Long Shadowy Poems
Long Shadowy Poems. Below are the most popular long Shadowy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shadowy poems by poem length and keyword.
Sleep, my little pet.
With small beast paws tucked underneath your small beast chest,
slumber on, sweet cat, with nothing to arrest your little nap.
So are you telepathic now?
Your sweet beast eyes are opened wide to peer as I lean near
to study your eyes flecked gold with oval slits.
I wonder how you see me.
Am I grey or brown or am I some strange shadowy form?
Or in this well-lit room,
am I as vivid to you as the hue in which I'm viewing you?
Here with me, you have no fear,
but when you dream, perhaps you wander ancient plains of Egypt or of Africa,
and catching sight of me inside your dream,
you flee to go prowling through ghostly reeds
where the howls of predators - jackals, coyotes and wolves -
echo in the still of night. Then do you creep into a secret place
to awake in the morning to an orb of sun and go running with companions, tumbling in the grass as you play?
Late in the arid heat of afternoon,
do you lay your beastly head on paws,
and dozing the remainder of the day, dream of a distant space
which is very small and where a strange breed looms?
Where among that breed is one who meets your needs
by bringing you food and who grooms your coat and keeps you safe
who sleeps curled up beside you on her bed,
and who sometimes - curiously -
watches you as you are sleeping?
Oct. 2, 2017 for the IMAGE ME A POEM Contest of Mystic Rose
(Picture #3)
THE HAUNTED HOUSE
While on a tour across the Scottish highland moor
one summer noon I stopped by a Victorian house.
Curious, I entered through the half-closed door,
a dark room filled with antiques I could browse.
In the eerie air before I could call out loud, “anybody in”
the creaking wooden door closed sharply behind me.
In the alarmed mind I pressed the panic button within,
for with all the doors closed the way out I couldn’t see.
I shivered with the creepy feeling of being trapped,
saw a shadowy figure appear in the murky hallway,
as if striding in air into the sinister room he stepped.
Saw his scalded fiery face before he turned it away.
Scared I wailed, “I’m sorry I entered”, as he came near,
“please help, open the door for me, out I should go”.
He looked at me, a single word I didn’t hear him utter.
He walked silently to the door in a floating stride slow.
How he opened so softly the heavy door I couldn’t see,
I rushed out in a breath to the open in flood of sunlight.
Before I could turn back quickly the door closed on me,
I couldn’t say “thank you”, the man was out of sight.
In nearby village I queried about the man and the house,
I’m told if anyone lived in the haunted house they’d know.
In the outhouse fire that took them a long time to dowse
the lone caretaker was burnt to death some two years ago.
August 22, 2018
Contest : The Haunted House
Spnsored by : Dear Heart
They scold me constantly
“I did not help”
They accuse me of being “arrogant”
When I do speak
They ignore me inconsiderately
The truth is
I do care of doing thee stuff
Solely
I do not receive help when needed
And nor shall help be returned
I sink in my wretchedness
And sleep with my sorrow
That part has become the part of me
So empty and hollow
I begin to think this life
Did thee erase any tracks that follow…,
My corrupted path?
Not to be followed
Not to be solved
Not to be loved
Not to be known
The thoughts twisted negligently in thee baffled mind
And though thee fates carry new tracks
With a sore throat and a twisted mind
I lay with an astray heart
Sinking into a sleep
Sinking into the shadowy black pitch night
Reflecting my emptied soul
Surrendering…
Never resisting the calm sense of serenity
Shadowy White
With A Staff Of Sequoia
Woe-Fully
Stir All The Seas
To A Dread Deeper Hue…
More Green!
More Red!
Now More Blue, Again…
Deeper
Blue…
***
Tidally Spread
All The Heat
There Misled…
Warm The Palid
Frigid Face
Of The Head,
The Carapace!
Of The Icy Invalid,
Southern,
Skewed,
Haven's
Stars
Crossed!
***
Until
The
Mountains
Are Covered!
And Lost!
***
Then Reborn In
Fire, Even Higher!
And Now High-Higher!!
OVER-GROWN !!!
***
***
To
Under-Go…
To Bury
And
Re-Grow…
Is
The
***
One.
***
***
Which Is:
***
Well Known.
***
***
***
-Gray Squirrel
06-12-2025
Deep in the woods, nearly three miles back,
far from New York with its tall glass and steel,
on a low ridge that has no proper name,
I stumble on something that feels surreal.
An old-growth forest grove, somehow survived
the thirst of furnaces and logging claims,
straight white pines that, in centuries past,
would’ve been masts for ships sailing the main.
Thick, furrowed bark runs up the branchless trunks
up to a one-hundred-fifty foot height,
maybe they’ll never beat a sequoia,
but in the east, they’re one hell of a site.
Now this hidden plot has dozens of trees
that must be six-feet in width at the base,
throwing so much shade the undergrowth dies,
and you can walk easily through the space.
