Long Reveries Poems
Long Reveries Poems. Below are the most popular long Reveries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reveries poems by poem length and keyword.
As mortal veils dissolved, our bodies merged in the ossuary's somber symphonies, two mistress awakened by the velvet-wrapped cadavers, our disinvested hands tracing syllabic patterns across the olive verdure of our skin, as maelstroms of lipstick tormented our intimate geometry. Kissing amidst ribcages and scavenged lullabies, our filial ***** tingled with an unresolved finitude, lost choruses awaking from armature wounds as compatibilities laid bare.
The azure gemstones of our sweat-drenched pores harmonized with the relics scattered about us, a Kolossus of Korova consumed by the clingy threads of our detachment. Quivering heartbeats elevated the ambiance, suspending the predisposition of neglect, while scratches on the cryptic monument inscribed our entwined destiny. I sulfured lips, poised at the sorceress-close mic.
A snarl-like grin spread like a firebrand, smoldering with provocative ferocity as I ravished the venue with tongue-flicked promises, conjuring the haunted echoes of our ecstatic love. Ghosts of our abandoning, whispers of our surrendered reveries, and shadowy allusions to lost frenzies began to undulate, like an eerie tide, through every crevice and cavity of the place, leaving only the acrid tang of our desire and the spectral whisper of "evermore".
Laughter and teardrops entwined like conspirators, as our kidnapped captives, vacant-eyed and warily bound, cringed within their gilded cages, their suffocated pleas dissolving into silken suppliance, amidst this twilight tableaux pyxis o madness, we beheld each other, our psuches conflated in a whirlwind of circumstance and whimsy, our gazes piercing the veil of regalities, and our breasts, beating in tandem, like a tempo of tender complicity.
Fore in that golden instant, innocence and abomination, zero and infinity, coalesced, and we knew, without equivocation, that ours was an amour born of estrangement, grotesquery, and co-creativity. In the subterranean realm of our laughter, a spangled whirlpool stirred, drawing all else, including reason, into its poisoned vortex, as we whispered, like doomed refugees, into the bitter wind, "pour l'amour de tous les diables".
Fervently the serrated teeth on the saw rang the death knell, twisting countenance rictus, then close casket, we heard wedding bells, as we crafted a hellhole requiem of faceless visages.
Boom.
Bundled in a horse-drawn sleigh
warm and snug on Thanksgiving Day
the children restless, we went on our way
as the shedding forest began to sway
and the gusts of wind set astray
the vestiges of autumn's display
that unveiled the cabins along the bay
Past weathered barns fraught with snow
and over covered bridges would we go
through the misty river's chill
turning toward the cider mill
its churning paddles frozen still
past the farmsteads and withered fields
the ghosts of bounty that harvest yields
caught in a breeze of burning leaves
and all the reveries the season weaves
We arrived on main street after sundown
gliding through the charming town
toward the chiming white church steeple
past the storefronts curbed with people
in the wake of the gingerbread float
at the stern of the Pilgrim's boat
behind fairy tales and candy lands
as the revelers sang with clapping hands
to the music of the marching bands
From the celebration would we emerge
from the flowery, spangled surge
to behold a wondrous sight
as geese took flight into the night
over the sea where moonlight sought
to quell the hues that twilight wrought
Frosted lamp posts lit our course
and into a trot sprang our horse
his hooves and harness jingling bells
as if to the tunes of sweet noels
while from the shops whose cozy glow
projected windows on the snow
there flashed the goods someone will leave
under a tree late Christmas Eve
the toys and clothes wrapped in bows
and all the gifts that a stocking stows
Now past chimney smoke and picket fences
nostalgic aspects that stir the senses
where old Victorian silhouettes are found
and gestures of goodwill abound
toward the sound of waves we wound
as our lanterns flickered on the ground
the atmosphere around us festive
while within full and restive
or nestled by the fireplace
or with their heads bowed in grace
folks enjoyed a simple pace
while outside others strolled about
amid the maize and wreaths throughout
absorbed in a twinkling universe
of colors snow-clad and diverse
To our delight there soon arose
a savory ambience for the nose
adrift from tables set with care
with a redolence that met the air
as we hailed the last of passersby
and climbed the road into a sky
whose stars adorned the snowy limbs
to a house on the coast, flowing with hymns
Pulled one perfect day from the heart of summer,
Went with my wife, the kids, a friend
Down to cruise the monuments
To study those menhirs we set for marking passage
Into collective memory.
