Long Rustic Poems
Long Rustic Poems. Below are the most popular long Rustic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rustic poems by poem length and keyword.
He circles around this rustic boat launch,
the locals know he nests in the pine trees,
fish bone at the base tell of his last lunch,
these birds like water, big lakes and sea.
White heads draw the eye, even if far off,
it’s clear why most men think them majestic,
he looks better still plunging for the waves,
into a trout yellow talons now rip.
Some folks snap photos from this rocky beach,
zoom in on fledglings with thin mottled heads,
they flap wings to fly, but it’s still a reach,
so they just hop back to their nesting bed,
it will be some months before they’re ready
to soar on the thermals, strong and steady.
Through the cobblestone roads they walk
with feet so light and hearts so bright
along the path where passion sizzles love
it is a prelude to dismember by the hour ;
Fine china dishes and silent forks await
outside the window, a horse passes by
clickity clack clomp clickity clack clomp;
They are dreaming of their future
in Quebec City that place of old
where open rustic gates are a sign
of new beginnings;
The waiter speaks with a sweet mix of
English-French and savoire faire;
The grateful feast begins
fullant plates of pasta so divine
that when the hour is over, all they
do is lay supine:
"Embrasse moi mons cherie "
he leans over and kisses her softly
then feathers her body with a brush
of his hand , downy soft and warm
no words are needed.
8/24/2019
Contest Name: 136 words
Summer winds down, autumn appears
Leaves upon ground from deciduous trees
Foliage now rustic ebbs slowly away
Animals gather food for winters stay.
Webs that glisten from wet morning dew
Misty white curtains blurs scenery view
Rituals and sacrifices in old days of past
Thanking God's harvest and future ones last.
Daylight grows shorter - long nights begin
Bonfire nights and apple bobbing
Parents and children carving pumpkins
Ghosts annual night visit at Halloween.
Horse chestnuts seeds - conkers kids play
Blackberries grow plenty, wild fruit of the day
Autumns rich colours, beauty fanfare
Natures painted canvas and artistic flair.
07.09.21
Architects
-Walter Rossman
In these ruins, a peculiar place
within the rubble, sanctity abounds here
and stand you will, straight, respectful
as you see the shattered idols of a previous people
erased.
one finds an engraved tablet
rustic yet visible enough
sees one, in wondrous artful calligraphy
that would’ve been etched by some
creative, trained hand that knew not
its work would outlive its precedents.
In it, one reads
“Forever have I waited for
this dingy city of mine, to see
new eyes and it takes,
sadly, the eyes of art
to see for itself
the utter monstrosity”
and you pick the rubble, anew
now with purpose that
that great hand wrote amid sweat
and blood, amid tiring hours of work
the future of the entire city.
As you dig, you find
the toolbox, filled to the brim
its contents never seeing the grit of stone
or the sparks off metals, never have they borne witness
to the midday sun and the perspiring architect
who creates art, unappreciated, and we all,
all of us men who descended upon the rubble
are filled with purpose
we grab what we can find.
The broken columns and
shattered stone, remnants of marble
and disgraced statue-heads are now lighter to hold
the rubble seems to clear off
beneath it lies, the indomitable will
of a poor, poor artist,
with eyes that could see far more than
anyone of the doomed city,
we all bathe in that will, we are now
inspired by art,
art that knows no bounds,
of cities perished, little is spoken
it’s what remains that matters
be it so, for that noble man
we’ll create a masterpiece
and name it, “Architect City”.
Ambiguity within mine
doodling Yankee mind that
arises, asper current
hoopla harrumphing
American Civil War statues,
which verbal/written spat
particularly regarding southern generals
(many atop horses) arouses
call to arms whereat,
excited curiosity possibly twill incite
dangerous extraneous, mutinous,
treasonous tit for tat
promulgation exhuming ghosts
abolitionists of Dead Poets Society
screeching like a wildcat
signaling resumption, sans
war between the states recruiting
every able bodied proletariat
after well nigh one
hundred fifty four plus years,
which repurpose sing reformat
might transform mine
humdrum friggin existence
into one enviable secretariat,
where these ears will
hear constant ratatat,
when bombardiers din
temporarily doth pause
scampering atop rampart
analogous to polecat
espying the freshly minted "enemy"
unconcerned if maneuvers induce pitapat
cuz resumption of battle will drown,
this weasel granted leeway within Union
Schwenksville, Pennsylvanian nonfat
spry old man confident fighter
despite civilian life
extant, viz noncombat
acclimated to rustic/primitive conditions
honest to dog abode comprised
thatched hut housed within mudflat
only during rainfall rigging
makeship shower plus laundromat
counting lucky stars kismat
blessed without necessity
to whip out handy dandy hemostat,
thus yours truly ready for action
quite content nsync
within no man's land habitat
linkedin with nearest battalion via
microchip embedded within
noggin rock solid as hardhat
genetically modified lest
Johnny Rebel lob brickbat
also on lookout against
swampy hungry creatures,
thence I will thrust
these lovely bones akin to acrobat.
