Long Sheers Poems
Long Sheers Poems. Below are the most popular long Sheers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sheers poems by poem length and keyword.
A tad over three blocks down Merion Lane
on the left is, an idyllic Cape Cod.
I must've passed it a thousand times
my own picturesque, perfect, postcard place
couched in the right light, dappling rays
fresh-painted, white fence, ruby red front door.
Never once did I not try looking in,
a golden kickplate, bright brass knocker ring.
Begging to be seen, this family within
lotsa plain pane windows, no blinds, no sheers.
There it still stands proudly these many years.
In deep snows that had filled front walkways
in warming, romantic, radiated, lustrous light
hearth hues burst through the panes beyond the glass.
One spring, I saw a fine fetching lass run
across this closely manicured front lawn with her
bouncing blonde, long locks, glowing gleefully.
I mused as I passed by half-staring;
we'd marry maybe, wishful pairing!
And have a dreamy storybook Cape Cod too.
That fall, our family moved far away.
But was I not to see her, who's to say?
Still, I remember that house, that dream
I might've married her, my crazy scheme.
Last night it snowed. Drove that road again.
Five years later, that same house was still there.
On the outside, the front door now lime green.
Inside, a fire burns brilliant like before.
I saw this striking blonde while I gawked.
Startled, the green door opens, she walked
across the snowy street, without her coat.
Poised, she stood there and said straight to me,
"Aren't you the boy who used to stare?",
through my window I gush, "Why yes, I am."
She said she'd wondered about me,
even though they'd never known my name.
Star-crossed, my illusion had dreamt back!
Those private affections landed somehow:
illusions can come true, they often do.
Left my car, took her hand, then went inside;
over a cozy cocoa we chatted.
No longer a star from afar - so near.
New worlds would now open for us right here.
Lost love came home to the house down the road.
Written 2/19/21
~
Whispering apricot beams shine upon frilly sheers,
lazy shadows dance in daffodil dawn colors,
pirouettes of pleasured moments,
silently flowing on smooth brush stroke walls
You breathe, softly, the sweetest sonnet,
rhythmically exhaling beneath satin sheets
symphonic…bringing a grin to the sunrise,
blushing clouds hide behind a bashful horizon
Placing a gentle kiss upon rose petal shoulders,
you stir ever so slightly…eyes flutter like chiffon wings
hugging the pillow wistfully, floating within,
cascading between dreams of us
Exploring the mesmerizing curves of your body,
my lips touch warm porcelain skin,
the faintest sigh escapes, a smile appears
as your wispy fingers seek my own
Probing gentle folds, serene recesses of silken slivers
sipping the morn’s perfect elixir, ambrosia,
seeing your eyes wide open now
and falling once more deeply into their hypnotic beauty
Hands fondle my hair, wavy lengths, grasping
tickling heated embraces, melting into the warmth,
maple syrup cravings, sweetened stickiness in
pleasure flavored temptations
Sunshine illumines the room with sparkled effervescence,
writhing deep into the blue sky destinations,
azure visions of springtime promises kept
and green grass wanderings
I rise with you, fall with you…with this perfect time,
mirroring movements in reflective crescendos, rapidly,
as your voice sings my name, feathered pillow melodies,
an ending ovation in hummingbird inspired quivers
And you collapse, tethered breaths, tiny giggles
pulling the sheets tight to your chin playfully
I peer up, cinnamon eyes gleam, twinkle,
rejoicing as brand new day begins…in love
~
It is an unusually cold morning here so
I thought I would repost this and warm
the place up a little. : )
Dawning Desires
Whispering apricot beams shine upon frilly sheers,
lazy shadows dance in daffodil dawn colors,
pirouettes of pleasured moments,
silently flowing on smooth brush stroke walls
You breathe, softly, the sweetest sonnet,
rhythmically exhaling beneath satin sheets
symphonic…bringing a grin to the sunrise,
blushing clouds hide behind a bashful horizon
Placing a gentle kiss upon rose petal shoulders,
you stir ever so slightly…eyes flutter like chiffon wings
hugging the pillow wistfully, floating within,
cascading between dreams of us
Exploring the mesmerizing curves of your body,
my lips touch warm porcelain skin,
the faintest sigh escapes, a smile appears
as your wispy fingers seek my own
Probing gentle folds, serene recesses of silken slivers
sipping the morn’s perfect elixir, ambrosia,
seeing your eyes wide open now
and falling once more deeply into their hypnotic beauty
Hands fondle my hair, wavy lengths, grasping
tickling heated embraces, melting into the warmth,
maple syrup cravings, sweetened stickiness in
pleasure flavored temptations
Sunshine illumines the room with sparkled effervescence,
writhing deep into the blue sky destinations,
azure visions of springtime promises kept
and green grass wanderings
I rise with you, fall with you…with this perfect time,
mirroring movements in reflective crescendos, rapidly,
as your voice sings my name, feathered pillow melodies,
an ending ovation in hummingbird inspired quivers
And you collapse, tethered breaths, tiny giggles
pulling the sheets tight to your chin playfully
I peer up, cinnamon eyes gleam, twinkle,
rejoicing as brand new day begins…in love
Good morning Soupers
The children that played
On the stairwell that night
Were giggling and laughing
At their little friend’s fright
For while they were jumping
And playing on beds
She walked down the stairwell
Alone; then she fled.
