Long Threads Poems
Long Threads Poems. Below are the most popular long Threads by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Threads poems by poem length and keyword.
Ah, the fortitude of a circle
the circular wisdom
of spring to summer fall to winter
the spinning wheel’s twist of threads -
at once both self-reliant and reliant
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
the mettle it takes for the genesis;
for my poppy pod to wake and break
a tiny speck of matter a fleck of duality unleashed
I surrender my dormancy to the earth -
roots reach deep like pale squiggly fingers
..for my kernel was laid to rest to bustle to life..
while my headstrong head pushes up through the soil
I come to be.. like a new idea taking shape
a physical being grounded
while seeking the realm of the Sun
the source of spirit as essential
as the dark womb from which I emerge
with a heart budding with the universe from nothing
I sprout as a sprig from a rounded grain
conceived in a gold-dusted flurry of furry buzz..
a bumblebee's dalliance with the center of a whorl
a mote of pollen so mite-like -- but
m i g h t y
in purpose potential and power
woven together in the art of creation
wind-driven autumn rains and sips of melted snow
..mother’s milk during the passage of time..
sweetly feeds the gentle needs for my tender birth
daystar’s dabble-dance with shadows
charm the chill from the cradle of the garden floor -
warm ginger dapples flit to find me between
canopy gaps in swish and sway..
mini-spots mirroring the disk of the Sun reminds me;
the image of what I’ll become
when my solar heart shines in a petal-chalice of flame..
rapture stirs the layers of humus
penetrating my essence with a ripening
stoking my fortitude to fulfill my destiny
to break free of that which holds me down
and reach ever higher inspired by a promise;
the golden circle of solace.. the bull's-eye in the sky
whose glow does kiss and grow my soul -
my inner space of bright sure to blaze
in a blossom cup’s confinement
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
sown to assure my flowering
my earthy ascension fulfills Nature’s cycle of nativity;
above the loam I rise to unfurl
and lift my airy leaves’ uncurl up high
in praise of the light
as the end of a gray season curves
into the festive yellow equinox of resurgence
They wear no crown, no armor bright,
Yet rule the day and shape the night.
With whispered words, a gentle sway,
They bend the will and guide the way.
Men boast of thrones, of iron hand,
Commanding all across the land,
But fail to see the softer art—
The power held within the heart.
Through silence deep and knowing glance,
They weave the threads of circumstance.
Pushy, yes, yet not with force,
But with the current’s quiet course.
The world believes men hold the reign,
Yet women pull the strings unseen—
Their bottom power, soft, profound,
In shadows where the truths are found.
And men of feeling, wise and true,
Are threats to this covert rule.
For hearts that see beyond the veil,
Unmask the truths and break the spell.
Beware the gentle hand that leads,
The quiet strength behind the deeds—
In modern wars of mind and soul,
The softest power claims the goal.
h o l d me
when the world w e
e p s
and the wounds w a n e
like frayed
threads of fear,
as I, a gilded frame,
long to mirror your lyrical light,
to be the ethereal echo
tethered to the
warm orbit of you…
while mind unlocks
its secret Milky Way,
as love whispers
in soft cadence,
finding words to
erase learned woes.
O beloved sunrise,
color me in
sighs of silence,
like rhymes of roses,
a vanilla villanelle
etched from
the exquisite essence
of a cosmic consequence,
leading me into
the arms of light,
as the lamented night
bent its empathetic knee
to the seraphic sight
of soul-satisfaction,
whilst pained pulse kept
solar seconds ~
counting constellations
within my chest,
curating confessions
from crestfallen stars,
sewing scars with
sparks of saffron and salmon…
and I ponder ~
is this a diamond dream
spun within
an awakened dawn
of glistening gold,
to home me in the
healed harmony
of your tender heart,
with acrylic
incantations of citrus flame,
as I am luminous layers of
a complex canvas,
aching for compassion,
awake in
e c l i p s e d
stillness,
like the supernova sun
devouring
the silk of its own sky…
yet even in this
aesthetic
fulfillment of
faultless infatuation,
I memorized your meteor showers,
flourishing in the thought
of rising beyond
the demise of despair,
to become the only pattern
across the fabric of faith
in your duvet of damask devotion,
no longer tripping
on temptations,
but
t r a c i n g
the cashmere curves of
reality ~
picturesque portrait
of a
passionate promise, paradise painted
forevermore…
Within her frame, a world is formed,
A heartbeat echoes, soft and warm.
Yet hope is stitched with threads of pain,
A sacred journey, not in vain.
She walks with feet too weary, sore,
Each step a trial, yet she bears more.
Restless nights with fleeting dreams,
Her body stretched at fragile seams.
A sudden craving grips her soul,
For sour fruits, or bitter bowl.
Strange hungers rise without a call,
She longs, she yearns, she wants it all.
Her back bends low, her breath runs thin,
The tide of labor swells within.
She grips the night, she bites the day,
As life prepares to carve its way.
And when the pain breaks like the sea,
Hope crowns her womb with victory.
