Long Sunless Poems
Long Sunless Poems. Below are the most popular long Sunless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sunless poems by poem length and keyword.
(note: The site restrictions don't allow long epic poems, so I have split this into 6 segments, each should run straight on from the previous one.)
THE EYE OF THE SEA
Or
The Rime of the Ancient Kubla Kahn on the Road to Mandalay
There washed ashore a devil’s whore
Who claimed he’d never been paid,
Near dead from Sin, or weatherin’
Yet feared to loose his blade.
We did our best to ease his rest,
But our experts all were vexed:
The Old Wives College exhausted their knowledge;
The doctors cursed their texts.
Wracked with pain his life had waned
His eyes were growing dim,
His final words were barely heard:
Everything looked grim.
With chicken pills we cured his chills,
For strength we gave him broth,
His brow was mopped, his temperature watched,
We swaddled him in sailcloth.
Then from afar with strengthened heart
As if ‘twere heaven’s game
His mien changed, he had regained
The pilot to his flame.
In heartened mood we gave him food,
And bade his tale be told;
And so he spoke for the price of a toke
And a butcher’s bag of gold.
“ ‘Twas in the port of Herringford,
Where all the cows lie down,
A skipper talked, he claimed he sought
A crew of great renown.
The wind was high in a sunless sky,
The waves were barreling in,
And word got round of men to be found
That night at The Mortal’s inn.
At eight o’clock the bolts were shot
And all were locked within,
With muttered words of rumours heard
And lubricant of Gin.
The Captain coughed and glanced around
For conversations shed,
With laser gaze and aged malaise,
In a darkened voice he said:
‘Into the storm at the crack of dawn
We sail on the morning tide,
Let no man here betray his fear,
His passion or his pride!’
The aim of the endeavour was legend’ry treasure,
The fabled crystal ship of the Prince,
Lost years before off the Straits of Nepal,
And famously quested for since.
Our boat, ‘The Eye,’ was a Barquentine,
Just a quarter league in length,
She sailed as sweet as a sackful of eight,
With grace and speed and strength.
Twelve good men without pretence
Agreed to the journey ahead,
But the cheery tales of places sailed
Belied their inner dread.
The crew we got were a hardy lot,
Experienced one and all,
But none were fools and caution ruled
When it came to signing aboard.
Continued on The Eye of the Sea part 2
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
In crowded rooms I saw you but feared to say hello,
So I never invited you round for tea, instead I just wallow,
In this life without love, I know not of what I have lost,
And each slightest sun beam cripples in the nightly frost,
Twisted branches hug me, creeping over lumbered limbs
that know my smell, long for my touch and tangle in my sins,
I am desperate to break free from the blackened bark,
And rid me of this sombre paint, my colourless birthmark,
I long to smell the salty breaths of the wild and violet ocean,
But instead I numbly follow each life-long learnt emotion,
But frothy waves desert me,
And these twisted branches hurt me,
Though they say they love me dearly, they pierce into my sullen skin.
When I first met you love, I didn’t know what to think,
I’d been on stormy tides for years and I balanced on the brink,
I know not of what I am my love as I float with you beside,
And I know not of what I will now become on these tempest tides,
To take the risk of having you is to leave known loneliness,
But in this cloistered room my breaths unwillingly confess,
Your flowers bud from rotting wood in calm sporadic delight,
And blossom amongst dewy moss against a sunless fight,
Maybe we can share a brew my dear, a steamy cup of love,
“Please do not shy away from me”, sweetly sings your mourning dove,
But blooming orchids scare me,
And the roses thorns cling to me,
Though I long for your touch my love, I am nothing without my kin.
You say you have always known me love, as though you were always there,
Like you were always at the breakfast table and I always had a chair,
You’ve bought me out of darkness dear, without shadows I cannot hide,
I feel you watching me as I sleep, from my one lamped, one booked bedside,
You’re with me in my dreams my love but not keeping tears at bay,
But now when glassy eyes run deep I’m no longer in the clay,
There will be times when I desert you and leave your loving hold,
But know I’ll always think of you until I am grey and old,
I promise to always love you love and I’ll always be home for tea,
And I thank you love for loving me though at times I’ve wanted to flee,
Now caring words they warm me,
And growing forests holds me,
Though we are new born friends my love, just now I love you love, yes always.
American madness, a fury unbound,
A lost nation teeters beyond solid ground.