She knew that she heard it.
The sound was quite clear.
Only she on the stairs
Along with her fears –
No one believed her.
They laughed; and she sighed.
Then, ran to their mother.
And told her wide-eyed.
The mother said softly.
There’s no need to fear.
The ghosts in this house
Are not real, little dear.
When at last she was calm
And went back up to play.
The children were ready
There were pranks on that day.
Upstairs in their bedroom
The lamplight was on
The window was open.
The breezes wafted by.
A Barbie doll taped
In the lamp by her hips –
The other girls giggled
Each one smirked tight-lipped.
When back with the others
They were jumping on beds.
Soon huddled together,
They pointed with dread.
The curtains were moving.
Subtle puffs of the wind.
Shadows on sheers swaying,
“We saw a ghost, there!”
She swore as she screamed,
I’ll never come back!”
“This place is haunted
And that is a fact.
No adult reassuring
Could undo her fright.
She stayed awake and watched
To the other girls’ delight –
When the party was over,
The children went home.
The others still laughing
About the joke of the night –
It was three years later
In the darkness of night,
I walked down the steps
And had the same fright!
Shhhhh!
Happy Halloween.
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
October 24, 2014
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest Ghost Stories
Sponsor Kelly Deschler
Stolen Sunlight From Moon's Surface
Stolen sunlight
ripped from the Moon’s surface
the blinding light of your soul sheers clean my reflective powers
you tore away the mirrors
I am left naked before your gaze
the clock down the hall that ticked so loudly for so many years stopped
instantly
on that day…
the day you opened your smile to my
eyelids…kissing them
shocked and appalled by your advance
(the leather chaps you once wore
you wear no more
and the chain saws stopped their incessant roar)
the leaves fell from the trees
snow blanketed my pain with white barren
questing waves of peace
I stole a sideways glance at your nose
The cut
so sharp of your chin
The absolute perfection of God’s creation
Your ear!
Your hands bent by pain
Looked like bird’s nests for me to rest in
And I was the shadow rainbow ‘of a thousand natives sprung
Sprawled wide and true across every single horizon
Born to the shore to eat !...In plenty the copious gifts of the sea
The fish swam to me and asked to be my feed
the grass sprung up beneath my feet
the clover begged me to rest a while in the daisy fertile fields
I was the crocus of spring !
The beckoning of a mother’s call for dinner!
I was the park where children play
The picnic spread wild and wondrous…and Strawberry rich
I was baked goods and coffee
I was laughter and drenching …drenching truest tears
All in the moment
the very moment
in which you ripped the sunlight off the moon’s surface and gave it to me
with your first quenching
wrenching smile
Wet skies
Grey dawn
Blankets the coast.
Black rocks
Sea foam
Triggers the most
Atlantic applause,
An encore to those
Just hearty enough
To make a life on The Rock.
And to answer the call,
Between stone cracks,
Moss roots,
And squalls,
A garden was planted
Where nothing
Had grown
Before.
Before...
Before the Gardener came
The coast was a love-lettered painting,
A bouquet to the sun,
Orange, red, and yellow flattery
Through living imitation.
"Seek ye first the kingdom of God,"
Said the sign
On the gate
At the edge of St Johns.
"But I think I've finally found it,"
Said the man
Creeping silent
With his too sharp sheers
Cutting flowers
Uninvited. -
- Everyone's front lawn
A memory
Of what united
Them for two score years.
Bloody hands dropping pedals on his way to the shore,
"Don't worry," said the man,
"I don't want to come back,
With any luck," he said again,
"I think this should be enough."
As he placed in the arrangement
A note that read,
"Je suis
Désolé.
Bitte fragen Sie nicht
Für mehr."
100 years ago, July 1st, 1916, the entire Newfoundland and Labrador regiment was killed at Beaumont-Hamel, during the Battle of the Somme in World War I. Of 780, only 68 reported for roll-call the next day.
After 40 some years of having no military of their own, they had mustered up a unit of volunteers to support the war effort. 90% of them never made it through their first engagement.
