Long Twisty Poems
Long Twisty Poems. Below are the most popular long Twisty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Twisty poems by poem length and keyword.
It's scarey and curvey
and twisty and turny
this carnivale ride in my head
one minute up
and the next minute down
in all the confusion my soul
soul starts to drown
is it my fault
is it even real
to higher powers
i appeal
is this a storm that's
inside my head
or between the lines
a story unsaid
so often i feel
a boot made a steel
stomping and crushing me down
a teasing light
twinkeling bright
redemption hung
just out of reach
the ties that binde
hold me steady
until the day that
i am ready
to face a question
so ancient and old
could it possibley be
the one holding me back.....
is ME?
Flowers
Flagrant Inspiration
Spring rains soft
Love strolls
Black death
Dancing
Butterflies singing
Life a flutter
Songs only beginning
Black Death
Frolicking gardens
Beer flowing in fountains
Youth teases, curves and tinsel
Three angels in the corner, sleeping
Black Death
Tranquility
Softer than feathered pillows
Peacefulness
The final glimpse through wrinkled curtain
Black death
Rose’s red
Ring around the rosie
Skipping glee abounds
Yet over there in the closet
Black death
The path in the forest
Dark and misty
Winding and twisty
Maps hold no comfort nor key
Black death
The last
The final
The end
Inside the darkness
Until.........
How can I fetch what's inside me?
It's a mental scream I can see,
They had poured fear through my mind's crease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
There has been a real stage play,
Rumbling in the chasm and airway,
This caused the effect of the cease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Screaming voices drove me insane,
Shooters, killers, and guns again,
Frail life blights me on endless lease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
We yield what we hear, but we hear,
In our blood, others' scars are clear,
We wipe tears but also decrease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
My wounds are still bright in my mind,
Anguish since the long-term rewind,
Out of sight, cracked into pieces,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
We're together despite the waves,
Thrilled as tides rush us to the caves,
Earth seems to cast us a release,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
We plant hope as a human seed,
Love grows in the other being's deed,
These keen emotions can't surcease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
What if rain wipes tears of sadness?
We'll free ourselves from the brashness,
Teases to shed tears of caprice?
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Whether you cry from pain or bliss,
It's not rain that makes that abyss,
Crying is nature, human peeps,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
My sorrow is couched in downpour,
Sobbing has not yet come down more,
I chafe drenched while I wait for cease,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Behind my face, that beams a smile,
Long, twisty, and pitch-black road style,
Secret cries have been rife with geese,
Tears swell deep ache, I grieve in peace.
Checked by HMS.COM/ 8 syllables.com
1St place contest winner
Written: November 14, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
It’s starting to cool down here in Connecticut. Leaves are falling, like giant, burnt snowflakes (science says that trees send chemical signals to their branches to clip leaves away).
Peter borrowed a friend's toy-like, pea green, Fiat-500 convertible and we drove into the country to see the turning leaves. We hiked a bit too and stopped, in Mystic, for seafood.
I never realized just how theatrical trees could be, with their few, simple, chlorophyll tricks and how reflective still lakes could be. Wowzer, just - wowzer.
There are some things that should never be shared. Like a toothbrush, an iPad, lipstick, strawberry stroopwafels, a slice of pizza or a secret lover (that last one just sounded good - but yeah). But life is good, I can share that. We’re young, dramatic sophomores with good hair products and we’re at it, working and playing hard.
Ahh.. ok, upon consultation, I have to add that some of us are in their mid-twenties with only a few good years left.
Did I mention that we climbed up a twisty lighthouse staircase too? Peter always thinks people should take the stairs, and not the elevators, “You want to have muscles and bones that work when you’re eighty,” He says. Since he’s closer to eighty than I am, when we’re not carrying furniture, I let him have his way. Of course, he’s never been to up Lisa’s 50th floor townhouse either.
My mom told me that they’re off to Poland again, over the holidays, for another tour with “Doctors without Borders” (Damn war). Lisa’s parents have (kindly) invited me to share their high-rise utopia again this year. Who knows, maybe Peter will have his chance to try those stairs.
Sipping the
Poisoned, dark
Inky medicine..
I am Remiscent of a
strange Alchemy
silently lulLing the
unsuspecting Lovers
surreptitiously Into the twisty,
snakey, turNy underworld of
Gnarly trees and
rootS that writhe to
triP the unwary heart.
a pastIche of memory that
Reminds of
Alluring all
the Lost souls
sLowly
Into the
Nocturnal
Gaze of the
omniScient
ever Present,
ever lovIng
fatheR and creator
of All things;
indeLible,
everLasting,
consIstently
eNgaged for
Goodness
The dream lingers as I stroll past a rippling stream,
Wind echoes through the tangled emerald trees;
I am, in deep reverie as the birds sing for me unseen,
Oh, sadness leave, just float away on the breeze
God painted a sunset in bright colors so beautiful,
He made me a masterpiece that touched my soul;
I watched the sky swirling, twirling and I was tearful,
All around me was nature as I touched marigold.
