Long Wraith Poems
Long Wraith Poems. Below are the most popular long Wraith by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wraith poems by poem length and keyword.
*~Amber silents, daylight violets;
The charm of a lover’s tender quietness;
*Custom stares;
The glimpses that express gentle care;
*Love comes here;
Between two who truly feel;
*Love is where there is caring faith;
Just as the heavenly Father saith;
*Loves committed grace;
Whatever the two might face;
*A chance we come together;
With hearts lighter than a feather;
*Writing this love letter, caressing rhymes;
Shared throughout lifetimes;
*For all times;
Joys unfold oftentimes;
*Shall we write together "letters" and "words";
Enchanted music meant for songbirds;
*O love of love lets us write nigh...
With all our hearts we will try;
*Come write with me, calvary so lets elaborate,
With true love, there is no reason to wait;
*Shall we, yes we will collaborate...
Let’s pen the date ~
*~Amber silents, daylight violets;
With a love like this, there is no violence
*Custom stares;
Whispers of what we dare;
*Love comes here;
Please bend your ear;
*Love is where there is caring faith;
It never believes of a wraith;
*Loves committed grace;
It gives back without a trace;
*A chance we come together;
Whatever the weather;
*Writing this love letter, caressing rhymes;
Never susceptible to any crimes;
*For all times;
Love for love mimes;
*Shall we write together "letters" and "words";
Never dividing our love into thirds;
*O love of love lets us write nigh...
Together, we can fly so very high;
*Come write with me, calvary so lets elaborate,
We were always meant to create;
*Shall we, yes we will collaborate...
There is simply nothing more to debate. ~
September 8, 2019
Let Us Collaborate a Love Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: James Edward Lee Sr.
Watching wild horses race is awe-inspiring.
This stimulates the heart's intense aspiring.
However, in the Lord, I have complete faith.
The toil of dread is as terrifying as a wraith.
My virtue is stability; I'm the same each day.
Steady heedless of what others opine or say.
I am grateful to have received God's grace.
This supports my firm trust in the fair face.
As I assess my stance, I am assured it is right.
God has given me a fresh objective and sight.
Mice and rats have their picks, and I have mine.
I embrace sticking to my beliefs. I stroll the line.
Even if you don't place much value on me.
Same as a river running, love never ends to be.
I will uphold my faith until the cease of time.
Praising love in a lyrical, sugar-coated rhyme
Do not regard me as foolish or absurd.
A sane claim wilts on the usage of a word.
Deliverance from God boosts my trust.
Sweep the ashes out; I'm staring at the dust.
Written: May 3rd, 2023
She was forced to live a life that was never her own
trapped in this body and reduced to a wraith
lost and ridiculed, abandoned in a world unknown
far from home with only a trace left of her faith
looking for answers, she sits down in a church pew
so many, pass judgement with looks that condemn
do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?
Is she an abomination? Do you not love her like you love them?
Why do so many, feel entitled and have to hate?
Did you not create and die for us all?
Why can’t we just show love and not berate?
Please give this girl strength, and don’t let her fall
we all have free will and choose how we treat each other
my door is always open and I will do my part
I accept this child for who she is, for I am her brother
She has my unconditional love straight from the heart
December 19,2020
A Rhyme Story-Poem With Eyes On Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
...... Part 3 ......
The old wolf creeps, the old wolf leaps
on prey he’s been a’ trackin’ –
a deer adorned with branchin’ horns
is torn by beasts attackin’.
The morning quakes, a shadow shakes,
tined antlers left a’ lyin’,
and spattered spots and scarlet clots
repaint the point o’ dyin’.
A magpie flies with frightened eyes
(on ebon wings a’ wavin’),
spies wolfin’ jaws and sated maws
of wolves no longer cravin’.
The snowdrift clears, a cool wind veers,
a dying breath, moreover –
a wraith appears, with shaggy ears,
(one droopin’ down, hung over).
Dawn’s sunbeams crowd, ignite a cloud,
its threaded strands a’ weavin’.
The pack awakes and twists and shakes,
for soon it’s time for leavin’;
it’s bleak, it chills on shallow hills,
as she-wolfs come a’ nuzzlin’,
but north winds scold, the wolf lies cold,
the pack stands back a’ puzzlin’.
On crimson snows neath perchin’ crows,
the pack abides a’ guardin’;
while nights are tight with Harpy kites,
the she-wolves wait an’ harden,
until a groanin’ blizzard stones
the barren forest stowin’
his shaggy ears beneath the weirs,
with icy hails ’a blowin’.
The storm abates and terminates,
the glacial wind’s subsidin’;
the past is past or passin’ fast
and life goes on abidin’.
The herds, today, roam far away,
not thinkin’ of the dyin’;
the pack’ll stray from day to day,
’a stalkin’ hard and tryin’.
As spring sneaks forth upon the north,
they’re lean without their leader.
A she-wolf (bound with belly round)
strains neath a budding cedar.
Upon the morn a whelp is born
(the future forest drover)
in new frontiers, with shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over).
......End......
Upon the hallowed ground past midnight sighs
'Neath trembling yews and tombstones cold and sere
Did I espy, as the tempest began to rise
A maiden clothed in spectral white appears
Her ghostly raiment danced upon the restless air
Her visage pale with sorrow finely drawn
Betwixt the graves she glided into our ghastly affair
Her presence enthralling as the coming dawn
Within her hand a missive she pressed
Gloved fingers clad in evening’s formal hue
She whispered with the wind, she, a soul distressed
“Seek thou the attic there thy fate is due”
Anon the gale did whisk her form away
(Formerly known as Mrs. Emily)
And left me alone to ponder till the day
Epilogue:
After this wraithlike wedding of our souls
I cannot abjure this vision
In my mind it rolls and rolls as it goes
Poetic Form: Rhyme/Footle/Shape or Concrete
Inspired: 2024 January 09. As per sample supplied by sponsor.
