Long Trailed Poems
Long Trailed Poems. Below are the most popular long Trailed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trailed poems by poem length and keyword.
The truth was concealed with many branches
Entangled on a trellis of deceit ,
The anger reflecting inked blots on weeds
As I cruised alone through evening’s approach...
To bid his disguise hidden like veiled twigs
Crumbling, withering in this labyrinth
Till the pretense of fidelity glared;
Siphoning a love untrue, root to bough...
How my heart sullen as dusk tumbled on,
Into a maze where a breeze folded its wings,
Its cry echoing my black homily
That in a daze I recalled his footsteps...
Yet, each step I trailed became ashen clay ;
His distorted ploy stirring a flamed rage
Where old leaves fall in the bleak of moonlight.
Lewis Rayne's Contest
Emotional Anger, hurt, rage
Submitted 12/1/2017
July is the month of monsoon rains in our part of the land when there will be incessant downpour and flooding in coastal areas and low lying lands
In the vast expanse up so high,
In the caliginous July night sky,
A lone star trailed along from Heaven’s arch,
And through hindering clouds it did march.
Its lambent rays dancing in gleeful light,
Making everything luminously bright.
All starlets cowered in shame,
Hiding in corners, fearing blame.
It got stationed above a thatched manger,
Where baby Jesus lay swaddled in rags in rainy weather
Promising the gift of love and joy to mankind
Assuring everyone salvation and peace of mind.
The wind that blows is icy chill
Freezing cold is the water of the rill
Trees stand washed in rain
The sky, in greying clouds remain
Lights from nearby houses shine
Sending out a radiance divine
Christmas trees stand finely decorated
Cribs are colourfully illuminated
Stars and festoons can’t be hung in the open,
As in pouring rain, they may be broken.
July is not a month fit for the king to take birth,
Who has come to bless the world with cheery mirth
Yet, the whole land is vibrant with festivity.
The pouring rain hasn’t doused the gaiety.
Sunshine or rain, no matter the weather,
Friends and family are happy together.
Christmas wraps every heart in cheer,
Though it falls in July, the rainy month of the year!
July.11.2022
Christmas in July or July celebration Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Tania Kitchin
A meter off the ground - it was chilling to the bone
and they say high up the degrees drop
In a metal bird with conditioned air
forgotten are dreams of wanting to fly
I closed my eyes - could sleep fast-forward eight months?
we stepped down at the other end of the universe
The Earth was wearing white trees clinging on to green
in the middle of this I stood very blue
the sun turned bleak, gave into cold
all time spaced out last day seemed old
summer had waned - and for ever, it seemed
frosting fell before my eyes, crystallizing tears
salting snow nothing stays pure for long
I was stuck in a snow globe, wishing the white was pixie dust
(you can take home away from a person, you can’t take hope out of them)
They say new years let grow new hope
but withering winds breed fear alone
impatience in its veins and shoulders shaking
a spiritless shadow trailed
* * * * * * *
the ghost of a snowflake
settles on my glove
cold touch of a memory
within the shutters of dusk
as traces of crimson lay hidden
against the ebony skies of night
amethyst and turquoise bursts
exploded above then fell
in splashes of ash
as our eyes met
there were no words
that fell the between us
just sparks as they trailed
like lost stars
the music faded
beneath the strums
of the ocean
and beats of hearts
in rhythmic pulses
where love once lingered
yet you linger
only in memory
a kiss in parting
day old beer and cigarettes
as my lips drew back
we held hands
as we walked
along the splintered path
echoes of laughter
behind our steps
as we walked along
the edges of life
your hands
caress less now
as memory recalls
the strength of your hands
in hues of purple and blue
beneath opaque tears
we no longer walk
together on a path
i walk alone
as echoes
on sidewalks
lash back
in quickened steps
my mind bleeds nightmares
deep within this hidden pain
memory remains
i cast you out
over and
over again
....again
August 20, 2019
Invitation to Play Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sheri Fresonke Harper
i used free verse with some haiku scattered within
Oh, Lord, imbue me with gratitude and zeal.
