Long Ruffled Poems
Long Ruffled Poems. Below are the most popular long Ruffled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ruffled poems by poem length and keyword.
Here, I scribble a letter
to the rhapsodical rose,
dipping my quill in
stardust that slips
like a violet waterfall
from the tips of
white oak trees.
These marigold
orbs shine with
shimmering streaks
of sugar coated mist,
as I twist my palm
and breathe in
the lavender light
of kismet, while
tender tulips
soothingly sleep
upon the sweet seeds
of nostalgia.
O Mi Amour,
our lambent love
is but a succulent
sea full of stars,
where buttercup boats
sail in emerald
evanescence and
gentle lulls of
champagne waves
kiss those scarlet
shells of secrets,
echoing with
vibrant whale-songs.
Can you feel the
mulberry bluebells
chiming as I glide
on pistachio
plateau of promises?
Am I your soulful dynasty,
just as you are my
star-spun Prince
descended from the eden,
my healer from
charismatic realms and
my last lachrymose wish?
You're a museum
of art for the
moon-shaped chimera
of peonies painted
with hazel silk
and this chameleon
danger holds no
manifestation in
our foreign folklore,
because when
the last dewdrops
dance with sunlight,
holographic memories
of 'You and I',
will forever
remain alive in
the tamarind tales of
watercolor wildflowers.
So, when the
jinxed icicles cut
me with their
silver sword,
spring shivers
in snowy meadows
and the sun sets
along the horizon
of our ruffled story,
you'll always
hear these husky
notes of my
exotic scents
lingering in ivy
laced rains and
falling upon the
graffiti of your
ruby bones.
You'll eternally hear
celestial serenades,
singing in raspberry
language of our
incensed love which
will erase the
acetone sadness
of my unwritten absence
and those crimson
ribbons of violin's ode
will spin our saga
around those
slaty branches
of bitter destiny.
It is Winter Carnival time, everyone in a double
bustle. Christmas Night, as emotions bubble;
kids full of mischief getting into trouble.
The whole carnival is decked out with Christmas décor!
Swelled faces with joyful spells, sounds of bells, and so much more.
A whole new winter world waiting to explore.
The clown's face painted in white paint,
fiery orange hair, a big mouth in red taint.
It snarls a show of teeth
all covered in candy Heath.
Each evil eye of three glaring while I'm underneath.
A red ball full of tea rose, for a nose that disposes out like a hose;
you won't want it to be near your toes.
It wears a ruffled collar satin clown suit and walks with a toot,
half red the other half white and big black combat boots; he's so cute.
Kids run around the clown hand in hand like a chain
trying to get first dibs on a red candy cane.
It is Winter Carnival everyone in a double
bustle. Christmas Night, as emotions bubble;
kids full of mischief getting into trouble.
The poor cranky clown wearing a frown
ready to put himself down
where he dwells in his night gown
when the sun goes down.
12/19/2018
Poetry Contest: Bunny Jump Honey Lump Funny Chump
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
Bajillion years after proto humans experienced woe
countless figurative early Brady bunched bro doggie
dimples encountered necessity to escape cohabitation
(marital covenant alien), yet quasi marital brouhaha
ofttimes witnessed altercation begetting re: thorough
out baby with bath water phenomena, which literal
cruel fate heavily peppered past (mine) accounting
lamely explaining Pink Floyd momentary status quo
upended accompanied courtesy lapse of reason no
definitive evidence to substantiate claim, yet I know
without shadowed doubt every friggin forebear (hoe
pining to savor manumission, versus cotton pickin)
back breaking stoop labor think indentured escrow
harking back to days of our lives (mainly bonobo
nasty, short and brutus creatures millenniums ago
unsung simian kindred beings suffering figurative
ruffled horse feathers nsync with bird in hand dodo
which latter species long extinct (as Dutch good eats)
now non sequitur (sea quitter) mine homeboys/girls
comprising Harris eventual clan (of craven lionized
"scapegoats" set genealogical precedent, and grew
some real winners gentiles, who commingled and
intermarried, and united proudly to kvetch as Jew)
eventually acquiring redeeming qualities conveniently
best caricatured as features exhibited by Mister MaGoo
invariably dear reader "fake" anecdote ye will poo poo
as well how storied and fabled coronavirus (COVID-19)
medical technicians reference quaint pandemic setting
figurative global stage brethren and sistern microbes
made webbed, wide world wish for said good ole days
cuz, communique done being crafted about six hours
marine hated, armies of beastie boys slain 2120 yahoo
the darndest, latest microscopic bugaboo nearly slew
entire population, hence envision terra firma with
divine providence absolute zero people as edenic
provenance (metaphorically offering tabula rasa view.
In the searing heat, false hope springs up and gleams,
In a shimmering mirage from sandman's dreams.
In mesmerizing murmurs, it weaves its guise,
A tempting illusion, a trick in disguise.
The sleight of hand is in the quiver and quake
That appears to make the image sheen and shake.
Like calm lake surface is made ruffled by wind.
It's the texture that tricks failure to rescind.
The mirage preys upon our deepest desire,
Drawing us closer, stoking embers to fire.
But the nearer it gets the more it betrays,
As the mirage moves further away and fades.
Mirage is a cruel, haunting, hoax charade,
Leaving all that see it stranded, and dismayed.
Oh DEER, You again….
At the crack of dawn
Outside my bedroom window
Unexpected noise? Chewy, crunchy, crumbly
……I’m trying to sleep
Oh dear! deer is staring at me
fearlessly
Uninvited guest crackling my succulent plants
for breakfast
Astonishing red, orange and pink sky at sunset
Oh dear, You again……
And you even brought a friend!
