Long Potpourri Poems
Long Potpourri Poems. Below are the most popular long Potpourri by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Potpourri poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear Poetic War
I'm here to inform you to change your name to (War Shoe.)
Warlock doesn't even fit you!
I have many ways to insult you.
I have to play nice, can't you see all them evil eyes!
Poetic Warshoe the only talent you poses is the word LOCK!
No need to try and crush what you can not see
All you are is another loser who can't let me be.
You silly jail bird, you sound more like a game of Monopoly
Its my turn and I hold your ticket to get out of jail for free.
Don't worry Warlock, Board Walk is owned by me.
Washing your couplets down with a cup of tea.
I laughed so hard your words almost made me pee.
Warshoe, why are you jumping on me like a little flea?
The only stinger you have belongs to a bumble bee.
Poetic thug you are messing with the wrong killer bee
Sorry I told you I share my fate with Nate!
Go grab some more help from your psychotic mate.
Raid I will spray on your strategies you poetic bug.
You have no class to be a Warlock.
The only thing you master is being a poetic thug.
Go back to playing dominoes, cards, and chess.
Your poetry smells like potpourri.
My demons will hit you with an epic battle of success.
Hunting me is the way you want to waste commissary.
I will enslave you to worship the grounds my feet caress
Challenging me will be the best thing you've had in 5 years.
First I will send you this letter with a small request.
Look down first before you think you pushed me over the cliff.
I own the crown causing massive damage to your quest.
You will never dominate my battlegrounds, I will end you in a swiff.
Your sword will be conquered in my arena, bringing you down to a rest.
I will make you suffer begging for mercy and forgiveness.
For trying to step up to the best.
Warshoe you already failed my test.
In this game you will never beat me at my own contest.
Your heart I won't eat I will feed that to my guest.
Warshoe its time to rip you out of the shadows where you hide.
I will LOCK you in my WAR of hell.
Shackling you in a fetal position as we collide.
Your fear will spread for everyone to smell.
I will end your poetry with no pride.
I will post venom in your abyss through out your cell.
A poison so rough now bend over and open wide.
Warshoe by the time this is over you will bail.
And I P.D. will still have you under my spell......
by;P.D.
between new nightmares
and day dreams
of a better life
lay reality resurfaced
tight with taut brutality
unspeakable thoughts drift
down through time's flash
triggered not there
not then
but now and here
her mind digs through fear
as she sinks
slight form down
crisp skirt's rustle sound
folds with her
to ground
and she says to herself
I will lay here
in this hollow
it fits the curve of my spine
holds the shape
of my hips
and the grass padded earth
cups itself a little
around my waist
hugs me
till I sleep
I am still alive
I am dead
to the world
tar roads
pavements
are too hard
concrete
cannot hold me
the same way
they resist my shape
press flatness
hard
against me
leave me sore
unrested
complaints unheard
where may I sleep
With fragrance
of grass and earth
maybe
in a garden
a cultured space
thoughts arouse
aroma once known
from those past
yet still present
places
so pleasant
maybe then
I will fall into dreams
of painless light
sunshine will soothe
I will feel bright
flame red flowers
in free fall
Will not burn
as they engulf me
float from arms
branches
blue sky stretched
they will caress me
in potpourri perfume
memories mock
her senses
she yearns to block
their burn
when I sleep
I'll not smell
petrol fumes
flared up
I will not hear
the shudder of bodies
breaking down the door
I will forget
the screams
eardrums pierced
my own
I will not feel
my body burn
in hell hound fire
twisted hatred
from ordinary mothers
fathers sisters sons
bizarre beliefs
turned my skin
from brown silk smooth
to outlandish patches
pink and brown
how will I
become
familiar
with who I am
now
she falls asleep
dreams
of sunshine
tree shadow dappled
nature cradles her
in dark and light
she breathes low
drum sounds
bring her back
there
next to eyes
awakening
her fingers
delicate drummers
play the earth
With firm tips
tap tapping
a well known song
her long gone
mother's lullaby
hush my child
hush now
don't cry
sleep sweet
against my heart
hush now
hear the beats
of my love
for you
hush now
so angels
do not sigh
hum drum
hum drum
hum drum
she starts to cry
Posted:15-12-2018
Note: "Sister" poem to "thin skinned"
Potpourri Ghosts
Knock and a bang and a yell
Wake up to the call of the Halloween Ghosts!
My girls all in their teens dressed as witches with brooms cried loud with friends
Fill our decorated baskets with treats
The night is long and
All our ancestors souls are hungry
Fill our decorated baskets with treats
Tonight they want their grandest feast
Or they'll make your quivering hearts bleed
In the rivers of Hades!