Much as the red burst trailed the glistening steel.
As a possible sequel, yielding divinely may reveal.
There is no laziness but an apparent ordeal.
What if I could eagerly grasp the spirits for adoring?
Allow me to depict life out of a stance of meaning.
Sustain me to detain a brilliant guide for the amnesty.
And to their ecstatic vision and quenchless docility.
Will the seeds of cognitive empathy sprout in my mind?
Provide me with the heroic virtue of sensitivity, divined.
Sustain me in my prompt walk with God, the all-powerful.
I worship in the tiny shoes of the burdened flowerful.
Do I need to trust my intensity? And gain pride
Some suffer the ill insight of an internal guide.
May the Lord's goodness utterly define my life today?
A true impetus for massively amending wildly way.
I dearly need to be encouraged for forgiveness.
Ostensively allow me to be infused with faithfulness.
I need being for others a wellspring of graciousness.
God, support me to succeed and ensure progress.
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: December 04, 2021
BEATITUDE RHYMING POEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
when light faded out
and darkness descended
when all over me
the icy chill began to creep
I slammed the windows and doors
tightly shut
and like a child crawled
into my padded bed,
while the winter gale
was still raging outside
you broke upon my thought
as a euphonious melody.
when I longed for your warmth,
you knocked upon my feeble heart
as your voice trailed across to me
louder and louder,
I woke up from my languorous sleep
felt snug, the chillness around me, swept away
and a strange desire,
coursed through my nerves
I could feel the heat
of your tumultuous passion
the soft touch
of your caressing hands
the musky odor
of your fragrant breath
the warmth in your almond eyes
you stood before me
as an embodiment of grace
you opened the windows to let in the light
not leaving me grope in blinding darkness
you took me to the seas
of shore less delight
you enlivened every atom of my being
kindled in me the fire
of amorous desire
swept me off my feet
by the inundating tide of love
I felt my sleeping passions
suddenly set ablaze
Alas, with my senses lulled to sleep
leading me into a state of serene calm
through the door ajar,
you faded out like an evanescent dream
leaving me so stupefied....!
Placed First
Feb.20. 2022
Winter Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor- JCB Brul
Feet soiled by the ashes of burnt name
Black as the base of bottomless shame
Carrying on the shoulder murky disdain
You walked your life on the slimy sin.
Despised footprints crushed the ground
Trailed you to disgraced ambiance around
With soul crushed in depth of dark ruin
You walked your life on the slimy sin.
Introspection would light up the mind
Darkness dissolved, you would soon find
Footprints forget in lone remorse within
You walked your life on the slimy sin.
Indicted by the proclaimed self-judgement
Dark identity would collapse in the present
Erased footprints won’t remind you again
You walked your life on the slimy sin.
October, 1, 2017.
_________________________
This piece reflects on the landmark Supreme Court Bench deliberation regarding the petition for the mercy euthanasia of a nurse, a victim deeply wronged by a hospital hand. The verdict on euthanasia ruled that the court may allow passive killing on a case-by-case basis, but active killing remains strictly prohibited. Yet, active euthanasia seems far more kind and humane to the patient, whereas passive killing slowly tortures—proving to be inherently cruel. In this petition, head seems to have triumphed over heart. A life that is no life triumphed over death, and true dignity died.
______________________
Two hallowed heads strived for a legal edge,
Heard the case—but the horse still trailed the cart,
Took time to ponder— head over the heart,
Spirit of law bowed still to letters' rage.
Sympathized with the plea and not yet still:
‘We allow a passive mercy killing,
One active we can't'— the unfair sibling,
And final word shall be Chair's pondered will.
Fair words always are worth a goodly wait,
Wise words take much slower walk to arrive,
A tune many a white-wig love to drive
At, mercy must wait for her date with fate.
Yet, passive killing scarce can be mercy,
It's too cruel, heartless as inhuman,
It adds, rather than allay patient's pain,
Pity, the justice can't quite that way see.