Her cries give birth to sweetest song,
A mother’s strength, eternal, strong.
The mystique mist
of amorphous ambiguity
shrouds under opaque veil
the penultimate pathway
to the terminal time post
in the cauldron of future,
obscure.
In transient twilight hour
sunset swansong resonates
in the void valley of life,
forlorn,
silhouetted still
against the sunken skyline,
weaving indigo filigree,
melancholic.
Twirling turmoil threads
embroider morbid motif
at the pallid fringe
of passion cloud clumps,
petrified,
surging with sensuous storm
from the onyx horizon,
ornate once with halcyon hues,
rinsing chameleon chimera
ephemeral,
on the yearning canvas
ablaze in cold flame.
From the burnt relic
of memory menagerie
reminiscence ashes
fly away in whirlwind,
unbound.
Splintered shards of hope,
adrift in despondent current
of fluid fervor,
flow in sullen stream
of billion tear drops
in the twilight zone.
The remnant rays
of sublime sunset
shapeshift into strings
of psychic violin,
resonant.
Resurgent orchestra
survives still
behind the fallen curtain,
performs the last symphony
for the lone audience.
The melody of latent concerto
suffuses the listless life
with tuneful echo
of serenading sanguinity,
timeless.
The Big Bang sound vibrates in the universal core,
pulsates in harmony with the concerto of the creator.
The elements of His presence is ingrained in our souls,
interconnected by the common threads of awareness.
Everything crafted drifts in the stream of continuum
that cascades with the music of love in our hearts.
By one universal melodic chord we all are bound,
from one cosmic harp all the prime rhythms ripple.
The heavenly infinite network of unique oneness
encrypts the unifying divine algorithm of our being.
Suffused with unbound flash of the godly galaxy
our souls perceive the universal acuity of divinity.
As the karmic design aligns with the absolute
the pristine petals of the awakened souls unfurl,
blossoming the heavenly flower of love.
In its fragrance floats the grandeur of His grace.
In the sacred sanctum of timeless tranquility,
embraced by the seamless sky of His benevolence,
the liberated souls merge with the devout wholeness,
flies free impelled by the effervescence of salvation.
Threads of life, weave us together, making us one in moments in time.
Threads are like waves, they move together, they blend, they make a wonderful life.
Life is full of moments, filling us with many types of memories, they are connected to our life, they fill us with sweet delight.
Threads of childhood fill our mind, they can come back and make us smile anytime.
Threads of our loved ones make us feel special, they make life filled with a sweet sensation.
Threads of love run through our life, we are blessed for all that love us.
Threads of times that were bad, we try to forget and leave in a box in our mind that we never want to remember.
Threads of times, that were unsure, we are thankful for all the moments we continued on.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
A blithe jaunt through the fawning meadow
Cerebral dance an eloping trance doth swallow
Glinting sun shrouds head with cherubic halo
Swirling amber blades my shorn ankles furrow
Mercurial melange of colorful flowers footsteps shadow
Chortling wind serenades through lisping willow
A chorus of song birds the woody fringes mellow
Suddenly, from green coiffed strands into barren fields
fallow
Bristling thorns, spiny thistles each footstep doth
harrow
Melodic aviary morphs into a shrieking cacophonous
bellow
Soothing breeze warps; its shrill noose exposed neck
gallows
Day's enchanting dream a recurring nightmare doth
follow
Enraptured circuits fade into shrunken recesses of
bleary hollow
Gilded streams of light a dark, vapid hole doth borrow
The enameled threads of nature my tortured conscience
doth sallow
The antediluvian dreamscape a charade to shield
tomorrows
The apocalyptic horror scope to sculpt past sorrows
September 24, 2012
“We are all broken, but sometimes the jagged pieces fit together nicely.”
- Paul Acampora
Jagged scars mar her soul,
She drinks jagged tears,
Jagged pain stains her whole
life throughout the years;
Jagged cries dye her night,
She sings jagged songs,
Jagged thoughts blot her light,
For some peace, she longs;
Jagged dread threads her dreams,
She writes jagged rhymes,
Jagged clouds shroud sunbeams,
These are darkened times...
Jagged hope ropes its way,
She risks jagged smiles,
Jagged love shoves all grey,
She's crossed many miles;
Jagged heart starts to beat,
She's found jagged joy,
Jagged pray'rs bear her feet,
E'en death can't destroy;
Jagged roads strode, she soared,
Now, pens happy songs,
Jagged no more, restored,
To Christ, she belongs.
I am drifting,
held in this earthly realm by fragile threads;
it feels like a weird surreal dream,
until daggers of pain pierce me.
Is that me screaming? I sound so far away,
I know all I need to do is pull on the threads,
so when the next flood of pain comes I let go;
and I am floating free at last,
from all earthly bounds.
In silence and peace I am swirling,
higher and higher in this strange haze;
until I have left the realm of earth,
and all my pain is gone.
_________________________
December 11, 2020
Poetry/Verse/"Held by Fragile Threads"
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1311-297-11
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, It Feels Surreal
sponsor, Nina Parmenter
Sixth Place