We ascended the virile spire
Erected in honor of our ponytailed First Elect,
The children pleased to gaze out on a toy city below us.
We descended and walked down the long flat mirror of water
To where Lincoln, strong and sad in bronze
Sits forever troubled by his sundered nation
In his cool, dark, echoing vault.
Then lunch, and a visit to the commemoration of our most recent sorrow;
We cross over and walk the Wall.
Row on row,
Stark white upon shining black
The rollcall of the dead processes by.
It's crowded today, but no one speaks
The silence here is a crashing thing that falls all around us
As we walk and search
Some for names, some for answers,
Some for both, or neither
Ourselves for I know not what.
And in the black
Flowing past the names, and names, and names
This perfect day hangs captured in its light:
Cotton clouds on blinding blue
Grass greener than new money
The faces of children, dogs
And a parade of young couples -
It all hangs there, flowing over the terrible list,
Reminding all how they should be here too,
Those not-so-long-ago lost.
But then, in a sense, they are here
And that's why the silence crashes so.
58,000 empty chairs are here.
58,000 phantoms,
The Bad Conscience of a good nation.
58,000 Not-To-Bes are here:
Not-To-Be husbands, fathers, family, friends
Not-To-Be Victories and Not-To-Be Dreams
58,000 horrors of Loss.
In the midst of these shuddering reveries
My blissfully distracted 7 year-old son
Plucks a small, perfect feather off the lawn,
As black and glossy as the wall itself,
And carries it idly along.
Once out, we stop to talk with one of the Fallen's many advocates,
A great Viking of a man who notices the feather
Who says right away,
"Ah, a raven's feather. Odin's birds, who bring him Wisdom and Rememberance."
I saved the feather, knowing what I do of ravens:
Those sombre, croaking birds,
First on the field after battle
I stroked its silky black and wished
Odin's birds would visit the common folk more often
And croak to us of Remembrance, and Wisdom.
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves stream" ~ Unseeking Seeker
D r e a m s
when draped by the dreamed,
connected to the inner consciousness,
is a manifestation~
of etched m a g i c,
composing songs of the soul,
tied to the heartbeat of the Universe,
letting awareness be the curator,
no longer a victim of fate,
but rising as the artist that paints~
peace and harmony,
from pristine pigments,
through blissful brushstrokes,
to recreate a landscape of love,
oblivious to the illusions
that veil our visions with vanity,
confining us to caves
of perplexed perspectives,
with hazy hieroglyphics engraved
in superficial gold
from Cleopatra’s jewels.
And I trace lifelines amidst moon-rays,
grasping the luminous light,
laced with enlightened beams,
waking up from lucid lies.
My thoughts have long floated amongst
brushing off salt-soaked blues
that soaked my skin in oceanic mists~
surreal sea-urchins
that whisper manipulative mantras,
anchoring me to an abyss
that floats with nothing but darkness…
I see through the marine mirage,
the truth that no longer
is trapped in euphoric melodies,
luring me to dance and dwell in delusions,
as if I am a victim of my own thoughts.
So I close my eyes,
let my mind wander through electric fields,
designed to resurrect
the sleeping stars adrift
in my veins, lost in material longing,
blind to the seraphic glows
floating through the air~
Tonight, I taste flavors of freedom,
to attain eternal nirvana,
unchained from hypnotic reveries
that dared not unravel
colors of clarity,
and spices of zest and zeal,
engrossed in mindfulness
that emanates candle-lit flames of truth,
illuminating twilight skies
with dreams drawn
from fingertips of f a i t h,
seeking spiritual clues
to conquer cosmic castles,
detached from the deceptive dreams
we’ve spun with greed and apathy…
For we are;
the dreamer and the dreamed,
the lyricist and the lyrics,
the poet and the poem,
the painter and the palette
the musician and the melody.
