Long Spotlight Poems
Long Spotlight Poems. Below are the most popular long Spotlight by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spotlight poems by poem length and keyword.
sea-urchins in rock pools –
the flesh, a delicacy –
sparkle –
protected from the ocean
where anemones proliferate –
by a mist-glistening
heart shaped rock:
the keeper of my secrets –
a cache of memories
of mornings snorkelling
surface
eddy on the periphery
—homesick for my roots—
a keeper lost to shifting tides
white horses
masking risk in its wake …
a plastic wrapped sushi tray
on the kitsch kitchen counter
awash with the detritus of daily life—
a cold cup of coffee
milk skin
swirling like
liquescent marmoris
fluctuant under
fractured light
tender moments
where flaws hide in the spotlight
Laetrile induced
unsettling riptides
where occasionally colour swirls
marbling visions
the future liquescent …
I’m drowning in
proposals of memories
to be made with loved ones
family secrets to
be offered up
a dish that could be as
risky as Omakase …
smiling indulgently with my eyes
as a mirror-smooth ocean –
a north-westerly wind
whipping up the occasional white horse –
hides its turbulent depths
so a state of amenomania
settles over me
the final images
– as requested –
the secrets of my life
tucked away in an abditory—
eddying between past and future
the key to
unlocking it
—left in their hearts—
She was a Goddess
Who
Tippytoed across his eyelids
Appearing in a lucid
Dream
She danced between
The strumming of his acoustic heartbeat
Her exquisiteness would keep him playing that song indefinitely.
If only
they could seek refuge in his temporary daydream
Love hit him like a temperate
Tsunami
And he had no
Restraint or desire to fight it
A moth attracted to flame
In the blink of an eye
She transforms
Into a bellydancer, bending and swaying
raising her butterfly wing
cloth above her head
winding her hips hypnotically
.....
..
then
A painter.....
her usage of colour
acrylic brilliance
and
you are now speechless...
The ballerina
with her hands above her head
The spotlight resting
and
she is stunning..
The epitomy
Of
the female Artist.
She wraps her
Her satin belt
Over his eyes
And he rises effortlessly like the sun chasing
The
......
.
.
moon
She dips and sways
And he rests his hand
On
Her hip
Nervously in anticipation he
Begins to shake
no longer he can wait
so
he
Removes his
Blindfold
as she rests against the window sill
and her golden hair shines like an earthbound Diety
She is the closest thing the world will ever come to a real life Van Gogh painting
Her laughter,
Filled his chest
Like the wind
Through a sail
Giving him direction,
Her Name was
Elegance
And
She
Was
An artist.
Such is the way reason lived fate,
Imprints of thoughts in vivid streams;
Glimpse truth's fond rays through lively gates,
Notions well sought in range and themes;
Strong treatise greets the learned style.
Adjust to show where knowledge stands;
Reach profound meet in gaze worthwhile,
Instruct and grow while learning can;
Success sees truth in clear attire,
Turn the spotlight to unearth thought;
Observe fond proof where mind moves fire,
Touch in clear sight logic and lot;
Learn to discern the vistas wide,
Explore and earn what wisdom hides.
Leon Enriquez
30 April 2015
Singapore
Self's colors-change in the modes of wanting,
as a chameleon in the daylight,
as the seasons fade to black, hunting season
where loyalty is clothed in sackcloth,
used as a knapsack with monogrammed font.
To embellish the pride inside, attacks reason.
Game played, war waged against trust and integrity,
hair trigger, sights blurred and uncalibrated.
Sport saved for fair weather and played-with
when in moods of folly-misunderstood
as heart's pedigree, but self the only royalty.
In the mists where lovers-lie, dormant
on the rocks of
sacrifice,
sprayed and neutered with the scent of the world,
blessed by holly-wood burning to ashes,
embraced skeletons of Pride's carbon copy fairytale.
Convenience, just a behemoth-witch of cull,
changes the love's color to grey-scale,
when it fits the bill of soul sale.
No effort no altruistic deeds,
no walls scaled or ride on valiant steed,
no searchlight, or care but for selfish greed.
Just a crone noose and bonfire of vanity,
just a cast of thespian spells playing part
in new reality.
Scale-weighs, and reckoning's executioner-pendulum swings
and approaches with royalties-undertaker
with box of pre-fitted manacle rings
empty in hand save for null need,
as truth-sees eye to eye-darkness looks away, cares not for its deeds,
Rewards itself handsomely,
a black wedding knot to tie.
Vows weigh the truth's true order of things,
from it's wheelhouse shipwreck beacon by the sea.
Sees souls found wanting, rescue, denied
and sees the light go forth from it's spotlight,
a disorder to groom with a whore for a bride
and open bedroom.
A vacancy window, black hole portal that blocks the sunlight from it's boardroom orgy of doom.
