Long Tameless Poems
Long Tameless Poems. Below are the most popular long Tameless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tameless poems by poem length and keyword.
With brazen might and courage strong
A sword is raised the widow’s song
What right has man to undermine
The artists gift’s still standing strong
A lover’s song in midnight oil
Abuse my mind begins to coil
Great Picasso tameless strong
Why must thoughts be sometimes wrong
The storm of undermining dreams
The pain of less defining screams
A broken heart takes time to mend
Our words can be a weapons friend
Green fingernails
She stares into the night
A thinker thinking in her plight
They fought instead of having fun
He broke his lovers loving sun
And now she stares the thinker see’s
The statues of the times gone past
The thinker thinks and so does she
Then locked in pain
She was not free.
Picasso played the torment song
Dora Maars was hurt by words
Picasso’s lady fingers green
Now stares with thoughts we cannot see
“we look for that light eternal
that does not come and go
the screen upon which life plays
cognised in staid stillness slow” ~ Unseeking Seeker
I flow like silken ripples
through mirrored lakes,
a lotus sprouting from
mountain streams,
soaked in the saffron
warmth of summer’s flare,
jeweled in citrine pearls of purity.
Awaiting galaxies of clarity
to unveil an emerald estuary,
streaming in sizzling serenity,
oblivious to the searing strings
of fickle tethers pulling
this delicate psyche
toward an abyss filled
with superficial scraps,
fragmented dreams,
and empty conch shells,
tearing my fragile skin
with splinters and sea glass,
reflecting the inflated ego
of a wanderer adrift
amidst ferocious tides.
O sacred skies,
adorned with starry scars,
I’ve long searched in vain
through a salt-soaked
cave of confusion
for twirling diamonds
and fragrant fireworks
to grant me an eternal
haven of celestial calligraphy
carved in halcyon ink,
unaware of the silver flecks
sparkling deep within my soul.
Must I forever be lost,
like languid leaves
pressed between chapters
of seasonal souvenirs,
or should I rise like
a mythical bird,
engrossed in golden musings,
a tameless seeker
of zestful zephyrs?
I am softened
streaks of twilight,
breathing ethereal dust,
while dancing to
the swirling silhouettes
above cosmic candles,
illuminating the orchid
orchard of consciousness,
as this heart beats to
the blissful rhythm
of an untouched breeze,
curating magnetic alchemy,
to harmonize inner music
in mellifluous mindfulness.
I am the light that
lights all the lights,
the undying glow
within supernova lanterns.
I am the artist
painting my own paradise,
immersed in topaz tunes
of an Elysian empire,
where divine scriptures
of the Almighty
conduct a choir
of continuous compassion.
So let the gates of your gaze
rest in singing silence,
listen to the unspoken reality,
echoing like tranquil rhymes
within a sonnet etched from
mystical moonbeams,
for between these lines~
floats the lunar wings,
manifesting a rosier awakening,
as my faith is the conqueror
of crystalline constellations,
forever basking in the euphoric glory
of tulsi dawn.
*Image of Horses Nature by Pixabay.
Some Paradise Where Horses Go
"Somewhere, somewhere in time's own space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some paradise where horses go"
~~by Stanley Harrison
Where linger they midst verdant green,
Brung more to this a simple scene,
Placate the calm as horses still,
A light breeze whisk a daffodil,
They frolic and roam when they need,
Rivers and greenfield be their meed,
Tameless breed in their happy realm,
Where their faithful kind steer their helm,
Grazing the countries hills and vales,
An opened book for living tales,
In posing splendor statuesque,
Trail thoughts endeavor picturesque,
Calls of horses in nature pause,
Within its wake of emptied stalls,
Romp free and wild in blithe courses,
A paradise for all horses.
2020 March 07
*3rd Place*
Some Paradise Where Horses Go
~~Michelle Faulkner: Judged 2020 April 20
For some, things in heaven more real,
nothing from earth granted to conceal.
Comrade of the wandering heaven,
scares characters and their impression.
Desires of someone that must be,
compensations tragic here not to see.
Misty morning by prayers waken,
visions of solution gently taken.
