Long Skeleton Poems
Long Skeleton Poems. Below are the most popular long Skeleton by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Skeleton poems by poem length and keyword.
A nomad wanders
in labyrinthine wasteland
of the denuded life,
desolate,
the sinuous dusty track
takes me nowhere
in the obscure bleak terrain
forlorn.
My soul’s lattice,
entranced,
migrates mystified,
entangled
in the encircling web
of enigmatic conundrum,
asks bemused:
shall I escape
from the debris of delirium,
or
shall I be the enigma,
embedded
in the extant riddle.
I couldn’t decide.
The ingrained imprint
of possessed passion,
indelible,
of the stubborn being
on the weaving wheel
of the demanding time,
winds on its own
out of the tormenting tangle
of the tortuous trail
of the pining past,
transfixed in the horizon
of receding menagerie
of memory,
metamorphosed.
Steered with the promise
of pervading pride,
my beleaguered mind
out of the maze,
shows me the pathway
to the fervent fountain
of euphoric future,
figurative.
With the beat of my heart
I break resolute
the invisible blatant barrier,
impervious,
you’ve built insolent
with the skeleton of seclusion
around the secret garden,
shrouded by the arctic mist
of mind’s winter feelings
frozen.
The baroque buds
supine on the supple saplings,
line your garden path,
wait for the spring.
I saunter there,
suffused sensually
with the seraphic shine
of the sunburst new dawn.
I wish,
before I walk the last mile,
our paths will cross
someday
in the valley of flowers,
entwine eternally
the bouquet of belonging,
epitomized.
Hope was Burrow's substance, where he poured his time,
Pedalling steadily.
Intended path made smooth for those in legacy line.
Sliced through wiry roots,
Watchguard Wombat dug safety spaces.
Safety albeit empty,
claw shortening scooping to prop up progeny.
Plodding stoically.
Muffled praise from mollycoddled recipients who forgot
to congratulate wombat.
Chirps trill between ear orifices, a cheerful bell,
twinkling creek,
Thrill of apparently sucidal bird ledge leap,
harks updraught as capacity for flight.
Her name is Rainbow, though only he calls her so.
Optimism is Burrow's skeleton, firm fragile scaffold not broken
Bloodstream good Samaritan convinces him those closest know
that he would give everything
- devoid of return, satisfied in striving.
Fallen from insipid clouds, risen to a wide arc -
Squadron Observation squawk when the sun reemerges.
Related inseparably, sweet candy stripes are strings,
Harnesses of translucent hues.
Rainbow holds a cauldron in her wings
Shivered salute feather plume pom poms, her support
Altitude albeit not born to
Chimes a celebratory chortle, rain's finishing touch
Firey refraction stacks medallions of precious metal.
Magnetism draws, claws refuse to dig, Burrow closes.
Academy of affluent fly close to burn point,
- risk being scorched
Hypnotised by the increments his digits indicate.
Prospective friends and followers fill up his hollow
Lucrative lure curates karma, demanded by lorikeet
Marionettes dance, tuned to bushland command
Pinnochios pulled by Burrow's Rainbow.
The Last Viking
There had been a storm, that uprooted
an old oak that exposed a gave
the grave of the last Viking, a rusty
sword beside him its grip was made
fallen stars, he had been a chieftain
When everybody had gone home for tea
the Viking checked his body
he was a skeleton and nude about it
In a workman's hut, he found
an overall and boots
The last one to say him was outside
a lingerie shop was an elderly lady
she thought he was trying to masturbate
who can blame him after being dead
for 500 years, he probably lacked
this fleshy part.
At a museum in the Island-Man, I saw
the thumb of a Viking in a glass cage
surrounded by jewelry that ladies wore
at the time
A terrible destiny, fighting and dying
for a cause long forgotten
only to end up with his thumb on display
The turnkey to my heart? A skeleton;
It’s understanding the rhythm and more
importantly? The rhyme;
It’s hearing my past and calming
every thought of the future,
listening as I reveal my soul;
Shattered or in one piece
I relish every sip of you;
So go on, taste me;
It’s opening the closet and being
okay with the chaotic mess
because it made me who I am;
It’s dancing with two left feet
just so I can feel less awkward;
Still loving every minute of it;
So go on sip on me,
shattered or in one piece;
I relish every time you taste;
It’s knowing I’m not always sunny,
but loving my moonless dark sky;
The portal to my heart? A skeleton key.
A soul in flight soars above the grimy midnight,
mist only to be swallowed by audacious moonlight,
droplets. Heart, mind and artery
skip seamlessly across canvass wet and damp,
soaking up the wild blue mildew spot flood.
Chair yoga skeleton figure, quaking in mid-air,
much to the chagrin of startled night owls.
Baby moth or butterfly swept up by artic gusts,
the rainbow in my psyche whirls neon signage.
Blood red flash alert, wee small hours
traffic signal vaulter that I am.
Ghostly cry from rendezvous of past enchantment,
bony elbow echoes at the edge,
neck craning memoir distorted mirror,
a foghorn on mute
I reach for my phone.
All I get is the tone.
I have found the first bone, out here.
I feel something, but not fear.
As if I’m an explorer.
While taking this detour.
Fog is settling.
In the sand, I see a gold ring.
Instead of grabbing it quick-
I poke it with a stick.
A finger was hiding in the sand.
I should have known not to touch this gold band.
The rest of the skeleton starts to shake.
I want to hide from this earthquake.
But there is nothing but a dead tree.
On this beach that is silent, without even a buzzing bee.
That fog that I had just feared-
Is lifting to reveal something scary and weird.
On this beach, the water is dirty.
My legs carry me there, although they are not sturdy.
I might float out to sea.
Or I might turn into a log from a tree.
I think I see where the bones come from.
