Long Airborne Poems

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


Premium Member I AM EVEREST

 I AM EVEREST, Ever So-High
 One that I AM with the Earth and the Sky's
 Ever-Soaring, I AM a Colossal at my peak
 Never Resting, Always Rising, Reaching for the Heavenlies
 Ever-Upwards above the Mists Of Sight
 Breaching the Ethers of Space Time,
 Majestic as the Valleys deep within
 I AM a Conqueror of Mountains,
 at my peak I Shine In Solar Opulence
 Airborne, I Pierce North in Transcendence
 Like a Nectar of the supreme, I Rendezvous with Infinity
 Soaring High Grounds a King Destined to be,
 Standing Tall like a Celestial Bastion Of Imperial Glory
 I AM EVEREST, EVER-LEGENDARY
 Ever-Thriving, I Reach High and Break Veils with Might
 One with Mother Earth, One with Father Sky
 Breathless, I'm Resurrected at High Altitudes
 Towering in Thundering Magnitudes,
 Victor Of The Valleys, I Transcend Upright
 I AM GLORIOUS, I Dance with Starlights
Form: Rhyme


Whispers of Anemone

She sits alone
In the chiselled grey of stone
In her thoughts so stubborn
Leaves airborne
Mostly unknown
The little that is known
Of the silence in her shapely bone
Is hidden in the tendrils overgrown
In her ringlet curls
Infinity neatly furled
Its splashes
In her eyelashes
Nestling her cares
Of the flowers of her prayer
What will be fair
To do away with or bear?
Thorns in the crimson air
Thoughts multilayered
Collected in thick braid of her hair

In her mental eye
She looks there
Reaping the pain she had sown
She sits alone
In a wing of the bird a desire
In the other a low moan
She sits alone

Look at her heart on her face
A melancholy grace
Blood inside in race
Yet moonlight likes to come apace
And fill the beautiful space
Near the flute of her nose
Near the eyelids closed
In contemplation
Of the waves in the ocean

A mighty tug of war
Between happiness and sadness
How lonely life has grown
Whispers of anemone

In the chiselled grey of stone
She sits alone
______________________________________
August 9, 2017
For the contest by Eve Roper

Premium Member The Sound of Snow

My ears hear the music of chiffon. 
A white satin curtain of snow 
billowing in the breeze. 
The avalanche is vertical, 
snow falling from the tip 
of the tree to the ground. 
An airborne assault 
starting with a whispered kiss 
then falling flakes brushing light 
the lips of outstretched pine, 
sharing a brief touch 
until the moment grows too heavy, 
the bough says adieu, and lets go. 
The snow alights to the stillness 
of another weighted branch. 
Held in tender arms 
for what seems eternity, 
then yields to kisses and lets go. 
Each fall more fluid, leaving 
sparkling gossamer trailings 
drifting slowly to the ground. 
A gift of pixie dust left for dreaming eyes 
by secret sandmen passing by. Swooosh! 
My eyes see the sound. 
Snowflakes falling, gently pushing air aside 
in their hurried rush to meet the earth. 
With succeeding kisses they gain 
in number and weight 
until none can resist their temptation.  
All who meet them join their procession 
a long and floating farewell. 
Their passing paints a white waterfall 
of crystal from sky to ground 
that makes a magic sound. Swooosh!  
Neighboring trees become envious, 
offering swoooshes of their own. 
In this rare distilled moment: 
after the snow, before the rain, 
when snow shows me the way of its song. 
Swooosh! My heart will remember the sound 
through the winter of all my tomorrows.

Every Yesterday

You were the sugar in my Lipton tea,

You were my exaltation and delight

Like April blossoms on a cherry tree

You made new life from water and sun's light.


I came to you and played inside your shade

And in your soft and gentle aura bathed

I sang to you a starlight serenade

And underneath your leaves my soul misplaced.


I left it there, and it is there still

But I got lost and can find you no more,

Was it the inspiration? Was it will?

I'm shorn of everything that I adore.


I saw in you the energy of love

And everything that's holy and divine,

And I can't say "my darling one" enough:

You were more tasty than the vintage wine.


Now I will never hold your hands again

Or press my lips to you or touch your heart,

I'll write you many poems, all in vain,

And we are many, many miles apart,


My soul is lost - where will it reappear?

I cannot find it - will you help me please?

Will you remember me or shed a tear

As I am calling you among the trees?


You lift, alight, become airborne and fly

And lift my soul where it would never go,

And as I look at you and ask you why

You only answer me, I told you so.


