Long Awake Poems
Long Awake Poems. Below are the most popular long Awake by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Awake poems by poem length and keyword.
In my dreams, sitting by the fire, listening
To the sigh of winter’s whispering
Just beyond the window, a mystery
Breathing laughter through the heavens
In stars, shimmering messily, like they
Know what it is to be glowing just beyond
The reach of the sun, in the shadows
They erase every doubt with their brilliance,
Shining in echoes, inspiring prayers
I know the meaning of whimsical
As my paw presses wistfully against the miracle
Snow falling, flakes glistening in the distance,
Reminding me that, even in winter –
Beauty from His blessing tree fall over the earth,
Silencing the doubts that linger in autumn
When all around, trees are losing their hope,
And dreams start their early hibernation
Like me, feeling the weather’s chill, the still
Cool winds and storms, the season
That brings me into a deep sleep is the same
Season that brings me such sweet peace
It happens just after the snows begin,
When the gentling of rainfall has changed
From dripping liquid to drifting, gliding, glistening
Graceful flecks, like music notes, coasting
Aimlessly – wandering over the mountains,
Across the meadows and, sometimes even
Through the entrance to my abode, the cavity
In the mountains, surrendering to me…
A home…
Where the deep sleep has brought me
From the dark days of winter into the serenity
Surrounding this wistful piece of nature’s
Reflections into what only God could have stirred
In the heart of an animal as wild and eager as I,
Taking me from the desolation of winter’s bitter cold
Into dreams that forsake every storm with a kindness
Only found in the rich life of a dreamworld,
A dreamland where my heart is inspired, my soul
Delighted by the imaginings of an early spring,
The reminders that tickle me awake some days…
As I forget the winter and evoke the image of spring
Because it is true – that in every life –
Winter is not forever and my slumber, though
Pleasant, will not last either…
Afterall, just like you – bears like Spring
sunbathing too!
Winter is not Forever Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
January 21, 2023
In a place where hearts don’t mend
There were dreams that faded, never waiting
For the light to fall across their night, there bold, black
Fear, the apprehension that sold them on the need
To forget the hope, the dream, the ambition…
Listen, instead – to trepidations, apathetic whispers
From the mind who refuses to believe… it is surely alive,
This passion, this desire, this fire who decides…
In a place where ears refuse to listen to the promises,
The reassurance, the guarantee that this will bring
Consolation, solace, the greatest relief,
Invaluable comforting – forever – never grieving
The spirt who reminds that this is truth,
This is faith – this is the sigh of sweetest grace.
In a place where feelings bleed destiny through the
Reality that wanders, swaying gently, at peace
Through the melancholic soul, the loss, the lost dreams
Echoing – thundering – raining down memories
Times when, yes – oh yes… there was motivation,
Where there were aspirations, purpose, a spirit of fire
Prompting the heart to continue through the darkness,
Forget all the blinding nights and fall into the promise,
Confidant that this would become a reality, assured…
This, the dream… never faded from this beautiful
Always alive, like the moments with the Son,
The One who shines through the prayers, the praises
Inspiring, urging, heartening… yes, the dream
It is a living thing that can only be colored by the hand
Who gave it wings, the hand of the One whose grace
Never fades – is so amazing… He paints the heart
In visions, reveries, passions – forever blessing every
Dream with hope that brings awake the need to believe in destiny
Still as the color gray, stone cold
And unfeeling,
Like a sorrow that has been paid
By the heart who loves, loves gently,
Gladly, with sincerity and affection,
A trembling sense of joy and generosity
Raining light full of blessings.
Silent as the crisp, cool winter, bitter
And stifling the feelings
Who bleed light, soft and gentle,
Into the heart of each snowflake that settles,
Beyond the dark night,
Beside the shimmering stars, the moon
So bright it seems to sigh it’s phantastic,
Wonder so bright it grows wise in its song.
Soothing away the darkness, the night
Softly glowing with heaven’s delight,
Insight into the realms of peace, so alive,
Like butterflies and winged creatures,
Angels who abide past prayers,
In shadows, so graceful, arranging for love,
Trembling adoration, awake and calm,
Shining as bright as the morning sun –
Pouring out joy, on and on…
Nevertheless, there in the whispers
Fondling the darkness, the memories
Exploding on hearts who hear her quivering,
Breath, flowing like the enchanted truth,
Wings winsome, bringing beauty,
Souls marked by hope – spontaneous light,
Freezing in place the joy, the grace,
Unaffected by the doubts,
Deception all around, yet it cannot wound,
It is here and now, where we see…
Through the hesitant words, into the rhythm
Homeless poems, making a way through the deserts,
Wilderness of verses unknown, unheard, unbroken
Words, dead like the promise of a heart…
Seeking peace from the dark – seeking
Light from the murky waters of doubt,
Seeking love in the cold winter of a past,
Where love was trampled out of hope’s grasp,
A past where love never was asked…
Could it last? Oh, dear… could it last?
DAWNDRA (1)
The night stars just lighted in my eyes,
Plated on the skies like a shining onyx stone
Far from the reach of men...
As the full moon steps out of pitch darkness
But I won't entertain the moonlight candles
To drip a pinch of sleep or slumber into my fluorescent eyes,
Set to light up my world and yours,
Just as Dawndra keeps my soul alive and awaken,
With a distant love that can't be fathom
And keeps my soul awake
Just for the share of your priceless and esteemable Soul.
Let me wait for you in motion
Until my heart for you burst in explosion.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2017.
