Long Swells Poems
Long Swells Poems. Below are the most popular long Swells by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swells poems by poem length and keyword.
Her three tall masts pierce through the gray,
Where swells of sapphire rise and fall;
She rides the deep in grand display,
Answering the high sea's wild, cold call.
Her canvas full, each sail blown tight,
Stretched firm beneath a heavy breeze,
She carves her way with graceful might,
Across the rolling, restless seas.
With rhythmic ease, the waters swell,
And lift her dark frame toward the sky,
While white-capped crests surrounding tell
Of rolling deeps as she glides by.
From high atop the crow’s nest railing,
A lookout spots gray shadows near—
A pod of whales, majestic, sailing
Beside the hull without a fear.
At helm stands Captain Jack, steadfast,
His weathered hand upon the wheel,
Reflecting on her storied past
And every seam of iron and steel.
Born in the fires of sea-bound lore,
Rebuilt from ash, reclaimed from fate,
The Black Pearl haunts the coast once more,
A ghost of legend, proud and great.
I watch it slowly leave
the river and enter the Bay,
its bow parting the calm
with an efficient quiet.
Another hour and the ship
will be cutting through
the swells of the open sea.
Men in orange overalls
lean on railings at the stern
looking back
over a long wake.
I try to imagine what thoughts
are washing across
their minds. Perhaps
it's the menu for that night
or the blurred monotony
of seeing another foreign port
with its cranes and marshalling
yards decompose
into the fading light.
Or more likely the thoughts
of love ones waiting for them
at home.
Seagulls follow them out
and spiral over the ship's
dissolving churn,
dipping down into the water,
lifting up again on wings lit
by the last rays of a setting sun.
There is a sadness
to the sight of departing ships -
it touches something deep
as if calling up the echoes
of ancestors saying their last
goodbyes to sons and daughters,
siblings and the grandchildren
they will never meet.
Agape
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord,
Your intimate whispering fluent through living water
Touching thirsting shores of drought
Waiting open mouthed for billowing water
Flowing from Agape.
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord
To sink into warm depths of your passionate prayers
Your tender path out of grieving exile
Your hopelessly romantic heart
Flowing from Agape
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord
Invading every vein and channel not pierced like arrows
But seeping in through a soothing infusion
Reflecting the sunrise of Heaven
Flowing from Agape
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord
On gentle swells of crystal angelic adoration
In reverence for the healing of the nations
A balm from new leaves scattered tenderly
Flowing from Agape
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord
Near trees nourished by the River of Life
Metaphoric essence of the river’s source
Going down into a gently swirling playful Ludic
Flowing from Agape
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord
To rise up among orange petals of Agape
In your greening open hand Storge love
Abiding tender amity for brothers and sisters
Flowing from Agape
I float in the inspiration of your charity Lord
Gathered neither in timeless vaults of starlit realms
Nor still wandering in dark dusty chaos –
An invitation to be bathed in sparkling splendor
Flowing from Agape
5-11-12 - Contest: Say It Again - Sponsor: William Kekaula
POTD - 5/13/21
Agape: Godly love; Ludic: Playful love; Storg: Familial love
"...and in the end, letting go was a lot like falling in love.
I had to learn to say goodbye to the one who gave me the
courage to say hello."
~ r. m. drake
So very long ago, or so it now seems,
I lost you and every one of our dreams
because you had changed so much inside,
and became a stranger you couldn't hide.
In all the years of loving you
somehow, I think I always knew
we would never make it to the end
but I stayed, trying hard to pretend
that we could save what we once had.
Now it's all gone, the good and sad.
I'm suffering through the healing years
filling an ocean with swells of my tears,
and still I cry; in bitter sorrow they pour
while I wish I didn't love you anymore.
Do you know what you should've said
on any night we lay together in bed?
"I'm sorry that I've made you cry.
Please don't leave. Don't say goodbye.
