Long Waltz Poems
Long Waltz Poems. Below are the most popular long Waltz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waltz poems by poem length and keyword.
The pen bleeds words of hope, words to help one cope, words that are wide in scope, words that will never mope… words, my friend, more colorful than the kaleidoscope – by poet
The pen bleeds words of hope
silences darkness, doubt
embracing hearts with grace
hues of laughter, light, love
fears and tears to replace
The pen bleeds words of hope
gentle whispers of trust
touching passions with songs
waltz of joy through the night
promise the tune belongs
The pen bleeds words of hope
wonders felt from the heart
lighting moments with dreams
feelings scrawled from the depths
of lives spent sharing themes
The pen bleeds words of hope
promise of poems, prose
spelling rhymes throughout those
who know that love abides
inside hearts who compose
Form M - Monchielle - New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme Word 6. poetry
Used howmanysyllables.com
April 4, 2022
Evening colours
Cast deeper shades;
Moonlight nocturne
~~~~~~~~~
Sitcom drama
Good guy, bag guy;
Gangster hero
~~~~~~~~~
Pen and paper
Doodle ideas;
Birthday party menu
~~~~~~~~~
May oozes away
Finite days gone;
Scent of June waltzes
~~~~~~~~~
Kitchen bench
Ripe bananas wait;
Hunger games
~~~~~~~~~
Family album
Sepia connections;
Old time faces
~~~~~~~~~
End of fantasy
Start of reality;
Hot humidity
~~~~~~~~~
Pillow talk moments
Wee hours preside;
Sleepy conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Milton and Dante
Soliloquy and waltz;
Blindness gives sight
~~~~~~~~~
Voice echoes poise
Fragrant whispers;
Cicadas date night
~~~~~~~~~
Silly poet
Talks to himself;
Rhymes fling chimes
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
28 May 2015
Singapore
I rise from the white-wine siesta,
letting go of the serpentine songs,
like a crimson-winged dragonfly
lost in the poppy prairies of Persephone,
untangling my prisoned heart
chained by the churning
deceit of Hades’s immortal chains,
savoring pomegranate promises,
pirouetting through petrichor nirvana,
as the sky smells like a saffron rose
above the castle of emperors
dressed in fallen flowers.
Yet the diamonds sometimes are
engraved with ominous omens
and remorseless remnants,
while I return to cinnamon seclusion,
dancing to the mood of my moon.
O divine dandelion,
in your eyes I see suppressed sighs
of a splintered sunrise,
flickering balmy zephyrs of paradise,
as my soul is tied to the softness
of your delicate dusk~
like a faithful disciple,
forever following your footprints~
while velvety roots of florals
face the glows of alchemy,
amidst the array of arrows,
left as ashes of gold gone cold,
and the gracious gusts of gloaming
devouring the unscrupulous wounds
of a fragranced dawn.
I am the aching pigment
in your palette of purples,
longing for butterfly blurs
to bring me back to a
kingdom of kindness,
where I’ll forever breathe tender lilies
rinsed with wind-swept wishes.
But amidst the clusters of jewels
and raining sakura,
tonight I choose to walk with
specters of scorching stars,
allowing curves of my scarred skin
to burn from the blazing breeze
that bleeds nefarious narratives
upon the bleached borders.
So watch me waltz into the
infernal waters of the deep, bruised bay.
There I’ll write an elegy,
for the sorrow that swallowed your spirit.
I will find an anchor to pull
you back to the land of paper lanterns
as I surrender to the
haunting hues of the horizon;
the sweet sacrifice of a beloved blackbird
singing farewell in silence
to save you from the devilish underworld.
As dandelion dreams
are designed in lucid lies,
carving my essence into wintry wires
of woes and verdicts
from the
growing vines of a
villainous valley.
I feel the blackbird weep, it’s everything
I see the blackbird quiver, it’s what you bring
dreary
d a n d e l i o n
I.
In the hush of the first movement,
Silent snowfall plays a soft overture.
Each flake a note, descending gently,
A white serenade to quiet streets.
Nature's breath slows, like a pianissimo,
And the world finds refuge in the stillness.
II.
The allegro of frostnip,
A brisk dance of biting winds.
Trees, skeletal and stark, bow in unison,
Their frozen limbs, a winter waltz.
Here, shadows wrap around the day,
A protective shroud from the harsh glare.
III.
Andante, the pace of chilled introspection,
As daylight wanes, and darkness ascends.
Winter's cloak, a shield from the revealing sun,
A sanctuary for those who seek solace.
A silent sonata of solitudinal echoes,
Footprints muffled in the snow's embrace.
IV.
Adagio, the languid drift of snowflakes,
A delicate descent, like feathers from the sky.
Time stretches, as if caught in a frozen dream,
And the world slips into a quiet reverie.
In winter's arms, a clandestine asylum,
Hidden from the stark exposure of summer.
V.
Rallentando, the gradual deceleration,
As winter's sonata reaches its conclusion.
The landscape, a canvas of muted hues,
Soft whispers of a fading symphony.
Yet, in the cold, a warmth is found,
A paradoxical embrace of winter's serenade.
Gaining muscle
Restraining lies,
It was time for a new beginning.
And though it pierced unmercifully,
the dagger still won this round.
Fresh blood eliminates the guilt and the forgiveness plunges into the ground
an eery waltz is the only sound-
remembered from the memory,
where good met a horror story
and like a one hit wonder
forgotten.
Like the sound of your transparent voice,
the scold of surroundings
and the walls' whispers-
belting out the truth
But they don't matter anymore
The microphone shattered and your hearts beating 3 times as fast
you don't seem to remember-
A comatose dream-
inexplicable.
