Long Swirling Poems
Long Swirling Poems. Below are the most popular long Swirling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swirling poems by poem length and keyword.
the ornate gate is ... rusty
and burnt orange & burgundy leaves
are whirling- swirling- dancing-
among the rows & rows of ... headstones
the one I seek is waiting ...
always waiting- for "the rose" I will leave ...
_________________________
March 07, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/always waiting
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1437-091-07
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Bite Size Poem, No. 39
sponsor, Line Gauthier, Judged 03/15/2022
Submitted to the Premier contest, A Brian Strand 1090
sponsor, Brain Strand, Judged 03/17/2022
First Place
I was feeling restless and empty
And I was feeling low.
All I believed was a white paper
An ordinary pen did do.
I wanted to put a question, there
To ask first - who are you?
Fathomless emotions, eager to converse
Should I assess -are you true?
I know there is much research
Hypothetical truth; hot and valid
Seeking the inner child, facing a challenge
Asking for yourself - true and candid.
I could never hold a dead body
And, I could never treat, I would say.
Too pampered a soul inside me
Life doesn’t often happen as I may.
All I wanted to see a rose petal
swirling alone in the heavy wind.
A visitor of the grace of the time
A witness of the reason and hint.
I understand,
Each time you held our little hands,
How lucky we were and yet,
Such moments that glow midst the hearts swirling core,
Are the easiest to forget.
I understand,
When you wrapped us in blankets,so tight.
Rocking us patiently, deep in the night,
Knowing that someday you wouldn't be there,
The sad, silent witness of our nightly prayers.
I understand,
Every Christmas,snowed cold on your pride,
For the tinsel and toys that you couldn't provide.
Unscathed by deprival, in ignorance, blessed,
We learned Dickens and Yeats and loved Busby and Best.
In grief, at last, I understand,
You'd never hold MY children's hands,
But through times passage, comfort brings,
To know they sleep 'neath Angels wings.
Come, come and find me in my solitude
You shall see the hidden facet of this girl so prude
You shall see the real me
The wild side which I keep repressed for the sake of societal civility
Pray, the real me is sensual
Yes, the real me relishes the physical, the carnal
The real me thrives there where there is feminine freedom
Freedom, exquisite and intense without ever fearing of being fallen!
The real me is broken
Yes, the real me is lost in a mirage
A mirage which would never be put into usage
A mirage which caused my heart to be sunken
The real me, then, is empty
Devoid of emotions for the lot of humanity
Even if I do keep writing of philanthropic poetry
Why, the real me is void, too busy swirling in emotional misery
The real me is a half human girl with magical powers
The real me can fly, can turn into mythical creatures
The real me can even bid life to go as she does will
The real me is good in mystery and skilled as well!
The real me is so orthodox,
To the extent of celebrating purity
To the extent of denigrating the loss of morality
The real me hates that which causes one to be sinful!
The real me relishes the mystery of life
The real me thirsts for death
For the real me is bent on faith
Faith which promises of other realms, of that God, bold and handsome!
The real me yearns for more of mystical love
Yes, for love which can transgress Earth and the celestials
The real me is and shall remain a mystery for humankind
For eons and eons to come!
The real me, then, is a solo Queen
Soft, sensitive, gentle and at times, so mean
The real me can hurt and kill for that which I believe in
The real me, though, abides by Truth!
Why, the real me is who I am in my solitude
The real me is deep and wild, so different from the side so prude
That I do show to the world
Yes, the real me is always in ecstasy with my own being!
The real me is complex and complicated
The real me is two faced, two sided
The real me is hard to be demystified
The real me, though, is, for the sake of being!
A brain locked into a world of letters and numbers
Concentrating on every meaning
Seeing nothing but what is before it
The mind wanders
Leaving the brain
It floats away, looking back
Seeing a face without emotion
Just pure logical thought
It drifts away
Looking for a sandy beach
A beautiful woman lying on smooth black sand
The setting sun shining warm on her skin
Beads of water glistening in the amber glow
There is a smile
Lips red, moist and inviting
Blowing the sweetest of kisses
The mind moves close enough to hear her breath
Swirling, twisting fantasies dance around
In the distance a bell rings
The sun fades
The beach is swept away
The kissing lips turn into nothingness
The phone rings again and a woman’s voice screams
Loud and piercing
Nearly painful…too painful to bear
“What time are you going to be home?’
