Long Beholder Poems
Long Beholder Poems. Below are the most popular long Beholder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beholder poems by poem length and keyword.
Shall we guilty claim
a rose, as her beauties rain?
when suppressing her prickles
floods of her blood
bedew her roots
absorbed in grace.
Shall we banish beaming scents
of a rose rising in light?
when flourishing wonders
and streams of delight
flowing into human veins
avidly captured beyond words.
Shall we a beholder blame
for admiring in shining light a rose?
when many a reason
grant noble human hands
to hold an evergreen rose
rejoicing at divine creation.
Shall we a rose deny
a deep inner desire
to serve and give?
Bearer of Aphrodite and Venus Love
showy but unrevealing
transcends words what she conveys.
Shall I Euterpe invoke
my rose to inspire?
with sacred music
words above the clouds
penetrating fervent hearts
that never leave the heavens of poetry.
August 11th, 2018
I watched the sun going down this evening
leaping over mountains and towns
ascending long rays of light upon still water
sparking lights of infinite glory mesmerized
my thoughts keeping me in perfect harmony.
I lay motionless on the green grass of hope
and gazed at the setting sun anchored
deeply in the thick blue sky
with the forces of nature embracing me
I surrender obediently to its will.
The verdant grass surrounding the pond smiled heartily
at the setting sun as it lingers resiliently
pouring its radiant light upon my skin.
rays of joy ruptured inwardly and I could feel
a wonderful energy hurdling within
hoisting me higher and higher.
Was it an illusion or was it bonafide?
My body was still on the ground but
I was ignited with the sun and absorbing its heat.
It replenishes me with a magnificent energy
that was immensely comforting and complete.
The sun twirl around in the passionate sky
Revealing different shades of blue, indigo,
Navy, and royal blue, mixed with shades of
Sappier blue bundled with peacock blue.
I could feel the gentle touch of the baby blue
And powdered blue filtering around me.
Heaven helps the magnificent indigo sky enthralled
With all its mysterious awe, entwined in the eyes of the beholder.
Infinite abundance thunders beneath me
elevating me to a prestigious acclaim.
The sun shines brightly then slowly fades away
and buried itself under the royal blue clouds
Then finally rest peacefully on top of the mountains.
A sudden peace subdued me
and a strong energy flowed through me.
I got up and walked towards the pond
and watched the youths having fun
they were standing on my sacred rocks
casting their fishing rod in the water
while chatting and having fun.
Who knows the ritual of the setting sun?
©2015 Christine Phillips
Quote --The ugly girl cries in front of the mirror,
She does not want to adorn herself as no one cares,
Till her blind lover tells her how beautiful she looks,
She hugs him, kisses him and finds her beauty in him. -- unknown
An old sweater, stitched long ago
by my wife’s loving hands,
might feel old to some eyes—but to me
it’s warmth and faith that still withstands.
My novice painting endeavors,
Laughed as worthy of hanging in the garage or a closet,
The time and excitement I had working on them,
Reflects my passion and an artwork of my dreams.
Grandparent's face lined deep with time and laughter
is scorned by those who only see scars;
to me it’s a sky of constellations,
each wrinkle a roadmap to the heart.
The hillside shows its wounds to others—
ash-choked ferns, a world burnt away.
I see wild soul among the ruin—
a story that the storm can’t fray.
That old book, pages dog-eared and worn,
might look shabby to a passer-by.
But to me it glitters in amber light—
a whispered memory that will never die.
If ever voices deride what you hold dear,
simply—gently—remember:
The rose that blooms in midnight’s hush,
The song known only by your mind,
And the face that loves you best in this world—
imperfect, true, and defined
By the gaze that cherishes it.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Blooming before us, like dandelions sprouting in the spring.
Rising above and beyond, invisible during the day,
Guardians at night.
Dangling up high as if it were puppets.
So close, mountains could give a kiss away.
The Stars dance and wiggle, as if putting on a play.
Clouds form a dark, grey, thunderstorm,
Clapping and roaring vividly, like an applause.
The wind glides along in appraise.
The moon shivers and squirms, it smiles upon the stars.
A shooting star evolves,
Leaving a trail of the dreams that sparkle in the dust.
Feeling pure joy, the
Moon erupts into a wall of tears.
Water breaks the bond of the dreams attached to the star,
It slowly sinks down into the homes, in the rooms,
Into the minds, of the beholder.
It has now lost its dreams.
The sun is rising, and the star at once must become invisible,
It now must start over and watch from above like a hawk.
It now must watch the lives of everyday people,
And become one with the beholder.
It now must take dreams and guard them with its life.
It now must take on its duty as a Dream-Catcher.
Faith is in the beholder and it can be true and dear
Having faith to keep you strong against the negative world out there.
When times are down and you are at your last ebb
Call on your Faith for its there.
Day or NIght Faith is listening to your heart.
Interuation comes to play when you need a start.
Knowing there is a Faith to abide to
Keeping you grounded but still true to yourself
That is Faith for you.
