Long Silver Poems

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


Premium Member Her Tears in the Boundless Night

Her Tears in the Boundless Night

She doesn't cry with a storm's roar in her chest, but in the savage silence,
When the room becomes a tomb of shadows and hope sleeps forgotten,
Her tears fall like drops of wax from an old silver candle,
In that implacable void where even the echo is afraid to breathe.

Her pale face is not a sign of weakness, but a scar of heavy strength,
Nights take pieces from her soul like greedy and cold sorcerers,
Morning always demands its tribute—false smiles, domesticated gestures—
And she carries pain like a secret religion, without altars and without psalms.

Her eyes don't beg for understanding from this blind and deaf world,
They understand first, they shelter entire storms in depths of calm ocean,
They protect others before bandaging their own open wounds,
Her heart is unfair to her—it forgives too easily, loves in unsafe ruins.

And yet... she loved me when she herself was breaking in a thousand mirrors,
When her hands trembled like sick leaves on branches of late autumn,
She didn't ask me to save her from her labyrinth of thorns and melancholy,
But loved gently, sincerely, like the last beautiful thing in a lost world.

If there is strength I believe in, it looks like her—soft in cruelty,
Standing in her own wounds as in a temple lit by sacred pain,
Choosing kindness when the world demands blood, choosing love when it costs everything,
She is the magic psychedelic of existence—a living poem that refuses to die.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Pleasurable suffocation

I stood near the soggy dim and grey window,
As I reminisced about today.

You in your beautiful denim
Looking disappointingly at me
Dissatisfied of the thing,
I always craved from thee.

You spat out the words 
And they landed in my veins like venom.
A cold, sympathetic chill shuddered through my spine
My eyes stung 
Like a fresh squeezed lemon.

I heaved a sigh as I settled onto the velvety sofa
Aware of the fact that I wasn't the one
But my heart started thundering
And I knew it was yet to come

Perhaps this venom will dry out the burning passion 
Embedded deep inside of me
Perhaps I would be free
From this heartbreaking agony

My eyes softened as it arrived,
An itch in my throat which deeply thrived.
Someone, or something was clawing its way
The rainbow spilled into the day.

It was beautifully breathtaking Roses in flight.
Sparkles and glitter just blinding my sight,
All for a glimpse of your beautiful face
Lost in a dream, drifting away.

A whole universe 
Where you loved me
Where you chose me 
But I snapped back to reality 

Out poured the petals, the stems, and the buds,
Lying lonely and lost in the cold, crimson floods.
But there was something unusual about it.
Covered in something dark, something black. 

It wasn't as painful as before.
But the dull, heartache remained
Maybe your words eased the pain 
Not in the way I expected.

The Forest

I like to go into the forest this time of year
and hear the murmur of the silence around me.
There my thoughts are crystal clear and this helps
me to reflect on who I am.

The blinding white snow cover the rocks and 
leaves as well as my past actions. 
the pine and maple trees branches now bow 
to the winter wind knowing ’tis the season’.

The gray sky above shines like polish silver for
the clouds are pregnant with snow that will cover, 
at least temporary, the way I live my life in the city.
Thinking of just myself and forgetting those in need. 

I see a squirrel standing on his hind legs eyeing me with
questionable black eyes.  After a while he seems 
to know I mean it no harm and it scampers up
a tree. Perhaps he knows he has to seek shelter.

A wondering freezing wind finds it’s way inside
my jacket, I too must seek shelter; perhaps from
myself.

Premium Member In the shadow of silence, when the soul sings of unknown longings

In the shadow of silence, when the soul sings of unknown longings,
An ancient song rises within me, like an incantation,
In which lines of stars float, caught in the threads of the night,
And the dream envelops me like a wave of infinite, ungraspable.
In the blue of this universe, where time flows slowly,
Whispers of wind and drifting leaves tell me your story,
A story woven with threads of light and deep shadows,
Where each day is a verse, and each night, a star.
I see you between the lines, like an echo from an ancestral dream,
A shadow dancing on the edge of an abyss of desire,
Where the rain falls like a balm on the wounds of the soul,
And silver memories return like a river of nostalgia.
In this cosmic waltz, where hearts collide and unite,
You are the constellation that lights my deepest night,
A beacon in the ocean of silence that envelops me so often,
And in your arms, I find that eternal, that infinite.
Like an alchemist, you transform chaos into pure beauty,
And I lose myself in your gaze, a labyrinth of hidden desires,
While my soul dances on the edge of time,
Seeking its place among the stars, in a shared destiny.
The repetitions of your words are like a sacred rhythm,
A lullaby for my lost soul,
And in the depths of silence, I hear the call of an unbounded longing,
Which carries me to you, a journey through the unknown universe.
Through this poem, my search continues, shrouded in mystery,
Like an underground river whispering the secrets of an endless love,
And I will find you, in every lifetime, under the eternal sky,
Where our love will be a song, a ritual of reunion.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Letter To Rhapsodical Rose


Here, I scribble a letter 
to the rhapsodical rose, 
dipping my quill in 
stardust that slips 
like a violet waterfall 
from the tips of 
white oak trees. 
These marigold 
orbs shine with 
shimmering streaks 
of sugar coated mist, 
as I twist my palm 
and breathe in 
the lavender light 
of kismet, while 
tender tulips 
soothingly sleep 
upon the sweet seeds 
of nostalgia. 

