Long Soldered Poems
Long Soldered Poems. Below are the most popular long Soldered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soldered poems by poem length and keyword.
The old woman came out of the eye hospital,
After receiving the news, she was going blind.
She was feeling very depressed, not just about her eyes,
The state of the world in general.
After her hospital visit, she and her husband went to lunch,
They sat talking for a long time about times gone by and
how people seem to them to be less caring and sharing
today than in the war years of their youth.
After lunch, they went to a jeweller to have a necklace chain repaired,
the assistant was helpful and said that the necklace needed soldering
And direct them to a shop that could help them.
The shopkeeper remarked how thin the chain was,
He said he would do what he could, come back in an hour.
When they returned, the chain was nicely wrapped and soldered,
The shopkeeper handed the package to the woman,
Saying that he could not take any payment from her,
Because the chain would keep breaking and the pearl drop
On the chain was worthy of a better chain.
He was a jeweller who sold gold chains,
He did not once imply that the woman should purchase a better chain
from him.
He was an honest, sincere, thorough gentleman.
The woman felt uplifted by the goodness of the man.
And he knew the reason that she looked so radiantly happy,
And it had nothing to do with money.
Languishing in a limbo of roles
perpetually gleaning
reading ripe tombs and myths
a child, a child dreaming
parroting fancies in pretty pink
braiding wisps on a razor straps edge
the perfect daughter to become
when all that was wanted was a son…
life passed by for the adult child
caring for mother, sister, brother
never really finding a meaning of she
mothering mother
friend and companion to father
oh where was she?
excel… a touch tones sympathetic plight
graft the colors, the paint the light, the mold
the seemingly endless mission…life
languishing in a limbo of roles
captured waif, soldered wife
pie baker, clothes maker, gardener
twist the seam of an unknown dream
thirty years on hold
half a lifetime, square peg in a round hole
then she came, who was she you ask
why me, myself and I
bloom on a rose I saved me
stepped off the cross
and became.....me
Contest The Right Time
Poet: D. Guzzi
Path walked measured with words,
Stripping the unwanted ones down, to be newly clothed.
Lost swooning over how much happiness the heart can take,
Felt those properly sieved emotions flowing through.
The words kept coming as the path was walked.
The farther the path was walked, the heavier the words were to strip off.
Could either take it or take a hit.
Feeling both the warm and cold inside.
The hovering cost of being myself for too long.
While it seems like it is a lot of work,
The control over the words I embrace makes it all better.
That I can choose the words I take a hit for.
Gotta Love Alliteration 5-21-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gracious Grace
Endless effervescence of grace,
In riots of radiance, infected by innocence,
Seeks out the heart harassed by humiliation –
Wrapped in sleepless shrouds of incensed worry –
When alliterations of angst plunder soiled spirits with pandemonium
Grace, the eternal romantic, lavishes love.
Purity, born of playful purity,
Tames tempests of melancholy mistrals
As midnight murmurs into dawn’s jubilant joy
As dusky dews flow from fountains of forgiveness
With eternal elixirs from the everlasting
For the pensive plea of the penitent pilgrim.
Grace sings the ageless anthem of sweetest sanctuary
In honeyed breaths for the hobbled heart to inhale
Ever abiding loveliness, always in ascent,
Tingling with tenderness, opening soldered seas of sin,
Miracle made manifest in majestic melody
With promises penned in poems of peacefulness.
We, the creatures, fused from stardust
soldered with the fires of hell,
crawling on our squalid bellies
from the froth of ocean's swell—
We, who wield supreme dominion
over land and sea and sky,
creatures with the wings of angels,
unaware that we can fly—
From the gutter in an alley
to the noblest castle wall,
every creature holds the secret,
though we have forgotten all.
Strains of music, soft, exquisite,
shimmer from the creature's hand,
drifting over cries of anguish,
centuries of lash and brand.
Stinking skins, the creatures' bodies,
base and mortal, house the beast.
Yet, within, the spark of heaven
kindles flames among the least.
Nature rules the creatures' habit,
spinning cosmos feeds the heart.
Which will navigate the journey
every creature's course must chart?
Time awaits the final verdict,
earth and oceans hold their breath
as the creatures swirl and stumble
toward the light or to their death.
We are grand, sublime, inspired,
hateful, foul, depraved and flawed—
still, the eyes of We the creatures
glimmer from the face of God.
