Long Bloomed Poems
Long Bloomed Poems. Below are the most popular long Bloomed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bloomed poems by poem length and keyword.
March, 2025
She walked past me today.
Her gaze hollow, her pace a ghost.
I can see crimson threads
weaving down her arms—
not gloves, no.
I think she’s going to the Cliff.
I wonder if she’ll return.
Most never did.
April, 2025
She sat at the bank all day
and stared at my ripples—
It is what I’m proud of the most.
I tried to sing for her,
shame that she can’t hear.
So I cried with her instead,
until her tears dried—
Wish I could stop my streams,
but I’m a sentimental River.
May, 2025
I heard the Cliff complaining—
sea wind scratched his face.
She ran past, breathless—
Chased by what I can’t drown.
Hope she made it home tonight.
June, 2025
Nobody saw her.
A daisy bloomed beside me today.
I’ll keep it fresh for her.
July, 2025
August, 2025
She passed by again.
In that flowy silk dress,
and her eyes shimmer.
She was humming,
with a voice low but heavenly—
Oh, and she found my daisy!
I’ve seen that light before—
She’s going to the Cliff.
If you could see as I in midnight’s hue,
On moon-lit strolls beneath mosaic lace,
And held my hand once more where angels flew
When time was marked by Heaven’s lilac grace;
And if you viewed the garden robins tilled,
Where blossoms bloomed with life to hear their song,
And grew enriched by mist from clouds that spilled
As notes of joyful rain all season long;
And if you climbed the tree of Summer’s bliss -
Freed from guardian maze entangled vines
That now entrap the heart of love’s first kiss -
And then you peered the stars in search of signs:
You’d find aglow what always makes me cry;
You’d see your self-reflection’s lullaby.
2/8/2017
Submitted for: Chimera World
Using these words:
mosaic, maze, moon, guardian, garden,
angel, heaven, heart, midnight, clouds
The seamless sky called life shined with cloudless ecstasy,
as in the rhapsody of zephyr rippling with rhythm of love
floated my butterfly mind with the motif of my heart.
On its wings I painted in colors the lattice of my identity,
for flowers in my valley bloomed in all seasons for you.
The dawning horizon splashed the spectrum of rapture
to blossom the buds of dreams in my craving course to you,
where I flew on the fervent wings of butterfly with my heart.
Virtual euphoria took me to the realm of fathomless fantasy,
your charm entranced me, didn’t perceive what was coming.
Charcoal clouds turned the sky into a slate rampart
that fell with fury when the thunder split the sky.
Sparked by your betrayal I burst asunder in dire dejection,
as my dreams were demolished by the ripping rumble,
releasing the pent-up anguish designed by the ruined time.
The flushing vale turned into rusted wreckage of torment,
the wilted flowers didn’t see the new sun rise with colors.
Torrent of tear drowned the past in the storm surge,
the maimed melody of the broken wings of the butterfly
crashed at the brink of somber horizon along with the thunder.
We enjoyed our walk below the autumn skies
Golden browns bloomed and graced our eyes
Hand in hand, through woods and fields
Marvelling at nature, and in what she yields
Darkness loomed on this late September afternoon
Clouds above massed, in impending monsoon
Slowly the rains fell from the skies
As the clouds opened in plentiful supply
I turned to my girl and she was on her knees
Her summer white dress in see through please
These autumn rains showed a lovely change in her
As she looked to the skies in delightful purr
Her wetted face had a glint in her eyes
As i kneeled before her, and her purr like cries
Our faces met, and our lips greet
In continual excite, repeat repeat
Sodden we are under this cascade of wet
This is one afternoon i will never forget
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-8.php
At first we hid in our human shells,
Frail lanterns flickering in the dark,
A few still slipped through unseen doors,
Wings beating toward a brighter mark.
But soon the skies were sealed with stone,
The stars withdrew their silver keys,
We found ourselves confined to earth,
Like birds in branches without leaves.
Mars once bloomed with rivers clear,
Venus sang in a golden air,
Yet both were broken, hushed by fire,
By hands too old, too proud to care.
So here we dwell on soil and sea,
Prisoners bound by time’s command,
Dreaming of worlds that slipped away,
Ruins buried beneath the sand.
Yet still the blossoms burn with light,
And rain restores the weary ground,
The wind is free though we are not,
It lifts our hearts with airy sound.
For though the stars are far above,
And chains of history bind us fast,
The earth is more than bars and walls—
It offers beauty that can last.
If we must stay, then let us sing,
And love the hour before it dies,
For even prisons hold their grace,
And earth still mirrors paradise.
The ruin of sky called life rested in serenity,
in rippling zephyr floated a butterfly free.
Its tinged wings embossed your identity,
as wilted flowers bloomed again for me.
