Long Starkness Poems

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


Latent Black Payback

Losses not consolidated leave contributor raw
Arrears rip pages of rational compassionate law
Turblent thoughts toss turn to channel retaliation 
Embittered brain rubs static into smooth radio station
Nocturnal curtain eternal drawn over forgiving stance
Tortured cortex tar drips coal smudge repugnance 


Behind lids of eyes fingertips pressing upon
Lacking exposure conjures warped projection 
Attonement can't be granted during darkness 
Confessions sparkle once in white starkness 
Killing accountability in murky private mind 


Proliferating hatred sees old harm magnified 
Asperity of sins committed stew in torpid trench
Years of historic plot twist regale harsh revenge
Bulged breeding dim ideas seethe evil scheme 
Attack mapped by movie shock putrid scenes
Creeping balaclava covered crow bar at chest
Knavish initiation repaid with blood reaps debt






                                      24th August 2021

                      Written for Contest : The Colour Black
                          Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Form: Acrostic


Premium Member Words Questions Questions

Words

The words I use, are the multi coloured leaves
I share, the leaves that fall from my autumn trees.

They are the flowers, from who’s ovule, come the seeds 
that have fallen upon none fertile ground.

Going nowhere, but around and around. 
From them, nary a word, not a sound.

In decay, having fallen from the stem,
 they tell, they enlighten, to who ?, who I am.

They, sometimes come, in torrential showers. 
These word pictures of mine, never reach the towers, 
for they are nothing more than dying, decaying flowers’. 
Dust on the wind, falling upon the blind, the deaf, like rain 
screaming to all, telling of degradation, humiliation and pain
that this life has brought, and brings around again.

All that has come from within, 
I do not know where to begin, 
except from this troubled soul.
From where it all comes ?, I do not know !
It just comes in flashes and begins to show 
me, upon pages that lay before these eyes 
as they come across the darkened skies, 
from where this life of mine lies

?????

You have come, boldly to me 
like a dream in the darkness, 
yet you seldom allow me to see 
beyond the veil,  your life in all its starkness. 
I never know where you have been ?, 
I only know what I have seen.
Form: Rhyme

In the eye of the storm

Clouds rolled overhead as the wind whipped up molasses
The sweet heady scent of the Incoming storm
I call for you now, to come in and shelter 
A call left unheard in this wild open space

Clouds swiftly darken casting shadows of  starkness 
Sweetness turns brittle as the air hunkers down
Echoing sounds of the wind determinedly  surging forward
Air smothering daylight in a heavy cloak of velvet

I call again, to summon you home
A call caught up in the billowing gale
The crashing shriek of branches breaking
Herald warning to seek retreat

Then all at once, eeriness falls
Deafening silence enveloping 
In the eye of the storm all I saw was you
Your bright amber eyes holding my gaze

Calling me home to come in and shelter
To weather the storm with you on my lap
Calling me in from the storm and the chaos
Too late as I hear the thunderstorm clap

Premium Member The Hall of Mirrors

The hall of mirrors

The hall of mirrors
gives us the shivers,
for each form therein,
deems itself virgin.

Although light is white,
prismatic delight
spawns myriad hues,
designed to confuse.

A well known story ~
cave allegory,
bondage to darkness,
blocking truth’s starkness.

We are yet in mind,
thus gripped in it’s bind.
We stoop to conquer,
when with love concur.

‘My daddy strongest’,
says each earth bound guest,
although all are one,
reflecting the sun.

Narrow minds are closed,
thus truth is disposed,
as we so package
God in scripture’s cage.

We may yet be free,
if head-heart agree,
to simply be still,
while voids within fill.

Clock of time rewind,
leave knowing behind.
Let us meditate,
as bliss beats gyrate.

05-June-2022

Notes: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_the_cave
Form: Jueju

Premium Member A Desert Walk

Let me tell you a story of Nature
and my early morning walks in the
desert. The fragrance of cactus blossoms
and the starkness of its beauty beckon.

Or, is it the silence, like no other, interrupted
only by the hum of bees and tiny species
who materialize when you draw a handful
of sand to your eyes, viewing them as equals.

This is the playground of coyotes and jackrabbits,
sure to practice social distancing, at least the jacks!
Where desert rats dig shelters far beneath the earth,
safe and cool--and even squirrels abide.

It is shared by rattlesnakes seeking shade under tall
mesquites, causing travelers to choose where their
next step goes. In the near distance are the 
mountains, given birth by volcanos in centuries past.

In early evening, the mountains don cloaks of violet
as the glorious sunset turns desert plants ablaze in
reds and golds--nature's gift to us. Turning indigo,
the mountains stand like sentries in the night.

Soon, thunder clouds gather and rain begins its journey
to the thirsty mouths of plants and soil. Animals scurry for
shelter, to appear when midget lakes take form and they can
bathe and frolic. The scent of desert rain is a rare perfume.

The desert isn't meant for those who need forests and lakes,
or city dwellers lost among tall buildings, basking in its noise.
No, they would not survive the loneliness, where one's thoughts
are steadfast companions, and music the songs of coyotes.

Early morning, when enjoying the walk, I sometimes surprise a
fox, or find a nest of hummingbirds, so tiny, mouths open waiting
for breakfast. I see nature in its truest light, unfiltered by the 
haze of progress. How lucky I am to call the desert my friend.

