Long Blanketing Poems
Long Blanketing Poems. Below are the most popular long Blanketing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blanketing poems by poem length and keyword.
Through layers of snow,
White blankets, the world
Peaceful and quiet, still as grief – abiding
I stay hidden, secreted in the darkness,
Buried beneath the dust, the mud, the earth
Where life awaits the springlike touch
From sunshine’s blessing, rich and glorious
Awakening the music of a heart’s mystery
Soothing, like stardust – so gentle,
Light covers my grave, so somber
Earnest and peaceful, I lay quietly, waiting
For the miracle of a moment when sunlight
Breathes its wisdom through my veins,
Inviting me to rise through the soil, the richest
Clay, trembling with compassion, caressing
Away the frost, cold, so unsympathetic – bitter
Like resentment who fills the heart with
Doubts, distant thunders, storms in skies so blue
They feel like beautiful guiding me through
The reckless rest where I’ve been dormant, forgotten
By the twinkling stars, the sunrise and sunset
Never aware that I was even there – alive,
Hidden by the winter freeze, with ease
But, now – as spring silences the silver flakes,
There, hesitating within the earth, my tender leaves
Begin to peek, peering up toward the sunshine
Graceful and lulling, like the glimmering glories
Discovered in the new buds, stirring, emerging – soundless
On a quest for the light, the rain sprinkling through
The night, erasing winter’s touch with a growing
Promise – the assurance of a thriving blossom, a bloom
Who develops just as the heart begins to beat
With eagerness for the beginnings of spring,
Growing – springing from the darkness, resurrected
Great joy comes from the knowing, the hope
That revives the spirit, the feelings
In those who see that I have made it, once again,
Through the silent nights and the snow blanketing
On a land, sleeping through the winter’s smile,
Waiting quietly for the proper time to rise
From the earth, - new birth of a bud, a gentle
Wish peeking out from the past, prompting the spirit
To listen to the whisper of God’s tender gift to us,
Those who know that, despite our deepest wishes –
In time, in season – there is birthed a splendor
In spring, that splendor – that pretty comes from me
The bulb who waits, patient, beneath the ground
Where there is the promise that, in time, there will come
A beautiful flower who will brighten hearts like the sound…
Laughing in the breeze – a flower, free to breath!
I am scrolling down hill,
folding the pills,
elongating the tree's
and simplifying the breeze,
I am a song to be played-
earlier than you might say
in the day,
when hearing is a complaint
and danger is delayed,
but you are a spade,
to be wondered and craved,
you are your own way,
with the sing of the slave-
underground-
above the haze,
glazed with the betrayed,
honed in on like waves,
so stubborn your gay-
holding on to the page!
Don't you walk that way!
Troubled little weaver-
always weavin' in and out of the days,
with your face,
and two others that may show you the way.
So...Whenever there is game,
whenever you are just being insane,
two others can ring your ping-
scratch at your lawn,
ease your bickering fawn,
who is ages old-
cranky and yet cold,
shines like the rivers of silver soles,
wasted and bold.
...Blanketing and broad like the system of the slots,
put in a coin so you can jog-
with your eye's,
and with your pogs,
fall to the floor,
while dude ranchers await cry's out the doors,
become single and slower,
dangerous like snow blowers,
manned by cats
with fake joints hangin' in their lips crowin,'
as they are growin,' croppin,'
and sowing,
the stage is set to start goin,'
but you stay all knowin'-
with the people out there- asses a blowin'!
Like the sound of the tick was that on it-
like the leaper out of time was so subordinate,
you know you could have grabbed mine,
you know about other ways to shine,
but still you sit and grind-
sleep and unwind,
base your catches on other famous people's finds...
I don't confide,
I really don't try,
I just hear god and ask about the water in the sky,
why doesn't it come down on African pride?
When they need it most?
When we know 911 proved evil the most...
But sit here and boast
and you'll hear gods jokes-
he's got what a man needs,
he's got you underneath a sheet,
so don't breathe!
Just start running,
got the mustard?
Pray for a plead,
because random people leave
while friends try and greet,
an acre of land with animals and plants couldn't please,
even if they spoke the language, and cured the disease,
sorry if I sound meek-
but pride comes when I'm done writing these...
as the fresh morning utilized the Moons net
one last time before she turned in
while her other face puts on make-up
eagerly she waits to kiss...
