Long Uncoils Poems
Long Uncoils Poems. Below are the most popular long Uncoils by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Uncoils poems by poem length and keyword.
MARRIED TO A SAILOR
Straight talk, he walks into her heart.
He speaks of submarines and such.
No one could keep their lips apart,
his handsome pair warm to the touch.
But being portuguese, blood boils,
and half corn beef and cabbage, too.
The love affair almost uncoils,
thus driving him and her askew.
Yet being stronger than the storm,
A ring of gold, encircles them,
and seeking God becomes the norm
Of duo gripping this - His hem.
With God impressed the love is sure,
and white redress to keep them pure.
6/17/2017
8 syllable sonnet in iambic pentameter
Sunset skies drape silken ribbons of red yellow orange pink, bleeding.
Crayola colors swirling on the watery surface of Summer’s sweet dreaming.
The soft velvet lips of the kissed red rose closes, bending before the night.
Winds race billowy white bursts across the chilled blue of Fall and the birds take flight.
Ice drips along the crooked edges of the stripped branches, stark against smudged grey,
they are carved black silhouettes fingering the bone white of winter’s display.
Earth oozes around the fertility of Spring, and the scented breezes,
caress life as it uncoils and showers gardens that have been lovingly seeded
Four seasons have passed and each one captured on an artist’s beloved canvas;
Visions to behold as if in a refracted otherworldly light stardust dances...
Heated by sun and rock
a mottled snake licks the morning air.
Last night, stones were its eyes,
a blood-chill had frozen the flavor
and flicker
of tongue and taste.
The daylight is already sun-crushed,
heavily it crumbles,
dry churning a scant green
to withered acres,
grinding all beneath its hermetic heel.
A rabbit runs a racetrack behind its eyes,
long whiskers sightlessly search
reaching far from their hidden hollow,
its brown pelt dreamily brushes over
a rounding horizon.
Snake uncoils, breaking boulders of blood
between warming bones.
A cage of hoops unlocks a hunger.
A blushed mouth is snugged around
translucent fangs,
bodkins that smell out
all small-pawed scrabbling’s.
Rabit ears twitch as eyes leap awake,
it hears the serpents lithe unhinging,
senses its scaled unclasping.
An immediate pulse quickens,
vibrant tendons of awareness
animate joy and fear.
On the quiet breath,
visions of life or death arise
as speculative ghosts.
Now the sky must record
while the earth forgets.
London growls under the tread
of diesel driven dreams.
A stork visits,
an attic full of discarded toys.
White mice sleep in pajamas,
made of childish nightmares.
Barges reek still, just as when,
sweat was as common as dirt.
A window in Baker Street,
opens to let pipe smoke out,
it uncoils in the air
like a left-handed genie.
Meat mongers return to their,
gore-soaked cradles
before the dawns leery light.
The city is a fable,
there is fuel oil seeping,
through tunnels and runnels,
where entrenched gutter snipes
lie low and wait.
Denizens' crabwalk
along Regents Street
barking Chinese commands
at oppressed corgis.
Stately towers are pressure washed,
until they shed a dark sunlight
that fractures ferrous raindrops.
Tenements sink under the weight,
of red carpets
until the blood flows
out of them.
London by night,
is a veneer,
a crust
of low expectations.
The path splits as unfortune would tell
The crooked, splintered sign gives warn
One says that it's the Highway to Hell
The other points to The Children of the Corn
Sudden dizziness overwhelms your entire Being
Vertigo has seem to have spun you around
The fog and mist hinder what you are seeing
Your legs cramp up as you fall to the ground
The mind numbs into a state of confusion
Unable to decide which path to take
Maybe it is all just an optical illusion
That this creepy feeling is just a fake
Standing you wobble and veer to the right
Taken as a sign your path is chosen
The Darkness has painted the blackest of night
Blind with frightened feet now frozen
A sudden wind so warm yet gives you a chill
Erupts from somewhere an unknown direction
Shhh be quiet hold completely still
As the wind whispers "You have no protection"
Panic drips sweat down a furrowed brow
And pools around your sinking feet
Your mind screams to do something now
Your Soul only feels the agony of defeat
Now waist deep paralyzed in fear
All motor skills seem to have died
Passing your chest just under your ear
Dancing in the Devils undertow tide
Panic short changes your very last breath
As the pool of tears pulls you deep within
Strong hands pull down into certain death
Lungs fill with the hot blood of sin
Thoughts no longer seem to make sense
As you plummet down to the earths core
The pull of this gravity is just too intense
As you slam face first into a burning red door
The door bursts open into this fiery cave
The noise now chatters of the insane
Pain explodes while flames lick your grave
Sanity burns out all the remnants of sane
The Red Beast appears laughing in Hell's sky
Flashing his fake veneer evil smile
Please this isn't real rubbing your eye
Laughing in your ear this Devil in denial
Hot it's so hot as organs start to boil
The putrid smell of fire burnt skin
Change you feel as a new tail uncoils
New chapter, new life as a Demon begins
Written for poetry contest "Scary Stories" 10/08/24
Hosted by: Crystol Woods
I can’t sleep no matter how much I try
My heart is aching with all the why’s
My only joy is to think that every night will fly
And a dawn of hope will rise at daybreak in the sky
Time uncoils and sheds it’s daily skin
The gloomy shadows and grief will wane
I sit and tend to my heart whose in pain
As the dawn in my soul wakes up the night
The sunrise follows on the heels of night
I know well for I have kept it in sight
Sitting in shadows I reach out for light
And so in my mind I embrace myself dearly in this fight.
