Long Stair Poems
Long Stair Poems. Below are the most popular long Stair by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stair poems by poem length and keyword.
"Puzzle Stomped"
Pieces scattered
placed on a table
with boundaries
between
the incarcerated margins
there are strict conditions
Time drips
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted
imperfectly
perfect
towards upwards
new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with savage dedication
behind her veil
the known Morpheus assails
her compromised senses
holding her captured
behind the external view
eyes blindfolded
the blue sashes now let loose
opening green windows to
free the redressed vicissitudes
to undress the crisp breeze of her
monk chanting wake
a new phantom arrives caressing secrets
gambled on a fresh Delius
composing his unfinished symphony
he’s looking for her singular notes
Somewhere,
he stands behind her
sharp as a needle,
cutting tall poppy
each step she takes
towards her freedom gate
In his hands he cups
the hidden
missing piece
The sewing of pages
she continues to bind
in her sleep
along a strong spine
turning and folding stories
uncommon ne'er sublime
their spelt magic
grows majestically spoilt
seeded from a sweet perfume
conducting intoxicating notes
stories flying black-winged
off all the slippery knaves
and wax-sealed pages
like ebony feathers
mummerating starlings
turn into suffocating
dream stealing
king crows smiling maces
She the Smythsewer
laying tenuous imprints
for a new road home
He the myth Beyond
shakes the game board
peace in pieces, a long forgotten song
the chance card thrown
the blanket of romance
thundering over a stormy mind grows
patch worked with glassed-in
jarred ghost bees, the old
puzzle of a story stomped on
He places his feet
firmly between hers
closing in on time
Beyond takes her hand
And sensually whispers
along all her fairest fears
sweeping all pieces off her
tattered story board
fallen irretrievable
forgotten
left lacking
on the harsh floor
Cum dederit
dilectis suis somnum,
Ecce haereditas
to the tune of fate
there is so much more
the words are sewn and sung
the child in time fled
long gone, as if all was pure fantasy
destiny arrives supernaturally too soon
Time for a new story
He says darkly
and swiftly closes
Past’s door.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
I might be able to bring an end to all of the world’s turmoil and strife,
Because I think that I have stumbled upon the one true meaning of life.
It seems it all began a long time ago when Adam got his Eve,
Let me tell it to you right away so that you might soon believe.
The Lord made Adam fall to sleep and then He took from him a rib,
He said “From this I’ll make a woman,” He wasn’t trying to be glib.
If there’s one thing in this world I know it’s that ribs should come in racks,
And they always should come in one of two ways, St. Louis or baby backs.
I prefer the baby backs although St. Louis style has its fans,
You should be able to enjoy either one you like with dry rub or sans.
You’ll need to coordinate the type of wood you want to use for smoke,
That reminds me I wanted to remember to tell you this woodsy joke.
It seems there was this young tree hugger, who chained herself to a tree,
She told the logger who came for it that you’ll have to cut through me.
He said, “Lady, with the chest you’ve got I’ll need to get a bigger saw,
You shouldn’t be aloud to wear a shirt that tight at least without a bra.”
Now that I think of it, my own shirt is getting kind of tight,
I think that the time to start a diet might just about be right.
With what I’ve been through I’ve added on one or two extra pounds,
Maybe this weekend I should try to golf one or two extra rounds.
But golfing is the kind of sport that takes up so much of my time,
Perhaps to get myself in better shape a stair master I should climb.
When I climb the stairs to go to bed at night, I really am so tired,
Sometimes I start to think about the things to which I have aspired.
And I wonder if the things that I’ve done will ever add up in my life,
Then I turn out the bedroom lights and I kiss my ever-loving wife.
That’s when it dawns on me that no matter how my mind is leaning,
At that precise moment it’s the thing that gives my life its meaning.
That gauzy speculation may be as fleeting as a whisper from a dream,
But the next inspiration waits in line for its turn, in my eye to gleam.
