Long Bell shaped Poems
Long Bell shaped Poems. Below are the most popular long Bell shaped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bell shaped poems by poem length and keyword.
A woodland beauty lures with teary eyes
Her scented sweetness lingers in the air,
Conceals a blemish under virgin guise
A woodland beauty lures with teary eyes
Like Eve bemoans her loss of paradise.
She flaunts aesthetics with a flare to dare.
A woodland beauty lures with teary eyes,
Her scented sweetness lingers in the air.
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Using (English version) Pentameter ~ each line has
10 syllables (5 metrical feet).
* teary … Lily of the Valley is also known as Mary’s Tears
[Legend has it that Lily of the Valley sprang from Eve's tears
when she was exiled from the Garden of Eden.]
**blemish … the Lily of the Valley is poisonous
***flare … indirect reference to ‘bell-shaped’ flowers
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Contest: Celebrate May with a Triolet
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placed 3rd
© 5th May 2019
Spring adds a fragrant freshness to the air:
earthy aromas waft beneath the snow;
as sunlight melts away Winter's despair.
Daffodils contribute color and flair;
and as balmy breezes bashfully blow,
Spring adds a fragrant freshness to the air.
Snowdrifts dwindle to patches barely there;
and frozen rivers, once more start to flow,
as sunlight melts away Winter's despair.
Wildflowers start sprouting up everywhere
and as daffodils, and crocuses grow,
Spring adds a fragrant freshness to the air.
The land no longer looks so bleak and bare:
on naked trees, green buds begin to show,
as sunlight melts away Winter's despair.
A treat to the senses, scented and rare:
bell-shaped lily-of-the-valley, hang low.
Spring adds a fragrant freshness to the air
as sunlight melts away Winter's despair.
As cave-dweller O man, thou wert crudest,
Ere civilized and a bit social made,
In a painstaking long march to the crest,
Evolving— a seed of creed mutated,
Ye struggled long before brought home baked bread,
As weeds lose out ere mutate in maze
Of labyrinthine lanes darker than dread,
From chaos were created newer ways.
No growth hast grown that would not get modest,
Undeterred, no head hath moved nigh ahead,
All progress in time tends to pause post-haste,
As brightest rainbows fizzle out to fade—
The nature of Nature none can evade,
Nature unfolds in long phase, not in days,
To vales turn top peaks that were once jaded,
Creation as comes in chaotic ways.
In eons human hope kissed vales and crest,
Surviving in cosmic womb, never dead,
Suffering birth pain quite un-manifest,
Remember, yon of that tall mountain head
Lies your fond dream. Do walk on, go ahead,
Not just on peaks, hope lives in vales, at base,
In journey too to enjoy, never dread,
A way forward comes from chaotic ways.
Envoi
Keep climbing, if hope be the only aid,
Inhale hope in every breath, don’t just gaze,
At rope’s end, O hang on by just hope-led,
For, from chaos are built morrow’s fairways.
____________________________________
Musings | 03.02.2011 | Hope
Poet’s note: Heart, it seems, lives on the edge of hope. The brooding head hesitates, delves into new depths, meanders, groping for a way out. Seeing the way much of the world is moving today, one tends to indulge in melancholic thoughts. Has man lost all hopes? I don't know but hope, it’s not so. Civilization, I suspect, is an inverted bell-shaped curve. Things get worse before they get better. Read also my ‘Hope: A bird wordless that sings', a ballade.
Take me there, where the daffodils dance,
Preening with joy, flaunting nature’s art,
Where birds have assembled to watch
Sitting atop, prancing from tips of treetops,
Tuning lyrics of cherry blossom prompts,
Strumming rhythms of spring sonata
As crimson tulips, with lilies purple waltz,
To music of willows breezing with dawn
When sun breaks through haze of clouds;
Traversing over the mountains and valleys,
Over green prairies, burbling tributaries,
Besides garden of multicolored pansies,
Amid bell-shaped bluebells, red hyacinth,
Frolicking on meadows of wild blue Iris,
Rejoicing pink blossoms of magnolia trees,
Glistening verdant knolls, lush foothills.
