Long Blue Poems
Long Blue Poems. Below are the most popular long Blue by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blue poems by poem length and keyword.
N-ever let the sun go down
O-n your bright birthdate;
V-ile weather will not come,
I-n early November
E-ighth.
J-ust don't let the sun go down
U-nderneath the blue sky;
A-nother day is shining,
R-ays are red up high.
I-n the sweet lovely morn, new dawn breaks with gleam;
O-nce it shows the beacon, it shares your sweet dream.
C-rimson sun won't go down
O-n your day of birth;
M-orning's smiling face
I-s bringing a million mirth.
S-unshine won't go down, as it rises toward the zenith;
O-nly when the raindrops fall, both of them won't meet.
T-he sun won't go down,
A-fter the dawn has broken;
P-ure delight fills your heart,
D-ark has no place in heaven.
A-s you brave the horizon,
S-tand strong on your ground;
A-llow the flame to burn,
N-ever let the sun go down.
No sooner do we get slapped on our bum
When it's time to pass through the gates
You know the ones, those real famous portals
Tell everybody you're gonna be late
Tell 'em please don't wait up, my friends
Got important business to tend to
Taking a very long trip and can't be reached
Unless we go together, me and you
A glorious trip above with all expenses paid
Stopping at times along the way
To look at the glorious blue green spectacle
Admiring the lush land we survey
We'll be more grateful seeing it from afar
Realize life was a pretty good deal
It's way ahead of whatever comes second
Though at times it's a bit surreal
Would have been nice to go around twice
Let me take a second to reconsider
When all's said and done, 'twas damn fabulous
Though we had to cross raging rivers
But as life goes flying by in a dizzying blur
Singing happy songs as we sail
Reaching the end of our amazing journey
We'll stay in touch by celestial email
With our pen we speak,
Not that our voice is raised to the peak.
The ink outpoured by Pengicians
Appears like rays of stars in the bans of magicians
Who brought the pen to the earth
With which the men have grained and breathe
The lower ones are great at lens
Crawled before but now slate the fence
The cap of knowledge from which intellectuals tap
Flowing endlessly as it crawls around with gap
The papers obey her rule
Heeding to every drop if the blue
I blaze and graze
when I smell the grains it creates
My pen my pen
Oh! I bow in the midst if flames,
I love my pen
I love my pen
In the midst of men,
Oh I raise my pen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rabbit paused mid-hop—quite stunned~
(A most peculiar sight!)
for scattered ‘cross the dewy grass,
like misplaced stars at night,
were eggs of blue, pink, and yellow,
some striped, some with polka dots
all polished, round, and bright.
She twitched her nose. "Now who," she mused,
“Left dinner out all night?”
One nibble… then a crunch! (Oh dear.)
A rather crunchy bite.
With ears aflop, she sighed, "Well then~
These rocks are not done right."
And so she hopped away, slightly miffed,
to find only one dandelion.
(The moral? Life is strange.
Some breakfasts—purely plastic~
are best admired from far away…
How I long for your GOLD locks to frolic in the breeze,
And to flow to and fro, endlessly trying to me tease,
And your incredible, smooth, transparent COMPLEXION
Rosy from the glow of an ETERNAL blue HEAVEN,
Home of our God Almighty, our Saviour and even
Angels, rivers that flow through the flaxen filled fields,
A LEASE between them of unspeakable treasures,
Unthinkable, unbelievable, immeasurable pleasures
That own nature, and nurture POSSESION of TEMPERATE
Rose hedges UNTRIMMED, growing wild, soaking up sun
Not looking for SHADE, BUDS that flower, comparable to none,
How much longer, my lips to linger on yours forever!
A SUMMER’S DAY REDO POETRY CONTEST.
SPONSORED BY MICHELLLE FAULKNER
03.08.2019
I did not know how silly I could be about a computer game
Until I discovered Word Chum\ – which is the actual name
Your chum can be purple, red, blue, orange or silver too
He or she can look like an angel, a cat, or a weird kind of shrew
All it takes is money, and you can dress your Chum out well
I have spent hundreds of real dollars on this, I guess I am ill
The object of the game is like scrabble, with insightful strategies
You can throw in your tiles and get new ones, but it takes more than please
You have to spend real money to get the Word Chum coins you see
I do not mind, because there are several really intricate “strategies”.
You can keep some tile, and throw in others, or you can ask for a hint.
There is a method to my madness, as a gamer I am no skin-flint.
I have spent hundreds of dollars, and I do not mind at all.
I have had best game of the week for nine years running as of this fall.
Competitive? You bet, but I did not know it until I discovered this game.
Call me Intense Type A champion; I will never be the same.
