Long Set adrift Poems
Long Set adrift Poems. Below are the most popular long Set adrift by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Set adrift poems by poem length and keyword.
Through the keyhole darkly,
he could now remember his name
Through the keyhole darkly,
his medicine kicked in once again
Through the keyhole darkly,
he knew his daughter by her face
Through the keyhole darkly,
he was now back home in his space
Through the keyhole darkly,
his dog was closely by his side
Through the keyhole darkly,
his eyes though saddened, opened wide
Through the keyhole darkly,
her voice unwrapped a precious gift
Through the keyhole darkly
a love once anchored, set adrift
Through the keyhole darkly,
he felt the light begin to dim
Through the keyhole darkly
his markers fade, his reference thin
Through the keyhole darkly
the killer thief arrives once more
Through the keyhole darkly
all loss of self—a closing door
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)
Through the keyhole darkly,
he could now remember his name
Through the keyhole darkly,
his medicine kicked in once again
Through the keyhole darkly,
he knew his daughter by her face
Through the keyhole darkly,
he was now back home in his space
Through the keyhole darkly,
his dog was closely by his side
Through the keyhole darkly,
his eyes though saddened, opened wide
Through the keyhole darkly,
her voice unwrapped a precious gift
Through the keyhole darkly
a love once anchored, set adrift
Through the keyhole darkly,
he felt the light begin to dim
Through the keyhole darkly
his markers fade, his reference thin
Through the keyhole darkly
the killer thief arrives once more
Through the keyhole darkly
all loss of self—a closing door
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)
The milky morning’s Saturn haze
Haloed the sun’s neonate phase
Seize the warmth, Hail to The Light!
No waspish thoughts to sting nor bite
this soft and cheerful face.
Shades to shadows stir and shift
saddened loss is set adrift
Kissed by the morn, cajoled, embraced
To block the sun is vacuumed waste
over sad umbrella-ed minds.
Must feel the breeze, cherish the day
Won’t do to crawl an endless maze
Confined or caged by bars of love
clips wings from angels and doves
Freed, they find their way back Home to God.
Make no routine of daily blight
Self inflicted sores or tearing bites
We must assist the ones who’ve gone
and love by prayer is never wrong
A sacred sharing with The Lord.
An old picture shared on Facebook…stirred my heart, my soul…by brain
and immediately sent me on a trip…a trip down memory lane.
We were all so much younger…the six of us standing there.
Our children were still children…and I had much more hair.
A trip down memory lane makes you wonder…
especially when it’s a picture you’re looking at….
You wonder, what were we doing, where where we going
and did I really where an outfit like that!
I don’t remember the exact year…no matter how much effort I exert
I suppose it was a time in fashion…where a man’s shoes had to match his shirt!
But I do remember the people…they’re forever etched in my brain…
I remember the smiles on their faces…on this stop down memory lane.
I remember it was a beautify day…with warm and balmy weather…
but memories are like colors in the wash…then tend to run together.
I think we were heading to Busch Gardens…amusement park rides to endure…
I want to say that’s where we were going…but I really can’t be sure.
We could have been going for ice cream…for a boat ride on the sea…
We could have been white water rafting….or it could have been all three.
It seems when we’ve been blessed with a host of wonderful memories…
set adrift in our cognition….
whenever the opportunity arises…they jockey for position.
And you as the person remembering are totally unaware…
as one memory blends into another….both happy to breathe fresh air.
Which means when I look at this wonderful old picture
of three friends…two girls…one boy
I may not remember exactly where we went
but I’ll never forget our joy.
And isn’t that what’s most important…
how somehow the joy remains
even if the details are a little sketchy….
on a trip down memory lane.
Become my air,
pursuing my scent
in sweet fragrant fields,
where devouring tastes
of bohemian spirit,
delicately descend
in subsistent sighs.
Distracting the
tones of silence,
from subtle susurrus echoes,
like a tender
sakura breeze
kissing fresh
lavender blossoms.
Set adrift in
shades of yesterday,
dandelions bloom
in flourishing orchards,
prostrating to the
mercy of your grace.
But tread carefully
through
the hall of
dream crashers,
where strange streams
from nightmarish tears,
drizzle down,
composing
somber serenades,
choreographed
from an
enchanted symphony.
For l've seen the
invisible reality,
twinkling across streetlights
of sumptuous stars.
Distance is
an unspoken truth,
just a rainbow
away from roaming freely,
within an
evergreen paradise
above bougainvillea skies.
If this was the last poem,
before my last sigh,
today will be the day,
red of rose will
kill my bleeding ink,
so let lyrical acrolect
of poetry fill your thoughts,
look for 'you' and 'I
in the island of love,
where there's no
thunder without lightning,
nor “sea" without 'waves of us'
These distractions
of desolated dunes
are mere signs
of the wounded warrior
within me.
I'm waltzing through
vibrant valleys of white lilies,
in the hope of finding
lost gravity,
which overcomes trials and trepidation.
l'll always be your
lighthouse on lonely nights,
at the edge of
bioluminescent sand lines.
A haven where your
clusters of couplets,
will transcribe an
alchemist's poetic remedy.
