Long Waded Poems
Long Waded Poems. Below are the most popular long Waded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waded poems by poem length and keyword.
Summer Sunset
I smiled at seagulls dancing on the beach at low tide
and dug my toes into lemon-colored grains of sand,
nearly the same light hue of a fresh egg yolk, if fried
in Summer heat of the saffron sun's outstretched hand
I'd enjoy being alone today and feeling a bit recluse
I planned to bask and tan for a while near the dunes
In a swimsuit of lilac flowers, ruffled in chartreuse
while listening to orchestral music of my favorite tunes
I'd been lulled by the rhythm of waves on the shore
mingled with scent of lavender and soon I fell asleep
The slight sting of a burn had set in. It was past four
and what I wanted was to bathe my body in the deep
The waters of the sea were not quite emerald green
Nor the cerulean blue of a preening peacock's feather
It shimmered in late afternoon, as a bright aquamarine
I waded in but kept an eye on the changing weather
A wave washed me ashore and beside me a conch lay
pearly shades of watermelon and pink, imbedded inside
Then my eyes were drawn to a coral sky above the quay
On the horizon a tangerine sunset, so lovely that I cried
August 2nd 2017~Seasonal Color Contest
Colors to be used:
aquamarine~cerulean~chartreuse~coral~lavender
lemon~lilac~saffron~tangerine~watermelon
It was a crisp fall November weekend,
We had gotten up early that morning
A frantic rush, buzzing to go camping.
We'd packed the night before, tired by the end.
My parents briskly loaded the luggage
In the station wagon, then we'd piled in.
Tickled, Ember our lab would lick my chin.
She was very playful, but average.
Tents were set up and a campfire blazing
Overlooking the clear lake and mountain.
We would hike nature trails we were certain
Were safe and waded in the lake fishing.
Our campfire shed a yielding glowing light
That filled the night air with the scent of smoke
And lingering forest pine and silage oak.
Sky a stage of dancing stars through the night.
I think back to all the favorite times
While young, not knowing how the lord lead my
Sight, to see His love in nature, and sky
With family in the fall leisure pastimes.
1/11/2021
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
my finest moments are littered
with broken pieces of twilight,
and Crucifixion silenced
my hall of soul and light
but as the first moment
after the chaos of a storm,
light returned to filigree
and bewitch me every morn
my illumination came
with skeins of pain and pride,
and yonder on the windowsill
my hide is tanned and dyed
Ive wandered off the path
and traveled terrain for goats,
I waded through the mud
and around a castles moats
my walkabouts have taken me
to places far and wide,
but deep within my being
each cell is wattle lined
my ills and pains are eased
when I look just out the door,
and gum trees stay a swaying
and leaves do dance the floor
and endeavoring to fill
the hole that scars in part,
I bend and pick up red dust
its the essence of my heart
The remainders retreated into
the granite chest of the mountain.
Waded through the icy vagueness of life-
Crossing the Siamese catwalk.
Over the opaqueness of death.
Scratched, battered and scarred...
They reached the eternal overlook.
Peering into the great expanse.
Where worthless wars were fought.
For the sake of salt, oil, religion, and land.
To test weaponry that makes glass from the sand.
On plains where babies were born to be orphaned.
Young women ravaged over and over again...
Young men promised robes of satin but given bloody rags.
The remainders sipped from the pond of the asp.
Nibbling the bones of a black lotus sun.
Despite the infinite signs and miracles.
The prophecies and teachings of Holy men.
A million visions from the Shamen.
All but a precious few refused to listen.
To merciful lessons that time had given.
Within the petals of a lavender genesis.
They'd thought only of themselves.
Within the metal veil of Armageddon.
The warring wicked tumbled straight into hell.
Ole to yon poet writer of words
Yet engaging tarring rhythmically graphics
As all four corners images edging
I have dreamed of these those sketches
I heard an endearing, developing edging
That moment my soul grew Polaroid™
Much I marveled this irresistible press release
Extra-extra read all about it
I remember I was benefiting, computer buffering
By the grave I saw the waded balled up papers
I awoke and flung the printing ink everywhere
Deep into that darkness tattooing covering my skin
When I thought of the art
I remember I was drawing
But in the fact that it was growling
I discovered the sections
The cartographic cartoon classing
Back into my memories enticing
Disciplining and disciplining with my article
And the images never titillating
I crave the pleasurable, palatable poster
Deep into that darkness paragraphing
The deleted drawing diagraming
That moment my soul grew 7th
Much I marveled the exciting blurb text unreadable
While I crave the surprising, scrumptious spelling
For my editorial essay entrancing picture that
Fingering writing on this old Royal™ typewriter, tap-tap-tap-tapping
1/27/22
Written words by James Edward Lee ©2022
Times are hard and they always were
Poverty in blood bleeds the heart
Deprivation in breath sheds the tears
Struggle in steps squeezes the sweat
Life in tatters needs a stitcher.
