Long Talisman Poems
Long Talisman Poems. Below are the most popular long Talisman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Talisman poems by poem length and keyword.
The dank petrichor of grainy night,
meters stand like gravestones,
the obsidian avenue slick as a sapphire,
windowed granite rising in sharp cut shadows,
wind gusting, tumbleweed clouds somersaulting
in a moonless ghost town.
I jingle keys with atonal sky
and listen to my footsteps on concrete
ticking like a clock.
There are places to be.
I hasten my step as rain drops resume,
one by one mounting into a riotous crowd.
Umbrella-less, I am soon sopping,
hair a wet carpet, suit a gray saturated tarp,
the briefcase and tote onyx boulders.
My car is still a block away,
but eventually I reach it
like a leaf washing down stream.
The tote slips off my shoulder
as I stoop to retrieve fallen keys
lying in a shallow puddle like a shattered talisman.
Suddenly I begin laughing,
dropping everything in the street,
my face skyward, arms splayed like a crucifix.
Now there is no tomorrow,
only the farce of my predicament,
standing like a drowned coyote howling
at the moon as though it would be there forever.
for : Choose a line 2
Sponsor : Joseph May
prompt: “The darkened sky stole my tears”
submission date : 27/5/25
Placed : 4th : multiple
RETURN MY TEARS
The darkened sky stole my tears
soprano crystalline they quickly disappeared
Lucy my name still neat to tweet, though
inner ocean could no longer drip sighs sweet
desert dry goals, set anew, a different stew
He no longer beheld teary dampened hues
charcoal cloud-lips licked tear salt refined
eerie seraphim pointed saffron south where
fears were consternatingly narrowed near
Danube desires for red velvet attire or
focussed cease fires mattered little
life performances madly tearless brittle
it happened during a talisman thunderstorm
this certainly phantom-like for fairy form
soul aches to touch streamlets down rosy
cheeks so charming, petulant part
of story lost, when eyes dam up but
cannot willow weep, sleepless songs seep
to soak satin midnight pillow a disappeared
right in dim bower, choking hours
‘forget sad droplets !’ flowered cupids harkened,
‘Heart scrubbed clear from harlequin waters
your taffeta tears glisten on thistle in
Garden of Eden, closely listen !’
wolf pacified, ‘not to worry, you can voice a howl’
gobi bear beckoned, ‘come prowl with tawny owl
we will hear symphonic larks in operas dark
tea-rose tears are for unopened hearts
stealing kisses or wishes with swishes
eating sumptuous dishes’
sob I wanted to so bad, be singularly sad
feel drips on hands and feet, wash out eyes lubricate lips with self’s own mineralised H2O
enriched emotion to finely comb, then hit Home
Dark sky ! Return my tears ! Hear Soul’s plea
Tears, my liquidised diamonds, an oasis for me
The
imagined force is recast and concentrated into an inorganic
material.
Intentional,
possessing the owner's future with satisfying
charisma.
The
talisman, as some are known to be, is the resulting
changeover.
Better
days lay ahead of the object holders, who will be the subject of good
fortune.
Prehension
of one's life worth and outlook will be exceedingly
awesome.
Blithesome
accesses the favorable
heart.
Impart
the wealth produced, amongst
others.
Effectuators
are doubly loved for that
realization.
Fruition,
when done unnoticeably, is agape
love.
Hereinabove,
the exceptional natures are
emphasized.
Harmonized
beginnings are the effects of the talisman's
aura.
For you, no evanescent love, it'll bud and bloom
Favored plethora by light of many moons
Oh yes, I'll revel in rhapsodic voice of yours
Old cupid will be thrilled; felicity seals this love of ours
With dulcet memories we colored on pages of time
In early light of those, our yesteryear, for love wasn't blind
Radiant rainbow following rain will blush and steer
Recall you've caused my sapphire eyes to twinkle like stars
Tell it in song; arm in arm with Iris, you'll browse idyllic grounds
Together by Eden clear waters, a chrysalis becomes butterfly by your wand
Yes, we'll pledge there, never ever to part
You'll be my talisman, aligned forty times forty years with my heart.