. "When Each
Man woman, and child
are not born to be wild
there will be love and
laughter and peace
ever after. When
hate ceases
to be, free
. we will
all be
X" ~~Quote by The Poet~~
Couplet - Rhyme:
Friends respond,
Transcends go beyond.
Missing piece,
Kissing release.
Needs prayer,
Seeds fair,
Sew strong,
Grow belong,
Peace resumes,
Cease booms.
Footle:
Peace
Release
Unarm
No Harm
Calm
Psalm
Pure
demure
anticlimax
Relax
Love
One above
dream
scheme
moonbeam
stream
gleaming
beaming
tranquility
ability
faith
Wraith
Transcend
Befriend
Shape:
A L
E. x L.
W x P
. x R
P x x x A
E x x x Y.
A x x x R
C x O
E. * F
…the seeds of neo-Nazism are germinating
Markus Nierth, former mayor of Tröglitz, Germany 2015
Germany’s rock candy windows and cookie like shingles make seeing the oven inside impossible. At first, the obsessive compulsive cleanliness of Nuremberg’s post-WWII streets is a joy. For a child of the melting pot, born after The Big One, it’s painful to recall the grimmer aspects of the Third Reich with their proposed eugenics. Nuremberg [rebuilt] roots in an elitist past hiding behind half-timbered houses of wattle and daub. Once the seat of the Holy Roman Empire seeped in power, then, a base for Hitler’s wunderkind rallies—now a soul-blighted bloom, a minor stop on the tourist trail.
Street walking pedestrians—the silent middle, staid, detached—stroll or bike along paths, immersed in white dreams. The pogroms of terror, stolen homes, and bridges made from Jewish Cemetery stones lie beneath layers of pristine paint and plaster. The Jews victimized for centuries, and the war trials, a mere subtext to tour guide chatter.
xenophobia
tamped down like an ash banked fire
waits to rise again
on a bellows breath of rage
spray painted on railroad cars
The site of my pilgrimage, The Palace of Justice—walled in panels of ashen mahogany—retains a dour mien. Judges, jurors and those to be tried, still use this hall. After-images of skeletal camp dweller and vain glorious generals rise wraith-like from the polished surfaces, paneling, pews, and copings. Greek God’s glower. A bronze crucifix castes judgment on all who pass: God fearing, or atheist. Justice is not present; horrors are not passed and conscience is now presented to the world as a fanatic in a suicide vest.
First Published in Artificium UK 2016
On pensive planes of wraith-like existence,
Are stoic shadows feigning affection;
Crimson lips of withering consistence,
Have lost their craze for craving confection.
Tear-filling prisms tilling a rueing sphere,
Pathos prowling, pity's wild and roaming;
Reminisce wind-blown is tumbleweed drear,
Bathos like bramble bur clings in gloaming.
Tin foil hearts' echo sad droning down-beat,
Rose petal ballet two rust figurines;
Today's gray sleet does douse yesteryears' heat,
Apathy's ennui directing the scenes...
Love once aflare in fanfare marigold,
Lies now a wizened weed, dried and stone cold.
Susan Ashley
November 2, 2017
There stands a desolate castle on England's venerable shore,
That once sheltered a royal line that ruled its sprawling realm.
Now, according to local lore, eerie things are seen and heard,
In that castle by the sea, in that haunted castle by the sea!
On blustery nights a spectral sentry is seen pacing its towers.
Clad in mail, armed with lance, he's heard to herald the hours.
His disembodied voice is heard e'en o'er the raging storm,
Atop that castle by the sea, atop that haunted castle by the sea!
On stormy nights as thunder crashes and the savage gale shrieks,
Lightning illumes a princess wraith, tears coursing down her cheeks,
As she waves to her handsome prince who goes forth into battle,
In that castle by the sea, in that haunted castle by the sea!
On moonlit nights a phantom hearse drawn by six ebon steeds,
Trailed by ghostly figures intoning haunting dirges is often seen.
As drifting clouds overshadow the moon, it fades from view,
Nigh that castle by the sea, nigh that haunted castle by the sea!
If only those barren, lichen covered walls could only speak,
But, alas, they now stand forlorn, eternally mute and bleak.
The haunting secrets they might reveal are forever buried,
In that castle by the sea, in that haunted castle by the sea!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Honorable Mention in Debbie Guzzi's "Jack OUT Of The Box" Contest - Jun 2011
Ghost
The moon shone upon the hidden wraith
Combing her silver hair.
Moving from room to room,
Using neither step nor stair.
And the youngest spoke,
“Mummy, Emma's over there.”
A sigh, a breath of air,
A touch of something near.
They looked but did not see
Another passing there.
And the youngest said,
“Mummy, Emma's in that chair.”
Then they moved far away,
Far from where a spectre stayed.
Far from where Emma stood
And in shadow moved and played.
Only the youngest heard the knock
A tap on the old oak door.
A voice in the tick of the ancient clock,
Footsteps on the floor.
And the youngest said,
“Mummy, Emma's back.”
Barry Stabbings
17/04/2016
Entered into Contest 'I Ain't Afraid of no Ghost'
Sponsored by Casarah Nance
Originally Posted as 'Emma'