A potpourri of sizes
In a masquerade planned
Over a month or two
Loudly order all.
My heart yearns for the fulfilment of their impish desires and silently pray
Pull up the blinders of your windows
You sleepy friendly neighbours
Lookout at all these angelic pumpkin heads
Wendy Witches, green goblins, cutest devils
Bold batmen religiously donning costumes
Ripping apart souls of normal wear.
Thus having tricked you
They joyously whisper at having
Spelt fear in the hearts of their muscled uncles and stern aunts
Proudly these little creepers
Jest pretending to be nocturnal predators
Of their elders hiding their uncontrolled smiles
Behind their guises of Halloween Night
Gamble baskety treats or a night to be tricked.
FIFTH
The October 24, 2015
Contest: Happy Halloween
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
O, I see you're coming back to Ella
of the Cedar's Tale, more and amore,
as she gets between your skin, like a beetle at bore.
Lang-wishing, fang-wishing her wiggle,
at open door stairs case on her forest floored.
This tales tail like a Cedar, mystery umm'biblical,
Laurel lining in-cyclicall of
Maples that get swathed,
in rainy season's roots spreading tows
in brackets math tables of shoots and ellipticals.
In shadows deep,
where whispers weep in the will o's
the shade desperately tries to cover
her in-seep of soil, like a tree snake in coil.
Ella of the Cedar, her name echoes clear,
a flame in hearts, dancing ever near.
The Cedar's Tale, algorithes, quickened, Time Ago.
A story sung where the wild winds blow.
Her spirit fierce, like a fire untamed,
a haunting melody, forever staking claim.
Lang-wishing, fang-wishing, the night's embrace,
unveiling enticing worlds with ethereal grace.
Her voice, a river of silk, in moonlight's glow,
imbued with sapporon, a delicate flow.
Washes a ways canopy, Kimono.
This ancient grove, where memories reside,
Ella of the Cedars, she'll forever abide.
Her resonance lingers, like a bittersweet sigh,
a poet's muse, beneath the moonlit beams
taking a bite of darkness in injection plunge and hallucinogenic strobe of light, slide.
So let us listen more, to Ella's whispered lore,
feel her essence as it stirs us to the core-
occupying like a lush dream.
In her words, emotions seam to adorn,
a garden of feelings, once in dormant sea,
now align with the O Pines scent of new winds whip of greenery creams to soothe like a suave poultice of potpourri over the mind pine al g land ent C.
In every verse, a wish song''s awakening,
sultry synthesis,
a bud delicately reaching for the light,
in a chamber of trembling treble,
naughtiness probing.
Lyrics to linger, imprinted deep,
like the rings of a tree as
counting your time of bondage..
Stirring souls,
harvesting their reap and frontage
of fond-agery.
The story continues beneath
the eventuality of hopes chest
pounding, hearts in the surrounding raw,
pump of primal, Forest maw.
Ella sets her sights...
This potpourri is a redolent of our sweet memories
When you and I happily shared our love under those deciduous trees
Those fragrant petals and autumn leaves were gathered for you to keep
Bear in mind that my love for you will never fade; but, it’ll run so deep.
You will always be in my thoughts while I’m away
When I’m in the battlefield, you’ll always be in my heart to stay
You’ll be the source of my valor, strength and hope to be alive
You’re the only reason why I always dream to survive.
I’ll always remember those blissful moments when I’m with you
You always prepare my breakfast - one of the sweetest things you do
In our dining room, before you serve the meal for me
Center table is adorned with our sweet potpourri.
Oh, how lovely to see you one morning upon waking up
Your beauty I adore is celebrated outside in musical chirrups
In your beige hat, nice dress in billowing skirt with petticoat you wear
With your sister, those sweet potpourri – you lovingly share
Dining room was entirely filled with a morning grace
When sunshine peeps through the window pane, I see a glow on your face
An enlightenment I feel, for I know your melancholy soon to vanish
When the curtains wave, I’m here my love -- don’t feel any anguish.
The picture of you, I paint it enormously in my mind and heart
When the sky dims, it will be my only hope to look at
As every bit of tiny leaves and petals dispel their fragrance into the air
Inhale and feel deep in your heart my everlasting love and care.
