Long Abodes Poems
Long Abodes Poems. Below are the most popular long Abodes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abodes poems by poem length and keyword.
In the secluded seashore of isolation islands,
people build desire castles with dream sands,
protect the fragile precincts with fervent care
from the beleaguering waves breaking on them.
The strife surge washes away the forlorn abodes,
grief is hidden in insular souls of lonely people.
With magical spell I will change them into
convivial people, they will be gregarious.
Behind the closed windows on sunlit meadows,
enveloped by the seamless drape of dismal darkness,
people morph into dense slices of moonless night.
Along their formless periphery I pass them by,
but can’t see through the obscurity, can’t perceive
the true substance of the opaque people.
With magical spell I will turn them into
transparent people, they will shine like crystals.
Reticent people fly like frigid birds in the misty sky,
their restrained wings flap aloof in the chilled wind.
In the crevasse of their glacial hearts
frozen emotions sink, can’t soar in the spring sky.
The warm embrace of empathy they don’t feel,
for they are condemned as cold people.
With magical spell I will convert them into
affable people, they will conform congeniality.
Despondent people make their lives desolate desert,
the charm of oasis desiccates in the dunes of discontent.
Blazed by the flare of their scorched minds
the foliage of ardent passions burns, doesn’t rustle
with the tune of impassive melody of their hearts,
for they are denounced as wooden people.
With magical spell I will transform them into
verdant trees, they will sprout joie de vivre.
______________
February 28, 2023
For Brian Strand Premier No. 1192
Abodes decorated with illumined candles,
Diyas symbolize our inside glowing fire,
The incense burns gleaming, the candle softly melts,
Spreading the aroma of our fervent desire.
Follow the fire, aglow lustrous and luminous,
Our forlorn heart glitters with its glistening shine,
Pursue future with compelling passion and strength,
Do not surrender, do not lose hope in divine.
Countless obstacles in path may not refrain us,
Radiant fire inside illuminates our soul,
Tranquil calm outside, resolute rebellious heart,
Not crushing defeat, triumph - the striving goal.
Search for light within us, aspiring and sublime,
Shining light that can not be vanquished, never die...
Unconquerable spirit of our ancestors
Paths hazardous and arduous, minds are high.
Wish I was one of those mucky mucks
Like the ones that are running the show
Could do as well as those guys up there
Though I'm simply a 'run of the mill' Joe
With power comes a lot of temptation
Like the deals they make under the table
They say that absolute power corrupts
That's not one of your Aesop's fables
Things can change when you reach the top
When greed rears its ugly head
It clouds a person's perspective on life
Most important, the greenback instead
Mucky mucks have big scads of cash
And reside in expensive abodes
Are they really happy, really content
Any more than us 'run of the mill' Joe's
Some may say yes and some may say no
They're just people like you and me
Souls who've wandered off course in life
They've forgotten the importance of 'we'
Wish I was one of those mucky mucks
Naw, on second thought maybe not
Much rather be happy than stinking wealthy
Content with what I've saved in a sock
© Jack Ellison 2012
Voices in the field,
They summon us from our abodes,
Is it hell’s road?
We take gentle and fearful
steps to see what summons.
The wind sighs and sings,
The wheats dance to its rhythm,
No one stands in the field
We wonder if the wind had made the call.
Suddenly like a flash of lightning,
The voices emerge,
We are startled but not rattled,
The spirits have come to
move through the field.
Our fields have been
troubled by a recalcitrant blight,
It has been a frantic fight,
The elders have summoned the spirits,
They have come to battle the malevolent forces,
Like knights on warrior horses.
April 17, 2024.
dead end street …
mostly elderly when we came
always quiet …
empty nests side-by-side
aching for spring
but winter came instead
(the winter of life)
friends … good people -
town folk who raised this little
borough with pride
came to this blind alley to wait for God
and He obliged …
one-by-one, this road of
retirement rolled over …
the reap saw these quiet abodes
flipping fast and furious
and the once-aged occupants were
replaced with families -
young professionals and upstarts
fresh-woven nests filled with
chicks and younglings -
little voices and wings to test
upon the breeze
training wheels and swing sets
where lounge chairs once grazed lazily
backboards and rollerblades
and a valid reason for the ice cream
truck to loiter, it’s silly music box
jingling the afternoons with cold, tasty
wonder-in-a-cone …
time - passing like a subway car -
just a flash in the dark …
grain-by-grain the
hourglass steadily sifted
and a once-peaceful lane became
a circus of activity -
giggles and screeches replacing the
silence with the music of life
the rarely-a-car avenue, vibrant and joyous
picnics and lawn parties
birthdays and showers and fireworks
playballs left unattended
bicycles laid at the curbs in a rush
pets being walked
and the commonplace, everyday things
started being … every day …
oh, no mistake -
I loved the quiet when we came
and tho’ I dread the winter months now -
the post-Christmas cold, dead and
long-dark days, grinding on me
like a ragged old dirge -
that quietude and peaceful contemplation
is STILL one of life’s greatest
“little pleasures” to me …
yet … it’s the NOISE that I’ve come to
miss the most this time of year -
those little voices of
youth and vibrancy that sing me
through the warm months,
reminding me what being here is
all about, and making me
yearn more than ever
the sweet, joyous, callow kiss …
of Spring.