Winding tendrils growing wild, I love their twisty way,
Meandering, looping, curving with serpentine twisting;
Seeking, wanting, begging for a sweet bit of sun ray,
Nature brings me such tranquility and I am praying.
Melody of dawn came to me as I woke from my sleep,
The forest was a rhapsody of birds calling and calling;
Beautiful and wondrous the scene that I wanted to weep,
In the morning dew, my spirit healed and was soaring.
Rose in the hush of dawn, bright and red and lovely,
I want to pluck you and keep you all the day with me;
Yet, I hesitate because it will mean your death surely,
So, I leave you for all those walking by to see.
___________________
September 2, 2015
Poetry/Rhyme/Healing Nature
Copyright Protected, ID 15-705-633-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
The lines are well rehearsed
The blocking to perfection
No curtain yet to elevate
Audience anticipation
A gentle mist wafts across
The scene is set and ready
Our actors find a mark
Low voices slow and steady
We witness fighting
Friendship, love, a tangle of emotion
The heart it lifts or falls in time
Betrayal and devotion
Death and life parade before
A story twisty-turny
The hero has to test his heart
Through convoluted journey
All characters are woven
The plot line slowly thickens
A tribute to the tellers
Whether Shakespeare, Brecht or Dickens
An interval, a time to breathe
Reset the scene and go
Refresh, review, reconnect
Then on we must; This Show
Jinjagoliath
23rd September
Lasagna, linguine, spaghetti, ravioli, macaroni too
Is there any pappardelle for me and for you?
Here is marinara sauce lavished on angel hair
Sure try to take a bite of my pasta if you dare.
Shrimp scampi, chicken, blackened salmon. Why not?
Bucatini, vermicelli and fettuccine hit the sweet spot
Chunky meat sauce with hamburger a plenty.
I would add more cheese, but there simply isn’t any.
That is not fettuccine you fake connoisseur,
It is obviously tagliatelle. Your pedigree unpure.
Campanelle noodles with her sweet ruffled edges
Rivals cavatappi which gives cheese rather soft ledges
Spiral shaped fusilli has groves and crevices galore.
Radiatori noodles? I love this the best out of my top four.
Elbow macaroni for the kids maybe. They think it’s fine.
But make a fancier dish if you don’t expect me to whine.
Butterfly like farfalle makes me smile and laugh.
Gemelli is too twisty; it deserves a lot of gibble and gaff.
Penne noodles are my least favorite. I do not like them at all.
I could only eat them six or seven days a week winter and fall.
Written: June 14, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 37 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
______________________________________________________________
Amidst the rolling hills and verdant green,
Lies a land of arcane, almost Xanadu if seen.
A place of ariose where dreams are born,
And the sun rises each day as an auric crown.
In this Elysian land, time seems to stand still.
Worries and troubles fade away, as if by will.
Here, one can find peace and tranquility.
The beauty of nature is its canorous serenity.
Glory in magenta and gold hues in the sky
The birds emit an opera of tunes as they fly.
The aroma of fresh flowers floods the air.
Trees soar high, their limbs rising in a blare.
Going upward, I have faith in my heart.
Through gloomy slopes and twisty parts.
The peaks are starting to come into sight.
Their tops were aurified with golden light.
I wander through this nebulous land of bliss.
And fathom a sensation of perspicuous peace.
I realize that I have embedded my idyllic place,
An oasis of diaphanous passion and grace.
Almost akin to Xanadu, an island of dreams.
It motivates me with whispered schemes.
The seal of the blessing of a utopian paradise
A realm where loveliness is eternal never dies.
"Has solitude ever led your steps down a forest path . . . "
The mountains are calling me, and I must go and venture outside
I get a tingling in my stomach followed by a memory imprint
Hiking was a meaningful part of my life that I’m afraid has died
Trails and long-distance walks innately like a vortex I was drawn
I strolled along some of the most Linda, Chula, and Buena Vistas
Twisty Canyons I trekked, climbing on days of daunting dusty sands
Hair-raising steep slopes so high I crawled ascending on my hands
Forestry paths I reflect on, missing the woodsy mist and earthy smells
Bone trail pumas and cayotes to be wary of, there was no buffer
I have trodden the main trail as I lead myself into a tranquil meditation
Began my journey by giving thanks and with an informal salutation
I meditated mostly on the Indigenous journey of many sorrows
I imagined what hell it was for the man, woman and their child
Mile after mile day after day, by night besieged, saw no tomorrows
Endlessly they marched far away from their own land evergreen sublime,
Known as “The Trail Of Tears” that lead to a promised land of all time
As their bodies fell embracing the earth after hardships suffered
One by one with their dying breath, their spirits finally were set free
How I long to re-visit the colorful mountains I loved and knew so well
They kept me of sound mind and body and soul, I long for their song What had made me strong now feels so far away I wonder is it gone?