Best Long Lived Poems
Suddenly He returned...
A lone traveller on a journey
tripping with her memory
Breezes of unsceduled joy
He blew beneath her skin
Reaching deep witihin
breathing warmth, affectionately.
He poured honey from the moon
and filled her dusk with light
Oh how He made lost shadows shine
He made rays filter through
soft as a candle light.
Oh how it lit her vacant room
and kindled in her night.
Suddenly He returned...
A lone traveller on a jourmey
tripping with her memory
Like a young first love
they danced so fervently
Like a young lost love
they parted unexpectedly
Their paths were not to meet again
beyond borders in between.
They've let their spuming stars
fade deep into the sea.
It could never be,just never be
Forbidden wants were pushed away
and so each possibility.
Yet long lived thoughts, all wordlessly
as guarded dreams roamed silently.
Suddenlly He returned .,..
A lone traveller on a journey
tripping with her memory
keeps tripping with her memory
Always in her memory....
Eternal Bonds
Apricity sustains us through the cold
As our aging bones recall days of youth,
Where sweet treasures of the heart still unfold
A mode of love that deepens with the truth
That like a long lived tree whose roots run deep
Our years together strengthen our resolve
To weather storms together as we keep
Our bond of love continues to evolve.
Beauty reigns in eyes of the beholder.
Though years have changed our physicality,
Our pace is slower as we've grown older,
Yet in youth we remain, eternally.
Your aura shines so much brighter with mine
Because we have a love that is divine.
December 25, 2017
Sonnet's Salutation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
TO A POETIC TIME LAPSE
As the sharp rays
of sunlight slowly sliced
through the tarrying tinted clouds,
I wiped away the web
of darkness of night;
broke off a piece of time
and used it to scrape away
the corrosion of agony
from the heart of my mind...
and resuscitated my eroded faith.
Today I will open
dusty luggage of creativity
and pull out wrinkled war worn words:
etch ebony emotions of long lived life
onto refined pulp of trees;
weave soul stirring songs;
mould scented flowers
of peace and love; justice...
feel the breath of God
warming my serene sweet soul
while feathering the nest
of my pregnant poetic mind.
"The Tudor Rose, The Lion and The Sceptre of Light"
God bless
The Queen
Shield of Tudor Rose
and Lion rampant
the 3 of Lionheart,
guardant passant
Unicorn and azure harp
rose and thistle stand
with shamrock, connected
wars and battles
conflicted, a home
not seamless,
stands firm, apart
sanctuary is never easy
when grief is the price
we pay for love
duty bound
for Love,
of Her dominion
and Her people
Lion and Lamb
above all others,
at all cost, to self
constant Her
selfless shield of duty,
brave royal heart
arms never folding
outstretched
open wide apart
dieu et mon droit
"God and my right"
before Life, it starts
God bless
The Queen,
a life long lived
walking towards
Her sovereign,
now in sight
calls to Her
as if She
were a child,
halo crown
sceptre of Light
The Lion passant
her mighty Sovereign,
King and Lord,
now in her sight
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Queen Elizabeth II
(b. 21.4.26 - d. 8.9.22, 96Yrs)
I saw the saddest place today,
One grave,
Two babies
Lost the same day.
Ancient tree above them,
Not yet in leaf,
Covered with snowdrops,
Surrounded by grief.
Weathered stones around them
Tell of long lives, well lived.
Hard working farmers
Nothing left to give.
But these babies,
One six months, the other two years,
Shouldn't be here
In this place full of tears.
Instead, think of them growing,
First toddlers, then boys
Running through fields,
Playing with toys.
Next comes the man;
Then husbands and dads.
After long years of hard work
They're at peace, at last.
And then they return to this place
Cool and shady.
Well-loved, long-lived,
Not toddler, not baby.
