Long Warily Poems
Long Warily Poems. Below are the most popular long Warily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warily poems by poem length and keyword.
When I read
that we are all sculpted
upon his image
the first imprint appeared in front of my cognition
is that one of the parts sliding down the conveyor belt
just like at Fiat's
little pieces dropping in paper boxes
warily inspected
obsessively revised
senselessly omitted
from with white gloves wrapped hands
among those nude paper covers
suddenly your path doesn't seem so mysterious anymore
it's circular
and there we are
circularly crossing over your first creatures hands
with their perfectly white gloves
they were the first one
they should have been left the first one
but you just had that need to prolong the game
and implement some new rules
expecting that products will behave
according to the implemented protocols
and your workers will hold their hands white
then
an apple occurred
some overdriven laborer
dropped it from his lunch box
onto that moving rubber platform
and everything went wrong
one hands turned black
other white hands in desire to maintain themselves clear
withdrawn from that rubber
leaving parts unsupervised
and boxes exposed to putrefaction
due to a single touch
some good parts are falling before they even reached the boxes
other good ones became damaged by the fall
or are dropped in incorrect packaging
some malfactured one's reach the boxes
and are sent side by side with good ones
everyone knows
what happens when mildewed wall leans on the dry one
knowing that our price is devaluing
according to the decay stage
you keep amusing yourself
deliberately pushing from time to time
that wrong button
just to remind us
how we are
easily corrupted goods
The cat eyed the dog, warily
The dog licked his lips, hungrily
The cat backed away, tremulously
The dog edged forward, intimidatingly
The cat retreated faster, alarmedly
The dog zeroed in on her, aggressively
The cat let out a screech, panic-strickenly
The dog leaped for her throat, murderously
Let's pause this video clip, momentarily
And ask a couple questions, inquisitively
Why did the dog want to kill the cat, instinctively
And why didn't the cat beat a hastier retreat, curiously...
(Please click to restart the clip)
The dog paused in mid-air, hesitatingly
The cat sighed a little sigh, relievedly
The dog smiled a faint smile, sheepishly
The cat me-owed once, tentatively
The dog's smiled widened, perceptibly
The cat shed a tear, joyously
The dog hugged the cat, lovingly
The cat basked in his embrace, snuggly
Finis
May 09, 2019
Do the eyes see, or does the mind perceive
What shadows creep warily upon the eve
What forgotten past horde our gainful years
What winged doom bearers rouse our darkest fears
While doubts fester in the fields of the failed legionnaire
And fallen angels flock about thy desperate prayer
Know, aback the world dreaming dragon, I'll be there
Arisen from the dust and decay of The One's, promise broken
I am all that, of which mean, "power", awoken
The wailing grief of shadows fallen where darkness dare
Cleaved in twain by the righteous sword's gleaming glare
Nigh falls the last darkling felled to the abysmal deep
Goeth now from fretful slumbers to restful sleep
For, nor even death himself may reap
thy mortal soul
Whilst I stand guardian; the sacred fold
Rarely not windy
In the far flung
Squarely unfairly unsung
Seriously deliriously magical
Mystical..mythical Catlins
Rather adept at being
Scarily palaver kept..
Wild & warily windswept
Gusts crept not
Slowing then leapt
Boom & bust thrust lust
Not caring us despairing
Sussed trussed trees cussed
Unruly unjust showing growing
Glaring..nonplussed
Haring..not fussed
Duly well &
Truly cruelly blowing
A helluva Hooley
Mean flurry of almost obscene
Breeze seems in no hurry to ease.
Smashed...whacked...bashed.. smacked
Lashed...by gusting...busting galloping gales
Never fails to leave me blustered and flustered
Lolloping..at the end of my tether
Amazed by crazed walloping weather
Raised & mustered
Brazen Mother Nature dolloping
All turned to custard
Surely they will pass...these fast blasts can't last
No need to be cryptic..it's almost apocalyptic
Have we sinned against the god of wind
Feel the real deal glee of Taw Fee Ree (Maori God of Wind)
Maybe he might hear me...respond to this plea...