Sunsprinkled showers of light
that frolic across the
ESH
R O
H L
T D
greeting me with interlocked
Rays of Righteousness
confirming my selfless request
IT WAS ANSWERED
meaning
a release of agony
will be
confiscated
by the soft breath
of the
Cosmos Canticle Clouds
wearing perma-smiles
since the moment
Creation
began...
they were given the responsibility of tickling dreams
subconsciously sleeping
as prosophobia promised physical penumbras
a chance to meet a mystical madrigal
that merged with a marvelous Merkaba
that was spinning...
On The Sultan Sea watching solarbears
swimming with spirituality...
they were there that day...
LEARNING...
to heal hearts
by offering a sip
from
The Fountain Of Youth...
letting go of this worlds reins
as this world prepares to let go of us
So sad really...
yet, in a beautiful way...
like bidding farewell to family...
AND WE'RE ALL FAMILY...
this too shall pass...
into portal pools of the past...
solidifying our memories that become...
shared stories through the communities stereo...
skipping like a silly star across the galaxy
SHINING...
supremely sharing their spirals...
through supersonic sound...
ECHOING...EChoinG...EChoIng....echoing...
through the Universe in unison
ushering energies to take a seat on leather stars...
THANKING US...
for our pin-cushioned patience...
PLEADING...
US...
to play the pastel piano
known to spray kinetic knots
knitted atop the night
by a kind knight...
as the notes could be seen leaving the first clouds property
taking in the changes of the song....
that became beautiful bolts
of bronze blessings...
blanketing the Earth
in brimstone pinecones...
that disintegrated into driftwood gatherings
Gathered by the Elect and The Elite, and their earsoothing
acapella epitaph...
causing rest...
might as well rest up for the next rendezvous...
my apologies I'm unable to stay...
for some reason its always been like this
and I wouldn't want it any other way...
I just Pray when I return I'm able to remember
MY ORIGINAL
NAME...
Rest In Peace
P.S.
see you in the trees
It took place shortly after and the stage was set
before words before ink before heavenly breath
There was a rain on the parade
of eternal monotony
and the angels were elated
In the Beginning God created... the verse everyone knows
tantalizing phrasing that leaves you on your tip-toes
before grass before plants before earthly foes
And the earth was without form... (and talk about void!)
It was there when it was all lightning and storm:
chaos untamed in watery upheaval,
though the celestial walls were impermeable
Enough disarray to make a grown man weep
And darkness was over the surface of the deep...
It was there before it was given the title: Sea
Before light was birthed with a "Let there be"
Blanketing the earth with cerulean comfort
in preparation for ethereal tickles,
despair happy to take her wings
And the Spirit of God was hovering...
Like a golden eagle dipping down
into azure pools
knowing mountains will soon rise from your depths
... but LOVE is the requisite
... and HOPE is the heart of it
Just like the weather that's about to hit the scene,
before Pangaea performs in emerald green
... and there was morning the Second Day
Can you not hear your doubts just wash away?
---remember what happened on the Third?
I'm sure you do---
As you see Him reaching down with liquid love for you,
longing to invigorate your being
He wants to split you in half
as the Rod of Moshe
made watery walls of crystallization
He longs to enter into your towering trust
(and not just on occasion)
For sometimes the Water of Life is dramatic
Sometimes it's not
And sometimes your fears could use a little irrigation
(right now your eyes could use
a bit of prayerful precipitation)
Remember the ruby water that dripped down
the Face of the Son
that fateful day
Drink it in Become full
Indulge in humble hydration
Your heart will tell you what you should
And behold it was very good...
NOTE: Moshe is the Hebrew rendering of the name Moses.
Written April 2nd, 2016
For the Element Water Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Six Words Used: Impermeable, Requisite, Invigorate, Crystallization, Precipitation, Hydration
Approaching winter...
OK, maybe encroaching mid-winter
of life's seasonal span
with resonantly compelling grace,
perhaps even transparent vulnerability,
feels controversial,
too laissez-faire
Too much courage
in declaring preliminary success
with too little curiosity
about what happens next
on planet Earth
Continuing to revolve all four seasons
dynamics
holistic lenses.
I recall the poet's admonition
to not go quietly
into this winterish
cold night.
Life's final reflective opportunity
does not invite quiet
so much as impassioned peace
of a windless snowfall
blanketing all I can see
and more faintly hear,
touch and awkwardly feel,
smell and bittersweetly taste
unsafe passage.
I recently moved from autumn habitat,
a creative tension between summer's midlife climax
and this new winter habit
above Connecticut's exquisite Salmon River.
This is a compromised writer's winter hermitage
shared with my son who cannot speak
but can roar,
who cannot walk by himself
but can scoot
and belly laugh at his own internal sensations
and my external sensational sounds.
And, following Daquan
from my fall habitat
to winter's eremetical search for peace,
however coldly displaced,
with social
and political
and spiritual
and natural distancing,
Behind Daquan
are daily in-home nurses
and his most avid companion,
my romantically distanced husband.
He comes bearing gifts
of clothes,
cleaning supplies,
far too much meaty food
for a proper hermitage
and not enough
for sufficient redemption
and for self-forgiveness.
He comes unaware of my ecofeminist wintering spirit,
longing for Earth's warm womb justice
restoring peace
resilient through all four seasons
of present
past
and future Earth lives.
My ecofeminist lineage
feels too white to him,
not a journey for him
and our two brown sons
and my brown and cerebral palsied daughter
and Daquan.
So, this writer's winter hermitage
remains newly compromised by past fall
and summer
and even spring
of extended multicultural family life.
May it always be so
or no,
I'm not sure which to pray for
or against
as I quietly write
into this warm and peaceful night,
just right,
not too dim or bright.
Peace in life
Blanketing life with mixing others
Search of freedom and joy of peace
Feels me a golden jail,
Rather, taking fresh breath
In the morning mild race would be fine
In grass crushing by feet
Maximum peace! I ever raised in heart
Was title given by smiles of others
I puzzle sometimes do they bear peace! Actually
So! freely to allocate me and others
Many unwanted kisses
In chick and neck by as if glutton piece
And hinges of boredom and chain of others
A classify of a moral tie only should be
In real life how there is peace!
So to say, grown up in such boundary
A matter of hardship to breathe free
Peace in life is then a matter of distant for me
Without digging, deeply, for nectar within heart
A vastness of purity, filtering through, inside for peace
Needs, grave deep involvement, and sink to find point,
where it is.
A case of research for person to person, differently
If one can find actual peace in life, Believe
Why all are in sorrows and still in confusions!
So,future is certain for them, only
Who digs path, in present, to see bright future
I will buy it investing millions, and will motivate others for it
I like, welcome persons enjoy and invest in benefit
Then peace in life and bliss in life will be search of equipment
All will live long gladly, happily and will rest heavenly
Continue.......
Actual peace and bliss are not free as human remain searching
Points:-
I think so, this is, this is
But to me and to them too
Who researched and identified with clarity
Follow them, that destination who perceived with honesty
Who they are! then a matter of question
To find and follow will be
Please search and research again and again
It is available in market easily
Perceive right shop and owner who could supply you
A piece of peace, a life piece for happiness and bliss.
Future is uncertain to them who says and lies lazily
See them who bought stars from the sky
In the market available everywhere
The beauty of future is only to them
Glitters and flashy fame are not real fame.
Real future is your present time
How you utilize as ants' retinue.
beneath the gnarled b r a n c h e s,
a photo rests within my clutch.
time d
r
i
p
s
like h o n e y e d amber;
i long for vanished visions,
saudade, a muffled heartache.
s
moonlight streaks through tangled trees; h
a silken s i l h o u e t t e shrouds my aura. t
a gentle caress grazes my shoulder, o
memories of her touch f l u t t e r like m
the past entangles with the present;
the scent of f a d e d jasmine lingers.
as the night drones on softly,
cold air wraps around my wistful longing.
poison ivy clings to crumbling cemetery walls.
i look to the heavens for answers,
as the sky weeps and squalls in erupting solar storms.
her scattered ashes settle like snowflakes,
softly blanketing the remnants of forgotten joys,
cradling memories like delicate g l a s s.
the red thread of family ties is now seve /
/ red;
the roots asphyxiate on generational sorrow.
if the olive trees knew what
became of hands that planted them,
their oil would become t
e
a
r
s.
time’s relentless hand ticks on,
while decaying hearts beat like distant d r u m s,
resounding in the silence of cursed solitude.
Our sun is weak
In efforts to fill up our sky today
It’s bleak, a softness of gray marches in
Blanketing our forecast
Mild autumn, cool breeze
Peaceful, rolling low
Dead leaves sweeping around
New pavement cracking ground
An acoustic dance they tap
Out comes a rustling beat
Chasing one another gracefully
Down our city streets
Boisterous hoards of vehicles
Slither and hiss
Creeping their way through
Our city grid
Every so often
Muscular trumpet engines, become outdone
Let’s revert to a momentary handsome jungle scene
Watch and listen with care
As we relish an obtuse family of king elephant’s, trembling
Warring a melancholy parade
Through mothers natural bad lands
Hammering earths ground
With their massive bone crunching feet
Wake up; shake off your visionary nod
Back to the sounds, back to the sights
Back to our tender autumn city nights
A Bass filled honorable horn
Explodes and stretches
Out from an engine train
Vividly flexible slithering through our city
Bouncing off buildings, rolling down alleys
Sliding down rooftops, through slivered windows
Into our homes
As I sit back and observe
This miraculous painting
Of a finely stroked autumn day
I fall in love with the sights and sounds
Which bark and cruise upon her canvas spread
Graceful or not
Beautiful and ugly
Spills or mishaps
O thou spices of our lives
Beauty has been splashed
Upon this land, mighty grand
Even to a family of three or four
So small a note
To the makeup of her….masterpiece composer
Are we grateful? Are we selfish full of lingering lust?
