Long Sooty Poems

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


Weak Spots Iv

The first trill of a bird at dawn,
A window overlooking the sea,
The liberation in a brand new day,
Soft, gentle voices in another room.

A train of thought that stays,
Blooming into hope and life,
Light petals touching the ankles
A baby bird cradled in the palm

Bare feet from grass to doorstep,
Droplets dripping from the hair,
Puzzled look followed by
A gentle familiarity

The fresh smell of laundry,
Lathered soap on sooty hands,
Forehead pressed on theirs,
Welcomes that are truly welcoming


2.4.20

Note: I decided to post my Weak Spots series here -  a romantic series I wrote in the month of February, for those few that remember what I started on here. I am happy to have finished this series this year. More to come soon!


Premium Member Awake Oh Hermit

We labor away day and night
Although deadened is inner sight
Knowing not who we truly are
Boon now bane, gift of life a blight

Guided not by Bethlehem's star
Rudderless, we've drifted afar
Conscience deadened, we're deaf and blind
Our soul blackened with sooty tar

Seeking freedom from ego's bind
Fears and desires we leave behind
Simply choosing to rest thought flow
Our breath becomes loving and kind

No sooner heart becomes mellow
We discover soul's joyful glow
Felt within as blissful thunder
Boundless rapture, we alone know

Life lived so far, a big blunder
For now we behold in wonder
That we're not mind-body but soul
Love that leaves no heart asunder

Recognising thus, our life role
Merging with God, our soul's sole goal
Enabled when our heart's tranquil
Feeling then thus, blissful and whole

07-October-2022
Form: Rubaiyat

The Game

There was a day once
when the factory boys
took to a rusty van
driving through the early morning dark
to play soccer on a muddy field.

Our team was called. now let me think,
does it matter that I cannot remember?
Let's call our crew the 'Raging Eagles'.
the Eagles had pimples and bad breath,
but we were all mates for the day.

It's not easy to 'rage' on a rutted field
in the middle of an industrial estate
on a misty Sunday, but we did our best.

The other team arrived full of snarky-jeers and leers.
Insults were returned, added to and sent back.
The game was more a donnybrook than
regular soccer.
Rules were made up on the fly
only to be broken.

Legs were kicked black and blue,
one arm and a head diagnosed by one and all
as totally for33ked.

Later we convened to a pub
at the other end of that sooty town
and downed a few, then a few more,
vowing to be brothers forever.

Premium Member Spirit of Swan Lake


     " In titanium haze of love,
             truth is but a mere lie, 
            never unlocking gold vaults
                    of feelings, for, 
             honesty weeps somewhere
                        in perfumed odes of
                  inkless pages, 
                              hidden in our forlorn fate..."
 
If twilight roses were 
reincarnated angels, 
they would carve 
a zillion destinies 
with feathered letters, 
flickering beneath
butterfly glitters, 
adhering glossy 
wings of rosemary, 
like a balm to 
invisible scars
and encasing 
my soul in a 
hundred hues 
of blood. 

But, I never knew, 
the secrets of 
nebulous-cloaked 
vengeance which 
infused in 
nightingale's 
forevermore fortunes, 
echoing eerie whispers 
in elora moors of 
scarlet jasmines, 
at the jinx of 
midnight's omen;
for thou emerged 
as a lover in 
ninety-nine novels, 
but a guised 
killer in the 
farewell fantasy. 

As I float by, 
in the swan lake, 
losing myself to thee, 
I wish upon 
defrosting your eyes, 
that got submerged 
beneath icebergs 
of betraying harbinger
and bleed my soul 
in frosted heart's
snow-sealed 
milky ways, 
as these flaked 
clayey leaf 
pamphlets of
sakura scents 
aren't enough
to erase thy 
fingerprints from this 
poisoned chalice, 
that sung sinful 
serenades in 
deadly paradise
of Eurydice
and sliced my spirit 
to sooty shreds, 
in this diamond dungeon 
behind sage valleys. 

Laced in 
ash grey lies, 
I'm a corpse 
enveloped in 
crimson croons
of confetti, 
whilst lips 
soak acrylic 
dewdrops of 
melting roses, 
that once
blanketed our 
eden in the 
arms of heaven, 
with starlit petals. 

So, as Nymph, 
in the orisons, 
with hemlock 
fused heart, 
be all my sins 
remembered. 
For, love is a 
smoke raised 
with the fume 
of sighs, demising 
to sacrificed 
meadows, where, 
this kismet tale 
departs in the 
very ecstacy 
of cradling mist, 
and thus, 
with disoriented 
twilight's kiss, I die.

Premium Member Chuffa Train

Chuffa train, Chuffa train, chuffin down the track again
Chuffa train, Chuffa train, chuffin down the track
Iron wheels on rails of steel, clickety clack, clickety clack 
Chuffa train, Chuffa train, bicycles right at the back

Chuffa train, Chuffa train, glad you’re on the track again
Chuffa train, Chuffa train, glad to hear you’re back 
Buffet car for drink or snack, clickety clack, clickety clack
Chuffa train, Chuffa train, engine driver sooty black

Chuffa train, Chuffa train let your whistle blow again
Chuffa train, Chuffa train mind the doors and mind the gap
Hissing steam, depart the station, clickety clack, clickety clack
Chuffa train, Chuffa train, locomotin’ there and back
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Seventh Seascape


O souls of the Island, 
I have silently 
heard through 
tropical torrents 
and surpassed 
a million miles 
of the milky seas, 
away from 
mint-marine 
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland, 
as strawberry 
ripples and 
coconut-scented 
musings called 
upon my 
flamboyant spirit, 
to explore those
ebony-emeralds 
of universe and 
envelop my hope in 
creamy pink shells. 