Courtesy of one or more tradesmen,
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready
and willing to acquire money
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician
to side step getting rung, drafted
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate
till retirement or join kiln fields
once the music died
from plane over exertion, yet nonetheless
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied
searching me noggin brief history re:
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside
sense and sensibility
without prejudice nor pride
boardrooms in tandem with glories of
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone –
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures,
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements
at large and snatched doze
birth of brute efforts eventually
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered
with faith, federation union freedom
and job security did thence abound,
which holiday underwent
transformations as bustle
and hustle proved myth regarding
land of milk and honey –
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit
of happiness less of physical tussle
set (thank you Masons and Dixons)
cornerstone to an invisible
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists,
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
Courtesy of one or more tradesmen,
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready
and willing to acquire money
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician
to side step getting rung, drafted
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate
till retirement or join kiln fields once died
from over exertion, yet nonetheless
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied
searching me noggin brief history re:
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside
boardrooms in tandem with glories of
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone –
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures,
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements
at large and snatched doze
birth of brute efforts eventually
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered
with faith, federation union freedom
and job security did thence abound,
which holiday underwent
transformations as bustle
and hustle proved myth regarding
land of milk and honey –
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit
of happiness less of physical tussle
set (thank you Masons and Dixons)
cornerstone to an invisible
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists,
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
Anaphylactic identity, constricting logic on the
course towards infinity. Denial is drawn like a tarot
reading, citing that it is all in your head. Hidden
mysteries written in code - the key etched in our
divinity. Searching for a God who shoulders all the
blame while cartographing our lessons with fate
Absolute power behind the circuitry, plugged into
the all-seeing interface led by evasive clues to
keep the system powered up and running smooth
Damage created by those on bended knees,
pointing divisive fingers against our natural instincts
outside of the true spectrum. Wired up and held in
the place of duty - holding on to the inverse of
programmable time, like cogs in a wheel turning,
without enough consciousness left in holding
to seek for records with even a misguided way out
Secret vaults protected by monsters in captivity
Borders and walls surrounded by tales of
adventurous souls, looking upwards and onwards,
over the ocean, and rocketing into the sky. All so
the slave remains blind, swept up in fantasy of
daring escapes - illusions hold them down to work
harder, building an empire that has been falsified
underhand - stolen in the name of dignity. Written
on the tombs of despair to keep us longing for
something else outside of the current of what is
Then came the virus that attacked the hallucinating
code of deception. The binding network struck a
nerve, activating the cleaners to destroy the peace
that held like soldered resistors. The savior agents
dropped from their blinded curses, and took up
their swords like lightning rods. Connected by their
inner potentials, they set out to remind every neighbor
near that the codex has always been within
Dark space
Cold
&
inexorable
soul
adrift
heart
stopped
plopped
shocked
gawked
I see you
in
majestic
&
forlorn
debarred
Not alive
Not dead
depressive
state
bereft
of
cocoon
&
callousness
drunk
on
cashmere
kisses
on
brink
of
wonder
as
flying
soaring
beyond
tipsy
skyline
glimmering
where
love
left me
breathless
soaked
inebriated
with
aroma
of
flowers
snagged
in
tangent
thought
needle
thread
tales
of
antique
mauve
lodge
in
every
stitch
and
soldered
spirit
wanting
to
learn
about
peace & love
a
touching
scale
to
climb
hanging
upside down
from
clouds
in
a
starry
sky
1st place contest winner
Written: March 1st, 2023
Your Pick Again Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE 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 responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
WAKE UP MY HEART
Wake up my heart, from satin sleep, so deep.
Up my expectations, of dawn’s satisfying affection.
My sorrows and worries pale, your loving kiss warms.
Heart burns and we’re soldered together, you and me.
Wake up my heart! Wake up!
Delicious in your crescent arms,
Your moving gears. The blossom
of my mind, the garden of my Eden,
explosive in the mountaintop experience.
Deep affection warms me, I’m no longer cold.
You’ve warmed my skin, my emotions within.
Singular souls united, soldered tight, hearts reborn.
We view the splay of sunrise, with glistening pairs of eyes,
In one direction, forever as husband and wife.
10/18/2017
Julie Rodeheaver’s Wake Up My Heart Contest
1st Place
*two acrostics in verse one
Left side: Wake Up My Heart
Right Side: Deep Affection Warms Me
The two are used again, to begin
the following verses.