Long Stitched Poems
Long Stitched Poems. Below are the most popular long Stitched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stitched poems by poem length and keyword.
She moves barefoot through the rain,
a small bright wanderer
with petals stitched along her hem
and more gathered in her hand,
an umbrella blooming
against the soft-falling sky.
Color drifts around her
in gentle, shimmering sheets,
as if the weather itself
has learned her palette
and paints the world
to keep her company.
Her fine hair lifts
in the hush of the rainfall,
a quiet banner of childhood
unfurling behind her
as she hurries forward,
certain of her own delight.
Nothing startles her joy~
not the wet earth,
not the wind’s cool whisper,
not the sky’s bright spill.
She walks as though the world
were made for her small wonder,
and for a moment,
it is.
I walk beneath a sky of molten gold,
With silent storms within my guarded chest;
A tale of fire and prophecy untold
Beats like a drum that will not let me rest.
The road is carved in stone beneath my feet,
Yet thorns and roses bloom along its line;
Each triumph tastes of iron, sharp and sweet,
Each fall resounds with echoes half-divine.
I bear the dreams my fathers could not frame,
Their whispered hopes stitched tightly to my skin;
Their victories and failures speak my name,
And urge my trembling, mortal heart within.
For destiny is not a crown of light,
Nor gentle wind that lifts a soul with ease;
It is a forge that burns throughout the night,
A restless tide that bends the stiffest seas.
It presses hard upon the fragile bone,
It brands the spirit with relentless flame;
It builds a throne from suffering alone,
And crowns the brave who rise above their shame.
Yet in its weight, a hidden mercy lies,
A strength distilled from sorrow’s bitter art;
For those who dare to look through weeping eyes
Will find a lion sleeping in the heart.
So let it come—the burden and the blaze,
The darkened valley and the distant star;
I walk my path through shadowed, ancient ways,
Becoming all the things I truly are.
Disembarkment hearkened a largely unknown universe
Melbourne's sky lifting grid hidden partially
Behind rows of giraffe laughing palm trees
He dinged his car in the line to leave the car park
Home now to brazen 20 year olds, brought both cars
Had booked accommodation in suburb 5 miles north
She was staggered by intensity of Tuesday morning city
Swarming people made beelines to their business day
Several close encounters with trams saw riled passengers
Drastic traffic presented fresh dilemma, stitched thick
Mounting queues in right turn lanes, a phenomena unfamiliar
Billboards blasted big messages, brothels among them
Heavy clusters of vehicles became the pair's detriment
Hives of continued light intersections caused separation
Having easy communication not possible without mobiles
Deviations from course happened dozens of times
Midday passed in a haze of befuddled frustration
Bemoaned youth of 2000 had no GPS to guide their ways!
Satiated by their eventual arrival at accommodation
Sun setting on a scary first day, unwittingly touring
Seventeen suburbs of mayhem monstrosity Melbourne!
For: All In A Day Poem Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
27th August 2020
Hunger walks barefoot through the streets,
while ministers gorge on stolen meats.
Children suck silence instead of bread,
their futures pawned, their dreams half-dead.
The unemployed queue in endless chains,
their sweat dismissed, their labour drained.
Degrees rot in forgotten drawers,
while power laughs behind locked doors.
Corruption fattens on every deal,
their pockets swelling, ours to steal.
Contracts vanish, truth is sold,
justice buried beneath their gold.
They dine in palaces, sip red wine,
while bodies starve in broken lines.
The country bleeds, yet they parade,
in suits stitched tight from what we paid.
And still they preach of brighter days,
while tearing hope in clever ways.
We see their lies, we hear their song
but hungry voices will rise strong.
We shall rise to fight for our future,
and shadows sharpen into light.
The feast of the few will come undone—
the starving many will be one.
One country for all - equal rights!
Leaders will become servant while followers walk with prestige and honour flying my country flag.
What bridges the stale, hot air of summer?
Icecream
Soulful pageant of flavors
A cone piled high
Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry
or Rocky Road sublime
Control unteethered, de-stabilizing diet
Comfort food soothes stress
and laps of relentless striving
To lick, lustfully, the sweet drips
that ooze to our hands
heavy with the weight of June
Inside a limitless obsession
that hammers hunger
that lifts the talons of heat
the trappings of cold, telegraphs relief
an altered state
In the tucked curve of a summer's smile
stitched to a ruddy, sticky
cookie-cream face.
