiful write
Charish it at all times,
every hour of the days!
In honour of your beauty and inspiration
I am a fool in love,
intoxicated with your beauty at heart.
Even Dawn Cried About Death Of The Poet
They that see dawn in softest crimson glows
Having sought to embrace the golden moon!
They that ink paradise as a true gift,
Sings praises of the gentle month of June!
Whilst feeding at midnight the hungry crows
Sometimes with iron, and with eager breath
Oft each stands alone, watching dark world turn
Then she that inks paradise as a gift,
With compassion, romantic flames that burn
Wrote faithfully, even unto her death!
Dawn that foretells of living and true love
Helplessly seen as the poetess died
Cast its brightest rays to heaven above
So angels could see how too few cried!
R.J. Lindley, Jan 25th, 1987
*******
Dare We Pray, Humanity Wakes To Be Redeemed
From blacken hills into magical woods we wade
Where golden mushrooms ring shrouds of ancient trees
Praise God, that this earth and humanity he made
Although from great divine wrath it so often flees
In morn's mist, airy shadows rise and slowly fall
'neath hopeful promise of resplendent future state
Whilst those ever beckoning hills heed Nature's calls
Same as man bows to ravages of horrid Fate.
Therein comes immense pleasures of paradise dreams
Too often laced with folly of human schemes
Were it not that love may gift that which hope redeems?
Aye. Love and pleasure are as candy to a child
And thus sweet blessings flow unto those meek and mild
Whereas thistles and thorns pierce deeply those too wild.
Dare we pray, humanity wakes to be redeemed
From evil wickedness, that mankind daily schemes?
R.J. Lindley, March 6th, 1987
Rhyme
*******
From The Virgin Light Into The Dark Mist
There within such immensity of solitude
Rests a billion threads but a sad solitary thought
Of life, earth and barest naked soul therein nude
In worldly prison, dying entity thus caught.
Oh but, tis not that tragedy our daily bread
Fodder for rampaging fires eternally lit
We but sacrifice for those gods long ago dead,
And bawling mass for Hades and its burning pits?
Tis not mankind a true enigma and a bit more
Far, far more than a fallen fly in the hot soup
Once stuck down below but by own hand now can soar
Risen up by vicious might in one dark fell swoop ?
Aye! One may fear to such reality admit
As it leads backward, to thoughts of hot burning pits!
R.J. Lindley, March 22nd, 1987
Rhyme
As mortal veils dissolved, our bodies merged in the ossuary's somber symphonies, two mistress awakened by the velvet-wrapped cadavers, our disinvested hands tracing syllabic patterns across the olive verdure of our skin, as maelstroms of lipstick tormented our intimate geometry. Kissing amidst ribcages and scavenged lullabies, our filial ***** tingled with an unresolved finitude, lost choruses awaking from armature wounds as compatibilities laid bare.
The azure gemstones of our sweat-drenched pores harmonized with the relics scattered about us, a Kolossus of Korova consumed by the clingy threads of our detachment. Quivering heartbeats elevated the ambiance, suspending the predisposition of neglect, while scratches on the cryptic monument inscribed our entwined destiny. I sulfured lips, poised at the sorceress-close mic.
A snarl-like grin spread like a firebrand, smoldering with provocative ferocity as I ravished the venue with tongue-flicked promises, conjuring the haunted echoes of our ecstatic love. Ghosts of our abandoning, whispers of our surrendered reveries, and shadowy allusions to lost frenzies began to undulate, like an eerie tide, through every crevice and cavity of the place, leaving only the acrid tang of our desire and the spectral whisper of "evermore".
Laughter and teardrops entwined like conspirators, as our kidnapped captives, vacant-eyed and warily bound, cringed within their gilded cages, their suffocated pleas dissolving into silken suppliance, amidst this twilight tableaux pyxis o madness, we beheld each other, our psuches conflated in a whirlwind of circumstance and whimsy, our gazes piercing the veil of regalities, and our breasts, beating in tandem, like a tempo of tender complicity.
Fore in that golden instant, innocence and abomination, zero and infinity, coalesced, and we knew, without equivocation, that ours was an amour born of estrangement, grotesquery, and co-creativity. In the subterranean realm of our laughter, a spangled whirlpool stirred, drawing all else, including reason, into its poisoned vortex, as we whispered, like doomed refugees, into the bitter wind, "pour l'amour de tous les diables".
