Long Ambiance Poems
Long Ambiance Poems. Below are the most popular long Ambiance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ambiance poems by poem length and keyword.
The following scenario occurred via the guest sharing with me
when I was managing the front desk at a hotel in San Francisco,
fronting Union Square. I found his morals promising and conform
to a highly acceptable standard of right and wrong. The ambiance
at the time was understandably festive, and he occasioned me the
day after bearing a pleasant decency. A pricey hotel and a priceless
moment in my lifetime.
~*~ ~*~
A man deplanes
Key Biscayne's flight
take pains planning.
City center
car renter or
enter BART train.
~*~ ~*~
Opts for mincab
as confab airs
quick grab sightsee.
San Francisco
cross the Golden
Gate overwhelm.
~*~ ~*~
Mark Hopkins suite
exec beat and
retreat a bit.
Up and at 'um
took humdrum hence
therefrom outside
~*~ ~*~
Two souls passing,
eyes lashing while
dashing connects.
Man out in town,
Lauren brown suit
and down-brim cap.
~*~ ~*~
Her nuanced face,
garbed black lace that
draped mace hides well.
The schemed conversed,
his bad nursed, hers
rehearsed ensue.
~*~ ~*~
He treats a fine
place to wine and
to dine, ere show!
Ceremony
Christmas Tree Lights
City main square.
~*~ ~*~
Union Square drinks,
glasses clinks, the
man sinks, blacks out.
Wakes--finds--back--the
Photo...huh?...reads,
I'm...wha?...Steve!--(SMILES).
~*~ ~*~
In the rhythm of the rolling tide of time I float
in the amorous ambiance of the setting sun.
Before the ebb takes me beyond the horizon,
I search for the anchorage in the fervent shore.
Through the suffusing shower of twilight shimmer,
amply allured, I follow your lengthening shadow,
melting in mystique night in mellow moonshine,
stardust spark lights up my dark alley of dream.
The new sun returns with color-burst fresco,
sprinkles spectral hue on dainty drops of dew.
In my malachite meadow no longer morose, I find you,
sparkling like pearl with the patina of pristine fervor.
At the periphery of my lonesome lingering time,
colors spread on blue, my enticed senses don’t belie,
haze lifts from dawning day, I see my relocated tomorrow
in the smile on your face and in the glitter of your eye.
_______________
October 23, 2022
Contest : A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Sponsored by : Brian Strand
I am bound to admit that I had vizualized her with olive skin and warm brown eyes
Imagining eleven silver bracelets on her arm and eight finger rings- at least one lapis
I pictured her office a parked gypsy wagon, lit by the glow of a campfire.
The older lady with burgundy hair clipped short was a complete surprise.
Where were the twirling tiered ruffled gypsy skirts? The crystal ball to trap us?
The runes? The tarot deck? The crystal skulls? The ambiance to admire?
She was not a typical fortune teller, this darling with pretty sky blue eyes
We put our money down which this elderly anomaly did but naught snap up
Why have you come? She asked in a gentle way with a sweetness, all desire
We pointed to each other and laughed that neither knew the whys
She fed us thick bread with homemade marmalade, a treat for me and Capus.
Let me suggest what might have brought you to me to hire...
You want to know your mission, the reason you fell from the skies
Capus nodded but I held my chin, staring at her earrings which held lapis
She told us of a dangerous zone and we listened to her play her lyre
Her Roma cat sneaked in and gave me a sideways glance with his yellow eyes
She told us of wonderful times ahead and it sounded like pure happiness and bliss
We went back hundreds of times, to her up-lifting presence we never did tire.
Big Bang’s unfaded sound echoes in the universal core
In eternity the divine light transformed into matter
Material entities remember the hymn of yore
Resonating with the melody of the creator.
Everything born embeds the waves of primal sound
In all hearts it composes the music of the cosmos
With shared harmonic chord they’re all bound
From one celestial harp all the rhythms arose.
Life and nature create the classical symbiosis symphony
Oriental ‘ragas’ made melodic rain from melting cloud
Blazed the forest making dancing inferno in trees
Orphic hymns of rocks made the Greeks proud.
As strings of life’s essence play the music of genesis
In the heavenly ambiance of the perpetual beauty
Convivial man and animal transcend nemesis
They all listen to the song of infinity.
_________________
February 2, 2022
For Strand (1063) Contest
November 13, 2021
Title chosen : Of Infinity
Contest : This Or That, Vol 8
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh
Almighty takes care of all of us from above
Benevolence He showers urelented with love
Cornucopia of His blessings all the time overflows
Divine ambiance in our midst always grows
Embedded within us with ecstasy, soul knows.
Fears that haunt us in the darkest of nights
God’s will melts them in the glow of astral light
His bountiful benediction is like boundless sea
Immersing the jagged shore of life in serenity
Joy reaches us on waves of His glory, we see.
Kindness in our hearts we seek and get from Him
Live the devout life filled with empathy to the brim
Mortal existence is of divine purpose, free of vice
Never stop to give the troubled ones needed service
Over time, God willing, one gets profusely wise.
Peace prevails permanently in the tormented mind
Quietude follows the vanishing trail of stormy wind
Racing blind the lure of untrue mirages we pursue
Sanctity of righteous life goes out of our view
Thank God, for then He shows the path of truth anew.
Unseen enemy in the toiling times we helplessly face
Victim of terror we don’t become with His grace
We all get from Him the benign gift of sanguine solace
Xanadu is the place we will go, we know with certainty
Yearning for his blessings with devotion without vanity
Zenith of bliss we will surely reach beyond the eternity.