With: Roxie Hamilton
I remember my phone ringing loudly
The sun had only just begun to peer across the horizon
There was a familiar voice on the other line,
“It’s grandpa...”
I knew what that meant, even barely awake at 7 AM
But still, all I could say was “what do you mean”?
I’m not quite sure what I expected her to say, anything other than;
“He’s gone, honey"
But that's all she said
Although we didn’t say goodbye before you laid to rest
I’m positive now, that I could've never guessed;
All the words I might have said, while you laid there dead
All you are now is a memory, a fragment in time at best
But you will always be my grandpa, my hero
The man who saved me from the dangling edge
The early morning hours dripped with the heaviness of the atmosphere,
the pseudo breeze simply stirred the stagnant oppression of the air.
On the rose-colored patio blocks just within the edge of overhanging shadows
the furry gray squirrel sprawled out basking with all fours and tail stretched
to the limits of his tiny body panting in the anxious desire of relief.
Though I tapped the glass door he contemplated me reluctantly
yet did not move his position and then he stood up, ruffled his plump feathery tail and slowly tiptoed toward the garden. He slipped in and out the greenery until he found the spot, a small patch of dirt untouched by growth. He scratched and scratched again, then it appeared he had collapsed yet remained alert and awake, He rolled left then right, bringing his hind legs up as if in a fetal position and he kicked and rolled and rolled again until the dirt rose in cloudy puffs.
Then it last he stilled, relaxed and cooled, he lay calm and refreshed for a moment then two then three, ready to take on the day.
When the late-night moon, begins to fall
And memories of yesterday, I recall
I hope to see, another moonlit sky
Just one more time, before I die
All my thoughts, held in my heart
I'll cherish dearly, till I part
For when the new moon, does arrive
I hope my prayers, kept you alive
Remembering thoughts, as I've grown old
And all the stories, that I once told
Will sound the moon, for you to take
When in the morning, your eyes awake
And when the morning moon, begins to rise
I hope to see, within your eyes
Love and joy, and life of bliss
Wish you awake, with happiness
By chance I'm ill, or perhaps it's you
I hope the moon, will still hold true
And give to thee, another moonlit sky
Just one more time, before we die
"Bears sleep all winter. Spring is their wake up call." Quote By Poet
All summer we have had fun,
playing and running down the mountain side.
My three brothers and I,
have grown from small cubs into teenagers in size.
Our mom said wintertime is coming,
snow will start to fall until springtime arrives.
Mom has been through,
many tough winters and heavy snows.
She has told us a bear's life is not easy,
mom loves to see us sleeping.
Restful sleep will be here when winter arrives,
dreaming will quickly pass the months away.
Winter is a quiet season for many,
as bears sleep so do the flowers and trees.
In spring all will awake,
awake to a world now filled with beauty and color.
Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn (the former ex lady friend
of my late father corresponded with me
some years back)
wrote (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic
of former exuberance toward English
Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar tongues wagging
less as tempus fugit slithers unseen
stealing most cherished, prized, savored...
commodity set to countdown immediately
post parturition, yet blessed for thee
to be gifted your then four score plus four
amazingly graceful journeys celebrating
your existence replete with handmaid's
tales chronicling quotidian trials and
tribulations, yet still adept, buoyant,
cogent, diligent, eloquent, fervent,
gallant, hellbent, intent, jimmying,
kindling, loving, mustering, nursing,
outlasting...Methuselah (ha...if only)
lucid moments nudging awake
memorialized occasions, where once
upon a time (seems bajillion years ago)
innocence concomitant with naivete
throve, wherein unfettered dalliances
found untrammeled lasses and lads
absorbed with natural unbridled virgin
love – gathering rosebuds while they may
whispering sweet nothings strictly
for respective paramour, (this of course
hearsay and speculation) promising each
other moon and stars ah...dusty fading
memories, yours truly can never recount,
(cuz mental illness co-opted, hijacked,
up-ended...adolescent maturation,
whereby agonizing crippling forfeiture jabs
silhouetted illusory oasis peopled with
all the golden opportunities left to wither
on the vine o'mine youth, which mirage
mocks escapist attempt into literary realm
invisible dead poets society regale an
existence bereft nope, no App could
ever even virtually duplicate (even
approximate) sidelined unrequited love,
and no this marriage yielded scanty
satisfaction, which fantasy life as
Norwegian bachelor farmer
(within mine imagination) solved,
where living off the grid remedied
forever being pennilessness, day late
dollar short dime a dozen dirt poor
dude dulling dufus...that's the news from
my Lake Woebegone...where all the
women...and children above the law
never get reprimanded.
Once again coffee, dark with cream.
Cold Autumn morning creeps in.
First sips only steaming. Dreaming
of my warm bed, not hardly.
Five o clock and all is we-el!
Not ever comfortable in bed,
toss and turn whenever I’m awake.
Can’t wait
to get up and at ‘em
as early as possible.
A few steps ago, I’d sleep in
until 8:30…all was not well.
Taking better care of myself.
Spoke to God before the sun spoke to me.
Start of a great day whatever it might bring.
A quarter-full still of my preferred bean,
Peet’s Major Dickason. Hurry up…
I will be wading through water later.
Reading, writing, the news, then
the ride along with my husband
to the fitness place.
They provide towels, however many I need.
Lots of things to do but I am limited for now.
Perhaps down the line, I can try pickle ball.
Brain doesn’t just hang out in the morning,
it fires up like a jubilant candle, sashaying
in moment to moment, sighing with pleasure.
Hope your day is as bright. Here I’ll light
your candle with mine. Pass it on.
It’s dark enough in the world. Be a friend.