Long Unwrinkled Poems
Long Unwrinkled Poems. Below are the most popular long Unwrinkled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unwrinkled poems by poem length and keyword.
Rain rushed in like a concert audience.
There’s nothing calm about Spring’s arrival.
The specter gusts regrets and survival,
Strip limbs for whips — a sore obedience.
A path cut through, a cold subservience.
The robin’s heavy breast with cheep revival.*
A rose depressed in past Spring’s archival.
Absence of warmth, enrages audience.
A sip of dandelion wine — desire
spurs wholesome cheat, complete with snowy seeds.
Remembrance of unwrinkled hands - youth’s lore,
A marshmallow on spit, and rosy fire.
Enhance the peace and love of daisy beads.
Unwind the twister’s coil, unleash Spring’s core.
3/21/2018
Greg Cornish’s Petrarchan Sonnet contest
cheep - to utter faint shrill sounds : peep, to utter a single word or sound
(from Merriam Webster dictionary) Also mimics the word “cheap”
Living the dream, in your teens, not hardly.
If you forever found yourself back in time
but with memories of all that is lost, and
find you cannot even locate your Valentine,
even with your good looks, shipshape body,
your countenance would become crestfallen.
Missing the moments, did you live them at all.
You’d recall son and daughter, grands and all.
Would life still be grand when the moon falls?
The sun rose on the shoulders of her or him.
You’d talk for hours about this and that on whim.
It is the life lived and the hope of heaven to claim.
So even when your loved one dies, they exist.
But, if you find time has reversed, while you rehearse
your memories, with tears no one cares about,
‘sissy girl or sissy boy,’ because those teens
can’t relate to your old soul in a unwrinkled body,
because gram and gramps are just old.
Suddenly, your back, excited at your limp,
bags under the eyes, and the grands
run into your arms, or grab the VR, who cares -
your back…your back..oh your back…
Still you do the heavy lifting of the rich at heart,
heartily, tearfully (why are you crying, kid asks),
Living your dream at sixty-something, remembering
everything…well, not everything, but you smile
because you're golden, and what matters is life’s kiss.
The next day,
Filled,
With the dreams,
Of uncompleted history,
Promises hope,
And time,
Except,
You have things to do,
Others need you,
Depending,
Requiring,
For their absolutes,
You are a means,
To their end,
A helpful partner,
To their process,
You drift,
Through the day,
The week,
The year,
Even the leaves,
Get their days,
Of green and yellow,
But not you,
You wait,
You muddle,
Bask in the glory,
Of busyness,
So active you are,
Getting things done,
Truth teases,
Scratching,
At the closet door,
It hangs,
Unwrinkled,
Waiting to be worn,
Because it was made,
Just for you,
It's comfy,
Regal, even,
The world awaits,
Your cloak,
Your stroll,
Down the runway,
To record,
What's to come,
And that's your dream,
A designer's sample,
The glimpse,
That tells the story,
The next day,
You are scheduled,
To appear,
Present your case,
No jury,
No judge,
No verdict,
An opening argument,
Your evidence,
Which validates,
You,
Being,
Here,
Wasn't a waste after all.
(10/14/02)
Flipped Hourglass
Bits of unwrinkled sand, harried ageless seconds,
Rush through a narrow neck
Pushing to birth
Moments of elegance or horror
Shoving aside other grains
Like words of regret flowing unrestricted
Into a ballet arabesque of transparent history
Irretrievable
Uncatchable
Lost like a tear drop in desert sea dances
Prodigals or prophets unable to caress or cling
Only rush headlong into the past.
When Heaven’s hand flips the hour glass
Second chances dash forward,
Free flowing jive of refreshed possibilities,
To animate a nameless tidal stream
In a cadence of options
That takes no long lost baggage
Through gravity’s flowing fountain
Irresistible
Unstoppable
Choreography of charity recaptured
That speaks in immutable tones
Of free flowing grace.
Each spiraling grain speaks of steps renewed
Waiting to articulate
Gliding strides of spoken blessing
Or pirouettes of consecration
As one grain falls upon another
In a transparent time window,
With intervals of oblation tarantellas,
Irrepressible
Uncontainable
Until the dance routine runs its course
Dancers lie inert to hear echoes of eternity whisper
“Save your last dance for me.”
2-9-22
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Flipped Hourglass
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
against the western wind; he will certainly mourn Piraeus,
and with sorrow-striken eyes, he'll invoke Poseidon.
Then he'll depart carrying the long hunting horn.
The small vessel will hold out and he won't fear waves,
but he laughs at Ares--who despises all kinds of irony.
Occasional gusts soothe the skin on his noble face,
unwrinkled and unrugged. Spring water should
quench his dry tongue; it's too warm and tasteless.
Stored in a huge amphora which depicts faces
of gods and warriors engaged in warfare,
it has the same warmth of the sweat that drips
from his hot forehead that has turned red.
Ahead, wisps of fog arise--an imagery whale.
Beyond there are perils and certain delights;
thoughts of danger will perturb him, thoughts
of discovery will enthrall him. He will be experiencing
them on his voyage--what he desires is smooth sailing.
