Long Strode Poems
Long Strode Poems. Below are the most popular long Strode by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strode poems by poem length and keyword.
An almost stillness came about
as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty
But her obsidian eyes betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me,
and I knew…
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Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?
She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other horny beasts with no spine
That throaty tenderness when she spoke
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says he loathed him, denied she loved him
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her
There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her,
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself
Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.
Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly
I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.
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A certain stillness came about
as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....
Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.
Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…
08112014
Of the body of God
You are a member
Your true essence you knew
But as you sought to recreate yourself anew
You lost your own face
And your path you could no longer trace
You thought you were a tent
At the mercy of this life
And so the winds of strife
Made you lose your strength
With joy you strode along
Solacing where you do not belong
You called fear your friend
Death your foe and ego your lord
Your light lost its amber
Your truth you could not comprehend
But though fallen you are a star
Searching for your lost lane
Be a member once again
Re-member who you really are
Redemption Knight
He rode the wind on mighty steed
He drove it fast to gain more speed
To win the maiden: noble deed
As he galloped in the night…
He found his damsel in distress
With dragon claws clutching her dress
Disheveled hair and heart astress
As he galloped within sight…
One swift leap and he came aground
His rebel yell a mighty sound
Courage to fight in her he found
As he strode into her plight…
She gazed at eyes of azure blue
A depth of love she never knew
For handsome knight so brave and true
As she held on with her might…
He sunk he sword in to the hilt
Dragon heart blood to ground was spilt
Caught the damsel about to wilt
As his valor set things right…
In his strong arms she found her place
She gazed into his angel face
Between their bodies not a space
As the night was tinged with light…
He bowed his head to plant a kiss
A song of love, no dragon hiss
Her world now filled with utter bliss
As to heaven they took flight….
For Isaiah Zerbest Medaeval contest
August 3, 2013
2nd place win
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Knights are Dead
The knights in shining armor have all died
the damsels in distress are left...distressed
what once was chivalry and manly pride
by silence in the fight is now expressed
Where are the men who knew the right from wrong
who'd come to save a weaker one from pain
perhaps they have forgotten to be strong
their pleasure and their peace they want to gain
And so they leave the wounded in the field
Endeavoring to find what brings delight
forgotten are the ones they were to shield
They leave them there to suffer through the night
You were a knight, but that you are no more
those days are gone, they only live in lore
Eileen Manassian
I didn't pull my weight
The boss was really sore
He said "you're second rate
and I won't take it anymore."
He continued raving
On how I was misbehaving
Said my job was not worth saving
And so I longed for Avon
Avon by the sea
I must go back to Avon
Avon by the sea
When my lifeboat needs a haven
When my problems need a maven
This is where I need to be
There's a ten-mile barrier island
It's not that far away:
Where ospreys touch down majestically
and beach forests gently sway.
But also on the Jersey shore
are the roots that once made me,
In the little town of Avon,
and when all the walls are caving
and hunger turns to craving
I retreat to Avon,
Avon by the sea
I took the train last September
Got off at Asbury Park
Strode the miles of boardwalk
Had to stop at coming dark.
I had regrets, I shed a tear
Then I saw a dolphin at setting light
At Ocean Grove I sat on a pier:
And on the shore it seemed alright.
I've paid my dues, I made my plea
They say I was guilty in the first degree
Let me lose the past in Avon,
I'll fly in like an escaping raven
Look! My friends are wildly wavin'
in Avon by the sea.
By middle age he became unseen and hatless;
would not look at the back of his head
as he slipped by unnoticed
through a changing world.
It was some recompense
that his Idea of ‘self’ had expanded;
a self so spiritually inflated
it now inhabited the sky
as if the sky were a pond and it a whale.
When down town,
he walked unseen by the throng,
while he, clearly heard
fanfares and the regal cry of celestial eagles
announcing his presence everywhere.
Head up he strode, past hurrying shoppers,
all intent on ignoring
the supranatural evidence
of his transition to enlightenment.
Even dogs were tugged away
as they dared sniff at him
and that majestic blimp
of his greater being
as it floated high above
clearly for all to see.
