Long Wisp Poems
Long Wisp Poems. Below are the most popular long Wisp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wisp poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and I didn’t care;
I had dozens of latkes I had to prepare.
The menorah was ready, with candles to light,
Waiting there by the window, a wonderful sight.
The presents were wrapped and I lined up the dreidels;
The soup was a’bubble, with floating knaidels.
The applesauce waited to chill in the fridge
In a Chanukah bowl. (Yes, I tasted a smidge.)
The cookies were baked like my grandmother taught,
(So much better than any that anyone bought)
Shaped like candles and dreidels and six-sided stars;
There were plenty to fill cookie platters and jars.
When I suddenly sensed there was something the matter.
I raced to the kitchen – the oil was a’splatter!
For while I was fixing the festive display,
I should have been frying (not quite my forte).
The first batch of latkes was burnt to a crisp
And smoke filled the kitchen (much more than a wisp),
But tying my apron for take number two,
I ditched all the burnt ones and knew what to do.
I lowered the flame and reheated some oil,
Plopping spoonfuls of batter I wouldn’t let spoil.
Then I conjured my childhood and Chanukahs past,
When I had no idea years would fly by so fast.
And I pictured my nana and grandma, as well
As my parents, my grandfathers and Aunt Sydelle
And my brothers and sister and cousins galore
And my uncles and aunts I’ve not mentioned before.
While my latkes were frying, so crispy and gold,
I remembered how Chanukah used to unfold,
When we played with our dreidels and gathered our gelt,
In our family’s embrace and the love we all felt.
So I cooked the new latkes with patience and care,
Knowing that with my kids and my grandkids I’d share
All the pent-up emotions I’ve hidden inside
With a platter of latkes, now perfectly fried.
And to all who will celebrate Chanukah time,
I do hope there’s a lesson for you in this rhyme –
For the very-best feelings our childhoods instill,
Through traditions, our hearts and our bellies will fill.
December 7, 2022
In a room alone, suddenly you see two bright eyes peeking inside.
But vigilant eyes find only a sheath of light.
Still you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
Going up on thirteenth floor in an elevator.
Look up and you know it would surely shoot up in the sky.
Landing safely…….you wonder…..it is what it is or………is it?
Walking through will-o'-the-wisp and creaking woods.
You realize someone is walking behind.
Turn back and find no one around.
Shuddering badly you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
When your love for swimming makes you dive.
Deep inside, you see bubbles all around.
And those scary water creatures waiting to trap.
But then you see calm and clear water.
Still you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
Scary Cumulonimbus clouds morph like billowing sea.
And that flying ship sailing over your head!
Blinking your eyes……you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
Date:29th Nov; 2020
It is what it is..............or is it??? Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Emotional depression had set in;
A world of calamity that grew dark.
The mystical light was stifling, nights stark,
Blessings of peace in a bottle of gin.
Dark wisp of wrath kindled a plea to flee.
Extinction of self as he walked with pride
Through vast ocean tides, I became a bride.
Lull dream, a perfect soul-mate weaved forth, free.
Neath the still lingering velvet twilight
Holding a portrait of the two of us.
My mournful mind wanders without a fuss.
Sweet scent of love, my memories I write.
Quiet and peaceful with poetic love,
Tearful grief embraces you from above.
10/22/2023
This late morning's high noon scaling, steeply-ascending, ragged herald
Hauls himself upwards into the roaring expanse of the dizzying sky
To chance upon this, might though his very soul should be imperiled,
When lording over which is constrained within a dispassionate, encompassing eye.
From the feathered throat abruptly pours such Mellifluous harmony
As, lifting higher and higher, he negotiates a ledge inside a wisp of
broken cloud;
Those rich, dulcet notes, more decidedly sweeter than any liquid honey,
Irresistibly flowing Earthwards... a continuous symphony of unparalleled sound.
His alone the rushing glory! His alone this almost unattainable niche!
For up here, rarified and raw, the air is breathless and sparse where thins.
Then the song fully enveloping the shrunken patchwork of fields beneath...
Whereon, delivering forth from bursting lungs, that final triumphant salvo
he heroically flings.