Murder in mind, red handed if one's caught,
Proved and punished, he might hanged be till dead
As our legal revenge that be red-hot,
But mercy killing's sin—murder in bed.
And look at words of wisdom from the Chair:
Her friend cannot closeness to victim claim,
Few visits make no friends, wise words as were,
Poor she, made to carry the cross called blame!
Poor Mercy, in court room ever decried,
Reducing life as breathing of bare breath,
Justice triumphed— life prevailed over death,
Much before she, her dignity had died.
Poor patient condemned— to live bare to bone,
To live what was no life, nor ever death,
While Lady Justice lost had all of faith,
And she in a much maligned state, in twilight zone,
______________________________
Happenings | 04.03.2011 |
Note: One may read also, ‘And the death lingers (11.02.2011) ', Mercy Killing: Ethics Or Economics (02.04.2011), and Gentle unto death (02.10.2008).
Samuel Woodruff was a very old man, who once drummed for the army;
That marched to his rhythmic music, along with all fifers, playing hearty.
That was a lifetime ago, in dawn days so pink, golden, and richly green;
Like petal strewn time moving backward, to the premiere, pivotal scene.
Samuel never stopped playing drums, like mulberry heartbeats of sunset,
And played them after his daily walks; like the love you will never forget.
His fast friend, Comet, followed him, through fields of fascination flowers;
As he made up ditties to match the beat, of the flaming, futuristic hours.
Of faithful family, Sam had none, but for his fond, faddish sister, Pauline;
Who felt every fandangle pulse of summer, like allure on the silver screen.
Sam lived in the house of memories, of past and present changing places;
Where often rolling thunder was noted, like apricot roses, in cream vases.
Starlight snuck in windows, on a street that never seemed to say goodbye;
As sophisticated moon adored supper music, of redbirds, next to ebon sky.
Neighbor children noticed Sam's ditties, and often trailed behind to listen,
To each verse of nostalgia, featuring him. They loved all the fun repetition!
'Mad dog skullcaps' were running amok, when black-eyed Susans, sparkled;
And bright daffodils recalled Narcissus, when magenta butterflies, startled.
'Cupid's dart' flowers were hitting the mark, working magic in love potions;
While chrysanthemums spread the 'truth,' in vivid colors, of every emotion.
Samuel was heading home, one weekend day, and a huge crowd followed;
Comprised of both children and adults, like pretty colors, sunset swallowed.
The people sang along and clapped with Sam, to the song so easy to learn,
As Sam played his drum to the march, elated with sweet memory's return!
Many years have gone since then, and though Samuel's no longer around,
Folks still march while singing his song; as violets spring from the ground.
'This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb,
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Give the dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.'
The pumpkin's almost done, each pip sticking to the edges, not wanting to be parted from its mother.
The fresh, chilly new winters gale collided into her by the ajar window and she shivered.
She could see the orange moon glide vividly across the bed of lilac clouds; night was yet to come.
A single candle was placed inside the Jack-o-lantern and she lit it for fun.
Imagining a bunch of dancing witches sing amongst the undisturbed flames.
She smiled knowingly at such glee a cackle they make.
The distant sun shone from a crack in the blues and violets of the skyline.
Triangle eyes of the pumpkin rejoiced silently at her and her minds eye was triumphant.
Its jagged teeth, some square, some not poked out from a smirking grin.
Then she climbed the wooden stairs and got whisked away in a night of amazing simile and superstition.
Her wardrobe threw clothes at her and each garment was her friend.
Racing to the front room again, she looked to her orange companion; casting a purple shadow.
Her cloak trailed excitedly after her body and the black boots clipped on the thin rug beneath her fish-netted feet.
Halloween was here again and what a rush of anxiety it brings to her soul.
She and her pumpkin made readiness in dancing about the egg soaked roads, to become engrossed in a number of friends and stink-bombs.
By Jodie Hannen
05-11-2011
For Linda Marie The sweetheart of P.S "Holiday Hearth" Poetry Contest