Long Touchstone Poems
Long Touchstone Poems. Below are the most popular long Touchstone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Touchstone poems by poem length and keyword.
HEALING RUNES
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Of all the stones that are stately mesmerizing
None can heal like my combined, energized hues
How through my iridescent rock I work wonders abating
Stress and strife clear muddy clouds of hardened blues,
Take my carnelian streaks, they are life’s reverberations…
Opening a shut and confused heart,
Nestle me on your lower spine, I’ll balance bodily vibrations
While making all your dark moods depart.
And since your heavy load weighs while walking
Through tranquil oaks; I have seen your view,
My moss agate upon your chest will come rolling
Upon your verdant slope, fresh forest calm rises true…
Like a rune that balances your chakras realigning
Please know this scared chunk can cleanse the scene;
Here are my jasper ringlets, no other gem can be pacifying…
Small or ridged, this is the power of my pink, yellow, green
Through ancient rites, my jewel is rarest, glistening
An ageless touchstone made also from malachite,
A leafy inner vein that restores deep spiritual calming
This shape rustling on snowflakes and splendor of sunlight…
That now, I gaze into ponds of your eyes bent while kneeling
My sphere of aura circles around bases of energy ‘s sheen
And know , no other gem or stone can help with healing…
Then take me in peace, your soul’s clear- quartz crystal beam.
© 2011 reserved
*Chakras: the major centers of spiritual power in the human body
and are circles of energy which balance the vortex of life
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For: Catie Lindsey
GEMS
Ghostly frail figure,
that I am now,
neath nebulous moon,
where I shed tears,
on brambled verge,
as thin bones quake,
emaciated earthly being,
whose nocturnal solace,
bereft of suave signage,
with a deathly sickness,
icily immune to healing,
taut threadbare skeletons,
prone to clinical diagnosis,
never fugitive in closet,
nor courtroom strict sanction,
cordoned off camera setting,
where splurge of guilty scruple,
in atonement an utter ruse,
yet musings mercurial lurk,
as the net of darkness threatens,
indignant isolate me stranded,
whilst casting mirrorlike,
reflections shed under veil,
of midnight mosaic,
on my mishap strewn life,
due to brittle bony,
fragmented awkwardness,
that wreaked wild havoc,
with long term intimate bonds,
commonly entailing excess,
swing by to overflowing wards,
I eschew self-pity, period,
so vain and vacuous,
alien and anathema,
barren rattle cerebral
sqeamish stream of,
inlaid tract,
rumination razor-sharp,
from emaciated mortal,
whose stealthy lurch,
is frame vulnerable,
torrid touchstone,
as skeleton key,
gaining ingress to,
stubborn locked doors,
syndrome blight,
hailed as,
lean skinny shell,
resignation rare,
stoic coexistence,
copper-fastens
Eight long decades I’ve taken
To know this life’s touchstone like truth:
Man loves to live anywhere
But at life’s battle-hardened booth.
Yea, we scarce want to be
Where life for reason has brought us,
And wishing to migrate
There, there to fish for no cause.
Old age, as is inevitable,
As it brings me to brood,
And mind being unstable,
Ambles back to my childhood,
Which, without the least of doubt,
One of the pleasant most,
Though not always sugarcane sweet
That be chewed till void of its boast.
I recall still when I was there—
A child in flesh and blood and mood,
Not an apparition of thought,
My thoughts centred oft on adulthood.
Today I wonder, not just childhood,
Life’s every stage is such a swell time,
Which, when one gets older feels good,
But mind meanders, reason nor rhyme.
Not at life’s battle-hardened booth…
It’s taken me eight long decades
To know this life’s touchstone like truth:
Leaving all jewels, man chases jades.
__________________________
Musings | 06.05.2026 | age, birth/brood, childhood, old, quatrain
All I did was blink
and suddenly frail and forgetful
had stolen the vibrancy
I’d taken for granted.
Your look still bears that familiar smile
which sparks an ebbing life
and brightens dimming eyes.
But when you think
no one’s watching,
I am…
as this consumptive malaise
pervades your sagging face
and spirits you off for poppy naps,
the flickering star-light fades,
I watch your mouth turn down
In that soft dreamtime curve
and my heart cries the river
that floats you on eddies
of timeless sleep
I know a day will come
our connection will be broken
your star gaze will not return
and I’ll cry a new empty ocean.
But until then,
in sleep’s folded caress
a slow river runs calm,
its watery fingers polish
the unforgettable shine
on the touchstone
of my love,
hoping its undying spark
reawakens you.
Written: August 27, 2023
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Let a divine fire smolder in my soul.
Ignite the depths; lead me to feel whole.
A touchstone to strike, to set ablaze
Burning away the dross in a fiery craze.
My being, once poor and dark,
Now burns as an incandescent spark.
Surrounded by the holiest of haloes,
A flame that only devotion shows
Oh, let my soul be iridescent.
In a rippling flow of melody, ever-present.
Soaring to the dark sky—I ascend,
A countless crowd of stars—my quest wend
Even after my glimmers die out,
My light will linger, without a doubt.
The veil of darkness lifts from my eyes.
Revealing the blessed light will not disguise
With your blessings, my searing pangs,
Transform into a pious light that hangs,
Upward, toward the heavens above,
A testament to your boundless love.
