Long Aire Poems
Long Aire Poems. Below are the most popular long Aire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aire poems by poem length and keyword.
Clothed in Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness-
Autumn-Naked in translucent clouding dusk;
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”
Your illusionist premises grandeur;
Fallen autumn, calm leaves me;
Brisk equinox clothed in breeze;
Over whelming weathers your view
Spring-Lavender spirit smells your soul;
Misted aire fallen dew;
Season of mist spring may I kiss you;
Midnight comes covers you;
Black clothed in dark;
Still a silken view;
Season change your wardrobe to;
Mist of autumn destitute;
Winter-Now falls winter time briskly shines;
The dew now snow, white you’re wearing;
Falling hanging down to your ankles;
Your illusionist premises grandeur;
Darling beautiful environmental dresses you wear;
Skies/sky-blue and white the color of your hair;
O’ as mine eyes witness…your;
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”
Summer-Naked in ablaze in heated glare ;
Smoking people stare it’s so hot skin vapors liken a mirror;
Humid wears you the silken fabrics;
O’ as mine eyes witness…your;
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”
1/29/20
For Famous poetic lines that inspire Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” Line By John Keats
con todo mi corazón
amo
Mi vida es tuya
Mi amor
~
con todo mi corazón
amo
Mi vida es tuya
Mi amor
with all my heart
I love
My life is yours
My love
In every love there's breath
My darling you are my air
con todo mi corazón
amo
Mi vida es tuya
Mi amor
En cada amor hay aliento
Cariño tu eres mi aire
with all my heart
I love
My life is yours
My love
In every love there's breath
My darling you are my air
You are, you are
your my breath of fresh air
as we kiss we do stare (we share) environment
Ooh, my darling heaven sent
with all my heart
I love
My life is yours
My love
In every love there's breath
My darling you are my air
con todo mi corazón
amo
Mi vida es tuya
Mi amor
5/25/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Rental rebate plus affordable rent...
After wing and prayer
granted courtesy The Flying Tigers
at long last located valuable information
issued December of each year
surprisingly enough exactly where
social security (2019) 1099 form
remained untouched, I swear
yet earlier yesterday at 1200 hours
February 27th, though very near,
and finally located necessary documentation
(think rental rebate) here
with unexpected discovery
birthed following poem aware
many if not all avid readers
will not care, nor give rat's ass
regarding humdrum minor dilemma
involving one bonafide
*****sapiens merely
bruising himself - garden variety biomass,
nonetheless, he fetes, lauds, tauts...
rental rebate tantamount
approximating financial reimbursement
without being unduly crass.
Thus reasonable rhyme
yours truly doth aire
without stut... stut...
stuttering, yet no guarantee
wordsworth their weight
in gold will ring clear
more likely receive
frosty reception everywhere
across world wide web,
perhaps with unwelcome glare,
yet profuse apology
if man with wit - me,
(i.e. whitman) didst unwittingly interfere
with unwanted distraction
courtesy bobbing square
pants donned sponge
soaking up precious time (yours)
foolish longfellow rushing in where
one capricorn long since wed
not nsync, but alone, cuz angels fear to tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"
more familiarly recognized as Q.E.D.
(shares close pronunciation with quid)
ditch costs extra horse sense according to Ned,
whoop sorry, I meant mister Ed.
Far moost o' me
three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer
(spins upon the global axis
(tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied
for Pete's sake by Gabriel
blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
points to thermonuclear
and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing
theoretical armageddon,
when non plus ultra gravitates
with e pluribus unum necessitating
each individual to bend over
and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless *****
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
incinerates e'en
the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid
dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
temperature nearing triple digits
(along Eastern Seaboard
of United baked States
makes this human,
an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)
basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
creature comfort donning my
stretched out birthday suit,
(yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
mountain of clothes
as mooch as Yukon sales,"
no matter mine ill mannered
mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or
laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,
thy orgasmic passion linkedin
with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
Interlude III (This is All This is Life)
This is all
I am not afraid of this life;
This is OK with me;
This is all
All that it is;
This is life this is OK with me;
This, this, this is I'm not afraid
This is, this is, this is all
And it's not OK
Love and life is not by me;
This is how I survived, my misery;
This is my life realized
This is OK with me
This is all, all that it is
This is life. . . .
