Long Quartz Poems
Long Quartz Poems. Below are the most popular long Quartz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quartz poems by poem length and keyword.
Hellfire Whispers
[Verse 1]
Mad as thunder, shadows dance,
Kisses sharp like thorns of chance,
Blood like blackberry wine drips slow,
Fallen angel, your secrets glow.
[Chorus]
Whispers smoke on quartz ash night,
Orange blossoms in devil's sight,
With white roses, honeysuckle dreams,
Claim my soul with a gaze that gleams.
[Verse 2]
Right hand woman, the bargain’s made,
Sipping tea on lava laid,
Hellfire pen to seal the fate,
A tear’s descent, such sweet estate.
[Chorus]
Whispers smoke on quartz ash night,
Orange blossoms in devil's sight,
With white roses, honeysuckle dreams,
Claim my soul with a gaze that gleams.
[Bridge]
Twinkle in his eye, fate is tight,
Make the deal beneath the starlit light,
Newest emoji, a seal so rare,
In this dance, the world laid bare.
[Outro]
Mad as thunder, love’s sweet strife,
In hell's embrace, we forge our life.
Greek George Allen
1828-1913
Seegh no mee.
Ah, I see we have not been introduced.
Please, if you will, call me George, George Allen.
In life, I was a greek from Smyrna,
Hired by the United States Army,
Long ago when Buchanan was president,
Employed because of my tenacious skill,
Riding atop a grunting dromedary,
Riding and gliding over the great American landscape,
Bringing the supplies for the Butterfield Overland,
Riding day and night most of the time,
From St. Louis to my final home, Los Angeles;
The American Camel Corps we were!
The eight of us: Me, Mico, Long Tom, Short Tom,
And the others, all hard as quartz;
To the virgin western wilderness we went,
Never slowing down our momentous movements,
Or ever looking back in timid fear.
And so, with sweaty craft, and
A satchel full of lucky days,
We completed the route in a year!
And as for the notorious Senor Tiburcio, well,
Do not judge this old skeleton here!
I let him live out back in my stable house;
I minded my own business!
It was either that, or
A single gunshot to my head!
“Eese malaka!”
But I never saw any reward money, I swear,
When the relentless inexorable law
Finally captured and led him to the gallows;
“Pronto.”
This dirt here, senor, belongs to you!
Seegh no mee.
I must leave you now,
And find rest in this calming Mexican dirt,
Here in shady Mt. Olive Cemetery.
.CORLEO the robot inspired our venture
the robot with navigation control
seeking cactus fruit and rare stones
the brittlebush and desert lilies patterns
embordered in to silks and cottons
from the looms of yarners the warmth of a poncho
a tent and rv for staying
CORLEO for exploration
"the area known as desert Tulips."
The vibrant blooms of the Adenium Obesum
they sought to find the treasures in
a complicated environment.
peyote, a cactus with a button-like crowns
she spoke again in a much noticeable tone
her voice a soothing distinctive tone
a songlike chant a melonic flow
Banda the brasses and woodwinds
could her melonic tone as she spoke
nearly singing, she soothed me into her words
we came upon an outcrop of assorted rocks
one to include agate, amethyst, beryl, fluorite,
garnet, opal, barite, calcite, chalcedony,
jasper, quartz, lapis lazuli, and malachite.
walking barefoot on the concrete slab of the trailer
makes her feet as black as tar
Yeshu"a bin Yusef she spoke
of her troubles and in trouble
I will speak this name she said
then I shall seek remedy
and seek solution to our needs
all while not telling what
the crown of the desert
really meant
I felt used and foolish.
My company to her nothing special
as her next friend shall be the same.
Nothing specail, just a mere person
A polarizing perception of a weak man.
The Myth of belonging
just woman exploiting men.
A Brothel in 1800's is belived to be a myth
until a truck of gold is found
and a book with the names of many
people discovered
"Mujer tribal puta" was the cover-up
and now we know why.
they hasd discovered how to use
wires to communicate
and wished to keep
it a secret.
the Joshua Trees rattle from
Quakes.
Amazon, to that unsafely amazing land,
Where freshwater oceans glitter with white quartz sand
Where rivers curve and crawl like boa constrictors
Where laurel trees solemnly dance like war victors
Where birds like the harpy eagles flutter around
Where fish like the giant Arapaima abound
Where mammals, reptiles, and amphibians flourish
Where, from fertile forests, creatures gladly nourish
Where heat, humidity, and fires cause chaos
Where meadows are mute with harsh hazardous fosses
Where venomous eels, ants, snakes, and predators roam
I'll go there, though I might not safely get back home.
As the sky weeps
in periwinkle petals of
multicolored roses,
rinsed in lemons, and lavender,
the poet within me
releases a bougainvillea
bouquet of unfiltered gratitude,
swaying to the celestial duet
orchestrated by
the angel of raindrops,
adorned in braided
wildflower crowns and
windswept wishes,
echoing dulcet melodies
rendered in whimsical accents.
