Long Sequined Poems
Long Sequined Poems. Below are the most popular long Sequined by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sequined poems by poem length and keyword.
Everyone hates my poetry
Because it doesn’t wear makeup.
Because it stares too long,
or not long enough.
Because it mentions the body
like a room that remembers
every man who left his name in dust.
Because it’s too sad,
too loud,
too holy,
too raw—
because it does not ask permission
to bleed
where others would politely weep.
They say I should whisper.
I scream in stanzas instead.
Line breaks like broken bones —
each one healed wrong on purpose.
I rhyme “fxxk” with “forgiveness”
and call it a sacrament.
I flirt with ghosts.
I give grief a seat at the table.
I write what I can’t confess.
And then I press send.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
?
Go your own way, they say.
But I was never theirs to lose.
I won’t be your throat,
your mouth,
your Sunday-quiet muse.
Dance in the avalanche —
I’ll be drinking full-blooded wine.
You butter your toast,
I’ll bleed ink and call it divine.
I’m Dracula,
you’re limpets —
clinging to shores of should.
Sinister mercy monsters
with teeth made of wood.
You won’t take mine.
I’ve bartered them
for metaphor.
For myth.
For the kind of flame
that never asks to be understood.
I sit on a throne
shaped like an electric chair,
burning truth until
only the bones of beauty remain.
You?
You live in living rooms.
You collect pretty things.
I braid your betrayal
into a lei of lunacy —
my madness in bloom.
Say I’m too old.
Too female.
Too much.
There’s something in the water.
Damn right.
I am the water.
I merge with ocean light.
The moon kisses me goodnight.
Why do I need your approval to feel seen?
Must just be a throwback trauma dream.
Your eyes — not galaxies,
but black holes,
sucking the light from my becoming.
I offered constellations,
you brought collapse.
But still—
I orbit my own flame.
Still, I rise in ruin’s dress,
sequined with scars.
I chew the fat
with better men than you,
men who don’t flinch
when a woman burns through.
Men who sip my fury like wine,
and still
ask for another glass.
You?
You watered me down,
then called me “too much”
for the mess you made.
?
And still I write.
O souls of the Island,
I have silently
heard through
tropical torrents
and surpassed
a million miles
of the milky seas,
away from
mint-marine
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland,
as strawberry
ripples and
coconut-scented
musings called
upon my
flamboyant spirit,
to explore those
ebony-emeralds
of universe and
envelop my hope in
creamy pink shells.
I have soaked in
sepia impressions,
ebbing as
crepe currents
on splitting shores
and windsurfed
through the
hibiscus rays
of life by forbidding
heartache hymns
of yesteryears,
from lurking in
jewelled hours
of today
and built a
kryptonite kayak
to sail in the
turquoise times
of tomorrow.
For, now I know
that the
opalescent ocean
has chosen me,
to return the
riveting spirit
of sage-rufescent
rivulets back to
the 'Heart of
Humanity's Cosmos',
shaped in
soft serenades
of seraphim.
When the
whispers of a
mauve french-rose,
blooming within,
will uncurl their
farthest wish
in silken twinkles,
my eyes will always
remember these
watercolor heights
splashing crayon dusks
and revealing
silver moon truths,
for there's more
beyond the
neon networks
of syzygy pearl skies
and chestnut reefs,
yearning to be
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love.
So, I abandon
those sooty
regrets that snorkel
with their fragile fins in
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations
of intuitions, formed
by the star-kissed
manta rays and
sketch sagacious
saudades laced
with hope, as a
halo around the
lilac Pole Star.
In this mortal
seascape of
the seventh heaven,
every orphan
of darkness
shimmers as
the beacon
of lustrous
sugar-scintilla that
shapes this world,
in ivory-smitten
spheres of
magically
diaphanous helix,
waltzing in whispers
of wind and water.
Every lava-skinned,
feminine flame
of doleful daffodils
was once a glittered
cherry-red gardenia,
laced with
cardinal buds,
who nurtured
velvet seeds
in the womb of
celeste compassion
and edenic empathy.
And like myself,
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations,
crowned with
purple plumerias,
is a whimsical wayfinder,
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity
and blue-star petals of peace.
Written: May 12, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: “Set yourself on fire and seek those who fan your flame.” By Rumi
**********************************
I sliced through the strings
that thawed my dreams in shadow,
tossing them into the time tiara
of celestial orbs and supple styles.
Periwinkle-plum dawns defy time;
Bright blooms grow in cosmic cracks.
Dusk falls on barren land, esoteric embers;
With an aching heart, I walk alone,
serenading with blue lotus meteors.
The wand of Kismet gleams akin to stone,
as cinnamon-glazed magic unravels.
Each shift is a fascinating fight—
light-flecked drape, lyrical elixir, elegies;
curling mulberry-leaf marrow fades.
