Long Amble Poems
Long Amble Poems. Below are the most popular long Amble by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Amble poems by poem length and keyword.
Breakfast bells ring
In my stomach and
I go downstairs in the
Room where deliciousness
Resides with care and love—
Kitchen,
I stumble slowly
Sinking the moment all in
I take every step
Tap
Tap
Tap
I'm downstairs
My fingers wrapping
Affectionately around
My coffee mug
Which is also my mate,
Coffee, I pour from the french press,
And it goes like a spiral
Down in the mug as a whirlwind.
And then it goes gently down my throat
When I kiss my mellow mug mindfully.
Then my toast jumps out of the toaster
Like an acrobat,
Acutely lays on the placid plate
Waiting for me to reward it
With strawberries, cherries,
Or balmy butter or merry mulberries,
Or sometimes just like Winnie
I eat it with humble honey.
Afterwards, the backyard awaits me,
I amble amply,
Scatter some bread for my buddies—
Birds and squirrels,
While the wind greets me,
And they all gather round
When I read my poems,
Keeping them spellbound.
restless sleep, struggle out of bed
walking like a zombie, newspaper read
thought patterns familiar rise, am in their grip
over cravings nurtured thus far, we once again trip
recognising piquant dilemma, distanced from joyfulness
we reverse attention polarity, choosing playfulness
as an experiment to begin with, soon addictive
before we know it, our orientation meditative
continuous consciousness correction
whereupon we choose our hearts expansion
erases gently aberrations of our conditioned past
memory images of yesteryears now leave us all aghast
we know not about God or any esoteric spiritual technique
discerning mind lays aside urgings that make us weak
as we go in within in deepening tranquil silence
we rekindle flame of love by this dalliance
feeling lighter now, carrying no burden
shifts were slow although it may seem sudden
treading now gently, flowing like the breeze, at ease
we amble along in wonderment, aspect embrace-hold-release
31-March-2021
Before this practice, first a learning
Of the veils of maya, causing feeling limiting
Maya itself creating illusion of individuality
A separation from the source, blocking connectivity
The first limitation of time, the second of space
Imprisoning us therein at a stuporous pace
Limitations of both doing & knowing
Limitation of our true limitless Self recognising
Now with this preamble
We nimbly amble
Simply by rejecting all limitations
As temporary or rather illusionary illusions
Our renunciation must be total & complete
Even as we are in fullness with bliss replete
We become empty within divine magnetised
In timeless time God is automatically realised
28-September-2020
Forest shades wane, as the formidable
moonlight chase, as ghost and goblins wander.
In eerie shriek through briar and bramble
bought amble rubbing against each other.
Thundering growls are heard upon the ridge,
as a coal steed rears for an interlude,
over the immutable wooden bridge,
tenuous brook babbles for solitude.
Sketch of a bereft brittle man couldn't calm
his racing heart to fight an evil force.
He looked demurely with an airy qualm
at the arcane and appalling dark horse.
Distressed and troubled; O, heaven defend
the frigid fear of Earth unblessed dead- end.
10/21/2017
The price was worth it, so it seemed;
It was right and not a penny more.
Here the clock will sit, here it will count
Its days - round and round its hands
Will spin – metered by its spirit within.
Embedded in its mahogany tomb
And gilded by an exacting eye
Only seldom will you hear it cry
With the hours that amble by.
Atop the clock’s mantle green
Within a parapet of stone
There you’ll see a sailing ship
With wooden masts and ivory sails
Pitching to and fro against an angry sea
Heralding the arrival of each anticipated eve.
Standing on the shoreline resolute and sworn,
A gilded sailor wields a rope
To lasso those who mourn;
He offers to them the strand of hope.
A stone wall crumbles across the sea,
A fortuitous port of call reveals
How brief life’s glory can be
As it makes its unwary fall.
The golden wreath of life eternal
Surrounds the clock’s face
To show assuredly our victory
Over death’s dark embrace.
Descending sea serpents sinuously wind
Beside the timeless garland shrine
To gather at a feast of shells
Mingled with some flailing scales;
Even in the depths of shadows,
This mahogany tomb yields its enslaved
To the resurrection of the saved.
