Long Unframed Poems
Long Unframed Poems. Below are the most popular long Unframed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unframed poems by poem length and keyword.
My soul wanders in the dark alley within me,
plunges in the abyss of discontent.
The unsatiated life, unframed and uncertain,
casts a formless shadow of ambiguity on the being,
that flares up as anguish in the carnival of darkness,
burning my essence to ashes of bleak nothingness.
In the gloom of the dismal opaque night,
across the murky landscape of the formidable fate,
I need to take the ordained last journey committed,
for I have promises waiting to be kept,
but I lose the tortuous track travelling the illusive time
in the tormenting gloom of the labyrinth.
The holy fire of spirit is then ignited within me
to incinerate the spreading wings of the deluding ego,
glows the realigned elements of the dormant force,
shows me the path away from the illusive self-worth,
and flashes in the mindscape the sagacious sense,
not to be induced by the imprudent impermanence.
At the fringe of the fleeting forlorn moments,
shaping the perspective of introspection,
and shining in the inner resplendent heavenly light,
I see the blazing sunrise in the dawn of revelation.
The rays of hope radiating from the hued horizon,
illumines the dark recess of the morose mind.
The consciousness in the fold of timeless inner solitude
kindles the concealed candle of the almighty,
that burns with the radiance of the eternal fire,
suffusing me with the glow of sublime bliss,
I carry within me beyond the shadow of strife as I travel
on the promised path to the lighted sanctum of divinity.
_________________
February 26, 2023
Contest : Which Fire Is Eternal
Sponsored by : Joe Maverick
Written: February 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
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Line of inquiry:
“feeling not thinking, soul with love linking ~
we attained God-consciousness unblinking”
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On wild paths, the spirit strolls untamed,
Cosmic currents caress, creating a heart chase.
Through twilight and triumph, we tackle the case,
Gaea gear glimpses, an odyssey by the unframed.
With spirits snared in love splendid spark,
The moonlit odyssey hits before nightfall grace.
Stars spark splendid dreams in a sacred space,
In tranquil thesis, trepidations tumble, in dark.
Perceptions push as phantoms fade away,
Beside booming ballads of bedrock bright.
Reconnected with reality radiant sight,
Empathetic ebbs eradicate errant astray.
Divine warmth bestows clarity and a mind alight,
Undying eyes greet whimsical ways of form.
Incessant, ethereal embrace eclipses the norm,
It bows to beseech, bright, blaze, and light.
Past and raw stories swirl in the seawater,
soaring willows weep wondrous, watery tears!
As austere utterances unravel earthly fears,
further facts flow from warm weak wander.
Lovely litotes linger with sandy emotion,
orogenic smiles in saffron specters soar!
Pestilence purged by profound laws, lore!
Smart minds evoke ethereal interaction.
Minutes manifesting satori’s splendid shimmer,
phantom imagines bending to uncanny wallow.
Hadal heights where nocturnal nebulas follow,
Ignite love's lingering legacy in cobalt skimmer.
The bible
our pure poetry
Divine voice
art -- gallery imagery
Father’s expanding palettes of time
space infinite –
shadows of unframed
formless canvas -- man's freedom
to light, shape, transverse supernal grace,
we, alone, limit speed
and trajectory
bridging dark gaps, colors
dappled, dropped and splashed
faith will make mix, both consciously
and intuitively apply:
heaping our scrapers and brushes,
the chill of the chalkboard screech
the joy of the slip and slide
the rankle of arms and hands figuring
otherwise meaningless medium
Creativity man's Adam
ligaments of my elastic being
dutifully, lovingly allowing stretch
for explore
sinewy constructs for
mental lift and taut endurance,
the unshakable frame that
holds all upright, and
makes daily challenges
superbly sculptable, while
retaining elasticity --
God let’s be
and we decide
if when and what…?
His unseen hand
yet in the flaming attributes….
Written: March 14, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
***********************
On that obsidian night,
I found your flawless face,
echoing with illuminated breaths
and hushed whispers from Mulberry Trees
The sunset swan song lingers.
in a warm twilight embrace.
Springtime ushers in butterflies,
dancing in a garden of flowers.
The gentle breeze serves as music,
and they flutter about for hours.
Each butterfly dons its finest attire,
softly adorned by
the petals they cherish.
Their movements are a ballet in the air
adding beauty to the garden,
a delightful sight so rare.
Threads of turmoil
dance across a colorful sky.
