Long Wayward Poems
Long Wayward Poems. Below are the most popular long Wayward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wayward poems by poem length and keyword.
When the night claims you like a wayward leaf of old
And it takes you to the caves where anything turns gold
You don't ask any questions and you don't dare breathe
You just follow her, like a light weight tumble weed
Down the passages of dark, down the staircase of rune
Every step a little deeper than the crevices of the moon
You can almost taste the air, on your tongue clepe
You can down the stairs of heaven in one single leap
Taking you by the waist it shall dance through you
The elixir of happiness when you're feeling down n' blue
You just thank the Lord for the magic of this gift
All you need is skin n' eyes to cross her lowly rift
When night claims you like a wayward leaf
And takes you to her caves, all etched with gold
Don't ask her any questions just go ahead and breathe
No, don't ask her anything at all, just breathe
Yes breathe
Down the passages of dark, down the staircase of rune
There is a secret mystery your mind will consume
As you dance in the twilight, where her gold is found
Each breath taken comes like a mist on sacred ground
Taking you by the waist it shall dance through you
Lead you to places where darkened skies turn blue
And soak your eyes with dazzling wondrous worlds
As it claims your breath as your night unfurls
When the night claims you like a wayward leaf of old
And lifts you with breezes through spaces untold
It will fill you with life through this night of consent
As you taste each sensation that heaven has sent
Bend to the mystery that comes with each step
And honor with silence all the caves you accept
Don't ask any questions just go ahead and breathe
No, don't ask her anything at all,just breathe
Yes breathe
contest Collaboration with Mystic Rose
12/30 /15
the stars were out that night
twinkling their song of love
in your eyes were the brightest
a grace that came from above
two young lovers hands held
a kiss ,when night meets the day
an explosion of light that makes the dawn
words that should be said are on delay
lost in life a theater of what ifs
a caravan of crossroad i pick
lies are not freedom wrapped in gifts
then re-wrapped for the next
wayward boy lonely and bruised
suffering in his own doom
thrown down and used then
washed to make new,
the stains of yesterday are the reminder
given to Christ to launder
wash clean this sinner new
like a baby to the minder
now i have come again
on the tattooed horse stitched,patched
looking for the diamond that was in the rough
a prospectors dream, one that is cut
i have found a lost love
or she has found me
typing words on the mouth of keys
never get to see the beauty of these
one could say it is meant to be
or wonder how it would be sexually
God put a pause on all these thoughts
if its true it can be his will
the stars were out that night
twinkling their song of love
in your eyes were the brightest
a grace that came from above
The wayward swimmers of the mega-rich,
Their, intrepid pools stretch longer than homes,
Filled with oddities compelled to their niche,
A place can be found in a watered ditch,
Perchance a pool, right place, and right time zone,
The wayward swimmers of the mega-rich,
Place for oddities to be like a witch,
To be amongst our kind, not throw a stone,
Filled with oddities compelled to their niche,
Then let them be, the mermaids three, their pitch,
Free to swim, to amour, steal hearts, rich tone,
The wayward swimmers of the mega-rich,
Let them swish, splash, splish, be, with hearts to hitch,
Stolen by the frigid, timid, no bone,
Filled with oddities compelled to their niche,
Such is the lives of the heartless cold glitch,
Nefarious nature mermaids are clones,
The wayward swimmers of the mega-rich,
Filled with oddities compelled to their niche,
2019 September 21
A seasonal malaise plasters
stray tendrils of wayward thought.
Another dreary gray day hovers.
Vacant is the sky, as empty as the
surface of an unwritten page.
On days such as these the mind strays
through the attic’s dusty remnants.
Times freezes mid tick.
Stale…and salt less..simpering day,
humming to the background noise of distant stars.
Age has brought with it a leathery sensation,
as crusty, picked over bundles of brashness
failing to ignite the fires of laggard thought.
Severing the ties, the starched cotton strings
of apron which held the crumbs of motherhood,
hopefully, causes a rising of, if not a phoenix...
perhaps, a cardinal of a different Spring.
Juices from a dry well, well, perhaps not dry?
Crisp, precise, if unpunctual, cookie fortunes
flutter upward, on curled strips of sugar coated white.
Who is to say, who is to be, the center
the jam in the depressed hollow of my life?
Let the mind soar for a settlement of glee.
Let it roar for the loss of flexibility and
trumpet a coming of age so rare…
for it is not madness which hovers
in the grey of dawn, or the wet bleak day,
but, the elegant solace of silver strands
their tendrils spreading unhindered
cuddled among the cue, not vacant at all.
Waiting…waiting to breathe.
It falls with grace.
Metallic bawls hail the strength of zinc roofs.
At the mercy of the thatch,
Drops drip from needle points of skeletal
Palm fronds.
Particles of rain descend on thresholds
Among dewed terrains.
The petrichor befriends the atmosphere,
Caressing limpid warmth with floating cold.
Lightning, a white dancing Anaconda, races with speed,
Filling the tenebrous plains with lights of hope.
Troubled skies ululate through the power of thunder.
I always recline on that liquid voice!
Rainmakers cream their palms
And roast fresh leaves of
Epochal petals
Plucked from somnolent trees.
Bubbles, green and full of life, puke,
Filling up the mouths of burning woods.
Grey darkness suggests the pleasant wars of
May through October,
When distant wayward drops
Trickle before the deafening deluge.
I hail the blandishments of July
For the society of fattened yams and the
Worthy tendrils —festooned confetti of ceremonial
Harvests.
Droughts yawn in vain when the attitude of
Wet seasons befriends the skies,
Yielding fecund grimes that grace the soil.
