Long Swelters Poems
Long Swelters Poems. Below are the most popular long Swelters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swelters poems by poem length and keyword.
When summer sizzles energy fizzles
you can fry an egg on the sidewalk
New York city cooks like a griddle
it's too hot to make small talk
there's a place I know where you can find me
it don't cost a dime come on up and join me
when midday swelters pavement's melting
yellow taxi cabs gasp for breath
it's so hot my brain feels like popping
even my shadow starts to sweat
if the Jersey Shore's not your scene
can't take the crowds come on up and join me
got my sounds got my shades
got my cooler got it made
I could use a little help with my suntan lotion
so tell me who needs an ocean
up on Tar Beach overlooking city streets
Tar Beach leave your cares below
if you want to beat the heat
Tar Beach NYC is where we you an' me
Tar Beach is where we can go
Fading photographs are strewn across alabaster tabletops,
drenched in moonlight streaming through rustling curtains.
Snow owls call out to each other through the whistling wind,
as flakes of snow dust
frostbit grass outside crystallized windows.
A roaring fireplace crackles in the corner,
and I sit back upon an oaken rocking chair,
tracing my fingertips over delicate memories,
transported back to harmonious
days and carefree nights.
Your silhouette appears, drenched
in glorious sunlight.
Summer emerges like
a breath of fresh air,
as luscious ivy crawls up
wrought iron fences,
and onyx roses bloom within the gaps.
Your golden voice calls out to me.
A single teardrop slides down
the warmth of my cheek.
It’s been so many years since
I heard that angelic sound,
smelled the aromatic vanilla
permeating from your silken skin,
and fell into your tender embrace.
My blood swelters under your touch.
I whisper, “I’ve been so lost without you.”
“Can I not stay here with you like this forever?”
You whisper back,
One day, my love, for it’s not your time yet.”
And within the blink of an eye,
an icy chill races up my spine,
snapping me back to harsh reality,
to a world so frigid without you—
forever tracing memories until
I can finally take my final breath.
The old wood framed home stood stark and abandoned, a
shell of herself, where now new homes were standing..
Rotted roped windows wept with the rains and rattled and
trembled with each passing train..
The once solid foundation now unmoored by silt causing the
aged house to lean, a precarious tilt..
Yet inside her ancient bones still chiseled and grand with her
high molded ceilings and oak floor plans.
For over a hundred years she was home, haven, shelter, thru
cold winter storms and hot summer swelters.
Many years had passed and her families moved on.
She stands out of place where she once so belonged.
Saffron sunbeam swelters and sway.
Vividly scattering its burgeoning brightness.
Aurora is splendid, the dawning on our day
Awarding us admiration, now till darkness.
Magical orchid exudes a calm garden.
Autumn-loving meadow bird warden.
Roses of sorrow willow petals fall to Earth.
Shadowy blackbird spirit seeking worth.
Butterflies are haunted by their essence
Destiny, svelte and elusive existence.
I asked her name, as she sang "Amazing Grace".
She labeled this somehow "Serendipity Grace."
"Ah, well, it sounds very zealous and mellifluous.
Please, beautiful angel, keep playing audacious.
Written: October 24, 2022
Cicadas drone their sun-drunk, tireless hymn
as July swelters, gold and overfull.
the driveway steams, the plastic buckets brim,
and heat, like dye, won't sit still or stay dull.
We cinch the cotton tight in twisted rings,
as if a knot could hold the blazing tide.
but sweat and color are unruly things:
both spread, both stain, both won't be denied.
Cerulean and crimson breach their line,
seep into one another, slow, unplanned,
and thicken into a hue with no design,
no name the rubber bands prepared it for.
The soda ash unlatches what was sealed;
the color doesn't sit, it moves in deep,
past cotton's threshold, till it's not revealed
but lived in, permanent as things we keep.
So heat unstitches winter's careful fold,
loosens what was buttoned, cinched, and pressed,
and turns the plain, repeated days to gold
the way a fever turns a body's rest.
Unwind the bands. Let August find the proof:
a swirl no ruler's hand could have designed,
the driveway's stain, the sun-bleached, faded roof
of summer, fixed now in the changed mind.
