Long Sashes Poems
Long Sashes Poems. Below are the most popular long Sashes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sashes poems by poem length and keyword.
From cloud-wells
Pour forth a quench--
And parting
Leave behind
rainbow high:
Our reach for heaven,
Extracting color
drawn from deep
enchanting sky…
Added dewdrops of
Fairy wings;
(Tints are flirting
Fluttering lashes)
Texture of silky, swirling
Web-sashes,
perennials of infinite dye;
We are Blossom Children--
Deep roots eternal
Not in soil,
But the maker of fertile-base;
His beds, earth and sky;
Of His many worldly petals
you and I--
Unfolding, our journey of ripeness;
Bearing fruits from bitter to sweet;
As blooms gathering all brightness
In service of gardens,
Forever Bouquets
a selfless treat….
Ouzo, oh ouzo,can make your head verily spin
But it made me feel like I was morphing into Aphrodite's twin!
And, more potent were your eyes stare and long eyelashes.
Dancing the Greek soldiers dance, OPA and in proud sashes.
Decades down life’s river, in the boat of life, we are one .
I close my eyes, still humming ‘Thessaloniki” loud and strong.
In a blue and white colored dream, I still caress your hand,
As we did long ago to a taunting, lively Bozouki band.
I shall blow out the gardenia candle and say good-night,
Loving you was, and is, forever~my soul’s precious delight..
Agape mou!
Panagiota
Notes on Ouzo!
Miracle Anise-flavored drink that can only be made in Greece
As of 2006, it received the EU-approved………………………..
PCO-Protected Country of Origin!
Angels in furs so white
Brave voices as cool as sprite
Cheeks so red or pink
Delights your day without a wink
Endless care reserved for you
Flocking in troupe over you
Giggling over rainbows of you
Halos in head that cover you
In miles and miles they travel far
Junipers like trees watching your jar
Kept in jar, your fallen stars
Love in heart without scars
Moments in life they praise so loud
Novels of time you read aloud
Out of the blue angels come to life
Paints of you in real life
Quetzalcoatl may scare you
Remember angels are there for you
Serenading the depths of you
Telling stories of me and you
Under your pillow is a dream come true
Velvets and sashes that wrap in you
White you wear is your skin deep
Xisti of true colors you keep
Your white angels of time on grip
Zooming with God you trip
Empty Closets
by Odin Roark
How empty the content
Delusion's walk-in closet
Hideaway's glory
Filled to burst
Collected identities
Acquired by proxy
Guarded by duplicity's two-edge sword
Honed by loneliness
Obsessive darkness
Filled with fantasized self-esteem
Like titanium power clubs
Cradled in his and her golf bags
Overcrowding the weekend corner
Opposite nook
Knee-high leather boots and riding crop
Squeezed against stolen lawn jockey statue
Draped with fading award sashes and ribbons
A brittle rose wreath
Once drenched in winner's circle sweat
Now but an ever-withering benchmark
A once decorative memento
For glory's insatiable ego
Such becomes
Yesterday's self-worth
Today's self-loathing
Some day's garage sale
Junk heaps growing
Behind garish symbols of self-deception
Stacked boxes of innocence gathering dust
Memorabilia of childhood
Forgotten memories of broken in mitt
Paper dolls and Eloise dreams
Varsity jacket and autographed pigskin
All honesty's once joyful rewards
Stashed away
Remaining aware
And wondering
In the closet's darkest corner
A stalwart broom stands at the ready
Its gallant sweep-it-away tradition
Remains anxiety's go-to warrior
Merely biding its time
Awaiting the door to open
And...
Glasses of different shapes
Showing out various shapes
Glasses of distinct hues
Blowing out vague and clear-cut views
Mirrors of you in glasses
Like crystals molded in mashes
Furor, dolors, splendor in glasses
Like petals defoliating in sashes
Mirrors of you on hand
Reflections of you unveiled
With all mirrors of the world at hand
Imperfections of you unsealed
Tales of the pasts, stories unmasked
Events of time lapsed, memories basked
Mirrors of you from the past
Blowin' winds in cast
Mirrors of you everlasting
Tokens of you not flabbergasting
Mirrors of you on the rocks
Dusts of you sprinkled in blocks
You are what you are in mirrors
Fictional or not in errors
Mirrors of life are in you
Mirrors of you are all but one in you
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.
For years her stepmom and stepsibs made her perform a menial's duty,
And as she blossomed into beauty,
They grew more hateful, mean, and cruel.
Each night they dined on fine cuisine and wore lace dresses with silk sashes,
While she wore rags begrimed with ashes,
And got just crusts of bread and gruel.
Then one day a herald from the king demanded entry
To the homes of landed gentry,
They were invited one and all.
It was the prince's eighteenth birthday, and the king and queen were harried
Because their son was not yet married.