O Mi Amour, 
our lambent love 
is but a succulent 
sea full of stars, 
where buttercup boats 
sail in emerald 
evanescence and 
gentle lulls of 
champagne waves 
kiss those scarlet 
shells of secrets, 
echoing with 
vibrant whale-songs. 

Can you feel the 
mulberry bluebells 
chiming as I glide 
on pistachio 
plateau of promises? 
Am I your soulful dynasty, 
just as you are my 
star-spun Prince 
descended from the eden, 
my healer from 
charismatic realms and 
my last lachrymose wish? 

You're a museum 
of art for the 
moon-shaped chimera 
of peonies painted 
with hazel silk 
and this chameleon 
danger holds no 
manifestation in 
our foreign folklore, 
because when 
the last dewdrops 
dance with sunlight, 
holographic memories 
of 'You and I', 
will forever
remain alive in 
the tamarind tales of 
watercolor wildflowers. 

So, when the 
jinxed icicles cut 
me with their 
silver sword, 
spring shivers 
in snowy meadows 
and the sun sets 
along the horizon
of our ruffled story, 
you'll always 
hear these husky 
notes of my 
exotic scents 
lingering in ivy 
laced rains and 
falling upon the 
graffiti of your 
ruby bones. 

You'll eternally hear 
celestial serenades, 
singing in raspberry 
language of our 
incensed love which 
will erase the
acetone sadness 
of my unwritten absence 
and those crimson 
ribbons of violin's ode 
will spin our saga 
around those 
slaty branches 
of bitter destiny.


50 Words For Poe: Dactyl

“50 Words for Poe: dactyl”



When Terror Fell came
he had no complaints

the joint was jumping
it was do or dare
he offered Her his old pear
the porridge here was so glum

She closed the door 
to the window of his cell
and sucked on Her plum

She was thinking, a dangerous thing in itself, indeed,
that next time peaches, not pears would be fun 
She’d tighten his straight jacket some
fingers and toes to be free

She’d observe him for a while
there was the pressing issue
of The Others let loose on the run  
joie de vivre, gone all bat**** wild

there was still the report to write
an extra dose of Laudanum prescribed
She’d blindfold him and buzz him electric
then instruct him to write poems didactic

delusions of grandeur 
fingers and toes playing piano
with the other dementors to be denied
he was manic - full of too much ego and arrogant hurt pride

All in a day’s work
He was safe in his cell
or so he thought ...

counting numbers
the seconds tick by

he'd gladly wait 
for Hell's Bride

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)



https://youtu.be/mGYUV76Lhic




“In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.” 




https://youtu.be/CoA4goulmMo




“Silver dust
lifted from the earth
higher than my arms reach,
you have mounted.
O silver,
higher than my arms reach
you front us with great mass;
 
no flower ever opened
so staunch a white leaf
no flower ever parted silver
from such rare silver;  

O white pear
your flower-tufts,
thick on the branch,
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.”
(H.S. 1886 - 1961, The Pear Tree)



https://youtu.be/PgqHi5HkBRk



"before I am lost, 
hell must open like a red rose 
for the dead to pass"






For the Lost, out of their cell still serving time in Hell.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d#tab-poems

One Giant Leap For Me

When it all came down I lost my mind
Bit by bit I became hard to find
But like a phoenix from the ashes I rise
I'm proud to say I survived

These past 8 months were trying times
I sat in bed and wrote these rhymes
I never knew what was coming next
What was yet to happen was anyone's guess

I went to the nut house twice in all
To be sane again was all I lived for
On my darkness days I made plans
I wanted to go and meet the “big boss man”

Everyone around me suffered too
Little by little they all knew
Knew my darkest secrets and tricks
Knew all the things that made me tick.

But I wasn't ashamed its who I am
It was finally out, it wasn't a scam
Eventually I began to heal
But what happened next…believe me is real

A knock on the door one Sunday morning
3 detectives with badges…there was my warning
They took me away in a little silver car
Arrested for what? I didn't know thus far…

They gave me a cell and made me answer some questions
They let me go on bail, no charges or restrictions
“Surrender here in one months time
And we’ll decide your fate and crime”.

The first week was hard as hell,
I knew I couldn't spend my life in a cell
So my suicide plans began again
A Stanley knife and pills would become my friend

Week 2 I lost the will to speak
I couldn't even sleep or eat
Benzos were what the doctor ordered
A Benzo high to fix my disorder

Week 3 is where this picks up
7 days till judgement…I know it sucks
Humming and haring about what to do
Should I Die now or see it through?