Tell me it's not too late. I know I'm wrong
and my problem has gone on much too long.
I'll get help, like you ask because I'm to blame.
I don't want to lose you, and I feel ashamed.
I know I turned from you by closing the door
but I promise not to shut you out anymore.
I need you at my side. Please stay with me.
I'll be a better husband, you'll see
because I want to keep you by my side.
Please, tell me your love hasn't died."
Those are the words I longed to hear
and saying them would've kept me near.
The words were in my head, not in your heart.
It was your weakness that tore us apart.
I wanted to see your repentant tears fall.
I pleaded with you and through it all
you didn't say anything I needed to hear.
Your demon held you in the clutches of fear.
You allowed evil to have its beguiling way
as you became more of a stranger each day.
I'll always have regrets, and for you I still long,
but I had to write the last line to our love song.
I tremble each time i remember walking away
and my heart aches for you every day.
Some mornings I wake without you, biting my lip
and wipe my tears away with a fingertip.
You're still within my heart, no matter what I do.
I cannot vanquish the memories of me and you.
Does the Sea
Suffuse...
Does the Sea
Perfuse...
the sponge?
Slipping, sidling
in:
the Great Outbreath
of the far forgot shore;
so small now as to be
Unimaginable,
upwells in swells the
Entirety of this sea -
and heaves these easy seas
from shore to shore
as
sure as the moon’s dim
light is gasped over
when its wax is over -
when full; when only moonlight
lights the matte blacknight.
Does the Sea,
enter, entirely,
the sponge
and, in doing
so
forget itself?
Does the Sea,
in its Perfusion
forget itself?
Does the Sea believe itself to be
a sponge?
Or does the see,
take up a demonym?
Or does the Sea remain the Sea
no matter no matter
no matter how
fully
it inhabits, it saturates, it permeates
the Sponge?
For that matter,
does the sponge,
in being infilled wholly by
the Sea, believe itself to be
The Sea?
And my heart's suddenly skipping a beat
To the tune of his wooden, stringed acoustic
He's always been who I was meant to meet
His words sung, spoken, or written: my music.
My cheeks warm and soften into a smile.
When I am serenaded by him, my heart swells.
His songs make me happy longer than awhile.
Truly he is the one whom in my heart dwells.
And my heart suddenly slows so steadily
As he sensually seduces my body and mind.
His handsomeness makes me give in readily.
His everything all makes him one of a kind.
My whole body and mind sink inward.
He early on became my favourite partner ever.
His lovemaking makes me love being forward.
He is my best, last, dearest ever lover.
I don’t want to walk to the front room
Can I have my dinner on a tray?
I wept inside for he could hardly eat
So thin I thought his backbone might well break
I’ll get you a small table, honeybun
Just a mo, I’ll put the oven on
I want a steak ,he called another day
If he could eat it I would be God’s prey
I can’t chew it, pet, my stomach’s full
The fluid from the blood, I knew it well
The valve is furred, his blood is being pushed back
Fills his inner organs swells and racks
I was almost paralysed and stunned
Putting him to bed was quite a pun
Then he woke up from a little sleep
Spoke to me in words so clear and sweet
You have a personality so bright,
The sun must envy you your brilliant light
After that he scarcely used his words
We did not need to speak, it wa
5/13/26 8:03 pm
A perfect rectangular plot,
spanning nearly an acre,
its borders built from baby-blue planks
etched with soft phrases in looping, hopeful handwriting
the kind of words meant to soothe a trembling animal.
Inside, the world blooms loud.
Greenery swells in every direction,
vivid, bustling, almost holy,
as if Demeter herself had knelt here,
hands deep in the soil, whispering life awake.
Fruits drip with nectar sweet enough to ruin you.
Flowers flash colors stolen from the heavens
pinks, blues, purples, oranges, reds,
every shade that ever dared to exist.
Bees and butterflies circle like worshippers,
desperate to belong to something this gentle.
