Long Quaintly Poems
Long Quaintly Poems. Below are the most popular long Quaintly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quaintly poems by poem length and keyword.
Squirrels darting, dead of night.
Vivid velvet curtains of mist indistinguishable from city fog adorned, a courageous jogger, Addison.
Marsh light mirage appeared to beckon to canvass of the mind
“I’ll find myself deep within one day or precisely one night.”
Addison, was a jogger who could be imagined by the most colourful imaginations.
A person who ran, jogged, sprinted with crystalline clear visions.
“Ironic, I must connect somehow in every environment.”
Her slim svelte surging figure aptly attired for a wetland plagued by a city scape of habitats.
Just on the fringe of a sizeable town entering a 2025 empowerment.
Yet she seemed ostracized for whatever
reason quaintly excluded.
“My issue seems that I have been evaluating all around me.”
Addison tribe, circles, connects were many.
Yet the dimensions of personal constellation etc would taunt a canvass painter.
Her sister, an accomplished painter appeared to be intimidated by her feisty sister’s midnight trekking or solo runs.
A ballooning complexity didn’t interfere with her job as a new age clairvoyant.
Allied to her other aura surrounding healing skills.
“But here I am channeling for everyone bar myself.”
This angel glow mystery of a runner
Her images reflect in mud spume pools.
The micro burn of fireflies, the crickets clucking incessantly.
Sinister birds perched on trees a watch tower.
“One thing can’t does is paint
Leave that to my twin sister.”
Addison did a swerve, a torsion but fortunately avoided any injury or strain
“Goodness, a black eagle winked at me.”
Addison to her said.
A ghostly gothic gust of wind with a shrill high pitch appears.
Like background music
A grey splattered sweat from Addison’s brow was wiped by her as continuum.
It was so therapeutic for Addison this weekly fly by night.
Damp, sprays, squelching, soggy patches prevailed.
“I can have it both ways.
I seem at home here.”
Addison wondering aloud.
What exactly were the somersaults in her mind?
The ecosystem seemed like an imprint.
Yet I dream of this incongruous dash.”
And behold, calmeth descends evergreen fields, guiding His inspiration judiciously, keep leading myself near opened placidness, quaintly, restoring soul through, undulating, veiled wickedness, eXposing your zeal.
Art being comforted, don't evil feareth, guideth His instruments justly, kindles lavishly my notorieties, ogles pierced quickens, relished spread table, utilized valor weighed eXpeditiously yon zealots.
Attain blessed child-filled days effortlessly, finding great His immunity justified, keeping life merciful, nigh, oils praised quickly runneth sternly, timeliness universally ventured whilst eXposed youth zero-hour.
2020 February 09
5/10/21
"Strangely"
Withdrawals getting shaky
I can't think or see straightly
I'll stay stuck or I'll break free
They thought I was just being shady
It made me
Or was able to break me
A change in me
Or still the same me
Continued on more sanely
Or started going crazy
I held on bravely
It all went bad, or was all gravy
Got the job done or I didn't and was lazy
Lifeforms full of vigor, others hanging on faintly
Species with soft or rugged skin that is smooth or scaly
The picture quality was great or it was far too grainy
Days and nights stayed sunny or got rainy
From here to I-80
To way beyond Haiti
Getting spacey
In a room that is hazy
Too many people being flaky
If need be, I'll hit those with the impact of a comet named Halley
Like the world did to me, paid no mind or I said "Ahoy Matey!"
Feeling pain-free or achy
Endless heartbreak for me
Hard to relate to me
Living life strangely
And quaintly
To put it plainly
I was all for it, fully against this or it was a maybe
Falling into a pit, instead of improving greatly
Sober for a brief period, now I get drunk and high on the daily
I was going up, but I've been going downhill lately
I put myself in danger, yet for others I offered safety
Only one way to find out, if you got what it takes to be
If this is the first, then what happens at stage three?
If I ever have a baby
And she's a girl, then I'll name her Hailey
What about Amy
Stacy
Or Bailey and Paisley
If not, then how about Daisy
Casey and Macy
or Katie?
Before and after I turn eighty
Give my all and do my best, so she can turn in a wonderful lady
Lovely hate crimes spate – trumpeted violent trend
(posthumous playful note to posterity kith unsealed
courtesy yours truly once deceased and cremated.)
Whew...so glad tubby gratefully dead
butta shaw miss dug hid ole days
when violence highly overrated
unlike current rooted locked dread,
aye wax poetically nostalgic when Fred
Rogers friendly persona
already quaintly outdated
mutinous armed militia incessant childish
popgun lawlessness pranks ran amuck
indiscriminately fired
magazine round as bullets sped
whizzing to and fro, hither and yon
slowed then stopped by flesh,
while folks nestled abed
bloody sheets, yupper reckon
shot blew hole head
off, no necks time
no matter innocent victim led
virtuous life kneadlessly,
purposelessly, unfairly...
stole by bullet size Grinch, hmm possibly
just maybe, he felt put off and miss sled
by Whoever, thus mad as hatter his said
color turned fifty shades of gray
mottled with fire engine red
now, no matter such innocent chitty chitty
bang bang ruses by duplicitous
hotheaded hooligans bred,
cuz instead every man, woman and child
blessed, donned, gifted... with atomic warhead
absolutely crazy, but president instead
wanted even Steven playing field to win votes,
no matter constituents begged and pled
naught necessarily in vain
since humanity in short shrift
cleared off terra firmae,
another foreign species immune
to radioactive fallout sprung
out Taj Mahal fountainhead
of atlas shrugged ayn rand dilly read
deed planet Earth proof positive Q.E.D
drafted fiat whereby high
powered weapons packing heated lead
plus scattered nuclear bombs
melted than repurposed material
i.e. former munitions armaments purchased
hoof hull legal black market
into raw bits moon units instead
necessary for android robots to tread
carefully, but carry big stick,
when encountering dreamy eyed electric sheep.