Then at 12 by phone did ring
“Hello Ms Dhillon I have some news,
Please sit down while I talk you through,
I know this will be of interest to you”.

“There are no charges to be had
You’re a free women now don’t despair,
I know this fear was hard to bear
But its over now, no need to be scared”. 

I sat and I just cried and cried
I now no longer had to die
I knew that I could finally sleep
And slowly all my dreams I could reap

Off to the pub, there were drinks to be had
I am no longer feeling sad
It was relief for all, that much is true
But it was my victory, and it was sweet!

I guess what I'm saying is there's always ways
Ways to keep from going insane
I wouldn't of believed it yesterday either
But today I'm living proof.... it sure does pay to be a believer!
© Gogster Dw  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member We can no longer continue as we are, souls weary from nerves

We can no longer continue as we are, souls weary from nerves,
creatures grinding their lives in worries, fearing death because they have never truly lived.
We have lost ourselves in the maps of days, searching for treasures that do not shine under the sun,
and we have forgotten how to sip from the morning as from a cup full of light.
Every step pressed upon the earth becomes a shadow crawling towards dusk,
and our laughter, once a river of silver, has turned into extinguished whispers.
We seek meaning in the mists of memories and hide from the present that burns,
for we fear to look into the mirror of time and see unfamiliar faces.
We live through the stories of others, dreaming of the courage we have not embraced,
and our souls long for songs to free us from silence.
We fear death not because it comes, but because it catches us unprepared,
for we have not dared to dance under the open sky, to love with open hearts.
But perhaps, deep within us, there is a spark waiting to be touched,
a desire to truly live, to shake off the invisible chains.
Every day, we have a chance to be reborn from the ashes of regrets,
to write our own stories with ink of courage and threads of light.
Perhaps we will learn to live without fear, to embrace the unknown,
and thus, in the end, we will see death not as an end, but as a new calling.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Empty Suit

Silk suit, classy Yale Degree
A silver spoon eternally
A Federal man, a Judgeship in sight
Bending Justice to his own might

He walks the halls with arrogant grace
Leaving shadows on every face
Another indictment a life undone
Just another victory a battle won

He is the King of the Courtroom
A Gilded Cage
Fueled by ego and righteous rage
Without the badge, the power he wields
He is just a whisper lost in the field

He’d be nothing, just another name
Playing the game but losing the fame
So he clings to power desperately
The Law is just a tool for him you see

He builds his name on broken men
Twists the Truth again and again
Rights violated, cast aside
Collateral damage he doesn’t hide

He paints himself a hero of old
Stories of injustice unfold
He sees ambition in every case
A stepping stone to a higher place

He is the King of the Courtroom
A Gilded Cage
Fueled by ego and righteous rage
Without the badge, the power he wields
He is just a whisper lost in the field

He’d be nothing, just another name
Playing the game but losing the fame
So he clings to power desperately
The Law is just a tool for him you see

He never struggled, never toiled
His path was paved, his future oiled
Now he condemns the struggles of all
From his ivory tower he watches them fall

The only loss
The Truth ignored
From a man
Whose principles are flawed

He is the King of the Courtroom
A Gilded Cage
Fueled by ego and righteous rage
Without the badge, the power he wields
He is just a whisper lost in the field

He’d be nothing, just another name
Playing the game but losing the fame
So he clings to power desperately
The Law is just a tool for him you see

The gavel falls, the sentence read
Another soul filled with dread
And he walks away with nary a care
The Federal Prosecutor beyond compare

Someday the truth will break through the lies
And the empire he built will fall from the skies
Someday he’ll understand what he has truly done
A life misspent chasing the Sun
Form: Lyric

A Narrow Road I

Walking on a narrow road 
leading no to where, 
wanting to roam 
with nothing in sight 
dark clouds drift 
across my path
slicing rays of sun 
warming my promised lands
bright dreams break 
cascade along the way 
fracturing falling across my face 
fighting my shadows 
dying into the gray of my days 
somewhere into the distance 
there is thunder 
deep and full of dread 
dread of what is coming
my light fades away 
a little at a time
walking a narrow road 
through darkness and light 
oppressive filling
my wells of deep divinity 
walking on the edge 
of the magnetic beast
walking into my depths 
my oblivion my infernal feasts 
full of dark things
running from the light 
the light of my sanity 
full of lumbering things
wanting, wasted, willowy things 
glow pale, aware
bone white brittle 
blood rimed eyes
my shadows run 
each a mark of history 
silver moonlight shines 
full of sorrow and symmetry
lost loves and dry things 
in the shadows of my inner sight 
I see black leather wings, eyes blind 
I stand and listen to the oncoming thunder 
seeing the figures lit by lightning 
flickering silhouetted 
behind my minds eye
made of sticks and bones lumbering 
a harbinger of things to come 
I am walking on a narrow road
at the edge of oblivion 
wanting to jump 
waiting to run nowhere to go 
as memory and pain comes

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