Long Bay window Poems
Long Bay window Poems. Below are the most popular long Bay window by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bay window poems by poem length and keyword.
When they begin to erect new building in an old town
everything cowers, hunkers down except the ugly.
The ugly is in the concrete even before they pile it up
into office space and loft apartments.
The library and the townhall shrink.
Residents tend to scuttle faster
between the modern high-rise constructions.
The classic frontages, the Greco/Roman facades
once were the pride of a small town
now marble is only used for kitchen-tops.
Mid-West towns are not Manhattan
the sky here is too wide,
history gets brushed away under parking lots.
Nothing fits when the modern gets squeezed
into main street
or when it rubs against the sides
of traditional shop fronts.
Locals are told its progress, but even the ginger cat
who sits in the bay window
of 'Ye Olde' antique and yarn shop
knows better.
Bamboo leaves
Speak to the wind;
Ancient murmurs
~~~~~~~~~
New day hurls fast
Hymn of birdsong;
Sunburst glare
~~~~~~~~~
Birthday moods
Moments parade;
Hawkish sights
~~~~~~~~~
Curious tourist
Digital memories;
Another picture
~~~~~~~~~
Silent sentinel
Watches over me;
Guardian angel
~~~~~~~~~
New air-con poise
Cool ambience streams;
Outside heart wave
~~~~~~~~~
Evening dark
Hungry baby birds;
Chattering instincts
~~~~~~~~~
Here by this beach
One solitary figure;
Early excursion
~~~~~~~~~
Shoreline at dawn
Sun beams dancing;
Bird wing moments
~~~~~~~~~
Transit trains
Crowded station;
Rush hour devotion
~~~~~~~~~
News flash
Another plane crash;
Aviation tragedy
~~~~~~~~~
Bay window view
Two black birds;
Morning choral
~~~~~~~~~
Haiku soliloquy
Speak to the dawn;
Dazzling skyline
~~~~~~~~~
Joy comes again
Melancholy lapses;
Mindful moments
~~~~~~~~~
Crowded spaces
So many faces;
Loneliness presides
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
24 May 2016
Singapore
My heart utters gently: you are seven;
I am too. Yet, the bloom of womanhood
carries us now unto fields where
spiced pleasure and abandonment mingle…
I reminisce our childhood years, when as a girl,
we would look out the bay window
till late evening, awaiting Dad’s arrival.
How cold those months while we freeze
in longing, in tireless dismembering
from an absence you , I could not bear:
oh, we escape through storybooks, art-play,
even dialogues with a guardian-moon
allowing the release of damn cries, ‘ We don’t
need a soldier, we need a father!
Although the fear of sudden loss remains,
this navel spins in unified order; knowing
he loves us despite his passion for freedom.
It is about time we embrace a wholeness
ordained by healed seasons… then to dance
around the fire, under dusk’s awakened joy;
searching for the magic of stars…and treasure
each purpose of Dad’s cherished footprints.
..................
Laura Loo Contest: Any Poem Won in November ( not from mine)
Written 10/17/2017
Resubmitted: 12/3/2017
Contest: What Child Is This
MOONLIGHT SERENADE
The night turns cold as the misty breeze
comes from the meadow.
Where the moon was covered
with spells of the
sky's shadow.
Look down, my Love,
I'm here waiting and standing
outside your bay window.
The melody of the song
I serenade you was lovely
and as beautiful as you!
Written by: Rosey RMV
06 OCTOBER 2017
THE SUNFLOWERS- With the morning sun on the rise, they slowly lift their heads and their petals of yellowish-gold spread smiling with the sun.
THE HOUSE- As a passer-by, sitting atop a hill all trim and newly touched with a brush, it's white and blue shutters swing to the light breeze as quiet sets the mood.
THE LAMP- On low-glow, dimness surrounds the light beige drapes and the leaves from the long-stemmed plant sag downward as if fireworks were falling.
THE HIGHCHAIR- The tray all covered with remnants of chocolate pudding and cookie crumbs sits empty and all alone in the corner...mom holds baby boy on her shoulder where he rests his head and sleeps
THE DOG- Sitting on the edge of a bay window quietly looking at the rain dropping, she sits with her eyes drooped and her head resting on her front paws.
THE SUN- As it rounds the world, hues of light and dark blues set the tones of dusk and dawn...birds, bees and butterfly's paint the skies.
THE OCEAN- A shoreline of white caps ripple while calm waters beyond views sailboats, seagulls, and spotty white fluffy clouds in the horizon
THE MOON- Surrounded by pinholes, the huge white hole in the sky brightens the paths through the forests and alleys where lovers hold hands and stare at falling stars
THE MOUNTAINS- Above the lake, their shadows mirror. Colors of brown, orange, red and green is center staged around the log cabin off to the left, to the right...a man and his son fishing from the dock.
Form:
I am sitting in this cabin,
’twas built so long ago
up here in the wild mountains,
has a big bay window,
a vast and sprawling forestscape
greets my wandering eyes,
then comes that familiar urge
to get up, go outside.