He maintained an air of calm dignity
while his greater self
filled all the available space in the small store.
The cahier, seeing nothing
of the grandeur before her
or of his almost palpable spirituality
bagged a bottle of cheap vodka,
and a large packet of salt and vinegar chips.
Shortly thereafter, he rode the bus home
still travelling incognito to his kingdom
on the third floor of nowhere.
Above the decay that feeds this ground
A Destroying Angel strode and gazed around
His carrion birds careened in flight
Above the broken, spectral sight
Of the lost, abandoned city.
An ancient prophet counseled from his mountain,
"Drink not, my son, from the tainted fountain
That flows within that city's walls.
The blood yet wet within its sunken halls
Will poison all who walk its silent streets
With whisperings and dark deceits,
From Furies there shall come no pity."
The Stranger knew, and yet he came
To deliver its Infernal name.
Its people, strong and scornful of the Fates
Missed the traitor at their gates
Who for his price let in their doom
Turned their palaces into tombs.
As yet the air sings songs of violence.
Reflected in his empty eyes
There moved above the bloodied skies
Of sunset or of dawning.
His dusty boots rang through the yawning
Desolation past the city gates
Through which Hope fled to other states
To leave behind this awful silence.
Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.
With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.
Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow
In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.
Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.
In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.
She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.
With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.
She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.
No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.
Thank you for opening the door to me for this write, Robert. It began on a cold Winter night, but Spring rains brought with it, a new beginning. Writing with you is like opening a treasure chest of beautiful gemstones.
Iron Knight of Crystal Lake was valiant and fair.
He strode off in the direction of the witch’s lair
I will not come back without the princess he vowed.
Whistles and loud applause came out from the crowd.
He is such an elf! The Ladies of waiting said with glee.
The oldest said “I wish Iron Knight would come after me!”
This was heard by his brother, his daddy and his mother.
Sorry, they told her. He has been promised to another.
Iron Knight was as good as his word that day.
He came back after rescuing the princess right away.
They strode into town riding the witch’s pet snail.
They had confiscated her spell book and her morning mail.
You are my hero! The princess told him. She gave him a kiss.
This infuriated his betrothed, a jealous persnickety miss.
He ended up with the oldest Lady in waiting after all.
Married her in the King’s own throne room and had a ball.
The cracker crisp Maine air
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.
Lace edged, bobby socks, red Keds,
barrettes, T-shirt and shorts;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, and Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony-tail girl;
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.
Horrific chore, it had to get rid of THE girl?
The boys gawk at her waiting.
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!
Up, up, with the upside down
omelet laying peckers.
Grande dames lance laces,
buttons and barrettes.
wing flap, feathers fly,
deep brown questioning eyes.
“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams,
spitting feathers above the din.
“Up stairs with the whole damn lot of them!”
The boys eye the girl
and with a tilt of her chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
she joins the troops
walking gingerly over
the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!
And into the valley of peckers
strode she.......grin.
Where once Normandy's coast resounded with the din of war,
Now is heard the thunder of the surf racing t'ward the shore.
Where once was heard the screams of dying and wounded men,
Now is heard the mournful cry of a solitary tern now and then.
In June of Forty-four, men stormed ashore to force a breach.
Alas, many forfeited life upon that barren, crimson beach.
Others died scaling those forbidding bluffs so high and steep.
Gallant men quickly learned that victory does not come cheap!
To free the world of tyranny, each took a noble stance,
As across that treacherous strand they made their slow advance.
Waves of courageous men struggled thro' that scarlet tide.
On they strode thro' hell! "Press On! Press On!", they cried!
Upon the plain above Omaha lie over nine thousand men we mourn,
Awaiting Gabriel's clarion bugle call on that triumphant morn!
Gleaming markers are etched with the names of heroes known.
Alas, so many others read, "Known But To God Alone".
Their eternal bourne began when they made their last patrol.
They'll stand proud and tall to answer His calling of the roll!
They rest in hallowed ground that once knew the scars of war.
They are the bravest of the brave, remembered forever more!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)