Again the brain for all its structure
The mind with its freedom
Become one
And life goes on.
Whispers in the blue bonnets, merging with the evening breeze
Blowing cottonwood on currents cooled by nights approach
Whispers in the leaves as they dance across the rye grass
Swirling, dipping to the music of an early spring.
Whispers of angels past, who once played here
Chasing sunbeams as they fade into the shadows
Laughter scarcely heard in the rustle of the branches
Angels frolicking in the cedars; chasing bygone dreams.
Children once graced this field of clovers,
Rainbow shorts and ribbon pony tails
Chasing fireflies, with jars for lanterns
Shouting catch me, if you can.
Vacant fields where joy had once resounded
Empty lots with empty swings
Now just whispers in our memories
Murmurs unearthed in baby angel sighs.
kevy the big red male kangaroo
impressed the girls with a manly woo
out to set hearts on fire
wore his best bushie attire
as he blew on his didgeridoo
wally the hairy nosed wombat
was very hairy, round and fat
waddled when he walked
loudly screeched when he talked
and friends with a nosy numbat
kerry the cuddly koala bear
sat in a tree just to eat and stare
saw the swirling-coloured lights
a feral hippies delight
so-how much can a koala, bare?
kelly the laughing kookaburra
though she was grown up and matura
made a lot of ha ha
with gary the galah
in their gum tree home near mildura
emily is a fast running emu
her funny strangeness just grew and grew
amongst all the bushland folk
subject of many a joke
when her feathers started turning blue
.....................
Jan 26 is Australia Day-to all Aussies, happy Oz day
The Legend of the Smukin’ Mokey
“Once upon a time far, far away,” said my annoying brother, “there lived a Smunkin’ Mokey.”
“He is a magical Smunkin’ Mokey, and when ever your 9th birthday draws near,
The little Smunkin’ Mokey wearing a cap and swirling tassel will appear,
He claps cymbals and sits on your shoulder,
That’s just what happens when you get older,
Sometimes he wears a little velvet coat,
Sometimes he screeches and has a smoke,
He lets the ashes fall on your shoulder,
That’s just what happens when you get older,
So--- don’t be so stinkin’ happy it’s your birthday!” said my annoying brother,
“Because soon too you will know the legend of the Smukin’ Mokey.”
“Ah phooey!” said I. “That’s a bunch of hokey! There is no such thing as a Smukin’ Mokey!”
Or is there?
I open the door with my flashing smiles
Uncertain feeling is tripping inside
How will I describe the feeling of nix?
Don’t know anyone like a stranger in land bliss.
So I get to know faces that I never met before
But I just don’t know how to get affairs so real close
I can’t stop thinking how I portray myself
Should I be a star dazzling in dark days?
It’s weird to feel to be on this spotlight
All eyes are swirling like a magical cap
Is this a game of forever that I have to deal with?
To be a strangely incredible in a reality show?
Then I remember what the worth of this light is
To see the path of my dreamy desire
I know it takes bunch of pains to be on my space
But I’m confident to see myself high one of these days.
“When passion creates the lyric of life to sing together,
the entrancing spell doesn’t end for love is magical.” – By Poet
The southern breeze ripples in spring ambiance,
enthralled, I see you sprint like a fairy
in the shimmer of the flushing meadow,
your disheveled hair swirling softly on your face.
The ebony lattice of lilting grace designed
on the blushing face that enlivens
with my wispy caress as I morph into a flying petal,
as love makes a magical spell for me.
You glisten in the golden gleam of twilight,
your smile configures the ethereal charisma
with the slices of silver lined cloud,
shining on the leitmotif of my yearning.
When in the avid wind of longing
you fly beguiled like a butterfly,
I become a flower to get the waft of fleeting wings,
as love makes a magical spell for me.
My amorous window opens wide
on the fervent facade of your fascinating charm,
I see you dance to the rhythm of rapture,
embracing me with an enchanting trance.
I then turn into a leaf of the tree I nurtured,
delighted it falls and quivers,
lying awhile on your luscious lips,
as love makes a magical spell for me.
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March 18, 2023
Word chosen : Magic
Contest : Writing Challenge - "M" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France