Long Sculpture Poems
Long Sculpture Poems. Below are the most popular long Sculpture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sculpture poems by poem length and keyword.
She is sculpture...
green hills in chasms of sensual carvings
chiseled on majestic torso of mountains
and silence of stillness flows in streams.
She is painting ...
beautiful colors in vales of floral polaroids
blazing frocks of petals in threads of filigree
and a breathless canvas reflects vision of life.
She is poetry...
buoyant and carefree, soul lost in mystic trance
sunlit meadows, dark nights, throbbing stars,
and fathomless thoughts, wisdom of grey hair
She is music...
when raindrops rustle soft melody on leaves
symphony of gyration, sea breeze sail hope
and chirps resonate in a serenade staccato
She is dance...
when a flock of birds embraced in blue sky
choreograph cloudy frills in tranquil white
and seamless winds twirl in a ballerina .
She is Nature's Joy, a masterpiece of art
patron of timeless solace, for a solitary heart
Dated 4th March 2020
In my playground of imagination, I think about the game dodge ball
and all the skeptical, harmful, things I dodged in life
I think about hopscotch, as I hopped over hurdles, laughed at the outcome
I think of the game capture the flag and I cherish the dreams I captured
I remember my pink hula hoop, as I learned to swing it
I surely went on dancing in my life, loving music so much
I think of the jungle gym I climbed and all the hurdles I mastered later
I think of croquet on the back lawn with the flowers nearby
I went on to cherish open space of green grass and fields
Oh, the merry-go-round that had my mind spinning around
I never liked that feeling then or now or anything like it
I remember being on the swing, going as high as I could
It is just like when I fly today, reaching for all I want to achieve
My fun playground was my play time and taught me many lessons
My playground was an escape from things that I didn't like
It spread to many games, many places from then until now
My playground helped me mentally sculpture life with so many good things
Playing will never stop; I will always imagine what can happen
I will always know what can grow from seeds in my playground
Heidi Sands
4/10/25
Flip flops and straw hat adorn him, beach wear suits him nicely
Kind is he to her as he scoops into a bucket measuring precisely
Casted are his piteous passions in sunstruck warm sands
Gently shaping and capturing her likeness, she is in skilled hands
Stooping over chin to knee he bares bronze shoulders glimmering
Her features delicate, her hair etched in his mind flowing, shimmering
An energy is sensed as sand and water caress through his fingers
Behold if only Aphrodite answers his prayer, he pauses and lingers
Recollection clears a birth, breath of life be given this inanimate object
A saintly face faintly appears, he’s fallen in love with his imminent project
Sculpting feminine curves slowly surfacing, an hourglass figure shaped
An alluring amazon controls his very soul, an apotheosis angel draped
Belief in a statue which comes to life, vehemently pangs the phenomenon
Alas the last touches fini, fervently he unveils his seaside Pygmalion
And without further ado, emerging from the ivory sand, he prizes
An obsession his idée fixe at the edge of the pier, a sand goddess arises
I wake, I work, I play, and I sleep,
In between, I'm happy and sad.
It seems a simple life, not too complex,
Yet this life has both good and bad.
The phrase, ' The devils in the details ',
Would be appropriate here.
As morality looks to judgement,
With actions it can steer.
Because with every breath we take,
There is thought that we give.
Where the mold is cast and broken,
In a present sculpture that we live.
Our minds may take for granted,
The very thought it generates.
While this privacy looks to assemble,
A new creation, that incorporates.
This cycle appears constant,
Beginning with a spark of simplicity.
Only to be added to, or taken from,
A convoluted complexity.
I walk bare feet along the beach,
The waves come rushing to greet me,
They play hide and seek with my feet,
And challenge me to enjoy my best.
The constant music they play,
Serenades my lover to ecstasy,
Dancing to the music of the waves,
Unifies our heart and souls.
The time never waits,
The tide hardly can wait,
The sand sculpture of my beloved waits,
Hoping they would momentarily wait,
and feel the deep love embedded in it.
Sometimes the waves may seem to be beating in vain,
they can't even make up their mind and hold on to the beach,
Even this seems like a victory in defeat,
Trying to succeed is more challenging than the victory itself.
Charming Patterns
Pretty patterns drawn, painted, woven, or built
by Artist Nature in Environ.