But what, alas? I'm gazing from afar

And maybe it is better off this way

For you, by now, have become a star

And I now dream of every yesterday.

Premium Member The Dandelion Wars

They came ashore unnoticed, alit lightly, quietly rooted themselves into our culture.  They spread, slowly forming small groups amid the ghettos of grasses and saplings.  No one took notice until the day a surging yellow field appeared.  Demanding to be seen, to be acknowledged, counted among the beauty of the countryside.  They infiltrated every strata of “flowerdom”, placed spies amid the city’s cracks and crevices, dropped airborne units into walled fortresses.  The battle was on!  Not so much a revolution as an insistence…on their presence, a forceful inclusion intrusion into our gardens, a reminder that all flowers had drifted, been carried great distances across mountains and seas by wind, feather, and driftwood.  And yet we ask: “Where did they come from?” “How did they get here?”  As if the questions were never asked about all the flowers at one time or another.  Why does the battle continue...in the streets, on the prairies, in back yards and tiny gardens?



roses flaunt their scent
all seek the honey bees kiss
weeds bully fresh sprouts


John G. Lawless
©8/18/2021
Form: Haibun


Oh To Touch That Light That Fans Across Your Eyes

Oh ! to touch that light that fanned across your eyes 
             the moment I began to pray.  
Like a thousand wings of eagles flapping in the wind 
      my heart soared to places  I had never been before. 

Oh ! to be that sun that spread across  my landscape 
  reviving my emotions and offering vitality.  
Like a million butterflies flying on ephemeral beauty 
          my soul moves through the air, 
     knowing their is nothing there, beyond compare. 

Oh ! to love with airborne arms & finally reach the sky 
               embracing every hour, with utter Grace
Like a million dollars washed away in rain I'd hold no value 
                except those diamond thoughts , 
                  that like thine own refrain, would say to me,  

"Oh ! to touch that light that fans across your eyes right now !"

Peace, Full



                    
                    The silence can seem cold and detached, 
              like a balloon or bubble in space.
          An Avatar with no face.
                But also can be warm and safe, attached, 
            if you are impending intently your confidence 
     in expecting wisdom, grace. 
            Because you can be instructed. 
                You can be reformed and formed again.

But is it the calm before the storm?
The aligning before the dividing, 
for an Armageddon.
Haven't you all been warned?
What is to come.
What has been released 
for its season to be airborne.
Circling directional winds 
in your media go round-rooms 
of advert admin, AdMen.
KY a healing balm of direlect dialect masokist-palm, I dream of, Djin e/bin hellogram.

Sting yourself, in from fires surround Town mounts, 
Sun Tzu-interns of hatred's pathogen of Abaddon's nadirNado dervishes of stooge 
N.O.W. playing at megaphone2, 
SoundCloud of Leviathan Tidal 
signatures turned blue. 
Bodycounts, tik tok views, news, 
pandelodeon dGorno bentai tentacled cartoons, 
escape rooms
with features of Blue Lagoon.

The Moon indeed thinks it is perma-stationed 
in Scorpio.
Aspected by Pluto and Mars- conjunct 
American Psycho, 
CSI, surgical- squares, 
transitionals Saturn mapping, 
tapping pixels at CERN, squared to everybody else, especially Family Matters 
and all the Moore'n to mourn. 
The Moon in the Eighth House, 
binary twin at the door to reboot.

Nowhere to hide no place to run.
Dare I say it.
The Age of Aquarius, an epic fail,
a replacement Theology, as sirens wail from.
Who's buying what their peace sells, sails on.
                          


              ~    I thought that they were angels
But to my surprise
We climbed aboard their starship...
 ~ Styx
art
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member August Blessings

Gentle light flows through the pines,
Inviting the oaks, the laurels, to sigh,
Echoing soft breath, smoke rising –
Mist in the sky, a moment of silence
Breaks the song, playing on the crisp morn’

This is summer’s sadness, when August
Shadows the heat, the sweltering thoughts
Erasing July quicker than sunlight erases
The dew from tender petals who remember
Only the beginnings of dawn’s presence

Soon, Autumn will write its lyrics in dancing
Leaves, vibrant promises of scarlet and gold,
Enchanting the dreams with laughing hues,
Music playing quietly on the still, cool morning
When a heart reaches through the misty air

This is the best recollection of the autumnal
Wings, airborne, soaring gracefully over the 
Trembling skies – into the endless veils, vapors
Still, ashen clouds, mysteries in the heavens,
Inspiring poetry from those who write visions…

