Long Shroud Poems
Long Shroud Poems. Below are the most popular long Shroud by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shroud poems by poem length and keyword.
We have to rebirth, the soul of this planet
and pray it be cleansed and gentled evermore,
but as nails keep piercing
hands reach to smooth across her scared shroud
It has to be worshipped
like the apostle to the apostles,
but with a feast of celebration everyday
dressed in her finest,
she must be read and chronicled by scribes of all ages
If her spirit cries out for a easing, for the torment
that embroiders across and through her linen,
rent from the abuse and torture of her kin
having sewn by the hands, that marred her
our sacrifice,
will take Millenniums
to ponder at the fibers of her cloth,
for in the beginning,
as the interweave of her shroud
we started to spin,
Great wheels through time
our redemption,
to sew a forever
that rebirths from our torments
Dedicated the P.K.Page
Written: July 24, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
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Note: This is the Open (organic) VERSE created by Brian Strand and using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols; the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond, thus making this enigmatic form a two-way interplay & interpretation unique to the moment
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wordless
sanctum
portals
cleaving
anchored
in
invocations
shroud-bound
effulgence—
vellum
&alabaster
fluttering
guising flesh
in
a clean slate
fettered
by
silence
ghost-scripted
expunged
orisons
canvas
bloom
weathered sheen
of
tether-tint
a
nailing soul
interlaced
exhumed
unbegotten
ebbing voice
forgotten
in a
breach
of
canonical hours
as
seeds
sprouting—
sky etched
wave-washed
sentence
retribution
under
a dust-turn
of
ink
& oblivion
The first, carefree summer day a somnolent tune doth swagger
An intense heat hovers then releases a permeable dagger
Sapped of inner resolve, at noon retired to shaded bower, a truant
lagger
At eventide, resuscitated from the cool respite, from my shielded
lair did stagger
The next, searing day shorn of shirt and shoes but with my dignity
intact
I alight from my screened porch assured that my taut skin would
the beaming waves refract
A soothing, afternoon breeze ripples; my chest hairs retract
Traipsing along, unencumbered by the elements, I skip through the
manicured tract
My bare feet absorbing the ground's subducted heat
Disheveled hair, a fluttering mane swaying to my hip hop beat
The soft grass blades caressing my knobby ankles like a velvety
sheet
A winged armada skirting the shock waves pulsing from my
reproaching feet
Treading into lush, green garden cloaked with ingratiating beams
of light
Each, leafy tent bowing paying homage to the sun's infernal might
The pleasant aroma of waxy corn leaves and glossy ferns my
nostrils delight
The sweet scent of mellow berries and ripening mellons my taste
buds insight
At dusk, my barefoot odyssey abruptly comes to an end
A grizzled, sizzled wayfarer, to my artificial estate I slowly wend
Blithe journey my spirits exulted, but pain in my tendered parts did
the sublimity ammend
A cherry red shroud covering a weathered rind looking for soothing
balms my misery to tend
The Gods split us in half;
from two mouths and four eyes,
from two noses and four legs,
from two hairlines and four hands,
we became one, singular -
Plato tells us so.
Yet we continue, we strive,
to merge and meld,
to link and join,
to hold and partner
and comfort and shroud
our 'other', our missing jigsaw piece.
Think of Noah and his two by two,
even condiments on dinner tables;
see proverbs with ying and yang,
feel gravity - a push and a pull.
What is flame without match?
What is ink without pen?
What is throw without catch?
What is egg without hen?
The Gods split us in two,
Plato tells us so,
and we search, search,
for the fingers and ears,
the toes and the lungs,
for the shins and spine,
the knees and the tongue
that make up our 'one';
our mosaic, whole.
But a hand and a paw,
or a mouth and a jaw;
an owner's skin and a scale,
or derrière and pet's tail,
can be that mosaic and jigsaw,
that split half, the key and the door
for some.
Silvergray: This the color
Spread like a shroud over wet brown earth
As rainmists hang low,
Submerging the land in a sea of clouds.
All the world should be asleep today
Thoughts wandering uncalled
Through wide dream landscapes,
Communing with nameless wonders
That populate our deeper, silent halves.
The great circle of living and dying rolls on,
Distinctions blurring in the wider scheme
As all comes down to the same, in the end,
Because:
Beneath the greening of the summerwarmed earth
Corruption proceeds in its slow work
Feeding the living on the fruits of its breakage
Of the form and substance of the dead.
Somewhere someone's just given birth;
New eyes open to wonder at this world.
Somewhere someone's dying;
Eyes closing to wonder at another.
