Long Winks Poems
Long Winks Poems. Below are the most popular long Winks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Winks poems by poem length and keyword.
One eye opens quicker than the other, so cute,
but who'll spearhead you home, me or the Neanderthal
host? Party goers head for the exit.
I seem to have sat down on a preset remote;
your laugh echoes the empty house mute.
White rain is a flat-screen,
crystalline-chilled, melting pixels.
Your other eye, I swear, winks at the storm.
A breaker, somewhere, thumbs a ride to the red zone.
Shadowy reflections of his indoor lighting
vanish from his TV
and abandon the glass of his aquarium.
Goldfish swim undisturbed
above the sediment of jagged, tiny stepping stones,
footholds for drunks to surface when bubbly
as with our host, brushing 'gainst you.
He toggles your dress by its fished out price
tag. Not my place to scan,
I blink like a readjusted lens off focus.
He sets us both out on the porch;
he's done with milking you to compliment him.
We're Banner milk bottles, side by side on the stairs.
Rain pelts milk-shiny, glassy sides. You shiver instead of going
numb and bottled up in reflections
PIN THE TAIL
O’Haggard Hoarfrost, she plays winks,
rocks on a sawhorse, tweedle-dee drinks.
Mad Merrie O’Boyle slays lightning from nails —
dazed loony-toon, wears out his flannel tails.
W’cked, their niece, says, “Take them away,” bickers,
with Midnight Judge in his moonwashed-knickers.
Their nephew, hees and haws, a blinking donkey-in-law.
O’Haggard and Merrie pinned his tail on his sacred flaws.
Force-swept, Hoarfrost and O’Boyle, under-dressed,
spoiled with lots of off-the-rocker friends to impress.
W’cked and her donkey are still looking for his appendage.
Facial features are pinned-up on the craziest stages.
5/29/2021
In the workshop of my waking hours,
I am the maker of my own day,
Crafting moments with a DIY attitude,
Twisting fate's threads with hands unbound.
At 6 AM, I pick up my tools,
Coffee grounds and ambition,
Mixing the elixir of caffeinated dreams,
Stirring in the alchemy of determination.
The clock ticks, a relentless metronome,
11:11 winks, an angelic muse,
As if the universe has a sense of humor,
A cosmic jest in numerical ruse.
"Make a wish," they say with a smirk,
As if dreams were granted in seconds,
But I'll forge my own destiny, thank you,
With sweat and grit, not ethereal reckonings.
No celestial arithmetic can guide these hands,
Turning the wrench of daily toil,
In the cacophony of self-made symphonies,
I dance with chaos, a rebel in the coil.
Lunchtime, a respite from the assembly line,
Sandwiches wrapped in brown paper,
I nibble on the crumbs of inspiration,
Savoring the taste of self-made capers.
The afternoon sun spills its golden ink,
I dip my pen into the daylight,
Scrawling plans on the parchment of possibility,
Mapping out a future, bold and bright.
5 PM, the whistle blows, a release,
Yet the DIY Day is far from done,
For in the studio of the evening,
I sculpt my leisure, a masterpiece begun.
Dinner is a feast of flavors and reflection,
A banquet of self-appreciation,
11:11 appears again, a cosmic wink,
Mocking the notion of divine intervention.
"Make a wish," it whispers with a smirk,
But I've outgrown such whimsical fancy,
For in the sweat of creation and the grind of will,
I find my muse, not in numbers but in the dance of circumstance.
So, here's to the makers of their own destiny,
The dreamers who wrested the real from fantasy,
In the DIY symphony of moments and minutes,
We find our purpose, our own sweet serendipity.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1R8nJSe8Jb0
Dreams are made of fairy dust and gold my mom once said
as she tucked me in real tight and kissed my sleepy head
you will see stars of bright and little angels baking bread
there upon a cloud, a Pegasus with wings of finest thread
Dreams are made for human bodies full of goodness, light
you can get there if you try and wish with all your might
you'll see blueberry moons with eyes that wink so bright
magic swords with pixie dust, that never fear the night
Fairies will rock you in their cradles by their garden nook
while you sleep five winks and create with just one look
up here you can be a butterfly lost in the winds of chinook
reveal most anything, be transparent as an open book
Dreams are made of fairy dust and gold my mom once said
as she tucked me in I fell asleep, with angels in my head.