So please remember that the life you have is a gift from our Creator,
Enjoy every second you’re given and live it like there won’t be any later.
I hope the meaning of your life is clearer to you now and this can be a sign,
But if you’re even more confused, at least you’ve found the meaning of mine.
A Visit to Graceland
By Elton Camp
Although Memphis is nearby
To visit Graceland I didn’t try.
Elvis wasn’t much older than me.
So his home I really should go see.
I followed the young tour guide.
“Stay together as we move inside.”
Critics call the house tacky as can be,
But it seemed quite luxurious to me.
No rightful criticism could I make.
In Elvis’ décor I saw no mistake.
I had no decorating advice to give.
It looks better than where I live.
“Now up these stairs is his private space.
The tour to go there would be a disgrace.”
The guide pointed on down the hall.
“On Jungle room, please make a call.”
I stared at the steps with eyes so wide.
“Up there’s where he lived and died.”
I stood alone at the foot of the stair.
Without any guard in charge to care.
Seeing a chance open to few,
I decided just what I would do.
While nobody was around,
Up the stairs with a bound.
In a large bedroom on the right,
Something gave me quite a fright.
“How do you dare to come up here?”
He asked in a voice shaky but clear.
He had a shock of dyed black hair,
But in places it was growing spare.
Then his great size next me astounds.
He must weigh three hundred pounds.
“Just who do you think you are?
Nobody’s allowed to come this far.”
I felt like I was about to faint.
Surely, Elvis the King that ain’t.
“Everybody thinks I died years ago
They must continue to think it’s so.
I can never be fat and old.
So that big lie I have told.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I cry.
“Before I would tell it, I’d sooner die.”
He looked at me with a trace of a grin.
“No way can you betray this has been.”
“Nobody would believe a story like that.
A claim you saw Elvis alive, old and fat.”
I realized it was all too true.
If I told it, the day I would rue.
Liar would become my name
For harming Elvis’ great fame.
“We know Elvis long ago died.
What type drugs have you tried?”
And right then I began to shake
Until it brought me wide awake.
My own bedroom I did then see.
In Memphis town I couldn’t be.
No matter how real it did seem,
It had been nothing but a dream.
But I didn’t really so much care
That it had only been a nightmare.
For if Graceland I ever visit for real
And find Elvis alive, I’ll never squeal.
Trim and handsome all want him to be.
No unfavorable image should they see.
Do I trespass if I knock at your door
Would you be frightened to see I also have a full cup
And call the cop because I am black and you are white
You were none of this I would believe
We had no dividing line except that within our gender
And yet for all, our words could climb from bed to bed
And I could against their promise lay my head.
I am not threatened by a woman revolting against history
And fear the dumb traditions than more than I fear
The truth liberating our different poles to embrace the center of our love
There is no dividing line between the poet and the word.
What then shall we make for a facade of difference
The absence or presence of the sun
For day and night only describe the inadequacy of the eyes
Stars are liquid boilers and builders of atoms into dust
Nothing solid in the bright space of it my mass would trust
Atoms, cells, male, female, lovers and distinctions
Deceivers all, we made them to be the delusion of us
Endlessly we yield
To the giving we are receiving back again
This coming and receding
Pounding in our hearts, wrapping us in swaddling tides
Nursed by lactating time ... this is all we have and kiss
Time the imitator of eternity by persistency
Have fooled our hearts with vanity
Now we are not so rich again without your words
Rolling, rocking, to and fro
The pendulum of our illusion is a dry breast of milky way
We are ahead by the words wings beating in our brain
The cage flustering the feathers in their flight
From trees, herds and people, rocks edifying the rigor of the stream
Life moves backward while standing still
From the seat where imagination changes gear
I hear an engine groaning up an hill
Across inflexible landscapes, and the many distinctions of our selves
The illusion of difference is a solid wall.