After the kernel, I strive for clarity
without crash or catharsis, without pain.
A lovely wind touches my smile—
In the pulse of erased promise.
An impending divorce is stipulated.
In echoes of exquisite and ubiquitous,
lavender-sequined crystals of shift,
I sail beyond the rhyming reefs to embrace divorce.
Cut wistful strings, salty lines, diving into rhapsody...
Torn uncanny links below heavy waves,
free to explore unmet routes
amid vanilla plankton tears.
May I find solace in every crooked teal smile.
O, if sepia pearls and reverie state a split,
I release and love what is not meant to stay.
Even with moon megalomania, using past wisdom,
the plants wide wings amid the warm sky
and herbs flexed with a deceased breeze of joy.
I sip in the glorious, gold-and-cherry air,
Clouds of bewilderment have dissipated.
In a captivating cosmos, clarity clings.
Hunger, turmeric-tinted roses follow an idyllic climb,
and whispers shout boldly—unafraid, Nix!
Ominous night glows appear as we fly across the sky.
We claim our position under brilliant beams
and the rose-glazed moon,
while myths merge across endless twilight.
Heartbroken after its fateful odyssey,
among the stars, free from a fixed kismet.
I will sleep calmly, wishing for plum rings
to create a pearlescent paradise.
The Estuary of Esoteric Embers
laces my home with soul-searching chimes,
whistling away in flavors of forgiveness.
When the sky is a
sequestered sanctuary,
and the clouds croon
for sinking star-beams,
listen to the euphoric hymns of silence,
for seething storms throned
beneath rainbow castles
shall never obscure the
crystalline colors of compassion,
amidst thickened fangs
of dwelling darkness,
constantly trying to
seize peacock pigments
within violet-blue seas
of sequined sentiments…
O’ beloved white rose~
perfumed in vanilla love,
let not the wolf-spider gaze,
mirroring envy within black widow hearts,
confuse your diamond vision.
It’s just another day,
enveloped in a warm sakura sunrise,
there the gales of greed
looming in ghostly flecks,
question the redolence of rivulets
behind your veiled vigor.
There’s no reason to fear
when hope flows and drifts
like comets flying as fluttering butterflies
across the butterscotch horizon.
Remember, when the sage sun
seeps into foggy crevices,
and deserted dunes
speak in ashen accents,
their choice of words do not define
the rhythm of your seraphic symphony.
Your merlot wine spirit is
the whimsical wand turning unspoken
tales into wildflower wishes.
There’s no need for an alchemist
nor a sorcerer to concoct
spells that rearrange constellations,
as your voice swirls in magical mists.
You and I, are every last thing
we need to conquer the bewitching
perimeters we truly deserve.
Tonight, when my lids rest upon the
dreamscape of daffodils and dahlias,
I see that look in your eye.
I ponder, is it me that you long for?
Am I the unfading ink
within your saccharine sonnets?
I yearn to be the one you talk
about in sweet seclusion.
This trembling canvas longs
for no other skin to caress the acrylic
edges of my aching soul,
and I do not need
the wind and water
beneath whistling willows
to write my destiny
in green and gold.
We don’t need shades of shadows
following our intertwined silhouettes,
yet I let these metaphors
merge with the heat of
your passionate presence,
as you and I break through
the landscapes of grief
with mutual attraction
like the mulberry rays
between the moon and earth..
Inspired by song "Mystery Of The Heart"
of Hughes Turner Project (Album 1)
In the flushing garden path
we walked entranced,
the scarlet sun with the spectrum of dawn
held us within the sequined mist
of the sparkling sky.
You saw my heart contoured
by the crimson curves of mystique cloud,
but not for very long,
for the rainstorm dissolved the sky,
you disappeared beyond the rainbow arch.
Over the waves of the desert dunes,
we trudged with rhythmic excitement,
until on reaching the verdant oasis
you melted away like mirage,
swept away by the desert storm of yearning,
stowed in opaque oblivion.
On the silver sands of the deserted dunes
we traced the entwined fervent footprints.
The rolling sand waves adorned
the pearly lattice on your ivory feet.
As the tide of time erased my trail,
you now walk with poignant impulse
through the miasma of cascading moonbeam
that has enveloped my love for you.
The dazzling dawn of my desire veneers
your heart’s horizon with halcyon hues,
spreads the sunburst tinges
of my timeless longing for you.
Your emotive spectrum of colour
painted a long time ago,
the panorama of the golden garden
in my heart’s canvas,
blooming with the luster of love, now lost.
Flowing in the captivating current
of your magnetic attraction,
my possessed passion sails
to the moonlit bay of beguiled splendor,
where your elfin image embroiders
the constellation of stars in the sky
of my furtive heart,
where I preserve the stellar shine.
