Long Woody Poems
Long Woody Poems. Below are the most popular long Woody by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Woody poems by poem length and keyword.
Within the swirling currents of stars
He materializes, a silhouette against chaos
He is the whisper throughout time of stories untold
Worn out boots pound the cracked pavement
The echoes of centuries ripple beneath him
He carries a heavy urgency within his heart
He carries the truth, secrets, and all the lies
In the alleyways where shadows conspire in silence
Sleepy eyes wide awake in the rising dawn
Boisterous laughter falters, the world stills
That moment suspended, all breaths held in
This traveling Starman opens his mouth to speak
Pausing showing his sad eyes meeting doubt
"Time is such a fragile entity" he states
"Yet it bends for those who dare listen"
He is the only sound heard, the voice of time
He outlines all that has led up to now
For his people, because to them he is a God
And The Savior is here to warn the tides
"Protect what you love and abandon frivolous material"
"Keep thy community strong and your house stronger"
"Do not worship false idols, do not give into temptation"
"And tempted you will be, The Whispering Storm is near"
Subtle gasps quickly hush as everyone huddles closer
Everyone's heart beats faster than time itself
"What lies in the Whispers of Winds is the truth"
"The truth spun drastically for one to believe"
And the legends tell once you believe there is no alternative
Your Soul becomes part of this ever-growing storm
And it becomes evil...It becomes the death...
As all you love will get swallowed with who believes
He ends with starlit tear drops falling from his eyes
For he has seen the power of the storm, he almost believed
He almost gave into temptation if it weren't for those he loved
So he protected them in the end, love prevailed his time
He turns and slowly glides past the masses of His people
Questions being thrown from every direction go unanswered
Because the only answers have to come within ones self
And those answers carry the weight of this world
Into the folds of existence upon untraveled paths
He fades...Fades away to another time, another place
Leaving only the echo of his words within their hearts
Leaving to where he knows he can never return
Because he already knows the outcome...
Written for poetry contest "Starman" on 11/18/2024
Hosted by: Tom Woody Form: Dramatic Verse
PLACED 5TH PLACE IN CONTEST
Monah Kaur and Robert Kumar fled from London, came to ‘Hindustan’; tied the knot
The 'Singhs' stopped their songs and 'Kumars at no. 42' burnt their studio; this rebellion; they will forget not
A petite piece of land was gifted by Uncle Prem to mark their freedom
With much thought the newly wed called it Garden of Eden
They cleared the plot from crawling matters and built a woody farm house
Within a year, Monah gave birth to twins; Lisa died; Minnie who survived became quiet as a mouse
The air around still polluted in invasion and many cuffed in iron
The sun and moon fairer than in London but nothing seemed fine
The couple laboured and fostered peaches for Mr. Big Ben; returned home clad in blisters
Minnie cried; and cried; her parents had no time and she desired a couple of sisters
In financial distress the duo approached the heroic Farmer Bachan to assist his flock
Pleased with their dedication he gifted them a Peacock.
Minnie cried louder now, seeing this English present; she wasn’t a fan
Bachan who was fond of the child, sent her way, a young Indian Peahen
Minnie’s tears lost its way in the Ganges as the new birds found their click
Around Christmas added to the family was a cute hybrid Pea-chick
What adorable ‘chana’ like eyes had she!
Without delay, Minnie named her Chick pea
Eden now a 'Rangoli'; 'Ranisas' and 'Nawabs' soothed in ‘Masala’ tea
All engrossed in the lights and sweetness of Diwali; no attention paid to the growth of The Serpent on that Apple tree.
Those daffodils patented to Wordsworth, danced in the air
In its abode, the serpent watched Eden, what a scare!
One morning, Minnie fetched a Brown ladder to reach the tree which dazzled with rounds of juicy red
The ladder attacked and killed; the child returned home badly bitten, almost to eternal slumber she bled
Bachan’s sheep strayed to the road that was not to be taken, decreased from many to few
Eden cried for The Good Shepard; The Foreign Raj ruthlessly bottled native stew
Prayers were answered and on a Tiger came a Flying sheriff called ‘Shroff’
Bedecked in turfy ‘ceps’ and ‘pecs’; this essence fought in ‘huff & puoff’
Over time; in years almost equal to Tendulkar's century; the Serpent grew wicked miles
The gladiator fought till his last breath, excreting the treacherous reptile back to the British Isles
Long Ago,
I gave my life to a vision beauty,
And it ruined and blessed my life forever,
I met a taskmaster, who was relentless,
He showed me my sin, sin after sin, and I could barely bare it,
But through it all his still small voice said, “Woody I love you”
And there are moments friend, There are moments, when he opens up the
Sounds of Heaven to me,
And I feel a peace and a joy that are unequaled by any time I could imagine,
Like for instance, today, I preached at one of my best friend’s Churches,
And I preached the theme, when a seed becomes a Storm.