Interlude IV (Glory, Glorious Day)
Glory, glorious, glorious day;
Glory, glorious, glorious day;
Pain, pain, pains shine as the rays of sun;
glory, Holy grievous time of;
Hurt, hunger, I shall be contrite
I shall not, I shall not, and I shall not be revised
Glory, glory;
Glory, glorious, glorious day;
Glory, glorious, glorious day;
Pain, pain, pains shine as the rays of sun;
glory, Holy grievous time of;
Hurt, hunger, I shall be contrite;
I shall not, I shall not, and I shall not be revised;
Glory, Glory;
(Glory, Glorious Day)
07/18/75
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
from music composed and arranged by Chip Davis
words conceived around the Fresh Aire Album
Mannheim Steamroller
The café was crowded,
we were seated on the porch;
lunch’s wait was quite a long one.
The adjoining flower garden drew butterflies and wing- dancing hummingbirds; they sipped nectar from the feeders that hung between towering sun flowers.
Multi-colored finches vied for black oil seeds with sparrows, wrens and a dove or two.
Occasionally, this diverse populace gazed into the porch window at us, as if we were performers in a dinner theatre.
Colored flora blended graciously with the color burst avians; fluttering butterfly wings leant a magical aire to nature’s live painting.
We sipped raspberry tea, with our free, late lunch.
We took the magic with us into the week; life seemed miraculous, despite the weekly grind;
magical moments savored.
Fresh air, fresh air you will find
A warm spring breeze
There is some kind of quietness
And God will be there waiting
Gentle portions of missive cool but wholesome breeze
Pollen around the trees
Grasses blowing in the wind
As a fresh new baby bird sings
And I found all of this beautiful
Fresh air
Is an invisible space
Fresh air
held up by the wind
Lord I hope you can
Comfort me again;
And I found all of this beautiful
Fresh air
Is an invisible space
Fresh air
A light gentleness
As the wind balms it caresses
And God will be there waiting on
I gentle passions of memories cool but wholesome love
And I got me and the Lord says
And I got Him I'll keep singing sing
keep bringing on grasses blowing in the wind
A fresh new baby bird now sings
And I found all of this wonderful, so beautiful
An invisible space held up by the wind and grace
Lord, I hope you can comfort me again, again;
A light gentleness as the wind balms blows by it caress, fresh air
And I found all of this beautiful
Fresh air
Is an invisible space
Fresh air
held up by the wind
Lord I hope you can
Comfort me again;
And I found all of this beautiful
Fresh air
07/18/75
Written words & Arranged music by
James Edward Lee Sr.
base off of Fresh Aire/Mannheim Steamroller Album
Prolonged offal bout courtesy constipation... redux
a worse hellish fate than perdition
At least forty eight hour time span
lapsed whereby big boy wanted to cry
explaining how yours truly
felt he would die
an undertaking malaise
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement,
wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy,
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over
with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright
(with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed on a previous occasion
to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil,
which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product
didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lxii year old married male
to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure
to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered out
five foot and ten inches of lovely bones,
thence mouthing retraction
of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever
in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last
provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener
scrutinizes his recurring
pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
As of early August 20th, 2021-
I finally move bowels but...
mine whole body felt
analogous to sluggish mollusk
stasis of lower bowel found yours truly
doubled over in gastrointestinal agony
as if elephant or red (livid with rage)
bull thrust his tusk into mine tush
ah...voila... hence subsequently I tout
blessed magic of laxatives
Amitiza, Dulcolax, and Miralax
relieving lower abdominal and rectal
discomfort agonizing me dawn to dusk.
Born in Hamler Ohio
Child of Louis F Davis Sr
Lived in Portland and Savannah Ohio
Study at the University of Michigan
Specializing in the bassoon a percussion
Overcame fusing
Modern popular and classical techniques in music
Worked as an advertising jingle songwriter
Challenge by the toning down of his music
Started his own record label personal traits Davis founded Mannheim Steamroller in Omaha Nebraska
Always written suburb instrumentals and verses
Never gave up best known for his revolutionising
The Sound of traditional Christmas music
Fresh Aire
11/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2019
less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over
with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil,
which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product
didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
to cease livingsocial would try
humph enjoining
this lvii year old married male
to cede victory
to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure
to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction
of former thought to cease existing,
though a non-bull lever
in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last
provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks
a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?