Long Ripened Poems
Long Ripened Poems. Below are the most popular long Ripened by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ripened poems by poem length and keyword.
Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled
Soundness remains what we will believe
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief
The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!
Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers
Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride
-Iambic Tetrameter
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
Laura Breidenthal
Flourished and nourished,
hair locks resembling branches,
I gaze as it dances —
when blowing, he looks glowing.
Twenty years had passed,
but still, I last.
I may have ripened,
but I'm still the same berry, same fruit,
slightly fragmented, a little indented,
not demented.
You got a sample of me when I was at my prime,
taught a few tricks — oh, to replay our time.
Let me discover what you have learned;
still, I yearn —
like the eternal flame, I burn.
Do not read me as if I come with the label “handle with care,”
I am more than able.
Only sixty-five, still alive!
Round-bodied, the taste of sweet and sour —
come and devour during lunch hour.
Do not guzzle — sip slow,
take the time to enjoy this aged wine as we intertwine.
Oh, how you've practiced —
glad to discover upon this mattress.
Aggravated because I was a vulnerable target to your ever-teasing jokes, quirks and games...a victim to taking things too serious and getting my mind hyped up about the things you say and do! I took things to the next level it seemed...take hold of this oath of odiumless pathways of peace, prosperity and chaotic commotion all packed-up in one box, so use your 7 senses outside of the box - I am changing by the hour and I was sweet as a tangerine, but now I'm as sour as a lemon-lime...breathe into me, sea sky of lullabies and harmonies in unison...embrace the truth of handsome hideous me...sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor by your ripened words of rigorous radiance (illumination that gives someone an epiphany)...enlighten me by your thunderous lightning in the dead of night and caress me with hugs and kisses of dusk dawns , for I will adore you unconditionally and for eternity and beyond...I love you infinity, so don't blurt me around in the audience as if you're the notorious nitwit (comedian), laughing hard enough by his too-desperate jokes to the pony when his sides hurt in front of the crowd of what's-happening and confusion exchanged momentarily ...temporarily... Hardly...
Little Temptations
Sultry this evening with temperatures rising
Nary a breeze whispers soft, ever slow
Tempting the flavor of love as I taste you
Drenched in your essence, above and below
Softly you sigh as my mouth finds your nectar
Coating my lips now a glisten with sheen
Maundering tender this garden of longing
Caressing petals so moist in between
There in your eyes as if heaven is pleading
High overhead for the whole world to see
Whispers afloat of a satin-like feeling
Hands follow curves as they wander so free
Clutching my hair with the passion of sunset
Fragrance alluring of fresh mountain yew
Willows still weep as I’m drawn ever deeper
Consuming the fruits ripened sweet of the view
Moans seem to echo as breaths leave me falling
Lost in the ecstasy found in a dream
Calling my name in a desperate fashion
Little temptations now more than they seem
Warm flowing syrup of a maple trees blushing
Pouring of love ever pure from the vine
Fill me with you as my hunger is needing
Every ounce of this moment divine
Good night Soupers
light penetrated dark, sound birthed
the Word ~ p o e t r y
a superlative emitting that which changes
emerging when ripened as verse
speaking to people faraway
unlocking alphabets from minds
to glide, fast fly, jump or slowly crawl, landing
at destined places, swords or aces
I am Poetry ~ weep or whimper not for me
existentially dancing, enthralling, glancing at
blank paper to be embroidered in ink
ruby red, black or olive green
free flow I from fingers fragile, artistic or sturdy
regulate me only for joy or exploring expansion
perhaps for judicious judgement
I, P o e t r y ~ sequins of Love convoluted or rayed, in service
purifying emotive sentiments conditioned, romantic, missioned
Heart is my home where rest my letters, forms
cadences, couplets, epics
in non-bewildered intelligence visioning dreamscapes
divine, liberated from bandages, buckles, bondages
alive is my Supersoul breath giving voice to electrons
protons, neutrons which fleetingly capture
essenced life through observed elixirs
as Poetry, I witness action followed by pure
stillness ~ transcendental whirlpools in orbits
my limbs reach language lyrical or plain
burnished and wise
cherishing recitals in sacred spaces
I activate thoughts and visions remaining
supremely unattached attuning words
for Grace ~
undulate imagination in perfect waves
misty, clear or intricate, intriguing, unblemished
gratifying, swivelling, sizzling in my own
fire or ice
I, Poetry, consummated
voice the W o r d
Call it the Charlie Kirk effect
But for not being a Christian, recently
I’ve been hearing a lot of Bible quotes,
Quotes which I can easily take to heart,
Like the parable of the wheat ripening
In the field
While the weeds also ripened
All around.
It’s not a matter of just wanting one and not the other
And getting our wishes as if they had that power.
It’s a matter of recognizing both,
The difference in the seeds and their causes,
And appreciating how both the crop and the weeds
Are part of our nature, and both will be abundant
When we reach a crisis point of fullness,
Internally as spiritual beings as we struggle
To live the truth within our conflicted nature,
And externally as material beings as this conflict
Plays out in wars, domestic and foreign,
As both sides struggle for survival and dominance.
