Long Amid Poems
Long Amid Poems. Below are the most popular long Amid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Amid poems by poem length and keyword.
Speak to me, Shenandoah!
You're old, and I am young.
In valley down below
And all your hills among,
Dinosaurs have once roamed,
With open, hungry eyes;
Mammoths made you their home
Amid the sheets of ice -
Taller than Mount St. Helen
You once stood on the earth;
Reaching and touching heaven -
Through all the death and birth
You towered, proud and mighty,
Seeing and knowing all,
Parted and yet united -
Each mountain and the whole -
Seeing trees grow and wither,
Animals live and die,
Thunder, tornado, blizzard -
Elements you defy,
But stand, evincing shadow
In the sun's morning rays
Over the forests, meadows,
And in the time and space.
You stood here when the red man
Hunted and roamed the lands,
When the wise, painted shaman
At bonfire, in a trance,
Healed ailments and diseases,
Arrows and spears dislodged
And contacted deceased ones
And spirits in sweat lodge,
And when the white man landed
And drove the red man hence,
You stood in pain and sadness
But let the life advance.
The ages have eroded you -
The water and the wind;
The workers have exploded you
Railways and roads to build -
You are worn out, tired,
Shadow of what you were -
In forests you're attired
Now, as you were before
In ice caps. Appalachia!
You've seen and known it all -
The vagaries of nature,
Tsunamis in man's soul -
Both ignorance and wisdom,
Both viciousness and bliss,
The muteness of deceased ones,
The symphony that lives
In people and in nature
In oceans and the skies:
In beauty and in danger
Life grows and multiplies -
For millions of years
You stood and saw and heard
And caught life unawares
Like, in a trap, a bird
And wrung from its beaked mouth
The universal song:
You are the life's storehouse!
The planet's skeleton!
All lived, died, decomposed
And left its dust in you -
There resting in repose
Under the sky of blue -
And as you see and know
The world, both old and new,
My teacher - Shenandoah -
Give me your wisdom too!
"I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it is my gift to you . . ."
Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely - red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.
She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be Queen;
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.
Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping, like a willow tree.
Then the sky begin to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that Irish rose,
As she disappeared beneath the earth, there in his grief below
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.
The years and all their seasons came and went
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent
Upon her grave where everyday he knelt and prayed
And dreamed of her until his dying day.
The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone
That still stands alone today, upon her grave
Where from the million tears of love he gave
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.
~~~~~
Author: Elaine George
For the contest: Writing In The Sublime ~
Awarded: First Place
Soft, sweet words lay dormant
Awaiting that special moment
When I can pull them out of their closet
Press them with the heated iron
And lie them in a row, like pearls
Connected only by a chain of sterling
Silver, organizing each sacred dream
Whispers of nouns, verbs and adjectives
There amid sentences quite sensible
And some that long to be finished with
Some bright, vivid, colorful verses
Filled with phenomenal expressions
While others seem more like questions
With short, pleasing answers there, too
Limericks sing from the rhythms found here
Amid some of the better choruses I hint at
Surviving the editor’s pen when it’s winning
Erasing saccharine visions of fancies and fantasy
Feelings that would never become realities
Even though they buzz through my history
Like a bumble bee searching for nectar in me
Sonnets sound out from the depths of my pen
Sweating with beads of salt that actually reveals
The truth of their imagination and foresight
Admissions of genuine devotion alive within
Sharing a promise of what should be coming
If the world will only open its eyes and awaken
The joy found inside a silky, burning poem
Odes cry out to be written down and read
By someone who knows what is going on in my head
Perhaps a sensitive soul who can see the blushes
Happening when I spew out romantic verses
Or paint a beautiful sunset across the mountains
So tender and sensual, alive to my poetry in ways
That open up the doors to the backstreets of my mind
September 23, 2019
In the backstreets of my mind Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
I joined the army employment-sake; He did the same too;
I from India; He from Pakistan; though both blooms new;
Countries sought enmity; we looked for eternal friendship,
We're no traitors; advocates of peace who sought fellowship...
A simple smile, like fresh-flower, when in morning we met,
With no greeting of goodnight sleep, our sun did never set;
He from his border; I from mine; life-stories we did share,
In times of illness and pain, for each other we did care...
His festivals became mine; mine his; as though countrymen,
We seemed rising from our home lands as global citizens;
Amid many gifts we shared on moments memorable,
A solemn soldier in glass-globe, greatly admirable...
When I wished to know of his marriage he said benignly,
He had duties for his elder sisters waiting humbly;
It's when, like trustworthy brother, he fulfills his duty,
His life, like perennial orchids, will find true beauty...
With sun-rises and sets and season's changes time went by,
Our friendship, like a colorful kite, day-by-day soared high;
Conditions of our countries, we had, but just bird’s eye view,
Our roles to our lands, as soldiers, as sure as life we knew...
There, then fell, like fire, the edict of emergency,
Troops, like sheep on shepherd's voice, stood in restless urgency;
Our brains, like roughest of tiger-leather, got gently washed,
Every soldier, drunk in wine of patriotism, stood sloshed...
As docile as gentle most lambs, we took our place in rows,
Did I ever know, like sheep against wolves, your troops arose?
Orders obeyed, for a moment, my thought of you got erased,
Did you feel the same too? If so, why did you get razed...?
Studied, it’s my bullet that killed you, made me sad and mad,
How come my damn destiny made me miserably bad?
War over as loan soldier I returned to the border,
Burdens full; tears rarely shed; with glass-globe solemn soldier...!