3.5.2021
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
Contest:’ Open poetry 4’
Discernment is passed down across generations.
Inside the eyes and between the partitions.
Be that as it may, what's the alterity between them?
How might we perceive both body and soul stem?
My best half, you will consistently have my heart.
The most remarkable princess on the planet.
The sly fire is seething, and it's fetching you.
Endlessness until this man sigh toward the paradise hue.
Shifted symbols that we don't yet understand;
Evaluate the holes between the sheets with an award.
Scrutinize and examine each curving path;
Conceptualism is a solid and wild naturopath.
How diligently you adorned your beauty!
You sigh as you escort your gifts fly severely.
Consume your life and torment your mental despair.
The Platonic anger has faded, noticeable in the air.
Love sighs humdrum around, and endless urn bare.
The flames have frozen your life, and you scare.
The last bow in gold quiver stings hot and cold.
To polish off the last sigh, Love's shade trolled.
I'm excited by the idea of hearing my last voice.
Will it be one you've never seen or a halcyon face?
Where shall I be when I let out my last sigh?
Or, oddly, will it be the errorless reason on that day?
Convey one last glance at the sun and the stream.
The Blue River uncoils at an underground seam.
She sobs she sighs and alliterative name,
"My love, my love, why do you leave me to inflame?
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 22, 2021
This or That, Vol 6 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
No prophesy, epiphany or convoluted scheme
Forecast it’s not. For sure, no joke. And isn’t a pipe dream
But something tells me, instinct chimes, we are so overdue
For global war, as tensions build, for there are many clue
With Pakistan and India, it’s not a soccer match
Red China has a grabby hand, conducts another snatch
U.S. of A. is causing pain, with strain all the way
Against Ukraine – the NK troops, in serious gun play
The good ole Europe has no clue - to sh*t or wind the watch
And Yemen’s Houthis, aiming hate to go up extra notch
Iran and Russia sign pact, strategic, kid you not
We drop assistance to Ukraine, it’s nothing but a rot
In Tehran, they're building bomb, with scary letter “N”
Against Hamas and Hezbollah - combat, no exit plan
Islam, it riles every land, to dominate - and will
Plus Moscow drones attack Ukraine, to have civilians killed
That last world war, forgotten much, is eighty years old
And pressure builds, tectonic plates, are barely on hold
One stupid move or power play – that’s all it’s going to take
Then “Mother War”, an ugly name, uncoils like a snake
I should be wrong, I must stay hushed, I want to live in peace
Yet waves of anguish, they’re spread by White House mouthpiece
What do I know, a little ant, antennas sensing breeze
But if you hear, powers be, don’t start a new war, please!
* NK – North Korea
April 30, 2025
*Image of Contrary To Popular Belief by Medium.
The End Times
A locomotive train chugs remote wails,
The tempest brews a calamitous stunt,
Falls of exiting steam, moist teary tails,
A structure of ills desires cured a want.
Veil vibration replaced by hissing wake,
Cataract succession cues lined motion,
Some distracted or misguided, opaque,
Soulless of no else deluged rain ocean.
Sullied countenance, mockery furthers,
Epochs and places are just meaningless,
Thoroughly isolated faced earthworms,
Constantly moving, redemption is thus.
Ejected wetness lift drips of sweat mix,
The stench of septic mortal feces foils,
Contour be less as the haunted will fix,
Worker's fast recovery spreads uncoils.
Rally cry register whispers pitch, softs,
Periodic responders aides the crushed,
Posture updated processing kickstarts,
Rancid remains, putrid folks, relief guts.
Orders of ruinous wayward verve shifts,
As shots of waterworks claim offensive,
Soapy lathered bodies recast the stiffs,
Challenging chambers took a directive.
Where'er 'twas is whate'er 'tis to be-be,
My sweatshop is done I will be obeyed,
For I am the Lord master 'tis realms me,
I give to you all of that you hath prayed.
'Tis all you lived, died for it is paradigms,
Earn that you buried a tip for end times.
2022 February 11
Swans row the sky
just feet above the copper water.
Gulls twist their necks to watch
a lone sailor on the prow
of a sludge-decked dredger.
On the slate thatched gambrels
of a lesser known roofs
spotters search for night bombers,
the figures have turned to stone
as do all oft repeated passages
from dog-eared scripts.
London growls under the axels
of diesel driven dreams.
A stork has visited
an attic full of discarded toys
bells ring out for new born sales.
Barges reek still, just as when
sweat was as common as dirt.
A window in Baker street
opens to let pipe smoke out,
it uncoils in the air
like a left handed genie.
Tower bridge drops upward,
to quarantine all gawkers.
Meat mongers return to their
blood-soaked cradles
before the dawns leery light.
The city is a fable,
It is aflame with tall buses
that never were the same,
yet there is sea oil seeping
from the tunnels and runnels,
where entrenched gutter snipers
lie low.
Here in the denizen dinge
the sure footed dead
avoid being seen
by the googly eyes of alien robots,
tin manikins that crab-walk
along Regents Street
barking Chinese commands
at oppressed corgis
and other less compliant drones.
On what was once Speakers Corner
hunched pavement artists
dribble into the chalky cracks
between showcased hoopla’s.
Slyly the loitering snollygosters,
lollygaggers and stumblebums,
crane their ductile necks to see
shell games in full view
even as they vanish.