Ergo, the reason for the ball.
The stepsisters primped and preened and wild excitement they exuded,
When Cindy asked to be included, they gaped at her as if appalled.
Stepmother sneered, "Look here, I'll show you!"
With self-righteous indignation,
"Your name's not on the invitation.
Just we elite are so installed."
So Cinderella went downstairs to seek some solace in the kitchen,
But 'stead of sittin' there and b****in', she started dancing with a broom.
She whirled and twirled around the floor,
Or else she'd stand there, gently swaying,
As if an orchestra was playing
Pretending they were bride and groom.
And then a flash, a crash of thunder, and to Cindy's stunned amazement,
There gliding through the kitchen casement,
A pudgy lady dressed in blue.
She said, "Hello, my dear, no fear, I'm here to grant your secret wishes,
I'll wave my wand and clear the dishes,
And make a princess out of you!"
She waved and tapped and flicked and zapped,
And what she seemed to make the air do
Was give her make-up, nails, and hair-do,
And then to make the look complete,
Out of those rags so soiled and worn and far too torn to drown a cat in,
A gown of gossamer and satin, and crystal slippers on her feet.
Without this timely intervention, Cindy's tale might have been tragic.
Could she have managed without magic,
And her dilemma be resolved?
But everybody knows what happened with a gourd and six white mice,
And how a smudgy scullery maid was made to clean up really nice,
When a fairy got involved.
To be continued...
The bowmen stepped up to the line
with a twinkle in his eye;
he knocked a feathered arrow,
and set a single shaft to fly.
The paper gnomes in pendulous sleeves
about painted maidens lurked;
the bowman knocked his arrow and,
aimed for the gnome silly shirt.
A puny gnome of paper fell,
pierced through his pendulous part.
the maiden squealed in mortal fear
as the bold archer missed her heart.
The bowman launched a final flurry,
of the finely feather shafts;
and many, many, portly gnomes,
were felled, with arrows in their sashes.
And, so the field of battle cleared,
of fearsome foe that sunny day,
with every ignoble gnome,
set to rotting in the rye hay.
The moral here is quite plain,
for all whose joy seems sparse;
the fool who insults an archer
will find an arrow in his ****.
Pretty little princess
in bows and pink sundress
gifts and presents wondrous
year old today
Ribbons, sashes, ruffles
on floor crawls and shuffles
loud laughter and snuffles
childlike display
Mom and dad are so-so
lives changed a year ago
turned their whole world wacko
baby array
Parents hug each other
promise are still lovers
with a year now over
need time away
Grandparents blow kisses
friends and others wishes
party favor glitches
happy birthday
April 14, 2018
*Violette Poem Contest
By Mick Talbot
Second Place
*Violette is stanzaic, rhymed, unlimited quatrains, (in this contest minium 5), in the aaaB cccB and so on, feminine rhyming scheme. B is a linking rhyme from stanza to stanza.
Syllables, 6,6,6,4, per line.
Empty Closets
by Odin Roark
How empty the content
Delusion's walk-in closet
Hideaway's glory
Filled to burst
Collected identities
Acquired by proxy
Guarded by duplicity's two-edge sword
Honed by loneliness
Obsessive darkness
Filled with fantasized self-esteem
Like titanium power clubs
Cradled in his and her golf bags
Overcrowding the weekend corner
Opposite nook
Knee-high leather boots and riding crop
Squeezed against stolen lawn jockey statue
Draped with fading award sashes and ribbons
A brittle rose wreath
Once drenched in winner's circle sweat
Now but an ever-withering benchmark
A once decorative memento
For glory's insatiable ego
Such becomes
Yesterday's self-worth
Today's self-loathing
Some day's garage sale
Junk heaps growing
Behind garish symbols of self-deception
Stacked boxes of innocence gathering dust
Memorabilia of childhood
Forgotten memories of broken in mitt
Paper dolls and Eloise dreams
Varsity jacket and autographed pigskin
All honesty's once joyful rewards
Stashed away
Remaining aware
And wondering
In the closet's darkest corner
A stalwart broom stands at the ready
Its gallant sweep-it-away tradition
Remains anxiety's go-to warrior
Merely biding its time
Awaiting the door to open
And...
When dawn drifts into charmed meadows
enchantment fades with the shadows,
drinking perfume from the night's air,
stirring fragrance that lingers there.
Faintest mist sprinkles wild grasses,
when dawn drifts into charmed meadows.
Sewn jewels on satin sashes
of Sylphs dancing with Tylwyth Teg.
Fae play elaborate charades
before meadow enchantment fades.
When dawn drifts into charmed meadows,
Brownies comfort mourning Banshees.
Asrai frolic with the Selkies
as darkness fades into bleached sun.
Magic leaves as it had begun
when dawn drifts into charmed meadows.
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