And my friend read poetry,
And my friend arrived in laden apparel,
And it was a like a dream of old, come true forever more,
The Fantastic Four, knocking down windmills and furrowing eternal friendship,
And at the end of the day, my wife and I sat down and cried tears of empathy and
passion and healing to Gridiron Gang,
I tell you this world is harsh,
And so my King must be tough on me,
He must relentlessly remind me of my emptiness and inadequacy,
But in all of his chastening there is the still small vision of a beauty more
captivating than any World Wonder,
I tell you my King is tough,
But beyond his toughness there is a soft still comfort,
And my love for him is so deep in this moment,
I yell and scream at my savior sometimes like a jealous wife,
I curse him out, I dare him to show himself,
And time after time, he responds, “My son, you are beautifully and wonderfully
made and I love you”
I tell you, in his service I have suffered horrors I couldn’t have thought of in my
wildest nightmare,
And yet his protective hand has always been on me,
He is the King of all I tell you,
And I am unafraid to embrace a Buddhist or a Muslim or a Jew or a Hindu as
sisters or brothers,
For I know of my Saviors protective Jealousy,
He does not fear my adultery,
For he is confident,
He nudges me to explore the universe and see him in Vishnu and Siva alike,
And like the Sivites I sometimes say to him, “God where is your mercy?!”
And he answers with such sweet caress,
And he answers with such sweet murmurings,
He is the End and the Beginning of my joy,
He is my coach, my lover, my friend, my King, my confidant, my brother, my father,
my boss, my master, my life, my heart, and I will love him forever!!!
The last trailing tendril filaments
of moon beams nocturnally trace
fashion an illusory gilded chariot Ark,
whence upon celestial runners,
the approach of dawn's early light
illuminated terrestrial space
which nebulous solar city flanges
revisited since time millennial
hubbub of human race
nsync with Zodiacal constellations,
which appear to shift
as planet Earth axis place
alternated in accordance with
inexplicable universal teenage
mutant Ninja turtles joint pact
with power rangers assumption
sans quotidian playstation remotely
controlled by aliens upon
oblate spheroid figurative stage
set whence commencement nudged
village people foment quiet riot rage
and rant against
uncontrollable catastrophic frenzy,
when cosmic creator
rehearses another page
from playbook, which
color coded cobbled Bible
emanates with radiant hues
of yellow and osage
nonetheless, no mortal adept to predict
(only within plus and/or minus
some marginal variance of error).
oft times punishing atmospheric phenomena
incarcerated, pistol whipped
(if anther incorrect),
whiplash unleashed, oppressed, imposed
challenging condition testing ground
flora and fauna could thrive,
whereat most hardy
plants and animals didst abound
linkedin upon terra firmae
murmur of orchestrated
organisms devising fitting
evolutionary survival traits
plentiful glory vis a vis L'Chaim;
gnome hatter outlook required
sprinting thru uber vanguard,
where zero sum game pitted
disadvantaged Feng shui
living things poorly sparred mismatched
against itching attired egghead,
kickstarting netzero beastie boys
indeed emulating hotmail prodigies
holding greensward ground.
scrimmage fostered, elicited,
dictated, commandeered nature
going full throttle with pings
across biological labyrinth
positioning glommed, peeved,
mis tweeted seeds of life, and white lily,
within soil lent green grubby business
whereby herb and woody stemmed
recalcitrant proto flings
wrote toe rooter bakers
gave Gaia a run for her money
to buy Buffalo wings
chasing miscreants nimbly
outwitting, out-rigging
outsmarting nettlesome stings,
and sage protuberant fungi,
released messengers where rise home
spore ports left nada mushroom,
though symbiosis wood
bark a roll a cord.
Anne-Lise Andresen- "Hugs"
Anisha Dutta- "Sweet Lady"
Beata Agustin- "Spiritual"
Bill Baker- "Friend from Texas"
Brandy Nicole- "Whispers & Scribbles"
Brian Sambourne- "One of my Canadian besties"
Brian Sand- Contest #10,000 (lol)-keep 'em coming, Brian!