A low storm hungry,
Rolling over grand mountains
Nearly black, pushing east
A shimmering assault of rain shall be released
Once her sky opens up
Like soldiers Para jumping
From a gang of war planes
I render it’s still a bit to warm
For a christening of our seasons first snow
I guess…… you never know
The wildness that can bleed out of our autumn city streets
As we plant future angelic seeds
Sometimes my soul
resembles distant horizons,
like burning stars
abandoned between
dusk and dawn.
When the
sky hangs
as heavy as
my hazy heart,
I search for a sign
from heaven
to soothe
the somber sequences
of nature blanketing
mountains of misery,
as the spectrum of
colors is full of deception.
Maybe the universe
illustrates splitting
sunsets within
my murky thoughts,
As I'm oblivious to
the rhythm of
riveting songs of spring.
I sing
tunes of autumn,
orchestrated in
black and white,
grey refrains remain
locked as an encrypted
mystery of winter land,
within
esoteric hieroglyphics
blowing as
tornadoes of hurt.
I am envious of the
sound of comforting rain,
and clouds
carrying chaos-
weeping reveries of angst.
But what if these
translucent tears
and the anxiety I
try to hide,
fall like
mists of
haunting memories,
to follow the moon-glade,
ruffling along
sterling ripples,
unravelling
jasmine compassion
across rivers of
scattered gems,
would I then feel
the light of love,
synchronize
a eucalyptus lullaby
that sketches
amethyst amulets
through
midnight fears,
to embrace these
fragile dandelion wishes,
behind metaphorical
fields of periwinkle flowers.
My dreams are fading,
whilst darkness whirls
in unending circles.
I am barely breathing,
as the silhouette of
a pale sapphire
shatters into a
sea of sadness.
For you have
cast a shadow
upon the sun
within my mind,
and all that's left
in this eclipsed realm
is the petrichor scent
of healing,
amidst
the dying petals
in my balcony,
that mimic flames of
life and betrayals.
Maybe, it is from
the aftermath of storms,
we flourish rainbow
roses soaked
in redolent incense-
roaming through
an opaque canvas of clarity.
Hiding in my solitary cave,
I can’t undo my past mistakes
I regret it oh so much, but I’ll be brave
And face the penalties for my sins
And my spirit breaks
Abiding in the foggy night,
I can’t see the light in goodbye
I am feeling so upset and shady, but I’ll shine bright
And embrace the sunlight of freedom,
Giving me a natural high
Without you, I see my true colors
In the mirror, I drink in my insecurities
(Whisper: I’m trapped inside your ribcage)
I see who you are in the inside
Tragedy brews in my blood, there’s no where to hide
No where to hide…
(I’m trapped inside your ribcage)
Don’t blink and bite the bullet
See right through it
See right through it
See right through my pain
(I’m trapped inside your ribcage)
You’ll see my despair –
The throbbing heart can’t bear
The thought of losing you again
(I’m trapped inside your ribcage)
I’ll remain unapologetic
Until you rescue me from my demise,
That would be so…epic
Holding on to you for support,
I can’t survive without you by my side
I will lose several times, but I’ll win and escort
You to the road of eternal life and eternal happiness
You and I will enjoy this bumpy ride
Split apart your ribcage,
Open up the corridor, and let me come in
Uneasiness instantly strikes through me
Let me sway away...
Let me flutter away...
Like a butterfly out of its cocoon
I'm trapped! Let me depart
You’re stronger than you realize
But, my strength is immeasurable
I’m a tough guy in disguise
I will never, ever be instable
Or caught off guard!
I’m a positive, yet outlandish bard!
Let me go! Departure from me, you sad, sad clouds
Holding in melancholy,
Blanketing me with shrouds
Shrouds of despondency
Let me welcome the sun,
So I can be a light of the world like His son
Split apart your ribcage,
Unwrap me, let me go!
Believe me...reflect on me
Let me sway away...flutter away
Let us both seek the sun,
So we can grow together once more