Poem composed: April 1st, 2021
Contest: All Yours (June 7)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
A lass thus dressed half-brash with gown that touched
The edges of my seeing eye ablush.
This richer wine of green, bedeviled beast —
Yes, all her fault unraveled tongue, my speech.
An inch of time opened the myriad
Of seasons...the best of solar systems —
The creaking door alarming with her eyes.
Divine, this emerald city. I’m lost
Between her thighs (she knows not yet). Those eyes!
Oh lovely catlike eyes - the crescent gems
Beguile this slave. Her gown with chains of green.
Hark all! Look away men...her curls do hiss.
Like a seaman at siren’s call, there’s fear —
But no recall of land nor maiden’s face.
The ghostlike mist of Northern lights, her hem.
I’m stitched just right, a ratchet gear of knees.
12/7/2019
Green Dress Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
10 syllables each line
Most in Iambic Pentameter
I sent the SOS
through the inter-dimensional exchange
a while ago~
years, if you measure it
in Earth’s slow turning.
Somewhere, in a corridor
that folds like origami light,
the message is still traveling,
its pulse thinning
as it crosses the stitched seams
between realities.
They should be arriving
any minute now.
The air quivers~
not with sound,
but with the memory of sound,
as if the universe
is clearing its throat
before speaking.
I stand very still,
watching the shadows
lengthen in directions
shadows were never meant to go.
Something is coming.
Something heard me.
The seconds
lean forward
and listen.
They printed a bootleg
Twin of me,
A knock-off stitched in pixels
Of Remnants,
It emulated my stride,
But the soul wasn't tied,
Just a shadow that ain't
Ever been free-
So I caught it slippun'
In the alley-light chant,
Patched together from borrowed
Glow,
Walkin' through corners
I ain't never trodden in.
It talk like me
But the delivery is glitchy
Moves like me
But the spirit is empty, hollow,
A Counterfeit clone
Trying to spend my name
Like loose change
In the wrong hands.
And when it tried to pass
As the real one,
I felt the half-rhyme beat
Kick back in my chest:
A twin made a fleeting in the
Dark of night,
A remix wrong, a stolen light,
It copies my flame,
But can hold my name,
Breaken' apart when failed
With what's right.
So I stood in my authenticity,
Watched that knockoff
Silhouette
Glitch at the edges,
Unravel at the seams,
Cause it ain't built from my
Breathe,
Ain't blessed by my walk
Ain't stamped by the Supreme Being
Will.
Just a Bootleg twin
Tryna link with my
Daylight,
But falling apart
In the real me.
I am a man who woke from the dead once.
I never thought I could fall back into the bedrock.
How can a man be born again after being saved once?
I have found a miracle from God in the impossible.
A second chance, a second man.
A second awakening from now an older man.
This isn’t a time loop, no a new dimension.
Not a layer not a flavor of an onion layer.
Another retry but with a far different token.
I wisp this heavy coin into the pinball machine of life.
Yet, my body feels light, my bags stripped from my body.
Those tarnished bags, taped and stitched to no avail.
I asked for help, I received a wipe.
What I truly needed was not what I wanted.
Oars appear now I must row into chaos fog anew.
This time neutral with wiser blinks.
This second awakening, angels have taken the wheel.
Where it goes is I know not, anywhere but here.
My heart is a secret Garden
Contained within a wall,
Where zinnias and sunflowers
Bid butterflies to call
The birds of multi colors;
Bluebirds and jays of red,
Build nests within the poet tree
Growing near the flower bed
Jasmine adorns her reaching arms
With fragrant blossoms like little charms,
Entwining bracelets around the feet
On statuettes of muses sweet
The grass grows green, where it is seen,
Near walkways paved with gems,
Here muse in white walks in delight
Dress stitched with gold at hems
The gates are only open to the guest
Who holds the key,
The keeper of the garden,
Ever living there with me
And there we walk in wonder
As the sun shines bright above
He sings to me His gentle song
His entering code? Is love.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''