We've crossed the stark line, flags droop low and still,
The hour grows late; has reason lost its will?
I walk as a stranger in this fractured land,
Where those I believed would lend a saving hand
Have turned, it seems, their faces from the light.
This country I knew now vanishes from sight.
A nation of shadows, where darkness takes hold,
Insanity whispers, a story untold.
Madness now drives us, a train off the track,
Into a dark future, there's no turning back.
This is not the haven of justice and truth,
The land of my dreams, the promise of youth.
Fury for the masses, a bitter refrain,
This broken landscape is a source of such pain.
Not this the country where voices are chained,
Where autonomy falters and freedom is profaned.
Beneath the sway of a ranting command,
A hollowed-out future slips through trembling hands.
Perhaps the time calls for a fierce, bold ascent,
But now, only tears mark this moment's lament.
My national spirit, ripped cruelly apart,
Fury for this madness that shatters my heart.
This desolate land, where hope finds no root,
No soil to nurture, no life to bear fruit.
Yet in this despair, a fierce ember may glow,
A future ignited from seeds of this woe.
Black masses at midnight, a nation astray,
Fury for the lost, who have stumbled and strayed.
A nation unmoored in a fevered, dark dream.
Much like a fragile figure, weak and frail,
Whose trembling limbs can barely keep their hold,
Here at our guarded, sunless walls, grown cold,
A shrieking woman with a snuffed-out trail
Of light extinguished whispers a sad tale,
A Foe of Strangers. From her listless hand.
No welcome sunshine; her harsh gaze can't withstand
The bridge-linked harbor where grim cities wail.
"Hold, selfish shores, your meager scraps!" she moans...
With bitter tongue. "Keep all your strong, your frail,
Your joyful throngs who freely make their own
Bright destinies upon your favored vale."
Reject these weak, by gentle breezes blown
Away from me on steam & iron rail...
Turn away your tired, your poor
Fury for the huddled mass beside a silver stream.
Feeling the nation unmoored...
Written: May 13, 2025, for contest by Robert James Liguori
*******************
On the golden steed, dreams catch flight,
In the sunny flame, rings of final sigh ignite.
A pale horse and rider fit through the haze,
Echoes of silence amid the shadow maze.
A raven melody on the burial ground,
Listen to the spooky melody where souls abound.
No sights emerge from Earth's frigid embrace,
Wind slashes across ashes in an endless chase.
However, haunting tunes excite my soul,
Your voice is an echo, drawing me whole.
Beyond life's veil, we interact with grace,
With God on our side, age shields its face.
I trek into the freezing mist in quest of light,
Mourning darkness hugs humanity tight.
Sunless days drag back dreams of the dead,
Demons sans souls laugh in mindless stead.
Focus on the raven call and pray for Earth's life,
Must humans explain everything for throe strife
Find a wayward child and follow the wild north,
Fear the black raven and adhere to the wise forth.
He spent an obedient portion of his life on Earth,
Dancing to the sound of the elderly man's mirth.
The dread felt by those who bear an oath,
In the text, he authored the screenplay for loath.
Be honest and ask them the right requests,
An outcry for liberation, a prayer for a life quest.
Despite the events, lives have come to a halt,
Ended before it started when the crowd exalt.
I hear all waking dads crying as a crow flies distort,
Life of the firstborn of mankind will be cut short.
Cruelly facing risk is the panacea for each dilemma,
As we hold in nonviolence, some are clear to edema.
Every man's heart from the dawn of time,
Having to live with seduction and crime.
Ascending in the valley of demise, shadow,
Knowing that I will bear my final air arrow.
Embrace the Valley of Death with dignity,
Despite the effects, we will act with divinity.
Join me as I lead you into the depths of death,
Yield me your soul and I will sip my last breath.
O, be honest and ask them the right requests,
An outcry for liberation, a prayer for a life quest.
Despite the events, lives have come to a halt
Ended before it started when the crowd exalt.
