Long Alights Poems
Long Alights Poems. Below are the most popular long Alights by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alights poems by poem length and keyword.
Aged and spent,
this veil is rent;
through worlds unseen,
the earth grows green.
As etheric touch,
is felt so much;
one learns to discern
the twists and turns.
For those who see
between the trees
and hear with ears
beyond mortal years.
As boundaries stop
the earthly clock;
no turning tides
on moonlit nights.
Revealed, the future,
yet to be nurtured
and a past explained,
of lives maintained.
The seer well knows
the spiritual flows;
the reader knows the signs
of grand design.
Pay close attention,
avoid dissention;
your intuition,
brings fruition,
It’s simply gifts,
that can uplift;
the soul, then alights
and soars to new heights.
In-between the realms;
spirits at the helm;
mysteries untold,
will soon unfold.
How peaceful this one afternoon in June.
The people in their homes seem tucked away.
With everything about me, I’m in tune
while from my big back yard I now survey
the color of Crayola sky in blue,
a backdrop for the trees Crayola green.
As clouds sit still, a white tail passes through
some cauliflower clouds, and now unseen,
it trails a jet to lands that yonder lie.
A tiny butterfly alights on ground,
and on my fence a single dragonfly
has residence, content to be around.
Both sun and wind are mellow, and a bug
orange and black now gives my skin a hug.
For Joann Grisetti's
Memories of June Contest
Into the oceans eye of weather storm, my thoughts drown,
stumbling each, upon each other’s trailing synapse falling;
and I admit occasional trip to somehow set them down;
a forceful fitful leisure unbeknown.
A silent sound at times to overwhelm and sit beside me
in this madness moment, baffled.
Stuffed and stuffing to overflow my good neighbors air
portioning me a couplet or two to share.
And I shall drink til drunk and think til thunk
and when tis done will mortify no more.
The blasphemed eye removed to backward stare
as I shall know my counterpart with part of every hair.
For I am the mirror of my soul and the countenance contained
in every star; beads of every slow collected jar.
The stones upon the shore all bear my name.
I am the air between each tongue of flame
and I am the flame between each draft of air.
I feel such grounded freedom as my soul alights to soar.
See with inward eye the knowing pearl to pour
Outward stretch my own return.
No boundaries must I learn.
For every tear the ocean’s cry, I think to pause
for do we not in all our wonder,
All our haste and pristine beauty;
Seek outward all effect with inward cause.
I kiss the tears the ocean cries to salt the wounds
of my goodbyes and hesitate to breathe one breath
for all the singled glories passing, as do I, in death.
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.
PARTICIPATION
Will my verse reach your ear
can your eye stay the course
listening,then writing my verse I awake ,
content until the next time,
the chords at my finger tips drift
back and forth into a song.
Take a deep breath,exhale and
read between my lines
An image alights as a butterfly in spring,
a thought arrives as inspiration on the wing.
An idea resides to crystallize and
brings each together as one.
Does convention confound
the rhythm of your eyes
Oh to avoid convention's game
make the image surreal upon my page.
a Stop,dear reader in your stride,
bring forth your imagination and join me on this ride.this
in the realm
of the mind,
replete with thoughts
inspiration thrives,
discerns over spills,
to reveal
then configure
and emerge:
a fragrance
to dwell,stay
and perhaps
haunt another
(Dedicated to one of my childhood friends)
You were one of those charming lilies
that bloomed, so fresh, in my springtime pond;
when my homesick wings of longings flutter and soar,
and my mind alights
on the periphery of the playparks of the past,
I reminisce all the little fun we had
along with our other friends -
as we strolled through the narrow trails
in the verdant flowery meadow
that sprawled near our school
during the tender years of our lives.
The giggles and the laughter
the chuckles and the chatter -
those shrieks and the squeals
that baffled even the needles of time
to forget their own pace
and hop and waltz along with us.
Then roads diverged, new air we breathed
as we took new paths to pursue our purposes in life.
Years later, you arrived once very near my place
yet we could not connect and get ourselves to meet.
That day when we talked on the phone
and I heard your voice after a very long time,
my mind leapt for joy and soaked for some time
in a summer drizzle of rainbow memories -
of those I had long forgotten
as you reminded them to me in our chat -
they linger on like pleasant petrichor.
