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absence abuse
addiction adventure
africa age
allah allegory
allusion america
analogy angel
anger angst
animal anniversary
anti bullying anxiety
appreciation april
arabic art
assonance august
autumn baby
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
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best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boyfriend
break up bridal shower
brother bullying
business butterfly
cancer candy
car care
career caregiving
cat celebration
celebrity change
chanukah character
cheer up chicago
child childhood
children chocolate
christian christmas
cinderella city
class clothes
color community
computer conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad dance
dark daughter
day death
death of a friend december
dedication deep
depression desire
destiny devotion
discrimination divorce
dog dream
drink earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
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farewell farm
fashion father
father daughter fathers day
fear february
feelings film
fire firework
first love fish
fishing flower
flying food
football for children
for her for him
for kids forgiveness
freedom friend
friendship fruit
fun funeral
funny funny love
future games
garden gender
giggle girl
girlfriend giving
god golf
good morning good night
goodbye gothic
graduate graduation
grandchild granddaughter
grandfather grandmother
grandparents grandson
grave green
grief growing up
growth guitar
hair halloween
happiness happy
happy birthday hate
health heart
heartbreak heartbroken
heaven hello
hero high school
hilarious hindi
hip hop history
hockey holiday
holocaust home
homework hope
horror horse
house how i feel
howl humor
humorous hurt
husband hyperbole
i love you i miss you
identity image
imagery imagination
immigration innocence
insect inspiration
inspirational international
internet introspection
ireland irony
islamic january
jealousy jesus
jewish jobs
journey joy
judgement july
june kid
kindergarten kiss
language leadership
leaving life
light little sister
london loneliness
lonely longing
loss lost
lost love love
love hurts lust
lyric magic
malayalam marathi
march marriage
math may
me memorial day
memory men
mentor metaphor
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mothers day
mountains moving on
murder muse
music my child
my children mystery
myth mythology
name native american
natural disasters nature
new year new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
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pets philosophy
places poems
poetess poetry
poets political
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power prayer
preschool pride
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psychological purple
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racism rain
rainbow rainforest
rap raven
recovery from red
relationship religion
religious remember
repetition retirement
rights river
romance romantic
rose rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
sweet symbolism
sympathy tamil
teacher technology
teen teenage
thank you thanks
thanksgiving tiger
time today
together travel
tree tribute
trust truth
uplifting urban
urdu usa
vacation valentines day
vanity veterans day
violence visionary
vogon voice
volleyball voyage
war water
weather wedding
wife wind
wine winter
wisdom woman
women word play
words work
world write
writing yellow
youth

Long Seasons Poems | Long Seasons Poetry

Long Seasons Poems. Below are the most popular long Seasons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seasons poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Suzette Richards | Details |

SUMMER, WINTER SOLSTICE - 2010

It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standards. I had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape Town. I had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocket. On the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas season. A few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the Ritz. I chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the Ritz. Then reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solution. I could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of advice. My daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashion. Later that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flat. I gladly accepted. She is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.

screeching seagulls dive at sushi scraps on a plate - the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrived. It was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departures. At the airport everything was in chaos. We were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelled. This was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticket. Some people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier). I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to London. If I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted it. Arriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the day. This I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season. To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed them. I phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the garden. It was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty. I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
moths dart between moon flowers - lunar eclipse
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. Sleepily I took the call. It was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven am. My friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teeth. I offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time. The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinations. Heathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morning. We were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew member. We were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished to. By the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among us. A radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airport. It was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories.
steep steps to flat shut out the bitter world - a heart pounds
**************************************************************** *The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solstice. It was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia. "bitter" means piercingly cold..... A term commonly used by Britishers... "flat" means apartment. The Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or article. Please see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku. Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia


Long poem by Robert Ronnow | Details |

The City Sleeps

Sit up straight and go to sleep! Could be
yr Uncle Al is dead or nobody's died
forever. Think you could recognize Ed's
garbage from yr own? Banana peels, verses
used Trojans and Greek yogurt cups.
She died and became an ad for faith. Wait
and trust. Summon patience and endure

yr pain. Pavilion for disposal of the loved one.
Airport terminal, departures (and arrivals).
The mystery of sex with operating systems,
effortless mastery. Uncomfortable pews.
Amazing Grace. Battle Hymn of the Republic.
God gets angry. But don't anticipate.
The final resting place is the city of the dead.

24/7. War! war! war! Faith and death
they go together like a horse and buggy.
Cincinnati. Not a city to be considered
a city in flight. Living a useless fantasy
about big cities. To build a city
of her descendants that she can defend.
A city of hope and a city of history.

That's what I want from this city:
to wear it. July, a cold city
not as great or as gritty as I thought.
Is the city depressing me? It's a poor city,
the seasons touch us. What a city
I murmur to myself looking at its map.
A community, a city or country

in which people, the women especially,
are upset. A hurricane approaches the city.
My future in a forest or a city.
We were riding a bus into the city.
A baby shouted Vamos! every time the bus
stopped. Come to a populous place, a dense
city. Sitting in a chair in a corner

of a room at the top of a house near
the end of a street at the edge of a city.
The sun is hot on a crowded city.
A place unlike any other I have known,
a city. All by yourself in a besieged
city. No more certain than a drunk
in his city. A big city easy to hold in your mind

when you're in the sky. Sack a whole city,
a port city, seven ample cities, a lost city.
A city in the twilight dim and vast.
I have made my living between two hard anvils,
the mountain and the city. I have sung women
in three cities. We draw together into
greener, tighter cities. Oily body sweats,

city summer. Steve said, let's go see
the city. I saw empty cities sleeping.
The city of Kabul is understandable.
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
The city taught me fear, an infinity of fear.
To leave the city always takes a quarrel.
The young move out, the old stay put

but young artists priced out of big cities
move in. And see the city in a nuclear war.
Beleaguered the city from four quarters of the earth.
Meanwhile the city behaved in accordance with its nature.
This is the thunderous city. The cities crumbled
and blue sky appeared in unexpected places.
Her sad, clear, soulful missives

from the city. Far away, in city streets,
every house is mellowing in the mild air.
All the clocks in the city began to whirr and chime.
It sends the dogs after us, after the holocaust,
in the tattered ruins of our city. Marvelous
cities, still city, the same city, Codrus
died for his city, New York City. Order

on the mountainside, in the city. New squares
have cropped up in my far-away city.
The city is an experienced, used beauty.
City skyline. Cities make a silent, distant sound.
When you're picked up at the airport in a big city.
On the outskirts of the city. To the holy city.
Report from the besieged city. The city slept.

That person, or city, is consciousness.
The roof soot of the city calls me back.
Whatever opposes him in the streets of the city
shall go down. Our enemy becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
The city sleeps and the country sleeps, the living
sleep for their time and the dead sleep for their time.






Long poem by Ndaba Sibanda | Details |

Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb,
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
commitment-
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing

 

to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
reasons.
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…


Long poem by Kelly Crenshaw | Details |

I hope

I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday. 
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think, 
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
And some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head, 
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end. 
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls 
Of unbelief?
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
I wonder.
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts. 
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.


Long poem by cherl dunn | Details |

THE WINDS OF AUTUMN

The mystical maid of the seasonal change, in summer darns a
Gown of evergreen, with rose petal blossoms of bows, and leaves
Ribbons woven intertwine through thorns and beauty.
In the rush the colder winds blow at natures rare textured garments
Of elegance personified, limb by branch, fall do the delicate flowers,
Tenderly bidding the great lady a loving farewell remorse, until next
Years calling madam, they do softly whisper till then my dearest love.
Now in the white dress of the elm, a white maiden of porcelain skin thus
Stands alone, brushed by the on coming chilling breeze of autumn, decorations
Multicolored rainbow leaves create a sheaves protection of golden copper, mixed
With reds crimson detailing of perfection’s design.
The waltz of the timeless begins to play the harmonic music, so the tree
Of life it so does sway, in glories joyous dance.
Ever lightly stepping on the stage of destiny, this lady grace moves with
Her charming silhouette whom keeps in rhymes precision to the tune.
Attempting to beguile this mistress of the season, winter wishes her to yield,
So she may ware his whitest gown earlier this year.
 But nay the lady will not be tempted by the icy gown of winter’s seductions,
For it is she whom decides the changing of the seasons.
It glitters in the air, shimmering with like rarest gems of the sky, enticing
The maid enchanting the women beneath the browning leaves the are blown
Away one by one unto the quickening air swirling around her.
So a tarried figure will appear, ravaged threadbare, a Grecian statues goddess,
Standing stark naked held captive beneath the winter’s lustful spell.
Surrendering the beauty yields to the beast, dressed in sorrows brilliant shifts
Of ivory, that sparkles and shines beneath the moonlights illumination.
Heavy is the burden she must bare, this now ice maiden, waiting until the life 
Cycle to begin again, then a lighter a gown she’ll darn once more.
In the night the sweet music takes a harsher tune, yet she dances onwards,
Her tears turning to snow fakes white lace, thus before they have even a chance
To hit the ground, a damsel of ice and snow waiting to be rescued by the first
Kiss of spring.
In faith she puts all her trust, to end this season of death, she prays to the almighty,
Oh lord it’s lasting to long, my inner heart bleeds so with agonies longing, the heavenly
Father thus sends her a small sign, a minimal of insignificant size, the ground hog, I’m here,
For thee he says standing before her majesty, don’t give up hopes loving embrace.
Then in a lightening flash of colors array, winters chill is whisked away, melted now
Is the heavy garments tethering, and she smiles in the warmth of springs gown of 
Fragrant flowers, and she the maiden of the seasons, praises the power of God on high,
Thank you my father, never again shall I forget your loving grace.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Long poem by Timothy Jacks | Details |

The Masters

h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that

determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,


Long poem by Ian Guyler | Details |

FOUR SEASONAL MONTHS

                                                    DECEMBER
                              Cold ache the tree groans under icy breath
                              Cloying white descends,to carpet and cover
                              This place stands still and battens down weary
                              Heralded autumn ends, winter solstice begins
                              Quiet the path trodden,.under snowy crusts
                              Aimlessly furrowing,..best paths to be made
                              Children will tease fun from frozen hill slides
                              Winter's tale begins under porcelain skies


                                                         MARCH
                    Crocus yawns and stretches through a blanket of white
                    Smiles at a garland of chrysanthemums bowing ..its spring
                    Cracked porcelain ice pools melt to water and nourish
                    Cold northerly brings azure skies and fluffy clouds on high
                    Roots and new born  shoots thawing in suns basked light 
                    trees begin to dress for the summer ball, in greens so new
                    daffodils , crocuses and snow drops adorn walked pathways
                    breaking up the parks into a cornucopia chequer board 
                    colourful picture book walks ,we.. wrapped and warm,
                    winters demise is springs opportunity to showcase its blooms
                    at last spring is here a jewel wedged between harsher seasons

                                                          MAY
                             I catch my breath as your beauty surrounds me
                             Your breeze gently caresses my weathered skin
                             My eyes will drink of you ...that you to me...offer
                             Tears of such serenity , such a joyous occasion
                             summers first song, serenades springs departure
                             We live again to breath the warmth freely offered 
                             Our flowers will pay homage to the month of May


                                                      NOVEMBER
                                 Bronzed defiance against cooler breeze 
                                 Adornment of autumns leaves scattered
                                 Naked the tree that clings to its dignity
                                 standing proud , forlorn a weary sentinel 
                                 Blankets of green leaves turning brown 
                                 Blown by the winds this canopy no more
                                 Braced to be chilled,the onset of winter
                                 This autumn day paints a picture mosaic


Long poem by Cyndi MacMillan | Details |

ALCHEMY


The calendar reports that February will be a short month. It lies. February is shackled to each of its endless, grey hours and this month will be cold and draining. People have packed up their Christmas lights. All is bleak, and my kitchen window has betrayed me.

frost on the pane 
constricts a view to blanched roofs-
windchill factor

Winter is pummeling the region with frigid fists. Today, I will cook with spice. Though some prefer the familiar respites of creamy potatoes or fresh baked bread, I long for my taste buds to tingle. I have been gifted three hours, time enough to saturate my senses. I’ve gathered my ingredients and start to prepare two dishes.

stinging tears
mingle with home comforts  –
minced onions

Cooking this way is intoxicating. I loose myself in texture and aroma. I turn the volume up on the CD player, allow the notes to stir me as I stir tea.  The music is sensual, evocative.

I tap a spoon
on a chipped cup that steeps chai –
Bollywood soundtrack

I forget the subzero temperatures, the punishing trek through snow with a large bag of groceries. My hips pick up the rhythm and respond to a tune that I can not translate but somehow understand, for the song is filled with longing. My feet move and the steps are defiant. While meat browns, I turn my back to all the white, the icy sidewalks and the clouds that have become ever-present and I glide to my spice drawer. 

I am making butter chicken, knowing it will tantalize the tongue, readjust the temperature gage. There is alchemy to spice. The magic begins with Garam masala. Later, turmeric’s pledge will be accepted by cumin. I take a deep breath and let the the fog of flavour chase away each chill. 

curry and cloves
transform the ordinary –
taste of India

Next, I begin on a recipe which I’ve modified. It is not quite Coque au Vin. I dredge the meat in Herbs de Provence. Root vegetables blend with crispy bits of bacon and chicken stock. Then, I combine fresh herbs, tuck them into cheese cloth, set it afloat and let the satchel share its wealth. 

savoury branches
wilt as broth simmers   –
bouquet garni 

I take my time tidying the mess which I’ve made. The poet in me takes a second look at the meals which now cook side by side, like twin continents on my counter. The cultures are distinct, west and east, and yet the aromas easily accommodate each other. There is no division, no conditions, no restrictions. Two territories, well seasoned and season-less. 

the warmth of the world 
escapes in steam from crockpots–
my contented sigh

Again, I inhale. Tonight, we will feast.  A view of the outside no longer matters. This small space has suddenly grown. Time has flown and winter will not cross this doorway.

I will not let it. 


Long poem by J Eliza JAMES | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/natures_single_dads___the_australian_emu_372914' st_title='Nature's Single Dads - The Australian Emu'>

Nature's Single Dads - The Australian Emu

Nature’s Single Dad:
The Australian Emu :
The first 55 days

Emund is busy
preparing his
dance-floor for
partners who’ll put
him to the test. 
His pedigree line
has proven with time

that it is now his
turn, to be best.
He hears them emerge
from the bush as
they gather in
answer to nature’s
call.
They dance, and then
go away, they know
they cannot stay; 
there is not enough
food for them all. 

They dip and they
weave as they mingle
together knowing
that each has a
chance 
With his reputation,
there is no
hesitation; 
he is ready to join
in the dance.
‘Bonk! Bonk,’ comes
the sound of another
arrival, ‘It’s
Emulena!’ he says
with a grin. 
Others move to the
side as he leaves
them mid-stride 
to greet this dancer
as she flounces in.

With sensuous,
rhythmic movement of
hips she fluffs up
her boa, it bounces
in time. 
He matches her mood.
His movements are
smooth 
as they twist and
twirl in their
dancing mime.
He does not fuss
about who takes the
lead, he follows and
their dance now is
ending. 
With steps that are
light he glides to
the right, 	
he meets her, bows
deeply, head
bending.
 	
Emulena says,
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
anew.
It matters not
whether we all stay
together,
we trust you to know
what to do.”
As she speaks, they
deposit their gifts,
and he hears, as in
chorus they say,
“We know you’ll do
magically, what you
do naturally 
to deliver these in
your own way.”

After completing her
task, Emulena stands
tall and she fluffs
up her feathers once
more.
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
threes, 
and promenade across
the dance floor.
Left all alone, he
goes back to his
duties and looks
closely at each pale
green shell.
He checks all for
defects. He sees
they are perfect, 
so with care he
covers every one
well.

He sticks to his
task for fifty-five
days in sunshine,
strong winds and
some showers.
He values each
treasure and tends
them with pleasure 
as he, turns each
egg every three
hours.
Through his long
lashes he sees
danger coming. He
drops his neck down
like a log.
Feathers flying on
high and red fur
prowls near-by; 
he needs to fool
both bird and dog.

The shells have now
turned a dark bluey
green, there’s an
infertile egg in the
batch. 
This egg will be
food for his hungry
brood; 
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
hatch.
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
morning.
He’ll sit day and
night until the
time’s right.
He knows, that time
comes without
warning.

to be continued...


Long poem by Kristin Reynolds | Details |

The Eternal Tree

I am Alive    Forever and always         Essence        Rebirth        Renewal
          I have earth to ground me      I have wind to move me   I have fire to cleanse         
     my     spirit        I have rain      to quench    my thirst    for growth
                      I have sun to    enlighten me        feed me  I am my own mother
              and an extension of the whole     I am   Earth         wind
                       rain   sun  fire    I am as old as life  and I am     as young
   as time   I am shelter to those who seek me   I am a bird  a flower and  the breath
              of the earth itself        I am exactly where I want to be     I am life
       I am first and last  the beginning and the end   I am one from many
                        I am what I am   I live  I grow  and I die. I am  Reborn unto myself
                                                          I am the great circle                   
                                                           My limbs know no                          
                                                           Boundaries; while                            
                                                           My leaves whisper                      
                                                           The one truth of the                      
                                                           Whole  through the           
                                                           Seasons changing
                                                            Colors that I wear 
                                                            Upon my   heart's                  
                                                            Sleeve, I'm home
                                                           To Earth Mother’s
                                                           Melodious  Life; I
                                                           Sing for the whole
                                                         World to hear - trees
                                                       Are Earth Mother's Song
                                                       Blowing 'round the leafy            
                                                  Globe; eyes of the world song 
    {{{{{{{{{{{{{{ Of the Mother   breath of the living   soul of the earth }}}}}}}}}}}}




***Senses evoked here are: Touching, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling and Seeing
***Elements evoked are: Water, Wind, Earth Metal, and Fire


Long Poems