We rise and soar
across celestial gardens,
absorbed by the light,
silencing conflicting cadence~
within inner chaos,
forever adorned in sanguine stillness.
When the raspberry horizon
is curled up,
shaping caramel-lilac lips
of the cashmere kismet,
singing in a choir of cherry chivalry
and honey-glazed fireflies ~
those snowy stars
simmering in summer silence,
f l i c k e r
a w a y
leaving burgundy blurs of beliefs,
wrinkled in those blinking blemishes
of clementine memories,
which once trailed hysterical footprints
across my fairy-threaded horizons...
And I lay, breathing l o v e
on a pillow of pristine pearls ~
succulent with the silver songs
of perfumed yesteryears ~
chiming through chocolate valleys
and rippling in the ruffles
of origami reveries,
weaved in scarlet sonnets...
where you and I, chakras of the divine ~
w a l t z
like the sunset
and its shadow
through a halo of rose-rings ~
our spiritual silks
rinsed in rubies,
as every aromatic alphabet
caresses those syllables of storms,
stained with the murkiness of maroons
and the velvet rain of remnants
leaves a champagne spark ~
igniting indigo illusions
that whisper
whirling intuitions
in my saffron-kissed kundalini...
" O' thistle-light
distancing me
from my dandelion i n k ~
I'm no longer a paranoid petal
swirling in a havoc of hate and rust,
rather, I'm blossoming ~
aesthetic in strawberry arcs,
dreaming of a reality
above imposters of nightmares,
where my honeysuckle sepals
hold hope as a golden anchor ~
fluttering in pink opal warmth,
and I feel like the heat of life,
for those decaying flowers,
betrayed by
the
torrents
of
t i m e... "
dear lord of the scintillating swan light,
in the fulcrum of fragrances ~
this sailor soulfully sails,
as a telepathic trespasser
tangentially
steering
to an orchard
without
rose-tinted
reveries...
to be the last scent
of forget-me-nots ~
manifesting a meraki of miracles
in those mulberry mosaics,
where the esoteric zephyrs of elysium
still remember me ~
as a sandalwood-scented soulmate
of the forgiving sun...
He soothes my mind
Like a gentle rain falling
Kissing naked skin
With nurturing from Him
The Creator of time
The Giver of insight
The Power of winds and tide
Praise pours from me, sprinkling
In small verses of joy
Inspirations of adoration
For the One who knows
My heart, my soul, my dreams
The way I feel and the way I breathe
A prayer of faith to Him, my Savior
Whenever I chase grace – roaming
The scriptures with a need for His
Gift of wisdom, truth, brilliance
Psalms cling to my thoughts
Whispering miracles and hope
Coloring me in hues of stardust
Warmth, lavender lights so soft
They reflect only the fresh songs
Of oceanic applause rejoicing
Singing comfort through my reveries
In a chorus of beautiful, clean scents
A delicate love woven through humility
Chastening rumors and hearsay
Refusing the darkness of a tongue
Sated by lies and deceptions, slanders
Sliding down the throats of swindlers
Who never take the truth to heart
Where it will bring salvation to a soul
Longing for God’s gifts of the spirit
So dazzling they radiate across lives
Shining like moon and stars on the night
There is the black hole of evil’s darkness
And there is the light of good’s enchantment
Only the Savior of heaven and earth can tell
Where to escape the fires of pain and dread
Come to the quiet redemption of the one
Who knows that God is still on the throne
And He is still controlling it all, even the dark
Deep inside, where heart and soul collide
There is a sense of assurance and hope
Promises to the one who sincerely believes
The word of God, the sacred writings
Welcoming needs – wants and aspirations
Confidence in the truth that will reveal
Answers from God to those who simply read
The directions found in this book of faith
A bible filled with an amazing, living grace
He silences all of my fears
With light that fills shadows
Dreams in vibrant shades of pleasure
Glorifies the One who died for my soul
And taught me that love is an open door
For anyone who will come hungry
And give Him the chance to fill them
With a peace that is alive and revives
Even the dead hopes that tremble
On the edge of a dewdrop so tender
With God, being vulnerable
Doesn’t mean you’re weak
With God, being vulnerable
Means that you can finally see!