Gilded tulips etched in a circle
Atop the clock’s opulent base
Testifies to the supernal foundation
Of Christ’s unchanging grace.
Though just a clock, it’s slightly more
As you gaze deeper into its obvious lure;
Where some things are as they seem,
Others hold to a different scheme.
Into the fog I fell,
amidst the bone chilling cold,
caterwauled by silence -
eerily the end
of the year, dismal.
With the call of a forefinger,
I float through the mist,
silence switches
to a whisper,
rays appear through the haze.
Into the cradle I amble,
dizzy from 2024 strange happenings.
Lemons and apples fill the trees,
bright, juicy, bountiful, and
plenipotentiary fruit
of a Happy New Year.
Here’s where it gets weird:
we must take care
to love and serve
and the trees will prosper.
Love, joy, peace
patience, kindness, goodness,
gentleness, faithfulness, self-control* -
the kind of fruit that will produce
good results
for years to come.
The Whos in Whoville give praise.
The pennypinching Grinch** gives in.
Bells ring and voices raised.
Cheers, hopeful and kinetic.
*Fruit of the Spirit, bible reference
**Whos, Whoville, Grinch - Dr. Seuss book references
The brindled drop tine bull
Brings his herd along the fence
He steers the steers and leers at me
His look not quite intense
We ponder life, each his own strife, this old cow boy and me
He clears the gate with one old cow
They amble past the here and now
And take me back to the woods by the creek
And the hedgerow post pile by the birthday tree
And the chicken coop and my first chores
The mem’ries flood
To the water tank and the crawdads there
In Holstine’s pasture, way in the back
Not far from a line of walnut trees
Black and tall against the breeze
Each straight as a sentry at his post
Who walked this land
Bow, rifle, plow in hand
It connects me to the land my feet
Negotiate in the autumn heat
I’ve drifted south, as things seem to go
Yet somehow in my soul I know
I’m tied to the land in a way not seen
By those whose mem’ries aren’t so keen
For the ground they trod when their feet were bare
But my mem’ries warm… and it takes me there
Beauty all around
As I amble through the meadow
The breeze of daybreak, oh so inviting
Whispering unfathomable secrets
Into my ears. The mist yonder suspends
In the air. A thing of wonder, a light
Passing through a prism
This meadow, akin to a forsaken garden
Punctuated with colorful weeds
Sunflowers and dandelions glow as bright
As fireflies; smiling and blowing kisses
In unison with the morning sun
Autumn woods dazzle with color
Blades of grass bending in the breeze
Ripples on a stream, and they dance
With devil-may-care abandon. As carefree
As aspen leaves moving in the slightest wind
This meadow, alive with creatures of nature. Somewhere...
A grasshopper is leaping to and fro
A butterfly is fluttering every which way
A hummingbird is hovering over a bloomed flower
A bumblebee is bothering a daisy
Birds perched in trees sing
Nature's love songs. A nightingale...
drips honey into my ears! Fallen leaves sigh
Birds seize the turquoise blue morning sky
Could this be nature at it's best?
Beauty all around
As I amble through the meadow
Along the woods of glow and mist
breezes paint an outline moon-kissed,
on skyline
Where fireflies jet their rare debut
beneath gilded clouds’ marquee to
skyrocket
Amid collage of unkempt leaves;
debris drops …old pine- timber heaves
to skydive
I amble ‘round this forest known --
chanting lush nature’s psalms alone
like skylark
Deep the hills…inner ghosts are gone
while breaths quicken with soul-fire on
my skyway
Joseph May's Compounding the Verse Contest
5/17/2020
as we amble along
osmotically imbibing
intuitively assimilating
the divine love song
the flowing continuum
gently shapes our soul
making us pure & whole
cleansing ego residuum
walking thus we go afar
along a path beauteous
vivified by bliss rapturous
oblivious to karmic scars
looking in within we see
that in reality we are still
as God Himself does instil
joy throb in each entrée
journey without movement
wherein He the transmitter
we as a willing love receptor
dwell in joyous contentment
there thus being no seeking
in childlike trusting surrender
we keep looking on in wonder
at our petals slowly opening
12-October-2020