June 9, 2013 5. 10pm
Note:
This is a poem dedicated to George Dunlop Leslie. He is really one of the great painters. I admire him and I’m so impressed with his awesome paintings. I thank our dear friend, Isaiah for sharing him with us /me and his works. He truly inspired me to write this poem especially by one of his paintings, Potpourri. I imagined myself as the lady on his painting. i: )))))
First Place
Contest: Any Poem Goes
Judged: 6/19/13
Sponsor: Poet Skat
Second Place
Contest: George Dunlop Leslie (Choose a title from one of his paintings)
Judged: 6/17/13
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Is there a memo motionless meaning that co considers
the let me know not the in between time of soul space that swells
spit in time and all things youless and common/uncommon in a new raw
omniplural potpourri vs a humnopre-salient cap-able anti
impractical public a anonoymous -----let it be the me behind
the windless wheel well of counter culture communation happy
ig no rant dance given to adulto frown friends with no
inner countenance to the opposite of their children's
heretofore genetic anaglous inheritenance, happenstance with the all degradratory of who's who on first impractical **** annoyance given to parentosociosuck prevelances.
Let it be me and my behold every endurance
behind the wishless wheel wonders like stale bread kisses that
will leave a bastard/***** beholding another ever unpresent illego negligent
my me mine me behind--as an ever ill gotten gain gopher behold!!
I offer no ill indifference to a an **** ego indifference, as it wanes itself
in an annotated post partum parental quandary with all of the estrogenous misgivings that minus all of our copious relative holiday misgivings; hope/love/angst/fear/fake fornication that co comprise our inner grasp gasp being to err offend everyone in our inner nature neighborhood never openly negative of your own offspring offerings as they relate to your perfectly PC credentialed crassness of age coinciding with the
all year round as life asked of us relatives to/fro in/out closed/open/in/out/add/subtract/distract, ect, ect, ect,.
Far from first inner circle seconds included and removed offended defended included/excluded as to their proper "tudes" to be later revealed related as to a toddler tranquil trance perfectly placed belovedly behind a two tone parental (irr)rational regal rememberance
that reveals a riviteing rancid rationale reward right vs mostly wrong.
Matching sibiling ill will/deeds and useless non needs can lead to a covert cancer covered man-nipulates meanlip measures of misgotten memories factly misered measured mandates. Welcome my friends to the drone that never ends, human race, human race; youngins' all youngins' all.
taking an early walk along the shore
awaiting for the royal entrance of the new day
through His Love Divine---
I hear the whisper of the cold and gentle wind into my ears saying:
the arrival of your majestic prince of the universe has now begun
excitements I feel deep down in my heart
giving a fleeting glimpse at the side of the ocean
there lies the long ranges of mountain-tops
seems as if they hide him from me
giving me suspense on his final exquisite appearance
as the ebbs move gracefully on their way back…
carpeting his path
waves all arise welcoming him with their loveliest prelude
the cold breeze gently wafts the perfumes as peaceful as they could
a scent of the blue ocean-potpourri
filling the air up to the clouds then down to my mood
as my prince finally ascends unto the clear sky
through his radiant rays he sends me right away his glowing smiles
descending his loving touch mellowed by God’s Loving Embraces
from my face creeping down to my whole being
all I feel is his warmth: an assurance that forever He cares
a very wonderful feeling I can’t explain
I close my eyes and raise my gentle face towards his rays
trying to absorb all the blessings and graces he brings
Oh, what a great and wonderful feeling!
keeping still my chin up on high
exposing to him my rosy cheeked face as I close my eyes
then I protrude my lips
As I want to finally feel my Prince Sun’s warmest kiss
a kiss of my Darling Sunshine
a sweet kiss of love
the greatest and eternal love
from up above
Feb. 9, 2013 2.30pm
Note:
I love sunshine! My father gave me a ring when I was still young engraved with words Darling Sunshine because according to him I was born during sunrise. I lost the ring when I was staying in a dormitory as a student.
Sixth Place
Contest: Verse Poems
Judged: 3/12/2013
Sponsor: Poet Nathan A
Third Place
Contest: A Kiss of Sunshine
Judged: 3/25/2013
Sponsor: Poet Gail Angel Doyle
First Place
Contest: In Honor of my Fave Poem
Judged: 4/11/2013
Sponsor: Poet Andrea Dietrich
The blood and lapis daylight sets
in ether. How the mind resets
brutality of winter chill
with February's codicil;
what gossamer a dream begets.
I hear the crickets in the dark,
their clicking takes up where the lark
has been. The flagrant marigolds
have huddled into twilight's folds,
on sanguine nightfall to embark.
The eastern zephyrs fall and rise
with rapid movement of my eyes
and echo whispers midnight makes
of blood white trails on moonlit lakes.
In silhouette I recognize
a dogwood, though can only sense
its glowing coral consequence.
The blossoms tell me they comprise
sweet spawn of sun rays in disguise
and capture all my heartbeats hence.
