Long Veil Poems
Long Veil Poems. Below are the most popular long Veil by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Veil poems by poem length and keyword.
Whispers of leaves, a laughter's chime,
Their world unseen, a love sublime.
Fingertips trace love's hidden map,
In gentle touch, secrets unwrap.
Beyond the veil, souls intertwined,
Essence sought, not what's defined.
Love's tapestry, in hearts it weaves,
Not bound by sight, but what believes.
Empathy's touch, a world aware,
Unseen steps, burdens they share.
Sun's warm kiss, a simple song,
In gratitude, love lives long.
A glimpse, a touch, a story spun,
Love's endless flame, beyond the sun.
Blind or sighted, hand in hand,
Love's boundless heart, across the land.
Sweet silence!
late in life
I discover earplugs
my wife’s pastel plugs
that fill the ear canal
by compressing for insertion
and expanding once in place
One mauve one sepia
no lawnmowers, no leafblowers
wood chippers or persistent phoebes
water to the thirsty traveler
morphine to the cancer
better than knee surgery
or a negotiated end to the war
Such silence is so sweet
I might try blindness too
like Homer, Borges, Milton
just kidding, should there be a god listening
the veil of life is thin
if one doesn’t believe in mystery
or accepts the rules entirely
One green one brown
two leaves sleep-touching
then a breeze!
the day I left life behind
hitchhiking as the sun descends
morning air cold and clear
I cannot hear what I cannot see
The freedom of summer gone
one more season (and one more after that)
he lived with one eye after that
in a mind there is apocalypse
no one can hear it
but one day you die
and this is the ideal silence you sought
Silence of winter
one elk in aspen
mountains of dark sound
and a stream’s breath song
cities make a silent distant din
with simple joy men may give up desiring to be heard
how much tinnitus can you handle
Graceful as silence
sailing through the ferns and understory
why make a sound or noise or do anything to the page
the national debate
garrulous, querulous
the sound of shoulders shrugging
speech, none, you can’t sum it up in one more metaphor
Censor crop shorten and silence
no tv!, no self-pity
first light, green tea
no sound but wind
yet the sound still comes out of the flowers
smoke the cigarette, sound the subwoofer
and prepare for a powerful anesthesia
From beneath a veil,
A shroud itself hidden,
Anonymity It's masquerade.
Tired secrets languish,
Benighted by nature,
Emerald, to pale green and white, from jade.
A sough in the head,
Of their tepid maker,
Whispers nothing, wholly unaware.
Crafty camouflage,
For the crafter of secrets,
Who never knew they were there.
The irony aroma,
Stagnant blood without pressure,
Metallic, unmoved, unaffected.
Averse to sense,
Illusory marionette's,
Clear strings, turbid skeins undetected.
And the irony lies,
With an off thirst disguised,
By the growing pines of set minds thought unique.
And as trite as the urges,
Desperate purges,
Like mewls of the sheep seeking shade from critique.
These days, when He watches her, she unconsciously moves
a fringe of hair to veil her eyes,
and even that is cause for His chagrin.
The nights He comes home wasted, smelling of beer,
He minces her with vile slurring words, incoherent bile
that slices holes and seeps into her soul
until she feels her entrails quiver.
If she dares to speak, He seizes that moment to play Lord and Master
and put her in her serfage place (though ironically, the plebian is He).
He screams at her, “What is that? What’s that you say?”
She yearns to know the shibboleth He seeks from her,
that magic utterance to take His wrath away.
But they are words not granted her.
Remission is not hers inside His house. And when the beatings begin,
she bows on knees enfeebled, soundlessly submitting.
From this she has learned she will receive a swifter castigation.
Afterwards - through the rumbling of His stirring in the bed beside her,
she lies stone-like, replaying in her mind
what has become a more and more familiar fantasy:
A young man, debonair and kind, touches sandy locks and moves them gently
to the side. He holds her face and smiles into her eyes.
Life with such a man, she thinks, will be for her one day,
exoneration.
Written March 18, 2014 /
for Shadow Hamilton's The Dark Side of Love Poetry Contest
Is it true,
That which our eyes show us?
Is reality shaped as such
Or,
Have we been framed
To see things as such?
What if reality was something else
Something worse
Something shadowy
Gruesome
As gruesome as dreamless nights are
As gruesome as the silence of Gods
When we have spent hours praying!
What if none of it all is true
What if we are mere grains of sands
Lost in the blink of Existence's eyes?
Pray, I have had enough of this falsity
I wish to be there where the Gods are,
In flesh and blood,
In spirit and in power,
Ruling over their kingdom
With both gentleness and might!
Living is simply following the masses
As they had followed those who did so before them
Simply because they had been guided by some words of faith
Left behind in some books known to be holy!
I simply wish to be there where Truth lies
Where Existence does not veil itself
Where Eternity is not simply a work of art
There,
Where I shall feel like
I belong!