13 April 2018
It is dangerous to walk into the conscientious realm of another,
To make love out of emotions long dreaded, long missed, and long lived
Each choice we make to discover in one another
Is sacred, momentous, and worthy of comprehensive purpose
We, in principle, are made for each other,
To live our lives in exploration of one another,
To breathe into the depleted lungs,
To bite the lip long quivering,
To dress wounds as if they are your own
I speak of unity, and I speak of strength
I speak of daring yourself to know the ins and outs of my terrain
Passing all impasses of disdain, sorrow, failure, and unimaginable pain,
They marvel because we matter
You stay because you understand
You understand because I have long dreaded this moment
I have long missed your breaths,
And I have long lived your fears
I have touched the lips that speak so clear,
Wrapping your surfacing scars against the balm of synchronization
A most treacherous climb into the safety of your arms,
I anticipate the choice you make each and every day
You know I wait, because you and I were made that way
In turn, challenging the rest to discern what we have long understood
It is okay to mourn
the rapid speed by which this treacherous virus
caught us off guard
Now we cope, we survive, some better than others
And for so many, too many
the dignity of dying has been denied
After a life long-lived, you were left to meet the great beyond alone
cut off from those who were in your precious circle
We grieve for you
We grieve for lost moments and time that cannot be recaptured
Crowded malls, movie theater lines, standing sweaty shoulder to shoulder
in packed concert halls and bars
nodding simultaneously to familiar tunes
We grieve the mundane, predictability of our former world
Crammed in trains with intoxicated hockey fans en route to the big game
We mourn the cold we braved together
the obnoxious fans of the other team
the homeless percussionist banging out beats for bread
on their white, plastic bucket snare drum
The fairs and festivals
The planes and anticipation of travel and adventures to come
I miss you deeply
my flawed, beautiful human society of the pre-virus days
I am sickened by what this virus has done to us
You made us divided and filled our heads with wild conspiracies
You kept us trapped in our echo chambers
You drove us apart when we most needed to stick together
You wore out our battle wearied soldiers of the front line
risking it all to keep us well
to be a last connection to the human world before fading into eternity
We can never forget what you have meant for us all
It is okay to grieve my beautiful people
We will
one day
be given back some version of our former world
it will look and feel different
We will have lost great people along the way
there are more days to fight
God speed.
An Affirmation is that you say to improve your health today.
It’s a prayer and potent, because you are willing something to happen.
The seek and you will find part as Jesus said ….and it works!
Why is Queen Elizabeth so healthy and long lived?
Because…
The Commonwealth peoples recite her affirmation daily.
God save our gracious Queen
Long live our noble Queen
God save our Queen
Send her victorious….etc
As a result of this good will, prayer she is very well and “long to reign over us.”
Because millions will this to be???
So make your own affirmation…recite it daily..and it will happen
I will get down to my chosen weight!
Yes I bloody will old mate!
Keep them chokky bars away!
I am bloody strong today!
Don Johnson
I love YooHoo,
I love wine,
I love your love,
It is devine...
Some hidden god,
Brought us together,
Once more again,
Satisfying,
A long lived yen...
Sweet is sweet,
And love is love,
The day we did meet,
Was blessed from above.
Today, I awake to see the sun
Not the case...for everyone
Grateful I am, to turn another page
To live another day...to age
Aches and pains grow more severe
Each day, each week...every year
My hair, turn gray...little there be
The strongest lens...I need to see
My ears are quiet, need hearing aide
Growing old, ya know...senses fade
Wrinkled hands, shriveled skin
Broken heart...deep within
'Cause I've grown old, a long lived life
Had some kids...had a wife
Watched my children grow each day
Until they wed, and gone their way
Many friends have met their fate
Why am I, to go...so late
I've done some good, I've done some wrong
I'll do some more...ere, I say...so long
To all my friends, I love you...much
I felt your love, I felt your touch
Thank you, friends...your precious gift
Your love you've given, my soul...a lift
A Contest on Aging Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
6-6-2019
An Elderly.
Introduction tells you,
Who shall you believe?
Listen sometimes to your senses
your sadness or your joy.
If you are downhearted you cannot
perceive any happiness or joy you will
feel stepped on.
Temptation tells you,
Who shall you believe? Even if you open
up a pathway, can you reinforce your legs
to take a stride without your cane?
Can you become independent mount
Up the stairs?
Can you open your Door pay homage
to your unfurnished Home? unable
to set up due to your age?
Or will you act as in a theater playing
the characterization of a tough actor
capable of running after its shadow?
Happiness shares,
Who shall you believe?
Your happiness tells you rotect your image
as if its still young.
Fly with your spirit like a butterfly,
venture through the clear skies.
Intercept your freedom
as long as its lasts.
Rejuvenate your thoughts to reserve
a seat in your positive will power
where you are your own master.
Weaknesses orders,
Who shall you believe?
when you slept young and woke up old.
Why tolerate that body transformation,
why presume you are still young when
definitely you are old.
Strength begs me,
Who shall you believe?
Why are you shivering before waking up?
Because you woke up old, you know it means
You are a looser.
Gather your strength to face your reality,
deny wanting the impossible to happen?
Seek, look, understand, seek, look, feel the truth,
if not, your fate today will wither.
Sorrowful prays,
Who shall you believe?
Your sadness orders you
Remain downhearted as you cannot perceive
Happiness.
Your friendly thoughts indicates you to look far
And open the entrance, where the philosophers
Meeting is taking place, enter and impose
your knowledge, dictate your long lived
teaching, allow yourself listen to the echo
Clapping at the end of your speech.
Courage is the truth,this is who you
should believe the you of the now.
This is accepting all of the above,
when I will come out from that
Door proud of my cane.
Nothing is impossible when I remain
hungry to want to live.
No matter how old or young, I am.
Therese Bacha
17 November 2013
Bites of frost fierce;
iced words did pierce
flushed flesh, soft soul
chilled as you stole
youth of my life,
long lived your wife.