On the trail of sorrow I trudge my life through,
wander aimlessly in the wasteland
of waning memory of the time past.
The splinters of my mystique heart sigh silently,
searching for you in the ruins of crumbled dreams,
as the sparkle of your smile
still lingers lighting up the desolate garden path,
wrapped with the wilted leaves of winter.
Their rustle echoes your songs for me,
long lost beyond the still shore of silence.
When in the seraphic spring
you’re embraced by euphoric exuberance,
you will never know
the secrets of my pining furtive heart,
how much it misses your world,
where I want to be before I walk the last mile.
The dawn spoke her name like a silken secret
carried carefree by the tradewinds of lust and larceny
imported from the traderoutes of paradise and pandemonium,
sequined with violet venom she venerates the virtue of volition
her love is unlawful, unequalled in unrest, righteous in conquest,
tender in temptation, torrid your surrender, her beauty a will bender,
Queen of Empire Passion, warrior unknown to submission
her kingdom was not inherited, glory and throne ungifted,
the treasures, stables and territories, battles and crown all won,
rich in intellect, endowed with rare resources, affluent in original passion
bejeweled in natural beauty, she bewitches beasts and men alike,
Poets pen her preciously as Woman Total, Priests implore her pardon,
male servants pander to her anger and ardor, satisfaction she commands,
Sisterhood the symbol and soul of her mission,
I was just a man, a wanderer wading through her reign,
from the unsubdued North I came, a curious traveler with ancient name,
my tribe unfamiliar, underestimated, a Chieftain of steady pulse,
tresspassing towards her roots my aim was direct knowledge of her
woman of renown cunning and learning, woman of exotic ability,
seeking teaching and romance, though I would not be her Subject or victim,
this she knew, this she abhorred, a challenge to her dominance,
I agreed to meet her alone in the open morning of war,
in an abeyounce of gliding fire she comes riding out of the sun
regalia of black roses against red tears flying above her shoulder,
our horses begin a battle tromp, breaths heavy with moist mania
she has leopards in her eyes
poinsettias and death's palms painted on thighs,
scalps of exlovers and enemies slung on sadle
we acknowledge one another with ritual yell
I exclaim, Warrior Poetess, she screams Poet Warrior!
dismounting with mutual vigor our combat erupts
cutting my cheek with her blade's lip
kicking me in the ribs
I clinch her collared throat
and heel trip us to the ground
she snarls, I growl,
a glimpse of rescue in eachother's eyes -
J.A.B.
If rain poured
in susurrating sounds
of unshed tears,
will ungrateful dialects
change their insincere
expressions of speech,
or will this unheard
voice forever be
lost as echoes within
glass walls,
where lilac-feathered
letters of farewell
written in red diamonds,
illustrate illusive
narratives of an onyx heart
haunted by
holographic
harmonies,
in glitters of retro line art~
to graphically craft
cacophonous chronicles of
unexpressed trauma,
engrossed in cursive candor,
while this quivering quill remains
dipped in purple
pansies and primrose poetry,
glorifying indigo intuitions
that bleed in
blue-black and burgundy
But, I still keep
surfing in sizzling silence
towards saffron-streaked
sunsets resembling
the wisteria warmth
of your embellished embrace,
awakening from lucid
dreams of sparkling
silhouettes of us,
when I was uncontrollably
lost in your
pillow-shaped eyes,
counting silver stars hanging
on long lashes with lilac dust,
forgetting the times
I was caught in the
riveting rhythm of
lemonade lies.
For in your
amorous arms,
every qualitative question
within incomplete
puzzles of life and loss,
unravels appealing answers
with carnation compassion,
upon corners of
crumpled pages,
where initials of
your flowery
name is a
timeless token,
of love that still exists~
in this woeful world
of hate from heinous hyenas.
But these starry stones
of turquoise trust
shall be the
clandestine clemency
that holds this
unwritten tale of survival.
For, I am unapologetically poetic~
rewriting fuschia future
on pastel colored
paper parachutes,
letting go of twisted
tones cloaked with
jealous January winds at dawn,
as cinnamon gold sequined
skies reflect magic within
misty mirrors,
to begin again
as April crawls back,
knocking on the
laser-lavender portal
adorned with teal-cerulean
wings of our whimsical fairyland…
Written: May 23, 2025, for contest by Unseeking Seeker
Line of inquiry:
“Being mistook, we burnt the book
thoughts rest, we dwell in our heart’s nest
touched by spirit, our body shook
by God’s light blest as we undressed”
****************
In the dimness of mirage sequined dreams,
Vehemently, we tread thorny streams.
We unwittingly drew from sacred tomes—
Sizzling secrets in our soul's quiet homes
The dye of wisdom turned to ash and haze,
Our voices waned in the flames of daze.
