Long Shaft Poems

Long Shaft Poems. Below are the most popular long Shaft by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shaft poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Love's Brambles

Loves Brambles


Dare ye challenge love’s fine beneficence
its longing double edged sweep – parry, thrust
succumb to passion’s pure magnificence
ignore the warnings of self centered lust

Awaken to the pillows empty scent
wince at the searing cut of unfelt blade
recoil at softened thoughts of beauty spent
laid waste beneath the edge of lust’s dark spade

Hear ye the distant whimper of the lamb
bleeding amid the brambles of deceit
seduced by Satan’s brew of sip and dram
lust’s soul laid waste - victory as defeat

Harken all who would hoist lust’s bladed shaft
love’s joust is not a contest but a craft.



9/1/2016
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member ''To Write, Write, Write''


          In the middle of the universe, I stand,
In a dream, I am fascinated by natural landscapes;
     Where nature reigns supreme in everything,
               And elegant cool images soothe my soul.

          In a shaft of light the scene is divine,
A forest radiant and strangely unreal with beauty;
     Vibrant passages of light and colour swirl,
               With a deep sense of stilled energy.

          The universe in a moment of rest,
Engaged in silent prayer that stills my breath;
     And soon I enter a lost herbal garden,
               Serene, verdant, tranquil and tangled.

         There is a mood of ethereal visions,
In this overgrown and partly decayed Eden;
     My fluttering garments float in the breeze,
               In this strange beautiful emptiness.

          Through sinuous broken branches,
A brick derelict building stands alone hauntingly;
     I enter the open doorway with no hesitation,
               And I stand in a room perfectly calm.

          Soon a wild gust of wind begins to wail,
And on a table written pure white papers spill;
    Spinning and twirling like a storm of butterflies,
               And I feel my muse summon me.

                   "To write, write, write . . ." 



____________________________
February 5, 2015

Poetry/Verse/''To write, write, write''
Copyright Protected, ID 02-638-423-05
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France

For the contest, In The Middle Of The Universe, I Stand, 
Sponsor Verlena S. Walker, Judged 02/2015

Second Place
Form: Verse

Premium Member A Series of Unfortunate Darwin Awards

The Darwin Awards are a posthumous honor, recognizing those who have improved the human gene pool by removing themselves from it by their own foolish actions.

In a robbery way out in Long Beach
Elliot's handgun misfired in the breech
    Down the barrel he took
    A quite scatterbrained look
Then made it more than a figure of speech

There was a foolish fellow named Gary
Who gulped gasoline over near Cary
    The fuel made him gag
    So he fired up a ***
And now smokes in the state mortuary

"Look, no helmet!" Phil proudly decried
In the headgear disobedience ride
    He stood for his rights
    Then put out his lights
When he flew off his Electra Glide

An impatient Korean got miffed
And was ramming the doors of the lift
    Then went a bit daft
    When he got the shaft
But his ride to the bottom was swift

References:
http://jdgroover.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/the-2013-darwin-awards-are-out/
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2012-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2011-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2010.html
© Roy Jerden  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member The Time Has Come

The time has come
to generate the retrospective
ambiguities etched in stone
perplexing to the underside
of the recriminations
sliding to the conservative right

The dance goes on
skittering and sliding
along shiny glass floors
powered by locomotive
puffing into clouds,
you gaze into space

Dreams of a more envious
pastoral speckle intuitions
of a well developed humanoid.
Beyond your wildest expectations
the illusion goes on
spitting, sputtering

in a steadfast manner
driven buy imperfections
of days gone bye.
You long for the resurrection
to circumcise possibilities
of a shaft driven turbo

turning to and fro
stifling transgressions
into a tumultuous radiance
blinding to the monstrous
aftermath of an illustrious
stiletto heal.

Premium Member Wetland Song

The April morning's quiet
and so is the November.
Wherever people outnumber trees
or the dominant cover type
is unquiet. Nothing wrong with that.
Walt got it right, and Jane Jacobs:
the city is an experienced,
used beauty. Her toes are long,
nails thick and hair thin. Yet
her kisses can be sweet; or
smell of ****. All my life I've tried to point my window toward
some narrow wedge of nature.
On Seaman Ave., over the roof
beyond the chimneys to the park
where every dog was walked.
Could I survive soot and an air shaft now, pigeons and cats,
or even a desk in the legislature for my lot in life. How about
prison like Etheridge Knight,
Nazim Hikmet?
I've gotten soft.
When he builds that house in the pocket
wetland my window now looks out on,
the developer will have given me what I need.
Amphibian mortality,
gravel, fill,
oak, ash and maples felled. Good
to the last drop is our bitterness, our love.
Form: Verse


Premium Member Supannika

 the very first time I saw you
you totally captivated my heart
never had any idea or single clue
but I’m already in love with you since the  start
just your name is such a beauty without a doubt