Sometimes you need
We all need
To step outside ourselves
And take another look
Grab a break
Pretend, dream and otherwise fake
That you know whats going on
Which path to take
Then again
Its good to roll with the smoke
Giggle at nothing
And share the joke
Yes, I know
Drugs are bad
Simple parachutes
For the mad, sad and glad
Looking to follow the latest fad
Ho Ho hee hee
Puff puff pass
Don’t be greedy
Plenty to go around
Hoochy hound
The magic mess
Comes from the ground
May I introduce you
To the sound?
And lift the veil
Of the deep long inhale
Hold on to the smoke
Then exhale
Wait for the rush
Then enjoy the silence
Of the mental hush
Watch the day melt away
Take your thoughts out to play
Beautifully lazy
Is all I can say
Come come
Bring your lips and a lung
Time to play hooky
And get them eyelids hung
Mary, Mary
How does your garden grow?
B.U.D.S.
Bring Us Delicious Smoke
Wonderful girl,
Come take my mind for a whirl
LOL
Eric (and sometimes not)
Becoming a leader is your way,
You want to be applaused and hailed
And within you hope swims,
But you never ask yourself why.
Why I yawn to be the head?
Do I possess what it takes
To be a great head
That head the people's right?
Void of rustic concern, crispy craving;
Craving for only for your belly filled,
Wrapped you with the veil of wants.
Neglecting good name processing.
Elapsed days may fall upon the present
As huge icicles or snows,
Asking of err of old-days
Like an interrogative person and suspect.
What one reaps, one sows;
Good name never fades.
A servant severs, not serves and loot,
In serving the people's will, he endures pain
And never he steps on one-else-shoe.
Good will, good leading's root.
Songbird singing
Morning lullaby;
Awesome mystery
~~~~~~~~~
Picture portrait
Sexy scenes;
Fiery flowers
~~~~~~~~~
Newsy headlines
Sensational scandal;
Hyper sales count
~~~~~~~~~
Acid rain
Foggy conundrum;
Sick malaise
~~~~~~~~~
Knowing heart
Grief beyond brief;
Defying commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Pain malingers
Salt on wounds;
No escape plan
~~~~~~~~~
Walkway movement
Busy feet dash;
Rushing prescriptions
~~~~~~~~~
Septuagenarian plus
Minding your own soul;
Wonder speaks well
~~~~~~~~~
Sun-drenched rain
Mad concoction;
What else is new?
~~~~~~~~~
Joy sings the blues
Why cannot tell;
Paradoxical
~~~~~~~~~
Feisty neighbour
Too much adrenaline;
Another syndrome
~~~~~~~~~
Shadow play
Bold silhouettes;
Vivid imagery
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
29 September 2016
Singapore
Published: Edge of Humanity Magazine
July 2026
________________________
So the tree stood in the centre of the desert
mangled by winds of change and truth of joy
chains of dust and torrents of rare rain
Burnt black and senseless by an
unrelenting Sun of nightmare beauty
orange was the sand of scorpions
orange was the mirage of miracles
orange was her veil of innocence
As the tree stank of heavenly myrrh
itched to pour its oil over orange
nippled breasts and buttocks
stroke curves and carves
of luminous beauty with its
ancient branches of stony bark
as beetles made holy love in its
crevices of dark deep velvet depth
And the mangled magic of the myrrh
stood short and stumped and watched
the breath of a timeless desert
slow movements of noble camels
with long thick lashes speaking of
magnificent slowness in the lick of lick
a lip in a lip
Tree of a thousand loves
sprinklings in sparkles spaced
over a tent of chiffon on sand
slithering with patterned serpents
and eyes of dark magic, of long
limbs all in One
twine and twine and grow together
as all become One
with myrrh and magic
heavy beads of sweat and
amber laugh and scream
Moments of a tree of ugly love
as ugly melts into vacant beauty
irresistible wordless wrinkles ageless
Deep furrows of sweet scent
sent desert creatures weeping
to smiling stars as a tree of life
stood stock still to imbibe
eternal myrrh itself
_____________________
In the eternal night, where stars weep tears of dimmed light,
I lose myself in thoughts flowing like an underground river, unseen, aimless,
Reflecting the shadows of the eternal search, among spirals of time and dream,
In the silent dance of silence, which envelops the soul like a veil of abyss.
Under the boundless sky, where winds whisper forgotten poems,
I remain a pilgrim of loneliness, seeking meanings in hidden stars,
My questions dissolve into the clouds floating on the vast sky,
Like an ancient incantation, repeated in echoes, in nights without borders.
I am a clay tree on the edge of eternity, with roots in the void,
Petals of thoughts unfold in silence, blooming in the sacred dream,
Like an azure forgotten by time, in the cosmic abyss that binds us to infinity,
I see in the mirror of the sky a destiny unfolding, silent and endless.
My whole life I have been a shadow, a soul drifting through the closed world,
I feel like a stranger, a traveler through dreams that unravel at dawn,
And yet, in the depth of silence, I hear a call, a tender whisper,
That ties me to the universe, to a meaning born from the chaos of the mill.
In this ocean of stars, where the sky hides its divine secrets,
I am a spark of light, a flame burning in the immortal night,
Seeking answers in the echo of time, in the waves of eternity,
Oh, soul, rise and soar, for you are never truly alone.