Long Une Poems

Long Une Poems. Below are the most popular long Une by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Une poems by poem length and keyword.


Ode a Une Femme Sauvage

Ode à Une Femme Sauvage

The sun drank the water
From the leaves below the flower
While the moon tore the flesh 
From the roots that made that day
But living past the dream
From the slit of eyes did gleam
The bloom called the barren queen
Now her prize did give away 

In the stall of pig and mire
In the nightmare of desire
The pagan films the fire
Of the bloom behind the scream
For trinkets, lights fall flashing
She lets the cameras eye start catching
The flight of youth that’s passing
while her petals fade to gray

Now naked and forsaken
For the prize her soul was taken
Upon the bed her earth is quaking  
But forever is the stage
For the flower loves the money 
and the moon, her milk and honey
Both unfulfilled lost and hungry
The web catches those who play

While living in the shadow
Of the thing we call tomorrow
Break the bone to taste its marrow
And set the stone upon the grave
For the lid of the coffin
Is the thing they find most often
Tears of rain falls to soften
The earthen sheets in which they lay

Say nights nightingale so hollow
Fly her youth unto the morrow
Just a flower on time but borrowed 
Is the maiden made a slave
But cast not your eye in judgment 
Those stones be they so isoquant
The caster as much the recipient
For is it not everything she gave
Form: Rhyme


Inspired by Les Fiances ou Souvenir de Mille et une nuits by Marc Chagall

there is a never after
     where words are lost
  and colours fade
but perhaps we won't let go ~
   in dreams and voices
     there will be one more story from me
you'll be attentive
one last time
                yet the tips of my fingers
          slip from grasp
   and all I ever wish for stills

I watch the earth spin

        confused as to who is letting go
    in this here and now

~ balance from the moon ~

             a momentary turn
     no one falls away

all lay softly
sound asleep

         heartbeats become the dream
   pictures ink into night skies
               one thousand and one times
existing as permanently
as a memory feels
when last times
were just yesterday
art
Form: Ekphrasis

Une Declaration

The stars sparkle like a gentle spring.
They long to move and give birth to Happiness.
They frolic with desire, wishing to bloom the sky with brilliance.
Let us dance, ladies — to the vibratos of the heart.

When his beloved leans toward him, he becomes her sun.
He shines, blazing, his light carrying his kindness.
He wants to offer softness, to cover the world with a rainbow.
He opens the heart-chest of his body to the one he loves.

Feelings are like a butterfly resting on a flower.
We envy their fragile beauty, yet so fleeting.
The stars capture their hopes with every spark that fades.
No — they want to live as the fruit of his prayers.

At night, sounds become more perceptible.
His heart beats, beats so strongly, his throat dries.
Words no longer come.
He implores the moon to wrap him in a case of golden dust,
to protect him from his shyness.

From this cocoon, the words take their place to offer the essential:
“Inconsolable in your absence, my hand warms itself in yours.
Love, I love you.”

— Joël Charvillat
Form: Prose

Premium Member A Juvenile Future Star Mettreajour Une Addition

All I could afford  

Was loitering at Stu Wards  

Having a draft  

Rooty tooty in beer craft  

When suddenly  

It was not funny  

A feeling I was done  

No longer welcome 

It was twilight gleaming  

Star struck with meaning  

Then like it was on cue  

Supporter fan Echo Zulu  

Exclaimed Woo Hoo  

Leaving these resentful two  

Screaming critically boo boo  

This attitude made me leave  

After wiping my foul mouth on me sleave   

Headed then to an Italian kitchen  

Hour close to be witching 

Stomach needing protection  

Pizza Bianca was the late-night selection  

Winning the food fetish election 

Took some time  

Enjoyed the dine  

Before taking a joy ride  

No needing a guide  

Up the scenic rout  

To the twin lights where I was going to shout  

From the paved cliff viewing defined Corniche  

Independent from any financial commitment leash  

Making a wish   

Dreaming a gigantic fish  

Will work with my look  

Baited on the photogenic hook  

Still at peace  

About the decision giving me a release  

On their terms  

Being concern  

Staying firm  

What was learned  

Feeling burned  

Interpreting the modern games rules  

Written by fools  

Stating to have success  

Reported in the press  

You need fortune and fame  

For everyone to know your name  

Standing here I do declare 

Showing a glaring stare   

Sending out a dare  

Stating nothing can compare  

Since success came to me fair  

And square  

Leaving power players professionally scared
Form: Rhyme

Kaleidoscopic Webbed Wide World Une

Against light source well crafted 
tubular structure appended with eyepiece gazing
offers viewer eye-opening, mind boggling 
instantaneously birthing then vanishing
resplendent myriad colorful 
geometric awesome shifting shapes 
hypnotizing sight seer into a whirling gigolo 
where multifaceted fractals display pin-wheeling
arithmetically perfect triangulate squarely 
with proportionate arcs astounding
blind faith on microscopic scale 
analogous to cosmic big bang spellbinding

mankind from time immemorial 
when her/his gaze turned heavenward 
peering into azure vault – 
one macrocosmic hint 
per origin from when on-looking
proto-humans ruminated inscrutably 
enamored at the spectacular eminence grise
forever holding mystery of universe 
evolution in shroud of secret 
continually mystifying one generation 
after another until... 

