Long Refraction Poems
Long Refraction Poems. Below are the most popular long Refraction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Refraction poems by poem length and keyword.
Some say you are lost
If you are not found
On their ground
Some think you are blind
If you do not find
What they find
I am an atheist who believes
The universe is a tapestry
Not a thread
The science to chart the stars
Is but a celestial church
That medicine and vaccines
Are answered prayers
That communities
Can save each other
That math and music
Language and learning
Rebuilding destruction
And regretting a wrong
Are inherent miracles
That to plant a tree
Water a garden
Kiss a scar
Soothe a bruise
Give a smile
Hug a sorrow
Cook a meal
Play a song
Clasp a hand
Bandage a cut
Wipe a tear
Hear a need -
Is divine
I believe the soul of nature
Is sacred
and a rainbow's refraction
Is all the more radiant
For the formula it contains
I believe the finitude of life
Makes a more precious day
And, to my friends of other faiths
I believe - we can meet halfway.
4/27/20
(this was inspired by a poem I read by Anil Deo called Any Athiests out there - thank you for your kind response to my novella-of-a-comment, Anil!)
One in each bedroom. Where am I to sleep?
Little listening devices, dot lime green light
Steadily gazing down at me all night
Surveillance recording my data to keep
Smoke alarms linking conspiracy
Three roomed spies, tracking my actions
Informed by portion, a mirror refraction
Crackle of speaker tells me they're listening
Walking beneath their sinister signal
Rubs a demure smoke stack
Static sear of lightning attack
My frontal lobe, firey inflicted
Drills into my wobbled competence
Harboured horror of what's to come
I latch splinter of infiltration flung
Hazed head hampers responsiveness
Piled with layers of quilts
Kitchen floor is in fact, quite comfortable
Alarms are unconfrontable
- I perceived the microphone tilt!
Haphazard clothes cause me to stumble
In a cluttered closed door hallway
Could alarms be removable, - I have a way!
Slid off plastic caps makes blaze redundant
1st August 2020
Contest : Be Inspired
Sponsor: Regina Mc Intosh
it took one glance into your emerald eyes’ kindest beams
for the focus to change and enlighten darkness and pain
to guide my broken refraction towards your olive skin
I felt all verglas thawing vision and join chartreuse blinks
of the moment as light sea foam pastels sprouted lush ferns
presented sage mint and lime moss to the harlequin waiting
to be brushed by honeydew colour and cinnamon fragrance
my own wilted flowers struggled at first to blossom again
hibiscus cranberry and feverish scarlet had lain abandoned
hastened by drought colour blindness and glanced disrepair
the Little Prince at the time merely a frog awaiting the kiss
looked at the broken thorns presiding over crimson petals
of vulnerable hope shattered kindness lost evergreen shoots
I love you said the candy apple and plumed with the parakeet
24th October 2021
In your head to pass this time
Attributing the former to your lies
Remember our cycle. Oh! how we belonged
We herded great minds and looseth the wronged
This is your part in our shattered glass
Although we fenced these strong beliefs
It is insatiable lust we reprieved
just short a miracle in humming this chord
Their weaknesses sort was time reborn
This is my part in our shattered glass
Endless love stories with novelty rhymes
a mist of colours, distractions and lies
Lighter pages, suspense or crime?
Mirrors and doors, our refraction in time
This is my part in our shattered glass
Just as we lost faith, we tore apart these walls
thus we drifted and sailed to our downfall
Last I heard of thee, it was late in the fall
In love and in lust, at her new masters beck-and-call
This is our sorrow in my shattered glass
In a secret little chamber, among shadows and phantoms,
A child of light crowned in thousands of flakes descends,
In longing for the clearing, in a grove of mystery, under thorns of stars,
I invite you to speak this eternity and not see it crumble.
When you prepared whispers with goodbye at the gate of silent days,
What guard stands at the threshold, how can you return in blue step?
From the threshold of longing, whispering carols to you in snowy horizons,
You extend to me hope and a corner of heaven from the height of refraction.
Don't seek yesterday's paths, they no longer lead to the sun,
And don't flinch eliminating the celebration, in heavy waiting,
Years have passed, but the echo of my steps in the carol night,
Resounds, perhaps unknown, but trembling in the frost that weaves.
Through the soul passes again that story from early beginning,
When magi through a thread of star deciphered the universe's silence,
And without fear they stepped, in winter's heart seeking the miracle,
In discreet shelter, where fodder and hay heralded a pure love.
Come alongside with fragrances and with gifts clasped in palms,
Once we too were disciples of tender love,
We carried white lilies, slipping through frozen branches,
But from fragile shoots, sometimes, harsh thorns are born.
Calm, oh, this blizzard that is my restlessness,
Sometimes I wonder if I abandoned you in the fog of thoughts,
If I didn't hide you under heavy waves of memories,
But through my heart I feel you always, and caroling in the stars.
Clouds floating underneath caught my vision
like torn pieces of white carded cotton.
