Long Waives Poems
Long Waives Poems. Below are the most popular long Waives by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waives poems by poem length and keyword.
“fantôme du noir chevalier”
whither doth thee cometh from?
Strange voice that I see
Coldness of ire burns
the skin beneath sheets
paper white guise
black ink heart bleeding within -
stranger the walls do speak here
in the mirror swimming See
the lost reflections of souls
the misguided forlorn
disenchanted do scry
their petulant perplexity
ghosts for the haunting
picked like ripe plumbs
legions illuminating dead dreams
the devil beating his drums
in her spectral bed
the incubus arrives
the succubus hums
once were bold quills tracing
curves cursive passionately clear
near human once attempting sincere
to unlock love with blind faith ne’er fear
I hear your tome calling
fantôme du noir chevalier
erudite Faust waives
ignores lore written before him
I hear your tome calling
fantôme du noir chevalier
Salome is her name
a new dance appears
She will take you
before morning
a promise forewarning
I give this to thee
fantôme du noir chevalier
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Here in My Room”/ Incubus
https://youtu.be/0IlPlKBXRHE
Sonnet LXXXVI
Sea the wight-capped waives rolling inn the see;
here the howling wynds, wile I’m standing hear,
whale and forme hi waives. Theirs eh jumping wail-
tale upp inn the ayre! This should make gneiss tail
two tel wen eye get holm. Butt now theirs too
blew wales inn wiaves- there water spouts just blue!
Whether getting worse, kneed two sea weather
it's my thyme too lieve since wynd now blows it’s
grate, whiled sounds awl across the see, witch great
allowed and shriek. Could bee, I’m knot aloud
write hear two stay- dew knot want gnus too right,
“Sum man fell inn the see and payed the some
witch cost his life from storms angry whiled which.”
Week legs mite make mi sync and fall; eh weak
wood pass before they fined mi with eh would
bored inn my grippe from roe boat beet and board
bye waives and whild wynds that kame and flue buy.
Eye no, its thyme too lieve, cum back wen aye
cee com, and eye can stay eh wile two sea
wails jump inn waives without the wynd’s whiled whales.
April 7, 2015
~2nd Place~
Contest: Only Homo’s Allowed
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Judged: 04/30/2015
(Homophones)
My Home
Diurnal prayer, "Praise the breath in me."
I plucked the honeysuckle of the Sun,
And grouped it on the chamber windowpane,
Save a trip during senses pair, smell, sight.
Painted a bird, perceived that it held firm,
Circumnavigated, adopts the sky,
Possessed during flight, the heart from my niche,
Acquired its course on some nest, where it stays,
While rare wonderment, some docile sheet prop
Against patterned desk, ambushed orbs boost plus
Dips, an African safari relief,
I perceive a remarkable presence
Encompassing me, a baseball in mitts,
Leather scents the room, succeeding flowers
From morning growth, promptly eve waives the Sun,
Seizing method, grooves of a desk melds,
Cascading warm wetness lifts per young heart,
Retreating through a room via some lights,
The gods, Lunar succeeds Solar, trade blows,
Constellate the beyond all Stargazers,
Soon sights observe a stellar relief sky,
Delinquent, charts the weightiness of lids,
A sole soul fumble chambered memories,
Nocturnal prayer, "I will be there soon."
2019 August 17
*3rd Place*
My Home
~~Lu Loo
"The Christmas Wars"
Christmas is never stolen
the parent dresses a tree
every year,
tenderly,
like adorning
a fragile child
caught between
the Christmas Wars
The Christmas of a
Ghost Past
sings silent nights
calling a dream
home, the dream
that matters most
like a golden star
set in its ways
holding its position steadfast,
high, as if to hold up a heart,
a burning light
to the lost child
Still Shining,
standing still
as if to hold time
a little while longer
Still shining,
standing still
Love never waives
in the yule
tidal pool of dreams
that
keeps on dreamin’
pearls
whispering
hugs 'n kisses
to a little girl
from magic shells,
worn as mermaid crowns
swimming with Silver Fin
the fuel that lights
The Lighthouse beacon
sending songs
to the absent siren
to all that is loved
a fragile child stolen
caught between
the Christmas Wars
The Christmas
of a Ghost Past
sings silent nights
calling the beautiful dream
home, the dream
that always matters most
Christmas is never stolen
the parent dresses a tree
every year, tenderly,
like adorning a fragile child
caught between
the Christmas Wars
Still Shining,
standing still
as if to hold time
a little while longer
Christmas wars
are noiseless, still
Love never waives
in the yule
tidal pool of dreams
that
keeps on dreamin’,
it prepares a feast
the fuel that lights
The Lighthouse beacon
sending a Christmas gift
some kind of treasure
what is left to measure
against all the other
expensive sparkly things
all my love
and a song
to the lost child -
a Christmas present
from the Ghost Past
to the absent siren
A Christmas Story
and a song
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Christmas
gvlm
"The Joke"/ Brandi Carlile
https://youtu.be/92puBuPRXjo
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa, Baa, Baa”
Farm country’s quite a place
Greener space and friendly smiles
My sheepdog likes to chase
Grazing flocks out here for miles
You know without sheep,
Don’t ya know I would be sad
Yeah without sheep,
I would go stark raving mad
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
And with a woolly friend, your life is never bad
They call me Miss BoPeep
I guess it’s sorta fair
Because my spoiled sheep
Get tender loving care
You know without sheep,
Don’t ya know I would be sad
Yeah without sheep,
I would go stark raving mad, ooh!