It is said that the world is quite strong.
When we both agreed, we were wrong.
But systemic risk leads to a spare call.
And it makes life hazy, as we shall.
When weak surfeit fulfills incisive inquiry,
the diction is made utterly dull and wiry.
Implied options for a farewell gathering
The effect is similar to lathering.
A dreadful jester with mixed craziness.
When guilt clouds your eyesight, haziness
A genuine illusion and a shaky submission
You are vigilant in the face of recognition
Lacking a faithful foe as a recent symbol,
To a mindset that is wrong at its core.
For the moral majority, act proudly humble,
to develop skills in each particular sector.
While skilled amateurs and realistic untaught,
assist fetch harmony to the dissonance.
This reliable test incites calm unthought.
That is aimed straight at the outer imminence.
It requires steadfast cynicism and rustic grace,
so as to withstand this negative preening.
And sway away from school without a trace,
to allow the word "normal" a fresh meaning.
Written: September 29, 2022
Within TIMELESS ILLUSION of life and dreams
Where our human consciousness winds its path
Through history and mystery
Establishing the known to answer the unknown
The BLOSSOM of purpose SWIRLING in transformation
Evolves and grows with the grace of flowers
Relying on the breath of nature to take its course
Into some inevitable perfect state
In our will of becoming flawless
our connections EMANATE
from the tides of unforgiving SILENCE
that enfold us
Subject to our chosen pathway of answers
We are RUSTIC and diluvial
Weakened by the weight of SYNTHETIC history
Our development of love holds the greatest truth
The haibun can be a standard(where haiku etc follows the prose) or afterword (where prose follows the haiku) or prose envelope (prose para haiku,para) verse envelope(haiku prose haiku) or interlaced (chorus, verse, chorus) or verse sequence (haiku,prose,haiku,haiku etc)
a haibun ABSTRACTION
The soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,shadowing the speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff upon the cochineal;brilliant boneblack grizzled the engrain
citrine carnation as the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical rainbow-tinted
the magenta mandarine;unseen the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,
reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon the earth green;bright mosaic gold
mottled the sallow sorrel virent yellow,oak stained the pale apricot;while
blood red,reddish russetdotted the olive lind;freckled crimson,a chestnut maroon,
on fuchsias faded apple green as burnt rumber sank deep into its sanguine slumber.
I walk through the glade
abstractions enlighten me-
colour my rainbow
*Reserata Carcerem LXI*
Yore lived a sage b' bounty brook pining;
dainty daffodils, his keen kins.
Oft would tumbling tide whisper 'ts tune
'n' sewn sage bewitched, ajar would croon.
ñ longer was h' humane - beards' blitzkrieg.
Crushed cowl tantamount t' gaunt grime's spree.
Rustic ravens 'nly pricked his gay,
'n' t' nocturnal nature was he slave.
ñ a nosy noon perchanced a deed -
that which wanky winds' wings oft gleam;
A pious nymph tottered t' his eyry;
banished was sh' b' quaking queen 'neath th' rill.
Ergo, sage's life plied new nook;
h' b' love travelled with nymph - jilted brook.
'20:07:30:15:43
Note:
a) Of sewn sage.
b) Written apace Middle English lexis:
i) Yore - long ago
ii) oft - often
iii) ajar - out of harmony
iv) cowl - Monk's hood
v) Perchanced - happened
vi) Eyry - abode
vii) gleam (obsolete) - to disgorge filth.
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) b' - by
ii) 'n' - and
iii) ñ - no
iv) t' - to
v) 'nly - only
vi) 'neath - beneath
vii) th' - the
viii) h' - he
All joy had fled these pinched, wintry alleys.
The sun had slouched away
to die somewhere alone,
like a poisoned cat.
Across the steep valley,
Chestnut trees stood stoic and erect,
terracotta warriors, undecked,
their green bled out.
Damp was the only regular
that now attended the village church.
Plaster was bulbing out, like gout
or arthtritic knuckles,
and paintings of rustic saints
were wrinkling out of their frames,
unloved, unnoticed, flecked
with fungus, freckle-frowned.
The coffin yawed and lurched,
coming out into the drizzle.
No-one’s buried in the ground
in Spain. They slot you in a wall.
We mourners, with murrains and galls,
and racking coughs and limps,
were huddled, waiting.
We saw them hoist the pall
to offer it to its slot.
I was appalled. What I got
was a glimpse, to my distress,
of something claustrophobically small,
so dismal, comfortless –
the interior of her “plot”,
that niche that’s waiting for us all.