Lost Idyll (Idyl) Poems | Examples
These Lost Idyll (Idyl) poems are examples of Idyll (Idyl) poems about Lost. These are the best examples of Idyll (Idyl) Lost poems written by international poets.
SIMPLY YEATS
My verse under Yeats’ carved door
he merrily chuckled at white
envelope, sketched butterfly
said he preferred to receive
verses this way rather
than reading them across
post-modern websites
He invited me to tea
we simply savoured small
cheese squares, crumbly
scones watching a squirrel
chomp a cheerful chestnut
lost and found
What word can describe
fleeting images of poets
graduated, yet living on ?
Vacant ….a vacancy
that awaits a word
wandering ethereal
manifesting ____
a lover expecting his
Beloved with cherries
a shadow across
poetic dreams
From generation to generations, thy redeemer lives
From age to ages, He never fails
In all dealings, thy conquer
He always come through, breaking chains and shackles
The undisputed CHAMPION, without dispute
Who is like thee, Our Champion... MOST HIGH in fairyland!!!
Always fair and consistent, Above
Elevator of, the Low at buttom
Finds the lost, makes a way
Beautiful and worthy in all ways, maker of heaven and earth
Breeder of light and dark, maker of night and dawn
Giver of all, relentlessly
Dynamic leader, catalysts of growth, catapulting the down cast
Sitted, above and below, rewarder of, the good and bad.
SENSE PLEASURE
Red honeyed apples
autumn leaves dewed
****** merge with sun streams
whilst children sleep dear dreams
Bobbing bubble baths
yogurt on hot chilli pie laughs
smell the sour dough
nourishment oh oh oh !
Blue moon paints front stoep
knobbly hand whispers stories
of heritages and future glories
skin ripples aptly rapt
Prancing clean laundry dance
mother’s milk in melting mouth
puppy grovels dirt digging south
sound frequencies simmer smoothly
Von Gogh sunflowers float in
mental notes skipping
Mozart phantom pianos airwaves
come dine alive then to jive
Pleasure finding the lost gazed
glance glimmer with God at no cost
Earth to Heaven find
THE JOYOUS JOURNEYED CONNECTION !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
2000
Sacred and profane love by Titian - 1514
Love divine
How it burns when it falls from the sky -
how it hurts when the water is done.
How it rains with the words half-denied,
When the world looks for fabulous suns.
How it aches when the feeling's away
from the roads that are fast and are clean.
How it roars when the lights are insane,
how they fatefully touch our skin.
How I pray for this love not to fade,
How I look for your eyes in the woods,
How we crave for emotional shade,
In each other we find our roots.
Profane love
When the touch dumbs us down -
when the shadows arise,
When in passion we drown,
when there's evil disguised.
When your kiss, black as night,
slowly turns on my key,
when your arms, full of might,
burn my fragility,
When we're fruitful and hot,
when we're lost in our dreams,
When we're tied with love's knots,
So profane we might seem.
06.05.2016
(c) Maryna Tchianova, Ukraine
The day when my heart was broken
The day when a tear was released
my heart like mirror, was broken
It had my face in each.
I wasn't able to believe my ears and eyes
Thought that this must be one of the ugliest lies.
I had lost someone who was the most dearest
The most precious diamond in the world
Who left his traces.
I wish I could meet him,one last time
to understand his pain,
I don't wanna let go of him in vain,
So happy we were
Such a beautiful day it was
Gigling and laughing,glinting eyes of my dolls,
Until we got a news
That pierced our hearts like a dagger,
He was our hero and will always be
though he had no magical powers
But everyone praises him as a hero
So do we,
He was tough,he was brave
He lost many times,but not as a renegade
My kids are now eger to grow older
And be like their father
Because HE WAS A SOLDIER.
Love divine
How it burns when it falls from the sky -
how it hurts when the water is done.
How it rains with the words half-denied,
When the world looks for fabulous suns.
How it aches when the feeling's away
from the roads that are fast and are clean.
How it roars when the lights are insane,
how they fatefully touch our skin.
How I pray for this love not to fade,
How I look for your eyes in the woods,
How we crave for emotional shade,
In each other we find our roots.
Profane love
When the touch dumbs us down -
when the shadows arise,
When in passion we drown,
when there's evil disguised.
When your kiss, black as night,
slowly turns on my key,
when your arms, full of might,
burn my fragility,
When we're fruitful and hot,
when we're lost in our dreams,
When we're tied with love's knots,
So profane we might seem.
06.05.2016
(c) Maryna Tchianova, Ukraine
A mother that hears the cry of her baby
does not turn deaf ears to show indifference.