Depression has caught me within it’s talons,
Leaving me with a feeling of pure disappointment
Making me to believe that I don’t deserve happiness
Or the love that helps me to find my way through
This desolate, desperate place of darkness and gloom
Worry has trapped me within it’s lasting clutches,
Forcing me to feel like an impatient, yearning neurotic
Whispering pessimism across my cynical nakedness,
Coloring my spirit with hues of deepest ebony
Withdrawing all hope, faith and belief in intimate dreams
Nervousness has ensnared me within loss and anxiety
Causing me to believe that I deserve this rigid irritation
Defeat breathes it’s scent of disillusionment and suffering
Dancing decay and menacing death through my heart
Welcoming me into a world of fear and apprehension
These feelings of wrong thinking fight my hopes and dreams
Anchoring me in heartache, echoing through my silent reveries
Wishing to destroy my peace and serenity, yet I finally see
I can fight these feelings of discouragement with inner strength
Power that weighs in on my warrior’s spirit and combats my doubts
Slowly, I am learning to listen to the faithful heart living within,
The core of my spirit’s breath where that warrior lives and breathes
Shooting out fiery darts of kindness and compassion and faith
Everything that I need to reach out to the goodness I need to see
To know and discover within myself so that I might be able to live
A life filled with honesty, sincerity and all that can be expressed
Through grace, hope, joy and peace… sweet love that lives and gives
Sends darts of intimacy through my soul so that I can dance merrily
Expressing the sense of pure charity that lives within me and reaches
Out to those around me so that I can know what it is to share my humanity
Thankfully, this warrior that lives within me is there to protect me
From the anger, pain, bitterness and sadness that life inflicts
Sending me toward the edge of defeat, but comes back from there
To show me that love is real – love is a mystery and promise and whisper
Breathing into me that warrior’s assurance that everything will be okay
Because I have the love I need to give back and to thank God for everything!
Warrior Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
July 7, 2020
Scarlet dreams burn through my thoughts
Whispering soft sensations of compassion
Soothing my heart with feelings of hope
Coloring my ideas with hues of inspiration
Belief in the moments filled with gentle
Appreciation for all that God has given me
Azure breathes of truth that promises to
Sigh through my memories to complete
Prayers that I’ve been praying throughout
History, intimately, intently, endlessly
With a sense of assurance that all will be
Blessed by the One who is eternally with me
Emerald seas purify my heart’s embrace,
Caressing me with pledges of sure faith
Vowing to bring me wisdom and strength
Securing the genuine aspiration that lives
And flows from my veins, bleeding heartfelt
Reveries of lasting feelings that feed grace
Amber sunsets brighten the dusk skies
Capturing melancholy on winds of insight
Shading the moon with flavors of life’s joy
Imagining devotions that will always provide
A sense of purpose and fidelity to the heart
Wise sparks that fire gratitude’s warmth
Lilac laces its way through the stars and moon
Quivering with delight, precious charms inside
Which move through the naked skin to entice
Gentle pleasures within, waves of confidence
Flowing through the layers of silky vibrations
Entwined with a dance of praise to the Deity
Gold gladdens the weary heart with music
Notes imprisoned in the breath of nightfall
Living on the edge of tomorrow and misting
The mountain ridges with sweetest pleasures
Silence beckoning throughout the murmuring
Sound of a melody satisfying the hungry spirit
Silvery threads of brilliant light blushing with
Clouds of mystery which intends to plead innocent
To the charges of worry that have gripped the soul
With endless pain and sorrow, misguided doubts
That leave the mind looking for the answers
Praying for the second chances God grants us
Clear, flawless rumors of angels watching over
The one who fears or regrets the past mistakes
Keeping the gospel within reach of the one who
Knows the answers are there in the prayers that
Speak to the Creator with worship and praise
Adoration that honors the One who formed us, the clay!
