Long Roves Poems
Long Roves Poems. Below are the most popular long Roves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Roves poems by poem length and keyword.
A simple scene a nestling seeks the comfort of the night
to lay enthralled, engrossed, in memories of past days,
the nectar drawn from rivulets that run past blackened lash.
A lidded eye roves left, then right, as if it’s been betrayed
a corner tick, a slight knee twitch, odd choices now made.
The blanket once a comforter now twists so very tight.
A falling dream, a horrid scream, yet no land's in sight.
Bloodless body, writhe, heave, callout, nobody's home
your casing calls, umbilicus, umbilicus, reel me down.
A flying lift of breeze ‘neath hips, a lofting, oh so, high,
brings soul to ground with sighing sound within the dream,
entranced, aroused, the coming light, the end of night, wake.
First Published in Sweet Dreams and Night Terrors 2013
In a realm untethered, a woman birthed her own sun,
Her radiant hands ablaze with ethereal hues.
Beneath her feet, the earth burgeoned, an ever-fertile expanse,
embracing all within its grasp, its essence aglow in tangerine trance.
From this fusion emerged a tranquil serenade,
as tranquil breath whispered on, an orange cascade.
Melodies danced on zephyr's wings,
A symphony woven with celestial strings.
Notes, delicate and gentle, kissed the air,
Enchanting all with their melodious flair.
Her sun, a celestial orb of golden fire,
Radiated warmth, a divine desire.
Its rays bathed the world in a luminous embrace,
Filling hearts with love, bestowing grace.
Through verdant meadows and ancient groves,
Her touch breathed life, where lifelessness roves.
Flowers bloomed with petals ablaze,
Drinking in the sun's ethereal rays.
The woman, a creator, a master of dreams,
Sculpted landscapes with mystical themes.
Mountains rose high, touching the heavens above,
Valleys carved deep, embracing all with love.
Her steps left trails of magic and wonder,
Where miracles sprouted, like blossoms from under.
Whispers of her wisdom, secrets untold,
Unraveled in stories, legends of old.
Yet, beneath her ethereal veil of might,
Lay a heart gentle, compassionate, and bright.
She nurtured the world, every living soul,
With kindness and love, her eternal goal.
In her realm untethered, beauty thrived,
A kaleidoscope of dreams, vibrant and alive.
And as she birthed her sun, her creation's crown,
She reveled in the symphony of life, all around.
For in this tapestry of her celestial art,
She wove the threads that bound every heart.
A woman, a goddess, with power untold,
In her realm untethered, love and harmony unfold.
:: 05.24.2023
Crown of Thorns
A trace of thorns you are
on my body,
I am an eternal traveller,
never stopping.
You are the bitter predicament
of my comfort,
Traces of sensual pleasures -
The mist of a veil is
my constant reminder.
You wound the stubble of my heartly thorns,
I stand alone on the dusty conflagration
Gazing towards an endless void,
I am bridled with the burning pain of the
thorns...
My gaze tirelessly roves,
Prickly are the thorns,
With malediction entwined...
I am drowning in a sweaty torrent,
I am plunging into thorny depths,
bloody and overworked
from the struggle,
I yield myself to
the decision of fate.
It feels like the ship’s half mast
Mystery as history’s been recast
The last ghost of Christmas past
Impropriety savaging our society
Notoriety ravaging the entirety
Fake tyrants make migrants an outcast
Primal survival and tribal bible revival
Mormon iconoclasts in Gormenghast
The nub of pub hubbub have a blast
Cloned then dethroned closing fast
Snub our community hub flabbergast
Crowds roared as bands toured
New names explored heaven sent
Adored venues & events floored
Ignored by deplored property fraud
Hysterical dissent & lyrical lament
Landlord hell bent the rent soared
Even cricket’s oldest format now old hat
Temper at T20’s emperors new clothes
Every game the same just tit & more tat
But treasure troves as in roves the droves
Milk or silk for the ilk of that fat cat twa*
Farce of the hospo carcass hospitalised
Reign of the chain stops Mom & Pop shops
Locavore lair despair flair heirs marmalised
Flops grandstanding bland branding pops
Deranged how we are now so estranged
No one mops up the slops Laptops drop
Changed so fast for many trumpets blast
Hark back to the rose tinted halcyon past
As smart phones are overcome by dumb
Aghast say goodbye to the whole AI lie
The forecast for the future well overcast
Last post of the host & ghost of the past
Perhaps you hail from verdant coastlands,
or from rolling hills blanketed by trees,
or from the lofty perches of the mountains,
or from the banks of some strong river.
And though I was born in marshy coastland,
and have known the comfort of swaddling trees,
and felt my heart surge at the glories of the mountains,
and been hypnotized by the hidden tongue of the river,
my heart was forged in the plains.
Naked to the sky,
daunting and inviting,
stark and raw.
A soul can grow strong there,
where there's nowhere to hide.
Where truth burns like the shadeless beams of sunlight.
The eye that roves the horizon
and finds little there,
must turn instead to the contours within.
Such beautiful, dangerous features
to be found
in the heart.
27 November 2022
Midnight groans so quietly
From a churchyard far below,
Sky within the pathway
Gives off a charcoal tinge,
And darkness roves, alone
Farther than my throbbing glance
And moves back into a shade
Like the deepening of these eyes
Where pale nocturne withers
Past ghastly streaks of mourning:
Like nibbled ashes through late dusk
Setting the sun to be gone
Constellations peacefully gather,
like acrobats falling to sadness
The moon peruses a small light
Overseeing time's twisted face --
This agony evanescing into another trail
Besieged...pierced by stars.
Form:
Up high on our soul’s trapeze
we tire of the bar we hold
but we find it hard to release our known.
Eyeing the free bar of full potential,
we wish to air dive, then faith-catch that swing
so we may fly to where our allure roves.
All crave heights something in us sights.
Here comes, now nears, the free bar
we thoroughly want to grab,
but fear paralyzes all dreams we have.
We tell ourselves what convinces ourselves
to stay put, we count the reasons we should:
"there’s no way it could work out;
not with the balance in my bank account;
I'm too body sorry and old for dating;
I’m so tiny they won’t want me playing;
If I joined, problems would just stack;
Not without good health that I lack;
Trying would just lead to more crying.
Many angels tend God’s blessing warehouse,
some dusting boxes of blessings bearing names
of those who felt they deserved no claim.
When faith lacked so did dust thick stack.
Father stressed pressed,
promised abundance,
yet many clutch less
and name it their best.
Such believing may weave soul regret debt
for our depth knows we were made to love, not fret.