We lie together, you there,
me here.
I reach for you and you, melting into your pillow,
pull away
turning slowly, your message
is clear,
there is nothing, just emotional disarray.
Under the darkening sky I whisper
to you,
the words but an echo in the fading
light.
I listen to the clock tick, our lives
askew.
The dysphonic sound echos our plight.
The more I love you, the less
you care.
My passion swelters, my anger
flares,
but with melting indifference, you just
lie there
as the hole in my heart continually tears.
Your love a landscape of stark
indifference
as time melts slow into
the night.
Me, I'm lost, somewhere out in the
distance,
and you, just out of frame, hide in plain sight,
...as time melts slow into the fading light.
05/07/16
Based on Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Memory"
August is ending with a heat that gives no mercy to the land or man
so intense that the air swelters off the river into the tree tops,
looking ahead, its as if we are passing through the gossamer of summer's spector,
Private Shanon has been missing for six days
although, we believe he is lost, not captured or deserted
only God knows where his feet have taken him,
evidence along the riverbank indicates that he is alive and pursuing us
perhaps mistaken and disoriented, thinking that we are further up river,
Old Dorion is seeking him now like a clever wolf,
Shanon was seperated from me while stalking a coyote
a most mischievous animal that is entirely foriegn to us except in prank,
a bottle of whiskey goes to the first man who can lay a coyote down,
yesterday half of the expedition went hunting the prarie dog
a critter more cunning than a cat and jumpy as a log spark,
after several hours of scrambling around like lunatics
Private Sheilds has finally caught one with pork bait and a twig basket
the poor rascal squieks like a cheap violin,
eventually I will send it to Washington with other novel specimens,
President Jefferson and the Philosophical Society will be good guardians,
the men and I have been refreshing ourselves on the jewels of soil
the wild grapes are so succulent that the Italians would believe
Bacchus himself had seeded this earth with a secret serum
and the plum groves cuddled in the most unadulterated coves
invite the mind into Eden's shadow,
on this journey we have observed migrations of pigeons
that have rivaled the stretch of storm clouds,
crowds of squirrels so numerous they have canvassed the ground with a sea of fur,
and now the mighty, mythical buffalo walks before us
a legend amongst beasts, monstrous in girth
with hooves that peel the Plains and horns shaped by vengeance,
as they graze we seize the prize of their offering with thanks in our aim,
not having horses strategic concealment is critical, they are reknown for retaliation,
we dropped seven of them in a great pandemonium of panic
the gun smoke, field dust and perspiration meld into a fragrance of sacrifice,
our sustenance is secured, their lives feed our future,
J.A.B.
Fall Of Autumn
The deep south, confused summer, autumn's blight,
Nature's microwave is on overdrive,
Dog day noons, sultry dusk undress the night,
Escapist schemes, routes north relief, connive.
Red Indian drumbeats as Fall swelters,
Mirage, sweaty heads host an oasis,
Sane in A/C cars, dash in cool shelters,
Heat holds life, pause Winters' death, the basis.
Latter is solace, fire sparks energy,
Pains of the past, remedies in their youth,
Melts the built, curls their hair, sums synergy,
Drab purple dawn the horizon, cold truth.
Gasps of frost taunt the raw vexing season's,
Soft made tough, green ripens, Fall sets reasons.
2019 October 05
*3rd Place*
Autumn sonnet
~~John Hamilton
The pungence of heartbreak swelters
in the tangled dreadlocks of love-lies-bleeding
Take me somewhere exotic
to breathe not the foul aroma
of disappointment and despair
Show me fields laced with frangipani and orchids
in colors sweet and light as daydreams
Find me seafoam fields poppied
with pomegranate and honey
opium of jasmine lilting on a leeward drowse
delicious sift of sand drifting
warm and soft between my toes
as coral breezes court flamingo scapes
with pina colada suns
and I drift in and out of hibiscus euphoria
Let a mist of cockatoos flutter
in lapis skies puffed with fat feather clouds
parrots and toucans preening
like a rainbow shimmer
Tingle my pineapple senses
through the afterglow of mango afternoons
Create visions of paradise
in the cerulean of hyacinth
and never bring me back