Take me there, where rivers meet oceans,
Merging the passions of fiery emotions
Riding with tides of romantic notions
Vying allure of love, emblazoning now;
Love that sustained in summer storms,
Love that survived through wintry wrath,
Love our souls extol, in spring’s warmth;
When I decipher your esoteric response
Where verses tender stem from my heart,
As day retreats humming nightingale’s song,
And eve’s dreams blush on magenta arc;
Take me there, my dear, where you are,
On the apex of love, on cusp of romance.
I stroll through the garden of delight,
Where fragrant flowers scent the air.
Each one a different hue and sight,
Each one a gift of nature's care.
I breathe in the sweet scent of gardenia,
A melody of citrus-floral blend.
It soothes my soul like a symphonia,
A white blossom, a harmonious friend.
I marvel at the lily of the valley,
A bell-shaped beauty, a graceful sight.
It fills my heart with joy and glee,
A fresh embrace, pure and light.
I inhale the rich scent of jasmine,
An exotic spice, sensual and bold.
It stirs my senses with passion,
A star-shaped flower, a story untold.
I unwind with the soothing scent of lavender,
A herbal balm, calming and mild.
It eases my mind with wonder,
A purple charm, nature's child.
I smile at the romantic scent of rose,
A classic love, floral and bright.
It warms my spirit with its pose,
A red symbol of the dove's flight.
I stroll through the garden of delight,
Where fragrant flowers scent the air.
Each one a different hue and sight,
Each one a gift of nature's care.
The Joining was one of subdued elegance. Seileach insisted on the ceremony being held in the Keep. Jessica was beautiful, beyond beautiful, she was exquisite. Her long red hair infused with sky blue Blåveis and white bell shaped Liljekonvall mingling in a beautiful waterfall along the right side of her head. Rødsildre weaved through the intricate braids that Chroí sculpted through her tresses, the pinkish flowers softened against the brilliance of the natural highlights in her hair with a crown of fragrant red Vivendel circling the top of her head. When Joulupukki saw her slowly walking down the winding staircase in the vestibule, her long azureus gown flowing like a stream down the stone of each tread, he was struck dumb. As she passed from step to step, the living hand rail bloomed deep violaceous coveys of wisteria flowers, a gift from Seileach's Forest Elves working in coordination with the Garden Elf. The whole ceremony felt like a dream. He listened as her bare feet tapped gently against the stone of the foyer tiles and crunched as she moved into the sand path of the courtyard where she joined, arm in arm, with her father who guided her from sun to shade and without any reticence placed her hand in Joulupukki's and stepped away. They stood beneath the willow tree and pledged their love and loyalty to one another, and, at length, were greeted by the numerous elves that lined the path winding through the Keep from the vestibule to the courtyard and back into the Great Eating Hall, where a feast was laid out for all of the village elves to join in the festivities.
Many years peacefully passed as the Elfin Clans' Council refined their guidance of the elves of all six clans, each clan developing their own council that took deference to the lead of the Council of Six. On occasion Joulupukki was asked to offer his opinion and vote on a difficult issue on which the council was split. There were elves that were elected to the council who were hungry for power but none could muster the votes to gain control before their term came to an end. Eventually Seileach was relieved of his position as Elder Councilman and Ceridfen took over. Lumi, at the request of his friend Joulupukki became a member of the Village Council and eventually the Council of Six.