Glimmering gazes gather,
grinning at the edges with grace.
From waves of sorrow to deep love,
Break free and soar high.
Graceful transience
crossed my path,
your porcelain pout
spoke profound truths.
I shuddered, sobbing and shrieking.
The tattered threads tore apart.
As we breathe in gentle impermanence,
We draw sunlight with our breaths.
A fractured mind finds restoration.
as resilience blooms from the foundation.
Carefree smiles, now bear marks,
dimples etched by time hand,
and a final stretch carved
in a meadow so serene.
The gravel path beneath our feet,
worn and rugged through the years,
bears witness to fading sparkles
as daylight slowly slips away.
Lucent lanterns of fireflies
flicker upon ebony stems,
scarlet petals soaked
in the soft morning mist.
My fist of frustration.
clutched self-sabotaging shadows,
resilience radiates through
rooted in steadfast resolve.
Ebony stalks with olive leaves
Hold scarlet blossoms high.
Desperation grasp weakens,
releasing doubts into the soft azure sky.
The sultry sun sinks behind it.
racing storm-filled clouds,
reflecting life’s ever-shifting
kaleidoscope—our trials laid bare.
We craft unframed dreams.
from a hidden lattice unseen,
built on unwavering hope
where despair has often lingered.
Sacred truths uphold
support amid the sunset’s glare,
embracing complexities —
Love's chaotic dance is laid bare.
“The rays of setting sun design the unframed dreams
in life’s kaleidoscopic snapshot.” – by Poet
The revolving wheel of the ceaseless time
rotates the contrived kaleidoscope of life,
the riveting patterns change persistently
in the mélange of motif enmeshing the mind.
The chameleon colors transform transiently
the visage of mind’s varied landscape
into the ashen essence of burnt forlornness,
or the beguiled feeling of emerald exuberance.
The dispersed dreams drifting away to the past,
float on the cascade of fantasy stream,
meandering on the topography of the present,
carved out of the bedrock of ebullience.
My emotion replicates the wings of butterflies,
fluttering on the ripples of blissful breeze,
and before they all waft away to obscurity,
form for me a flying formation of fulfillment.
I take my lonesome journey with hope
across the greening wasteland of despair,
or along the glittering garden path,
lined with blooming saplings of bursting colors.
I then perceive my closed mind unfurl,
unveiling the receptive canvas of sensuality,
painted with shifting colors of sublime beauty of being,
creating the kaleidoscopic collage of euphoria.
_______________
March 11, 2023
Theme chosen : Kaleidoscopic
Contest :Writing Challenge - "K" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
For A Brian Strand Premiere No 1215 Contest
A stem sprouts leaves two
Holding cute bud new
Grows free
Unfurls charming hue
Makes a flower blue
Blooms glee
Unframed scene sticks to
Pleased plant, shines with dew
Silky.
Bridge the two banks see
Standing on strong knee
Crossbow
Structure so crafty
Makes closeness lovely
Somehow
Bonding seems to be
River’s sole trustee
To show.
Longing two hearts grow
Desires in spate flow
Find clue
To bloom life nouveau
Paired love’s floral glow
Debut
Dear link two lives know
Living brings rainbow
In view.
_____________
March 18, 2023
Syllable count checked at HMS
Contest : Write Me A Virelai
Sponsored by : Kim Rodrigues
“It’s in there!”
The frizzy haired woman insisted with mirth in her eye.
“But, how?”
I asked beseechingly.
She gave a mischievous laugh from impish lips in reply
And then skipped merrily on her way.
The most precious thing I ever lost
Contained in a small puzzle box?
Ridiculous!
I paused.
No, I knew what the lady said to be true.
I could hear the enchanted object
Whispering to me
In an unfamiliar language
That my heart somehow understood.
I was missing a precious commodity.
Something very special.
My memory could only see vague outlines.
However, I was confident
A magnificent treasure
Lied within the small chest.
Now focused,
The mystery of unlocking the chest came naturally.
With greedy eagerness
I quickly opened that which held me back
From my forgotten prize.
And . . .
The chamber was empty
Save a simple unframed mirror
Taped to the inside of the lid.
I remembered the woman with a playful smile
And thought,
“Is this a woeful attempt at a joke?!”
I started to seethe
And my face began to contort
Then I saw my reflection.
Memories of loss
Due to anger, regret, and missed opportunities
Cascaded into my mind.
Were these my most precious valuables?
Did I now consider these thoughts so I could make changes?