I ponder, if tears had a tune,
would it be the
sound of drizzling dewdrops?
Would you then feel
the pain I carry,
veiled in smoky silence?
Or would I forever be
the silhouette cloaked
in fogs of charcoal confusion,
too dark to be deciphered
by the fragmented eyes
that eulogize
all that sparkles and glows?
But when stained sunflowers
swirl beneath starless spheres,
scattering seeds of sorrow
to cultivate a garland of grief,
puddled with poignant poems,
I remain throned,
as the goddess of black rain,
riddled with cosmic rituals,
sprinkling kaleidoscopic dust
upon forsaken fields,
while listening to the
drifting leaflets in crisp air,
pleading for the demise
of my unfaltering faith,
oblivious to the truth
that I fear not
mists of melancholy.
I surf through surging seas,
unafraid of twirling torrents
and blazing tides,
piercingly striking
shimmering sapphires
floating in deafening despair.
There in the abyss of obscurities,
I’m nestled within restlessness,
in rooted resilience,
like a perplexed paradox
weaving crippled odes to
the sun that longs to rise and sail,
splashing hues of cinnamon clemency.
Tonight, I’m counting crooning comets,
amidst quivering hailstones,
dancing in cataclysmic rhythm above,
to find my home within
an island of daphne dreams
and singing seashells.
For I hear the flaming flowers
in their solitary stillness
serenade rain rhapsodies,
to awaken the petrichor
soul of heavy horizons,
wrapped in stringed
milky-quartz beads,
bursting forth blooming tomorrows,
illuminated by chamomile water,
concocted from charismatic spring falls…
Yet I think of us, engrossed
in umbrella moments,
Cupid too envied this
symphony of romance
where love conquered all,
and grief but a blurred memory,
in sunlit souvenirs of yesterday.
T i m e ~ you are the spark
that tips the scales
of lovestruck heartbeats,
ricocheting glyphs of fairness,
etched with gold and silver.
Yet seasons of smoke fail to
trace the unexpressed emotions
woven with ultraviolet beams.
Perhaps the ticking truth of intoxicated haze,
is a resonance of pained pulses:
a poem without a title,
a sonnet without a rhyme,
a melody without a rhythm,
a palette without a dream,
cosmically tied, yet torn by space,
pondering:
what if these implicit metaphors
heal the beautifully bruised,
paint the scars with flares of serenity,
turn bleeding wounds into sterling specks,
and draw hope with swirling sunflowers?
As I am a wordless wanderer,
facing the heat of sultry skin within starlight,
tasting the milky flickers of quartz
as they seep into the warm arms
of blushing twilight.
These fingers curate chronicles
from archaic archives,
scintillating souvenirs,
like a forest library with shimmering shelves
touched by sunlit rays
and mauve memories merging
with evening mists.
For I am the mistress
of your amethyst afterglow,
engrossed in the ambrosial luminescence
of soft-spoken verses,
as alluring auroras emanate
burning thistles of thirsting galaxies~
the delicate dews of dancing diamonds
caressing the silk of stars to drizzle
one last drop of your pining poetry,
while I await the return of
Romeo’s rhapsody,
like Juliet on the tantalizing tip of throes,
counting Cupid's jewels of nightfall,
wishing upon the dusk of craving.
For in your absence,
I am but a poet with no abstract speech,
but doleful desires,
longing to kiss the final phase of Luna’s sigh
catching crooning comets,
lost in the hypnotic moon-gaze
of immortal love...
Gradually the crystalizing dawn -- more hardened
Than folded steel --- more sharper than
The blade that cuts!
Wisps of thin vapour, once loitering insidiously
At the steps of each staunch door,
Swirling away -- seemingly almost alive!
Coiling and uncoiling. Has all the litheness of a
Dancing girls weightless silken ribbon.
Until, retreating back, high, into some lofty,
Inaccessible mountain...
Dissipates as if just abandoned dragons breath.
The trees and streams are no longer so solemn.
Circling over the temple, above the brittle lands
Frosted chill, red-beaked choughs noisily engaged
In agitated clattering...
But now the temple bells are commanding those
Monks to prayer.
The blind and withered monk, who sits alone
In his unassuming corner, reminds us:-
"An emperor who abuses his power unsettles the
Equilibrium of the whole nation, the workings of
Nature,
And the livelihood of all people;
His responsibility is to maintain harmony in
Himself and the empire...
By acting in accordance with Confucian principles".
It is for them to contemplate what we cannot
Comprehend:-
We are peasants and it is not expected of us
To understand such wise things; nor should we.
We understand the fish and their ways, and the
Ways of the Blue River...
Just as monks understand our gracious lord Buddha.
Rouses the sun. Slowly lifts an enormous sky.
Glistening hoarfrost spun from bramble to
Bush -- strung from bough to branch like
Giant spider web;
Stiffened grasses that so pleasingly crunch
Underfoot;
And from these grasses, droplets of moisture
Ready to be released like slow weeping tears;
They will join with and sweeten the vibrant
Spring waters -- clearer than quartz --
That stream in tripping rivulets over yellow rocks
To splash from shallow cup to pouring pool...
