Long Blooming Poems
Long Blooming Poems. Below are the most popular long Blooming by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blooming poems by poem length and keyword.
life’s a rush,
and i’m in the middle of it.
sixteen—
they call it the flower of youth,
but honestly, i just feel like
my roots pushing through stone,
small, stubborn,
aching for light
in a world too heavy.
the clock runs faster than me.
classes, books, exams,
every note i take feels like
a brick i’m laying
for some future house
i don’t even know the shape of.
my mind is hungry,
i feed it every day.
words, poems, philosophers,
all the questions nobody dares to ask out loud.
i’m trying to make myself
into something solid,
while still soft enough
to feel everything.
sometimes it’s beautiful
the thought that i’m blooming,
that every word i write
is a petal unfolding in silence.
sometimes it’s terrifying,
what if i bloom too late,
or bloom wrong,
or the world never even notices i grew?
and still, i run.
sometimes without knowing
where the finish line is.
but maybe that’s the point,
that life isn’t about the answers,
it’s about the rush,
the blooming,
the daring to grow
while time refuses to slow down.
and maybe, just maybe,
one day i’ll look back
and see that all along
i wasn’t just running—
i was becoming.
In my meadow the scent of spring ripples in air,
I see the dance of patina on dainty petals of daisy,
unfurling with the touch of dawn’s spectrum,
like your hazel eyes out of the trance of dream.
The flowers blossom in chromatic charisma of joy,
look up to the sunburst pallet of the seamless sky,
the essence is suffused with splendorous sparkle,
painting pristine portrait of your of surreal beauty .
As the satin night showers the silver tinsels,
floating in the mystique miasma of moonbeam,
I descry the sparkling sky descend in my garden,
you shine with sapphire hue as sprouting stars.
The celestial charm of golden glow,
pulsates in my heart with enticing rhythm,
that radiates the luring luster of exultation
from the core of fair petals of your floral face.
Pining for the embrace of your radiant purity
I make my yearning an ornate vase,
place a bunch of blooming buds,
that flower you for me as fresh as a daisy.
_____________
July 30, 2022
Contest : Simile
Sposnored by : Hilo Poet
April showers may dampen Dallas Texas torrents glooming deluge on path way
Priceless zooming presence; shrouds blend violets and daisies blooming in May
Rain forecast an encumbered view; stubborn clouds cause distressing delay
Isn’t raining rain you know, it’s raining diamonds vrooming diamond souffle
Look expectantly skyward, your Ray Bans don, for the Solar Eclipse it's today!
To the wilting flower, I give no sympathy,
Nor the blooming of a bud does not interest me.
Nor the stem that gives it birth,
or even its bed, the earth.
No colour scheme captures my eye,
from its beauty, I shall not sigh.
Through all the seasons that we face,
we are one with time and space.
So in my thoughts, I remain aware,
of my consciousness I take care.
Understanding emotions are fleeting,
analyse the flower as part of life's greeting.
Be the river that comes and goes,
divert into outlets as it flows.
Be the desert but not the storms,
watch the oasis as it forms.
Magic Beans come in all sorts of colours and favors,
Some are sour,
some are sweet,
some are the ones you do not eat,
In my bag of magic beans,
Drip your hand in,
see what color you discover,
The colour red,
Will embed thoughts like thread to a sewing machine,
And sometimes instead bring back memories of the dead.
Then green this bean can make you envy appear obscene,
unclean.
This blue bean will help you find your field of view,
which would make you tried and true,
Here if your lucky to get a yellow,
You will appear in fields of blooming daisys of yellow,
where you will meet and say hello to a old fellow,
to bellow in the mellows of yellow,
If your hand drips in deep,
you might just get pink,
Pink will have a affect that will make your lips - sync with another will help you discover your missing other,
Black is a darkness bean,
it can bring on flash backs of your pass,
can make you have an anxiety attack,
will make you wanna fight back all because this bean is black,
This bean is brown,
some might say this bean has the power to break you down,
make you frown,
You be very pleased with the bean of white,
This bean will make you polite,
bring to you, you're guiding light,
even give you second sight,
in its sweetness light,
The transparent bean,
Can make you feel absent like your soul is souring in the sky,
Last we have purple,
This bean can be found to be hurtful,
For it very verbal, for it can affect your internal surface purpose,
for you stand in this universe.
