Long Architectural Poems
Long Architectural Poems. Below are the most popular long Architectural by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Architectural poems by poem length and keyword.
There’s a magical place in Klevan
A beauty spot in Ukraine
It’s called the tunnel of love
Where lovers wish away
The scenes are so romantic
With evergreen tree’s that arch
Where couples walk right through
Holding hands and have a laugh
It’s a truly beautiful place
With a fairytale train track
Walking down this green corridor
With nothing but good luck
And in any kind of season
It’s such a lovely view
Through this tunnel of love
Down a beautiful avenue
Doesn’t nature have its own way
Of yielding special treasures
A wonderful tunnel of love
Full of architectural pleasures
A fantastic green passageway
Like a fantasy out of a dream
Where a train delivers wood
To a factory three times a day
They say this tunnel has a legend
Lover’s wishes will come true
If there loves’ sincere
Their dream will follow too
When natures left to grow wild and free
Just look what it can do
Three kilometres of sheer beauty
Where romantics stroll on through
© Copyright K.C.Leake
16th December 2015
All Rights Reserved
From the Milky Way’s canvass
swerving like red wine in glass
dancing to the midnight blues
traversing the utopian realm
of one awed by universes architectural arcs
Flip-flap swings across its axis.
delivering spasms to the feeding eyes
yawning for a closer gaze
with an Oliver twist, I need more
heart racing, mind panting
skin sweating, hungerily awaiting the night ball
at noon’s court
It is mine; it is ours.
an artful slither of a thought
If breakfast were served later
let’s eat dinner early.
for the strength of yesterday’s meal
withstand tomorrow’s pain.
fruitful hope and menacing desire
kills a man before his time
But hell is hell.
Even if today's right is lost in tomorrow’s storm
His demise, A beginning of another’s.
EYE of READINESS
-SUCCESS
"We were welcomed by the eagle, who dropped us on our rears, when we finally achieved success, in his eyes. Dropped us a parting tear."
EYE of ROARING TIGER
-BELLY DANCER
"We were welcomed by the cute baby unborn, who laughed and giggled when he saw us. He sought for our hand to hold."
EYE of DISCOVERY
-PARASITE
"We were welcomed by the black widow, who left us when she learned to bite. She seduced and warned of times times and half a time."
EYE of BEAVER
-REDWOOD TREE
"We were welcomed by the tall, strong, majestic tree, which taught us to make homes and bridges."
EYE of HORSE
-MOON SHADOW
"We were welcomed by the crescent moon, which watched over us, like a guardian angel. Did readings of our palms and our hearts."
EYE of FUTURE
-CRAFT
"We were welcomed by the iron-headed robot, who taught us to weld, and work hard at tasks. We were joined by the Dolphin who showed us playful craft."
EYE of ADVENTURE
-POLITICS
"We were welcomed by the lion, who led us into the forest. We laughed at the leopard, who played with us, and at the ostrich, who tried to eat us. The Penguin, who tried to lead us.The Lemur wanted to be King over us and be named Julian The BestOfUs."
EYE of SIX-LEAF SHEPHERD
-SKELETON
"We were welcomed by the hominid skeleton, who taught us how to hunt and eat. To fashion weapon and shield and have reverence for the sacrifice of love and the dead."
EYE of FLYING
-FARMER
"We were welcomed by the bean farmer, who taught us to work the earth. We laughed at the sheep, who told us about the moon."
Eye of Dress Code
-BUILDER
"We were welcomed by the stonemason, who taught us to shape stone into buildings. We laughed at the angles and the way the functionality meets the eye. Architectural refinery of the Fairy mind."
EYE of BEAUTIFUL MOUNTAIN
-WORD
"We were welcomed by the WORD of God, who told us all of these things. How to turn water into wine.
How to be drunk and merry in the living waters."
These verses, woven with passion and grace?,
evoking emotions, leaving souls in its entrace,
words that linger, like whispered wind, on fire.
Imprints left, in hearts, deeply pinned by desire.
Join my quest for fire,
for warmth and burn of principles-
Dire_
Eye of Dire Wolf
HEAVENLY CHOIR~
There was a panther roar
On an icy Canadian floor
Off in the distance
Images filled with persistence
Somewhere south marlins swim and dolphins dance
Aquarium stage is where they get the chance
While heat experience Orlando’s indoors
Loving the magic galore
Once Miami was not a sporting town
Sunshine greeted northerners having a wintry frown
Hotels on the beach
Causeway drive in reach
Cruise ships leaving port
Caribbean mystery destination wearing touristy shorts
Architectural artistry is the first rest
A town called Key West
Waiting to impress
America’s southernmost point
Ghostly Cuban cigars aroma in some joints
Even if a passenger goes
Only to the author’s self-destruction Sloppy Joes
It is time well spent on shore
Reminder last century who was running the country’s store
Off to the saintly islands
Scenic views romantic and admiring
Vacationers started tiring
Wondering any of these lines were hiring
Historical tours
And good weather more
Create a nice paradise
Purchasing the all-inclusive price
Finally comes the Mexican Mayan ruins
Smiling intently “who on the bus we are going fooling”
By asking “what are you doing?”
Homeward bound
Back to the tropical town
Where the colors are flashy
Soothing attitudes that are nasty
Stating their case
In the Florida place
Where oranges were once in a bowl
Pleasant escape from bitterness that was cold
Surrounded by two rapid running shores
a concrete chain of buildings fill the skies
strong pungent scents compete with rapid scores
of pulsing sounds and screeching, crowded cries
iconoclastic beats and muted sighs
the City always wakens sleepy eyes.