*
In the deep valleys of the spirit, where dreams boil in the overflowing cup of consciousness,
I wander aimlessly, seeking countless treasures not in gold, but in scattered words.
There is no money in poetry, only echoes of emotions woven through the fine threads of time,
Like an ephemeral butterfly, flying over the green fields of my soul.
Where minds open, we touch each other beyond materiality,
Through long verses and blind gazes, we hold hands in unheard universes.
Poems are blossoming oaks in the arid lands of our mercantilism,
Their roots deeply embedded, drawing from unseen springs of suffering and joy.
No one has ever been able to buy the sensation of the first kiss of dawn's light,
Or the melancholic cooling of dusk when stars weave light into darkness.
Words are the world's tear, priceless, falling on the square cheek of paper,
Poetry is the song of birds echoing from the hidden corners of our hearts.
In the desolation of cities of gold and silver, the sounds of bullion break the silence of hope,
But in the quiet of a dimly lit room, poems throb with un-lived life.
The poet is an alchemist of emotion, turning the lead of reality into the gold of imagination,
Not for gain, but for the liberation of the spirit from the prison of mundane daily life.
The feeling of love, worries lost among the night's shadows, worth more than kings' riches,
Each verse is a whispered talisman, kept in the depths of our silence;
There is no money in poetry, but there are infinite universes,
Where words dance freely, released from the venal prisons of the world.
In the stream of consciousness, I pour my heart into endless pages,
Old experiences and forgotten yearnings flow through my pen into a river of stars,
My poems are relics of a bygone time, yet forever alive,
What perishes, what remains, in the collective memory of the soul.
We do not earn gold from metaphors, nor silver from complex rhymes,
But in the magic of words, we find the true treasure that never fades.
Poetry is an ancient spell, an eternal song that binds us to eternity,
And even if there is no money in poetry, there is the immortality of fully lived meaning.
"Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch ,but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same"
(Quote by: Helen Keller)
LOVE, what mystique power, it wields
What bumper dividends it yields
At times, IS LIKE an ache so coy to reveal
Or A BEAUTIFUL urge, hard to conceal
As brilliance to stars, fragrance to a FLOWER
Music to flute or shade to a bower
Love dwells and thrives in heart’s inner shrine
Connecting souls as by magic with a bond divine
Some times, we feel it as a deep sensation
Sprouting in us strong surges of emotion
WHICH enliven every atom of our being
Filtering down from top to bottom, nourishing and healing
I MAY sometimes ignore its fervent call
But will NOT undervalue its merits tall
Oh, Love! Thy virtues I will defend
Though seasons change and youth does end
Love is a magic talisman to TOUCH the heart
Filling the void, never leaving any dearth
It makes the mind go upbeat in prosody
Changing every sensation into a rhapsody
The red red Rose that emanates radiance
Surrounded by thorns, BUT WHOSE FRAGRANCE
Everyone inhales, MAKES THE GARDEN
A PLACE of perennial beauty as one OF Eden,
Love soothes and stills every ache of the heart
Filling it with DELIGHT, propitiating a new start
It is like the cool touch of spray in the horrid heat of noon
Or on a humid day, a splash with friends in the lagoon
Love sublime, JUST like a candle lit
Consumes itself, but keeps on giving light
It dispels THE gloom and cleanses the dirt
Invigorating the soul and healing every hurt
In ups and downs, love remains the SAME
Lighting the world with love should be our aim
It is on the axis of love that the world spins round
Tt is the panacea curing all the ills which surround!
Jan.31. 2021
Brian Strand Contest No.1183 Poetry Contest
Corona
by Michael R. Burch
There was a moment
without the sound of trumpets or a shining light,
but with only silence and darkness and a cool mist
felt more than seen.
I was eighteen,
my heart pounding wildly within me like a fist.
Expectation hung like a cry in the night,
and your eyes shone like the corona of a comet.
There was an instant...
without words, but with a deeper communion,
as clothing first, then inhibitions fell;
liquidly our lips met
—feverish, wet—
forgotten, the tales of heaven and hell,
in the immediacy of our fumbling union...
when the rest of the world became distant.