Let us like children blow our bubbles still
And seed the air with its own vapor
I love them coming into being, and suddenly popping out again
And for some pretty ones felt the weight of love's despair so
What is the meaning of morning here if night is always there
Waiting at the curving of the sun?
Who left the door open for the milk man coming up the stair
He picks up the empty bottles, leaving apples in their place
You must bring down to him milk again
To nourish my famished tears among the ladderless world of stars.
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
alone with the enduring Earth, and Night.
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
who wrestles with his dream; as some pale shape.
Their sharp black heads against a quiet sky,
where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies.
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Call to the HOURS, that in the distance play.
I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn,
the spots and struggles of the timid Dawn
here where seclusion looks out on a scene
not what will be, but what, long since, has been.
So scathe it, as the flocks with venom-bite
And where the red was, lo! the bloodless white.
THE relic taken, what avails the shrine,
or crackling holly, or the gummy pine?
The trees are full of the dark-stooping night
with octaves of a mystic depth and height.
When life is done? Perchance in other spheres--
across the gulf of darkness and salt tears,
I would not tarry if I could be gone,
as one who having wandered all night long.
Among th' immortal pow'rs, and free from care;
even the torment sighs soft in the air.
The shrieking of the tempest-tortured tree,
of her most ancient, chastest mystery;
untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
three months bade wane and wax the wintering moon
with vain Inscriptions, which the Freeze has borne.
But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn?
Every conception that a man can find
that dwell within the compass of the mind
sink tower and temple; nothing long may stay
of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day.
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
an orb's dim throes, by iron stars controlled.
A climbing moon upon an empty sky;
the grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold,
who can distinguish darkness from the soul
for him, that calls for Succour from the Throne
till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone?
Catch the faint voice, and raise the languid head.
what need of name or music hath the dead?
I hear huge Pestilence draw vaporous breath,
come, heavy sleep, the image of true death
with silent feet into sleep's poppied lair.
My Soul. I summon to the winding, ancient stair.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men
as silent Suns to meet the Night descend.
With the onset of advancing age, so I find,
A man grows weary of all mundane talk;
Occupies his every spare, idle thought
With that of the slow, reflective kind.
Regretful of many a squandered hour,
Turning his back on the squabbling nations,
Their woeful, self-serving deliberations,
Dreams wistfully of his own starlit tower.
Should he hopefully find that blessed stair,
Wound insides of the ancient, dim lit wall,
Where tread from unseen feet sometimes fall,
He could but elevate himself above his cares;
There, throwing his soul upon the night,
Lift his gaze upon a tumultuous crowding!
His thinning pate adorned with a crowning
From a far-flung, pale, distant light.
And if he was to fix his mind upon that point;
To that moment forcefully bring to bear,
With every ounce of fibre when stood there,
An unremitting will to somehow exploit,
That, which, the mystics so jealously guarded...
Then, perhaps, he might too ascend?
For, in all reality, at the very end,
All is thrown off...the very body discarded.
Therefore I will choose my own finality.
I give my remaining days to old worn steps
Enclosed in rock, a turret that silhouettes
Against an endless sky; and if it should be
That I find such hallowed battlements
Give aging legs the strength to slowly climb,
To praise the celestial and sublime,
When reaching up where my God frequents.
For though those stars seem out of reach,
Unattainable by grand, omnipotent design,
Nevertheless I am thusly to be inclined
To offer up a prayer and unto him beseech:-
"Immortal father who created mortal man,
Ye who sits above all earthly thrones,
Give unto me old tools and rubbled stones,
And I shall endeavour to do what I can...
To rebuild that abandoned, crumbled tower...
For, Lord, be it only by dreams men are
Truly empowered"!
lids black out and allow me to write
while eyes shut tight
bring back four legged friends sprite
and though many years passed quite
I can remember those precious creatures
who barked at night
howling at inaudible sound or invisible light
casting silhouettes that fight
punctured the air with verbal byte
and now I list long gone
smart pets in alphabetical order – alright?