We hail a taxi from a dirty curb
while subways rumble, sweating underground
and ride the hustle through the shifting herd
torrential rains quite suddenly come down
they slap and streak the windows all around
as raindrops distort faces that surround.
A plethora of sights spread like a feast
from Broadway shows to High Line paths that span
Hudson River’s architectural peaks
roof top restaurants, a classy jazz band
we disappear into museum land
then fall asleep, a true, devoted fan.
To venture into life’s mosaic streams
is to taste and embrace all that it means.
The portal to the past exists beyond an old gate,
in the city of the dead the beloved wait;
on an elaborate tomb is an ancient date,
a love so great a man built his love a monument.
The entry is serpentine iron and quite ornate,
and her tomb represents his architectural excellence;
in time he also takes up residence.
It is written that he was a man quite prominent.
as my research found the story in a document,
this man built his wife a grand resting place mansion;
for even after her young death he held his passion,
the man would come daily with flowers opulent.
It is written that he became a recluse after her death,
at the ornate door- I leave baby's breath.
_______________________
February 17, 2016
Poetry/Rhyme/A Love So Great
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1081-851-17
All Rights Reserved, 2016, Constance La France
A single note
Just starting with a single note.
Drawn to the vibration
Then another, ally, companion.
These two becoming firm friends
As others come to join the fray.
Repeating and finding new meaning,
Never quite knowing their course
Yet their purpose so sure.
Allowing the sound to penetrate
Lighting the fire in the belly
As another note is plucked
From obscurity
In another’s train of thought.
Together yet apart.
Volume and intent mutate
Organically growing to finally,
Eventually and climatically
The air thick filled with fever.
Harmony between the entities
As a hive mind yet each as one.
From single note to final melody grown,
Raw, unrehearsed crescendo
Capturing a moment in time never duplicated.
Notre Dame...Notre Dame...
your eight hundred years of wisdom’s gone;
eight hundred years of beauty strong;
architectural sage, Notre Dame.
Notre Dame your life has seen
so many broken centuries and
oh, the stories your stones could tell,
told by the ringing of your bells.
Will they rebuild you once again?
Will your façade grace more eyes and
then will you be the same as once;
can France’s spirit overcome this loss?
Survivor of revolution and two world wars;
you’ve stood beyond the bombing hoards.
How many strove to give you life?
Their legacy’s now a burning pyre.
One hundred eighty two years of sweat;
poured into stone and minaret.
Gothic, stained glass beauty of Pa-ree,
such blood and sweat poured into thee.
Oh Notre Dame...Notre Dame;
survivor of eight centuries;
what’s now to become of thee?
Written 4-15-19
As an artist, I am sorrowful for this beautiful loss but, glad that no lives were lost. When I think of those who poured their life’s work into Notre Dame’s Beauty, the artist, architects, stonemasons, carpenters and more, I feel an even stronger sense of loss than just that of an
Dictionary in hand Bobbies
manned state of the spy craft created
strategic peripheral outposts
a comma dated,
(sans syntax garnered monies) equated
justifiable to build galley ma free
Highland Manor wing - feted
via "FAKE" glitterati
creating surreptitious hated
surveillance monitor ring, which insulated
decked out starry eyed Starship
Enterprise surprise rated,
as an unbelievable well Spock kin
Duplicated Star Trek venerated
popular culture science fiction set piece,
where elderly residents waited
this other worldly architectural phenomenon
didst immediately outshine by alight
year among the original seven wonders
of the world prominant
as a buck toothed over bite
yet, didst camouflage top secret AngloSaxon
incognito missionaries delight
upholding correct language usage,
Thence trumpeting amidst
nonchalant onlookers as excite
mint hinted grammarians with listening devices
some flying unseen
as period size drones taking flight
other more sophisticated
electronic accouterments
dolled, gussied, issued with apostrophe
shaped flower buds scaling height
of cerulean sky, where blinding light
of a solar ellipsis, thus
arousing no discovered night
gallery suspicion during
feted occasion rife with polite
"FAKE" markedly questionable legatees quite
suitable asper The Art Of The Deal during
ribbon cutting ceremony,
and after words right
ting up citations slyly
slipped under windshield wipers
as the madding massed crowdsource,
would take dispersed out of sight
nonetheless echoes plenti chutzpah left
English figures of speech
uttering unstinting (quote unquote)
premature ejaculations,
eh so blandly trite
non-sequitur visited
by thee epic of Gilgamesh
for a dangling participle
during the split infinitive Sumer season
(exclamation point) no more to write!
The silence in this house has developed a physical weight, settling into the corners where your backpack used to lean against the wall. I find myself standing in the center of your bedroom, the room that once held the chaotic geography of your childhood—the scattered books, the restless energy, the door constantly clicking shut against the world. Now, it is a pristine, clinical space. It feels less like a home and more like a carefully curated exhibit of a person who has already moved on.
I see the robin’s nest in the eaves outside your window, a fragile architectural feat of mud and dry grass. I have watched the mother bird for weeks, her devotion absolute and rhythmic. This morning, the fledglings took their turn. It was not a graceful soaring; it was a desperate, thrashing tumble into the abyss of the garden, a frantic beating of wings against the heavy reality of gravity. I held my breath, terrified they would not catch the wind, that the safety of the nest would be traded for the cruelty of the pavement.
But they caught the updraft. They climbed the air, turning their backs on the only shelter they had ever known to claim a horizon that was never built for them.
The instinct to protect is a tether, but the instinct to fly is a law of nature. I am learning that the most profound act of parenting is the moment you stop being the harbor and start being the shore—watching the vessel pull away until it is nothing more than a dot on the vast, indifferent blue of the distance.
The porch is quiet,
Empty shells left in the eaves,
You are the wide sky.