Long Streaks Poems
Long Streaks Poems. Below are the most popular long Streaks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Streaks poems by poem length and keyword.
Moonlight was the only light to make streaks across
a sky full of suspense which even a thief was afraid of;
and as I dragged you along lamp-lit, narrows streets,
we seemed two ghosts wearing human masks...
but what was on our delirious minds, if not love?
Your wish was to be on the Ponte Dei Respiri to sigh and dream...
while viewing that moon with new eyes to catch that rare gleam,
but the quickest way to get there was to wave down a gondolier! But there was
no space as thousands of people, wearing masks, were riding in those gondolas...
without despairing, we stopped on the nearest bridge and passionately kissed!
I resembled the Phantom of the Opera without that disfigured face;
you seemed like the seductive Dodge's wife so glamorous and gleeful,
and your mask was of the loveliest blue as the sky over the Adriatic Sea...
when Saint Mark's bells rang and doves flew to revive their past glory.
Oh, darkness endure more to let our memory always be a night in Venice!
Entered in Nette Onclaud's contest,
" It's Mask Time "
Written by Andrew Crisci
Lured to the moon-splashed ledge by silver streaks
of valorous fish leapt to trace the slow sloped
parabola of atmosphere, I reach
the liquid and let the curious crests grope
my naked feet, muddied from midday rain
still gathered on the trail leading back home
in puddles held by a void. A distant train
lumbering, I hear the Earth’s quiet sigh, a groan
of age burdened by youth, a mother’s pain
to find her son swapped her Buick for shoes
and dirty socks. The imprint of heavy tread
traces the path to sleep the woken refuse,
where I’ve chosen to crush the tin-can instead.
The light on the train through a strengthening shower.
Silent sighs hide inside breath clouds
exhaled into sentimental air
as brisk winds summon twilight,
tinting innocent horizons.
Oxygen dances with atmospheric particles
creating a plethora of chemical reactions.
Enchantment illuminates in flashes of
colourful magnificence.
Celeste sapphire hints indulge
through violet shades of lavender hues.
Streaks of scarlet crimson petals
flow among coral flamingo shades
as golden streaks swim through
emerald crystallised skies,
seeking sanctuary within the realms
of infatuated devotion.
and that was the first time I saw her eyes
her perfect gift to the world.
Silent One
26 October 2017
Simple musing
In the Whispering Night
by Michael R. Burch
for George King
In the whispering night, when the stars bend low
till the hills ignite to a shining flame,
when a shower of meteors streaks the sky,
and the lilies sigh in their beds, for shame,
we must steal our souls, as they once were stolen,
and gather our vigor, and all our intent.
We must heave our bodies to some violent ocean
and laugh as they shatter, and never repent.
We must dance in the darkness as stars dance before us,
soar, SOAR! through the night on a butterfly's breeze:
blown high, upward-yearning, twin spirits returning
to the world of resplendence from which we were seized.
Published in Songs of Innocence and Romantics Quarterly. This is a poem I wrote for my favorite college English teacher, George King.
Ironic tears that spill are mocking me
in scathing streaks delighting down my cheeks.
They trace their paths as soft as fingertips
atop sad ivories caressing pain -
but shame me in their scalding disregard
and blame me that they even do exist.
I ache in death knell spiral of regrets,
their embers smolder as they stoke with ire
with flaring pain till nothing’s left but ash -
besmirched by lust reduced to worthless grey.
My life now but an aftertaste of soot;
sweet self-indulgence too much to withstand.
In sunset mood I grow my shadow’s length
in angst I’m reaching out midst twilight guilt,
beseeching in day’s fade Salvation’s light;
forgiveness of my own abandons me.
Oh, burn of sins does choke my soul in smoke
as tattered heart is purged upon the pyre.
Susan Ashley
February 2, 2018
~ First Place ~
Contest: Contest 600, Any Free Verse, Any Theme, Max 20 Lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
T i me
I’m a mistress to your fleeting cycles,
constantly constricting,
russet-deep pupils
that see the maroon rain~
veiled in honey and turmeric flames…
Today I lift my hands
in s i l e n c e
to spin pearls of prayers
from
strings of patience...
for I am my Sun’s~
your maternal daffodil
singing songs of solace
as you rise~
facing the unknown
nestled on the cusp of summer storms,
while the sky wears dazzling dreams
and answers you seek,
tensed amidst the tourmaline
twinkling along
the trail of thought…
Yet I hope
you'll trace seraphic streaks,
oblivious to the material mists.
Life goes beyond ink on paper~
calculating missteps,
evaluating errors.
We are more than specks of
sand and stardust,
sailing through streams
of lessons learned,
awaiting the return of winged comets~
for we are sleep-waltzing
through this sphere,
and to the angels,
we shall
r e s u me
So let the frost of fears
and icy embers of terrors
thaw and melt,
rippling in waves of wisdom.