Warmest wishes, feelings like leaves faded
Beneath the strongest branches, oaks and birch,
Inspirations beguiling the moon to heed the stars,
Blow away the doubts from the storms, rains falling
Melodiously, stirring the embers of a heart, a soul

August noon awaits the temptations so soon removed,
Washed away by the fond webs, the drying memories,
In tones of ashen amber, soothing auburn, reflections 
Breathing out psalms along the mountain ridges,
Repeating the trembling hopes, the dreams of a spirit

Eminent woes, memories peeled away in layers –
Intimate and healing, reassuring that fall will be what it will be,
Always alive with reflections, embraces, traces of hope,
Heartfelt desires and wondering affections kissing the truth,
Abiding inside those who know this is God’s unfinished painting –

This is the treasure of summer poured out in wistful
Memories and promises, prayers for the seasonal grace,
The inspirational – the thanks, given to the One who
Captured light and poured it across the earth in one enchanting
Explosion of amazing, marvelous, stunning – even the greatest poet
Can’t write a wonder like that –

His hand, His sculpture, His creation… baffles even the most confident artiste
With God, there is no impossibility and no reason for upset
With Him, not only autumn, not just august, but the entire heart
– the whole life, the entire soul – is blessed!

I Wanna Head Transplant

Yup, you red correctly,
     this noggin must go
     perhaps donated
     to the Salvation Army, or Good Will
cuz, said atrophied cranial
     horridly styled comfortably numb skull,
     the source of immeasurable

     beg hot ten woe, from dawn to dusk
     nothing boot eve ville
hollow cavity mainly comprised
     of wooly webbed weaving waste,
     uber sawdust, sans Schuylkill
     River effluvium and runoff rotten rill
hence, e'en a think tank

     designated as Abby Normal
     formerly atop a body named Phil
lip, or Wright winged Orville
one half brotherly duo,

     the other sibling Wilbur,
     whom both made a mill
yen legends getting airborne their lil
mechanical contraption

     atop Kitty Hawk,
     North Carolina with bi sic kill
mechanical aptitude,
     when born aloft Kill Devil Hill

synonymous making fin hushed
     blue prints emulating
     flying fish, whose grill
like cartilage backbone

     precursor to Evil
Knievel, who soared
     on his motorcycle a devil
lush daring stuntman, 

     whose helmeted crown
     full pursestrings muted cavil
ling critics with legitimate enterprise
     earning gobs of legal tender,

     whence aye aver
     his mugshot ought to appear
     on common denomination bill
and/or honoring throughout
     the entire month of April.

Wide Awake

I'm wide awake this time
Our love's a clever crime
Running on the stairs of heaven
Sometimes, I wish I feel alive again

I'm wide awake again in your awfully bizarre shoes
I wish I can feel alive this time
It's hard to even fathom your problematic issues
Our love's an extra mile crime
An extra mile crime 

I'm wide awake
I'm about to break
Save me from your shadows beneath
How do I lift up the vicious lion's teeth? 

If only you would save me, my dear
We wander our own way 'round here
I'm stuck in place in front of your face
While you're free in space in life's race
In vast grace…
Untie life's shoelace

I'm wide awake again in your awfully bizarre shoes
I wish I can feel alive this time
It's hard to even fathom your problematic issues
Our love's an extra mile crime
An extra mile crime 

I'm wide awake
I'm about to break
Save me from your shadows beneath
How do I lift up the vicious lion's teeth?

It's hard to express myself completely
In a rhyme all by myself effortlessly
Walking on the airborne edge for a while
Many times, I told you to run that extra mile

I'm wide awake again in your awfully bizarre shoes
I wish I can feel alive this time
It's hard to even fathom your problematic issues
Our love's an extra mile crime
An extra mile crime 

I'm wide awake
I'm about to break
Save me from your shadows beneath
How do I lift up the vicious lion's teeth?

If only I could relive the past and future prosperity
Me and you just can't get along like we used to simply
I'm sheltering you from the inner storm that whirls violently once more
You ignore my helping hand and left my young heart tattered and sore

I'm wide awake again in your awfully bizarre shoes
I wish I can feel alive this time
It's hard to even fathom your problematic issues
Our love's an extra mile crime
An extra mile crime 

I'm wide awake
I'm about to break
Save me from your shadows beneath
How do I lift up the vicious lion's teeth?

I'm wide awake and alone once again,
Running upon the long stairs of heaven
I wish to feel alive in your arms sometimes
I hope to make it on time before the bell chimes
Form: Lyric

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