Long Blend in Poems
Long Blend in Poems. Below are the most popular long Blend in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blend in poems by poem length and keyword.
Dictated by the times, I guess,
my youthful dreams would stretch
in stories and imaginings of simple black and white
where heroes and villains stole away the sleep of night.
Those transparent years seemed less aware
of all the efforts in life's translucent fair.
Those were the days of hued monochrome vision
when questions rose in every darkly tinged decision.
Today with colors blended beyond the prime
black and white dreams would be toned a crime
and a myriad of vivid color lay on the artist's palette.
So the colors tend to meld and blend in dreamy flight
as if the sun and moon gave a shaded brilliant light
to the beauty of the mix dyed blushed delight.
Do you dream in color?
Are your nightly escapes dark and shadowed by the drapes?
Fall deep asleep in gold and green discolored fields
with all of your blood and beating heart to yield
to the wonders and the magic once absent
of life colored in its mysterious pageant.
At least, let us both walk
alone with eyes open
and ready for every surprise
that nature has in store today,
and let us imagine our quiet, shared
conversation
as we traverse the woods
hopping to hear an owl,
or spot a purple finch,
maybe even,
an American goldfinch.
(They don't blend in,
after all).
I would love to spot
something rare or vivid
or yellow with a woman
who knows infinitely more
about everything
that chirps, croaks,
scuttles, and sways.
Adelola, Adelola, Adelola
Your name could be the
morning song
of a mourning dove.
Adelola, like all things in nature
you belong and sing your own
beautiful song.
On my walk with you
I will dig out red jasper
from the tough southern clay
and offer it to you, warm
from the Carolina sun.
On my walk with you,
I will make you a bouquet
of short bamboo stalks,
white jasmine, buttercups,
and azaleas (even though
they will be wilted by
tomorrow).
I will tie your bouquet with
the strongest grass
growing down by the pond.
I will paint you
down by the pond
in watercolor
after you teach me
about all the living
organisms we can
and cannot see.
You are a more useful human
than those that hoard plastic
treasures, fancy clothes, and
colorful, fashionable stuff.
You give, and your heart
is always full.
I'll flick all the bugs
off of you
and smile
at the ladybug
on your shoulder
(the lucky girl).
Nothing will make
my Adelola stumble
or trip while we
are walking together.
You are a woman of true grit
who loves the earth she walks on,
who gives all to her children
as the most altruistic animals do.
Adelola, you are
the African elephant:
always on a rescue mission,
or, if you prefer water,
the dolphin:
marine superhero
to the rescue!
Adelola, you are
the African bat
feeding the hungrier
bats around you.
You are much lovelier
than the bonobo,
but you share the same
loving qualities
for social harmony
that God smiles down on.
He has never
stopped smiling down
and up, and through you,
my Adelola.
Happy birthday
to an extraordinary woman
whom I will never meet
but like my grandmother,
I hope God will introduce me to
in heaven.
The Political class
The problem with politicians is we need
someone to represent us and they do for a reward
the power and prestige.
Delegates speak fluently give promises they have
no intention of keeping and a prone to corruption
and will always do the bidding of the haves.
In the corridors of power, they strike deals which
are hidden for us and when called out they lies
and we are often too willing to believe them.
Of course, we have democracy and elect someone else
who say what we like to hear, but they the new brooms
somehow blend in with the rest of their class
and many run their own businesses that, they say, is
because they work hard, I call it skulduggery.
President Macron of France is a good example, silver-tongued
and charming he pretends to want a just society
when the truth is he only represents big business
and doesn`t bother to talk to the lower classes except
for platitudes and when we discover the truth, it is too late
a politician who has no ideology is only in for this
for control and when they fail feel no shame just
go back making money elsewhere.
I live on the frozen tundra where cold winds blow
I'm never bothered by the amount of ice and snow
The thickness of my feathers are deep at my chest
like a downy insulated coat that's better than a vest.
I'm busy keeping watch over my two mated hens
who sit on the nests we've built on mounded dens.
I've eleven mouths to feed, all screaming for food
at night I'm quite busy searching the neighborhood.
My golden eyes are keen so I can see best in the dark
When I dive for a morsel I never miss my targeted mark.
I hear something scampering beneath the blanket of snow.
It's a scurrying little mouse. Be right back, I have to go.
Another snack for my babies, newly out of their shells.
They think they have to eat when their stomach compels.
Now that it's quiet, I'll perch on a branch up in this tree
and keep a watch out for predators who want to eat me.
Hunting is much easier because my fur coat is purest white.
I blend in just perfectly with the snow by day and at night.
I can turn my head in any direction by swiveling it around
Until my prey approaches, I'm good at not making a sound.
A fox is creeping in from the North, hoping for some action
but my sharp talons will chase him away, to my satisfaction.
Excuse me for a moment, but I see an approaching artic hare,
a hardy meal for the chicks, my mates will chew to prepare.
There are humans living near by, in a log cabin over the hill
they leave meat out for me when they make a fresh kill.
I've no reason to fear them because they never hunt for owl.
I love living in this frigid climate where I'm free to fly and prowl.