It was still warm, but a spark began to stir,
A whisper is heard in a magician soft whirr.
Views tucked away in a tender, tranquil nest,
A sanctuary sculpted snugly in the soul's zest.
Where whispered wishes and wobbly whims wane,
In this coxswain oasis, all our hearts find fain.
A chauvinistic cobweb amid a sepal storm,
A periwinkle pledges, the pandemonium warms.
A place where silence eases the mayhem we bear—
And the stories of our hearts lay steadily bare.
Metamorphosis gives us the aptitude to bend,
A caterpillar breaks out from its tight cocoon.
Rising brilliant, rejuvenated, and transcendent—
Turned under the changing rose-glazed moon.
Every scar represents wars fought within,
A record of growth and consent supports a win.
A sparkling raw start arises from the shadows,
A seraphic climb, a sparkle from the heart arrows.
With each metamorphosis, the aged fade away,
The self melds into the boundless expanse of day.
Ascending fiercely, akin to a phoenix in flight,
With wings unfurling to embrace endless light.
Let us ignite the scripts that once held us last,
And cram our hearts where love and truth are vast.
Touched by divinity, our spirits entwined,
In perpetual transitions, in sacred grace, we find.
Through our metaphor, we learn to discern.
Continuous twirling of the form we yearn.
A trek both inward and outward to foresee,
An odyssey leading toward peace, unceasingly.
In the diaphanous sapphire night,
the drizzling dust of descending moonbeam
adorned the pearl-laced waves of the rolling sea,
where I sauntered in the desolate corridor of mind,
following the footsteps of the elusive muse.
The rain-washed sparkling seamless sky
spread the spectrum of my diamond dreams,
weaved with chromatic charisma of rainbow ribbons,
arching over the halcyon horizon that beckoned me,
where I discovered my innate imagination flourish.
In stalled times wafting the miasma of despair,
I turned the emotion into lyrics of creative craving.
On its fantasy wings in the resonating rhapsodic air
to the boundless realm of exaltation, I flew free beguiled,
when life-cherishing vigor of vision made me a poet.
I breathe poetry of ebullient emotion, the designer of dreams,
search for the sublime sense of frosted feelings,
as they mingle totally with my twilight time,
my mind merges with sensual obscurity with impulses ingrained.
The crystal path I pave to the realm of retreat
along the contorted contours of deserted desire.
There the roses bloom amidst the spiculed cactus,
within the entrained imagination,
take me with the migrating mirage to the oasis of reverie,
where the structure of desolation is dismantled.
From the verdant splendor sprouts the foliage of fervor,
the canopy cast colors of the new sapphire sky
on the canvas of the poet’s absorbent heart.
As the twilight sequesters sonorous silence in the static time,
the poetry of life flows under the star-studded sky
with the fluidized passion serenely sequined.
The mesmeric moonbeam sprinkles silver dust,
my muse wafts in dreams with the tinsels of longing,
across the rhyming mesmerized landscape,
flies in your firmament on the wings of lyrical zephyr,
entrancing me with the rhythm of reminiscence,
that enthuses me to write the poem for you.
I s t r e t c h my arms,
caressing collapsed dreams,
l o s t
within the
debris of darkness,
rising from the
volcanic vortex,
drifting with scorching fragments
resembling a love turned to ashes,
from scarred skin and flames.
For I am the constructor of my own chaos~
singing Lilith lullabies
in this cold confinement~
poisoning vermilion
valleys with vicious vines,
watered with kohl tears,
as these lungs inhale toxic rain,
drowning in the demise
of primrose promises,
while pain bleeds
doleful drafts,
and empty pleas
paralyzed within pages of turmoil,
unable to break free from
the
sinister sequence
of the synthetic sun.
Yet I paint
a landscape
thriving with ill-omened orchids,
oblivious to the shimmering gold
dusted above
the black-magic boulevard…
O mystical faeries
must I forever be
a victim of midnight tremors?
Am I to remain
c h a i n e d
with diamond-glazed knots,
in the macabre chambers
where desolated phantoms stroll?
Perhaps it is written in the sands,
with cryptic strands
of sweltering grains~
I am the cacophony,
draped in infected illusions,
basking in hues of hallucinations,
surrendering to the hypnotic sounds
of satanic springs,
drinking from chalices
filled with pomegranate lies,
from the shadowed spirit
of Persephone on Hades’ throne,
engraved with splinters
from inescapable fate,
scripted with somber i n k ...
Somewhere between
veiled visions,
incensed with vanilla,
and the untold sagas
of a crestfallen lunar,
you'll taste
the aromas of alchemy
I've conjured~
shifting like zestful light,
of neon auroras,
deceiving the deceitful
with their distorted colors...
I am K a r m a ~
clothed in sequined starlight,
scattering lessons of life
upon nefarious sighs.