Go traipse that hill off to the left,
I bet the view is good,
scope that meadow off to the east,
where deer come from the wood,
to climb down in the roaring gorge,
and see what I can find,
the world’s an endless treasure trove,
and no man has much time.
One cold rove for a whole lifetime,
and I do love to wend,
yet for all that I find myself
coming back here again.
I come across this sensation,
sometimes it feels quite odd,
why huddle here when I could see
the sublime work of God?
Tall mountains carved out of marble,
rivers that bend and shape,
great creatures that are unchanged since
before the human race,
shimmering, thunder waterfalls
hammer holes in the earth,
volcanos full of liquid land
always ready to burst,
and ruins of the great men past,
carved right into the stone,
building up the finest structures
that man has even known.
I know that all that is out there,
and I want to see them,
but somehow I still really want
to sit right here again.
Perhaps I am getting older
and life is getting dull,
perhaps my reason says, “Why Try?
You can’t see it in full.”
Maybe the scale is much too much
for any human mind,
maybe this space shrinks it all down
to something well defined,
to something that my mind can grasp,
that my will can control,
is the vastness how God tell us,
“Stay humble, know your role?”
Could it all just be potential
when I sit here and stare,
the allure of the mystery,
of what could be out there?
Is it a page from Schrodinger
when I look out and see,
is what might be more magical
than the reality?
Or is it quite the opposite,
do I like the surprise
of how what’s real works more deeply
than any thought inside?
Sure, I’ll go and explore the world,
like all us restless men,
but for all that, I know that I’ll
come right back here again.
Something's changed, I don't recall this door.
The mat that once read 'welcome'...now gone.
Am I lost in the night, or had I forgotten some slight..
had my address been quelled by another time?
The new curtains in the bay window seem nice,
though..not the deep blue highlighted sash you fell for.
And on that foreign floor, a sweet Labrador lies napping.
Not the lightning fast hound rescued from the shelter.
My key's jingle, so hollow in sound, questions me now..
whether I know left from right, right from wrong..
Two boots waited, under an unfamiliar porchlight,
neither I recollect as my own..
every sunset I knew seemed to've gone.
I stepped back from a stranger's stair, perhaps deceived by my own eyes..
retracing my tired steps from the long day, to the oak in the yard,
was it always that tall?
Surely the messages you left would offer a solution from this lunacy,
a chance at a door opening, inviting me, lovingly from this nightmarish scene.
But they had all disappeared.., save one.
Staring hollow eyed into the dimming display's abyss, I read the last will..
your last thought retraced..in taps' mournful horn.
The air in my lungs abandoned me, my shoulders suddenly
weighing so heavy, in a torn and bloodied uniform.
Somehow the night sky was no longer mine to share..
absent your side, shaking my head in my hands..
my God, how could it be?
The door and locks changed, the porchlight rearranged,
the blue curtains went too,
The scratch of toe nail's click clack.. nowhere to be found,
even the dog was removed.
Turning away from the lawn to the long sidewalk, oblivion my companion,
I laughed out loud at the fool and folly and future that lie in store.
There's a fine line between truly belonging.., and only being,
bitter lesson learned at a strange door..
Finally saddeningly, maddeningly.. it dawned,
why everything was tipped on its face.
Your last message, echo'd in my broken mind..,
'you've been replaced'.
Deep frozen snow, temps in the teens-
it breaks our hearts to see them try
and gather food by any means;
to stay alive neath winter's sky.
The deer out there seem so forlorn.
So many trails, no green in sight.
Sometimes an evergreen, not worn,
will help to soothe their appetite.
Neath bird feeders, their heads to ground,
they munch on fallen crumbs or seeds.
So happy for those treasures found
as snowstorms fail to meet their needs.
We've come to spread bread on the snow.
At our bay window, neath moonlight,
they look at us, as if they know-
we spared their hunger that cold night.
He told me he loved me.
It was winter and snowing.
We walked on the street.
In a suburb, what a treat.
Houses aglow, Rudolph outside.
I wanted Santa there to go
for a sky ride.
Mom had her pink flocked
tree in our bay window glowing.
He kissed me then, I hoped
my blushing was not showing.
That does seem, like centuries
ago.
That innocent kiss, so blessed
by the snow!
It was so crystalline and pure
as were we.
Kissing so sweetly,in front of
Mom's pink tree.
The years are gone, so is my
Mother, like her!
Oh.no, there shall never be
another.
God, eventually, calls us to our
eternal home.
Where happiness and peace do exist
and we never want to roam!
4/29/2021
With his droopy eyes; still
Saddened...by the unknown
I see in his face...loneliness
When I left him, confusion over-load
Nor did he ever know,
Would I ever return
I could still hear him as I waved driving away
I could still see his wandering eyes through the bay window
He was ever so happy
When finally...
I returned
Home
Our best friends never know if when we leave...when and if we would ever return. Dogs sense when we part for a few days, on vacation, work duty...or some other reason. But when we come home...it's pure joy and happiness for them...and likewise