Fervently the serrated teeth on the saw rang the death knell, twisting countenance rictus, then close casket, we heard wedding bells, as we crafted a hellhole requiem of faceless visages.
Boom.
You never cease to amaze me with your powerful, awesome poetry
It fades away my depression and anxiety as my fretfulness and fears dissipate
You never please evilness and malice in your words of peaceful liberty
You throw shades at negativity and uplift with your positivity with your words of shameless love and no hate
Your state of mind is extremely, purely surreal and beautiful
You’re a poetess of plenty of wise words from high above
You never hesitate to shine bright, straight from your precious soul
You’re a progress marked with unconditional love
These teardrops are meant to fall, but all and all,
They fall away just like my disarray and dismay this shimmering May
The moment I saw your words, I stand oh so tall
Your unique forgiveness is a shimmering sea in my mind’s eye today
These torn-up teardrops were meant to fall
The moment my silly, foolish heart fell almost apart
But, sorrow from within faded away after all
You restored grace and hope to my verses from the start
I weep rivers of radiance, rolling around in the deep
The afternoons and nights spent with me, reading your lines of poetic passion
I cry away the tears of hopelessness that I do reap
The tunes of heaven’s heights couldn’t get higher the moments I witness your compassion
These teardrops were meant to fall, I’m meant to stand tall and all
And rise up like the sun-drenched sunrise minutes after dawn
You turned my grief into happiness and made me tread the hopeful hall
And I will climb mountains and roam forests to move on
You never fail to amaze me with your play with words so clever and sweet
You never make me feel disappointed and deceived by your poetry’s pensive, positively provident beat
This is my delightful dedication to your poems of peace that diminishes the chaotic dread
This is my inspirational, motivational words for you to be hopeful and happy for what lies ahead
Thank you for all you do by sharing your genuine, genius grace
It’s awe-inspiring, jubilant people like you that make this life’s race
Worth running for, worth keeping my steady, yet swift pace
I can’t help but adore this everlasting joy in my heart and it’s like a much-needed, family-fervent embrace!
- this poem is dedicated to my awesome poetess friend on Facebook, Lora Lee, who writes wondrous words in poetic form. I wrote this poem at work today.
A "Highly" Debated Issue
From glaucoma to chemotherapy
Medical marijuana has its place
But you won’t find any prescribed
In the conservative Sunshine State
Chris couldn’t eat while under treatment
Watched him lose one-hundred pounds
He had no access to an appetite stimulant
His weight was 85 when laid in the ground
Hefty Jen had lived a life of kindness
Taught spiritually uplifting courses
She suffered when chemo raced through her system
Until people said, “How beautifully slim her corpse is.”
When Dad’s glaucoma grew severe
He relied only on eye drops that made him tear
His gift of sight was taken slowly
Though THC might have helped his eyes clear
And when I first wrestled with ulcerative colitis
A college friend brought me a joint, said, “Try it”
Less than an hour later I was eating without pain
But laws are clear, Florida doctors can’t prescribe it
Research has proved there are benefits
Only medical marijuana use can provide
But those who worry about drug abuse
Say those who could benefit should be denied
Each day in the headlines we read of drunk drivers
Mostly teens who seek access through friends
And if they want marijuana, they find a way to get it
But for those who abide by laws, agony never ends
If smoking pot or ingesting a tablet of THC
Can help a person who is suffering great pain
Don’t you think the time has come
To ask prohibitionists to explain
Why people who are hurting needlessly
Cannot have access to any remedy
That soothes their aches, improves their last days
Diminishing the symptoms of their tragedy
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Why I love C.D’s poem “ A Highly Debated Issue”:
Carolyn Devonshire’s poems showcase the extraordinary thoughtful mind behind those lines. All of Carolyn’s poems are profound, and full of depth, but this poem especially touched me - I had the similar experience of losing a beloved one to the deadly disease, and we were not able to give him relief during the last days of intense pain. Carolyn was a strong, sensitive, generous, caring human being and a talented poetess, who loved life in her own way - she loved sand, and left her footprints on the shores of this mysterious earth.
Celebrating Carolyn’s poetry: an Uncontest Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Part One of Two
Mary Elizabeth Frye Dedication Poems, Seventh Poet Honored
Part One
(1.)
