Long Soles Poems
Long Soles Poems. Below are the most popular long Soles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soles poems by poem length and keyword.
Sight arrives first~
a spill of Mexican poppies
like molten gold across the
the Franklin Mountain foothills,
each petal swaying
in the desert’s slow exhale
Hearing follows~
the soft hiss of wind
threading through brittle grasses,
the faint click of stones shifting
under my boots,
and somewhere far off,
a quail calls
reminding me
solitude is never truly silent.
Touch wakes next~
sun-warmed air brushing my arms,
poppy petals grazing my fingertips
like small, shy flames,
and the gritty pulse of the trail
pressing its story
into the soles of my feet.
Smell rises gently~
the clean, sharp breath of creosote,
the earthy sweetness of sun-struck soil,
and the faint perfume of wildflowers
lifting from the fields
as if the desert itself
had decided to wear something soft.
And taste~
unexpected,
but there all the same:
the mineral tang of dust
on my tongue,
the bright edge of heat
settling in my throat,
the flavor of a landscape
that asks nothing
yet gives everything.
By the time I turn back,
the poppies glow brighter,
the mountains stand closer,
and every sense feels
a little more awake~
as if the desert
has quietly rewritten
the way my body senses
to the world.
BUTCHER PETE
In the vault below lies the mince, of butcher Pete
Got dragged into a meat processor by the soles of his feet.
RADIOACTIVE SCUM
The Russian soldiers who stormed Chernobyl, are buried in lead coffins below.
And in the dark of night you can see, their radioactive glow.
FARMER MURRAY
Here lies the 'aromatic' remains of the farmer Sid Murray
Missed his footing and drowned in a vat of cow slurry.
PUTIN
At his victory parade in Red Square Putin, had a fatal heart attack
And the inscription on his headstone reads, Karma will always get you back.
MANUEL
Below are buried the pieces of Manuel from Havana
Went swimming and got eaten by a shoal of piranha.
SID
A bookcase containing books about the paranormal and death
Toppled over onto Sid the librarian, and they haven't found his body yet.
JIM
Jim the electric clock maker got electrocuted and died.
It seems that for poor Jim, time was not on his side.
BROWN BREAD ED
Baker Ed fell into his hot oven, and was baked with the dough
And all the mourners were given, a slice as a memento.
LION TAMER FRED
In this vault lies the headless body of lion tamer Fred
Who stumbled onto a lions mouth and who then bit off his head.
ARCHIBALD DE WITT
The world famous conductor Sir Archibald De Witt
Was hit with the arm of a trombone and fell dead in the pit.
Written 27th April 2022.
In a world that touches my soles like a lost whisper,
I wander through realms where light is a never-ending rainbow,
And I wish to rise with the sun in its golden carousel,
To become a ray dancing on the edges of eternity.
I see the white foam, a bridal gown wrapped in blue waves,
And I wish to tie my soul to the edge of an unspoken dream,
To float upon the sea of the unknown, like a thought lost on the horizon,
To disappear like a shooting star and be found as a memory.
I see the black sky, a velvet cloak adorned with the silver moon,
And I wish to pitch a tent on the land of boundless shadows,
Where my echo would be a symphony of honey and wind,
To be viewed as a portrait that births new universes with each gaze.
I wish for someone to see me, to witness my paradox,
To understand me without knowing me, to seek me in the secret of a dream,
To feel me without touching me, to be light caught in time,
In a universe where I am more than the shadow of a setting desire.
When the soles of my feet,
and the palms of my hands turn red and
scorched, I go on.
When my face is hot from the heat, I go on.
My eyes shed tears and my nose turns cold, I go on.
When there's so much to fear and life seems not here,
I go on.
The friends you lose one by one and the graves you
walk on count so many, I go on
When there's nothing to ask or face, I go on.
I go on because I am the dreams of those gone by.
I go on for the Sun lite sky.
I go on for the hope of the few and the day.
I go on for future care.
I go on for my darling dear.
And, so I go on.
I
Like the light'ning in crazed velocity,
The dame, swathed in fury, charged at him.
Humiliating his giant courage,
As his soles had the loyal earth betrayed.
Charged she continuously at the baffled,
Veiled to him: the stir of the race battle.
II
Under a cedar tree at noon he sat,
Reminiscing, " What have I done to prompt that? "
Then saw he an aloof folk passing by:
Like the torpedo ignores ships that ply.
Turned on by jealousy, he pursued it.
("Gutsy!") Till he caught up and possessed it.
Thus is money: run from who run to it.
In jealousy, run to who run from it.
19:03:08:09:10
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Juxtaposition II
Tension crawls into the pores of crashing contemplation
Why has it become so hard to breathe?