The regrets of the other half,
reversing into the cursed walls-
Are endless,
pointless.
Sympathy wasn't ever an option-
and with an easy way out-
Blame.
Guilt becomes all else
And while your hand points out,
three fingers point right back.
When all is gone,
It's done
The end of the storm has lightened
And now the sun lies-
high in the sky-
seeing all truth
but you still sit there, smiling-
forgetting,
one by one
they
fall,
drop
down the stairs,
no railing.
And trying to pick it all back up,
you kick my back.
Losing balance seeing those eyes for the finale
And I drop it all,
hit the ground
And it took that fall
To realize at all
That Ive given up
And there's more to come.
All seasons romp through nightfall, dawn, and rain
With leaves prancing as breezes lead their way ,
A tango of summer glazes the spotlight
When boughs display a fired tap to excite.
Soon, autumn bares her petals in orange
To foxtrot with the moon, sleek like curved trees
Cascading on lanes robed in amber and gold
A rhythmic glide that makes chilled buds unfold.
Though winter mellows when snow meets the dark
December spins a waltz, pacing her gait;
Unlike springtime, raw fragrance in new bloom
Wild rumba thrills high from a floral costume.
Seasons bounce along tempos, each one rare
Welcoming cycles filled with pirouettes
Their symbol of thanks to God for nature’s dance;
Oh dames of joy, bring moments of romance!
A Season's Dance Contest, Gail Doyle
by nette onclaud
10.8.13
She, suffered in angst and a deep loneliness,
As her jasmined poertry, was new and just growing.
“What good are my poems regarding truthfulness
or honesty?”
Against seas of creative poems, puff-pretty, bright
And glowing?
The icy, winter,rains came and gave her not a
whisp of a warm answer.
Her soul and stomach did crave some reprise..
“No, no, rest, dear poetess,”….words whispered
came in the form of a mystical soul- prancer.
Then..what to do, she most freely wept!
“Stop looking for readers of my poems?”
Is there a wondrous secret being kept?
“Stop, stop”, the laughing, winter-prancer said.
“Each poem you wrote once sweetly slept in
the soft bed of your heart.”
“Let it be go now….and like a newborn eagle..
alight with freedom and depart.”
Dedicated to Joe Maverick in Australia, on the
loss of his cat, Tibbles.! Condolences.
Your kndness to me has always been
appreciated!
Huggs~Pangie
***Written sometine in my early years here***
1/6/2024
The fire burns as memories drift
To dreams that dance within its glow
The reminiscence slowly lifts
As the flames dance to an fro
The dreams that dance within its glow
Waltz slowly into twilight
And as the flames dance to an fro
The fire burns into the night
Waltzing slowly into twilight
Are dreams and memories that unfold
The fire burns into the night
As these fading dreams grow cold
The dreams and memories that unfold
Are fading as the the reminiscence lifts
And then these fading dreams grow cold
As the fire burns and memories drift
----
3/25/16
Through an ocean of thoughts that overflow like a rain of stars,
The women of this world wear their invisible crowns,
Queens of their own realms, castles of dreams and desires,
Guardians of secrets that dance through the halls of time,
Oh, how magnificent you are, stars of this vast universe!
Faithful women, God-fearing and deeply wise,
Reliable and hardworking, with love that knows no bounds,
Disciplined and with respect like a festive garment,
Oh, how magnificent you are, you who carry light in your souls!
I admire your character, a shining diamond in the foggy night,
Your loyalty and calm, an anchor in life's storm,
Exemplary, refined, elegant like a waltz by the sea,
You possess a potential that knows no limits,
Oh, how magnificent you are, you who bring hope at dawn!
You are my heroines, from your arms springs life,
I cherish your wisdom, for your advice is like gold,
Oh, incredible women, you are the stories I tell at sunset!
Women of strength and vitality, guiding me through labyrinths of shadows,
In your presence, darkness fades, and I am enriched,
Oh, incredible women, you are my compass in this world!
Your dedication and work have opened paths to a brighter future,
Women of substance and grace, my desire is to bring you joy,
Oh, incredible women, you are the verses of an eternal song!
You are my treasure, I strive to earn your admiration,
I disdain those who underestimate you,
For they cannot see how truly magnificent you are,
Oh, how magnificent you are, you who transform the world with a smile!
The jar remains still, dressed in its glass mantle like a snow globe of silent forgetting,
each broken part of me lies there, floating in my warm and crimson waters,
a lake of lost memories, a mirror of the soul seeking to find itself again.
I open the jar and try to fit each piece into the deep voids of my being,
like a puzzle of the soul, but each time, I fail again and again,
and I wonder if I will ever manage to reassemble myself, to become whole again.
My gaze stops on the silver needles, shining like stars in the night sky,
someone has separated them from their thread, leaving only silence and cold steel behind,
the crude tools of healing, without a guiding thread, just silence and the desire to mend.
I clutch the needle tightly, a silent smile forms on my lips,
now I begin to sew each broken part, the cold needle pierces the skin with care and love,
as if mending my mother's old shawl, each stitch a memory, each knot a dream.
I sew my broken parts like a sweater of the heart, with love and dedication,
to protect myself from winter's bite, when the poisoned air seeps into cracks,
I sew again, like an old sweater, perhaps I will be whole again, even if only I know the story.
Each stitch a step towards rediscovering the lost self, each knot a warm refuge,
perhaps I will become whole again, even if sewn in silence, unseen by the eyes of the world,
a waltz of needle and thread, a dancing tale of healing and self-discovery.