Long Raveled Poems
Long Raveled Poems. Below are the most popular long Raveled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Raveled poems by poem length and keyword.
Sunlight morphs into the elixir moonlight
dusk wearing a sequined black silken shawl.
And the daylight truckled the way to twilight,
for embracing the shadows, captivating all.
Nightingale heralding serenades to usher night.
A soothing symphony of cynosure sway,
Empyreal cerulean sun, fanned by the moon.
Finding riddles while gently a lissome display,
haphazardly scattered amid a sea swoon.
Shadows glide in a lithe and untamed way.
Thrusting past the unbreakable shield,
they celebrate an undiscovered world.
Silences emerge, mystery in the field,
untold secrets are saved with a sword.
In exquisite ariose, they swing and wield.
The whole earth is suffused in a golden hue,
depicted in ambrosian strokes drawing the sky.
As the sun costumes, relentlessly renew,
palimpsest marvel raveled in the yarn of day.
Inviting us to explore the mellifluous view.
THE EDGES WERE RAVELED
I COULD MAKE OUT THE
AUTHERS SIGNATURE
I MEASURED THE SIZE
AND FOUNDED WHAT
I HAD CAME TO SEE
THE ORGINAL " DUEX dE gRITT"
BY dIZZIE cAULIER GRUMP
I cOULDN'T BELEIVE WHAT WE WERE SEEING
A VISION FROM tRIMPP's " sUCCI"
IT'S A OIL PAINTING OF WHAT THE MAN IN
dRIPPERS " NIGHT IN bRIPPLES bAY"
THE PICUTURE OF THE HIDING WAR THE
cANADAIN gOVERMENT HIDE
FROM IT'S CITEZENS.
THEY SAY IT WAR ALWAY DOWN THE HOLD EASTCOAST.
THE WHALERS FROM THE PACIFIC THOUGHT THEY WERE IN THE PACIFIC
THEY WOKE UP ONE DAY IN THE aTLANTIC
AND STARTED WHALING.
tHE CANADAIN gOVERMENT
FOUND THEM OUT IN THE NORTHWATERS.
tHEY SIGNALED THEM, BUT wHEN THE WHALE SHIP GOT
SPOOKED, THEM hULL-HUSSIES LAUCHED
AN ATTACK ON THE FRIGGETTS.
THE OTHER PIRATES AND FRIGGET ALLIED
AND THEY STARTED AH WARRING.
THEY HIDE THIS FROM US IN SCHOOL.
THEY DON'T TEACH THIS STUFF!
The Showing—2015
(Apropos an Exhibition of the Times)
The hand of time paints
Upon the canvas of fleeing life;
Each stroke, a unique highway traveled.
Choices of both happiness and strife,
Chasing unanswered complaints:
Leaving weary twisted minds raveled.
Faith hangs audaciously on the walls of hope;
The easel of truth wobbles on uninsured slopes.
Gone are the masterpieces of peace. Gone
To rotten fields of shattered dreams;
Unleashed wanton terrors freely roam;
Justice torn apart at its tattered seams;
Yet liberation gestates in the galley of redemption.
Days of injustice are numbered and without exemption.
. for public domain
Humbling Grumble
(in the presence of "What have you been muttering?"
Like Laura Wingfield and her glass figurines,
indulging her comfort in daily routines,
so near to the living, so far from being alive,
resists drawing breath, no matter how I connive,
cajole, entreat or entice, beckon or reckon;
commits no sin, not she, no, not for a second.
A force of nature, yet to me a chilling bane,
distorts light, like shards of ice on a window pane.
I sit and wonder, should I share life's living breath,
with someone unfeeling, and much closer to death,
than a cold corpse long asleep in a coffin buried?
one who Kharon has across the river Styx ferried?
And then I fondly remember, and sigh with shame,
how we each once celebrated Life's long living flame,
and vowed to fidelity, for better or worse
not to abandon each other's side until the hearse
arrives, and onto our own separate ways
we travel and let go of our long raveled days.
This, our sworn bond and cause for present tenderness,
keeps me quiet by her side with muted and humbled acquiesce.
Come see the dying of the day;
It truly is a sight to see –
The way the last of rays caress
The sighing visage of surrounding trees;
The way the shadows fill the ground
With silent streams of cooling shade –
Where mourning doves come take their rest,
And coo their last of soothing serenades;
Here bluest marble skies are clothed
In flowing garbs of blackest night;
And evening clouds, like lovers, part
To trail away behind the starry lights
How soon the sun does pass away!