Earth circumferential constellation,
Aries rising and fire energies relation.
The spirit tameless, swift and proud,
to the egos will all needs to be bowed.
Spirit fierce and impetuous,
the adrenalin that’s called dangerous.
Will take form from deepest tone,
releasing energies thereon.
Day moon in serene grace disposition,
gentle natures clock submission.
Lack of patience takes virtue to pieces,
giving destiny no real releases.
Tho' bore your fate 'tis artless place you lone
Your girth--your hold freedoms--your claims be more
Restrained your gambled trade choice place bemoan
Shewn thee frankly tho' toughened be your core
Afoot they'd maketh treads besought a door
Shameless their upbringing, relieves doubts--be
Natheless, some uncharted may answer for
Behold yond harbored shoreline midst the sea
Feign thunders crash a cloudless sky--unknown
Truth betold entrenched sanctioned civil war
Upheaval constants the shouldering groan
Once the tameless harmonized--nevermore
Proneness to bonds, centuries tie threescore
Their massiveness afeared--times they're dicey
Questions tumble, fumble forevermore
Behold yond harbored shoreline midst the sea
In distant sights, day or night ... the homegrown
Moonlight silhouette, an uncarved Rushmore
Picture cards, photographs of the well-known
Up, down, right, and left, all around they pour
Kids climb like Zacchaeus, the Sycamore
Still, they'll be a'wondering, what's the key
See how the waves comply, a tidal bore
Behold yond harbored shoreline midst the sea
Matthew eleven, twenty-eighth ... implore
Labored, Heavy Laden, Give Rest ... the key
Waiting ... it madeth here but naught much more
Behold yond harbored shoreline midst the sea
All around me, only darkness
How can I get out of this mess
That which I got into in my consciousness
That which had rendered me tameless
It feels like am drowning
Water, water around me, surrounding
Can’t breathe, can’t talk, its stuffing
I can’t even resort to running or flying
No one can even hear me shouting
Even though my mouth is open and yelling
Out loud, wails of danger and distress
Where is my savior, coming at the help of his Mistress?
Shall I ever see light at the end of the tunnel?
Shall I ever be the carefree damsel?
The one so happy in the comforting security
Of her very own liberty
I still follow
the blinking spells
of the rose wine sunsets
before surging sandstorms,
believing in the euphoric breeze
floating across the
shivering skyline,
echoing vermilion voices,
lost in the limestone grains,
as questions of change
interrogate the empathy
encrypted within
my inhibited intuition,
like spices of kismet flames,
swirling to the fluid fluency
of sentimental keys
in saxophone tunes…
But in the midst of moving monsoons,
I feel the eagle feathers of Zeus
rain upon the crystalline swing,
crooning songs of tameless time~
wrapped in the crescent cocoon
of silent splendor,
as I rise, dressed in steel and silver.
I hear the bluebird dream
in symphonies of the karmic sea,
streaming with specters
of star-struck ghosts…
O majestic marine jewel,
change is a promised ocean.
It’s sprouting coral blues
from reefs of ambergris embers,
awaiting floods of onyx tears
and jagged thistles,
like a tsunami of smeared streaks
reflecting the smoke
and swollen stains of the red sun.
Tonight, I erase the last mistake;
a scribbled imitation
of my aching past,
for I could not veil the scars,
failing to seize the
splitting clusters of
slate and garnets,
burning between
sleepless lakes,
drenched in midnight terrors,
as satanic waves
blur the turquoise surfing
through the limitless twilight.
Yet, I hear the mermaid moon
call my name in magical refrains,
steering my iridescent silhouette
to an ivory shore
where ebony hints of ink
would home the hermit castles,
where you and I can breathe~
as soulmates destined
to draw neon lifelines from
bioluminescent sparkles…
So let the bluebird drift into an orchid dream
where karma is the poet~
draped in deep violet,
writing elegies
to the eclipsed eyes of the red sun
that stole the silk and sage
of summer sighs…
And change is more than just a mere rhyme,
it is the ultimate essence
to rearrange
whimsical words
woven within wind
from honey and gold
of a
dulcet
dawn.