A woman prepared for a culinary task,
by all means, gathers the condiments required.
A barricadoed road, however restrictive,
suffices not to keep an incubating hen off her eggs.
A nocturnal darkness does not stand to disorientate
a hand to miss its way to the mouth.
Scavenging any available heaps in sight
reflects the missing of a valuable.
Tanka
I had so many dreams
They laughed the ones who had lost theirs
Told me I was a fool
But in their laughter I sensed their tears.
Tanka
There am two of me
One goes to hospital a lot
The other drives a bike
Thinks he is going to live forever
The sick knows better
Love love love I lay my hands over you and rest
beside you as I see the stars blinding my thoughts, my mind,
making me a living socket of rejoice.
Proportion as a day may seem but mind me not
for I seek and desire to spend it all with you, right in your arms.
My love I am addicted to you,
please take me not to the rehab
for I won’t mind to die high of you.
My dreams are attached to you,
my smile is defined by the love you give to me.
My love I am infected by you,
please take me not to the hospital
for I won't mind to die fully blown by you.
My thoughts are drawn by your love,
my happiness is a smear of your heart.
My love I am crazy in love with you,
please take me not to a pastor or sangoma
for I won't mind to die completely lost in you.
My heart beat relies on how much you love me,
my laughter is a true expression of my satisfaction.
Huldra
In the green valley
Near lake blue and pink salmon
Lived a huldra
Beautiful in human eyes
But trolls had rejected her
Ugly in their eyes
I heard her desolate song
Saw her shimmering
Blond as Iberian sea straw
Made gold-leaved by the sun
I saw her tail too
And before she charmed me
Sprinted for my life
Since folklore has made it clear
Human and trolls may not mix
Because if they do
The offspring will be rejected
By trolls and human
And for perpetuity be lost
Walking the strand of loneliness
(Huldra, Female Troll in Nordic mythology)
They have bad renomé and that´s a pity)
I'm lost in the sound,
lost in the music,
trapped in the decibel,
caged by the keys,
hidden in the rhythm.
The maze of harmony
complicates my gyrations
controls my movements.
Encore, over and again
is the pattern of this composition
I'm lost in the sound,
i dont wanna be found.
Unheeded in the spread of his name, quaking
Through the knit brow cuddling the sombre eye
Twice buckled into the couch of his yearning
The mouldy cast of unsculptured hands, moulting
In the surging sweaty cries' unexpected sigh
Sooner lost than won with unrenewed longing
Every day, every night in chastened haste, calling
That one face, one hand trembling on bosomy thigh
Through all the twigs of his knotty brooding
Mighty log in the dismembered chips, raking
In uneasy orgasms of a protracted lie
The woman clasped in the memory revolting
Fleshy hair to press, hovering nostrils, drinking
In the incensing vapours, and that face a wry
Screaming in the rubbing spasm, a bloody cursing
All, all and more, and the biting shame, clawing
Now at the name, silently growing, that shy
Child of old hopefully shared and lingered moaning
© T. Wignesan, 1960, first pub. in "Forum Academicum", University of Heidelberg, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
What color is it? that luminous llght,
throwing patterns past midnight under my archway,
and on the sandy beach of our island ocean,
where I used to wade home in the surf
from Moore's dance floor, where there was a real,
live band on Labor Day at summer's end,
where window after window facing the roiling
sea brought a salt aphrodisiac, as if
the moon was not enough.
Is it the pale blue blend of Roquefort, or
more like Stilton, color of cream, more radiant
than light spilled by the indecent bright glare
of the Sun God? It's the midnight stare
of the Maid In The Moon, no matter its color.
She wakes us from sleep to place our feet
in her deep-cast beauty, to trouble our hearts
for lost youth and love, and if she's not
made of cheese, as folklore tells us-- No
matter! She brings us to our knees.
North of here
behind the lighted walls
beyond the hills of cloud
and towers of ruin
lies a land of bliss.
In her coffers, dwell
perpetual serenity
clement elements.
Men can only dream
to sieze this paradise.
But its route and path
is jagged and broken.
Even the water,
threatens to swallow
her skirt.
She's been called lost
but still, round the
corner
there may wait a new
road
or secret gate
that opens her warmth
and reveals her
splendour.
Shall we commence,
on this quest of faith?
Cobham,
Friends we are before the the aparty sets in
Our souls knitted and knotted with dreams
Sharing whiskey and wits in the winds of life
Chattering doubts, and charring chagrin
Today, as foes we fool ourselves because of her
Pulling the triggers of revenge on each others minds
Does she really worth it?
Yester night, i saw her in the pool of lust with another man
Here we are contesting over imaginary love.
awoh awoh