Help our plight...let us alight from
The fight against the fright
Flight of breezy bite blight..
Just some respite
But it is quite a sight
Wild fling..Aotearoa spring can bring..
Darkness & light
Centre staging..in the raging...roaring..rampaging forties
No point deploring..knocking..ignoring
Shocking haughty windy warlocks
Soaring..scoring..rocking the joint
Warring.. doing their naughty thing
If I had but one last sorrowful day of my life left,
there would be words I would say without delay.
Too long have I struggled, uncertain and bereft,
my tongue silent as though mired in a pit of clay.
Until now, I found myself sifting sand from my soul.
Now, willing to bare my heart's unavowed affection,
I must find the bravura to proclaim it and be bold,
and yet I find myself fearing your gentlest rejection.
Time warily squandered shall never be returned.
So, I'm seeking courage to reveal what I am feeling,
while hoping my sweet ardor shall not be spurned
nor the love for you that I have long been concealing.
Gleaming are stars hovering aloft in evening skies,
but if gathered together, never could they outshine
the luster I descry in the fulgent light in your eyes
when the beat of your heart and mine finally align.
When the pale moon rises to Heaven at zenith height,
its glorious beauty shall emerge from a lunar eclipse.
Not as seductively alluring to be with you on the night
when alas I shall feel a kiss from your sensuous lips.
Thereafter, sunlight shall yawn on the edge of dawn
but your love shall warm me more than his golden rays.
No greater fire is there to be compared with love born
by your searing touch that easily sets my heart ablaze.
If this is but a fantasy, I dare not lift tremulous eyes to see
the response to my avowal, if on your face it is defined.
I shall not bear the heartache if you turn away from me,
for then it would be a benediction, if my eyes were blind.
January 29, 2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written in 2016
for a contest sponsored by John Hamilton
Walked through the woods today, I heard the most miraculous melody. So I ventured towards the direction of this beautiful music.
As I approached I saw a bard playing a lute as if angels were singing.
He was surrounded by all kinds of critters and birds, one even sitting on the head of the lute. I wished not to disturb them, so I crouched down behind a tall oak tree, as soon as I did, the bard sang out, “hello friend, why don’t you join us?” Surprised at his awareness of my presence, I stayed silent.
He then placed his lute against the log he was sitting on and said, “come, come join us.” Reluctantly I slowly and warily approached the log with moss on it that he was sitting on.
So I sat beside him and asked, “are you a magician of some kind?” He laughed and retorted, “no, I am just one with this forest of beings. then holding out his hands with strange looking mushrooms, he said, “take these, for these will allow to see the faerie land that I live in.” Hesitatingly, I thought why not!
So I took them, and within 15 minutes or so I was transformed into another realm. one where faeries were flying all over the place. And then the king of faeries, Duran, approached me saying, “so what do you think of our real world “? He then added, “there are many worlds that you have not discovered yet, but at least you now know there is more than one.”
White Wolf
The long flow of lines
from corner to corner
from tomb to the tomb.
To be marred by taint
like bat in the sun
and child in the womb
the tenuous flesh, unknown alone
foo far from comfort, too close
to death, as earth's filament spin
a new tragedy, the market suddenly
is an alien space thick woven in suspense:
this virus does not discriminate among shoppers
so be careful not tripping over
its red carpet.
Has the end of world come?
Can we rise up against it?
Or sign a peace treaty with it?
The dead keep piling under the onslaught
we're in retreat.
Skipping the market pierces my mind as our
progress to entrance screeches to a halt by
a coughing sound from behind, turning
our lines into a tavern brawl,
like a new herd community withstanding
a hurricane without winds and
forest fire without flames.
Has God appointed it to put us to the test?
Entering, the market looks completely dead
as vibrant as a funeral parlor
with shoppers looking warily, breathing heavily under their masks,
humanity's new visage, crushed by fear, and terror -- 'to cannon
all men are equal'.
Our new mantra, the three Ds: death, doldrums, and defeat.
Exiting the twilight zone, my mundane activity a harrowing, heroic effort,
bursting with hallucination. Driving past the stoic faces in the line,
it's fear peaking not the virus.