Carolyn Devonshire- "Sweet Caroline" (R.I.P. dear Carolyn)
Christina Bowring- "Hugs & Smiles"
Constance la France- "Cats"
Craig Cornish- "Need a dictionary"
Daniel Turner- "Great scrabble player- better poet" (lol)
Darlene De Beaulieu- "Hello Mr. Messina" - (needs to fix avatar-lol)
Deb M- "Debx"
Emile Pinet- "Gifting his books"
Eve Roper- Nursey Rhymes"
Gershon Wolf- "The great philosopher"
Gregory Barden- "The Bard"
Hilo Poet- "Aloha"
I Am Anaya- "Cool"
Ink Empress- "Ink Princess"
Jan Allison- "Best for a laugh"
JCB Brul- "Never won her contests (lol)
John Hamilton- "Lyrics"
John Lawless- "WTFWT"
John Watt- "Word master"
Joseph May- "Love his contests"
Julia Ward- Never won her contests either (lol)
Kim Rodriguez- "Nature"
Lady Labyrinth- "Deep"
Line Gauthier- "Short and sweet"
Maria Williams- "My dear Aussie"
Michael Tor- "My brother from another mother"
Mike Gentile- "Caring"
Milton Hankins- "Missing him"
Mystic Rose Rose- "Flowers, flowers"
Panagiota Romios- "Pangie, the S.F. kid"
Paula Goldsmith- "A lovely read/write"
Quoth The Raven- "The Birds"
Regina McIntosh- "Love, Gina"
Richard Lamoureux- "His lovely wife"
Robert Hinshaw- "The poem I wrote for his wife"
Robert James Liguori- "Marvel"
Sam Kaufman- The finest bus driver poet I ever knew"
Sandra Haight- "My Jersey gal"
Sara Baker- "Bill's lovely wife"
Sara Kendrick- "Thanks for sharing"
Silent One- "Silence" (Rumi)
Sotto Poet- "Admirable"
Susan Ashley- "Warmest wishes"
Suzette Delaney- "The poem I wrote about her avatar eye"
Suzette Richards- "Can't do her contests, too hard (lol)
Tania Kitchin- "Haiku's"
Tom Cunningham- "Great story teller"
Tom Watt- "Another word master"
Tom Woody- "Reminds me of Milton- for some reason"
Unseeking Seeker- "The Seeker"
Valsa George- "Blessings"
Victor Buhagiar- "Missing his wife"
Vijay Pandit- "Imagery and Imagination"
Winged Warrior- "The great alliteration'er"- (R.I.P. John)
Shark art, the romance of nothingness Homeless vagabond’s discuss the emptiness of soup cans A frenzied race of little Benny hills playing, king of the mole hill Three bums decide, to see who is the most eloquent, at saying nothing at all. Like, what would Andy Warhol and Woody Allen’s children look like. That’s not funny at all but Tom waits his turn, peeping over the wall like Kilroy, if he existed. Laying on his side looking, at the mole hill Yep, little ants are trying to climb a mountain, as a passerby steps on it and the candy mountain police officer, wipes the stuff of His nightstick, saying all the world is a stage. A little boy would rather eat shoe leather, than turn that page. Laughter erupts from the soup can, when raising the leg is abrupt Echoes of humor, as the puppy kicks the can, placing cheese, on an already disturbing content. Chum, the can was indeed empty. We got are fill. The Lord knows you are homeless, wait for Him.
The way unto the woods…
The way where I stood…
The way called me million and zillion times,
The way stood there where I stood.
Stepping onto the appealing path,
Holding onto that which never stood apart,
Holding onto the inner guard,
I stepped onto the path of woods…
The insides of my mind traveled fast,
The pendulum of my heart did its part,
The scattered, rotten me, ran to and forth,
The moment I stepped on that woody path.
There was something unique about this trail,
There was something so intriguing about the whole place,
The woods had found me or I had found the woods,
There popped up many such questions on my way.
The journey into the woods led me nowhere,
The journey was never into the woods I propose so,
The journey was a journey although,
But the journey never promised me the reward of a treasure trove.
I did not end up by the riverside,
Nor did I find a cave and a fairyland from its insides,
The woods stood where I stood,
The journey ended where it could.
The path was misty,
The woods were in real density,
The trail began into the insides of my mind,
The trail began to unleash the hidden giants
The giants hidden inside the misty woods,
The giants of my mind, my roving mind,
The giants so big ‘of pride’,
The giants living in my dense woody mind.
There I met the horrendous sight,
Of the ghosts of ‘fear’ and of the ghosts of ‘lie’,
Then the ghosts of ‘my low self-esteem’,
tried scaring me away along with the ghosts of ‘‘my fickle mind’.
The sight of all of them,
Coupled with the ‘loneliness’ of the trail,
This adventure hunt shook me well,
No doubt it was a tricky trail.