As I searched the calm sunless afternoon sky- looking for the humming aeroplane;
piercing the layers of patch sky under the fie-
shade of undense orange sapling,
as the effulge plane became fainter-
the hum louder; and the pale trail less unseen;
my eyes and mind kept on searching the- colourless layers of patch clouds; untiring;
before a melancholy bird started in trance a- voluptuous song not far from my height
as she caught my gaze she became afraid- unstable, of even the echo of passing air;
but she didn't flew away, stretching her feathers- clunging the tiny branches in might,
undermining the large unknown evil in me that- even me wasn't aware, which is not fair,
I think with her size, and luster brown colour she- might be from the families of doves
In retrospecting forgotten past, she was inventer- of French kiss; body clung intimate;
as I picked a bolder to cause her harm, I saw her- feets adorn with glib of cut-off reeds
I think she had patiently walk the lather of- insidious love, and now becoming a parent,
in three days when I remembered her; I checked- for she had beautifully woven her nest;
she laid two pale-white colour eggs, and-
whenever I passed, she laid serenely on her eggs,
each time I sat under the tranquil shade of my- sapling orange; she watched me in haste,
till one painfully cloudy afternoon when rainstorm- came, and overpowered her experience
I was away watching Manchester, and Arsenal- play, coming home I meet her wet in farness;
exhaustion, and cold added to her despair as she- watched me picking her eggs on the floor,
I embroided her nest carefully; under the haze of- cold; medleying her stale reeds in freshness;
placing the crack undamage egg in company of- the merge damage shell; as my tears flow,
I ponderously watch as she came some feets to- her nest taking it maybe as derision travesty
she gaze longer at her broken eggs; timid to laid- on them, as we watch ourselves in sterility
without knowing what the other was thinking-
then she flew faintly high onto sky as rain jades
next morning I found her coldly dead, rigidly beside my stool under the sapling orange shades.
On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great excitement under a star-studded sky at night.
With the crew so hospitable, there was overwhelming warmth and conviviality.
Wine and liquor flowed down through gullets; tasty cuisines were served.
On the deck couples and lovers waltzed, a sweet breeze kissing their cheeks.
But tragedy loomed large in the form of an iceberg, unobserved.
I sat away from the crowd enjoying the rising gaiety.
What was the deafening sound I heard from near?
With a violent shake, the huge leviathan turned to one side.
Hardly knew what was happening, but sensed death was not far.
Hit hard n' ripped into two pieces, the vessel began sinking into the waters.
Amid euphonic melody and revelry, some didn’t know what was happening.
Some in panic ran helter skelter with growls and groans renting the air.
A man gave away his lifeboat to a mother and child, his own life abandoning.
It was a moment I witnessed the beauty of selfless love.
I was inspired to give away my lifeboat that I secured by chance.
A divine spark hit me, and all anxieties vanished instantly.
Sudden was the transmutation, I saw the whole scene in a new stance.
Heaven’s fire was lit in my breast and in love, my spirit began to glow,
How great it is to give life to someone who needed it more.
I heard the angel’s voices flit, saw a new door opening wide.
Had a fleeting vision of the heavenly hall with aureate roof and glazed floor.
I knew all my agony depart and hope instantly sparking.
With God on my side, I felt sinking into the icy depth,
My mind was calm with an unusual courage filling my every nerve,
And my horizon growing bigger and enlarging into uncommon width.
My inaudible parting words were “Goodbye Titanic, fare thee well,
In the oceanic depths, you stay as a symbol of world’s fleeting glory,
Making men think that fate can shatter and pulverize human hubris.
In the sunless Atlantic lair, lie down ageless to tell your allegorical story"!
Where sunless river weeps and waves into the deep
Please awake me not as I sleep very charmed sleep.
Have many a names in different cultures world over
Boann, Anqet, Mujaji, talaya, Lelawala, & Tsoninar
Native American know me as Lelawala goddess of rain
My father married me off to a king as I was fair maiden
But my true love was He-No, the god of great thunder
Lurking in cave under *Horseshoe Falls of Niagara water.
Paddling a canoe on the Falls, was swept off the Falls
Luckily He-No caught me while falling down the Falls.
Here happily I and He-No live in the caves of Niagara
That’s my story and now is time for me to get to action.
Watch me on my favorite horse Backahasten or Ashrays
Falling from the great heights clinging to dewy softness
Lo! My grasp gives way and feel free to fall through air
My brothers and He-No with me I no longer have fear.
The sun peeks out above, the rays pierce from top to toe
Amazed to see an array of colors forming the rainbow
My flight continues on, the wind moves me side by side
Wait no more to find what lies as I complete this ride.
The earth is near and the air feels warmer all around
I dance from leaf to leaf and fall softly to the ground
Hand in hand with buddy drops glide the wet terrain
A mighty stream I am now and no more a drop of rain.