Intermingled threads of my fantasies pour
from the ink of my love on the bare soul
of the letter I write for you, my beloved
The windowpane sparkles moonlit dreams
And I submerge into my visions of you
You, my moon bound to your services
Make me wonder how I would write
All the love-soaked words I've never said
I had questions that submerged in tides
Propelled by divine celestial waves
I forgot to savor the fragrance of lilies
That intertwine into my desolate bed stand
Perhaps you will be gulping your tea
When this letter relishes the touch
Of your frozen fingers looking for warmth
You might inhale the aroma of my love
Dripped in my waxing and waning hopes
Rosy shades of mellowed sunrise
Prompt my hopes to flutter and fly
Away to a land where you reside
I have spent last night tossing them
In solicitude of your awaited letter
My feet took a hundred strides
to the door that I opened warily
I await your reply to quench my love
I am the sun that follows her moon
Eclipsed by unending galactic cycles
Let me drape myself in your love
Let your letter wait at the corner
Until I've told you my anxiety faded away
I've been onlooking the desert roads
Oh should I merge into them in daylight
To kiss the path your letter traverses
This time I hope it remembers at last
My name and address on this frayed street
Let it bring to me your smooth embrace
The sun, exhausted of the chase for moon
Over these centuries, awaits the end of eclipse
Drenched in my fears I whisper at sunset,
"Let my love engulf me in soothing waves"
....The sun and the moon in a golden Aurora, unite,
Your letter arrives before you colored in lilac twilight.
*A tribute to the tumultuous emotions of a soldier's wife*
May 26, 2020
The Sun And The Moon Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
~~Premiere Contest Winner: 4th Place
BRIAN'S CHOICE V,any form,any theme Contest
~~Winner: First Place
To have your picture on the face of a stamp,
Is a honor reserved for the ones who cultivated change
Among the mèlange of inspiring faces,
Lays the face of someone who served on the basis,
Of freedom
Behind a small black and white picture,
A mighty face lays
With eyes of a fighter,
eloquent hair, neatly parted
The words,
Black white
Trust danger
Defiance hope
All line the bottom
Words of hope, words of courage
That picture is of a strong willed soul
Oh what a wonderful life, one bloke stole
Late at night, she deployed her clandestine runaway
With peers, she warily walked, not knowing where she was destined
Little did she know,
She would make this trip many times again, not knowing what each bestowed
Harsh winter nights, where the breeze grew as cold as coal,
She walked, walked and walked
Till’ days grew into the lines of a bole
She is a freedom fighter
She is a activist
She is a mother
She is a motivator
She is Harriet Tubman
Usps Stamps Poetry Contest - 07/04/25
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
I peer quite nervously about,
to wonder at the goings on,
how much of what is said,
is speculation on my part,
and how this dwelling rose,
from a clouded past milieu,
tales of the apocryphal I’d guess,
imagination stirred off course,
uncanny gothic motto purblind,
blue ink mist curtain veil stoke,
vivid mind’s black night visual,
amulet of congested fantasy,
macabre plot on the strain,
what surreal restlessness within,
dormant interregnum cast,
yet one seems drawn toward,
that dim lit swirling sight,
nest for midnight dervish,
and other brazen species,
dare I enter from afar,
perforce I court danger,
when nosey to a fault,
but therein lies the trap,
to be fascinated is one thing,
to stray beyond another,
why would one be so tempted,
by an entity with dark omens,
superstition is a term used,
to smear that which is unknown,
it is however justified,
when carefully used methinks,
a shrouded raven perched,
stoic, solemn sage as sentry,
ravens circulating chimney top,
symbolic ghost appearing numb,
somehow I cannot summon,
pluck up that innate gumption,
to confront a crippling fear,
before it duly swallows me,
now I feel driven without rein,
zany impulse at the whelm,
enigmatic pathway underfoot,
reluctant step a heavy booth lurch,
shattered eaves, torn leaves,
giant concrete slab tumble,
frail broken window smithereened,
taut ghoulish splinters glisten,
I dash against elemental angst,
when peeping warily into the void