Or did I recall them to realize that they made me who I am today?
Both or neither!
It didn’t matter.
It was simply the past
On which I didn’t dwell.
Again enraged,
I shook myself from my stupor,
tore the mirror from its place,
and threw it shattering to the ground.
“So, it was a trick.” I grumbled.
And was just about to curse
when a glint from box caught the corner of my eye.
Upon closer examination,
Behind where the looking glass once stood,
Was a simple etching that pierced me with a penitent knife.
“I heart Jenny”
Jenny.
Jennifer.
My sister who passed away
When I was the simple age of five.
A beautiful brown haired brown eyed teenager
With a kind smile and the most incredible soul.
Cancer.
Had it really been over four decades?
Too few memories and too little recollection over the years.
Now, I recalled.
Feelings as much as details.
Love and peace.
I made a commitment to myself.
To never lose sight of that which was most important again.
I would speak to you of the seasons set upon this earth.
Each would make its mark ingrained when it is birthed.
Surely there is but one place to start the heart to sing
when greens come forth at the first show of Spring;
the tender shoots rise steady from the softened ground
as the seed begins to grow straight, narrow and unbound.
A babe's life begins to form like sparrows in the thicket rose
appearing like the parents, mother, father or another undisclosed
while still in its youth it continues to struggle and grow
balking and resisting of the parental taboo of no.
Spring was just a moment, a brief second in time
and quickly comes the summer of youthful prime,
slipping quickly through the lessons of young life
each slide to educational and professional heights.
The warmth and light of maturation in the brilliant sun
is a syncopated dance hardly begun;
when the years fade and disappear
into visions and dreams less clear
and suddenly we are standing looking left and right
wondering how we got to basking here in summer's delight.
Autumn falls and quickly meanders in,
just when we thought that life was ready to begin
and we find time has sped too quickly by
with thirty, forty, fifty on the fly.
Where did it go, the years so looked forward to
suddenly realized uncounted, now lay behind you.
More than half of life is spent
and marks were barely a dent.
Holding on tight to what is now
dare we face winter's hours?
Winter lies close around the turn
filled with fewer days to burn,
and looking back seems mere pondering
cast with images still wondering,
if we have fulfilled our destinies
played our games and planned well our seventies.
The sidelines remain open, cold and unframed
conditioned only by our self set restraints
as we fight, resist, contemplate our age
failing to chill and sleep away that last stage.
He chooses his medium and tools carefully:
It's oil and sable promise today.
He lays it on thick-haphazardly.
He folds then unfolds the unframed canvas many times
into the shape of a woman.
Squeezing out her dignity,
then reads what's left behind...
(his flavor of voodoo).
He fondles her entrails-shakes her bones.
That spill into the shape of.. "a little less than yesterday".
Picked over prey, he frames her.
Hangs her in his fun house tilted mind;
Then he buzzard hops away, taking to the sky.
Circling above, searching for another pair of wide soft eyes.
He chooses his medium carefully...to fit the deed.
Today it's his black clay heart that changes shape.
From a soft nest- to a cold, cackling cage...
The bunny takes the musky bait,
he spits gasoline on the bars.
Runs metal talons against a dying star...
igniting her.
He waits till her ashes cool.
He inhales deeply, puts the rest in a mason jar.
...proclaiming victory
he slithers away...
He chooses his medium carefully.
Today it's his stained-glass smile....
"His heavenly mirage".
A magnet for the she doves
which fly into it, heart first.
They're diced with shards from a toxic rainbow.
But there is no gold at the end.
Only hollow caves and poisoned winds...
He dons his cape and crown of dying doves.
Which have since turned from white to red.
He lounges around, buffing his trophies with a split tongue.
He chooses his medium carefully...
********************************************
Driftwood
Once part of a thing lone and simple,
That stood breathing sky through a spray of green
Held in a tangle of outspread arms,
Some circumstance tore you loose from your moorings
And cast you adrift,
A wanderer on the unframed seas
Whose eddies shaped and changed you
Into your present enigma: something more and less
Than you were when you were born.
My eyes follow your strange contours,
Pitted, twisted by lash of wave and solar fire,
And the thought forms in me of how circumstance
Carries us through the wild ocean of changes
We call a life,
Pulled loose from our moorings
To ride along a vast and silent deep,
Shaped by the lashings, burnings and turns of fate
That transform us by degrees into something lovely, mysterious -
Something more and less
Than what we were when born.