Jail-bars of light that somehow make it down
do little against the shadowy cool,
fleet squirrels will scamper, disrupting the calm,
as they’re chittering away like young fools.
Trunks rising around me like buttresses,
smooth boulders scattered about are the pews,
the altar is the crest of the low ridge,
for a service know to a blessed few.
Birds high above are impromptu choirs,
communion wine is the babbling brook,
mosses are vestments, worn close to the earth,
pine needles are incense when by the wind shook.
I may like those churches of wood and stone,
but for all of their grace and beauty,
somehow they cannot hold their own against
a seemingly random mish-mash of trees.
How nature so red in tooth and in claw
can create something stately and sublime
out of the chaos that Darwin’s law brings,
has always baffled my poor, human mind.
But feeling so small against aged giants
makes me think these is much more yet unseen,
I do not think it can be an accident
that there exists such a place so serene.
Much as I’d like to show you all the path,
I fear doing so would only end wrong,
great trees last longer when they are unknown,
and I mean for this grand place to live on.
u play the part of death so well
The drama queen - welcome to home sweet hell
Ring a bell
Yeah I know your tell
Succubus nocturnal always on the make
Far too nefarious to suffer a mistake
Dressed to thrill, eyes that will
Priceless, will never be left to pay the bill
Anywhere you go there is an unmistakable chill.
You want it all and you want the rest
Too much ain't enough
And you will mesmerize and terrorize until you've had your fill
Just another Vampiress fable of fallacy
Tarnishing the reputation of the mystical and mysterious
Vampire elite.
With your enchanting dominance, and daunting, veiled ominous
How can you be so ruthless and without conscious
Sucking in then spitting out
Just you-you-you, and that's all you care about
Smiling secrets, telling lies, breaking lives, and pretending to cry
Capable but unable to exist with regal, shadowy stealth..
Poor little vivacious vixen
Pouting and brooding is your only fight
Using and abusing yet claiming everyone is ganging up on you
So STOP! cuz you're so sensitive
Yeah - PSYCHE!
This otherworldly life is so tragic
You can't see the magic
So back you will go, to your coffin in the tomb
And go ahead hold onto what never was
While sadly for you this is the END
Of your NEVERAGAIN.....
By my window, I stay and watch children play
I can hear their shouts of joy and hilarity.
Like tiger cubs, sometimes they fight,
Alerting the neighborhood to their noisy gaiety.
This scene has taken me back to my childhood.
As I move my hands through grooves of the past,
Before me opens, lovely vistas of happy days!
When such shadowy phantoms fill my brain
I yearn to be reborn once more a child.
As tiny kids, we ran down grassy slopes,
Looking for wild blooms and butterflies.
Ran up high hills to gather wild berries
Our carefree days, buoyant like bubbles.
Gone are those sweet times of frolic
With springing steps, wrapped in wonder~
Is it the death of verdant spring?
Or autumn’s ripe mellowing?
As a bygone sunset, the joy of childhood is gone.
Lost in tides of time. Will we ever get it back?
Childhood- a sweet gift, once and for all…
Six robins hop among the gravestones
silent
staring
monuments
Names, dates, inscriptions
shadowy reminders
about lives beneath
unsettled bones
charred fragments of love
Six robins hop
in their fiery vests
feathery red embers
on terrain explored
for sparse morsels
pecking March's crumpled ground
Gritty resilience
like the lives beneath
still seeded
in the living
Speak louder, don't hush...
let the words flow freely;
we've come here to hide
from intruders's eyes and find
a secretive place for our passion
to be consumed so sweetly!
Where does love come from...
if not from the warmest feeling
set ablaze by a fervent desire?
Mistaking it for unjustified lust...
can only leave footsteps in the dust,
to be erased by an up-coming storm;
will anyone hear the crickets' song,
or see the long branches brush our hair?
Dream by the shadowy moonlight...
relish this dream so inescapable,
these hours will slowly pass
to let us explore the incredible;
cling to me, and be inseparable...
no harm will come from this darkness!
Breath through me with delight,
and rumble through this silent soul!
Where does love come from...
does it ever make us wonder
how our joy is forever told?
Inside, we overjoy and shamelessly
take it to the extremes and beyond compare,
but abandon it when it treats us unfairly!
“A bouquet of spring color adorns natures breast,
seductive banquet for flickering wings.” Quote_ by poet
The full moon sets a beautiful meek touch
Of midnight blue with its dappled beauty.
Whimsical romantic face, quite fruity.
Gray clouds try to obscure its passion such.
A radiant flickering approach, rouse
Crisp whiff embrace, awakes a lingering
Perfect calm, and benign fragrance of spring,
Bursting blooms underneath shadowy boughs.
Fairy focus on pleasing purity
With her watering pot, sprinkling nature
With indulgence, a rainbow overture,
Watercolor in its simplicity.