Then the only light was the moon on the rise,
and the only sound, the communion of sighs.
With all the understandable gloom, doom and despair over the coronavirus, I was reminded of this early poem of mine that used the term "corona" in a much more positive light. I wrote this poem around age 18 and it has been published by Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Webring. Keywords/Tags: Corona, coronavirus, touch, union, communion, sigh, sighs, expectation, unity, trumpets, heart, heartache, pounding, youth, virginity, first love, teen love, romantic love, relationship, sex, sexy, sensual, arousal, union, ecstasy, consummation, consume, consumed, consecration, omen, comet, shooting star, talisman, moonrise, moon rising
In the whirlwind of the wind, my soul also spins unyieldingly,
On watercolor wings, the seasons carry me aloft,
Through wrinkled fantasies, the heart's mistakes shatter,
Waltzing in the whispers of waves, my soul cradles gently.
Under the watchful rain of stars, my dreams drip slowly,
The talisman stained with tulips hides unspoken truths,
Stepping lightly over the threshold of dusk, time is my friend,
I am the sunset, and the silence of saffron storms follows me.
O, you, ruler of minds playing on the edge of dreams,
The empyrean inferno burns around your diamonds,
We feel deep in our bones miracles without mirrors,
Ugly hyacinths melt under the melodious mint of magnolia.
We are but moments dissolved in the silent meditation of evening,
The thread of turmeric love binds us to lemony light,
The neon Nile flows through our intuitive isles, dancing,
Under the moonlight, separated from the watching darkness.
The dazzling luxury calls us to place our trust in it,
Bleeding into the constellations of our higher virtues,
The heavens wonder about the sirens singing forgiveness imperfectly,
The fragrance of forgiveness carries the sailors of nirvana to dawn.
This hummingbird has hushed its beats under the eternal sky,
I am a dialect of dawn, in the scentless sunrise of life,
A patriot of peace, pirouetting in the ephemeral elixirs of time,
Burning auroras pour over the lips of loving angels.
Ex pat Pom loving aplomb & many a flickering F bomb of the OG.. GC at the G
No spin larking bickering barking larrikins clearly hear the din of fans chagrin
The culprits the ex players pundits in their pampered and champered pulpits
I want baggie green spleen to be vent outside the oh so privileged pro tent
Your spectacular curvy vernacular is the quip fillip in times so topsy turvy
Cricket’s pervy badgers nervy starved of nuanced narratives..like Test scurvy
The game increasingly nihilistic your ballistic bants & rants..holistic chants
Sycophantic semantic antic relishing & cherishing your loquacity, audacity..
Bodacity & sagacity…got them by the gizzards with your verbal blizzards..
Rapacity of skits & gambits..tenacity of wits...our own proverbial Oz Wizards..
Coz boys your ploys are the everyman not fancy dan talisman of fan elan….
Joy envoys of odd bod sod the cricketing Gods run roughshod pod masterplan..
Your reffing gift wrapped in effing & jeffing.. a bucolic vitriolic frolic & tonic!
No fibs his nibs is loving the cut of your jibs….this old timer rhymer pondered
Wondered does cricket's ultimate bastard..The GC.. like Lord Kitchener.. need me..
Saluting a highfalutin cultural calling card.. your own Bard as two become three?
A plethora of lights pierce the dark,
as a nightingale’s rhapsodic tune
drowns out a dogs evanescent bark,
neath the talisman of a full moon.
Radiant moonbeams dance on water
gliding sapphire and indigo waves,
as night absorbs black like a blotter
and the bats begin to leave their caves.
A chrysalis holds a butterfly
safe within its idyllic cocoon,
and crystalline dewdrops liquefy,
in the heat of a mid summer's June.
Such a night’s filled with felicity,
Nature proudly exposes Her heart
and like dulcet electricity,
it tingles, knowing you play a part.
The challenge from Silent One was to write a rhyming poem using all ten of the following words:
plethora, evanescent, felicity, rhapsodic, idyllic, dulcet, chrysalis, radiant, sapphire, and talisman.