Long Swifter Poems

Long Swifter Poems. Below are the most popular long Swifter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swifter poems by poem length and keyword.


Sundered

A woman's love, so soft and enveloping,
the dearest balm, the cherished bond;
fruitless for so long I searched,
for affection and companionship;
and she was the answer in the dark.

My heart returned, my purpose reborn,
I was the finished man;
my pursuit complete, I could rest in her light -
happy upon her smile,
joyful upon her laugh,
blessed to gaze into her eyes.

But earthly heaven cannot long last,
nor hardship be appeased;
one cannot remain ensorcelled by the angels
and hope to escape unscathed.

The fire dimmed, the light receded,
and only suffering glowed;
the loneliness now cast down upon me
a greater burden than ever before -
greater than I've proven able to bear. 

All memories of her, of the way she was,
the things and feelings she caused,
linger, taunting and tormenting;
every one a portal, a mirror to our past -
vivid as the day they were upon me.

The memory of when my eyes first fell upon her
instantly, swifter than even thought allows,
hurtles me back, brings everything to my mind;
I recall my nervousness, the magic,
her elegance.

I stumble to the window and stare out
upon the spot where we first kissed,
out in the pouring rain;
I watch, again and again, as my life passes me by.
I watch as the whole world crumbles
to dust and ash, forgotten remnants
of a love gone awry.

My cheeks stain, yet once more,
with those carriers of grief and mourning
that trace their way out of my trembling eyes;
their tracks forever stain my cheeks,
their sorrow forever stains my soul.

I fear the faint, far-off sounds of movement,
not wanting to be seen;
but nay, I think, let them chance upon me,
and see the depths where I now dwell;
let them see me for who I am.
For I am become sundered.

I wipe the teardrops off the floor;
I stare into my own eyes, in a mirror,
and I don't recognize the being within;
I take a sharp breath and wonder,
ever, will it ever end.


Sea Rose

Saw it floating translucent on sea swells ~
extraneous sight in a sedulous life
and yet, implicit hints forever dwelled…

Rising inadvertently, the wavy strife ~

Of what current is this tale’s exposition?
Such draconian love flowed from mother ~
Every facet a fraught inquisition!

Swift, her passions swept further a father…	

Entered:- swifter waters would swoop away
at speeds where nutrients were inadequate
Racing till pink efflorescence was gray...

O’er oceans frothing of worth diddly-squat

So she goes          drifting in the liquid sweep 
Evanescing doppelganger of love’s weep/reap ~

(9/12/21 - '91 Carver 638 DMS)
art
Form: Sonnet

The Royal Heroine

ROYAL HEROINE

A pure damsel
of noble borne
with her crown
unseen,resting upon
her noble brow.

Though in thoughts 
and gaze was
something entirely
different, the libration 
of her own clan.

So to arms
she chooses, sword in 
hand, shield on the 
other,bow and arrows 
lie still in her back, as 
she bears the wrath 
of a decade slavery.

She was seen
under the cover 
of darkness
leaping the vallies and 
climbing hills.

The heaven burst 
open
in torrent of tears
mourning those yet to 
die by her blazing 
sword.

Furry burns brightly in 
her eyes,ignated like 
the olympic lamp, her 
feet were swifter 
than galloping horses 
charging into battle.

She was a mere 
shadow,yet cutting 
deep into flesh, 
separating bones 
from marrows, 
slaying thousands by 
her arrow.

She gave death news 
to their foes
and increased their 
woes,she made them 
taste the cold steel 
with which she 
bought freedom.

The sun rises and the 
chirping song and 
heavenly taste of 
liberty 
echoes forth from 
broken chains of 
slavery bounds.
Form: ABC

Premium Member While you try to become the best version of yourself

While you try to become the best version of yourself,
Insecurity infiltrates, an unbeaten foe that embraces confidence,
And you list potential falls before even stepping onto the open road.
Every deed is stitched with the thread of this somber foreboding.
Yet, if you know how each scar quietly whispers to you its own tale,
A story of how much it bled, how much pain there was when it was still a fresh wound.
And which bold paths you have taken toward healing, what battles you had to fight.
It's not easy to step out of the frame of your comfort, from your arches of safety.
But when the stars align, they conspire as if yearning to show you a universe
Where you are meant to shine – accept everything with grace, let chance follow its course.
For if you don't, the print of regrets will be one that will never fade.
To receive the stars and the threads of fate, even when they are entwined,
Even when fears seem swifter than your choices.
Gather all your scars, each a mark placed on the map of your own galaxy.
Leave from yourself a beacon, a lighthouse deep in the unknown to which you inevitably head.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member An Historic Event

How is the valiant fallen
on the mountain?
Swifter than eagles 
stronger than lions
the arm of Rome fallen 
to cunning.
Give me back my legions 
Quinctilius Varus!
Had you been diligent,
as you are with denarius,
strategically planning 
the battle
you might have uncovered
the heart of the barbarian
and Rome would not have fallen 
to Germania.
Tell it not at the gathering 
Senatus
weep not at the forum 
via Appia
lest the enemy glut!