Could you come over this weekend
So that we revisit from where we left it
For last time it didn't really end
You were in cloud nine when we left it
We had to leave it there for you were getting out of control
The neighbours had to come check to see if you all right
For I got to the right spots you were screaming and all
You left, and everyone now calls me Mr. Right
I'd even get winks as I'd go down stairs
And stares every time I crossed the path
It was a green light in everyone's eyes, I was in their hairs
While I wanted to be in you, tilling that mound of earth
So could you come I show you a thing or two
For last time we were unable to continue
I know you also want it too
For you kept asking what's new
I've been thinking of it too and I can't deny
I was wondering when next I could see you
But after last time it's just hard to deny
That we have to crank the volume up for you
...
The PO£T
Bluebells and bluebonnets sprinkled against the horizon
Azure sky smiles, streaks of turquoise and light blue
Delighting each other as they race in and out of the
Remnants of what is left of the bluest meadow,
The sky winks, knowing she will be changing into
Nightfall quickly. Travelling to a new place to blue up
The oceans, and show her full loveliness. Seeping into dreams.
Showing her lakes and ice floats her true color.
Some are calmed by her, which is why God selected her
To be the day sky. Some of the angels had argued for pink
But the ones who were tired of that color won the argument.
Blue polka dotted dresses, navy blue suits, blue, the boy's color.
Glorious, wonderful, soothing, powdery, pleasurable blue.
No painting is complete without her. No outfit either; dress her up
Or wear her in jeans, she is in style, and comfortable in her own skin
No matter what. Chosen by God, was blue, after all.
.
girl
yuh see my boots
i cross'd that muddy
for you
dun
wrestled that hog
got clobber'd by your
daddio
and your bruth'er
he wants sum
yuh gottuh kiss
fer
any ol' cowboy
leas'
one yourn
winks
"Light Wings and Gossamer Black"
tears of all the lost years
ghosts' pearls falling softly gossamer black
caressing your sad heart’s crimson
its bleeding broken beautiful cracks
a small heaven winks back
some of your light wings
the other side reflects
some of your light wings
a small heaven winks back
light wings sent for unholy hosts
Inside me there is always you
wormwood wisdom
the killing of time gliding
praying for aphids on the tar plain view
some of your light wings
Blue Silver, Silver Blue
Light Wings
for pearls falling
into your shining pools
spinning softly gossamer black
walking forever towards you
through silver blue
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"My Favourite Ghosts" / Bianca Strega
https://youtu.be/C01MHTTZCfs
"...Terror made me cruel" Wuthering Heights, Bronte
“The people you love become ghosts inside of you, and like this you keep them alive.”
"The ghosts of things that never happened are worse than the ghosts of things that did.”
"Ourself, behind ourself concealed,
Should startle most;
Assassin, hid in our apartment,
Be horror's least."
Emily Dickenson
Gossamer adj.
Gossamer is something super fine and delicate – like a spider web or the material of a wedding veil.
The original gossamer, from which these meanings come from, is the fine, filmy substance spiders excret to weave their webs. A dress can be gossamer-like, if its fabric is so sheer as to be see-through, or almost.
Blue Silver
"This is why Simon wrote the line "Sing Blue Silver" in lyrics for the song, "The Chauffer": as a child he read a book about time travel, and in it said that allegedly, people who are coming back from a trip in time see blue silver. It adds to the song's supernatural element."
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/12577/
https://youtu.be/8ZkEF-7I8js
Aphids.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aphid
She hung the lanterns every night
A softly pungent glowing light
In hopes amid the darkened cliffs
To warn the sailors of the gut
That churned amid the shifting tides
Some sailors claim an angel flew
Above the ship to guide it through
While others swear t’was Mermaids eyes
That rode with them through swirling surf
And it’s been said by the aged ones
It guides the Seagulls homeward runs
And winks at flocks that must migrate
To let them know they’re headed straight
The truth be told she lit the light
And placed it hanging every night
Went to bed and closed her eyes
And dreamt herself a firefly
Opaque opal- like white Moon
showing pallid face at noon.
Nascent crescent descent Moon
peeps at dusk reflecting reveries.
Maroon Half-Moon rises
arousing ripples of romance
Clouds at platoon trying
to put astral veil of mist.
Giant gorgeous gibbous Moon glazes
to enrapture night.
Abloom Full Moon in spoon full charm
makes lovers frantic lunatic.
Soon smiling couple is hypnotized
in gaudy glare and about to swoon.
Ensnared in eclipse Full Moon
slips through shadow of Earth
leaving behind sullen silhouette
sunken in starry sky
Blue Blood Moon in scarlet glow
winks in frolic flare to mesmerize.