I was flying in the sky crossing ocean.
Red Sun about to peep through horizon.
Charmed to see changing color-spectrum
on my flight, looking through the plane-window,
overwhelmed, watching the sky-album,
amused to see me above, Sun below.
Sunbeams started to paint sky at random.
Refraction, reflection , diffraction dazzled.
Dawn-sky touching horizon turned awesome.
Gorgeous Sunrise made me just puzzled.
Once I chanced to glance amazing sunrise
resonating on rhythmic symphony
on splendorous view with grand surprise.
Sky glowing on sunshine in harmony.
Razored shards
Sharp metal gleam white covered in silvery chrome
hard long mean a razor blade brilliant and keen
Reflexive in thought slashing through fresh
It flashes a brilliant spark,
tracing arcs through the nightmares air
A twist of flash, digging of marrow
blade slides home
divides the meat from the bone
bring the crimson to heat
A razor reflects in seconds of fate an image flash feeling the aftermath
A Great refraction
Recollection is a collection of desolate images
strewn across lost boulevards,
as homes burn
discarded cars churn
the blade is cold hard long razored Keen
Reaction retraction of sight
the nano fire tracks the hard light
glancing off chrome brilliant, a spark
the division of flesh pouring
of crimson heat awash all in red
Razored shards of sharp metal
sliver gleam covered in bright chrome keen
ON STAGE DREAMS
On rare nights, those bubbling dreams return.
My heart, thumps madly, tummy all achurn.
For I once again get to relive that joy, it’s so splendiferous.
To make an audience, happy, feeling I make a difference!
The stage lights blinded me from seeing the audience, like a
thick San Francisco fog.
But I was able to make them laugh, never mind the smoky billowing smog.
It’s miraculous to create a relationship with people I could not really see.
Was I ever nervous~ surely, you must be kidding!
Every time I walked up the stairs to perform,I would have preferred
to be on a mountaintop, skiing!
My back ran with water, it felt like Niagara falls, but that had to be
ignored, because it was with them, I wanted to score.
The appreciation and love by an audience is the biggest gift ever.
Braver ones, came to me to express their friendship and appreciation,
later.
If only, I could do it all over~ I can’t, the times on the clock cannot be
rolled back.
Writing humor, for this poet, lacks the intense joy of immediate
human joy and interaction.
I wish I could do so, but my brain finds writing it, dull with
no stage light refraction.
I admire the poets who can pen funny poems with professional
hilarity.
But for this poet, the lack of human laughter is such a great
disparity.
So, thank you poets who have this gift, write on, do~ it gives
this retired comedienne, a joyous lift!
Thank you, Fellow Poets
Panagiota
9/24/2022
Hope was Burrow's substance, where he poured his time,
Pedalling steadily.
Intended path made smooth for those in legacy line.
Sliced through wiry roots,
Watchguard Wombat dug safety spaces.
Safety albeit empty,
claw shortening scooping to prop up progeny.
Plodding stoically.
Muffled praise from mollycoddled recipients who forgot
to congratulate wombat.
Chirps trill between ear orifices, a cheerful bell,
twinkling creek,
Thrill of apparently sucidal bird ledge leap,
harks updraught as capacity for flight.
Her name is Rainbow, though only he calls her so.
Optimism is Burrow's skeleton, firm fragile scaffold not broken
Bloodstream good Samaritan convinces him those closest know
that he would give everything
- devoid of return, satisfied in striving.
Fallen from insipid clouds, risen to a wide arc -
Squadron Observation squawk when the sun reemerges.
Related inseparably, sweet candy stripes are strings,
Harnesses of translucent hues.
Rainbow holds a cauldron in her wings
Shivered salute feather plume pom poms, her support
Altitude albeit not born to
Chimes a celebratory chortle, rain's finishing touch
Firey refraction stacks medallions of precious metal.
Magnetism draws, claws refuse to dig, Burrow closes.
Academy of affluent fly close to burn point,
- risk being scorched
Hypnotised by the increments his digits indicate.
Prospective friends and followers fill up his hollow
Lucrative lure curates karma, demanded by lorikeet
Marionettes dance, tuned to bushland command
Pinnochios pulled by Burrow's Rainbow.
spaces-SEPTEMBER I
empty slides in the park
chatter fills the school bus
spaces- SNUFFED OUT
Bad light stops play
The muscians retire
Note: Haydn's Farewell Symphony
spaces-CATARACT
The mist lifts slowly
A new vista is unveiled
spaces-CATCH-22
A window pane shatters
Nobody makes a home run
SPACES 2
HISPANIC REVERBERATIONS
Blue-bells
SPACES 1
SHADY LADIES
Hostas
spaces- REFRACTION
a rainbow on high
liquid to light
spaces-THEOPHANY
This is my beloved son
Hear Him?
spaces-PECKING ORDER
Sparrow on the bird table
the hawk has a feast
An Abstract spaces poem
Close your eyes
What did you see?