Long Tassel Poems
Long Tassel Poems. Below are the most popular long Tassel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tassel poems by poem length and keyword.
Grasp my hand, and your heart shall trail,
Autumn drapes her scarf of flame o'er the trees sublime.
Beneath our canopy of stars, we shall render each tale,
In the hue of love, forever and for always, beyond the rhyme.
The world wanes to silence as your fingers touch mine,
The autumn's fiery tassel gilds the woodland's breast.
In the waltz of rustling leaves, our spirits entwine,
On a canvas of eternity, our sentiments come to rest.
In this grand tapestry where the firebrick leaves descend,
Your pulse dances with mine to the breeze's soft serenade.
Underneath the celestial roof, where the universe extends,
We etch our chronicle in love's undying shades.
Echoes of past summers whisper through the dwindling light,
As sepia-toned memories drift like the gentle fall of dusk.
Our joined hands compose a sonnet against the coming night,
With each heartbeat inscribing love's undaunted trust.
As the branches bow with the weight of the autumn's treasure,
Our shared moments piece an opus that time cannot sever.
Our life a masterpiece painted in strokes beyond measure,
In the gallery of the stars, our love hangs, steadfast forever.
For in the quiet company of the impending winter's chill,
Where the trees stand as sentinels in the fading warmth of day,
Our clasped hands forge dreams that the cold cannot still,
In the endless mural of our affection, we are the eternal ballet.
Serenaded by the crunch of leaves underfoot so crisp and sere,
And the soothing hush that overcomes the sleeping land,
We trace the skein of our existence, clear and free of fear,
A requiem for the summer, with the brushstrokes of our hands.
So catch my hand, and with it, take these whispers of the heart,
As autumn crowns herself in garnet, and the boughs in pyre glow.
Our love, a masterpiece, in the gallery of the firmament to start,
Painting every second in love's perpetual ember's show.
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?
~MyTOPIA~
A sip of tea in my Magic Cup.
A fancy bowl for my little pup.
Faraway from a world corrupt.
I found reason and meaning to reconstruct.
By day I live under the perfect sun.
I relive a life where unhappiness~ is undone.
From the time I opened this door my life slowly begun.
I unlocked the purpose that unites us* all as one*
By night I isolate my dreams in my log cabin.
A pillow case made of, worry free feeling of satin.
My harmony keeps me from thoughts so devil-in.
My moon shines in the river with beautiful waves of medieval Latin.
My island based entirely on reason, of insanity hassle.
A sweet paradise entwined by the meshed flower tassel.
My own fantasy surrounded by a flawless pharrell castle.
Governed by my own golden state temple Utopian idea vassal.
by;p.d.
Gift and passion are pearls caught up in a riptide of sadness.
An aurora of blue and green.
Can you make it past the dream breakers
over the reef and back onto shore.
Nobody embraces those that live on the tassel.
Hard to embrace something spinning at the speed of the masses.
How long can you live on the rim of a volcano
before the spirit catches fire and collapses.
Gift and passion
a pearl caught up in a riptide of sadness.
At the end of the day,
You just wanted acceptance and love from THEM.
But to THEM you were only prey.
I can tell you this
I would have loved you anyway in any form....
The 90-proof charm.
The string of rubies on your wrist
A soul branded in a variety of blue.
I'd take it all in. Give it haven.
Even the scorpions that jumped your turnstile brain.
Riding free in your heart vein.
Gift and passion
A pearl caught in a riptide of sadness.
If we ever crossed paths, we would have become fast friends.
Two old souls sharing the last drop of whisky
and a bowl of sweet Panama red.
I would have gently teased the blue and green
from your soul.
We would have made love between full moons
of gilded leather and pinkish lace.
In the frothy aftermath
I would have told you exactly how I felt.
It would come easy because it would have been
exactly what you lived to hear.
It wasn't meant to be.
We were conceived on a different breeze.
You quickly hit your stride, then crashed, breathing your last...on the eve of your prime...
While I was graduating from the swings and sandboxes,
stride for stride with sundial time...
~ can I help you?
"... I'm looking for
a good fire..."
~ do you require
a crackle in one?
it dawned on
the DongKey
that a hotkee
was a tease
who pleased
a long time love ago
and she
"...loves a long time..."
but only when
time is right
you'll know
~ tugs a bow
what color of light
asked the merchant
giving his mule a stare
she wasn't quite sure
how his mullet
was to fair
near the kind
of fire that she
has to ware
his request was
... difficult
so she became
in sync to think
in the thick of it
a quick assault
on the fabric
he was in and
the assessment
returned as
determined
it had a rub
in his eyes real thin
is what she saw...
~ please do
come again
was all she could say
"... drop n' strip
my collars red!...."
she obliges ripe
and did where he lead
describing it right
yet not giving in
to his need...
~ I have much to do
I'll be back to you
in a while indeed
"...Rocinante!
it's time we leave!
the merchant is busy
with much to weave!"
his pride untied
she could see it
hair undone
with it's
color unfit
for that knight
nothing more
she could do
for in this
was a knot to be
a naughty time...
~ he'll come to see
"knygt erraunte"
she could hear
him say as he
and his donkey
made way...
"... green..."
she scribbles
for an order
of thread
one thousand one
for the embers bed...
he wants a girdle
the color of red...
and a rope to pull
his mule...
a tassel for his teir
by the time of Yule...