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (24) ,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor is Brian Strand
August 18, 2020
My genealogical family tree
was traced by a relative distant,
thus uncovering ancestral names for me,
of some who had seemed nonexistent.
The past came alive in my fantasy world
with visions of settings dramatic,
as I felt myself in scenario hurled
that verged on a theme operatic.
Some fancies akin rose from imagery mix
of five different wavelengths and hues
in Wide Field, of NGC one eight six six,
with orange-red old stars, young in blues.
It’s a globular cluster considered strange
in Dorado constellation found,
with sidereal periods of wide range,
hence a stelliferous bunch renowned.
One hundred sixty thousand light-years away
from Earth, at Large Magellanic’s brink
(a galaxy cloud turning round Milky’s sway),
this massive multitude seems to sync
youthful stars with others from former ages,
through metallicity analyzed,
dissimilar in stellar saga stages,
which left astronomers quite surprised,
because it appeared unexpectedly young.
James Dunlop, credited with the act
of discovery, still has his praises sung
for listing a host of stars in fact.
Indeed, it was in eighteen twenty-six that
the Scottish stargazer spied the group
noteworthy, and catalogued where it was at,
assigning a label to the troop.
In the case of this cluster Hubble captured
with varied residents in the crowd,
perhaps a new star batch was manufactured
in rendezvous with a huge gas cloud,
as in a cosmic orchestral creation
with melodies that interrelate,
scored by composer of stellar vocation
for astronomical concert great.
An opus like Handel’s, supernally grand,
might sound and resound in the cluster,
with symphonic reach universally spanned,
in radiant star-studded luster,
while music mellifluous echoes in spheres,
or so my reveries rhapsodize,
to harmonies chorused by stellary peers
that resonate through celestial skies.
Generations of humankind here on Earth,
measured in cadenced metrical bars,
could be likened to fugue theming death and birth…
Might we be analogous to stars?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration, image and info ~ Some of the Stars in this Cluster are Almost as Old as the Universe Itself While Others Formed in a Second Generation. It Looks Young and Old at the Same Time…
Where are you going to direct me if I'm not with you?
What I fear is the root of my most profound agony.
I'm scared as I'm always compelled to pursue.
I've run out of excuses to be emotional and scary.
And on the mantel, candles have been set to provide shade.
Overcast our movements with an unfathomable shade of darkness
Despite my distress and stiffness, I chose to stay with you, not fade.
I cherished the eternal depths of your being a lover and kindness.
The throb continues to pound me, and my heart continues to race.
When we're not together, I feel an emptiness in my heart.
My wish is that we should have parted way before we embrace.
It's been ages since I've felt this thoughtful zest.
The utter denigration of memories
To find an aspiration where none is apparent.
Several moral tales emerge from exploited reveries.
My merit is similar to that of a sacrificial victim pigeon, errant.
Any rose petals could have fallen to the floor in that corner.
Spread similar to a river, elaborate on flows.
Giggles are alive and well, bringing some much-needed light warner.
Rather than flowers, thorns sprouted from the rose.
My heart was tearing itself apart as I screamed in agony.
In my heart, there is no longer space for anything but suffering.
There is no way for you to return to your set point of insanity.
You'd been waiting in line for too long hovering.
My pet bird took off into the trees.
I'm sick of seeing me having to leave.
It's the only thing that's obvious; a vulnerability exposed by the breeze.
Although the pain is momentary, it takes years to evolve.
I crave the contentment and peace you are lacking.
Do you prefer what I imply? Nothing specific you aim to?"
I'm not sure I trust what you're saying.
Not much is left in my body except bones and your fluency too.
All that remains are these revolting, dirty, sickening tremors in my limbs.
I can't even evolve any closer because I'm trapped in the past.
Every day is a hollow one for me; you can only satisfy my whims.
It's impossible to ignore you because you're so lovely ever to last.
Allowing you to suffer has made my life grumpy.
Writing Prompt - Ache - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Written April 23, 2021