Finding my way out was not in vain,
Though fighting the inner goons was a bit of pain,
It took me quite a deal of zeal
To come out of that self-invited ordeal.
I killed them all, I did that all,
I did what all it demanded of me,
To emerge out of that dark monstrous grab of fake.
Ah what it feels to be me,
What it takes to be me,
Nothing but a tricky trail,
Nothing but the call of wake
I ran into the woods of my mind
I ran to where my fears and my evils took hide
I ran to where I had a mask to unveil,
I suggest to all to run where they find their real “me”. ?
Form:
I have gazed upon her eyes to wonder why? For they have brought me a memories of another for I could not have. Yes, this is what I saw? Her skin black like the night that plays together as like passing, Her eyes brown that holds the mystery of her, Her lips light to touch form like those playful clouds children love to shape, Her nose speak to breathe but don't dare, The whole lining of her face for which it took the maker an life times to create, just so that whatever man true of heart may hold her all the days of his life. Her shoulders lenght to her arm to hands are beautifully form from what mejesty, Her chest made flat to hold the two mountains that are her breasts, her breasts like two circles that tenderly move ever so slowly as I tremble showing me their true form like babies out to play, Her belly like her chest flat but like with a masculinity of a well bound mother. How neatly shaped the hair on her garden , which show the flesh that has brought men to their knees. I alone desire to speak and meet, but she walked away with her Buttlock gently moving from side to side declaring her womanhood. For she is the Queen of a once forgotten kingdom, The Queen of the Kinglessking. The wholeness of her body spoke to say, Take this kiss upon your lips with the parting of you, thus this much let me avow you are not wrong. who deem that my days be but an dream, yet, hope has frowned away into the night, or in the day, or, in a vision, or, in none. is it therefore the less gone? For all that we see or seen, I stand amid a roar of suf-tortured souls, and I hold within my hands grains of golden sand, How few, yet how they creep through my fingers into the deep. while I weep! while I weep? O YAH can I not grasp tighter clasp? O YAH can I not save but one from the pitiless waves all that I see or seen? Her beauty to me was like those nice yoke that Genlty moves over a perfume sea. The weary way worn wonderer bore to her own native on desperate sea long to want. Her hyacinth woody hair, Her classic face, Her naiad air that has brought me to see her glory? O the grandeur that was lo in her brilliant willow niche statue like I saw her there? The agate lamp that is in her soul! (ah) Psyche from the region which are holy
An abandoned cottage holds
remnants of secrets unexplored.
the past ~ whispers ~ through
a creaky wooden floor.
Vestiges in gossamer, drape
window frames and doors
through tainted panes of glass
the scent of meadow soars.
Woody stems and vines
cling to crumbling walls
shadows peeling back
memories I recall:
the oracle Sycamore
a hostel to a swinging rope,
like a pendulum
timed in perpetual stroke.
Gazing on orchards
of fruited trees
romanced by busy
droning bees
nomadic tribes
of wide - eyed deer
forage and drink
the creek so clear
cascading toward the river
that lies beyond the bend,
a cloistered Heron in Cattails,
a protracted pose transcends;
leaning in a mantra
of spiritual grace,
resonates the thrum
in a humble sacred place.
echoes of song birds
harmonize in the morn
endowed in devotion,
awaken the dawn.
Mother Nature’s
rhythmic beat
a faithful promise;
she will repeat.
What I'd like to give you is
an ounce of my cherished perfume...
a precious incense carried by me,
all bustling hustling years long.
in hamlet of a serene village,
a charming abode in my childhood,
windows covered with unique curtains,
made of delicate fragrant grass - Khus..
pleasing breeze gently murmuring through those plants,
brought alluring aroma of a dreamlike life!
Utopian memory soothes my existence
even today in hectic fluttering lifestyle
sadly left quaint dwelling unwarranted,
due to an unexpected occurrence
to my mother...hurriedly had to leave,
with me the wistful scent always stayed.
a frolicking damsel, rejoicing with a doll's house,
immersed in reading to her heart's content,
home surrounded by fairy-tale garden
bordered with ravishing flowers fragrant.
Bring me home that nostalgic seductive aromatic scent,
of a pure innocent unforgettable mesmerizing youth
encircled by doting family, adored by admiring friends...
engrossing dreams, entrancing memory of a playful childhood.
Notes: Khus is a tall grass plant - it has a complex, earthy, woody scent similar to lemongrass, which has been valued for its aroma since ancient times. This plant originated in India, but can be found in Indonesia, Haiti. In very warm areas in India, window-coverings used to be made, using these aromatic plants, and spraying water on them.
September 28, 2021
For "Bring Me Home" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose