Long Wrapped around her Poems
Long Wrapped around her Poems. Below are the most popular long Wrapped around her by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wrapped around her poems by poem length and keyword.
… On The Gist of Where A Gather Melts Hate’s Glacier
On The Nexus of Need & Knowing True Love’s Nature
On The Passage of Innocence To Please Forgive Us Prayers
On The Way To Meet Wide Open Arms of Our Maker
On Edge of Evening and Eden’s Promised Favors …
stretched The Trail of Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
There Lay A Storm-Tossed Loch Between The Rifts
A Charcoal Sky That Seemed Heavy & Propped By Stilts
She Was At The Limits of Her ‘All That She Could Do Lists’
She Was On The Verge of Vanishing Into Vanity’s Myths
While Searching Between Urgency and An Internal Eclipse
… ventured the Interim of Soft Footfalls Towards Forever
She Took One Last Stiff ‘Uisge Beatha’ Spirit-Sip To Lips
She Heard The Last, Lone Note of A Bagpipe’s-Signal, Lilt
Envisioned The Strong Stance & Clan Colors of His Kilt
and The Rich-Hued-Tow Head, Which Shone Like Gilt …
as He Strode The Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
(Her Eyes Closed But Her Course Kept At Canter)
Eyes Closed … Tho’ That’s Not Why It Had Gone Black
She Can Nay See How To Finish Thru To Their Trek-Pact
She Must Rest On A Narrow, Not-Well-Beaten Path
Will He Cover The Distance From What Her Last Legs Lack?
… Even If She Has Stopped & Dropped Dead In Her Tracks
Will He Come To Find and Bring Her Unfalteringly Back? …
from Earth-Packed, Soft Footfalls Towards Forever?
Her Eyes Closed, But True Love’s In-Sight, Closes Never
He Found Her, Eyes Closed … Swollen, Squeezed Into Slits
He Saw The Puffed Flesh Where The Poison Had Been Spit
He Saw Her and Traced The Tears She’d Held Back Then Spilt
Saw Her Lovely Face Framed By Curly Dark-Red, Wet-Wisps
& Finger-Nail Marks Where Her Hands Clenched Into Wee Fists …
Formed & Fashioned Her Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
(His Bonny Lass, Woven In His Tartan & Tam’s Token Feather)
He Saw The Emerald Heirloom Wrapped Around Her Wrists
But He’d Not See In This World, Her Twin Sparkles, Again A–Glist’
His Own Eyes Became Mirrors of A Flooded Dam That Split
He Took On The Burden That She Had Endured This Tryst
Yet He Could Not Bear The Thought of Her Feeling A–Jilt
As He Carried Her Where Clouds Covered Them Like Quilts
Each Sorrowed Step & Stone & Step Spanned Breach & Breath & Built …
the Bridge That Balances & Blankets: Footfalls Towards Forever …
(to be continued on Part 3 of 3)
Written & ©: 1/ 3-6 /2013
by: MoonBee Canady
The opalescence of the early morning light flows over everything
It touches over ever leaf, every tree, every exposed part of her skin
She stares at the sky as the dawn breaks
It shines brighter and brighter
The dew illuminated with the power of the sun
Everything around buzzes with the recharge of a new day
Everything but her
Volatile thoughts burrow through every cell
Leaving her empty filled only with the brisk sweet air
White knuckle grip on the rusty swing slowly creaking in the breeze
Time stops for a moment as the birds go quiet and the squirrels hold their breath
The silence was deafening so she screams
She screams out every breath she has ever taken-
She screams with every ounce of strength left in her-
She screams out all the sorrows, all the pains, all the contradictions
Gasping relieved from the build of feminine rage
She sobs out the anguish of unrealistic self expectation
She sobs in quiet determination to feel better or at all
She sobs to release the leash wrapped around her heart which keeps her tied to poise
Sighing she breathes deep even breathes of the fresh morning air
In and out
In and out
She breathes in the peaceful calm of the perfect morning
She breathes in self reflection of her beauty
She breathes in lost ideals of enoughness
She breathes out the snide backhanded comments
She breathes out the monstrous detrimental molds that she’ll never fit into
She breathes out the self hatred and regret and loathing
Stilling she looks around for the first time since she laid down and clung hopelessly to the swing
She smiles taking in the pink and purple watercolor sky
She smiles noticing the slight breeze ruffling the viridian leaves
She smiles as the the electric light beams which zap through the tree branches-
They dance around the ground and all over her body in waves
For the first time in a long time she remembers herself
She remembers herself more than just a woman
She remembers herself more than just a sister or a daughter
She remembers herself more than just a friend or a lover
She remembers herself below the depression and angst
She remembers herself as a person internally whole
She had forgotten her inevitable strength
She vows to never forget herself again
Standing in the warmth of the spring sun-
She laughs
"Aurora Spills"
Aurora spills like a waterfall
light from the eyes
saltwater tears
crocodilian
scaled in the weight of worth
a drop in the ocean of fate
breaks the seaweed fields of stories
they wave her in
rippling time away
fingertips dance mesmerising
the stinging strangers
wrapped around her legs
treading water in deep
infested notions
the coolness of
irreverent nonchalance
romantic or not
pulls her under covers
like warm blankets
heavy comfort
calls the broken
floating towards
the shabby matrix
new gates of life open
mirrors crack like eggs
the vision reflects
both light and dark
demon and saint
their remnants
embers, still
in the coldness
of prickly gloaming
like glow worm glen
fireflies red and glowing
sparks ignite
a rapturous bushfire
from cinders
billy tea leaves overturned
empty cups read
the yolk of a heart
never lies
fried casually
by the over easy
in shallow pans
of poetry
under microscopes
of blithe mordant critique
minute shards of gold
are slowly sifted
from the flotsam dross
some wisdom found
in the muddy fertile mind
shooting up
from 6ft underground
like small green plants
growing under rocks
with centipedes and
the petulant poison of spiders
in pink reflection
insurgence blooms
war never waits
silently the Pandoras smile
understanding all and nothing
of a small life distended,
swelling love
for that which was stolen
where bursting broken blue weeds
undo frozen jewels
diamonds sharp for the cutting
shiny words spells of insanity
delicious moments
melting time swallowed
spoken without voice
listening to ghosts
scratching through walls
where life floods
from glass boxes
coffins of buried treasure
banished
kaleidoscope colours
overgrowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“The Lady in the Lake”/ Elysian Fields
https://youtu.be/IjX8xfZ7sg0
“Out of whose womb came the ice
And the hoary frost of heaven
Who hath gendered it
The waters are hid as with a stone
And the face of the deep is frozen”
LYRICS/ “The Lady in the Lake”, Elysian Fields
https://genius.com/Elysian-fields-lady-in-the-lake-lyrics
Ten in the night. The porch light flickers on, like a lighthouse in rural darkness. Healing begins with a door left open. An old lady at 90 sets the kettle to boil, chamomile steeping in amber pools of hope. The wooden sign leans against her window: Tea & Talk. Always Open to Anyone.
Seven nights of solitude. Cricket songs and empty chairs. Sometimes changing the world doesn't look like a movement. A cat winds between her ankles, purring questions into the cold night.
After a week, at ten in the night, footsteps are heard. A girl weeping, arms wrapped tight as winter coats wrapped around her broken dreams arrives. "Is this... real?” Someone to listen and offering Tea. The only currency that matters is presence. The old lady pours hot tea, with a smile of trust, warmth flowing from her heart to build hope and confidence, as she consoles the girl.
Desperate people finding solace come, one after another, now fifty. The space breathes with hopes, whispers confessions, sorrows, laughter and hope. Words are seeds….some fall on stone, others on fertile hearts. Truckers passing by with calloused hands cradle delicate cups. Widowers unfold photograph albums like prayer books. Teenagers flee late-night arguments, finding sanctuary in the old lady’s silent listening.
December blizzard is cold. Power lines snap like broken promises never to return. Shovels scrape against snow, lanterns bob through darkness. They won't let the place close. Community is not built….it is discovered. Solar lights on, generator humming, thermoses steaming. The warmest place in town glows with human constellation.
Spring arrives with its colourful glamour beautifully. Conversations spilling like wildflowers. Love multiplies when divided. Notes accumulate on old lady’s refrigerator, testimonies to the healing power of witnessed pain. A veteran sleeps through the night. A baby giggles for the first time. Someone chooses life over despair.
The movement spreads without manifesto or mission statement. Revolution sometimes whispers.
The heart's true home is where it dares to break open for all.
Ten PM chimes by Old lady,
warm light spills through winter dark,
tea steeps, door stays wide
You know I'm just a lonely man
Walking down this here loney road
Lonely Street and as I walked past many fine women
Many fine foxes all walking in line
Straightened around I turn the corner
Dodging brothers, them militant brothers blazing about time Looking for a woman to put on the streets
Then it hit me thinking about you darling
You and I passed love affair
Sonic heartedly and blinded by the memories
Of you and I bump into this wonderful woman
This lady who's the matched curves vents and wrapped Around her body like the oceans waves
Her beauty that of a nightingale
What you are
Lord have mercy I pray this woman
I keep at bale
Couldn't match your ways
Right then darling I thought of you over the pain
And the grief right and I remember just where I was just where I am
I remember our last love affair
I remember it as if you were still there
Two people making love
Do you remember
The kissing booth and holding of hands
The melting and collaborating about minds
The taste of sweet honey from your lips
The warm and tender children we had plans two after marriage
Your now
And always be mine
You're an angel
She's an angel my, my, my girl
My world she is my angel
Girl you brought joy to my heart
Security a loving home
And family never no, no, no misery
A private phone
For when you want to be alone
Queen size bed
For you sleeping with all the tapestry and trappings
All this love and affection
Is just to give you protection
The man who will trade you in
Love your friend, came home all the time late
And you're asking him
Where he's been
Well I know it's not my mother
I know it's not my mother
And I know it's not my sister
And I know it's not my sister
She's not his lady no not that his woman
A white streak from the sky
A question to your lover why
If you left her would she cry
She's not a magician nor a clown or miracle worker
She's not some kind of backstabber
He's trying to put you down
Nevertheless I found she's an angel
She's an angel
She's an angel, yeah she's an angel
6/17/70
Written words by James Edward Lee 1970. 2020
For Bob Dylan
sheltered from the howling winds of vows and scattered souls and sweltering hate
she is a refuge from the blistering sands of dread and loss and torn and twisted fate
when the emptiness inside becomes an abyss so dark and wild and cold
my words get lost in the jangling alleys where dreams are bought and sold
I met her in those alleys among the withering roses on a bed of thorns
and she filled me up with poems banishing the scowling moments and their baleful scorns
now I lie awake and wish that I could sleep and drift away into the maze of her dream
but slumber has fled and slipped the noose around my words as they thrash around and scream
words that swirl around and around like that scarlet scarf wrapped around her face
she's a mystery still as she will always be while I sift through this empty desolate space
the storm it broke and ceased and shuffled my words as they drifted forlornly into the chasm of the dead
leaving me here still and mute and frantic as I try to pick up the pieces of all the words that have been said
far too many far too often far too conceited and far too proud
for I failed to hear the stillness of beauty as I rambled along barking my words out aloud
she hushes me now as she hushed me then in the cobwebbed tunnels of the past
while I weep more words in blood and ink onto dried parchment meant never to last
so tell her that her whiskey has been greedily gulped down and now that I am soberly drunk
I see her songs and hear her breath reaching down into my mouldy abode of hapless funk
fare-thee-well for now as I slide into the scribbled hubris of another battered rhyme
dazed by the glaring embers as they scorch the moments of quickly fading time
and if tomorrow finds me here still shell-shocked and drained in body and in mind
tell her that her wine has slipped through the loose knots that bind
tying me to this place of sanity and insanity all rolled into one
while all is numb and scarred from the deed that has been done
and as I flee recklessly chasing away myself from me once more
she'll know the words for its a song that's been sung far too many times before
(for bob dylan)
Form:
She sits on the floor arms wrapped around her ankles.
By a thread of hope, she dangles.
Tears run from her eyes endlessly.
Nobody can stop her from breaking.
Her breathing gets ragged and troubled.
No matter what her problems are doubled.
Rocking herself, comfort eases over her mind.
Her meds are kicking in and peace she finally finds.
Butterflies fly around her head.
When she tries to catch them, they fall dead.
She lays her head down to sleep.
How long can, sanity, she keep?
Later when she wakes up, she feels so empty.
How else should she feel when she may have given up a baby?
3 days after rape and abortion pills.
She's fifteen and not sure how she feels.
She goes to the bathroom mirror.
The image is anything but clear.
Her sister laughs at her anxiety.
Her sister tells her she has never had and never will have a reason to worry,
Because the girl has it so easy.
She thinks yeah that's why he raped me.
She begins to cry again.
And her sister yells at her then.
The sister cusses her and pushes her around.
Her self-esteem dives right into the ground.
She walks out and goes out on the back porch step and sits.
Wondering what she has done to be treated like this.
Her dad is outside smoking when she begins to have trouble breathing.
He calls out her name, he starts getting worried.
She barely hears him even though, he is right beside her, screaming.
She finally catches her breath and says sorry.
And her dad walks away angrily.
She goes in and looks at the girl in the mirror.
The vision she is seeing is getting clearer.
You wouldn’t believe,
That the girl I have been talking about is me.
I am telling you a story that happens to be true.
Well, it used to.
I found out at seventeen…
That my sister had betrayed me.
People ask, “What is a soul’s worth in money?”
Nothing, I tell you. Nothing!
She sold me out for eleven dollars.
I swear I want to hurt her.
I want to hurt her worse than she did me.
But I do not have the heart for such cruelty.
Form:
Woman in Chains
A young girl longs for the love of her father, she is daddy’s precious girl
She closes her eyes and pretends he is not in her bed
Pushes the memory deep down and far, far away
On her wedding day she dreams beautiful dreams of love and white horses to carry her away
She wakes up one morning wondering how the chains wrapped around her neck got there
Her hands became tied, her feet were bound as well
She tried to be perfect
To make HIS pain go away
Her house was so clean, the children were so cared for
As he entered the house, the meal was well prepared
HER WORLD BECAME HIS
AS SHE SLOWLY LOST HERSELF!
One Day the chains became too strong
Like a vine that wraps itself, strangling like a mummy
She started to disappear
One day he came home drunk
And the unravelling began
As she ran, barefoot for her life
The police came with sirens and lights and took him away
The children watched in silence
Like zombies before an apocalypse
The cage flew open as she stepped outside
The freedom from the chains began
The journey was a long one
After the bruises faded
Freedom always comes with a cost!
He had to punish her
Her children were the price
The collateral for this war
Pain and destruction and open wounds
Now many years have passed
She no longer dreams of white horses
Beauty comes from the waves rolling in and out at her cottage by the lake
The love of one that heals the wounds has broken all the chains
The flowers in her garden bring her peace
The chains that try to come are quickly cut and thrown away
The chains are on her children now
As she tries to live her freedom
The children now are men that are broken and wounded
With chains around their necks
Their addiction numbs the pain of the woman in chains.
And where is their freedom?
August 26, 2020 written for poetry contest of 'woman in chains'
if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say nothing at all, they say.
every moment, every minute, every second of the day.
the silenced people can not tell wrong from right,
and when they speak up, the loud ones use it as an excuse to pick on them and fight.
your opinion isn’t valid unless you have good looks,
“well that’s how it is now” no, look at the books;
the books full of history and the darkness of mankind,
it’s always been about appearance, let me keep that in your mind.
racism and the colour of peoples skin-
they may have had the same opinion but weren’t allowed to fit in.
at least time has moved on and everything’s much better,
but we can’t pretend it didn’t happen, word to letter.
what about women, and when they’re sexualised?
can someone please tell me how it’s the woman’s fault and not the guys?
it’s not her fault if she has tight clothes wrapped around her body,
society says she’s either insecure or she looks homeless or shoddy.
it’s not just on the outside that’s discriminated,
for does anyone remember why george oswell was incriminated?
somewhere out there, there’s a gay person sitting at the table with their homophobic parent or parents ,
sitting in silence because their parents found out, in self-assurance.
too many people get killed for who they are,
past or present, it’s gone too far.
judge a person on their actions that make them a bad person,
not on who they kissed, what they wore or the colour of the skin because everyone’s got a story you just have to listen to their version.
so don’t be afraid to say the wrong thing,
learn from your mistakes and what they bring
but don’t say nasty stuff about someone you don’t know,
get to know the nasty side of them before you let it all go.
A girl named Emilee, bright as the day.
With a mother’s embrace, she learned to be strong,
But the absence of a father felt like a song.
A melody missing, a note out of tune,
Yet love found a way, like the sun through the gloom.
Her granddaddy came with a heart full of grace,
A gentle old man with a warm, loving face.
He taught her of kindness, of courage, of dreams,
With stories that sparkled like sunlit streams.
He showed her the world through a father’s kind eyes,
In his laughter, she found her own joyful skies.
But time, like a thief, took him far away,
Leaving Emilee’s heart in a shadowy fray.
The day that he left, the world felt so cold,
A bond that was precious, now a memory to hold.
She thought she would shatter, her spirit would break,
For losing her granddaddy felt like a earth quake.
Yet in the stillness, where sorrow once lay,
His love wrapped around her, a warm, soft bouquet.
In whispers of wind, in the rustle of leaves,
She felt him beside her, in all that she believes.
Each day she remembers, each moment she keeps,
His laughter, his wisdom, in her heart, it seeps.
Now as she watches her children at play,
She sees her granddaddy in their smiles every day.
In the twinkle of eyes, in the way that they laugh,
His spirit lives on, in Emilees path.
Though the ache of his absence will never quite cease,
In the faces of her children, she finds her peace.
So Emilee carries the love that he gave,
A legacy woven, a bond that won’t cave.
In the tapestry of life, where memories blend,
Her granddaddy’s love is a light without end.
Though he’s gone from this world, in her heart he will stay,
A father’s love shining down in such a beautiful way.