Now honeysuckle is entwined
on crisscrossed pathways of my mind
with jasmine in a potpourri
to conjure shamrock reverie
that leaves the pewter scape behind.
Around the lambent dogwood tree
alone upon that verdant lea
buds can prosper, bees will hum.
As though seduced by opium
I greet a vista I can't see,
at least not quite. I know it's there
and feel the dogwood everywhere,
behind me, flanking left and right,
an omnipresence in the night,
like answers to unconscious prayer.
Now high upon a clovered scarp
the tree is standing clear and sharp.
In silence I see restless blooms
play music that my ear assumes
is chiming dulcet as a harp.
Such Efflorescent star bursts splay
like windmills on a gusty day
that in ebullience do portend
a vibrance that will never end
and all my reticence allay.
In waking to a winter storm
that's February's gelid norm
I long still for my fulgid tree,
resplendence that surrounded me,
but only meet a turbid swarm.
I rise and pull back hermit drapes
to see the torrid flurries traipse,
yet through the chaos can discern
the leafless frame for which I yearn
beyond the window storming scrapes.
The dogwood stands just as before
unclad upon the icy moor
with nascent berries undeterred
as though through humble verse and word
like daylight through an unclosed door.
2/23/18
Strength Thru Adversity
Gregory R. Barden
our Spring was a whirlwind of newness
learning our emotions
exploring the worlds we were
that had left their long-held orbits
as we began a dance among the stars
in each other's arms spinning thru galaxies
never losing the gravity in each other's eyes
we then burst into the fullness of Summer
idle days as companions upon a trail
each step brought us deeper into fruition
a fullness of an accrued life
we had reaped the orchards offerings
swung the scythe in union
as fields of wants and needs were harvested
now we sit on a bench
as everything begins to come to rest
it is our Autumn
holding your hand, the age spots
are now a part of what was pure alabaster
still, the precious cup
my cheek holds in reverence
when you guide my gaze into yours
the skin has folded a bit
here and there
condensing years of accruing love
pouring inward to an ever-growing heart
time has been good to us
a love that has grown deeper
its roots match the canopy
joy hangs from the branches
rooted in the happiness below
we are the strong oak
a love was borne in a single acorn
what we have is the most precious gift
our singularity in the devotion we have
for each other
what we share deepest in those roots
is knowing these seasons are but
life in the garden to come
there are still times when our lips meet
i have those butterflies
still, times as i peer thru those roses
you grace our special evening meal with
you are red and i am pink
i skip a breath
the heart races an extra beat
i breathe in the potpourri she has become
i still read to her poetry on that bench
where we first began
i have never wavered in my intent
each poem has but one purpose
to win her heart, again and again
the never-ending story of my love for her
children still lost in the magic
2/1/19 Kismet
Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and extraordinary part of the lives we live. ? Nora Roberts, Charmed
back a small number of years thee diva of this domicile
exhibited an aura, charisma, enigma…devoid of any guile
boot of late turned a cold shoulder to me and I’ll
avoid denigrating, haranguing, and lambasting said dell lisle
la, whose avoidance behavior toward me – who goes a mile
out of her way to ensure our paths do not cross – noah din nile
per the above – well, perhaps a slight bit of hyperbole
viz this, mine swift tailored, harried style
per potpourri of puzzling perturbation evinced
by said olde world germane German dame we lease this duplex
treating us, as if we committed some egregious crime
subsequently forced to stand trial
viz aversion toward this convivial, frivolous and introspective chap
methinks said realtor/renter joined a coven den
where doe eyed zen of thieves
occupy teaching rubric of mean-ness while
taking appropriate and selective pages from play book of sarah palin,
which tension unlikely to cease for the next nine months till the deed
doth expire, where by this witch a taw hook cans ass (ours) will be freed
of renting a long and fostered, roach and fox infested, century21
from once salient sympathetic ear this now manifested Scrooge like greed
reminding us (essentially via cessation of any interaction),
how she once did heed
to our various and sundry travails – though neither myself nor spouse,
the latter whose vociferousness regularly exudes loathsomeness
toward key per, once a vouch saving storied angel without fail and indeed
wife tis not shy to vent where a plethora of expletives lead
rant and rave toward an impending crisis that will me send out an SOS
ever felt compelled to join Hemlock society or drown sorrows in mead
yet disappointment arises, when formerly positive dynamic now im peed
did by reasons unbeknownst to me,
who feels grateful ye chanced to read
my babbling of poetically irrational from a regular Joe,
who doth not sport Harris Tweed
nor (despite any immediate intimations)
doth newt smoke booze nor drink week.