Long Quill Poems
Long Quill Poems. Below are the most popular long Quill by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quill poems by poem length and keyword.
"A heart's blood flows like ink on pages of poetry."
~ by poet
Pages of verse scream out loud like a child
when their lines are not allowed to run wild.
Abandoned, they cry, completion pending,
waiting for pens to scribble an ending.
Poets fill pages with enchanted dreams.
Some lie all crumpled, without rhyming schemes,
unpublished in tomes as lost reflections,
replaced by so-called 'better selections.'
Poems that purge angst and grief from the heart.
Pangs they felt after being ripped apart.
In ink, tears dripped from the nib of a quill
Pages of anguish poets chose to spill
With desire to scribe, their passion rages
in each line they write 'pon parchment pages
This hunger for phrases incomplete
fiercely engulfs me,
rummaging and drowning
my thoughts to slay the winds
and honor my madness.
When I feel something lighting my mind,
a starburst, a craving, a dream...
this virus from a soul quite delirious
spreads over me like wildfire
flowing through the marrow of veins.
Again , each poem becomes my breath;
another strain from heavens's chime
feeling the trickles raking in my navel,
a tattered quill spinning with midnight...
Not accepting sleep, I'm on the brink
of intoxication holding life’s grail
as traces of dawn freeze...
until my verse's breath wakes into a psalm.
7th place premier
elegant slanted tall letters she scribed,
her quill dipped in red ink like was her blood mould,
with quivering lips her feelings she described!
tears! these tears sometimes are in excess supplied,
flood down to ruin the intimate page that hold,
elegant slanted tall letters she scribed!
abject surrender then why was love denied,
why did he just leave, then walk away untold?
with quivering lips her feelings she described!
she wrote of winter and their love by fireside,
many such moments in romance were pure gold,
elegant slanted tall letters she scribed!
with every sob past memories were derived,
dreams of a life of togetherness now cold!
with quivering lips her feelings she described!
sometimes life has sad moments to override,
bid him farewell! find strength within and be bold!
elegant slanted tall letters she scribed,
with quivering lips her feelings she described!
Written 11/Dec/2020
19 lines
rhyme sequence aba,aba,aba,aba,aba,abaa!
11 syllables each line!
"The Fresh Blooding of a Sexton Grin"
Guns ...
are for p*ssies
you know, short for
pussilanimous plural
Words …
are sharper
more cutting
more lethal
clean
concise
quill slicing the lucid flow
you can taste the blood
as you turn them
twist them further in
with valour
war cry bitten
you drive them deeper in
you unsheathe love
as a hard win,
victorious, won
ink blooms
potent power from
your stellar wounds
darkened roads
shining home
lux vitae dei vox
Home ...
morning star
quod scripsi scripsi
turns the light on
to birth puissant
in the majestic
seat of third eye
commanding
the truest titulus
initials glowing
arriving on cloudy tomes
perilously igniting
new fiery caims
swallowing
ouroboros tales
hear the battle cry
you were built
to withstand the fall
to more mighty again rise
the gauntlet
now well
and truly thrown
something
more darkly formidable
than shady insult sown
sink your new teeth in
fresh biting warrior
I christen you Boadicea
blood cup possessed
razor mind in you conjuring
the tongues of hearts to speak
there is no escape
for in you, I am and
I will always live
crucifying
all the wasting yesterdays
with fresh blooded promissory notes
staking claims of assurance
in the terror firmer
here to stay
sharpening
words taken
from a stone
n'ere a flowery
verbose drip
wasted
salting
the new cuts
to feel something vital
smiling within
fresh blooding
the Sexton grin
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Come as You Are”/Nirvana
https://youtu.be/W2QeQ9ZufAk
“The Black Art”/Anne Sexton
https://allpoetry.com/The-Black-Art
“Her Kind”/Anne Sexton
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42560/her-kind
Sexton. noun
titulus. noun
Caim. noun
Sanctuary; An invisible circle of protection drawn around the body with the hand, to remind one of being safe and loved even in the darkest times.
"STRONG"
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/strong_1192970
LYRICS/"Come as You Are", Nirvana
https://genius.com/Nirvana-come-as-you-are-lyrics
The moon I was told is my uncle,
from days when I was in the cradle,
they showed me the moon to make me eat,
other distractions like birds that tweet.
So grew up to believe moon was male,
one day brighter another day pale,
I even drew moustache on his face,
and manly spectacles on his gaze.
Many stories told under his rays,
cuddling to granny in good old days,
how he would watch over us every night,
except nights when he was out of sight!
When in love we looked up to the Moon,
his waxing, waning kept us in tune,
he lit our hearts with romantic thoughts,
we loved his smile, mysterious spots.
Poets many have changed Moon’s sex at will,
to suit situations and their quill,
from Arabs to Greeks he, she or it,
my Uncle moon doesn’t care a bit!