Sunrise at dawn on promise to display
colorful sketches adorning sky
on spectacular surprise.
Sea-waves thrash on beach
carving curves on wet sand producing wonderful maps.
Light fluffy cotton clouds
or massy grey cumulous cloud
creates, conforms sculpture in whimsical structure
whelming me.
Nature is a skilled sculptor.
On lazy noon at weekend
Me accustomed to watch chandelier
hanging in my central hall to reflect
spectrum of sunrays entering through glasses
flashing dazzling designs on walls and ceiling
not mere decent but magnificent.
On starry night I gaze at amazing tapestry woven with
twinkling periwinkle polka dots.
Peerless pristine charming patterns being spread
by Nature all around.
Quote: I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves, and behold the reality beneath.” – Khalil Gibran
Faces, like pages in an unwritten book,
Each line, a story untold, waiting to be explored.
Eyes, the windows to hidden galaxies,
Reflecting the universe of emotions within.
In the depth of gaze, secrets reside,
Echoes of joy and shadows of sorrow intertwine.
Cheeks, a canvas brushed by the hand of time,
Touched by the hues of laughter and tears.
Every curve tells of moments lived,
A sculpture carved by the passage of years.
Lips, poets of unspoken verses,
Uttering tales in smiles and silences.
Whispers of love, and echoes of pain,
Spoken and unspoken, a language plain.
Faces, landscapes shaped by life's sculpting hands,
A fusion of light and shadow, where stories expand.
In the mosaic of humanity, diverse and vast,
Faces, the poetry of the present and the past.
They say it’s no bigger than a helmet,
Half-sunk in moondust, beside a crater’s lip—
A sculpture of a child's hand, reaching
upward, fingers curled mid-gesture,
as if to catch a star that isn’t falling.
Polished titanium, etched with breath—
yes, breath—frozen in time:
a woman’s exhale as she said goodbye
to the capsule’s cold silence.
Her lover’s ring embedded in the wrist.
Behind it, a glass cube holds
a feather from Earth’s last eagle,
a photograph of clouds,
and a tape that plays a lullaby
in a language no longer spoken.
Lunar shadows shift across it slowly,
like the memory of someone walking away.
No plaque, no flag—
just silence holding its breath
while Earth hangs blue and distant above.
And sometimes, in solar flare storms,
the sculpture hums faintly—
not by design,
but by yearning.
They call it Momento:
Not monument, not marker—
Just a whisper left behind
for the stars to one day understand
that we were here—
and we remembered.
Stillness abides deep facial form;
Statue decides a lasting norm.
Eyes closed in peace where no thoughts can;
Deeper than ease this inner trend.
You meditate in sweet repose;
Aware of fate in lively close.
Awake to know a flight that glows;
Aware of flow as insight shows.
A lotus stance of inner quest;
A vibrant dance in calm address.
So many makes that stillness sparks;
A mindful take with soul that marks.
Here at the core, the soul knows best;
No need for more to thrill life's quest.
This Buddha form in placid sit;
Samples a norm beyond all wit.
The path and way lies within reach;
Now and here stay on loving each.
Leon Enriquez
03 April 2014
Singapore
(Notes: This work is inspired by admiring
a fine sculpture of the Lord Buddha, as well
as a marvelous oil painting with same posture.)
The aria of the sunburst slivers of the sky,
entwined with the cadence of your ivory feet,
winding on the pearl-rolled silver sea shore,
carves the rhythm of your footprint sculpture,
only for a beguiling while,
until scraped by the surge of time tide in spate,
stowed in the depth of the stratified memory,
they are all fossilized since.
I’ll make a sapphire sea of desire in my heart,
its golden beach, a shimmering crystalline face
will radiate the dissolved patina of yearning.
From the mystique mist of azure
the rise of an angel I’ll see astounded,
walking drenched in the crimson aura,
the twilight sky drizzling.
I’ll congeal my racing surf of heart beats,
the aching waves will return unbroken,
your footprints will remain engraved unwashed
on the silent sands of the stalled time,
until I reach you, enthralled,
following the mirage of the tantalizing trail,
the lure of your attraction.
Written : January 19, 2020
Contest : Favourite Poem From January 2020
Sponsor : Julia ward