It’s easy to know which side will prevail
Since one side is of Life
And the other of death.
We might be self-deluded which side we’re actually on
But in the end it will be crystal clear.
Life and death after all
Cannot be confused.
(10/12/25)
The Farmhouse
One evening before the sun was set
A memory came and stayed a while
Of a chalk white, sun bright path,
Untrod, passing by where I gazed
By a hawthorn hedge and a wooden style.
And I saw nearby a farmhouse stood,
Empty now and weather worn.
An old post box by an open gate,
In the sky the remnants of a passing storm
Above fields once gold with ripened corn.
It seemed now that a distant memory stirred
Where two children play and horses graze,
As if another had received the thought
And remembered that old abandoned place,
A farmhouse arisen from far past days
A letter lay in the collecting box,
The unknowing sender waiting some reply,
But no word came from that forsaken place
From that far farmhouse weather worn,
Only a distant memory passing by.
Barry Stebbings
March 2024
open
spaces
made me brighten with possibility;
always I'd climb toward a further view;
the fence, the apple tree,
the garage and even a church belfry
or two
I'd read comic-books,
magazines and short-stories;
ripened fruit of a higher tree;
raising me up from these low
places where I still wait and see...
as if a writers voice is heard
from some great place beyond,
voicing a worldly view from up above
these places inside I never knew...
later, weary with looking someone other than,
janus-faced without but within,
I'd write poems reaching past
my little life of
constant yearning
burning with voyeuristic words
watching as stars
loving the breech of night
wishing they were too,
looking from a further place
that sees from a deeper, from a farther
immaterial view; where nothing means anything,
out of sight,
beyond this gravity we're always falling to...
In clouds of spring fresh whispy dreams prevail
They tell of joy as hope in hearts arise
With youthful frolic's yearning wishing wells
In fairytales seen through poetic eyes
In clouds of summer passion's featherbeds
We lay in love to drink ripe vineyard wine
In flames of sunsets heat fiery red
Burst in flares and sparks of golden skyline
The clouds of fall roll rich with mellow grace
They sate the soul's peace insurmountable
Contentment slows her dulcet angel face
Harvest's muse drifts ripened and bountiful
Winter's clouds tell fortunes bitter cold end
Deathbeds lie still our resonance to mend
June 6, 2020
Brian's Select 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
THEY TRIED TO INCREASE THE LEVEL OF PRODUCTIVITY
THEY WANTED TO OUT PERFORM EACH NEW WAY OF DOING
THINGS
THEY SOUGHT REMEDY USING MACHINES, ROBOTS, HOVERCRAFTS
AND EVEN A TRACTOR THAT CARRIED A STAGE.
THE MAN WAS MADDENED BY HIS FAILURE TO DO
THE WORKS HIS WIFE HAD ACCEPTED OF HIM
SHE WOULD DIVORCE HIM
IF HE COULDN'T OUT PERFORM HER COMPETON
HE TOOK THE CHALLENGE AND MEET IT, NOT ONLY
TO DEFEAT HIS FOE, BUT TO BRING A CLEAR AND DISTINCTIVE LINE
BETWEEN THEN AND NOW.
THEY GREW TOMATOES AND OTHER VEGETABLES
AND WEATHER OFTEN PLAYED A FACTOR IN THEIR HOW
MUCH THEY COULD HARVEST AND WHEN.
HIS APPROACH WAS TO INCREASE PRODUCTIVITY TO ALLOW MORE TIME TO DO MORE WORK
WITH LESS EFFORT.
HE INVENTED A STAGE WHERE PEOPLE WHO SEAT AND A TRACTOR WOULD MOVE THROUGH THE FIELDS, WHILE THE SITTERS PICKED VEGETABLES.
ANOTHER CONTRAPTION WAS A HOVERCRAFT THAT CARRIED TENSEATS AND LARGE BASKETS, A PILOT WOULD OPERATE THE CRAFT WHILE THE WORKERS PERFORMED PICKING DUTIES.
THE OTHERS WERE ROBOTS THAT WOULD TAKE THE WHOLE TOMATO PLANT FROM THE GROUND AND SOUGHT GREEN AND RIPENED TOMATOES.
HE PREFERRED PICKING GREEN TOMATOES.
THE OTHER WAS A WHOLE DIFFERENT WAY OF PLANTING, AND HARVESTING
THEY SPACED THE PLANTS ROWS SO THAT A LARGE TRACTOR WOULD STRADDLE THEM.
THEY HAD A LARGE SCREENED AREA WERE THE WORKERS WALKED BACK AND FORTH, PICKING THROUGH THE SCREEN AND THE SLOW MOVING TRACTOR WOULD MOVE ABOUT TAKING IT'S TIME. THIS WAS A UNIQUE WAY OF PICKING TOMATOES, CUCUMBERS, PUMPKINS,SQUASH AND A LOT OF PLANTS.
THEY WANTED TO WIN. AND THESE IDEAS PROVENED HIM SUCCESSFUL. THEY WERE STOPPED WHEN A MEMBER OF HIS FAMILY CLAIMED, THAT THE IDEAS HAD BEEN SWIPED BY THE HUSBAND AND WIFE.