Allow angels' fire to burn up my soul and clutch
A flame that burns with a sacred touch.
Igniting the core, purging all that's impure,
Leaving behind a spirit that's mature
Let this fire be a sparkle of hope.
My guide through life's turns and slopes
As I navigate the shadows and the strife,
Let this fire be the guiding light in my life.
Let this fire be a source of inspiration.
A catalyst for transformation.
Let it ignite a fire within my heart.
To create, to love, and to play my carte.
Let this fire be a force that sets my spirit free.
To explore, to grow, and to be all that I can be.
Let it burn brightly; let it blaze.
As I embrace the challenges life lays.
sawed-off on the
crimson emerald from a cloudy sky
squeal
and, at times, the reason
low-slung why
sparkles of a pearly salver
modicum of encrusted damask mist
befuddles me
albeit
moon, amber, and opalescence
spawn a charming sight
the perspective
strikes each crevice of the flesh.
and psyche advise
shrouded in a cinereous cloud
hapless and helpless, a glum-blue wolf
growls out a bluesy bemoan.
creating a lacuna
of gallivant love touchstone
leaden wails of anguish
rhythmic echoed refrain
plainchants of auric yearning
reminiscent of challah
aiming for eleemosynary seeds
cahoots to germinate and thrive
2nd place contest winner
Written: March 20, 2023
A Strand No 1201 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
When we see a baby’s smile…what is it we actually see?
Is it their beauty, their trust in us…their innocence, their joy, their purity?
Do we see happiness, satisfaction, peace and serenity?
Do we see comfort, virtue, delight…do we see love and harmony?
Or, perhaps that baby’s sunny smile… is a little more than what it seems…
Perhaps we see the shadow of our hopes…a reflection our dreams.
Perhaps their smile is there to remind us who we were…
when life was comfortable…when we were trusting, innocent and pure.
Perhaps that smile is a touchstone…a chance for us to see
who we have become…and wonder…is this the person I want to be.
A chance to revel in the moment…happy we’ve come so far….
satisfied with our life, our loves, our choices…and exactly who we are…
And if we’re not…a chance to do something about it….a time to rearrange…
A baby’s smile is an innocent way of showing is…it’s not to late to change.
A reminder it is our job…our duty…as members of the human race….
to do our very best…to put a smile on every baby’s face.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
I need you to try
and understand together,
why plates are crashing.
And hair is being pulled
out in clumps.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
From Mum and Dad
I have learned to fight.
I need to fight with you.
Because you are smaller
than our two big brothers.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
We are at boarding school now.
I love you, but my jealously
makes me want to hurt you.
so, when there are screams
on your first night....
I pretend that's normal.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
I realise at last
how much you love me.
And I want to love you back.
Also, I am getting married now,
and need a beautiful bridesmaid.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
We need each other
more than ever,
to see us through
this scary place
called marriage.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
I know what you
have lived through.
More than the children
you suffered so much for.
"Stay alive for my sake!"
I love you! I love you!!
I am your mother.
I am your sister.
I am your best friend.
I am your touchstone.
I see the light
that shines in you
while others are blind.
In seventies, bare seventeen you look,
To me, forever in your teen you look.
Just one more year and all ready to wed,
One, ever playing youthful bin, you look.
Wallowing in youthful wealth, scarce without,
Of happiness and content, queen you look.
Secret? Fate nor fortune comes in your way,
Work as worship can be seen in your look.
Sweet touch of breeze, and wetness mischievous,
Life’s golden touchstone, yen and yin you look.
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Ghazal | 07.02.2026 | humour, life, wife
Note: Humorous ghazals are often known as Hazal.
To keep one’s better half in good humour is half the battle won, they say. Now at this late age if the rest of it is lost it matters little, I hope.
Just a girl child, just a woman.
After all's said or done - a human
running through open mind fields
patched with white wheat yield.
Seeds sown groan-grown
piecemeal pockets among throngs
of lilies leaping up in colour song
acapella red, blue, orange, pink
white, yellow - genes garbled ink
across a fertile landscape thrown.
Solomon's glory dethroned.
Symmetry of beauty and form
reflection repeats patterns torn
straight out of tangled bloodlines -
ancestral kaleidoscope redefines
her story as she turns stones
over in a search for the unknown
undistilled divine. Pretty pigments
pile on palette, ready for the brush
with life and death's indifferent
strokes. Will her touchstone crush
Springtime fractals fresh new green?
Old patterns mirror reversion - silkscreen
repeats on new fabric, and paper sheets
are tailor made paper boat fleets
for furious fight and fragile flight.
Sins of the father float her form downstream,
Times gorge rips apart her heart upstream.
Rock hard walls bounce back sing-song
lament and lullaby echoes out of sight...
Today's throes can't dent the past long gone.
Polyphonic sounds stream her away
in rhythmic rituals from day to day...
Hope will not fade to whispers feather light,
further on in future's distant sight.
In sunrise sky life flies up proud-
Her heart echo beats in time, are loud.
Doves and Eagles, lowly or great in their own just right,
know no fear of unknown depths or unknown heights.
Airfields are heaven high above, or on earth below...
Wingtips merely move over heads of wheat,
While lily leaves are sunshields in the heat.
Aqua Marine. Just Musing.
Posted 3rd November 2024.