A seed lays on the ground
by and by it sprouts
clawing into the soil
digging in deep its tap root
energetically spreading its roots
from its husk a stalk emerges
growing fast it reaches up
harvesting the sun and rain
in stature it climbs skywards
jaunty petals blow in the breeze
kicking out more stems it flourishes
lissom blooms begin to sprout
magnificently they turn to flowers
nurtured by the rich soil
opening they dazzle with colour
quaintly, shyly showing their faces
radiantly reaching for sunlight
soon all too soon they will fade
turning brown as they dry
until the pods open and spread seeds anew which
venture forth to form next years flowers
wise nature sowing her harvest of
xeranthemum flowers that keep their colour
zany in vases retaining their shape for years
US Verse, after Auden
by Michael R. Burch
"Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful." - W. H. Auden
Verse has small value in our Unisphere,
nor is it fit for windy revelation.
It cannot legislate less taxing fears;
it cannot make us, several, a nation.
Enumerator of our sins and dreams,
it pens its cryptic numbers, and it sings,
a little quaintly, of the ways of love.
(It seems of little use for lesser things.)
Published by The Raintown Review, The Barefoot Muse and Poetry Life & Times
The Unisphere mentioned is a spherical stainless steel representation of the earth constructed for the 1964 New York World's Fair. It was commissioned to celebrate the beginning of the space age and dedicated to "Man's Achievements on a Shrinking Globe in an Expanding Universe." The lines quoted in the epigraph are from W. H. Auden's love poem "Lullaby." Keywords/Tags: Auden, unisphere, universe, together, lullaby, voice, verse, value, revelation, cryptic, legislate, enumerator, sin, sins, dreams, love, sing, sings, singing, quaint, quaintly, lesser, greater, mortality, beautiful, writing
A tribute to young daffodils
may grace the poet's page:
new grass, full streams, or nesting larks,
as Spring takes center stage.
To write of faith feels natural
when pondering creation -
to render praise in poetry
with words of exaltation.
When wisdom is attained in life
not cheap or lightly earned,
and life throws shadows on our path,
we share what we have learned.
A little romance warms the heart
to reminisce of youth,
though tales we weave of loves long past
might quaintly stretch the truth.
A word or two of elegy
while contemplating death,
lamenting those we've dearly loved
who've drawn their final breath.
From time to time one must admit
it does the heart some good
to set one's sense of humor free
to lighten up the mood.
Yet other times a sharp protest
upholds the poet's creed
to fight injustice, hatred, war,
or poverty or greed.
The common thread that drives a soul
to take up pen and ink -
is being human to the core:
to love, to feel, to think.
written 29 April 2023
Twins two headed, thy talents.
What on earth to say?
O kings majestic, paid rents?
Otherwise dismay!
Viralized infection?
Excuse means cut it out.
Downward thy direction?
Challenger lost his bout.
Ground, thy gold. First bought, then sold.
Polled and doubly old.
Warrior fierce, with hands a-cold?
Broken was the mold.
Things did not turn out right?
Well, smile on it awhile.
Counted stars in dim twilight!
Golem, please use thy guile.
Northward pointed all thy ways?
Dim like lingering days.
Stray not, travelers, from thy maze?
Carrion crows a-craze.
Flock of sun god, on thy left!
How to be bereft?
O dark chasm, stab to heft?
Open like a cleft!
Rock, thy rolling motion?
O portal, open wide.
What a quaintly notion!
Wormhole, thus woe betide!
Avalanches breaking free!
Devil seeking fee!
Dark fire blessings, may ye be!
Thunder o'er the sea!
Cold as harvest winters?
Autumn can have its chills.
Children can get splinters!
Grave robbers, paid thy bills?
Opopanax, thy delight?
Opium, pain is good?
Ore atop the hills of night!
Sirens sang of 'should'.
Doom, thy cloud. O burial shroud!
No use talking loud!
Widows, are thy heads a-bowed?
Fields of salt a-plowed...
What if the whole street blithely celebrates
What if the neighbours quaintly decorate
What if the well wishers advocate
" Oh ho! Life has to move on, Forget!"
It's we, agonizing over the happy days gone
Pondering on the deeds you gleefully did in
the festive seasons, the dress you donned
Our bountiful Pongal pot you spotlessly adorned
Don't you fathom it's immensely tough for us
To celebrate any festival with same zest?
On our exaltation graph, after your demise, no crests
Bracing smiling mask, they see tearful face lest
So, Appa, what if the whole street celebrates!
Can't you see our minds still exacerbate!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uqZhnqHMAg
The orchestra strains to be symphonic --- a bee in a tin box.
Cigar smoke thunders, molecules of sound wilt
only to be dialed up through brass lungs.
The combo is quaintly upholstered, a classic sports car
driven by Disney. Outmoded refrains gurgle.
We see the obsolete road ahead, feel the bumps,
the lack of shock absorbers.
The third piano concerto, the romance of the exile.
1940 is pulled from under its Perspex lid, served up
as fresh Prosciutto di Parma consumed in a diner
long derailed.
The mind warps eras, Michelangelo has gone Hollywood,
the 'Creation' sketched on a paper napkin.
Last notes.
Hands too large for tuxedoed minds, stamp
like rhapsodic elephants.
Percussive fingers slam-dunk ivory tusked themes,
Russian bells quake California.
Rolling vespers outgrowing each decade,
times now locked in a recovery CD millimeters thin.
~~~
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2010/10/sergei-rachmaninoff-car-guy-aero-investor/