If only it was known what this dejected heart is saying
As she sobs poetic lines of wordless woe
She is cradled in the tempo tempest of this reflection
Pulsing in the unfeeling land beyond her bodily home
The blood pumping sweet iron grief spurts
The soles of the feet throb at the impact
As the grass cools only to recall the coldness of the present
The impact…
Of a tear falling to the floor
The droplet so gentle… in clear-watered, grounded rapture
The energy of the sorrow befallen is perilous
One with many roads leading to frail fantasy
Aggravated tear…so atrocious, envious
There is something more whirling in this déjà vu cycle
Being crushed many times
By lackadaisical, ever-traveling minds
It is too easy to be tossed to and fro
Between conscious leisure and provocative pressure
Sub-dominated by sumptuous conviction
That word—love—a furtive dagger
Driving a gaping hole of shame and unknowing
Straight into her
Wracking around in this meddle
Of emotion and reason—shooting up falsehood full throttle
Drifting there again
In a solitude almost consoled by the earthy coldness
Of his fowl glare…
Every unsaid word frazzling to the mind
Tearing me and lifting me high
One must wonder if you watch as the fragments fly
As they float for only a few seconds
Of your precious time
And fall back down below
At your very feet
Where the grass is warm, and hopes are high
Please don’t leave them on the floor with the tear
The tear that never quite gets absorbed
The tear that chillingly consoles that bleeding heart
Destroying me
As she thrashes in the maze of bones and matter
Each hollow pathway of the marrow leading to a dead end
Or an ever-winding way downwards
They say each body of water leads straight to the sea
Where will the tear I abhor…lead me?
Stuttering heaves of prickling breaths
the wind I swallowed is laughing at me,
or is it the oxygen it boasts that mocks the lungs that crave
ammunition, cogent, to birth veristic life?
Whatever it is, I’m past caring,
yet the people who pretend they are stalk my feet.
Their mouths speak of giving up the search,
but they forget that I’m dead, not deaf, not blind;
mindful of the gazes tracing the lines of a corpse,
steps following steps on ceaseless trails
spears and crossbows in hand, hunting wild geese
quiet desperation louder than the forest we’re in
hunger crawling at the flesh beneath our skins
I know you’re tired, and I am too.
The chains tethering us to each other
some ingot, some forged
cage our necks, and seal our fates
they hurt the same, hurt the same.
So when we reach that cliff we knew was coming,
I’ll feign surprise at the “told you so”
slug the bile of regret and rue
spew the ire in irony,
and curse myself for the curse you’re in.
Empty apologies for empty promises.
You wish I’m sorry but I never am.
Not enough to turn back
and say goodbye to that buoyant dream,
the thought of which became a dream.
Not enough to make the leap to ebullient seas,
and drown in the red of your wounds
that taste black cherry with cuts of my own.
Soles glued to the fickle quicksand they call time,
there is the painting of swollen eyes tattooed on mine.
Paralyzed,
I try to enounce the pain I’m in
except my tongue becomes treacle,
and moulds words I can’t recognize, don’t mean to say,
but I know that they hurt the same, hurt the same.
Summer lay lazily over the land.
The languid weight of wind and water
bowing tree limbs, chasing sand
squalls over sidewalks.
Cyclist meander down aisles
of Rose of Sharon shrubbery past
banks of day lilies and Pez-purple
hydrangeas.
Tourist, colorful as the flowers,
buzz through seaside shops in flip flops
the color of Necco wafers.
Their gummy soles making sucking
sounds upon the linoleum.
In gingerbread slumber like fairy-tale children,
they gather in pink, lime-green, and purple houses.
The poor of a Christian God have become
the rich of a capitalist nation.
They hoard their paper-lantern dream.
counting one to
ten this time thumbs
included but no matter
that she served them on
a silver platter i wanted none
standing on
wooden floor
boards i asked
her to sit and lift
her feet for me as
she did she being
Diosa for sure having
had two soles which i licked
from heel to toe each s l o w l y
sensitively feeling every bend and curve
then a moment
a moment of pause
each toe defining itself
like fingerprints individually
each toe telling its special need
each special care
for this little piggy is
going to market and will
be moaning wee wee wee
taking her all the way home
Form:
Ibykos Fragment 286, circa 564 BCE
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Come spring, the grand
apple trees stand
watered by a gushing river
where the maidens’ uncut flowers shiver
and the blossoming grape vine swells
in the gathering shadows.
Unfortunately
for me
Eros never rests
but like a Thracian tempest
ablaze with lightning
emanates from Aphrodite;
the results are frightening—
black,
bleak,
astonishing,
violently jolting me from my soles
to my soul.
Originally published by The Chained Muse
Ibykos, also spelled Ibycus, was an ancient Greek lyric poet. Ibykos was included in the canonical list of melic poets by the scholars of Hellenistic Alexandria. Originally from Rhegium in Magna Graecia, Ibykos is believed to have moved to Samos during the reign of the tyrant Polykrates (c. 538–522 BCE).