Baron – substantially German Sheppard
met his demise chasing a car on level road
the advantage overtaken
per vehicle with greater lode
which accidental death
found him buried in an unmarked grave
i.e. underground abode.
Georgie – a combination Boxer and Dalmatian
(with his cropped tail to boot
grew up as my canine brother
an essentially gave up the ghost
from organ failure of one or another.
Lady – this fur certain white German Sheppard
uncertain how, when or what
led to her body to collapse
perhaps while listening to snoop doggy dog raps
found on base near first stair
when rigor mortis set deathly traps.
Ruff – he and his litter mate Teddy
(listed below), an alpha beast o man’s and
woman’s best friend with moments of rage
as applicable to a dog, and seemed
to evince an intelligence like a sage.
Schultz – he apparently vanished in thin air
without a trace, not e’en
a filament of fur like hair
hopefully taken in by another pet lover,
but who knows where.
Shadow – pride of eldest sister,
he succumbed after becoming thermally ill
though diminutive for a black lab,
his absence left a void quite large to fill.
Socrates - dealt with harsh mistreatment
and distemper than tossed out
like trash, mine to sisters,
who nursed him with tender loving care
from his faux paws to a keen snout
which maintained his longevity no doubt.
Teddy – another throw away pet
found at Jacobsburg –
near Easton, Pennsylvania.
one lame leg (damaged
during his puppy hood)
lived til olde age.
my younger sister ( Shari)
brought him and Ruff home,
where their entire life he did stay
inherently evincing intelligence
that happiness found that chance
provided a doting owner this way.
With every gust of wind, secret taboo,
secreting a web a cocooned prison
of liquid knowing, flowing,
emulsifying impossibly old and new.
In the beyond of the known, stair-stepped,
desert bone flashed into
your consciousness a confident cajoling.
To stew, on the broth of you.
A teasing shot across your bough
of lost resistance and preservation
your eyes rolling white to the out of blue.
Sailing magnetic across it's salivate maw
and unflinching gaze
You are its pupil satellite Positron of drug,
positioned, strung shift of phase shift
of new vistas of truth and beauty unsealed,
inlayed in the naked language of the Angels, stage.
You are, quickened.
Quickened-Quicksilver, tuning, dimensionality,
Principality.
Hidden depths of self,
trigger emotion and thoughts
of infinity divided by three.
A black hole of obscene curiosity
swallows your mind.
Consciousness crests
in trans-mission inflated verbose
relay of Celeste divine? Freet?
You are a place of shipwrecks and mires,
Vagabound desires.
Who dares to sail beyond the horizon of the known retreat.
You come to an isle
of Precious golds and silvers
in frequency bands of holo-hold.
Land of spellcraft, music, heresy, thrones.
Centrigual placement of palaced
internment, camp of strange instruments,
beautiful adorned accoutrements, and contrived designs.
Rune of keys you can feel, the need.
To play them, a feeling, freed.
You shape the music into an arch entity
that offers you it's drink.
You become a dizzy swirl, unable to think to speak...
Of
Silk robes of every delicate fabrication of sin.
Jewels undone, in mythos biolocationed- transmogrifliquesatisfactions.
Yet the symbology remains constant
in it's sustain of visual topology.
Guiding you through the choppy waters
on ethereal landing
in land of the cloud of uncertainty, in hymnal,
refrain, refrain from it's hypnotic beat.
Hold on tight, Jane, Jason of the
foams and eddys and strangered things.
The exhilerating peril, in para parable.
Epic Tome, seasoning tomb of forner deed, denial plausibility causible.
Be ye not
thirsted for the salts of her drink.
For these are the Seven Seas.