~ The Merchant
made a note of it here
shes ahead of the game
~ and he returns a year
Form:
I'm bald and have piss-yellow teeth; don't use balm or whiteners to appear young again.
Every scar is a jagged path to a novella called living.
Cursed and blessed with a good heart,
Wild horse temperament that's bucked most riders off.
Loyal to the few who've stuck it out,
through all the ups and downs.
I could blow out of here at any time
, but for now everything's just fine.
I've crash-landed on a cay of calm.
Quite proud that I've made it this far.
More than halfway to a hell, oft mistaken as a star,
At times slipping into the murky waters of mundane,
Just another battered face rooting through a discount bin.
Always on the fringe of a spinning tassel of contentment.
Everywhere there are mounds of glitter glued to plastic bags.
Covering up the dry rot-I've no interest in any of that.
Shocking I can pull it together at a funeral, but not when I'm putting down a pet-
I want to be a whirling dust devil outside this hollow town.
Not inside the plastic masks of all the dead-hearted clowns.
Streaming like the rain outside
The windscreen wipers working like
My heart and chopping onions stuff
A testament to will the good of another
The kids are in the back and can't see what's going on
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling in the driving seat
I think of my wife and when we first met
She was always running late
As I was shoegazing on the corner
I needed a parrot sidekick
High on Belgian waffles and coffee
A hip new sensibility
The dash cam records the journey
Join me on my magic carpet
Grant me three wishes
Give me some tassel
In the Maghreb
I'll be your magic lamp
In order to reveal myself
Let's pick out curtains
Bang spectrum of Confetti start the celebration!
Rosy majorettes clad in brick red whistle thrice,
Golden tassel batons toss and fly, greets sky!
Her comrade increase the feat heat synchronization,
Thunder cheers flood alongside adding spice.
Beginning their flamboyant rhythm and blues sound
Are black and white drum and bugle epic vibrations.
Come in well coordinated act: all nice
Loud gigantic flowered covered floats in slow motion
Meatball, the big brown bear, pop and arise,
''Catching the Big one'', orange fish rolls down,
Sweet fragrance of roses afloat around.
Yellow haired boy from ''Sea of Surprises'', drown the frown.
Tempted eyes, ears, nose and feet in joyous heights!
(c)Olive Eloisa
11:45pm
June 26, 2014
Originally entitled: COLOURS for the contest Colours of Shadow Hamilton placed 4th.. :)
Note: Inspired by "Tournament of Roses Parade". During New Year's Time, me and my mom views this telecasted tournament.. :) I love the creativity and the great imagination of the rose float creators..:D!!! This is held annually in California, USA sponsored by Honda. How wonderful it is if this seen live.. :)! On my readings, each year there is a theme to inspire the creators. The first ever theme was about Patriotism, this year: "Dreams come True" and next year: "Inspiring Stories".
Little black pearl
Formed from city grit.
Pressurized by violence.
Layers of scars-a survivor.
There were no birds or trees.
Only concrete eggs in broken nests.
Harsh decades under moonlit gunplay.
Never time for a young mind to rest.
So hard escaping from dark, ugly caves.
Finally, you've arrived, rolling into the light.
Not a mirage but something of a miracle.
At the very top of your class, nobody held your hand.
Tassel merrily dancing to the left of a black pearl face.
Smiling a shade beyond bright.
For the moment, color is insignificant.
There's still much work to be done.
Many more hurdles-mostly unseen.
Battles lost, and battles won.
But nothing that you can't overcome.
Wearing bright feathers of a dream.
Little Black Pearl
A Wordsmith’s pen
Is mightier than the sword
For he can turn a tricky word
Into a verbal weapon
And win the day against the hoard
The words of the Bard
It’s not very hard
The turn of a friendly card
The changing of the old guard
The wicked witch is feathered and tarred
The sky above is dark and starred
It’s feeling out loud
The dancing of spirit abounds
The singing of the soul
The mind and body are whole
Although sometimes it makes no sounds
Manifestations of mental visions
Put to paper by steward, or vassal
On cotton, leather or papyrus passel
Seeing illusions and derisions
Inside the book, the bookmark’s tassel
Of words and dreams, and fantasies
Muses and fancies
Blissful and blithe
Demons and monsters, and zombies alive
Somehow the dead come back to life
Shadows and shades of torment
Ghouls and ghosts, and wraiths
Humans tear at their at the clothes and lament
And prophets forecast and forebode advent
Fortune tellers and soothsayers say
The mind screaming in pain
Devotion and emotion
Evolution and convolution
The sane are temporarily insane
The brain suffers erosion
To purify what has been defiled
Or deride what is pretentious
Celebrate what is momentous
Of the humors; blood and bile
Are both infectious
Soul speak
Affirmation of thought and deed
The lookers seek
All of those who have a need
Reap of the sown seed
Strong encourage the weak
Travels in time and place
Exploring inner and outer space
The Children of the Is
Sing the songs that were once His
Though the Old Man’s dead and gone
His legacy lives on
From dusk ‘till dawn
Memories in tome eternal
Glimpses of Heaven
Thoughts of Hades infernal
Rolling sevens and elevens
Immortal mortals
Of a limited time
Speaking in riddles and rhymes
This poem a babbling run-on thing
Pondering, wandering and wondering
A beautiful mind
It should be dismantled and dismembered
Fuses blown, circuits fried, wires unwind
The Dancing divine
When remembered…