Oh! floriferous, bold, roseate ebullience of May,
Alluring doting sights welcome-vibes you convey
Gracing edges, where the roses and azaleas sway
Forming resplendent ballet of multicolored array;
O rhododendron, flamboyant in euphoric morn,
Flaunting flaming-purple how gardens you adorn
Where hummingbirds frolic and butterflies play
And bell-shaped showy blossoms greet sunny day
As jubilation of spring, breezing your realm serene,
Revels in whorls of petals pristine, as you preen,
Boasting hints amethyst on elegance evergreen
Sprinkling perfumed ambiance on tempo upbeat
Where pulse of romance strums passionate beat
Lauding floriferous display, as if a flower bouquet;
O rhododendron~ roseate, ornate beauty of May!
June 8, 2022
Purple Flowers Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
A young girl
with brown hair
braided back
holds before
her a parasol
striped in two shades of blue
At her neck is
the lacy collar of
an elegant long-sleeved
Ivory colored blouse
Seen in profile
her face is turned
slightly
downward
as if she is
in quiet reflection
Behind her
is sky light blue
but directly
in front of her
is the expanse
of a large cloud
enveloping half the sky
Four white butterflies
seem to dance
behind her
One beige butterfly
and a small blue one
have alighted on her
bell-shaped beige skirt
swept outward
That skirt is an upside
down lily
floating above
ground,
for her entire
lower body
has become the flower
which has lifted
toward sky and cloud!
The maiden
hovers above
blue dandelion-like blooms.
I imagine her f l o a t i n g off
into her own
imagination,
for she is as light as
the fluff of the
strange blue dandelions
which I can imagine
blowing away
with puffs
of my breath
and
a wish
POOP - TALE : for contest
No embarrassment , everyone poops
So relaxed is the feel after all 's out
No gold and riches can ever buy such feel
I am sure all will agree silently though!
We get that feel for free as nature calls
In body, poop factory is so well- fitted
Based on our lifestyle it is regulated
Frequency n' timing our habits decide
As far as we breathe , we have to poop
No matter where you are, who you are...
How many times daily varies with species and diet...
Bamboos and honey diet makes Panda bears poop,
more than a forty times in a single day !
In other species range follows bell shaped curve
A balanced input-output cycle continues..
Doctors diagnose ailments examining poop,
Sausage shape is ideal poop the doc opines..
Mothers of kids worry if they cry while they poop
Too much delay makes happy a trader in laxatives!
Night soil in fields have made a fertile land
Poop of cattle folk is a manure too good
Everyone poops and is so useful too...
Deadlines and work pressure,meetings with boss
Petty tussles with friends or your own spouse.
Ask for a break saying you need to poop
Instantly you are permitted and you may slide out
Enjoy this break behind washroom doors !!
No more shy business, everyone poops!
Engrossed in reading a suspense thriller,
Or watching the climax of a movie horror
As soon as poop siren raises alarm, you got to go!
Ultimate rule is please don't control
Happily you poop poop poop and flush out !
FOR CONTEST- EVERYONE POOPS
Sponsored by:Roy Jerden
Submitted by: Anulaxmi Nayak
Date: 9th August 2015
glossary:
Bell shaped curve: the normal distribution curve
which has values of all ranges and takes a bell-shape.
Saddens when strength fritters, muscles run to flab with age;
a once smooth surface wrinkles bold etchings of joy and sorrows
while rough landscape seizes the trophy, buries beauty beneath
creases and squinting eyes and drooping girth and jarring joints.
Look at a mirror—you're yet you at heart though reflection feigns.
Beauty is forever, not strength, not health. Life has a bell-shaped
trajectory—a sure-fire sine curve, though the sonic boom pales
at prime. Blurred vision fails to see the diminishing present
or the long haul ahead; ought to, and so cuddle the rhythm,
bound up to breast the finish line. Else gamble at summer's crest;
winter in the trough with a wobble. What an old age with sighs
and stings, peace paling with aching joints and flabby muscles!
Robbed of youthful verve, a pain prick twitches the nerves.
What a youth spent as if now's forever! We all need a brace ahead
of when the frail frame fails at nine or ninety... or in between!
The wise may think otherwise. Maybe!! The pudding has proof.
All I know: Old age is divine!
© Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
4 February, 2019