Covered in beach scum.
Maybe I am next to become,
A boney finger and thumb.
I send a prayer for the next person to appear.
On this beach, it is sandy with fear.
Maybe they will find me?
Or maybe I am part of the sea.
I am wearing a necklace that is gold.
As I become a part of this beach, untold.
I need a glass of hard drink to brush the teeth,
A jug of wine to complement a wheat bread,
An alcohol to bath all day long,.....
I'm a vagrant...in my mansion street,
No wife to cook for me,sons and daughters to make me a father cared,
Wardrobe full of dresses,but one has become as tempered silicon to my wrong,
Having an agreement with the bathhouse,"will be here when I'm hungry for its need",
I know I walk straight in focus,
but the picturing of the society throw wars,
I walk on snow with barefoot,
A skeleton in the cupboard,
Family can't handle if mocked,
Crowned best in breaking bonds of secrets,
Situations undercover......I just can't hold unto,
World prospective figure,...gone worst,
Can be a spell,influence or addiction,..will drink till I'm filled,
Freaky wild tongue,counterparts waits for my presence at the wine bar,
Arrayed in the cloth of a whale,
Killing me slow pal,
An elephant impaled,
Advice ain't gonna metamorphose me,....really need to be intervened for,
Let there be a transformation by his mind renewal,
That's what the Lord assure,
Will destroy the container for a mourn,
Change my name,...I'm a new born!
October’s Finale
October sets the stage for ghostly goblins – frost on pumpkins;
Black cats yowl on top of fences arching, upstage the moonlight;
Floating apparitions of wraiths soliloquies in mid-flight fright;
Full moons cast eerie – shadows lost in howling ghost light winds.
Echoes of shame like bare skeleton bones, rattle in chains
Specters of spirits roam through crumbling haunted castles
Ghost trains run again then again, over broken gobo trestles
Spooky whispers of forgotten lines in hair raising rains!
A possessed chorus line of leering pumpkins faces night
Tells a hair raising tale of a roaming headless horseman
Breaking through fourth walls to ride in a spine tingling plan
From the wings on a dark and stormy Halloween midnight
Howling hounds wake vampires who escape from coffins –
Hide from mirrors cloaked backstage with no reflection
Bubbling cauldrons cook creepy spells upon prop inspections
While spirits serenade in ad-lib on stringless mandolins.
Brittle headstones speak in lines of green lichen slime
Whispers blow out flickering lime lights of lantern candles
Graveyards draped in flowing scenes of cobweb handles
Heartbeats pound in monologues behind a scrim of fleeing time.
Haunted theater creaks with unseen footsteps mystery -
A playhouse podium for phantom encores - blocking bows -
Until twelve bells closes shut this deathly stage door somehow -
For November’s morning review that laughs at death’s lost victory.
All Hallows Eve call time when spirit sightings seem to occur -
Screeches of everlasting doom run rampant in audition -
Find their final curtain ringing down on their perdition,
Eternal life, the blessing seen, in the finale of October.
10-5-20
Contest: October
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
The more I bite the deeper becomes the trap.
Buried beneath the dust that pours.
The ghosts that haunt laugh and bind.
Daylight opens one eye as watering words sprinkle in shedding limbs of cleaner breaks
Floor boards concave underneath the embalmed cool as the rooms float on.
The elevated tombs that require little to no sacrifice each move intended to keep the soul locked away.
Weighted words, heavy tides of time where the laughter that sings on the fringe of our dreams.
Ruins of where we once were found.
Hands raised there is no fight left to fight.
Porch lights still beat the day time skies wondering where the boats that dream of hills spend their time dressed in pastel highlights.
In the moments poison gumdrops of wisdom rain as the backbones straighten through the floor.
Faces lit in golden shadows where dreams baste the buns of gourmet arrivals to the places where we dream to never fear the most.
Talks of endless reigns that shower on in the fabric of meta permeation as the broken homes disguised as the only way to die and let die sinks into the cool nights where the skeleton children breed with the thoughts of impending dread, smiles only flicker for a second as the salute of the dead fades the dirge they sing ring out moths clean up in smaller pockets of silence.
Ships sink in the night as the sole survivors bloom on
Dreams that bleed gold ignite as the hope fills
Worn down by joy
The sails full against the sky.
We have new ways to try.
Sitting by the window and reflecting, on one bitter cold day,
The sky cloudy, the weather report predicted snow,
The temperature outside 10 degrees, a little low,
33 years ago, it was a sad, life changing day that May.
My dad is all I could think of, he consumed my thoughts,
The Specialist Oncologist had given us the tragic news,
My soul trembled, my heartbeat fast, I developed the blues,
It was confirmed, my dad had cancer, my stomach in knots.
It was in his bronchial tubes, no therapy allowed,
For it would burn them, and he would certainly much sooner die,
I ran to the restroom at the Hospital, all I did was cry,
We went to a homeopath, who gave us extra time, only borrowed.
My dad was in remission for a year, then immediately,
Like a clock struck twelve, or like a storm with lightening,
The cancer began to spread this awful disease was metastasizing,
In 4 months, a man weighing 95 kilos became a skeleton, disturbing.
Our house doctor lived near and visited my dad every morning,
My dad was very sick by now, an expresso coffee cup of porridge,
We fed him, even water he hardly kept down, such awesome courage,
His breathing was hardly audible, manna mou he shouted, crying.
The doctor arrived, he said that this would be the longest day ever for us,
I took my son to school, explained that his grandpa might travel to heaven,
My father died that morning, my son was inconsolable, he sobbed until eleven
That night, wanted to go to school the next day, grandpa helped him in his test,
He said, and he got an A plus.
NB Manna mou – he was crying for my mom’s mum who he was very close to – Greek words.