Long Tussled Poems
Long Tussled Poems. Below are the most popular long Tussled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tussled poems by poem length and keyword.
They called her ugly, fat and stupid
Hair tussled and unkempt
She was laughed out of her home
Chased across desert and mountain
She fought back
Found a world where she fit in
Hippies, drugs and sex filled her life
She sang words of her torture
Traveled the world telling of her life
Everyone listened but no one cared
She died all alone
Everyone mourned the world’s loss
Her words and music live on
Sung by millions who do not understand
The pain that went into each word
Feelings that only she knew
A life that ended way too soon
And gave us the Janis we all love
Years after she left this world.
Form:
The power of your name
Is stronger than the truth.
The magic of your voice
Conjures our torrid youth
When love was tussled hair
And eager searching hands
Upon a moonlit beach,
And blazing eyes entwined,
Just one small “I love you”
Was all we needed then.
It seemed to be enough
To share and share again.
Unable to hold on
O what a pair we are:
Fear dressed up as beauty,
Foolishness clothed with pride.
When the truth is spoken,
Although our loss is plain,
We have not let us go.
We will not face the pain.
We are opposite ends
Of the rainbow’s promise,
Linked only by the sun,
Refracted by the rain.
and then the wind
took a deep breath
and exhaled gently
cradled the salt on the earth
and the skin of her mind
touched and went as she could not
hold on to the soft caress
but the motion tussled her hair
and for that memory
she was grateful
a silent tear
quiet droplet of thirst
drawn out by a breeze of suspense
from her face
made her smile
the smirk assured her
that a tender
kiss of life
would save her from
stagnation and
while her existence
seemed motionless
nothing would ever
be the same and
she was ready to
embrace any storm
09th August 2021
PLACED 9th : Premium Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney : 2025
________________________
A flaming circle alighted on
fertile soils near a fig tree and
harbour of hope to savour
struggles for freedom
Love here was arrowed
steadfast or ephemeral
I disembarked to open
cultures at deeper dimensions
Mastering spirals of colour
I soldiered well trod streets
where priests and imams laced
fingers blessing ardent marches
My soul tussled with unshackling truth
a flat mountain strewn with coral proteas
was my purple majesty to manifest
dreams from fearless courage
In this land of deserts and waves
Love opened hundreds of doors
to deliver itself in all its splendour
and all its pain as it ignited gain
My atoms weaved history and heritage
traversing an incredulous African reality
where life illuminated piquant fruits of
my own making to relish or relinquish
Embalmed by a Creator who guided
sure footsteps to an axis in a spinning
crystal at heart’s core where joyful tears
are a solace for my Southern Land
That man stirs before the sun, dashing hopefulness,
Hopefulness that his son will grow, not just mature,
Mature into a man, who lugs his name,
Name engraved in sweat, not pursuing eminence.
Eminence never suckled the ardor of his soreness,
Soreness from scuffles tussled in quietness and pain,
Pain he credited so his child treasures concord,
Concord cleared through hurricanes, never ephemeral.
Ephemeral is the joy, but enduring is love,
Love that drains through detriment and scabs,
Scabs that murmur, “I bequeathed all I ensured,”
Ensured bravery enough to silhouette the celebrities.
Poem by Mugisho N.
Fine tussled forelock hides unbridled pain
from stifle-lameness acknowledged too late,
withering lesser those few that remain
watching as Stormcloud takes one final gait.
Soft drizzled rain-drops accompany booms
heard where each hoof tramples dirt into dust.
Mist escaped muzzle while ignorance looms,
glistens sheen gaskins long aching to bust.
Once thought sickle-hock due to fetlocks swelled
above coronets seen infected ill,
was quick dismissed by an owner compelled
to squeeze one dollar more from Stormcloud’s till;
Then came three races, one after the next,
which saw champion-spirit’s finest display;
Torturing sandscapes while weary croup flexed,
determined as anguished frogs made ovals pay.
He gave all he had and had no remorse,
For ended trots brought by one greedy soul –
Stormcloud indeed was a hall-of-fame horse,
erased when friendship went out at the poll.
10/2/2016
Under the cover of daylight, beneath the mill
and hustle of teaming crowds; a need
and a life-grinding poverty
swept her down a wrong way.
She strayed into streets so narrow
entered them as a shadow-less shadow
stayed where rank rooms were rent by the hour
where tussled bedsheets her only ownership.
A small child might have slipped past
the ranks of pot-bellied loungers,
but the pimps were as thin as switch blades
and their eyes scavenged
for any walking flesh.
No one kidnapped her; abused her much,
she was taken by her own weakened self,
nabbed by an ever willing surrender.
Did she come to a dark end?
Only the flickering city lights
at the end of a day
can both ask and answer
that long searched for question.
The snow lies like a virginal white quilt
Untouched by man nor beast
That’s where I’d like to be right now
No need of blessings or a priest
It looks so pretty fresh and clean
The virginal quilt bed linen of white
To get under that quilt with you is a dream
Soon tussled and warm from lovings delight
To feel the cool white sheets slip down
To feel your skin close to me
To watch your face turn from delight to frown
As the clock ticks on so speedily.
A dream watching the snow as it lays down its quilt
A dream between the sheets, waiting for the guilt
A dream to come true, what a dream that would be
Between virginals sheets, my dream lover with me.
© 20/01/2013 ~GG~
Sally saw his expression, and smiled at him.
“Prent, I never thought you’d be back.
Whatever happened to make you return?
Whatever blew your great plans of track?
What was it that the big city lacked?”
He nodded his head, and said it true:
“Boston has much, but not women like you.”
Sally’s jaw dropped, how could it not?
She stared at him, fixed on his eyes.
He said,”If you’ll have a foolish trapper,
I was thinking we might give it a try.
You’re the best girl I know, that’s no lie.”
The café went quiet, all looked on
Then Sally his lips brushed a kiss upon.
“Well I guess you leave me no choice now,
We’ll just have to go and get wed.
You heard me folks, the café’s closing!
Find somewhere else to get fed!”
Nell squealed, and Sal tussled her head.
Prent wrapped them both up in his arms,
vowing that he’d never do either harm.
Within an hour the preacher said the words
and together the two were bound.
Word spread quick and folks came out
from all of the buildings in town,
to see the new couple riding down.
Prent he ignored them, just kissed his wife
knowing together they’d raise the girl right.
Along with any others that might come along…
Passing Ships and Fools
When you define yourself
and bare all to see,
the truth revealed
is that they’ll see a fool.
When I was young,
they said I was foolish,
and now that I’m old,
they say I’m a fool!
“No fool like an old fool,” they say,
“clinging to the past!”
When we were young
and tussled in the grass,
some cried uncle, some didn’t;
most of us wavered.
With age, you’d think
we’d learn and get smarter,
but instead, we got dumber.
“If only” woke up
and walked out the door;
chalk it up to experience.
In my youth, I was a sailor
who sailed the seas.
Today, I make merry
and tell stories.
***