Canada Day isn't just about celebrating.
Gravity pulls the sun below the horizon
Dragged to depths of darkness
Shadows widespread screaming and attacking
Compressing me to depressed
Murky depths
Sniffs that tease light
Coughs echoing fears
In a pitch black night
Enclosed within my tears
They close in inch by inch
Fantasizing escape
I will not let them lynch
With one giant breath
I push with all my might
Lifting up the ocean
The sun is now in sight
Night that flips to day
Black that turns to blue
I'm black and blue but still
This feeling`s all so true
I stare straight at the sun
The weight becomes so light
Darkness now forbidden
A bright heavenly sight
Every prayer answered
I'm one with all that's known
Woe blessed with words of wisdom
True peace I have been shown
Battling blinding blotches
No scar can hold me down
I throw over the anchor
The grinding gears give sound
Little to my acknowledgment
I threw a spanner in my works
The cogs slip, slide and sliver
Something wicked this way lurks
Quick as a flash
Quite the opposite indeed
Buried in broken beliefs
Receding to the weed
With sheers I cut and trimmed
Heavy hacks with axe
Growing faster still
Immune to my attacks
I dug deep in the dirt
The spade my only aid
Revealing every root
The futile faults that fade
Unearthed to decompose
Enriching all the soil
The wind carrying sunflower seeds
Relieves me of my toil
THE SACRED GARDEN
The hearts love, is the tenderest of mercy's,
Delicate petals of emotion, a rose blossom
Of sheer beauties distinction.
That grows within the inner being, deeply
Rooted in our most sacred garden, of
Pleasures secret desires.
Vines woven intricately, weaving a thick
Tapestry, of the evergreen leaves of texture, giving
A depth of feeling to the creative soul,
Whom dwells within the artist.
Nurtured by inspiration, it's lights warmth,
Feeding the poetic inward drive to thrive,
And grow beyond the lotus structure,
Called the human body.
A pondering mind seeking to reach
Outwardly, to touch the moon and stars,
In the heaven's above.
Oh to cut freely away from my tethers,
The tangled vines of life I've weaved,
To be set free, to float away as a seed onto
A distant breeze, landing in a new pastures
Flowering bed.
But nay, I am but a mortal rose, and life
Can be cut short by the twisting sheers of fate.
Lingering thus my words reach out, as legacy's
Inheritance, my forget-me-knots, for future
Generations to come.
In this my most sacred garden, my words of
Emotions shall live on for them, my youthful children,
The true physical sprouts of my life's labors.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Time slips away
In a brisk flow,
Ooze of nine days
Where writes don't show.
A spinal pain
From a wound old,
Comes yet again
As hurt unfolds.
A pain so deep
As backache sheers,
To disturb sleep
In moments clear.
A fatal step
In awkward turn,
Can set pain trap
In jerky churn.
So much pain hurls
In spinal cord,
A stabbing curl
In sure record.
TCM touch
Has brought healing,
Body as such
With heart willing.
The cure is slow
As trunk repairs,
Day by day grow
A health gains flair.
Time wears a poise
Where mind finds peace,
By profound choice
A new-found ease.
Words now come round
To tell most brief,
Healing now grounds
A silent grief.
Pain travels well
In body whole,
For hurts can tell
Of spacious soul.
Here by this chair
In posture firm,
I sit with flair
As words affirm.
Leon Enriquez
14 October 2018
Singapore
(Note: TCM means Traditional Chinese Medicine
which includes acupuncture, heat treatment, and
bone-setting alignment, as well as herbal medicine
and herbal plaster to alleviate pain and enhance
healing of body injury such as spinal bone and
muscle or ligament injury or misalignment.)
My greatest inspiration comes
in the darkest of rooms.
My bedroom holds no lamps,
my windows covered with shades-
Fear not…
for I am content when
the sun descends and the
twilight rises.
The beauty of my opacity resides inside
the meaning of my existence.
I was born at three a.m.-
in complete murky darkness.
There’s elegance in the dim-
There’s clarity in the loss
of light.
It’s cold,
yet warm when I enter the shadows.
It’s noisy,
yet quiet in my head as I wallow in
what some may call prison,
but not me, I call it my fortress.
I find myself in darkness,
for the light bears no witness to
my shame-
I hold the fear of a fallen angel,
and yet…
the darkness rises above
to relieve the pain of an ignited kindle.
Shroud me in sheers and shield me
from daybreak-
Lightheartedness shines
when darkness radiates-
Euphoria prevails
when shades of black beam.
Dusk instead of dawn,
black instead of white-
Blind instead of perception,
Darkness instead of light.
March 18, 2017