For the magic bean contest held by Linda
written by Davina Browne
25 / 01 / 15
In the spring and summer there is a special place for me to go
A place where I can feel safe, relaxed and my happiness flows
My backyard is my haven with all my decorative whimsical things
I enjoy sitting among my beautiful blooms while the songbirds sing
Antique vintage planters in vibrant colors displayed full of flowers
Whimsical and fun to brighten any gloomy days with showers
Hummingbird feeders are full of fresh nectar and bird feeders full of seed
The squirrels, chipmunks, birds, bees and butterflies have all they need
I enjoy making iced coffee with strong coffee, ice and whipped cream
And sip it while reading, if it’s early, a hot cup of coffee, full of steam
Sometimes I am lucky to spot a visiting hummingbird fluttering by
And watch them stop to sip nectar for a moment until they quickly fly
The squirrels and chipmunks like to chatter about and put on a noisy show
As they run around chattering, shaking their tails and stealing seeds as they go
A Scarlet Tanager appeared in the nearby oak tree for a visit but did not stay long
Sometimes nature brings a gift of a rare bird sighting and with their unique song
The balloon flowers and phlox blooming in vibrant purples and pinks
But soon they will drop and fall as my garden blossoms start to shrink
My time is limited to enjoy my backyard haven during the summer until fall
And I try to spend many weekends out there relaxing and having a ball
Were I to fall asleep this night
rather than toss and turn restless in my efforts
seeking rest and comfort in my sought escape;
what would I say to you, now gone
emptied of my love and life as it slips away?
How often does the memory of days past, rise
as if all were today in place of yesterday
when it was always you and me against the world;
should I dream
daring to recapture what was forever between us?
Yes, I would do it all again,
casual conversations blooming to warm love's embrace
and passionate vows and promises to last a lifetime;
hold me close and tender
let me whisper in your ear, I love you still.
Forever and always
I hold you close
knowing words need not be spoken;
we are forever bound
and should I dream, I dream of you.
Silent One's Last Letter to Love 12/15/18
Me and my good friends
We gather beneath the lantern of my tales,
their faces blooming like poppies in sudden sun—
petals wide, throats bright with laughter,
drinking the nectar of my words
as if they were honey poured only for them.
Still my friends,
When I turn away, the poppies close.
In the dark between gatherings,
their stems twist, thorns unsheathed,
whispering my name into the soil
where it rots into gossip and sour earth.
These good friends,
As stress coils around my ribs like wire;
I reach for help, palms open.
They arrive with bottles, amber rivers
that promise to loosen the knots—
a temporary anesthesia, generous, glittering,
gone by morning, leaving the wire tighter.
To my friends again,
I speak of land, of roots, of something solid
to stand on when the wind turns cruel.
At once they become bridges,
smiling merchants guiding me across
to a seller who shakes my hand
while their hidden margin swells
like a tick beneath the skin of the deal.
They are mirrors polished only on one side:
I see my reflection shining back,
warm and welcomed.
They see me clearly too—
a fountain to drink from,
a field to harvest in secret,
a story to spend
until the teller runs dry.
I tell you I have friends,
Whose faces blossom like rosses,
But have spines beneath petals.
They are sweet cactus fruits
With spines all over them.
Yes, they are green leafy nestles
Reach out to them for itchy sting!
Welcome May you are the best
So glad to see you after winter
You took a twelve month rest
Singing birds are in their nest
Flowers blooming bright colors
Welcome May you are the best
May is from the east to the west
We have both hibernated way too long
You took a twelve month rest
I see the sun coming up off the crest
Beautiful colors to start the day
Welcome May you are the best
We have missed you
Glad you are back
Welcome May you are the best You took a twelve month rest
Date Written: 6/19/2020
A bud blossoms beauty in the prime of spring,
sways as a beguiled ballerina in the amorous air,
enchanted in the middle of the night when the moon sings
for the flower to swing in its refrain with luring flair.
I see in the blooming patina the glimmer of godly grace,
as with boundless joy the butterflies dance.
When the flower folds the pristine petals in midnight hour,
the bunch of butterflies making lilting aerial lattice,
entwined with the sailing sequins of the sonorous moon dust,
flitters in its cadence searching for the floral fragrance.
I see heavenly beauty in the scene sublime,
as with everlasting exuberance the butterflies dance.
When the rippling wind sings the moonshine melody,
sparkling lines of sliver lace dulcet design in drifting cloud,
reflected subtly in the mesmeric motif of the butterfly wings,
fluttering in the tempting tune of the mystique moon song.
I see in the midnight hour the image of bliss in the divine glow,
as with rapturous rhythm the butterflies dance.