Graveyard Visit, Seeing Death's Saddest Truth
Walking rows of silent tombstones that litter in my head
I see far more than just faces of buried ancient dead
I see epic battles some lost and long journeys some made
I see long lines trekking through hell's gate as if on parade!
Lo! Great and dooming are the vain vanities of mankind
Blindness, racing ahead not seen they are falling behind
Appetites for darkness and immense greed, they think are needs
They indulge lusts, oft by making innocent humans bleed!
Alas! Dark lust, evil culprit, deeply woven within
Tempting powers grown massively by rewards of past sins
As these ghosts cry out their sorrowful and tragic tales
I hear in not too distant background, hell's loud ringing bells!
As I bid one and all a merry and thoughtful goodbye
Into one great crowd they gathered, all with tearful sad eyes!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-11-2019
Sonnet, ( Man, As The Sad And Fallen Creature)
Dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Frye, poet dedication series.
Mary Elizabeth Frye dedication poem
(2.)
Those Deep Moaning About Life's Many Curses, Its Hardest Hits
Those that beg for Herculean body and Socratic mind
I pray reading these verses you think them not too, too unkind
Nothing bad about imagination and cherished desires
Such is mighty fuel that kindles ambition's hottest fires!
Those caring about not being fleet of foot and stout of heart
Or beautiful in appearance and raving as genius smart
Fear not, for such gifts of flesh are but foolish fantasy gold
Too oft disappearing when your human container grows old!
Those deep moaning about life's many curses, its hardest hits
Wading in its nasty cesspools, and in its blackest of pits
Be of good cheer, if your blind soul can accept these wizened words
Open your eyes, sing about love, stop tramping along in herds.
So you got cherished Herculean body, Socratic mind
Have fun stumbling through miserable life while still stone-cold blind!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-19-2019
Sonnet in Fifteen, ( Truth About Man As A Fallen creature)
dedicated to Mary Elizabeth Fyre, poets dedication series.
Syllables Per Line: 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15
Total # Syllables: 210
Total # # Words: 142
Oh hello there! Again!
Aah!
Yes!
You there!
Such lovely young pretty plaything, a female?
I presume?
With the beautiful expensive suit!
I am just seeing you there like a dream of crimson and horror!
Oh sorry!
At my age, your mind starts to wander.
And a Wanderer I am!
A wanderer in pursuit!
Where are you going my dear,
boy or girl I don’t care.
Can I follow you there?
I stay very near?!
Oh don’t mind me, I’m just a wanderer you see!
I am just bringing light to the world
a bringer of light a bearer of sight if you will.
Oh is it?
Is true you just live down the avenue?
I see!
Can I walk with you a little, please?
This is a mighty fine place you have here,
a beautiful quaint little town,
quaint and clear…
all nestled back in the valley.
Hummm!
Yes. Indeed!
No one can hear you screa-rrr-I mean
no one can hear you in a quaint little place!
What is that?
Oh!
Yes! Indeed!
I’m sorry you may be worried
but don’t you fear I’m quite harmless,
don’t you see?
What are you seeing?
Oh, that!
that’s just ravens wings
tucked neatly near a bone-white spine
and onyx claws!
Nothing to see, here…
Oh, my fingers?
Oh so long, sleek sharp like razors
strong to rip you apart.
Sorry sorry, pardon me!
No need to run!
No need to struggle
Daggers slicing your flash!
Oh! I’m sorry did I mean to hurt you!
I am just passing through a wanderer you see.
A light bringer of fire and rage!
On my way to the Detonation Fields
Feeling my way through this blasted world.
Laughing at the powers that be!
Wait for the wormwood to fly…
Oh! Don’t worry about me!
Can’t you see I’m not staying,
just passing through!
I bring you fear and loathing.
But don’t you worry
I am everything!
Everywhere!
I know you are alone
but come closer,
a little closer,
please.
So, I can see you in this empirical twilight.
No need to struggle….
My fingers are strong, indeed…
Tightening, as you struggle to breathe
Can’t you speak?
No, I guess your crimson mouth speaks,
NOT!
Don’t struggle so…
I’m just a wanderer, you know…
I have such sights to show…
So come with me to the Holocaust!
Can you feel the infernos heat…
Hear the damned scream.
Sweet music!
Don’t you hear it too?
OH, sooooo sweet!
Ah YES!
Yes…
indeed.