This is the day that I've been waiting for. The lights are brighter then ever the whole place, is filled up. This is the day, that I've been working hard for. It took 19 years of my life to get to walk,across the stage. With teachers saying my, name. This is the day, that I've been born to shine. Congratulations to karleah of class of 2007. This is the day right that I'm supposed to be, feeling happy. And pump up. So why in the world am I feeling so, nervous. Anxiety is starting to kick in. Yet this is the day that I'm, supposed to be hype up. I'm not feeling good I need to hurry and get. This over with see my parents, uncle and his family, my spoiled little sister, are here. I don't understand why, I feel as if my parents and spoiled little. Sister are taking all my spotlight away from me onto them. This is the day that I'm supposed to be, feeling happy. Yet all of my happiness has changed from that, to anxious. What am I supposed to be doing after graduation. What happens next do, I start to apply. To college's and from there start an exciting, career. The walls are closing in I try to do breathe, exercise. And I look at the positive. Of the fact that I've done this, all by myself. Yet what hit me the most, was how. I wasn't talk to get, prepare for my life. After high school. By anyone that I thought should have, prepare me. For this real world, not the TV show. My actual life. In school none of the guidance teachers, or teachers by themselves. And my parents never had the, thought of prepare me. Through this cruel world of adult lives. But this is the day so congratulations to me, for passing the 12th grade.
Sunburst sky sprinkles colors on the new day,
chartreuse meadow adorns pearls of topaz dew,
designs dazzling diadem on grand display.
The bent blades of grass shimmer with olive hue
in the amorous aura of sunshine sheen.
My window frames pristine nature’s charming scene,
the sky crafts chromatic collage as an art
of coral dawn I love, portrayed in my heart.
I’m on the synthetic stage of deception,
under the illusive limelight of time vain.
In make-believe play of life’s affectation
I face many actors, in their roles they reign.
As the times’ deceiving show goes on and on,
on veiled facade of fraud spotlight glare is drawn.
Living sore in the false realm of fake places,
I hate the feigned museum of masked faces.
You Come Out of the Woodwork
By Franklin Price
12/4/2017
You come out of the woodwork
Some from many years ago
Looking for the spotlight
For the fifteen minute show
Look what now is happening
When you to tell your youthful tale
Others jump the wagon
And the numbers make me pale
Many of you justified
Others stretch your youthful views
To degrade some reputations
Have your names within the news
Shame on you who waited
And let others feel the same
For whatever was the reason
Did not spread the pervert's name
Some would profit in the process
When the power copped a feel
Were paid off with the big bucks,
Money made it no big deal
Now that it's the thing to do,
You expose the nasty guys
Point the finger at them
Claim it's them that you despise
A score more may have followed you
But if you were the first
You should not be the hero
For not telling, should be cursed
If you were the first abused,
What the pervert did was wrong
If you had stood up firmly then
Others could not sing your song
The blame is on the dirt at first
For those who followed, some's on you
Would have saved the shame, of some of them,
If you had stood when times were new
The air was thick with things unsaid,
I watched your lips, a silent prayer.
The push and pull within my head
was more than I could easily bear.
Watching and waiting, I held my breath,
tracing the shape of what I wanted.
The evening came to a quiet end,
as we stood together at the door.
I felt the magnetic current bend
as you reached out to ask for more.
Your hands slid along my jawline's trace,
holding me steady, face to face.
I was so shy when you asked to kiss
but you felt the fire and took control.
Your fingers in my curls brought sudden bliss
as a deep, new hunger claimed my soul.
Our lips found a rhythm, gentle and hungry
and I melted against you, forgetting my name.
It was a beautiful, long-lasting kiss.
Tender and lost in the dark night.
We clung to the depth of a moment like this,
breathless and chasing a new delight.
Until the neighbour's motion sensor light
blasted us both with a stadium spotlight.
Nobody applauds the valley.
Nobody posts the nights
when the ceiling feels closer than the sky
and your prayers sound like static.
We want the spotlight.
The trophy.
The soft landing.
But nobody wants
the blistered hands.
See,
we romanticize the view
but curse the mountain.
We beg for strength
then resent the resistance.
Ask for growth
but complain about the growing pains.
And life just stands there like
You can’t have one without the other.
Because accomplishment
without adversity
is just decoration.
It looks good.
It photographs well.
But it doesn’t mean anything.
Meaning is carved.
Into bone.
Into backbone.
Into “I almost gave up but I didn’t.”
Hardship is the chisel.
Trials are the hammer.
And you
You are the stone
becoming something worth remembering.
You don’t appreciate water
until you’ve known thirst.
You don’t appreciate light
until you’ve walked blind through your own doubt.
And you don’t appreciate the summit
until your legs have trembled
and your lungs have burned
and you’ve whispered,
“Just one more step,”
to a version of yourself
that didn’t believe you could take it.
The valley isn’t punishment.
It’s preparation.
It teaches you how to breathe thinner air.
How to carry your own weight.
How to build muscle where fear used to live.
Because when you finally stand at the top
when the thing you prayed for
is finally in your hands
You won’t just celebrate it.
You’ll understand it.
And that understanding?
That’s what makes it sacred.
So don’t curse the climb.
The mountain isn’t in your way.
It’s shaping you
into someone
who can handle the view.
We got a week to prepare
But let’s be fair
There will be a lot of stretching
Limber up
The music being just right
The stage and you in the spotlight
There can’t be any mistakes nor miss steps
We must rehearse and capture the music with every dramatic
Movement
Finesse
Every twist and turn feeling like a test
You alone will be the outcome of confess
Dance dramatics to the audience
Dance and feel the music
Let your feet and arms be your compass
Think of the orchestra as your Music Director
The rising curtain your chance to fame
It will be your name
Dance like the sun being bright
Let your movement radiate warmth
Show your love for entertainment and the audience
The raw of applause in what you have established and accomplished
Grace and creativity with every step
You are the effect
It’s showtime
Take your places
Spotlight on
Music
Production
Finale
Audience applause
Bow
Curtain down
That’s entertainment