He has heard of sirens and cyclops,
of fertile valleys and fields of yellow wheat;
of buffalos that roam, of goats and sheep that bleat.
How amazed he will be to find rocks
to build the New City*on that pristine shore--
he will declare his Queen sitting in the marble throne!
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
to escape Achille's curse; he refuses to hide in the wooden horse,
he will never return to Greece. Athens and Sparta will not fight
with swords and arrows; their grand plan is to win war by deceit.
Cleverness will defeat the Trojans. Only Helena foresees the worse;
they don't heed her words--Troy will fall to the enemy.
* The New City: Neapolis ( Naples ).
BOIMA.
Pelo e rwalego meloko,
Mogawo wo o sa fetošwego ke nako.
O wa ka mangwele—
fela
wa se khuname!
Botiipane ke matlaka
a go gana go robega phetšong;
Lenganego ke kotse e tiilego ya sebopego,
e sa letlanywego ke tšhošetšo.
Boima bjo—
bo go tlema fase bjalo ka thaba,
gore moya o se ke wa go tšea.
English translate
HEAVINESS.
A heart carrying whole generations,
An unyielding stance against the drift of time.
You fall to your knees—
yet
you do not bow!
Stiffness is the dry stem
that refuses to snap in the gale;
Starch is the crisp, unruffled shield of form,
unwrinkled by the threat of collapse.
This weight—
it anchors you deep like a mountain,
so the wind can never steal your breath.
Form:
Still Life For Words in G Major
Our slippery searching years peel away,
From a central pulsating rind beating fast,
Which glistens like a deep sky beam of green fire,
Emitting unseen filaments with tiny balls of sap,
Crowning their peaks with a watery white bulb,
of time mixed with multitudes of naked mirrors;
Our unique human voices swim now in cloudy rivers
Like fish that have been thrown back after the hook,
Old dead friends haunt me as the stars outside
Continue their eternal dust dances in the dark,
They shake my hand as they manifest bodily,
With youthful stubborn ardor and unwrinkled skin,
To past minutes and forgotten hours,
Now digested like last night’s roast left on the stove,
By dead friends now holding flowers in a sullen graveyard,
That big green obscenity splashed with naked sun,
Peeling away from the core, the central pulsating rind,
The inner turning eye of the subcutaneous heartbeat.
Welcome 2017
2016;
A year of tribulations and blessings
Bring in an end to the tribulations with a new dawn
Dawn of a new day, a New Year, and many more to come
With scents of new roses before me with the new sun
Blessings to carry on
I choose to wear pure white and unwrinkled
Leaving the raven shadows behind with no fear
Fearing not the welcoming light at the end of the tunnel
Tunnel opens;
For
I have the warmth of the sun to enkindle
Clearing the way with one step in front of the other
Wave goodbye to the end of 2016
Enliven 2017
12/31/2016
we pull the car over
photo op for a toddler
a scintilla of snow
moments like this
a kiss from God
~
arms are open wide
for a Vermont bouquet
a spectacular display of poppies
“honey, honey!
stop the car!”
i pose aunt and uncle
then spouse and i
~
a poetry tree found
on the side of the road
(breathless)
i needed to know
what was its name
taking photosnaps of
its fine mimosa leaves
and that is not all
by any means
for a honeysuckle scent
picked me up
sent me hurling back
to childhood
my wristband pulses
throb with innocence
unwrinkled in time
sublime perfection
of snippets
momentary euphoria
in flora that lifts
me up by the nose
gathers tulips
into the mind’s
vacuous space
between the eyes
~
the autumn winds
that caress my face
make me blush
prop me up
in a high school stadium
cheering with peers
throwing confetti
stomping feet
~
i adorn the quilt
of God’s good favor
wrapped around
my shoulders
we yearn for time travel
past and future
why don’t we realize
grace has already complied?
Flipped Hourglass
Bits of unwrinkled sand, harried ageless seconds,
Rush through a narrow neck
Pushing to birth
Moments of elegance or horror
Shoving aside other grains
Like words of regret flowing unrestricted
Into a ballet arabesque of transparent history
Irretrievable
Uncatchable
Lost like a tear drop in desert sea dances
Prodigals or prophets unable to caress or cling
Only rush headlong into the past.
When Heaven’s hand flips the hourglass
Second chances dash forward,
Free flowing jive of refreshed possibilities,
To animate a nameless tidal stream
In a cadence of options
That takes no long lost baggage
Through gravity’s flowing fountain
Irresistible
Unstoppable
Choreography of charity recaptured
That speaks in immutable tones
Of free flowing grace.
Each spiraling grain speaks of steps renewed
Waiting to articulate
Gliding strides of spoken blessing
Or pirouettes of consecration
As one grain falls upon another
In a transparent time window,
With intervals of oblation tarantellas,
Irrepressible
Uncontainable
Until the dance routine runs its course
Dancers lie inert to hear echoes of eternity whisper
“Save your last dance for me.”
2-9-22
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Flipped Hour Glass