Each verse will portray the
personal poem of my soul,
infused in a
profusion of soothing
cosmic hues.
As raindrops kiss
your face, they'll heal
those lamenting
leather lips-
for you are
the wind carrying clouds,
I am the ripples
crying to touch your sky.
The time ticks by
As I stare at the clock
Knowing my near future.
Just sitting
Waiting.
No news, no change.
Storms rage,
Confusion, resignation, consternation .
The time seems slower somehow.
Like the whole world still turns but us.
Decisions. Coffee? No coffee?
Who can predict?
People bustle, not knowing, dazed.
Children scream with over tired,
Hot sticky evening air.
All becomes predictable,
We all make a new temporary home here.
As if we are refugees
Clubbed together in our island
Our land of no name
No country.
All set adrift.
Time still ticks by,
Ever slower.
Stretching each second
Elongating the interstitial pauses.
We can do no more.
We eat, drink, shop.
Nothing in those world
Is like an airport delay
Dried Up
Time – Mother Nature – guiding forces of the Grim Reaper,
that guardian Angel, that patient gate keeper.
Autumn leaves, clothed in reds, browns, yellows and gold.
I, a man of experiences, of age – this life has grown cold
in the warmth of the sun, days that are kept fair
- under blue skies, in my crown of white hair –
in time – callous – laying in dark shadows, to wait,
to watch it all crumble – in hand – my fate,
as it is for all, - skeletal remains - as all turns to dust,
as all, in the end, in the final analysis, must
in order to set free - for the soul to be –
all, as all reaches out to become a part of eternity.
Life’s great, glorious ship, set adrift in that black ?, sea,
is life’s journey, what lays ahead for you and me
as we move on into – that question - what will be,
for us, consciously, never to see.
B. J. “A ” 2
September 3rd 2004
Mirabelle orb ascends,
under clementine and pomegranate skies.
Absent,
in delight of daylight.
Eyes set adrift in dawning daydreams.
Calm heart is an oceanic concerto,
flowing along sapphire tones.
Deep breaths walk upon water,
caressed by Poseidon's piano keys.
Pulsating palpitations beat eloquent echoes,
rousing freely along rhythmical ripples.
Searching for symphonic serenity -
composition of waves, amicably,
pave a path towards destiny.
Hope vibrates like Apollos's lyre and lute strings,
as winds whistle lost tunes from Athena's flute.
Melodies of the silent sea summon torpid tides,
as desire merges in harmony with the harbour -
passionately embracing barren shores.
Aroma of dusk's dew cools in night's velvet sheen,
as sinking sun is submerged into the deep blue sea.
Sprinkling of pearls appear - their reflection
shimmering upon watery midnight blue stillness.
In silent clarity of blackness,
flowing footfalls of fate purify -
awakening mind from its reverie.
The Silent One
6 September 2020
Mirabelle - a plum, also known as mirabelle prune or cherry plum, is a cultivar group of plum trees of the genus Prunus. It is believed that the plum was cultivated from a wild fruit grown in Anatolia.
Poseidon, in ancient Greek religion, god of the sea (and of water generally), earthquakes, and horses.
Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. His two musical instruments were the lute and the lyre.
Athena was a talented flute player, as she created it, but others ridiculed her when she played due to her cheeks. In disgust, she threw away the flute and said whoever picked it up and played it would be severely punished.
Plucked flower once clumsily graced a girls curls,
Now crushed in the wake of her ascending swirls,
Comfort be gone as bees holds dust for another,
Swarms of butterfly's doth aimlessly hover,
Yes, it was a bothersome thing,
It will pass for others to bring,
Drizzling fate from silvery clouds of one-liners,
Trickling o'er laughing grass, chuckles from flowers,
Smiles grew everywhere, a forest was chanting,
Far grays thunderous silence mid dull strikes of lightning,
Whilst a cheery red robin sits on a limb,
Gave me a tune and tweeted a hymn,
A rainbow arc set adrift in motionless skies,
Half of that lost in obscure disguise,
A moth sits on my clothes, drawn as if it was light,
Does not budge when shaken, not even a strike,
Eyes on me, as they interpret their assessment and define,
Requires close touches, made speechless, 'twas divine,
Teardrops from elated eyes as fetuses of euphoria,
Forms and slides on cheeks fleeted journey of my utopia,
Breeze stems the short blades that grips the weight of me,
As enmeshed toes wraps in taller swords from cool earth neath, be,
Wanton for more goes unclaimed and was ignored,
Droplets adds, from a few to a downpour, engorged,
Clone the day, immerse it well into aspirations hold, free it back to where fantasy's exist, except the one,
Unfettered I chased myself homeward, drenched yet fulfilled for having lived this day regardless, except the one.
To hold a lover freely with desire
When they dance love's dance in purest fashion
In small rooms paid for that will stoke the fire
That can drain the life blood from love's passion
When heartache's felt leaving scars of regret
And memory's consent begins to drift
The many reasons you try to forget
The disillusioned love you set adrift
To find you played a fool without consent
And wore an actor's coat in every scene
While speaking words of love you now lament
To an empty soul, that you found unclean
To love a lover's heart, their craven need
To claim innocence, to your soul mislead
4/30/17