Here I am all alone on this wayward path of mine, trying to find my way back to a time that I was fine
I can see the light up ahead and I know that I am close, but first to get back to that place I must learn to let go
Let go of the past and unbind myself from these chains, I must learn to love myself and never again feel ashamed
I must walk the straight and narrow and forward on to my new life, the one that consists only of me walking into what is right
The bridge was meant to withstand all the winds of change, to stand tall against the times that I was placed in so much pain
And I know that on the other side much as a rainbow, there I will find my pot of gold, the desires of my heart, and the peace that can consume my soul
The road to this bridge has been broken and is cracked in many of the steps that I take, a lot like me it has been worn down just enough to break
But just as this road to the bridge I too can be repaired, I just need to learn inner peace and start confiding in myself and it all starts there
I must let go of the lies, the insecurities, the self-hatred that begins and ends with me
The broken dreams, the promises that never did come true, the loss and the pain and suffering and all the tears that were shed over you
The clarity, the dawning of a fresh new day, the knowing in my heart that there is a better place
The path that plays like a picture show as I walk along, just reminders that I can now be strong
That I don’t need anyone to hold my hand and wrap their arms around me, that I can love myself and be all that I need
The love that I feel, the overwhelming feelings in my once broken heart, I know that I am ready to cross this bridge and make this fresh start
As I step up to the beginning and I take my first step to the other side, I truly have no regrets, there is no changing of my mind
So, as I walk along, I say to myself “Shed the past and let go,” and when I make it over to the other side there is finally peace within my soul.
Born from captivity of man
Seeking the worldly things
To satisfy this empty void
From lies taught from mankind
That go against God's will
Blindly putting trust and hope
Into ones who belong to the earth
Sadly ,the rulers create fear
That one's might have to place trust in them.
For this world is there hope and glory
Using this short time that they might become superior
Myself, falling victim of going along
In following the wayward crowd
Until, one day when the One above
Poured the living water within
Born unto the spirit from God
Birthed unto a new family
In seeking moment by moment
To become less of what the world teaches
And more of the spirit from which Christ
Manifest and reveals the hidden mystery
That this world does not receive are comprehend
Mankind seeks glory of mankind
While the spirit seeks to give Christ glory
To become complete in wholeness
That One might through the spirit become
One with Christ
And One with the Father in unity
Not of own works but by submitting
Unto God's hands crucifying old self
That His promised spirit might
Dwell and reign within the Lord's temple
Not created by the hands of man
But through the spirit of God's majestic power
He must become greater; I must become less.” The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs to the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. The one who comes from heaven is above all.
John 3:30?-?31 NIV
Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.
John 3:5?-?6 NIV
Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.
John 4:23 NIV
Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires.
Romans 8:5 NIV
The one who keeps God’s commands lives in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.
1 John 3:24 NIV
Form:
to whom comes desire, envy, fear and rage
as question asked has the ego unmasked
wayward false self dancing on this world’s stage
who to tame, we’ve been by consciousness tasked
that ego’s useful we do not deny
but perhaps the tail is wagging the dog
the life we’re living seems to be a lie
lost in thought spirals, our mind’s in a fog
in silence as awareness self-aware
we know then we’re more than this body-mind
as a bliss mist with nothing to declare
we are in those moments divine aligned
as both spirit unbound and the ego
we use mind when needed otherwise not
what was boon is now bane so we let go
thus soaring in the sky become self-taught
to whom comes desire, envy, fear and rage
it came to ego but now to no one
transformed as living light we’ve come of age
in the timeless now shining like the sun
What sorts a box -- an enigma,
of course, what else has sauce,
when it apprised of a stigma
it eyes wherefrom the source.
Taste, touch, ... senses play the fiddle
minus some chords, off-tunes,
wayward announces a riddle,
classic ... playing the blues.
Discombobulation, a word
that creates attention,
it's a doer, that is absurd,
a giver of mention,
need not be lengthy, quite disturbed,
more elementary,
there lies the mix, that's somewhat blurred,
most complimentary.
Shorten won't baffle, nor ruffle,
may muddle or addle,
there are trickery, kerfuffle --
but snooze in a cradle,
grounds content, shovel the gravel,
make it your battleground,
make confound this awkward puzzle
by day's end be profound.
Hope that it resolves this fluster,
that sets unease, evolves,
make it a game, a tongue twister,
keep watch till it dissolves,
It'll be a throwback, bewilder
if it grows, we'll keep track,
discombobulation, blister,
made it less from perplex.
(ah miss bing amiss with former mistress)
Oh Glenda (Miz Gee gee)
years elapsed since, I didst hawk
verboten fruit adrip
from yar verdant bough,
thy strong craven raven
doth still twitter and flip
sans thy testosterone switch,
where woody pecker missus grip
ping re: egret ting prospective
relationship nixed thee
as gull friend material, hip
mistress, though heron eye did pay lip
service verily org*s mic* lee quip
yes...wren doer ring
more'n commit Freudian slip
which peeping cardinal tip
towing thru nested tulip trip
gave balled oriole peck whip
ping lil s*x pistol be
friending chirping pu**y riot
inserting thingmabob
after pants sigh did un zip.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Egg gad unlike rob bin duck cradle
yar mature red breast all aswirl
asper a stationary dreidel
ma** aery ducts mine mouth pursed
yar nipples mine gums did ladle.
Only in memory, aye
hungrily thirst and thirstily hunger
fort deux aureole dye
still affecting this gab
bird, who didst deign
as milquetoast guy.
Whenever this birdman alone
his thoughts metaphorically drone
worm wayward toward
pubic thatch, where
hello kitty doth purr and groan
of quintessentially
kinky coiled hair moan
ning softly as thee
bared naked lady lies prone
admiring pinkish puckered
def flesh tone.