Decrepit Poetry Contest by Constance La France
1st Place
The sad sun, a tired sight, no longer gleams
On the old bones, where life once brightly burned.
A quiet fall now haunts neglected dreams,
And each active color to trash has turned.
The beams all groan, an unhappy, deep sigh,
As garbage eats the tree logs, mild and deep.
A window shade of ruin meets the eye,
Where quiet dimness lasting lookout keep.
No delight stays in cabins dark and cold,
Without sound stirs where chuckle used to play.
A worn story, in vanished lines unfolds,
What once was tough now yields to slow decay.
A decrepit frame, once majestic, proud,
Now echoes secrets to the sacred shroud.
The sky is overcast tonight.
No moon will light our path.
The air is damp, a little chill,
As dew form on the grass.
Here and there a star peeks out,
From behind a drifting cloud,
Reminding me of the beauty there,
Beneath the billowing shroud,
Of dark grey clouds that cover up,
The diamonds in the sky,
And tease me with a little glimpse,
As they go drifting by.
I love the early morning,
When all the world's at peace.
I'll take the dogs out for their run,
Release them from their leash;
And as they cavort merrily,
And sniff the ground and play,
I watch them and enjoy their mirth,
And I'm as glad as they;
To be here in Your presence Lord,
For where else can be found,
The kind of peace that we enjoy,
And the beauty that surrounds,
Each and every creature,
Who seeks Your face tonight.
The hour really matters not,
With You the time is right.
You're always there whene'er I call,
Reaching out Your hand,
And I just want to let You know,
That knowing You is grand.
In midnight's grasp, a raven took flight,
Its ebony wings adorned with sorrow's might,
Through veils of darkness, it soared alone,
A haunting presence, to worlds unknown.
Its onyx feathers whispered tales of woe,
Echoing through the night, a mournful show,
With piercing eyes, a gaze that could pierce the soul,
It sought solace in the shadows' endless scroll.
Its mournful cry, a dirge of the heart,
Unveiled secrets, tearing worlds apart,
A harbinger of darkness, it perched on high,
An omen of doom, with a mournful sigh.
The raven's caw echoed in the moon's embrace,
Unfolding mysteries with each somber chase,
Its wings, a shroud, concealed the night's lore,
A creature of darkness, forevermore.
Yet, amidst the shadows, a glimmer of light,
A flicker of hope, a chance to set things right,
The Raven danced on the edge of despair,
A symbol of resilience, in the midnight air.
So, let it fly, with its tales untold,
A guardian of secrets, a sight to behold,
For within its ebony guise, hope remains,
The Raven's journey, a testament to change.
The luminous crescent of shining silver sliver ascends
with silent slither on the satin slope of the sapphire sky,
entices the cadence of dancing sequins sprayed by nebula,
pulsates through the phosphorus glow of the argentine night.
Rhapsody rolls on the waltzing ripples of the rapturous river,
performed in the ballet of myriad floating flakes of the moon.
Celestial flecks of your charisma cascade with ethereal lilt,
flood me in the torrential tide of immersing emotion.
The euphoric moon slices spread on the ebullient river,
I hold one in a cup of still water in the palm of my hand.
Beneath the mystique shroud of the stardust sheen
I perceive the esoteric essence of love laced by lunar lure.
In its tranquil depth I drown the dregs of my despair,
torrents of fervent joy flow in serpentine course from you.
The ripples of allure dance on your smiling face in beguiling air,
flicker the shimmer of my soul with the cadence of moonshine.
In the soft glow of twilight's embrace,?Two souls intertwine, lost in time and space.?With a whisper of warmth, like the evening breeze,?Your hazel eyes dance, igniting the trees.
A spectrum of stories, both tender and bold,?In depths of your gaze, countless secrets unfold.?Emerald and amber, with flecks of pure gold,?In the light of your eyes, my heart turns to hold.
The world fades away; it’s just you and me,?In this moment of magic, we’re wild and free.?The pulse of attraction, electric and bright,?Draws me closer to you in the soft, fading light.
Sensual intimacy, where silence speaks loud,?Wrapped in the warmth of an invisible shroud.?Each breath feels electric, each touch a sweet thrill,?In this sacred connection, time stands still.
Beauty defined not just by the skin,?But the laughter, the whispers, the warmth deep within.?With every soft look, every soft sigh,?We craft a love story that will never die.
So let’s linger a moment, let’s savor the night,?Underneath the stars, where our dreams take flight.?With your hazel eyes shining, a mesmerizing hue,?In this dance of affection, I'm lost in you.