I could hardly believe that you’re real
until I’ve finally touched and held you one by one
falling down from those wand-like branches as in hail
carpeting the dark green bermuda grasses on the ground
with all my zest I gathered you gladly all around

your big round petals shine so bright like a brilliant sun
my faint notion that you’re a hand-made crepe paper
now has passed its way and finally gone
all I wish, when I dance you’ll adorn  my hair
I’ll be proudly making you into garlands for a special affair

in my eyes, you’re one of the emblems of royalty
in this beautiful kingdom and lovely place
while local and foreign folks are all enjoying their stay
you’re providing them an atmosphere with solace
in your yellow color is  a shaft of light for peace

Supannika, with my  piquancy I am  taking you  home
to introduce you that you’re such a special kind
a radiant flower to float on water will lastly bloom
most  especially I’ve a great idea in my mind
you’ll be a wonderful gift to my loved ones on Valentines

Written:  Feb. 10, 2012






Second Place
Contest: Simple Title
Judged: 3/9/13
Poet Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
© Len Gasun  Create an image from this poem.

High

harvest from the terrestrial
Mother Nature giving her best.
pastures green on the other side
Man's canal gift from Mother Earth

Get your thoughts in from books.
grinded, marshed in crucibles
seiving out the shaft, lest it chokes
wrapping into boluses, bit by bit

Light up the scenes in merry
sending shivers down the throat
popping out mystery mist
while wrapped round in cocoons

Glory, glory, celestials
levitating into the abode of enlightenment
seeing clear visions hidden in the fog
looking down on terrestrial beings as tiny ants

An epidural intake to calm the pain
until I'm lost in its mirage.
My status reading is "High."

Premium Member Shaft of Light

From somewhere in the pitch of night,
comes a remnant from my childhood.
The door lets in a crack of light,
and there, outlined, where mother stood
is a silhouette, against the wood.

And, as if a star had gone astray
she would touch my hair and kiss my brow,
and brush my worries far away,
while letting me allow,
my eyes to close for sleep, somehow

And as the years have come and gone
I've often wished for just one night,
from where she is, her light was thrown...
And that somehow in the dead of night,
the door allowed the shaft of light

______________________________________________________
8/27/15

The Sun Is There To Rise

Door arrives door disappears
Door deprives door shares
Had doors been toward one way only
Life would have lost its lustre

With one hand life provides
With the other life robs us
Life sometimes brutally divides
Some other time it is Mother Teresa

When my doors closed several times
I wept but didn’t stop reading poems
My chromosomes of hope kept me supporting
Till a shaft of sunlight brought new doors 


The deep green Neem tree in my dream garden
Went into a dizzyingly birdless  gloom
Leaves and flowers brutally plundered
Roots torn asunder in my room

But again one day the spring sun stopped by
Clouds called at its door with shower
In the windswept branches came contentment
Now I hug it in a happy deep breath

____________________________________________________ 
March 26, 2016
Neem is a tree in the mahogany family Meliaceae. It is native to India, Myanmar, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Pakistan. It grows in tropical and semi-tropical regions. Products made from neem have been used in India for over two millennia for their medicinal properties. They are said to be antifungal, antidiabetic, antibacterial, antiviral, contraceptive andsedative. Neem products are also used in selectively controlling pestsin plants. Neem is considered a part of Ayurvedic medicine. – Simple English Wikipedia

Bat Crazy 5



"Bat Crazy 5"


Some say

she was batsh** crazy
life hits the windscreens 
in the labyrinth of life
that way

the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand 
holding hard-gripped the gear stick

an upwards inflection, “You know”,
in the Queen’s Land, "all under control"
the open palm under the shaft
moving all the way up to 5, 

reflecting on the mirror rearview
she watches the eyes
of her child
dreaming of open highways

the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand
holding hard-gripped the gear stick

never once moving from 5 
the left all the way up to targa 5
right hand up on the wheel
left hand down right up to 5

windows spitting emeralds
like a baphomet 
the two finger salute
the other above so below

watches on

"here we go again",
the 1 above it all 
watches on 
as above so below

that 1's long-suffering 
that way, aghast, but resolute, 
that 1 has never-ending reserves 
of eternal patience

and watches on 
perplexed

her mind geared on 
how to kill off 
a spider 
and his sister, next

changing lanes
easier said than done
when you're hell-bent on 
Freedom

the highway sign 
Happy New Year 
flashes ever onwards by, 
foot to the floor 

left brain baffled
at forgiveness
at Christmas 
long gone by 

right hand on the wheel
left hand down 
open palmed 
shifting gears 

accelerating increduality
towards the accuracy 
in the justice of karma 
drivers sitting on both shoulders

inside the vehicle 
holding the wheel
the internal speaks
to the universe 

listening 
for kindness 
and answers
on a lost highway

Blue Sky 
nods, as if in agreement,
that 1's always amused -
but never confused, that way

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)






“Is it possible to switch dimensions? 

There is currently no conceivable way to get to these if they exist, and they may only be possible, not actual. To travel between realities, they need to be in proximity. To be in proximity and not interact, they need to be incompatible. If it is a compatible universe you could travel to, it is already here.” 



"Won’t you let me know, 
if you made it home that night
Oh won’t you let me know
If our bones made it home alright..."
Form: Narrative

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