Long Admiring Poems
Long Admiring Poems. Below are the most popular long Admiring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Admiring poems by poem length and keyword.
My soul is my guide.. Rumi
I once adored the warmth
of unreachable desires.
Ascending too high,
I fell from the sky just like Icarus.
Suffering from the flames of fate,
my eyes resembled a million candles
burning tears of wax.
But, I've always been familiar with fire,
as I was born scarred from internal inflames.
It's a blessing when strings of attachment
cremate into ashes.
Love is a vintage gold rose,
an irreversible ideology,
where thorns grow upon petals of pain.
In an autumnal aura, all scents fade,
so I remain in pale blackness -
my sighs as heavy as smokeless tar.
Yet, I know my soul will blossom,
once again with robins in Spring,
as scents of sweet almonds return
with the rebirth of roses without thorns.
In a world of imagination
the colours of love are boundless.
Romance is an opal rainbow over
stormy oceans yearning for turquoise tides.
If my heart was a gem,
it would reflect like a scarlet diamond,
walking upon malachite meadows,
full of ivory orchids with purple lilies,
admiring aquamarine skies,
with hues of amethyst and citrine.
We were all born to sparkle..
Under tones of indigo moonstone
with hints of pink,
my quill will scribble in lilac ink
as love always returns.
Simple Musing.
MEMORIES
As I sit still, admiring the setting sun,
I hear Latin music playing, filling my soul,
and I see the waves rushing to the shore.
The calmness of the sea fills my heart
and memories of lost loved ones fill my mind.
The Latin songs remind me of my father,
singing “Sabor A Mi”, while strumming his guitar;
dancing the Tango, he gracefully perfected
and the line dance Mambo, he led and mastered.
He was so gifted, so musically talented
with a beautiful singing voice and rhythmic moves
the ability to play several musical instruments
that he cheerfully shared with his good sense of humor.
The captivating sunset makes me reminisce
about the other loved ones, I’ve lost and miss.
They are gone and left memories behind,
that I treasure and will carry on forever in my mind.
Old Poems Free Verse (003) Poet Destroyer A
The soft gentle breeze caresses my skin, tiny ripples washing over me, as cool invisible fingers tickle each tiny hair. I shiver. The path beneath my feet is hard, the narrow veins between the stone uneven but smooth. Leaning down, my fingers explore each stone admiring the artisan's hand. Even cuts and natural imperfections line the face of the pavers from which imaginary flowers and birds and faces, that only I can see, spring to life. Each piece carefully selected for size and shape, puzzled together with perfect precision. The coolness of the stone feels blue like frozen water, or perhaps green like smooth moss. The air colder now I move on, hollow vibrations tingling my hand with each tap of my cane.
09/01/15
I am not one, but two beings in a single body,
A dance between a mature woman and a dreaming girl,
The woman calmly watches over the wild rebel,
Who ventures to the edge of the cliff without fear.
The girl runs and shouts to the open skies,
"I must live, we are not granted eternity!"
The woman feels shivers of terror but only watches,
Granting freedom as a precious, silent gift.
The girl adores snakes with their hypnotic skin,
And lightning that splits the sky with its light,
She falls in love without restraint, without fear,
Wearing pain like a medal of pure honor.
The woman, though she chose the land over the uncertain sea,
Remains there when the girl returns weary,
Offering warmth when the girl emerges from cold waters,
Together they share moments of silence and peace.
They meditate on raindrops dancing in puddles,
Admiring sunsets that paint the sky with silence,
In this dual universe, they find each other,
Living a fragile balance, full of meaning and magic.
I listen for him in every breath of the wind
Deciphering his moods so I can adjust accordingly
He comes to me in the form of a robin
Blue jay interference; they fight over my love.
I smirk as I see him appear in the form of a fern.
Tall and straight with a soldier’s stance; my soldier.
He delights me like no other. I sit in silence admiring him.
My daughter calls to try to lure me indoors, but I ignore it.
My husband is out here – in the form of an oak,
In the curve of the grasses. I can feel him watching me.
I resolve to stay out here until the stars come out
For that is when he truly gets playful and whispery.
Last night I heard Jane Goodall tell the story of her life of 90 years.
She spoke a lot about her mother…and of her own wishes, dreams and fears.
She spoke about her chimpanzees and their world which she loves living in.
How her mother taught her to judge people by what they do…and not by the color of their skin.