Once you have tasted these waters you would
Have little more need of wine.
Wine is for idle men, or for our warring masters
To drink when celebrating great victory;
What use have we of intoxicating wine?
It is better kept as an offering...
Lest the river Gods grow angry and
Spoil our catch.
If truth had a color,
when twilight bleeds
burgundy rivers,
you’ll find these garnet
eyes pleading
to be heard through
poetic sunsets.
For I’ve been swirling
and twirling
through nomadic illusions,
like a goddess of
thunder with a tiger spirit,
never letting go of
the history of hurt,
left by the unkind mind
of inhumane humankind-
which throbs deeper
than the sharpest thorns
in peacock feathers,
that I’ve danced to -
in flawless frequencies
amongst abstracts
of an architect.
If truth had a tune,
It would be too ferocious
to be unraveled,
the kind of fire that
dares to burn,
the hellish tombs of terror,
constantly pushing
every contrasting dream
to be feasted upon
satan’s last supper,
painting every salvage sunrise,
with strokes of petrichor scent
dipped in astral rain-dreams.
As I’ve been the
queen of the night,
longing to soar
across the horizon
where unconfined
eagles and golden dragonflies,
shall tranquilize
this publicized heart caged
as a motionless mannequin
in a glass mansion.
If truth was covered in furry skin,
to glaze skeletons veiled
beneath crooning clouds,
it would be the beginning
of an unstoppable ending,
of an immeasurable
brokenness resting as
irreversible numbness.
As I’ve seen storms
brewing bruises
through seas of sorrow,
amidst illusory lakes
of rose quartz,
streaming down
emerald hills,
hiding the grotesque
kingdom of fragmented gates.
But what if truth
never was a matter,
as it’s all but mere myth
floating along golden ripples
in a pool of sentimental stars.
What if truth was
once a maiden in distress?
What if truth was
once a shadow in search of light?
What if truth was a fool
hoping to be dressed
in dancing dandelions?
what if truth is what
has got this onyx heart on fire?
Perhaps, truth lays in
the arms of a clock,
waiting for it’s turn
to make time stop,
when lovers destined to meet,
rebuild chess of life in ruins,
as footsteps on
glistening glaciers
reveal the secrets
left by snow angels
leading us back to
an unbreakable moon affair.
"The days are jewels, keep them with care". Jackie Kennedy
Aquamarine were summers with siblings
beneath skies of blue riding bikes or swimming.
Days of emerald too were times we spent outside -
barefoot on our lawn, badminton rackets in hand.
We’d stroll past Grandpa’s cornfield down the country lane
searching for raspberries to pluck.
Such awesome times of jade were games we played outside.
Rose quartz I collected as romantic daydreams.
Stories I read in books (depending on their plot)
glittered like gems of amethyst or citrine.
Pearls were winter weekends spent sledding or skating
but diamonds were holidays with family.
Opal’s shifting colors were my school days.
Slumber parties glistened an iridescent pink.
With my sisters I'd talk into black onyx nights
and chase summer’s fireflies that shimmered peridot.
Most fondly of all do I recall first love.
Red ruby’s passion set my heart aglow.
No other memories have shone more brightly than
the precious jewels of my youth.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3B89JeEUNUw
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND GLIDE INTO THE CRYSTAL CITY WHERE ALL ARE WELCOME
THIS IS A PLACE OF UTTER BEAUTY AND COLOR. IT CONTAINS PRISMS OF LIGHT
FROM MAGIC WANDS OF ANOTHER ERA. STEP BACK IN TIME REACH INTO YOUR
MEMORY AND ENJOY TEH REFLECTION OF LOVE THAT MIRRIORS YOUR EVERY
MOVE. (BREATHE )
PURPLE WATER LILIES OF GRACE FLOATING ON A SEA OF CALM
GREEN ROCKS OF CUBIC PERFECTION GLEAMING IN THE LIGHT
ROSE QUARTZ EMISSIONS FROM A GLASSY SKY ABOVE
CLEAREST DIAMOND CUT CRYSTALS FROM
TRANSPARENT GOWNS OF LIGHT GAUZY REFLECTIONS OF YOU
SAPPHIRE DREAMS ON CRYSTAL LAKES THE JOY OF LIVING ARRIVES (BREATHE)
COME AS YOU ARE IN THE CRYSTAL CITY ONLY THE TRUEST FORM ARRIVES
RUN YOUR FINGERS THROUGH THE ZEPHYR WINDS AND TAKE HOLD OF YOUR
CRYSTAL. (BREATHE)
BUILD A FORTRESS AROUND YOU AND DANCE IN THE COLORED PRISMS OF
YOUR CRYSTAL PALACE. INVITE YOUR SPIRIT FRIENDS OVER AND DANCE TO
YOUR HEARTS CONTENT. LIVE, BREATHE, LOVE, ENJOY THE PEACE THAT COMES
FROM CRYSTAL LIVING.
(BREATHE)