NATURE THEME
April 15, 2022
for Form N - Narrative New Poetry Contest
by Constance La France
A Second
© Ann Peck  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative


My Dream Within A Dream

“Day dreams lay dead in dreams, but when life is breathed into them, they soar beyond the boundaries of success.”
— Poet
  My dream is to be great in life,
 That all I touch shall turn to gold,
 And melt like butter on hot knife.
 Thus my reward shall be tenfold,
   Full of thriving, less of strife,
Grow finer, like a wine brewed old~
  That buds find its rhythm in fife,
      A belief I hold in heart bold.

         So surprising it becomes,
When I dreamt this dream in dreams,
   And dance to its beats on drums,
 Then its true essence truly gleams,
     And its true purpose it sums.
    Its starkness guided by beams,
As if life's dreams are like ripe plums,
   That come as easy as they seem,
    Such that to no loss it succumbs.

   True dreams are fulfilled in sleeps,
   And not drowned in dwams' dams,
      Where doubt constantly creeps,
   To make dreams appear as shams,
         Yet my life-dream still peeps
      Through this life's tangled jams,
           To a place no one weeps,
       And free from dreams' logjams.

The Mysterious Image

I wake up to another hectic day,
then look at myself and ask," who are you?"
        Now I won't let my heart be lost astray;
someone from the dark watches me in hue.
       There is a world outside painted in blue,
that remains bizarre yet always feels proud,
       every soul on earth constitutes that crowd;
pouring wine under chandeliers in glee,
     they rush through their lives complaining aloud;
oh dear not long ago that had been me.

       They seem to be my forlorn history,
from a lost life in an old distant land,
       a story that remains a mystery,
dull pages of a book buried in sand.
       Ah! I recognize this image so tanned,
it no longer seems to haunt the darkness,
      that's my image with a little starkness!
"You define yourself by who you have been,
      I'm here to enthrall, you misunderstand,
time for you to create what you haven't seen."

May 10, 2020

For Dizain - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance(Dear Heart)
~Winner: First Place

BRIAN'S SELECT J,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~Winner: First Place
Form: Dizain

Premium Member It's Time For Me To Fly

What is this strange place we find ourselves in...
Trapped in the open, we are free within
It’s a prison of the soul, restricting the feeling
That comes from gentle hope moved to healing
It’s a jail of hard truths, raining down despair
The power of a heart who is living on a prayer
It’s a captivity of the spirit who needs revealing
The wonder of a love who is bent down, kneeling
It’s the detention of a thought who knows life
That dances with the joy found despite the strife
It’s the caging of a passion in the shadow of darkness
The whisper of a caress despite night’s starkness
It’s the pen that confines the need to be heard
That everlasting demand for the love that is preferred
It’s the entrapment of a light who shines through the skies
The glow of something greater than the pain can baptize
It’s the love that comes to live on the inside of a heart
Who knows that this emotion will never weaken or depart
It is like an eccentric poet who remembers those wrote of
The ones who love, who gives generously, without a motive

It is like the bird with wings, who struggles to fly
He knows when he lets go of the fear, his wings will comply
Finally, from the heavens, he’ll know nothing but blue sky




The Matrix Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
March 31, 2022
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Last Warning

God,
In His infinite wisdom said:*
“Let there be light” 
Then 
He went on to create this spectacular world
For us to delight!  
 
Man,
In his infinite "stupidity"** retorted:  
“ Let there be darkness” 
Then 
He was set to destroy this marvelous world 
With his mind's dim-witted starkness! 

Now,
Man has the horrible consequence of his 
Abominable crime to face
Which is no other than the obliteration*** of   
Self-centered human race! 

 

© Demetrios Trifiatis
  03 APRIL 2014


*Genesis, 1:3  

**“Albert Einstein said: "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.”

*** On Monday, March 31st 2014, UN’s most sobering report 
to date that was the result of a joint effort of 300 scientists
 was published. It grew to 2,600 pages and 32 volumes. 
The conclusions of the report are disheartening:
“We  are in an era where climate change isn’t some kind of future hypothetical,”
said Chris Field, one of the two principal authors of the report, and Rajendra
Pachauri, chair of the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) added: 
“Nobody on this planet will be untouched by climate change.”
This means no man or animal on the planet, as well as the earth itself, will be
unaffected!

Premium Member If Only We Could Turn Back the Hands of Time

An island  I have become, in  the  shadows  of  darkness, 
and  the  boundless ocean  waves  of  salty  tears  of  starkness. 
High  overhead  all  moving  about,  thousands  and  millions, 
a  plafond  of  stars  looks  down  upon  me  with  its  brilliance. 

If only we could turn back the hands of time,  a pinch or wink; 
my heart half full would ink a path through nature's acres to drink 
the   irreplaceable  moments  I  once  had  under  a  lace 
canopy  of  overhanging  leaves  and  gaze  upon  your  face. 

In the morning light,  I would embrace your soul,  and steal a kiss. 
We'd  bath in years of rapturous tears;  fountain of endless bliss. 
If only we could turn back the hands of time, snatch back the past,
my heart bulging with yearning hope would ink a path that would last.


10/17/2019
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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