__________________________________________________
January 31st, 2016 Owl Personification Contest by Eve Roper
Breath of Spring
Soft zephyrs drift on wings of thawing mists,
Gossamer breath touches shivering hearts,
Shadows of vernal memoirs linger - a kiss -
Restless cold mistrals in a huff depart.
Between cold winter’s last icy exhale
And summer’s heavy breathing siroccos
A gentle breath hugs the heartbeat so frail
Awakening the sleeping beauty Hope
Floral murmurs blend in unison breeze,
Unrestrained canticles of glory runes,
Beneath sighing ides of equinox seize
Joy - an empty tomb after the first moon.
Through fluttering breaths of resurrection,
Frozen lungs breathe new perfume - perfection.
3-2-21
Contest: Breath of Spring
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Drinking black coffee, looking at real people go past
Sitting on my usual seat, as they morph into drones
Pushing shopping trolleys, in a semi-focused trance
Always one step ahead, we occupy alternate time zones
All shapes and sizes, yet behaving in a hive mind
I’m an aloof intruder, detached from their trudge,
the coffee tastes good, much better than my guilt
These people are programmed, I do not begrudge
Still so many go past, inexorably they just won’t stop
With Invisible purpose, that can never be fulfilled,
The collective has left me behind, no I bailed out
Observing my past life, a sham pariah who lost the will
This procession is for me, a paranoid induced outcast
Paid for my coffee, the show was completely free
I’ve had my fill, back into the dreaded shopping mall
Will I be able to blend in, ever try hide a Baobab tree
By
David Kavanagh
I’m a very early riser - the first settler’s
alarm clock you might say-
If you haven’t heard my native name
Wiradjuri guuguubarr- That’s OK
you would know me as a Kookaburra.
You’ll often hear me laughing with my kinsfolk
from treetops to greet the morning
Then at day’s end we bid it a fond goodbye-
with a jovial, raucous chorus.
You could mistake it for human laughter
but it isn’t imitation- we’ve been laughing this way
since the beginning of creation.
I have a diet that will often make people shudder.
I can eat a 3 foot snake and then go looking for another.
I stun it first by dropping it — then whack it on a tree
And then, believe me — I swallow it — carefully.
I blend in well with the bushland
bark brown and dappled shades
You can’t see me in the gumtrees—that is
until my laughter gives me away.
Petals Of Pain
For the rose who once stood tall, bright colourful with petals in her prime.
The attachment of the thorn that settled itself upon her, its true ugliness to be revealed through time.
Lately shes been reminded of why you don’t come near her anymore, your feeling of disgust.
Yet shes expected to wear a mask for you, whilst inside she’s filled with nothing but mistrust.
The clenched arms, lying closed up, back turned to her at night.
She’s been reminded to keep it all to herself, express nothing, for fear you might bite.
With every conflict between you, the one at fault, the bleeding soul, scarring, to blame her will always be.
It’s much easier for you if she remains silent about her feeling’s, to just let things be.
For her the tears continue to flow endlessly, the aching in her heart.
That constant reminder, you both would be better off apart.
With every thorn you’ve pierced into her heart, she has slowly lost her brightness, her colourful sense of self.
She’s now trapped in your water bowl ambiguous to blend in with the rest, for fear of being left on the shelf.
Her now dull exterior proves you prefer anyone or anything other than her at the other side of your phone.
You’ll never know how often you’ve made her feel ignored, confused and all alone.
She yearns inside to be like the rest, to be free, to have her colour back once again.
Instead, this withered rose has yet to be watered and is losing one by one, each of her petals of pain.
Written: August 05, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Flourishing strands of rose-colored mist,
Blend in with the gentle rays of dawn gist.
Silver vapors form around the equine nose,
Glistening bark recalls twilight pine as it froze.
As an argentite with a sapphire-like luster,
Inferno rippled amid a tranquil woodland tusker.
Below the canopy that casts a gloomy shadow,
Icy roads dare to swirl and twirl celestial hallow.
Skies atop mountains capped with snow,
Depicting strong sides and silky locks aglow.
The luminous caramel of dawn after dusk,
Luscious hooves gracefully waltz and husk.
On the clay that is entirely icy and faultless,
Bright-dappled alabaster begins dauntless.
A specter of light and dark, elusive and evasive,
Silent in the thrill of speed, coiled, suasive.
Furiously glints through a gap in the hedge,
Pebbles hit the soil, scatter, and wedge.
The rain fell from above in a stony sleet,
The horse grinds to a stop gracefully fleet.
Conducting an ecological survey,
Perched on her glorious, sun-kissed display.
Favorites cause envy
rumors, lies and hate spread.
Nothing said or done can change minds
blind fury, savage rage brews and overflows
So vicious are the attacks that those themselves
will deny who they are and try to blend in.
Death is the only solution
to eliminate and exterminate
Breed and born to hate those Chosen.
You will die to kill them
sacrifice your children for your cause
Never peace, never acceptance, never surrender
To destroy them is to achieve Paradise
while you exist in the chains of Hell
It's emotional not rational
You think you hate them
but deep inside you understand
you only hate yourself.
Today ruined by yesterday
tomorrows never come.
Live in shadows
fear the Sun
Hate seeps into evil
Never shame
never guilt
never peace...
only death.
When the Chosen Ones are all gone
will there be anything left of you?