16 December 2021
The Chalice of Night pours dark on the stair
drops of shadows that don't belong there.
Echoes of footsteps--do they signal harm?
Whispers in bushes that push our alarm.
We know spirits like to do their roaming
in quiet darkness or amid murky gloaming.
We feel their breath as it tickles our ear;
murmuring softly, they arouse more fear.
Walking alone on a deserted lane
in dark night, footfalls I cannot explain.
Is that just a bush, or something unknown?
can it be paper, or a silk kerchief shown?
Reading alone by mere lamp flame,
I hear someone whisper my name.
A step on the stair, a brush of air,
I wonder if Night is creeping in there.
At night, it's best to sit outside by fire,
gaze at stars' wonder to our heart's desire.
Release our dark fears to nightfall instead,
and leave expired mortals entirely dead!
January 19, 2022
Today is the saddest day of September...
to commemorate the horrible attack on America,
the serenity in the untroubled sky
reflects the calmness of that memory not yet
laid to rest by us, who are still writing a memoir;
flowers and prayers are the sublimest ways of comfort
that give us a sense of sought consolation...while
bagpipes play the beautiful hymns of America!
These devastated hearts silently shed tears...
like a torrential rain, waiting for a rainbow
to appear and release the intensity of our pain
to the bright and wonderful colors of hope,
the promising colors after a sudden transformation,
which gave a new meaning to determination:
to turn a tragedy into triumph and losses of lives
into a monument outlasting time itself...
to gleem over our sadness when they pierce like swords!
Today is the saddest day of September,
remembering the infamy of the vicious enemies,
who themselves perished amid concrete and steel
for having believed in a mortal, deceitful creed;
revenge,not compassion ran into their vile blood...
what kind of reward will they received from their god,
if they never had love for Mankind or themselves?
The fury they inflicted upon us,sparked in us
extraordinary acts of kindness towards
our kindred...unable to ascape from that fiery hell!
A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet
Our feet carried us, it felt so right
The perfume of forgotten flowers
Enlightened the senses and passed the hours
Sunlight passing thru lacy Jasmine tree
Spirits soared, made the soul free
Cuckoos cooing the sweetest song
Nothing can now go wrong
As we walk along this grassy slope
Sunshine fall on us with hope
I bent low to smell the tender bloom
And plucked it for our room
This little token from my enchanting walk
Has stayed amid the pages, white as chalk
07/06/2011
By- Tahera Mannan
For Constance’s ‘A Woodland Path’ contest
Tears,
a Language that God Understands
Written: by Tom Wright
10/29/01
Lord,
As tracks of Angels
you've made our tears,
Permanently tattooed
on our countenance for years.
We reminisce of those
for whom they were shed,
For those numberless souls,
appearing to us, unfed.
In their wetness,
we oft feel your embrace,
As tears
stream silently down a wrinkled face.
"Face Ruts",
having seen their share of briny flow,
Over some lost soul,
whom they perhaps don't know.
Like leaf clinging dew,
tears fall amid our sorrow,
For family and friend
without hope of tomorrow.
For awakened thoughts
once put fast asleep,
God alone, knows our heart's,
and why they give occasion for eyes to weep.
(Please read The Park -- Part One first ...
This is a continuation from Part One, due to space limitations)
Yes, kids at play are bold and wise
with flashing smiles and knowing eyes.
Children tire easily of grown-up prattle;
thoughts turn to cakes, to toys that rattle.
They think that Belles and Bills tell lies.
Tme is a birthday gift or a new surprise:
games to play; a windy day for a kite one flies;
coins that shine; toys that squeak;
a trip to the zoo at the end of the week.
Belles and Bills persist in their story.
Some even mention forgotten glory.
Children go home to eat, to sleep,
as Belles and Bills their vigils keep
then wearily drift back to flats
to listen to the rustling rats,
to sip their beers or gins or rums --
to wait until the morning comes.
They stand and stretch, look all around,
surveying the world to which they're bound.
Then they shuffle away with airs of sadness
at being always on the verge of madness.
They'll see once more the sun's first ray,
the birth in the park of another day.
Eyes are glazed and minds are dazed;
the atmosphere grows dim and hazed.
An eerie echo of an unheard bark
reverberates throughout the park
amid falling leaves and a darkening sky
and the nightly proof of the chilren's lie.
in shadows of rain’s still breath, listening
to the gentle in each whispery suggestion
falling down amid the colors, softly glistening
lingering beneath the story, voice’s question
on the light, healing grace from moon’s rhythm
praising while summer pleads with night’s gift
nothing on earth can ever compare with Him
for He is love and He abides to give the heart a lift
in dew drenched silence, leaving poetry in tears
life reveals the story of miracles in our prayers
while rivers wash away the faded and lost fears
edifying the heart who God’s love quietly repairs
on the hills, in the meadows and beneath the trees
lives a beauty that is boasted about on autumn leaves
wonders amazing, shedding light on soulful seas
it is the life who God restores, with light who believes
in the darkness abides a silhouette of what life is
just a vapor, slow and wistful, moving through the air
promising the spirit that love is who God says
hope and grace, praising the Creator without compare
on the music, playing through the winds who tease
singing to the night and leaving hearts full of delight
a falling snow, a trembling truth, I fall to my knees
before the One who gave me a reason and such insight
in the heady moments just before spring arrives
I hear the blessings that come from knowing He’s mine
and I tell the stories that remind me love always survives
because with Him, hearts are full of light that will ever shine