A bird that dips and wavers
Over lone waters round,
Then with a cry that quavers
Is gone—a spectral sound.
— Cale Young Rice
Sopping wet, the organ floats,
flounders in one of several boats,
severed from the blue-green sea,
nevermore to scurry into the lee.
Hearty laughs, ebb and flow, on wind
oblivious to a malevolent whirlwind.
Cupid’s arrow, a bullseye contortion,
took from mate, a violent proportion.
The dawn had beat its forewarning,
hungry reds and yellows of morning.
His wild-eyed grin at heart’s wild pulse,
in his manhandle, a violent repulse.
Sin does course through shattered veins,
but in its course of port and starboard brains,
he doesn’t reflect upon the seagull’s call,
nor see the whirlpool snare mixed with gall.
The salty-scent of frangipani burns the hairs
inside his flaring nostrils. A curt whisper, dares
an invitation to Davy Jones locker, with sore siren
exhalation, the iceberg chill of Cale Young Rice.
Her bloody valentine feels the squeeze, not with
torn flesh, but a spectre’s hand with calamitous pith
inside his chamber walls ; sans lee. Sharks
circling, inhaling the scent of brute; wave arcs
all about this fanfare, with the strumpet’s reprisal.
All her shipmate’s innards fight for his survival.
In his case, Cupid’s arrows sting like a frozen sea.
The ghostly wisp enjoys the massage-latchkey,
slowly intensifying, as his loins had torn her apart.
She has a heart; she had a heart; boat’s sweetheart
of flowing ringlets, tossed to and fro, sinking
where she thought she’d found love, blinking
back an ocean of tumultuous tears, afraid, broken.
The sea accepted a plea bargain, with him as a token.
She’d live from ship to ship, shining with brilliance,
protecting, like a lighthouse - a harbor’s resilience.
Back on deck, he’s tossed overboard; Cupid decides.
Into seaweed of sharks, who prolong eating, he slides.
It will rain today and NEPA will seize the light
The firmament is dark, the cloud is enormous
The singing birds have fled
Everyone to its home
It will rain today, I’m worried
I have neither roof enough for storage
Nor grow fins to swim
My Bedchamber a harbour
for the looming flood
It will rain and flood everywhere
Motors will be trapped in the traffic,
Passengers will trek miles in group
And pedestrians will muddle the streets
It will rain today and farm road slippery
I will be drenched by the spit of the over drunk bushes,
Work in cassava plantation boring,
And father wont take no for answer
It will rain today and plants would rejoice
Happy plants will feed and feed mankind
Animals will eat and give us living
For it rains to bless mankind
It will rain; it will rain
The horrifying black sky scares me
A fair blue sky turns suddenly foul!
A calm refreshing breeze turns swiftly wild!
It will rain; look up the scaring skies
I wish you're the obedient Noah
Under the heavy cloud of the great flood
Who heeded the warning of the looming danger.
Blue skies
No fluffy clouds
Fond sighs
Mellow not loud
By and by
Such mystic sighs
A sure cry
Leaps high from high
Rhymes brief
Sheer paradox
Old grief
Out-of-the-box
Line by line
Words now encrypt
Feelings brine
Thoughts to decrypt
Sense feel
Unplug the gaps
Work bills
Query mind map
Cry floods cry
Mind magnet stretch
High seeds sigh
Sly words to match
Plant seeds
Let ideas bloom
Feed need
Urge and surge groom
Dark night
Shadows verge here
No light
Insidious spheres
Dance deep daze
Waltz between sneeze
In foul craze
Sour scented squeeze
Haze comes
Ugly taste stalls
Straight sums
Flair flavours gall
Leon Enriquez
16 May 2017
Singapore
The dark sea heaves, the bright sea sighs,
Swells cup boats in a ballad’s swing,
Or drown birds when they skyward rise.
Always their roars and murmurs ring,
And their echoes to seashells cling.
Timeless tides do tirelessly sound
A castaway’s lonesome refrain
No other hears for miles around.
Whale song in fathomless depths hides,
A soft hymn to a blue domain,
With bright greetings in bass disguise.
To this serenade dolphins bring
Voices gifted to pierce and sing,
Trilling notes for the seabed bound,
A dirge for shipwrecks deeply lain
No other hears for miles around.
Above, a stealthy whaler glides,
On the music is fury trained
That with Poseidon’s tantrum vies.
Into the blue thunder bolts rain,
On white foam leave a crimson stain,
Marking a new burial ground,
And song turns into cries of pain
No other hears for miles around.
Into the air flying fish wing,
Confetti of fright often found,
Fleeing whales’ wails so ghostly faint,
No other hears for miles around.