She spoke of how humans think we are separate from the animals…
of how when it comes to this planet…we think we are the heart of it….
but how….when it comes to the animal kingdom…we are only a small part of it.
And she wondered when it comes to our planet…
instead of admiring, loving, appreciating and enjoying it…
how the most intellectual creatures on the Earth…are the ones who are destroying it.
But at the same time she was telling us of her ups and downs…
holding her life under a microscope….
the words she used…even after 90 years…wove a tapestry of hope.
Yes, the more she talked…the more her tapestry of words unfurled…
for the people and other animals on this planet…she has a hope for a better world.
As she outlined reasons for her hope…one rested on all the young people
ready to pick up the mantle…to help fulfill her dream and alleviate her fears…
Which, I imagine, meant all of us…because everyone in the audience…
was younger than her 90 years.
We left her talk inspired…because as her tapestry of hope unfurled…
We know together we can…together we will…and together…we must change the world.
As I listened to this courageous and amazing woman…so wise compassionate and kind…
other women whom I admire popped into my mind.
For I believe if we want to live together in a more compassionate and peaceful way…
perhaps it’s time we listen to what the women have to say!
If we hope to live together in a world where no creature loses…and ever creature gains….
It’s time we listen to the likes of Maya, Emily and Carol…
(and you’ve already heard from Jane.)
In late March one starts thinking
of spring with those cherry blossoms
that a few days ago were small
buds, but frost kept them from
blooming and show their splendor;
would a fierce wind disperse them?
In a remote forest, there are firs
that cast shadows over paths;
from far one hears a horse
snorting as his hooves clip-clop,
wanting to stop and refresh
by the tiny pound swarming
with docks and they are startled
by his neighing and swim away.
I look up to measure the distance
between me and the firs' branches,
and waving they let sun rays gleam;
a hummingbird lands a few feet
from me as he warbles cheerfully.
I decide to take an afternoon nap
and lay on a bed made of fresh leaves,
above sunlight filters through the gaps
between the long branches tinted
with the orange pollen of hibiscus;
I sneeze twice frightening a squirrel
that is chewing on a bunch of walnuts
that someone has dropped intentionally.
Dusk comes and I am still napping heavily,
someone coming from the opposite path
warns me of snakes crawling at this hour,
" You don't want to get bitten by one of them! "
I get up still day-dreaming and thank him;
and following the same path, I took before,
I head home admiring the wondrous spectacle.
This may come off a bit inappropriately,
so I apologize in advance to everybody,
but for the love of god, Stop Freaking Praising Me!
Appreciation is not how any of your praise of me is received.
It Fills Me With Rage Actually!
Don't tell me how amazing you think I am.
Don't tell me that I have the biggest heart of any known man.
Stop telling me that the world needs more like me in it.
Stop praising, stop admiring, Just Stop It God Damn It!
Take all of that wasted praising energy,
And Direct It Where It Will Do The Most Good
for you and everybody.
The things that you find so remarkably performed by yours truly,
could be accomplished by any one of you, anybody,
and be accomplished quite literally effortlessly,
so if you want me to feel good for whatever good I have done
for anything, anybody or any one,
don't freaking praise me,
Assimilate My Behavior At The Very Least.
That alone would be very much appreciated by yours truly.
Stop Praising Me for any good I may have done.
Honor Me by assimilating my behavior, and take immediate direct action.
Joanna Davis
Sweet Madeline with her eyes of gray,
whose beauty could steal your breath away
With a body no shift or tunic could hide,
but admiring glances she took in her stride
Sweet Madeline with her eyes of gray,
would smile coyly, as she went on her way
Until Tom Bradley caught her eye on the Moors,
and her manicure hands turned into claws
Sweet Madeline with her eyes of gray,
stole Tom’s heart that very same day
She diced it with onions, paprika and spice,
then served it bien fait, on a bed of cold rice
Sweet Mad Elaine with her eyes of gray,
was still smiling sweetly...when they took her away!
“Beauty” - a word I often hear or say,
Like “love”, but, verily, what does it mean?
As youth or mem’ry, can it slip away?
I look, but beauty’s meaning is unseen.
Is it based just on the optical sense?
A golden voice too can be beautiful,
Or those traits beyond eye and ear, and hence,
Can one’s inner nature be suitable?
Is this conception absolute and fixed,
Or in the admiring beholder’s eye?
If inner traits hold the witness transfixed
‘Tis not his eye, but heart, that makes him sigh.
If by the watched, not the watcher defined,
Then, could beauty reflect a state of mind?