First Place Winner: William Kekaula-A Historic Event- 9/24/20

9AD battle of Teutoburg. Ambushed by the Germans Varus lost three Roman Legions.
Form: Lyric


The Red Train, to the north pole of course



To The North Pole Of Course  (Part Two)  
 
The farmlands, bridges and countrysides woosh by in a rush 
then vanish before my eyes at a hundred and twenty six miles per hour.
 My mind is traveling at the speed of Donner and Blitzen.  It goes through a magical hourglass only to nestle inside a cinnamon scented wagon that is infused with the clanking of fine china cups.  A peppery scent of hot chocolate perfumes the air and lands on my palate, sweetly.   
While I am being ushered forth into Christmas, I sift through time, backpedaling swifter than Santa's mistletoe kiss. 
I hear his rippling laughter and melt like butter.  

My extra sensory perception picks up the echoes through the halls of my memory
and I say to myself, " I think I'm going home, to the North Pole of course."
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Impressions From a Stone Skipped On Water

He grabbed me up from where I lay, peaceful in the sun, 
with my brothers and my sisters round about me. 
I felt four digits seeming to be one of a whole, 
which clasped around my form. 
A fifth one, slightly broader, pressed onto me from my other side. 
And then with a jolt, I found myself next lifted high into air, 
the dry hot bed beneath me but a whisper of my past.

Accustomed, at the most, to being trodden upon, 
I barely had the time to assimilate this rare experience 
(I seemed to remember a sweeter touch long ago 
from a smaller being who had picked me up, 
examined me and then placed me back on the ground).  
Suddenly, I was moving, this time unsupported, through the air.

I spied in a single spinning moment 
a world I’d not envisioned from the spot on earth 
I'd shared with pebble siblings. 
In that place, we were surrounded 
by greenery that blocked our view 
and by giant old gray boulders, my ancestors perhaps.  
Reposing heavily as if attached to land,
 one such silent sentry supported him, 
the creature who had flung me far from my home.

I found myself then bump, bump, bumping along, 
making little rings across a shiny stretch of blue.  
And when I lost momentum, 
I disappeared beneath the final circle I’d created.  
It felt much like the times I had been buried in cold whiteness, 
but this instead was liquid cool!  
I dropped down and down, 
onto a different kind of ground, unusually soft and sticky,
 the way earth used to feel for me after a sudden  downpour.  

Settled there, I noticed brown and silver shapes 
that flitted past above me, much smaller 
than many of the creatures of the land above me, but swifter.
Also there were tall green blades that swayed in place.
They resembled those that stood on solid ground.  
Best of all, I saw around me others of my kind; 
a multitude of us, small, beautiful and round, 
with whom to share my soft new cozy bed!

Premium Member The Last Chapter

Through the gap between the closed drapes
A maid peers in a daze
An ashtray upon the table
Held her undiffused gaze

Clearly there was bright red lipstick
Circles upon some butts
A golden earring lies close by
Lying cheat drives her nuts

The fog lifted revealing all 
Airline ticket back home
A scoundrel, cheater, liar, creep
In the night he does roam

A teardrop fell upon the floor
As the click opened lock  
He slept peacefully this last night
Gun shots silenced by the clock

An airline ticket now possessed
Swifter than that jet plane
Around the block to catch the same
Click, clack the sound mundane

Last chapter typed upon white sheets
The typewriter now still
Headlines plastered across front page
Lovers in motel were killed

Sponsor: Giorgio AV
Contest: Structured Forms
Author: Sara Kendrick
Written: December 6, 2014
This is written in a type of Poulter's Measure
Actually each stanza is two fourteen syllable couplets
but broken down into 8,6,8,6 with the rhymes on the 6
Some lines might be a little off..
Form: Rhyme

Punctured Potter

there was a punctured potter
whose wills strained shuffled shudders
meagre muds moistened massive moans
dark traces drooled, gaunt glows

hoisted zeal hankered hampers:
eerie efforts pruned pulpy pesters
lanky labour leered, futility feigned lame
crushed contractions, callous confetti's crave

damp death drilled his plague
sumptuous suck, nosy nectar's crest
potter birthed a son,a generation then another son
whilst masticated malady mimicked, poring pawns

the keener he carved a shape,
soaring swifter contractors come for claims.
      '20:05:21:17:26

Note: of punctured potter.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Treasures of the Spider

Thursday, April 26, 2001 12:47:49 AM

Treasures of the Spider

Spider!
Beware of 
the night feeder.
Tiny bat wings, swifter,
than the absence
of light, silent, merciless
terror. 

By morning,
I survey the remnants
of your web, rent and empty
 of you, just tiny whispers
of your once, existence.

Your uneaten prey,
all neatly wrapped 
and dangling-
as a reminder
of all 
that we
can't take to heaven

Suzanne Delaney

Written for a  Golden Orb spider I 
named Spideress.
See note - ScientificName: Nephila maculata

The golden orb weavers are one of the largest spiders. Their webs can be found hanging off sign posts, in or between trees and can even be spotted driving 100 km/h in a vehicle. The females can measure up to 45 mm while the smaller males measure only 6 mm. The male is often found in the web of his girl friend. Beside the male and the female boarders resides in the web. They are called quicksilver, dewdrop or droplet spider because their silvery body shines like drops of water in the sun.

Their webs stretch to a diameter of one meter between  trees. It is easy to accidentally walk straight into one as they sit in the middle of their web.
It belongs to the golden orb weaver family, which is why its silk is yellow, and this silk is the strongest of any spider. Sometimes small birds or bats get caught in it

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