Where ever in the world you are
Have a little faith
IT Can lighten up your heart and help.
Others around be it family or friends
Will support you and put you back on your feet.
Faith is also Love which has no bounds
Put them together and you will be astound.
IF YOU HAVE FAITH AND LOVE first of all
THINGS THAT YOU WISH CAN BE HEARD
AND COME TRUE TO YOU.
Autumn leaves adorning the barren earth
hold beauty for the beholder alive
whilst their presence in the void smiles in mirth
always divine entwined, in the bliss hive
This dream life unfolds in as is ordained
heart’s desire being manifest here now
fulfilling each whim but soul feeling chained
until we do choose, love pulse to follow
No sooner we exit game of shadows
we awake here and now, free from bondage
delusion drops away, heart lotus grows
no longer with desires, battles we wage
The path is easy; we simply let go
Rekindling our souls light, in stillness slow
02-February-2022
In an imaginary world where believe is everything,
there existed a dress of a magic perception,
for any occasion or who you meet it changes to its occasion.
Like the individual feeling you sense in that circumstance,
giving the eye of the beholder a dress of perceptive romance.
The dress always in perfect fit and accessories included,
the soul knows that she is perfect and the dress has to reveal it.
But as the soul matures only by experience,
the dress struggles with making perfect decisions.
The compromised dress in the wrong place,
and with whom not at the right time in sensitive space.
Tensions touching the weakest button,
the swilling chest of motions gets the boat rocking.
The top button jumps into the reflected image,
splitte personality without knowledge.
One cannot blame others, they acting like a mirror,
making the perfected image more queerer.
Every smile you get is usually a compliment,
creating reflections in multitude consent.
Every soul in its multiple reflection dress,
many mirror souls making beauty timeless.
the eye of the tiger is the eye of a criminal
the eye of the tiger is the eye of the forbidden
the eye of the tiger is the eye of the beholder
a criminal is a eye of the tiger
a criminal is a eye of the forbidden
a criminal is a eye of the beholder
a forbidden tiger is a forbidden eye
a forbidden tiger is a forbidden criminal
a tiger's eye is a criminal’s eye
a tiger's eye is a eye of the forbidden
the forbidden law is the forbidden eye of a criminal
the forbidden law is the forbidden eye of the tiger
forbid is forbidden of an eye
forbid is forbidden of a tiger
forbid is forbidden of a criminal
the eye of the tiger is the forbidden eye of the tiger
the eye of the tiger is the forbidden eye of a criminal
a tiger's eye is a tiger's eye of a criminal
a tiger's eye is a tiger's eye of the tiger
behold is behold the eye of the tiger
behold is behold the eye of a criminal
there’s a great terror in the universe
there’s a beast in the great terror of the universe
a beast is a beauty of a great terror
a beast is a beauty of a great terror in the universe
beauty is the beast,beauty is the great terror,beauty is the universe
beauty is the beast of a great terror
the eyes of the beast is the eyes of a great terror
the eyes of the beast is beauty of the beast
the eyes of the beast is the eyes of the beholder
the eyes of the beast is the beholder of the beast
the eyes is the beholder of a beast
the eyes is the beholder of a great terror
beholder is beholder of a beast
beholder is beholder of a great terror
beauty is the beholder of the universe
beauty is the beholder of a great terror
beauty is beauty in the eyes of the universe
beauty is beauty in the eyes of the beholder
beauty is beauty in the eyes of a great terror
the beholder of a beast is the beholder of a great terror
the beholder is the eyes of the beast
it has been written
in one of the books of nikki…
if you look into a mirror
you’ll see a beautiful creature
looking back at you…
it is assumed
that in the reality
of nature there are both
beauty and ugliness
and that both
are at the interpretation
of the eyes of the beholder…
behold—beneath the epidemic
shadowing—the risen sun
brightly spreading its grandeur
over the graveyard silence
of terrestrial beings…
broken only by the piercing echoes
of a flying flock of birds
overhead in rhythmic v-formation
thus shattering the otherwise anechoic
atmosphere that the imposed ensconcing
has placed upon all of nature’s humanity…
unlike nature’s storms—tornados, hurricanes,
tsunamis—& quaking earth, the present
enormity of pandemic devastation is not physical
seen or heard—only felt in the daily rise
in our human death toll…rising to its apex curving…
yet…through verandah blinds…can be seen
happy wasp building their nest…red-breasted
birds hop-scotching the greening grass
through which scurrying squirrels dash
as they eagerly elevator themselves
from tree to tree…blinking waving smiles…
in the midst of the ugliness
that loneliness and fear can bring
in the shadow of death
nature has her way of infusing serene
beauty impregnating thanksgiving prayers
of another day of being perpendicular
to her cosmic presence…generating
shaded memory of the mourning
at the crucifixion...transforming
into exuberant joy and exhilaration
of the resurrection…
proving that this tormenting time too…
shall soon passover…
leaving blood-stained memories
of overcoming—returning
to the remaining struggle
for justice…equality…peace…love…