(Photo of Maplewood Drive by yours truly)
In the frozen grip of winter's chaperone,
Cinderella gets walzted in like a dirty faced hussy.
As light and darkness stand side by side
in a battle for her supremacy.
Godmother has the ground vermin rousted up
from their hidden abodes.
Busy fashioning her apparels and pearly things.
But kissing in their modes.
Dreams that have lied dormant promise the moon,
meets with sunbeams fresh advances, with golden threads of dress-up in swoon.
New pickup lines and peer reviews
to peak at her pinnacle lines.
Fresh new light clings to the hem of misty morn,
sown at her delicate feat, like diadems.
Promised in consecrated dew-drops newly born.
The fowl caress the air in synchronized swim,
in salvos of savoir faire,
bannering rehearsal,
the reversal of Death's Nadir.
Much work to do in presenting.
Gonna have a good show.
Godmother tends to her proper dress.
Tries to tone down her exude of amoress.
Winter looks tacitly, concerned-
from the cold distance,
but is lit up by the way Spring looks back
in her gratitudes,
when she turns,
bows and curtseys at her complicit,
Majesty.
There are so many creatures in the animal world, both tame and wild, that survived for centuries.
Plants and trees are enclosed in the same picture where the strong and bold have reigned supreme.
When Science classified the existence of different identities and characteristics of various earthlings, the terms "flora" and "fauna" were coined. Plus "biota" in distinct regions and "biome" or ecosystem where all earthlings come and interact together.
The scientific names of land and water animals including the plant and tree names are all enclosed in the same capsule wherein humans are also named distinctly and characterized.
So what's the connection of the "tempered lily" on this page?... As humans, we can be like Victoria Amazonica under any weather condition or situation. Use your imagination if you still believe in fantasy and wyverns!
Long time ago, a group of small plants lived on land. And almost all of them only survived on dirt or soiled grounds. When wild animals roamed and conquered the earth and all plants never grew as trees for being consumed rapidly, land spirits or sprites of the ground thought of moving some plants from dirt to waters to protect and preserve the everlasting glory and beauty of nature. Land spirits or invisible ghosts are dependent on life's physical forms, that's why they cannot let the material structures around them to disappear. Only because of the modern Science and technology that the peaceful world of plants on soiled grounds are destroyed and vanished due to quarrying and human exploration. Displaced land spirits before they were totally driven away by time had the opportunity to shift or immigrate from dirt to waters. The giant water lily (Victoria Amazonica/Regia) that fascinated the human eyes is one plant that land spirits strengthened and tempered to prove to the World that there is strength in softness and resilience in chaos. No wonder, these lilies that you will find in the area of Yucuruchi and waters of Guyana are being carefully monitored and maintained by humans themselves. Believe it or not, these giant lilies are the safety abodes of the the same host spirits of the old natural world that the present time is still keeping!
Sound weird, isn't it?
Innocent young lives abruptly changed
When brutal war arrived at their doorsteps,
Turning makeshift shelters into their abodes
As bombs ruined neighborhoods and roads.
Delicate young souls understood very little
When living became a pile of torn-up rubble
Bearing no likeness to what once was normal
As look of disgust occupied entire existence.
Fear transformed into acceptance of cruelty
As supplies for meek survival became a rarity.
Where innocence once lived anger took hold
When virgin-minds became angry soldiers.
Rescue never came, turning anger into hate
As grief became despair at a very young age.
Without basic care, disease reigned misery
Dissipating young minds into hapless calamity.
If wisdom gains vitality, hope will rise again
And compassion will illuminate world stage.
From ashes of nightmare, can dreams originate
Holding a toy of joy, like children of their age?
February 11, 2018
Placed first in standard contest 165 by Brian Strand
Like fire we rise 'pon the breath of the dawn.
Eager and burning, our futures unclear.
Valiant as the lion, tender as the fawn.
Unpredictable embers with passions so near!
Yet, time is a line we are doomed to traverse.
We find ourselves marching melancholy roads,
flanked by bright crystal and hailed by verse,
still, the end is apparent; see? There it abodes.
At last comes the gloaming, the fire chokes out.
We fed on our ashes until they were gone.
Our bodies are frosted, there can be no doubt:
Rich pathos- our plead can never go on.
Forevermore, then, in our palace of ice.
We will lie, in the darkness, and never think twice.
9 August 2017
Written for "Eight Word Challenge-3" contest, sponsored by John Hamilton
Postcard perfect- a picturesque town
Where the locals come to wind down
A hidden gem, a park of simplesse
An oasis, heavenly, it's beauty bequests
An art form to behold, a sculpture; nature's showpiece
Serene and tranquil in the heart of the city
A stream lined with a plethora of trees
Every color showcased upon their leaves
A vast variety, Each the opposite from the last
No comparison, within it's contrast
Harmoniously standing together
A strength against stormy weather
Surrounded by majestic abodes
So grand, each and all, becoming stories told
A backdrop- regal mountains- not seen before
Only Nature could compose such a musical score