Sipping heavenly rainwater in Bromeliad’s central reservoir
Oh dear, dinner menu upgraded to
cabbage-like
Mauna Loa succulents
large flat leaves frilled at burgundy
edges. But pink showy flowers
wavy, ruffled, bumpy
thick foliage leaves
- absolutely your favorite
Dark in late evening
Two yellow dots shinning in mystic hill
Oh dear, You again……
Why are your wing's so ruffled black
It begs the question what on earth is the
air up there contaminated with
Is that maybe the reason why it's 2
shades of gray on a English summer's
day in the old U.K
And why migrating fleeing folks of
bird's celebrate coz lost and have to
hastily turn obtuse 90 degrees right
mid-flight
Gliding upon a deathly gale whilst heading
towards France
So dance concisely oh humping bird tarred
darker than a raven doing metronome 2
step waltzes
Shakespeare is currently on his way with his trusty quill in hand penning you a soliloquy as
we very speak
For you to carry the word and message on
to wherever and whomever
They may be if any of them be able
and left to fight another day
Who haven't already buried their head in desert
sand like all the other Ostrich egg's
Peeling Back the Bubble Wrap
Peeling back the bubble wrap on the ancient of days,
Back to when Nixon was still presiding,
He, leading with paranoid deliberations,
Sold his yeses to the Goldbricks, and the Mustard Men;
And while he was dipping into the rubbery tides of the latex surfers,
I found your shadowy pointing breasts, shivering outside my backdoor.
You were standing in the dark, waiting for me to turn the key…
1973 was the year you taught me how to love a woman;
You, at 21 years, and me, ensconced in the stereo-lit darkness,
Of my dimly-lit bedroom on Hoover street;
You, wearing a wool skirt and that ruffled low-curving blouse,
With those tan buttons, like a half dozen corks, ready to be popped,
And you, sitting at my black upright piano,
The 1907 Schumann, made of stubborn black mahogany, and
You, with your long curved nails, femininely tapping the ivories,
Soliciting an intimate song I have since forgotten, but can still hear,
Your cylindrical tan legs pressing the piano pedals,
Like a fragile dancer made of fine glass, and
You, exploring human desire with determined pressings.
And then, into your garlanded home we strolled,
Hand in hand; And with our lips, we cleared the stoney path
Leading into the sun garden, amongst the cats and the posies,
And found astonished silhouettes behind the peephole.
Still peeling back the bubble wrap on the ancient of days,
Back to when my door was locked, and a green candle burned therein;
I saw you in the naked flickering, riding the tree of silver ascensions,
And with five pulsing fingers, I eagerly picked your finest flowers, over there,
Inside the throbbing, sun-lit bed of this poised sun garden; then,
You told me you loved me. Told me what I never wanted to hear,
“Even now, with me on top of you, in this silent grinding darkness,
I cannot bring myself to lie and say, ‘I love you.’
There is something about you I don’t want to know.
Yours is a long and complicated book I do not wish to read.
Your mind I cannot calibrate, or truly understand, so…I am sorry.
I deserve to be called an ass, deserve to be brushed off like a gnat, but
With you, my shoes never seemed to fit. My ears never seemed to hear.”
...when the copter went down, witnesses heard you scream…
“I am truly sorry.”
The defiant dusk descended slowly on the beach.
We walked apart, slowly on the sand, but with no speech.
We left our footsteps imprinted clearly on the sand
She walked with her head lowered; I never touched her hand.
I looked at our footsteps on the sand, one light, one deep,
Small waves rolled on our feet, erasing feelings we keep,
Still, we walked, hiding secrets we did not wish to share.
Blast her, she was lovely as the breeze ruffled her hair.
The footsteps stopped and faced each other with a sweet smile
Gleaming eyes were mesmerized but without any guile.
We kissed tenderly and so our footprints did not run
Hold me closely, I whispered, never let go, dear sun.
Each sweet whisper of love could ruin our lasting life.
We were meant to live happily as husband and wife.
"My soul ceases to stroll ~
in the ruffled leaves of lotus letters,
whose paper sun
has never surfed to your seabeds..."
~ quote by the poet.
Say, I'll be the saviour-spell
...for your champagne stars, sinking
in eyes eclipsed by cupid
where orphans of daylight, dwell
when I am nothing... but pain
a puppet princess, dethroned
I dream to be your heartbeat
...pearled in peace periwinkles
when poetry is Psyche
...freckled in my fogged marrow
and petals fall, pulse by pulse
ink me feathered, in grape-golds
if the hydra hymns forget
to breathe my name in silence
O' love, I'll bask ~ laced with lores
healed in you...like a poem
Defrocked yachts on moorings in the bay
Pull at tethers like dogs yearning for a walk
The ruffled blue waters, rippling white glary glints
Sea of sparkles, gentle tiny flashing lights like town twinkling at night.
Listen closely as the bobbling yachts creak, groan, rock and lilt
Whispering and murmuring sea shanties to each other.
Hoist the main, unfurl the jib
Drop the mooring rope, unleash the boat to sail.
Horses loves to run, sailboats loves to sail
Straining, heeling over, yielding to wind
But contriving to trick the wind to grab its power
To drive the yacht forward through the sea.
The waves are sliced through, and surface waters parted
As the sailboat flings delightfully forward
Relishing the sail, frolicking with crew
Sailing free on true blue waters
With true and steady winds, that blew and blew on blue all day.