I have soaked in 
sepia impressions, 
ebbing as 
crepe currents 
on splitting shores 
and windsurfed 
through the
hibiscus rays 
of life by forbidding 
heartache hymns 
of yesteryears, 
from lurking in 
jewelled hours 
of today 
and built a 
kryptonite kayak 
to sail in the 
turquoise times 
of tomorrow.
For, now I know 
that the 
opalescent ocean 
has chosen me, 
to return the
riveting spirit 
of sage-rufescent 
rivulets back to 
the 'Heart of 
Humanity's Cosmos', 
shaped in 
soft serenades 
of seraphim. 

When the 
whispers of a 
mauve french-rose, 
blooming within, 
will uncurl their 
farthest wish 
in silken twinkles, 
my eyes will always 
remember these 
watercolor heights 
splashing crayon dusks 
and revealing 
silver moon truths, 
for there's more 
beyond the 
neon networks 
of syzygy pearl skies 
and chestnut reefs, 
yearning to be 
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love. 

So, I abandon 
those sooty 
regrets that snorkel 
with their fragile fins in 
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations 
of intuitions, formed 
by the star-kissed 
manta rays and 
sketch sagacious 
saudades laced 
with hope, as a 
halo around the 
lilac Pole Star. 

In this mortal 
seascape of 
the seventh heaven, 
every orphan 
of darkness
shimmers as 
the beacon 
of lustrous 
sugar-scintilla that 
shapes this world, 
in ivory-smitten 
spheres of 
magically 
diaphanous helix, 
waltzing in whispers 
of wind and water. 
Every lava-skinned, 
feminine flame 
of doleful daffodils 
was once a glittered 
cherry-red gardenia, 
laced with 
cardinal buds, 
who nurtured 
velvet seeds 
in the womb of 
celeste compassion 
and edenic empathy. 

And like myself, 
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations, 
crowned with 
purple plumerias, 
is a whimsical wayfinder, 
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity 
and blue-star petals of peace.

A Passion That's Passionless

the rations of hope tears me down, wears me down, and scares me down
why must i follow the hollow regions in which i dare choose to wallow
the enjoyment of the employment is so strangely and mysteriously flamboyant
i will never ever pull the lever like i am the poster boy for 'clever'

where my heart goes, it plays 'follow the leader' with yours
you never know i am watching because you always know i am there
reciprocity is like the constipated gymnastics that makes my reflexes feel arthritic
there are two raindrops on my coat in the cold, and as a result i die a slow death

what must i do to find a clue to dissolve the vapors of this voodoo
how must i be to prove to The Main Me that somewhere internally there still exists a zest and some glee
why can i not truly conceal the lack that is always off track in a sooty veil of pitch basic black
it must be because the pause that life insinuates always seems to have that inevitable hidden clause....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Summer in My Brain

Summer like an eagle has swooped down
Under its tearing claws, the Earth shrieks and groans
Days and nights breathe out the stench of dribbling sweat.
Roads rage and roofs steam like an overly heated pan.

The midday Sun flares right overhead,
Spitting fumes and fire all around.
The Earth lies scorched under its burning breath.
An oven pre heated, hot enough to grill and bake.

Rivers and streams pant in wild unrest
Canals and cisterns lie distraught
Dry leaves in whirlwind swirl around.
Fallowed lands yawn with mouths wide agape

From the woods, rise coils of sooty smoke,
As the dried undergrowth burns in the forest fire,	
Sucking the last vestiges of grass and green.
The flames of fire dance in wild ecstasy.

Alas! The self same summer has barged into me
Burning outright all my unsung songs.
In my ears, echo the rustle of dried up thoughts,
Which waggle round me like disembodied spirits.

How I lament the loss of my lovely rhymes,
As the ink in my pen also is drying up.
Oh! I wish it were moistened by the waters of Helicon
And like a stream, trickle down into the paper I hold!

Winter

The chilly wintry mornings
The shaking souls,the icy feelings.
The hands and legs shivering 
The snow falling and glittering. 

The colorful flowers around 
That spread in nature and surround. 
There is no way to think beyond 
God's creations, make us astound.

The dusky days,the long nights
The sun is dull,with low lights.
The snowfall makes the mountains white
The environment, though quiet brings delight. 

The season has its own beauty
The nature does its full duty.
The atmosphere seems sooty
Yet foggy and fruity.

The frost around, the cold breeze
Make creatures numb and freeze.
The frozen seas,the serene bees
The cherries blossom, the green peas.

With temperatures, usually very low
The days are fast,the nights are slow
This is winter season's glow
That paints the nature white,with Snow...




Sponsor: Joseph May
Form: Rhyme

Butterflies

While my thoughts roamed in mindless slumber
Caught in dream like shrouds
I saw what looked like a myriad colors
Floating seraphic enchanted spells
Chained on sweet invisible melodies
Stealthy shadows in the sooty dawn
Charm and beauty in collision
Frolicking sentiment
The trove that the eye could claim but never have
Yet I lingered through the labyrinth of mystery
Drank the moment like favorite ale
Snorting a laugh
Trying to mimic the creatures
While my movements lumbered into awkward desire
Had I wings I would have joined the hypnotic congregation
In affectionate song and dance
That only butterflies can render in their silent flight

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