The horizon splashed hues of ecstasy,
to blossom dreams as I was on course to fly.
Rapture took me to the realm of fantasy,
I didn’t see clouds gathered at edge of ruined sky.
Splintered on the threshold of tarnished twilight,
in deep dismay I found my sky’s ruins lie,
wane with my dreams in storm of morose night.
Wrecked, I was sucked in the stillness of its eye.
The flushed vale turned to pallid wasteland fast,
dry flowers didn’t see the new sun rise in sky,
the surge of my tear drowned the pleasant past,
rinsed colors from the collapsed wings of butterfly.
October 7, 2021
Brian Strand's Contest A Strand (1055)
Her voice, a river, smooth and clear,
A melody that faded every fear.
In music, we found a bond so deep,
That bloomed in time, as love did seep.
In shadows we danced, where nobody could see.
A step behind, yet you noticed me.
The years between us, a quiet doubt,
Would they understand, what love’s about?
The silent moments, where hearts ignite,
The secret spark that burned inside.
What others said didn’t matter then,
For in your heart, I found who I am.
I lived in voices, a cast of disguise,
A chameleon seen through countless eyes.
But you just smiled, saw past the show,
And let me be the one you’d know.
My dear Linda sang a song for me once,
I was young and unsure, just learning to run.
Though time has passed and I’ve grown in years,
Her voice still resonates, sharp and clear.
You walked the earth with soil-stained hands,
A woman sowing life with tender plans,
Did you know your touch could wake in me
A heartbeat trapped in root and seed?
Each morning came with songs you hummed,
Soft sunlit hymns that made me come—
I reached for more than chlorophyll,
A stillborn wish the wind kept still.
Yet I knew the warmth beneath your care,
Your voice—a rain I couldn’t wear...
You'll love me yet, though bound in green,
Though I’m no man and can’t be seen
As more than stem or silken net—
Not quite love, but close... and yet.
You dreamed in verse, I bloomed in ache,
To feel your hands, to forget my fate—
And though I fade, I won’t forget:
You'll love me yet.? Oh... you'll love me yet.
You spoke of songs that never land,
Of lyrics lost like grains of sand,
But every rhyme you dropped near me
Felt like a kiss I couldn’t keep.
You never guessed a bloom could yearn,
That something speechless might still burn—
You reached for gods and starlit grace,
I reached for touch, and found no face.
We asked the sky for different truths,
But time denies what roots can’t prove...
You'll love me yet, when spring is gone,
When every petal's poem is drawn—
You gave me hope, I can't regret:
A flower taught to feel... and yet.
You sang of stars, I craved the ground,
A single name not written down—
Still, in your hands, I once was met:
In silence I thought.. You'll love me yet.
“I water everything,” you said,
Where dreams go still, or go unread—
But I remained, I bloomed, I broke,
A final breath in petaled cloak.?
And in your gaze, a soft "not yet"...
What’s death? You'll love me yet.
You'll love me yet, though I stayed still,
A soul without the voice or will—
And you, the poet, never knew?
The love you grew was breathing, too.
So if you write, then write for me—
The blossom buried silently,?
Who lived to feel, then lost... and yet—
You'll love me yet.
Just a gardener and a bloom unmet...
But you'll love me—
You’ll love me yet.
Splatter painted, Pollock blessed, leggy I stand,
among the green grass and healing Plantain
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
A walking canvas in the meadowland
stems, humorously stippled to entertain
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
Blush brushed by daylight, a cheeky garland;
a stand bloomed within thin skinned constraints
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Pistils between petals unknown unplanned,
joyous the sound of honey bees restrained,
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
A plantigrade intrusion, a new brand
surface mounted digits adorned prearranged
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
So bright the upright parts, so very grand
one can but dream the crown gloriously manned
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Mused: Bella online Literary Review Winter 2015
His ribcage rushed to fill a new birthed space.
The night had been a barrel of dark dreams,
yet despite this other demanding cosmos of himself,
the daylight brought hope.
Riding unhindered by personal perspective
he relaxed as the bus took him
to a world where lovers
wrote themselves into a fantasy
that bloomed into existence once imagined.
Marveling as one silent, yet singing page
turned another, marveling at the land
that flowered with the voices of a redrawn past,
(for all days now were turning perfectly). Almost…
for he now noticed a blot, a small imperfect blot
in the far corner of a blue sky.
At that instant all the riders,
all the watchers, and all the watched
noticed the blemish.
The bus screeched to a halt.
People hurried to get off the vehicle
as if terrified of staying,
and yet terrified of leaving.
His heart thudded deeply.
His ribcage began to shrink
as he found himself rolling
over and over again inside the ribcage
of a dreaming whale.