A path of flat, even stones invites me inward,
each one carved with a word of loving,
as if the garden already knows
I need convincing to stay.
I step into the oasis of color and breath,
birds greeting me with bright, charming song,
the air warm and soothing.
But then,
three steps in,
the chirping halts.
The sun strips itself from the sky.
The sweetness curdles in my throat.
The air turns sour.
The sky bruises dark.
And when I look again, really look,
the garden I trusted bares its claws.
Flowers open with carnivorous intent,
petals peeling back like jaws.
The soil reeks of iron
blood worked into fertilizer.
Roots lurch toward me,
Sensing the shame I thought I hid.
Vines coil tighter when I speak,
hissing like they know my secrets.
The gate slams behind me.
Locks itself.
And suddenly I’m trapped inside the place
I once believed was safe
a garden that now feeds on my regrets,
grows plump on my bloodshed,
thrives on the parts of me I never meant to show.
I am haunted by the realization
that the danger was never outside the fence.
It was always here,
waiting for me to step inside
and call it beautiful.
An ancient mariner in the seamless sea,
I am sailing solemnly for ages
in the radiance of luminous sunshine,
and when the testing tempest rages.
On the azure swells of the rolling waves,
rising sky high and falling abysmal low,
my senile boat pitches, and I struggle
to keep afloat, the journey is slow.
The moonless night descends silently
on the tossing surface of the charcoal sea,
as the sky sinks in the dark horizon,
nothing in the dense obscurity I can see.
But to reach the yonder shore
I know I have to sail long and far,
lost and forlorn in the alien sea
I search for the omnipresent pole star.
I discover in the end the guiding beacon
of the divine star hidden within me,
tracing the course to the final destination,
I am relentlessly trying so long to see.
The wind on the sagging sail is sluggish,
with its helping stream it can no longer blow,
before the boat becomes motionless,
to the land of promise I must go.
YOU are waiting for me at the edge of my time
in the eternal realm of the heavenly shore,
I don’t know why even now
in the tormenting sea I am for.
May 30, 2021
Contest : Open Poetry 5
Sponsor : Charlotte Puddifoot
Written: May 19, 2025, for contest by Edward Ibeh
Quote: "Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself." By Rumi
*********************
As the seacoast swells, I'm the ticking clock,
Medusa’s buds melt wild in cosmic shock.
Too vast to trace the whisper of my touch,
Once shrieking in the gales I loved too much.
Leverage—a lattice of force spun soft in farms,
A catapult kissed from naiads and their charms.
I rise beyond the sigh of earthbound tale,
Folding time in saffron-sage on silence’s trail.
A crown of hours hides loss's jagged edge,
Each tear a fulcrum, each star a silver wedge.
Leverage: the sly magician’s unseen hand,
Lifting fate’s beast with a wand’s command.
Crawling on bone, I trade a dream for a wink,
An alchemist stirs fear in jasmine-gold ink.
Weight turns to promise in twilight’s brief peace—
A cog sonata in a galaxy’s creased crease.
Life glows as ember script, footnoted and odd,
A whispered nudge in thunder, kissed by God.
One key turns inequity into a lyrical code—
Leverage: the hidden root of the common node.
With empathy, patience, and a poet’s dash,
A cracked cup tilts, still spills its splash.
The braid unwinds when a thread is pulled—
And so the days dissolve, and the dark is lulled.
The wrong key turns, but never fits the lock,
A defiant glance becomes a harboring heart’s dock.
A single word, well-timed, redirects the climb,
A fulcrum set beneath the weight of rhyme.
Leverage, not force, moves all without loss,
Find fulcrum in chaos—smile wry at the dross.
Though bent toward stillness, the shift draws near,
Where regret finds voice, resentment clears.
A single seed, pressed into fractured earth,
By unseen hands, the coiled land finds rebirth.
One life uplifted by a lever’s quiet grace,
World seeks levers to lift my breathless space.