twenty first century astrophysicists 
begin to unravel evolutionary tale 
writ small on planet earth yet storied tome
pried open from scientific revolutions 
enabling birth of cosmos honed with more	
fine tuned precision to zero in 
precise second, whence explosion filled void
nebulous material coalescing 
into rudimentary galactic masses generating
vast surfeit of globular structures evincing
conically swirling
millennial futuristic clear cut entities

upon which one – namely gaia 
finds this sole member *****sapiens 
reveling in his makeshift primitive contrivance
teasing ocular sense with visual orgasms 
begetting thought provoking questions 
into this eternal wonderment
that perchance some intelligent deity 
willfully rotates planet like some plaything	
synonymous with mere mortal 
peering into magic of kaleidoscope
whereby generic one primate in love with words!

As subtle obvious 
from above and bellow doth burst
this non quitting chap doth tick cursed
with avidity, cupidity, electricity durst 
flickr ring, google ling, and high five ving first

to flout conformity, and will when 
coffin doth bear me away, 
lest cremation mine ashes get disbursed
aspiring to wax poetic fur better 
or hud duh livery wurst.


Premium Member Van Gogh Sans Une Oreille

Thoughts froth, crest, and merge through ocean’s 
indiscriminate wandering, no recognizable
beginning or end like smoke on the wind, 
melding, melting, fusing coalescing.

Reality a fragile grasp held on 
a two-dimensional canvas once white, 
clean, stretching taunt, taunt as the 
implausible reality of our existence-
existence standing, stranding, hair, fur, frond's 
weaving about crowns of trees in rye fields.

Everything alive, writhing, wanting,
needing, thriving, dying-skin crawling reality
like orange oil on the hollow cheeks of despair.
Pain, defies, belies, confusion's frame stretching
 
upon illusion's claim-eye to hand, hand to brush
the clean, white, membrane between brain pan and
paint pan. No recognizable beginning or end
melding, melting, fusing, coalescing-gone.

Self-Portrait with Fur Cap, Bandaged Ear & Pipe
Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890 Dutch)

First Published in Five Poetry Magazine 2013
art

Serre un chien dans tes bras, et une grenouille te remerciera

COME TO THYE END OF THE BOW
-------------------------------------------
He played his fiddle
 while we danced
while lunching toward
 the completion of the task.
We was-ah putting up post
to put the tainer shed on.
It was found just beneath
 the surface bout'ah
5 inches down near the
base of the tree it's
arare aoccasion for such
as silver is often found in
heavysands near mines
or in streambeds. Taint none
round here.96% pure bout
77 pounds.
Until he weighed it and said it
was 42 pounds.
My scale aint that far off. 
I beleive this is one of
those devilish varmitts
preaacher warned us about.
he told me he'd take it in for the cashing.
I said to that man you must think I am
a fool. Censored due to a Lady being here.
Well he said 
"Hugga dug and Ah-Frug will Thank you."
We needs ah Medation to solve this pendin
feud: due to his dishonesty!
------------------------------------------------
Avocado" Tinsel Toadwalk and "Tangles" Grisser Gamms
"Tare not you foul feind: put it on  the scale"
 alluvium:Abbraccia una rana e un cane ti ringrazierà.
Form: Bio

Une pensee a Maria

Maria, the flower of my life

At the heart of this journey, a light persisted: Maria.

The morning fills the half-open corridor with sunlight. The nascent rays warm the atmosphere. On the granite steps, worn by the coming and going of several generations, the door opens completely. She is there.

Grandmother, hair gathered in a bun, face radiant. She embraces me as usual, in a protective manner. I feel the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her skin, the love that radiates.

?Maria, you are the flower of my life.

The sacred fire that I wish upon everyone.

The grief is great when I think of you, but love saves life. Can one describe feelings? It is like a sculpture: one chisels the bonds between two beings over time, through shared moments, shared values, boundless love, simplicity.

We had this clarity, and we knew that sensitivity is a strength.

?Opening one's heart to others.

Testimonies serve as a binding thread, but are not an end in themselves. All roads are long with the dust of life.

The stars are but the sparks of the infinite.

To see, to hear… or to slip into the insondable silent light.

We always have a tear in the corner of our eye, a heart vibrating like the strings of a guitar. Sensitivity lives within us. It is our inner music.

Chrysalises have become butterflies. No matter the form, words always carry a world in perpetual movement.

And Maria, in this world, is the clear note, the warm breath, the tenderness that never fades.

?Joël Charvillat.

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