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
And with a woolly friend, your life is never bad
So you can spread the word
My stock stick waives with pride
Noisy faithful herds
Are always by my side
You know without sheep,
Don’t ya know I would be sad
Yeah without sheep,
I would go stark raving mad, ooh!
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
My sheep go “Baa, Baa, Baa”
And with a woolly friend, your life is never bad
With a woolly friend, your life is never bad
With a woolly friend, your life is never...
Bad!
"Baa, Baa, Baa"
"Baa, Baa, Baa, Baaaaaa"
The immortal wind wakens, blows and whispers
to the wynd of trees as they are wickedly uprooted
and move in confusion across the countryside in complete chaos.
Their roots scornful and unbelieving uplifted from unrest
and upheaval from their unyielding ground.
The water spans and stand, bend, and rise as Poseidon,
the god who watches with wild wonder the sea;
lift up its waves and waver and waives a forcing force
hold in mighty waves against the sand.
Then, all comes to a calm as the land sits silent from its fear
by the water's edge.
4/4/2019
Alliteration 004 (I prefer old poems)' Contest Info
Sponsor Poet Destroyer A
Wynd - Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wynd
A wynd is typically a narrow lane between houses
The Parting Couple Blew Out The Match
angry couple shaking the tree
branches of leaves crying their spree
cohabitation skips their stride
duet of steps the banshee prides
eyes so saddened harsh with could be's
faces of two, filled with wept seas
gone are the keys to their hearts glee
hails the storm of words of which deride
angry couple
incessant doom waives their decree
Judas shown their true faces free
kisses of the heart now divide
longings be forever untied
matches to a lasting flames flees
angry couple
connie pachecho
10/11/17
ballad to spring.
For little robin, red breast,
On my spade, you sit.
With bobbing head, and twitch of tail,
As another season now say's farewell.
In the bracing chill skip, sprightly,
On this sun-drenched day.
Look up towards the heavens,
And be thankful come what may.
The coming days grow longer,
With life refreshed anew.
As flecks of white and purple,
Permeate among the dew.
Erupting upward shards of green,
With heads in saffron gold,
A multitude of trumpets play,
Herald forth as spring unfolds.
Under tip of twig now freshly dipped
In a cornucopia of greens.
In waives that crest, where bluebells rest,
And one can sit and dream.
For nothing say's that spring is here,
More than posies clutched, and garlands fare.
A chick, an egg, and the mad march hare,
The wild of youth without a care.
© N Windle 20017
Written: July 29, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "You Are not a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop." by Rumi
*************
the jungle breathes as a vast pulsating lung
thunder rumbles from its heart while mist swathes
as if the ground were a relic of lost commas
it waives itself with reptiles slinking through the scrub
leaves merge in a symphony of vibrant voices
while ferns unfurl as mirage slices through the sky
akin to cherished recollections rooted
birds come together in the canopy
creating a ladder of fluttering honor
feathers show rite and respond to the rain
no map can steer this place, no compass offers balm
the vines spin a web crafted by nature's bold hand
lush foliage fosters a furrowed field
with a flowing growth and decay
seagulls alone notice ancient occult beauty
moss cloaks a worn stone as wrinkles on a giant
the jungle swallows you not from hunger
but from necessity
this tale ties you to its timeless storyline
not as a hero but as an echo