We wed; blissed days
blest till your craze.
Mid-age, your mess
lust for me less,
as thrills I gave
you now don’t crave.
My angst for naught
in knots of fraught
tight twist my mind,
your grit does grind
strewn tears from eyes
pain’s gems your prize
plash at your feet
my dirge does beat.
Our love I mourn
my rose your thorn,
once in sweet bloom
lies’ stench does doom.
Sprung from spouse cage
red town's your stage
to soothe your doubts
raise hell, nude bouts...
go chase young things
can’t stop your flings
we’re done, I know ~
snowed neath cold woe.
The day has come, a smiling sun shines through bold bars, across the room to the door, ajar, projecting the bars on the door as if it is definitely and eternally closed to go out or come in.
The swirling, smiling haze of the past few days is slowly lifting. The rectangle of the open door has an attractive oblong shape the form of a mouth, telling me I am welcome to enter it - or is it leave? -
The bed has a mind of its own, it owns me, it thinks.... When I try to lift my arm, the bed stops me, stalling me, suspending my arm mid-air, by encircling my bony wrist, encompassing it with an iron grip. My peaceful plea, brought with ever so supportive but strong words that I cannot repeat here, has no result. The opposite is true, it does a sincere attempt to keep me there forever. Turning me into a spreadeagled, reluctant, foul-mouthed lover.
The door decides enough is enough. It squeaks, squirms and squeals, uttering a single, long lived OOOOOOOOoooooooooooo in a deafening ear-shattering pitch....
And in they run, the men in white, with their syringes and multi-coloured pills.
They beam benevolently at me, and then show the bed its rightful place: it's a bed, not a guard!
And shamefully it complies, clips open its claws, groans as I sit upright
Finally, the day begins!
***
May 4, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
I had a dream that I was a butterfly
winged iridescent; my life would flutter by
as I was dreaming a dream of a dream of
my own lepidopteron being above.
Hither and thither I flightily flitted,
or so it seemed, as illusion befitted,
with troubles, eidolons, and nebulous fears.
And thus it continued for one hundred years.
In the Nymphalidae family was I,
akin to the nebula high in the sky
with beauty Cithaerial shimmering bright
in colors that cover the spectrum of light.
Knots and shells detailed in this Hubble capture
glow in light show that can bring about rapture,
cause soulful poets to sing about gladly
(seeing a butterfly wing about madly)
or brood over sadly with soft doleful sighs
the ultimate stages before its demise.
Stargazers perceive it with scientists’ eyes
and give facts and figures astronomer-wise.
The lobes of Twin Jet PN M Two Dash Nine
expand ever outward in pinion design
from central star system, in gaseous streams
of splendorous rainbows pellucid in gleams.
The binary stars at the nebula’s heart
go round one another in luminous art,
spending a century in this rotation,
and form the wings through their stellar gyration.
But let us return to the classical theme
of the Chinese philosopher’s famous dream
(which these rhyming stanzas have sought to extol),
where I found myself playing a starring role.
Diaphanous butterfly wings had I then
in the long-lived dream that I dreamed ten by ten
decades lastingly onward in cosmic time,
as did Sleeping Beauty in legend sublime.
Yet when I awakened, no alae had I.
No longer was I slender winged butterfly,
but veritably was a human once more,
with life to engage in, encounter, explore,
or just suffer through in a sentient state.
How would I create my tellurian fate?
Still I wondered if this was ‘reality’.
Could I be a butterfly dreaming of me?
To die, perchance dream; ay, indeed that’s the rub
that makes us endure the heartache and hubbub.
For death claims all beings as part of its sum.
And in sleep of death, who knows what dreams may come?
~ Harley White
______________________________________________
Inspiration for the poem was from the article, “The wings of the butterfly ~ New Hubble image of the Twin Jet Nebula”, of August 25, 2015, on the Hubble Space Telescope Org website.
Burning Bullet
As a aromatic substance,
burning like a coolwater incense.
Keeping them in suspense.
I'm a queen I come with my own swarm of bees.
From throwing rocks to carring glocks.
I'm cocking my clip for the new verse that I spit.
Tearing them apart, ripping hearts.
Spilting heads laying them to bed.
My mouth is like a pistol, it shoots pitiless missile's.
You must not know about me.
I bring the heat any where I be.
To the left, to the left, a bullet staright to the chest.
This is my profession, I'm the one who professes!
Burning Bullet...
To true to the game, my style burning like a flame.
Keeping it gully from beginning to the end.
I love being empty within.
Drop the act, you'll stay a hood rat!
Why are you going through my fam like a photographic cam.
I'm a burning bullet...
Just to fantastic, personalitiy is magnetic.
Life style is justifiable justice,
to a journey to how I live this!
Coming up poor, to getting rich making them feel foolish.
A long lived existence....
a burning bullet!