He became one and always was.
The faithful sewing machine
Morphed into his third hand earning
Turning nights into days he didn’t realize
A machine had become a part of him.
The tsunami brought the floods high
Washed his home and belongings away
Nothing he called his own he could keep
Except for the sewing machine a piece of him
Old and tarnished and flaking
Like what the trying times had made him
But the survival instincts they shared.
In search of a solid ground to start life again
He waded through the throttling water
With the life maker on his shoulder.
Man and machine symbiosis stronger in disaster
Reflects mutual dependence life needs to carry
Even if uncertainty seems to cloud the future
Residual hope forms a smile transcending misery.
September 17, 2017
Image Me A Poem
I waded through the waist deep snow
Lost and forgotten where no one would go
Evading failures and faults of my own
Cleverly hidden but now I am grown
Expectations of Love and forever more
Unreceptive misgivings always close a door
And as I am so lost inside here I am free
In open unjudgemental ecstasy to just Be
Reservations unchained harsh words gone
My journey begins like a sad lovers’ song
Forgotten unloved pushed till I broke
They sat there and laughed to them a joke
A dog at my side a stick in my hand
A prayer on my lips no map of this land
Stars as my guide dog as my friend
Walk on hopeless soul till the journey ends
Try as I might,...I could not get it right
My small fingers that fumbled over the ivory whites
While scowling her face with that crabapple frown
One, two, three, four...one, two, three four...., her eyes looking down
"Try once more..." she repeated, and I would struggle, so hard....
She would point at the notes, with a yellow Number 2 .....
And circle the flats, and would circle sharps too
One, two, three, four......one, two, three four...
Don't bother to look at the exit or door
The room was too warm..." I keep the thermostat at eighty she'd say"
It helps old bones, , rhumatism, you know..it keeps the aching away"
A scent of Vick's Vapo Rub when she leaned in too close
"For my horrendous allergies".... she'd boast
A Kleenex all waded, a ball in her fist,
Her glasses hung from a nose,
That constantly dripped
One, two, three four,...one, two, three, four...
Oh how I wanted to run straight out the door
"Now, try it again", she'd say, as I glanced through the glass
Out to the sun and the summertime grass
With the sidewalk so ripe, for my playing 'neath trees
For some hopscotch, or jump rope, or roller skate keys
A day, ...not for Mozart, or Bach, or Beethoven...those guys...
What could those grim, long dead, wearing wigs in disguise
Understand of a little girls heart? One, two, three, four....One, two, three, four,
Oh how I wanted to run out the door
But now................My dear teacher....I wish you could know
How I grew to love music, and remember the days
When you gave me the knowledge and spirit to play
This beautiful gift, which I cherish today.........
One, two, three, four.....
May I play you a melody?......
And then, if you don't mind...
I'll be happy to play you one more....
__________________________________________________________________________
Miss Ella Mae Engle.... Rest in Peace, God Bless You, and Thank You From My Heart
My parents they did take me
when but a child
to the shores of Lake Victoria
where, after a while,
with not much more to do
but admire the view,
my Mother noticed,
patience wearing thin,
bubbles rising...
yes, you guessed,
always causing trouble, I had waded in.
“Oh, for heaven's sake,
you may want to save your son,”
was the comment she did make.
“What!” my Father he replied,
“Me, jump in the lake?”
“Afraid of Nile crocodiles?
Mum smiled and queried him.
“No, nothing of the sort,
it's just that... I can't swim!”
Dad sternly did retort.
What more can I say, words they fail,
other than,
“Mother rescued me that day
and here am I to tell the tale.”
A soul's etched cartography
compasses spins a needle frantic
above a parchment of skin.
A map…
Each line a river I've drowned in,
blood I waded and divide
each faded scar
a language scarlet, unfound!
My soul no longer shapes
foreign land of waste annihilates
behind my eyes...!
I see nothing
deserts exhale silent sacred sands…
Hearts pulse with unheard drums
an archway to oblivion
weathered eons I haven't lived.
I drift towards a courtyard,
run riot in green eternally…
Where faces blur like old cars
my mind whispers, doom from afar
on winds that don't remember me.
Trace the contours of my lost continents
in this cartography of bone and shadow.
Forgotten by the wraiths of the moon…
that echo within my chambered heart.
A tarnished key lies heavy in my mind,
unlocking doors behind infinite walls… sublime!