For you are more than a
prisoner to pages
of unresolved equations.
You are the constant, the sum,
the ultimate key to the paradox.
Remember~
my love for you
weighs heavier than
trinkets and treasures…
You are~
the rhyme to my sonnet,
the reason to my rhythm,
the muse that prompts me,
and I breathe,
and I live
to be your
twilight
when the world
forgets that
you
are
an ethereal star,
brighter than the rosiest dawns.
I dream
in the golden glow
of a sakura orchid
nestled between blooming browns~
as saffron streaks of sunsets
spill syllables of l o v e and trust,
scented with sugared crystals,
emitting musical verses
to calm the inner child~
healing in silence
dusted with pastels of p e a c e.
But when the fragrance of
summer wanes,
leaving a heavy horizon
glistening with grieving galaxies,
remember, I am an aching poem
kissed by the garnet green,
refusing to follow
melted moonbeams,
merged with moving monsoons,
and yesterday’s fickle footprints,
that remain,
soaked in rain and tears,
like pixelated promises to the
cracked cosmos,
lost within sand petals,
as nightingales croon
of strife and life,
of cold summers and fleeting colors.
So tonight,
I’ll carve my own b l i s s
from the haze of violet gratitude~
engrossed in trembling ink,
allowing another month
to fade into the ether,
as memories blossom
in blue-black,
staining champagne chalices
with smoke and salt
while somewhere
between fireworks filling up
twilight skies,
rippling with mystic topaz
kissing
the fluorescent stars
sparking across
midnight shorelines,
I found sequins of h o p e
amidst the unattained closure
to the rising of
an inescapable end.
This is the voice of a thistle
reluctant
to
compromise and comprehend
the sound of ticking thunder,
for I am the eucalyptus elixir
to an alchemist’s waterfall,
weaving odes to the eclipsed time
that sleeps in the cusp
of liquified lilacs
crawling through
serpentine circles…
as I have found a rhyme to
glamorize every forsaken line,
letting go of bleached pages
that have no
spirit of resilience,
and chapters with
frosted names
that have
no
space for s o l a c e . . .
“What is that Mommy?” the young girl asked pointing and stopping to stare…
“That’s a Fairy Circle.” Mom whispered. “The fairies live under there.”
“It occurs when a shooting star streaks in front of the the moon after an evening storm.
It’s the only time this doorway between our two worlds is formed.”
“Most of the time fairies live underground…
but when the circle is created they seize their chance.
to enter into our world and around this circle…they dance.”
“Legend has it fairies love to dance…love to feel the beat
and when they tire from all that dancing they use the mushrooms as their seats.”
“If you’re lucky enough to see them dance,” mom continued…
then you will be forever blessed
with a life of good health and joy…of contentment and happiness.”
“Do you think we can see the fairies dance?” the young girl asked as she touched a mushroom stem.
“I’m not sure,” mom smiled…”for that is entirely up to them.”
“We’ll come back tonight while the moon is still full but let me warn you before we begin
we can’t see the fairies dancing…unless they invite us in.”
That night they walked together hand in hand
behind a tree they hid….
and around the circle of mushrooms…
that’s just what the fairies did?
The dawning sun ignites the sky ablaze
so many times, in early morning hours-
with vibrant colors that, with joy amaze
my waking eyes in awe of nature's powers.
With splashes of vermillion-orange streaks
against the layered, pink-blue clouded sky,
bright glowing sky spreads out and softly peeks
through lacy, dark tree limbs that mystify.
This peaceful view brings magic to my day-
so richly blazed by nature's grand display.
March 7, 2022
~1st Place
Contest: Form I - Imagism - New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Judged: 03/18/2022
Take me again…
Take me… for I am nothing without you
Tease my desires with your fingers a’ wander
Upon quivering flesh, shivering needs cry
All of this is yours, deeply offered, rhythmically played
Bite me… little marks to revisit at dawn
My chest, my thighs, my soul pleads
Drinking of this passion, thirsting for more
Peering up at you, wings flutter within my heart
Use me… as I lay here, hands lifting
Slow circles encompass warm breaths
Moaning eclipses bring edged light from outer visions
Cupped of fevered frenzy and firm decisions
Ride me… I am your stallion, unsaddled, unbridled
Grip my mane, tear at my shoulders, guide me to that valley
Where whispering willows sway in mahogany waves
Finding the depths of your heightened encampment
Scream me… my name on your lips excites
When the comet appears and streaks the sky
Flashing sparks meld between us shimmering, erupting
in a cosmic flow, lava escapes in hot pulsating streams
Take me again… for I am nothing without you
Good night Soupers