Long Whisk Poems
Long Whisk Poems. Below are the most popular long Whisk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whisk poems by poem length and keyword.
From stark equinox, a cold wind blows
Maiden Winter closes the final rose,
Now she stands at the frosted gate
Decked in pristine robe so ornate
Dusted leaves drift from balding trees;
Crowning tiny pearls of arctic breeze.
Her wand sparks pale Eos’ quiet thrill
Quilts of eyelids wake on threadbare hill,
Soon kingdom’s carpet will turn to steel
And dashes of fairies pour a misty reel.
All snow -bound hours and icy nights
Blinkies*, a million twinkling lights
Scatter their magical flakes once again,
For powdered toes to whisk on capped lane.
And so the frigid bouquets will cling
Till crystals explode across Beira’s* wing.
©
*Eos- Greek Titan goddess of dawn
*Blinkies—Jamaican term for fireflies
*Beira—Celtic goddess of Winter
Fairy Tails Contest by nette onclaud
Asclepius, one cannot build from sand,
Such light and shifting grains as mortals be.
The wind and tide shall warp what e’er is planned,
Foundations fade before the pounding sea.
And yet, when grains of sand flow through my hand,
I smile at warmth and richness I know not.
Through falling columns have the sea I scanned,
As through a fog, and this the vision brought.
Once, weary, weary, weary on the sea,
One weary, wandering sailor, long away.
‘Tis torpor, tempest, tedium, weary he,
When wind-whipped waves whisk words on salty spray.
“Rain-hardened sailor, welcome now,
The ocean storms here mend their ways.
No lonesome mists embrace the prow,
Here glegful otters tend their bays.
This oaken isle, this Avalon,
O’er the futile, beating sea;
This dream-cast realm, this jewel at dawn,
Where thought is regal, talent free.
And here beyond the reach of might,
Where ancient tribal flaws decay,
With cobbled streets and spires alight,
New thought, new form, new love, hold sway.”
When whence these words surveyed had he,
Before his eyes a visage be.
‘Twas older than eternity,
That face that sank beneath the sea.
In our great little retirement community
They're dropping like flies around me
Need to break free, must get out this place
It's Heaven's Waiting Room you see
Don't matter if you're healthy as all get out
The grim reaper knows where you live
He's as anxious as hell to whisk you away
And you really have just one life to give
So ignore the guy that's waiting at the door
Do all the things you've always wanted
Relentlessly time keeps marching forward
It's progress remains undaunted
Keep ahead of the game, of that final day
Laugh at that guy with the sickle
Tell him you'll call when your good and ready
This existence can be oh so fickle
O, weeping willow shed your sorrow
on whispering breeze to soothe your grief
within whose breath's a healing yarrow
to whisk away tears upon your leaf.
Sweet rustling zephyr embraced in sway
as misty-eyes sigh mournful wind-song,
a wistful heart in bosom ballet
with shadows dancing as currents throng.
Weep not, soulful shimmer 'neath sun’s gold
for chartreuse vines fly the west wind's bend,
enlightenment seeps in roots to hold
as yarrow's pink kisses blown to mend.
Susan Ashley
August 13, 2018
~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 1
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Lemme titillate thee
regarding myself daily soldiering thru breastworks
read out loud to experience where dangerfield lurks
twenty five years a husband unknown marital perks
bachelorhood to die for, cuz warp and weft
courtesy webbed and wedded bliss
incorporates life threatening quirks.
Hazardous beyond belief
analogous crossing a landmine good grief
ensnared yours truly mistaken for Baghdad thief.
Impossible mission to step up pace
when ambling one room to another
footfalls of generic guy approximating brisk,
cuz one misstep could find me flat on back
with damaged spinal disc
worse fate than experiencing
strong arms of law reach out his hands that frisk
old meister wordsmith
merely ventures innocent risk,
yet may as well surrender self to Taliban,
who would willingly whisk
Garden variety Caucasian American bloke
afraid to tread amidst belongings strewn
pell mell outranking rating tornado 5 courtesy
enhanced Fujita Scale
whereat Good Housekeeping ostracized spouse.
As precautionary safeguard, I carry amulet
to ward off ill luck toward life and limb you bet,
especially when gingerly
taking one step after another with lights turned off
owing steadfastness to prayerful debt
intoned toward guardian angel to get
self groping in dark without bifocals
envisioning severely myopic
(blind as a bat generic guy
without spectacles) met
bedded objective where
menagerie of stuffed animals
(albeit Woodstock favorite pseudo pet),
which aforementioned Peanuts character
called warm fuzzy as sobriquet.
The missus bursts out laughing,
whom I damnably scoff at and berate
as I trip head over heels
cursing said spouse ever since first date
at Tex-Mex restaurant
in North Wales, Pennsylvania,
a gut level intuitive sense -
even then our sealed fate
cursed analogously crashing thru Hades gate
antagonistic altercations in actuality
displaced suppressed anger toward parents,
which father and mother (both deceased)
their sole son of did hate
for afflicting psychological trauma
regarding them furiously irate
doling out ultimatums
interestingly enough comfort found
within company of loving mate,
she weaseled compassion
evidenced by poetic prattle I prate,
whereat ye can (of course) highly rate
feedback I eagerly await.