BIOGRAPHICAL :
Favorite Artist – a biography of me; being an artist has let me see and feel into my human self
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/favorite_artist_1197475
A Vision of a Child - Catholic, recite my rosary every night, a desire to be closer to Christ
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_vision_of_a_child_618986
Batter UP - tribute to my nine-year-old granddaughter and her love for sports and desire to succeed, my constant companion
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/batter_up_676545
White Roses Subtle Elegance - written for my son and his new wife of their wedding day, I finally didn't have to worry
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/white_roses_in_subtle_elegance_1191614
My Alphabet - poem I published, used as a teaching tool for preschools and kindergartens
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/my_alphabet__701180
Admiration for the Person You Have Become - dedicated to my three sons that I cradled in my arms and wish I still was
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/admiration_for_the_person_you_have_become_762345
Tribute :
Abandon – tribute to my husband, his love for the woods; my first experience of the Callahan Mountains
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/abandon_1035103
GRIEF :
The Voices Echo in Emptiness - inspired by the lonely nights that kept me awake with images of him
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/_the_voices_echo_in_emptiness_1091596
Wisp of Love - about my heartfelt mournful emotions I was feeling
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/wisp_of_love_1221138
Christmas Mourning – the hollow feelings I was experiencing on the first Christmas without my husband
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/christmas_mourning_1089154
4/19/2020
10 POEMS THAT DEFINE ME (that's your title) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
I watch you.
Wondering back and forth, gathering twigs and berries. Bringing to life a place only you allow your thoughts to wonder.
Although serious. I admire you alot.
I know if I was in your position I wouldn't walk through these woods alone.
I've seen alot of things though. Alot of the world's ill's that wisp through the echo of the trees,
I even watch the quirky things that you do without realizing.
The quirky cute things that you often pay no attention to when you do them then say "what" like nothings ever happened.
Like stopping to smell the daisies instead of the roses.
Splashing in a puddle of leaves then watch then scatter one by one.
Laying there without a care in a world.
All appearances are not what they seem.
As the world itself is a crazy place.
Sometimes you need that. To step outside of yourself and just play every once in a while.
The journey to grandma's house isn't a long one.
But the next time you stop and whisper your secrets to the birds and the wind flutters your coat.
I'd like very much to feel your hand rub through my fur.
And protect you on your way to grandma's house.
Maybe let you ride on my back
The world got caught under her breath
They could never hear her precious mumbling, only realized when she left
One second she was there
One second she was floating in timeless air
In a wisp of whimsical space
She would show her elegant face
A polaroid of a perfect smile
Commanding regretful tears and remembrance of all the distant years
Her blood was on the hands of many,
No one predicted the coming tragedy
Her life not quite a blissful blur
But rather a silent stab of sadness
She left no note or collective clues
That might have calmed you
No lying lyrics that provoked pointless pity in
Some that might have said torturing her was comedy
She only left a small reminder to anyone who could find her
And that is this…
“Dying is easy my friend, living is harder.”
Butterfly, butterfly, with grace and sway
expose to the world your gentle way
Delightful wisp in a gentle breeze
lifts you higher with graceful ease
Rapture image romance inspires
gives rise to my heart’s desire
Float ever so gently back down to earth
enlighten the world of your glorious worth.
Meekly fluttering from flower to flower
angelic image does strangely empower.
Ray of sun enhance the beauty of your majestic wings
gently pulling and raising wondrous voices to sing.
Magical moments Mother Nature created
drawing a pause; wonderful images stimulates.
Though tempest storms may came you way
your graceful wings lift’s you above the fray.
When they seek to bring you harm
you float away with grace and charm.
O' what sad day, tears I fight
you flew away-- out of my sight.
Beneath a blazon sky birthed by flames
this beautiful Monarch thus so named.
Way down deep in the cushiness of the Germany forest
There is a mystical dwelling built by U.M. Borest.
Some of the oldest oaks are fully aware that it is there.
Designed by a worrisome sorcerer with super coarse hair.
Borest is a Bumpfraut, who can disappear at will.
He can invisibalize his home, changing it to pickle dill.
You might sense a mushroom house lurking in soft moss
It is not visible to everyone, especially not to those who are cross.
I can tell you nothing else because forest secrets are deep
If you hear loud snoring though U.M. Borest is asleep.
It’s best to tiptoe past the oak and use whispers near the trees.
If you are lucky you might catch a wisp of a brownie in the breeze.
The thought of her I cannot touch
Though daylight’s shadow’s stirring such
That mystic gleam of fickle night
Whose depthless colour finds delight
A glimpse of her I cannot keep
No more than shards of vesper’d glee
Splashed across ole midnight’s sea
Have flickered through eternity
The wisp of her I cannot feel
No more than autumn in the world
When leaves have fallen on the rye
Golden brown beneath the sky
The name of her I dare not speak
When angles do for virgins weep
Their tears but riffles in the night
Of rose like crimson on the rise
When brakes a blushing in the sky
Beyond the hills to steal the night
The thought of her I cannot touch
No more than words can utter such
Like gentle kisses of a rose
Whose peddles sail betwixt the shoals
And sailing then beyond the sea
Shall bloom again resplendidly.