* I have placed a picture of the Horseshoe Falls, The American side of Niagara
on my blog photos. You can also see Picture poem on this link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qI9fMJt1--
I visited the Falls in June, 2000
==================================
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth place win in:
Contest: Rain, the story sponsored by Constance La France
==================================
*Lelawala, rain goddess in Native American legend,
Boann – goddess of the River Boyne in Irish mythology
Anqet- was originally a water goddess from Sudan
Mujaji - South African rain goddess
Talaya- is a Canaanite Rain-Goddess, the dew or rain personified
Tsovinar - the Armenian goddess of sea and rain
Bäckahästen - means brook horse; this was the name of a mythological
horse in Scandinavian folklore
Ashrays – Scottish mythology - Horse
Maybe we should embrace our own ends
As we would a lover
Who We rejected for too long
With her wild eyes.
Both will be too eager to see you.
One as a killer
And the other?
And the other?
The promise of spending nights in the emergency room
Will always be kept
Stuck watching silent tv sets.
Everyone listens for the nurse’s call.
The life that comes
After midnight
Wakes
flowers
Like orchids
Which bloom under moonlight
**** into the sunless waiting room
Which leads
Into the deserts of sexless sleep
with dry dreams
at its end
or as an applause.
2
Most of us would rather disappear
Into the movies
That only show retrospectives
where destiny will always ride
Unarmed
Though some of us wish he would pull
A hidden sword.
This would be preferable to
Say finding a letter tapped to your door
From some desperate friend
Who found a natural home in Bellevue
Or the bottom of the Hudson.
“come over at once”
No one around here waits too long
For you so don’t take too long
To visit.
You see,
some of us look
To escape ourselves
And all our true loves by
Surrendering to the IR
To reach the gray ocean
With waters that are
Always cold
But never freezes.
Such moves require perfect timing
The dictates of the clock
Which I find too demanding
For me to find
The right words
To put on the page
Without risking absurdity.
Are you going to scratch at the
heavy metal door
“screaming
let me in?”
These films are all that is left
now
that innocent’s green dreams
born of our childhood
has been recalled.
Experience is
After all
a fetishist’s garden.
Where the vines reach for your gentiles
(As punishment
Born of Jewish or Catholic guilt)
With the sensation
Of pleasures burning
Some bitter afternoon that no one asked for.
Those are the hours when we lay around
In unmade beds designed for
something dead
and forgotten
but holier than guru Mi’s ********,
where my mattress absorbs more sweat than ideas
of a future that comes from the point of a gun.
There’s beauty in the midnight feathers of a black swan so divine,
as euphoria illuminates s t a i n e d sanctuaries~
where stars long to drown in your still train of thoughts,
for there’s a p o e m ruffling through lakes of ancient runes,
too d a r k for the blind who refuse to see beyond color,
amidst the swirl of sorcery… emanating magical wavelets of strength,
to stand out in a world of dwelling dullness..
Remember, life goes on, with or without
the veil of validation..
You’re more than a silhouette on a blank page….
I see through those scratched windows
of your sunless eyes,
where manipulative monsters
make a foolish king out of your soul,
whilst morals of yesterday’s
drown in poisoned puddles
of contaminated cruelty.
Yet we still hope celestial roots of eden
would sprout through barren grains of time,
as hostile hands weave paper petunias,
to color them in shades of shallow shadows,
which glimmer amongst salmon skies,
enveloped in airy blue lace.
Perhaps, a touch of an empath may
reawaken the light of life that has been
dimmed within the fogs
of your narcissistic ego.
Or maybe there will never be a release
nor a remedy to relieve your
lethal fangs clutching my breathless lungs,
constantly feeding me infected fruits on the
furnace of malevolent magnanimity.
But, I’m no longer the naive target that
falls victim to every shimmering knife you throw,
aiming to blind me with your crystal color coated trickeries.
So take all your weapons wielded
of manipulative mantras~
forged from the hells of insecurities.
I am not the mistress meant only to move
in motions of your designed gravity.
I am earth and fire,
more than skeleton and scent.
I am stronger than every storm I’ve sailed through,
when sinister seas screamed in angst.
One day you’ll realize my kindness
was never a weak vessel to be misused~
whenever your greediness finds the need to
steal wings for your own malicious delight.