He continues to glow, reflect Sun,
and he takes a bow when its all done,
generations have been and perished,
Moon will always be loved and cherished!
To confirm my beliefs, asked my friend,
clever school teacher from the street end,
He said I was right, to prove it soon,
he showed me picture of Ban ki-Moon!
Premier contest winner (6)
Written 6/Aug/2021
is the Moon male or female or both poetry contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke sponsored
9 syllables each line!
Wordsworth wrote, in 'Splendor in the Grass,'
about the glory that can be found in the flower.
He alluded to a love that had long since passed,
like clock hands tick off each second and hour.
He was saddened when taken from his sight,
was the radiance of a great love he once knew.
His world had been filled with splendid light,
but then darkened in shades of gray and blue.
He wrote to tell readers they should not grieve,
for a love that has been lost or left behind.
But that poet's words I am unable to believe,
for I consider them callous, no truth do I find.
I wonder if Wordsworth had ever shed a tear,
or had his heart broken or hardened to stone.
Did he ever lose a love that he once held dear?
And in his hour of pitiable grief, did he cry alone?
Wordsworth may have been a bard, a poet grand,
but in his 'Splendor...' quote, he has clearly shown
the falsehood written with ink quill in his hand,
for I have grieved for lost loves... I have cried alone.
"50 Words for Poe: Marbles"
She returned to her crib in the Asylum
gliding through all the walls covered in
The Dead Poets' Society writings
All she could think of was going to bed
a lot of loud Ghost sighing….you know how it goes
she just wanted to rest her head on a ...
soft duck down pillow
and all the lunatic wanted to do in the next room
with his incessant knocking and catawauling,
was to play marbles.
Ah to write a sonnet, she picked up her quill, affectionately dubbed ZoZo
She turned the music up, you know the drill, you know how it goes...
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/bhLhJm5VyHE
"I'd love to come back as the most annoying ghost ever."
Spiritual Masks
In the labyrinth of the soul, shadows swirl,
Each corner whispers with longing unheard,
A wounded boy, in robes of mist,
Seeks light in the vapors of sacred thought.
Mirrors, portals to eternity's mystery,
Reflect faces dancing in circles of gold,
Yet each reflection, a fragile illusion,
Conceals a tale of flight and desire untold.
The poet, alchemist of silent words,
Transforms pain into divine nectar,
With his quill, he sketches constellations,
In the sky of the mind, where dreams surrender.
In every verse, a shooting star,
A tear transmuted to pearls of light,
Each stanza, a prayer sent aloft,
To hidden heavens, to realms of delight.
Masks are garments woven of threads of mystery,
Stitched from fears, from yearnings concealed,
But when we surrender to the void, and let go,
We uncover the essence, in the dance of overflow.
Beneath each mask, a universe breathes,
A child who dreams, with eyes of emerald,
Searching the darkness, for a ray, a spark,
To shatter illusions, to restore his spark.
Through whirlwinds of thought, we seek our identity,
Amidst stars and shadows, we find our truth,
For our wounds are portals of light,
Transforming our souls into gold, immortal and uncouth.
He painted with emotions from a palette of words
Found himself in a forest of light green foliage
Threw his colours and ink pots high into the air
Waited for streams of consciousness to settle
Until sentiments found sentences on their own
The prism of clouds condensed into sun light
A bold font trickled from the pen’s fountain
Near a spring of love healing and innocence
Above an eagle circled above smudges of tears
Imagined that he was part of the poet’s plot
A flying aerial daredevil screeched his giggles
Undertone of freedom and ambience of spirit
Sound of the wilderness and narration of prey
A reminder and prayer of letting go of the past
Charisma found pages of unequivocal surrender
The scribe had been a hunter a few blue moon ago
Had once sharpened his quill with a razor of anger
Before twilight dawned on meaning and conscience
Planting seeds in an undergrowth of a restless mind
The bird’s wisdom dispersed the protagonist’s agony
Gently eased his kind claws and compassionate beak
Meanwhile the writer’s soul dispersed shadows of doubt
Fluorescent vibrations flirted around a layer of light
As the character witness unshackled anxiety’s trap
Relieved from permanence a new aura reflected his mood
The theme for the poem is ‘Aura’
12th January 2020
Be thou kindness, ruler in my heart!
Shake any evil from my quill.
No harsh words to depart,
To soil another poets will.
Let rays of sunshine beam from every line,
To brighten another poets heart.
My humble heart with theirs entwined,
In a gardenia scented poetic cart.
Oh, let me be humble at my best.
And see their talent in all its fine glory.
Put me to the Muses hardest test!
That I pen a poem, never to be sorry.
Above all, save me from my own pomposity.
For 'tis too easy, with pride to be bent.
Save me from thoughts of my own grandiosity.
Sitting alone in pride's lonesome tent.
February 24, 2020
11 am PST