Later, I tried to recollect and sing our childhood songs
rhyming it perfect with the
unrhyming clamor of our choruses.
When commitments in work and family responsibilities
seem to have rusted the gate to my nostalgic dam -
your call was the key to open it - and when creaking opened
wistful emotions gushed forth
to form an ocean of yearnings
to be a child once more.
You revived the puddles of my mind with paper boats
that carry leaves, stems, and flowers of fond memories.
I felt like a gleeful kite in the vast blue,
fleeing for a moment from the humdrum day.
You will forever be the same charming lily
adorning my little lake of most treasured blossoms.
My bestie, my soul-sis.
Is it autumn, when silence has come to a lonely lakeshore?
Throngs of reveling summer tourists are flocking here no more.
Is it autumn, the water's sitting still in the swimming pool?
The rowdy children have gone, unhappily, back to their school.
Is it autumn, when the blooming gladiolus have been lost?
Tonight, the garden's bounty will be bitten by our first frost.
Is it autumn, do golden cornstalks hang heavy with their yield?
The farmer has a scarecrow propped, out standing in his field.
Is it autumn, the pumpkins have no orange spattered 'round them?
Their deep green color is fading now, up near the browning stem.
Is it autumn, the farmer has left his apple orchards bare?
The spiced aroma of baking pies goes drifting on the air.
Is it autumn, when the gathering geese ready to fly south?
Two neighbors saw them yesterday, I have heard, by word of mouth.
Is it autumn, with dying leaves turning shades of rust and red?
The maple tree's timbers brave the wind as they begin to shed.
Is it autumn, with ever shrinking sunsets and chilly nights?
There comes a whiff of warm woodsmoke as the first fire alights.
Is it finally the day when autumn will at last arrive?
Twelve months ago was a long, long time to wait to feel alive!
Date - 8/26/2022
(15 syllables per line)
Dragonfly Afloat on the Lake
A dragonfly afloat on the lake
Flaps its wings to keep from drowning.
With its life in the balance, it senses hope
And boards the paddle I nudge into place.
Slowly, I draw the oar out of the water
And watch the dragonfly bask in the sun.
Now recuperated with dried wings,
The insect alights on the boat’s gunnel.
I contemplate the situation, seeking a higher meaning,
Wondering if it understands fate or destiny
And canoe towards the shore for its safety.
Or is it just an instinctive reaction?
That brought us together in this crisis
As it flies away, leaving me with a memory.
IF 'HE' HADN'T COME AND BORE HIS CROSS...I COULDN'T BARE MINE. AMEN.
Many concerns are on my plate
so many worries…tranquility escapes
I look to the right and to the left
but only find more troubling depth
In this vacant alley…I feel lost
like there is no end…just cost
Then, in a fragrant whisp, I’m reminded…
of a road, and barn…to which it winded
Light glows…from a heavenly candle
that slowly moves across…midnight’s mantle
My soul’s eye…follows its course
‘til it halts, beaming as a guiding source
From an ass…a tended virgin alights…
large with child…the hay a blessed site
A cry comes forth…awakening the world
for A Child is Born… a prophesied hurl
And as shepherds and magi rush to the scene
my shoulder’s yoke morphs…a peace…serene
The Joy of the Season which I had evaded
now enters my heart and I am elated
I hear a choir…of the heofon kind
announcing the Savior…of all mankind
Though my troubles are still yet the same…
hope, glistens horizon…Alleluia, Christ came!
Is 7:14, 9:6, Matt 11: 28-30, Lk 2:8-20
©jmsbell-12/05/22
Stillness my vacant eyes dart around to feel,
Evening’s redness is sliding into night’s lap, a glow alights its appeal.
Road that converges into my apartment building seems lonely,
Each window awaits the arrival of beings who are homely.
Now I sit on the swing perched on my terrace garden,
Every time I look at the green mountains, my stare it hardens….
Every bird I can see flying homeward in flocks,
Valiant squirrel it runs around from coconut trees to garden rocks,
Every leaf from the tree is closing itself to the world,
Night slowly creeps upon me its shadow unfurled.
Insects crowd around the light on the terrace wall,
Now it’s time for me to listen to the wind’s whistling call.
Grand wind chimes on the roof make sweet melodies as night befalls.