I never knew angst to be so devilish a thing
Taking me from a million clean years,
To ABC house of booze, because,
My blood money was abused by him
Wrecking the Kia Sportage I was strapped in
A passenger, pained to point of surgeries.
And on a rainy morning he swore resenting
Driving me to physical therapy,
And before the settlement, made his request:
"...Do my bathroom floor like yours."
And half of what I got was to be his
He carved such rules I broke in time
And kept secret what figures were mine.
But, lo and behold I sat pondering, counting pennies
And the devil drove me to think...
I should drink to that
All I got, and shared, and fail to stash.
Who knew Canadian whiskey would whisk me to detox?
And I, a recovering addict/alcoholic chose house of God
In AA I'd sit with alcoholics sharing what they drank,
How, when, where.
I'd rather say never again.
*
from your first born, when you grab a dusting of talc, crushed with late night feeds, stirring in bouncing and stories on a knee,
adding a layer of stumbled steps, with a batter thickly made of learning to say “No”, doughy rings of crossed arm tantrums,
glazed slowly with parent’s evenings and bringing first dates home (sprinkled with questions from Dad) before adding candles for sweet sixteens and exam results,
packaged carefully in a ribboned box to protect from life in a university dorm, your tears adding moisture to an increasingly distant mixture,
silver lace can be wrapped around to celebrate a wedding, supporting that newly added layer of Mr and Mrs, matching mortar boards made from icing, surrounded by love heart shaped chews,
you buy an electric whisk when your hands hurt from stirring, still rustling up cookies for grandchildren using grandma’s special sugar, butter and flour,
until you go back to the trusted cookbook, scattering gold dust over fifth birthday cakes, dyed icing and sponge into the colours of a superhero – a grandchild’s eyes bigger than their belly,
your cakes gradually change from pottery to silk, from gold to diamond, for your anniversaries past, you contemplate making a Victoria sponge in black, allow yourself to grieve your husband’s last,
until a great grandchild grins and brings you a cupcake all aglow, revealing a one hundredth birthday candle which is your very own to blow
Supine ink sea spreads far searching for the skyline,
shore’s sheen allures the curling waves to adorn
the sun-soaked blonde beach with strings of pearl.
Surfing winds surge, can’t whisk sands from my hand,
I build castle on the shore, I’m not a far off island.
Windows open on the wide visage of the world,
each new sunburst day comes in my life tinged,
turns to silvery stream of dream in full-moon night.
If you search for my sunk love flowing you past,
you’ll find my heart afloat, I’m not an opaque recluse.
A bird of rhapsody, I fly in the seamless smoky sky,
soar on the winter music of the frosty wind.
I can still see the shining slice of sun in my heart,
melting my chilled passion that cascades on you.
You can hold me, I’m not a frigid glacier.
Turning times’ insane show has not ended yet,
spotlights glare on the transformed facades of fraud,
finding fake place to survive in the archive.
I walk confused in the museum of masked figures,
a mute misfit, I’m not a wooden antique.
_____________
Written August : 9, 2019
December 30, 2022
Contest : A Freed Verse
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Cinderella could never compete with Dorthea
Her skin so beautiful, I wanted to cry at her birth
We were all overcome because she was a rainbow baby
Today is her first prom, how did this happen?
I look at my wife. She’s just a baby! I say.
She can’t go to prom!
She is seventeen, my wife argues.
Dorthea comes down the stairs.
Awe catches in my throat.
I have to blink back tears.
She is no longer five.
Where is her Disney princess purse?
What happened to the giggling eight-year-old?
Where is my twelve-year-old tomboy?
I glare at the young man who comes to whisk her away.
She is a princess, too good for him and millions of others.
Get over it, my wife says.
She’ll be going to college next year.
I begin plotting our move to Columbia, Missouri.
She is not going without her daddy!
Blue Chix de Fluff"
The Catered Affair
Ground chicken meat about 4 cups
4 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/3 cup of minced onions
1/3 c of parsley flakes
1 teaspoon of black peper
1/2 t salt
1 T ground ginger
3 T onion powder
1 teaspoon of paprika
2 T dried rosemary
1 T of Thyme
1 c of mayo
1/2 c of panko bread crumbs
1 T hot sauce
mix well set aside
or using a cookie sheet wrap in plastic wrap and spread mixture evenlly and chill.
2 cups of uncooked smoked picnic ham
in a food processer mix until almost a paste
add 1 T cayenne pepper
1/3 c of heavy cream
5 T mayo
4 egg yolks
3 T cognac
3 T white grape juice
1 t of lemon
3 tablespoons of chopped white raisins
1/4 c of pickled olives
1/4 c of crumbled cooked bacon
1 c of sauteed mushrooms
3 T of minced garlic
1 cup of sauteed onions minced
mix to create a paste like
remove
whisk 4 egg whites stiff
fold into shoulder mix
on the chicken cookie sheet
in the center add 12 slices of swiss cheese
10 slices of sliced ham
in the middle add the fluffed up shoulder meat mixture
roll the into a log
sealing alsides
cut into 11/2 inch pieces
standard egg wash batter sequence.
fry golden brown and place on cookie sheet cook 14 to 20 minutes.
sprinkle top with crumbled bacon
and top with a hollandaise or Dijon, Crème sauce with fresh chopped chives
serve with either fries or mash potatoes and gravy.