How beautiful is her retreat! –
As she bids mute farewell to day
With violet ribboned majesty
And though the others turn and grieve
To think where all the time has gone,
I’ll fix my gaze within the void
‘Til all her raveled beauty comes undone.
In a spring kissed field with clipped wings, feet are tied
Never to display beauty and appeal where all men ride
As golden wheat field conceals my broken appendage and sheds
Forgotten as the seasons pass then slowly morsel fed
Imposing vulnerable disintegrating reds, oranges, browns
Embedding in my coils, nests of tendrils, leaves wearing down
Leathery cracks stain and smell of mold sun kissed rain
Dark green velvet moss conceals my frame
Friable distant by fate a hostelry
Obliging nature's creatures haven
Restfully sounds without words
Garment bent in the undergrowth
Orchard grass and wearing morning equally lay
The roads to diverge a wood hidden away
Traveled by unruly Sun that never stops and seasons run
Evanescent fleeting images through windows wind you call on me and make fun
Nature's changing course untrimmed I am meant to stay
6/17/206
Happy Birthday “Prof” Franklin
Ninety-Fifth
Written; by Miracle Man
11-27-2019
Happy Birthday “Prof”, and at number ninety-five,
I believe your agile enough, to put down some jive.
Your life is a testimony, to how we should be living,
You’ve harvested less from life, than you were found giving.
Most past students, are quick, to shower you with praise,
When recalling fond times, dating to your classroom days.
But beyond teaching students, there were times life was raveled,
You’ve negotiated speed bumps, that most haven’t traveled.
I didn’t have the privilege of knowing Prof
or sitting in class under him since I’m eighty.
But through chance meetings and reputation
I’m proud to call him my friend.
a man who has influenced many lives.
Tom
This vicious cycle invades masses,
Deception overwhelms their human eyes,
Little ones grow up before you know it,
A mothers lies,
Become her cries.
This disease of the mind keeps her raveled inside,
This pretense, in bulk, spins her like a tornado,
A decade goes by,
Now she could die,
While perceiving her current devastation.
This last chance is all she’s got,
For the threads have been sniped,
While the tables are now flipped,
Overwhelmingly aware,
As she gasps for CLEAN air,
She kneels by her bedside,
with a crucifix in one hand,
Now her only hope
from this endless
Quicksand.
By: Sabina Nicole
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. -- Robert Frost
I wondered, as I wandered, if I
lost much, having squandered, took
time to think of all the things I’d done - the
pathways that I’d chosen, save for one,
had left me cold and frozen, more or less,
except the narrow gate I traveled
through. And since then, life’s less raveled, by and by.
Reflecting why I chose it, and
seeing how life goes, it makes me think that
my steps were ordained. For when my hand has
played, effect has not a pittance made,
but there within his sight, all
the while protected, the world is right, the
glorious and unexpected difference.
----------
the 'Golden Shovel' - similar to a contest we had earlier, but a little different.
You take a line or phrase from a poem, and make each word the last word
in a line from a new poem, keeping the words in order.
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/golden-shovel-poetic-form
The seeds of self-destructive strife
Were sown soon after drums and fifes
Extolled success from breaking free
From Britain's aristocracy.
The Constitution's writ accedes
Peculiar Institution's needs:
Proportional House seats would be
Increased counting slave property.
Cross purposes within the cloth
Of nationhood revealed the moth
That slowly raveled fine knit strands
Exposing North and South demands.
Decades of wrongs in faint disguise
Betrayed the truth and broke the ties
That bound the states within one cause
And shattered order, faith and laws.
When reason failed to parlay peace
The rift would steadily increase
And split the nation into spheres
With fighters formed from extant fears.
North claiming states could not secede
Waged Civil War against that creed.
South claiming states had rights innate
Then waged a War Between the States.
Long years saw men in Blue and Gray
Lay lifeless forms by path and way
As armies swarmed then crept from fights
And Death employed its solemn rites.
When South drove north exposing flaws
So foreign States would join its cause,
The North held ground forcing retreat
And quashed Rebellion's last entreat.
And, proclaimed end to slavery,
The by-product of strategy,
Emancipates morality
To confront past ignominy.
The storm clouds of impending fate
From intervention dissipate
And war grinds to a bloody halt
With thousands dead as a result.
The Union came to be maintained
With frightful cost of life sustained
Granting renewal to recast stakes,
Haunted by ghosts of past mistakes.
While time would try to heal these wounds,
Those deep cut scars to this day loom.
From tribulation life resumed:
The body politic exhumed.