___________________
July 31, 2020
For Caren Krutsinger Sponsored Contest : Abcedearian Poem
Any Subject You Want
A few years ago, when our Granddaughter Jemma was here from USA.
We decided to visit the Crystal Castle, Shambala Gardens at Byron Bay.
We flew there in a few hours, hired a car and drove the rest of the way.
Nothing prepared us for what we found. It can’t be described to this day.
There’s nothing like this mystical place, so magically made of dreams.
Where all religions come as one, statues create an ambiance it seems.
I am sure our God intended it as a meeting place, where his love beams.
Paths crystal lined and the size of wondrous crystals is taken to extremes.
A cave encrusted with amethyst when you sit inside it’s hard to believe,
The enchanted feeling this place gives is peace, a wonder to conceive.
Serenity is found in every step, a consciousness, enlightenment weave.
A mystical place where beauty abounds, and we did not want to leave.
Some steadfastly believe that crystals have a healing ability and powers.
I think that God is behind the healing deemed to be that crystal towers.
But still, something lurks, each aura and crystal singing bowl by the hour,
The jewel of Byron makes every other attraction, surely fade and cower.
I urge you to watch the video to see the most amazing place on earth.
True there are statues of Buddha and religious prayer wheels to unearth.
This mystical place isn’t about any religion, It’s the crystals that give it worth.
I’ve been in the enchanted cave with four others, come out filled with mirth.
A Warped Tree
Today, when not arguing with Walter the Jew
on Facebook or Twitter
the ambiance in the house was surprisingly calm since I got a key to my study in peace to read my latest collection
and found, at times, the poems had an internal rhyme and were little stories
The pity is, I have to write without a publisher and
can't afford to hire one, those I dare to ask run a thousand miles, one of them a poor man, is a lecturer in Udevalla
Last year, I visited a crooked tree so shy its roots curled in bashfulness, and its leaves took an autumnal color. I wanted to know if there was a way for me to help get her more gracious and straight
She took offense and said she was 105.
I felt like pointing out the tree by the drive into our village -an olive tree-is so old there is a possibility Jesus sat under it reporting protest notes to
the priests in the service of the Roman church
One day the came, the uncouth people from the traffic division chopped down ancient history and threw the remains down a drain.
Angrily, I protested to my doctor about the vandals
with my fist hit the table so hard a stethoscope fell to the floor, and then the porter came,
and I was made to leave.
When I came to Portugal, the natural thing was to study and learn the language, but at the time I was wrapped up learning English
The Portuguese language is superbly fitted to Fado
but as a "lingo" for conversation, I fail, but
I knew enough to get married.
The Norwegian vocality sounds like a Dane
trying to talk Swedish and is like wet cement being poured down a ditch dug by Lusitanos, spitting tobacco.
Ach, mein lieber Gott, I have lost many
friends in the last sixty years.
I sat on the edge of the roof, studying the horizon
Waiting for the do-gooder, who makes me wretch
He will not be ho-ho-ho-ing after I get finished here.
I feel something protruding from my left incisor.
Remnants of last year’s Santa.
The night is still, the ambiance makes me giddy.
There is an evilness afoot that delights my black heart.
I imagine what I will be doing to this year’s cheerful idiot.
My teeth gnash hard, practically breaking.
I am ready for the fool who dares approach.
“It is Krampus!” I hear someone yell.
Three midnight friendly humans begin throwing hard things up on the roof.
I will return fire later. Right now there is only one victim.
I watch for him, hoping he will be nauseously joyful.
Those are the kinds of Santas whom I enjoy slicing and devouring the best.
A wolf howls, feeling my excitement.
I lie in wait, sitting on the chimney now.
I can practically taste salty blood.
I salivate in readiness.
Mohonk Mountain House is a rapturous place
where we love to visit and walk the long trails;
partake in its charming Victorian grace.
A mystical ambiance- there still prevails.
A manor-like hotel for overnight guests,
we managed to sleep there a Saturday night.
The hallways were long, and at once did suggest
past visions we'd seen which left us with much fright.
Contraptions, wall-mounted, held hoses wound up
with nozzles at end placed to put out a fire.
So much like a movie, we'd seen where setup
did look much the same and so dreadfully dire.
That night, we awoke with some noises we heard
that sounded as though they were right in our room.
A voice giggling loudly- now this was absurd,
as women-like shadows quick-heightened our gloom.
We managed to sleep, but woke up- from a dream?
Fire hoses were chasing us down the long hall!
The nozzles were faces with teeth, made us scream!
They smothered and bit us in that horrid brawl.
Next morning we saw, on the desk, a brochure,
a story which made our hair stand up on end,
that Stephen King frequented Mohonk- proved sure,
ghosts helped shape 'The Shining'- that horror he penned!
words come to me in batches
for days they will include witches, goblins and jack-o-lanterns
like obsessions, they include spell books, brooms, bats and ghosts
in an abrupt about face
they change alliteratively into dogs doing daring deeds daily.
wild wildebeests wishing we were wayfaring wanderers.
prancing princesses providing presents proving professorships.
I do not control them, they are in charge of me.
today’s words were in my head before I got out of bed.
I heard the last two lines of a poem I had been creating in my sleep.
not unusual unfortunately.
What is unusual is if I remember them.
words can be playful, joyful, happy, friendly and kind.
this is when I am concentrating on poems for children
I do not think you can be too optimistic for them.
when they turn dark, gloomy and morose, I am shocked.
these are not my words, I think. Who am I channeling?
Poe? Coleridge? a serial killer?
words set the stage for my daily life.
their ambiance creates my mood.
I have no idea where they originate.
But they end up on a typed page.