No roof no mood flat affect
Glances empty no space for sorrow
Small rucksack to collect
No tears to borrow
A sloppy flute
A black and white photo
Of a young boy now mute
Carpe Diem his motto
Dreamy alone and in despair
Jonny the homeless lives there
By the Post Office stair
Some bags and a few rugs to wear
Ask for him and give him a penny
To play ‘Serenade’ by his son Tony
Died three years ago leaving alone Amy
If you aim to know a romantic story
“General Hospital, Leigh Valley
Room Number Five, Head Nurse Sally
Hippocastanum Alley
Floor 2, could remember hardly”
Tony could gather
His tunes from the storm
From the sun and from his father
Feverish nights since he was born
Holding dad’s hands
To cope with his pain
Plagued by swollen glands
Now saluted by a brittle rain
One night Darkness
Scuffling his noisy leaves
Waving his branches
Knocked on his windows rims
It craved Tony during Fall
Tormented by pain torn by malaise
Dad Jonny couldn’t hold him whole
Asking to docs for some delays
Then a cessation rainbow
A leaf fell with no array
Onto Tony’s window
It took him while floating away
“Tony my Tony”…
Talented flautist with poisoned blood
It was when leaves are yellow and brown
General Hospital alley season’s stylish
Hippocastanum wrapping the road gown
You can hear leaves swish
Now Jonny plays Tony’s last tune
‘Serenade for flute’ by a leaf that has gone
Playing it for the kids that gather there in turn
Rehearsing it whenever alone
He plays it for a few pennies
To buy some food and cardboard beds
A lively melody in subways galleries
All he owned gone for staminal cells
Jonny the homeless in his little tent
No tears to spend
Asking for a penny to lend
For some stars and for a grief to bend
At night he can hear the breeze
No one to talk no one to say
He looks at the stars and hears
Tony’s tunes sent for his dismay
Looking at the sky at South-South East
On Orion Belt the first three notes
Serenade the only reason to feast
And the kids asking for Tony’s quotes
Fall again in the road
Breeze playing Serenade
To the trees by the wind towed
To the stars in a melodic cascade
Your chosen name was Sarah
So named many moons ago
Nursing my growing belly
Consumed by the moonlight glow
Watching above twinkling starlight
So planned whole life with you
Thinking before you were born
As Sarah inside me grew
You were my total secret
Was conceived in passions flame
Dearest Sarah I loved you
From deciding on your name
My Sarah, Princess Sarah
So saying under my breath
Could no longer hide my shame
To stay would be our death
Many miles I walked that day
Until tired I tumbled down
Faint blackness closed in on me
Woke to dog jumping around
I was carried to a barn
Caring hands tend to my hurt
Shouted out Princess Sarah
Thought I would get just desert
All the while they quietened me
Soothing words urged my repose
Three months later I was birthed
Sarah with sweet button nose
Welcomed home as family
With Sarah too on the farm
When Princess Sarah was two
My worries brought to alarm
Recognised some visitors
Standing beyond the gateway
Turning one looked towards me
With relief they walked away
Princess Sarah at my breast
Reached to wipe away my tear
Nothing further ever said
I worked on year by year
One midsummer, a pageant
May queen to be elected
Gathering in Jackson’s field
My Sarah was selected
She was dancing around the maypole
Sixteen and willowy tall
All eyes on her lovely face
Sarah was gone by nightfall
Princess Sarah was abducted
Bad men carried out this deed
Searched far and wide hereabouts
Note arrived, read “your bad seed”
My dearest Princess Sarah
All in turmoil senses lost
My sin has caught up with me
to my Princess Sarah’s cost
I prayed for deliverance
Then came an amazing sight
My darling Princess Sarah
Glimmering in the moonlight
Her dark eyes looked into mine
With her hair all gone awry
Streaming tears blurred my vision
To blink I tried to deny
But within a fatal blink
Sarah had disappeared
No stirring of the night air
Now so sadly as I feared
So up to bed I then did tread
Sank exhausted on the stair
In dreams Princess Sarah comes
How I long to hold her close
One day it will be final
When I too am in repose