Long Bows Poems
Long Bows Poems. Below are the most popular long Bows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bows poems by poem length and keyword.
The silence, deafening
As the roar of steel
Came crashing down
Passing dimensions
Colors exploding
The day music came
....without sound
Lies,deception, delusion
All led to one conclusion
We are NOT alone
Laborers rewarded
Slackers thwarted
On the day mind
....encountered throne
It's in the knee
Humanity has been taught
That bows and bends
To fearful thought
Yet the heart, stands
Erect, and fully rejects
That LOVE has His elect
Who were bought
...with a price
Muddled, it's muddled
There's supposed to be a line
Where those who go
Are in judgement of those...left behind
...yet we are here
...all here
...The GREAT DAY
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-08-2022
The Kundalini Is Rising, now I'm Flying High on Wings Of Wisdom
Full Power Up On The Chrism,
Ever-Upward in Fully Blazoned Life
Fear No Evil, Fear The Regal Like....
I AM Spirit, I AM Alive
I AM Soul Divinus, One with the Sacred Fire
Deathless by the Knowledge, Breathless by the Flight
Wielding Staffs and Grails of Light,
One and Beyond I AM Eternal
Boundless by The Force, Boundless, Supernal
Slinging Mights Of Courage, Stone Bold like David
Never Jaded, Wielding Long Bows like Hayk Nahapet
Solar Gleamin like a Scion of the Great Spirit
The Vibes Jive On Exquisite,
Legend Born by the Alchemy
Chasing Diadems for the Masterpiece,
Full Ascent Into the Heart Of Israel
The Land Of Milk and Honey and Citadels,
Ever-Luminous, The Sacred is Rising
Ever-Thriving,
Abode the Heavens, The Stars Align
Seven Doors To Paradise
I hope it isn't asking for too much
When I envision a dream date
In the form of a romantic dinner
With a well behaved chap,
Who will be able to respect me;
From the facets that make me up
To the flaws that decorate my personality;
And who will not be bent up
On seeking in me, a girl his mother
Wishes me to be!
I hope it isn't asking for too much
To be holding hands and gazing at the stars
With someone who will be able to love me
For who I am just as I will be loving him
For who he is without changing anything in him!
Yet, he will have to be someone who will be
Ready to follow me from time to time
In those areas which I would know best
And even understand my apprehensions
If I sometimes refuse to follow him
And do things his way!
The most important part of it
Would have to be that my dream date
Accepts, acknowledges and even bows down
To the fact that I am a maiden completely lost
In love with my God and that He remains the one
Destination to which I am headed to after my death
Even if my dream date will be giving me a side
In this frivolous world!
I hope my dream date does not remain a mere whim,
A fantasy, a figment of the imagination,
But it is said that every shoe must be paired
With another,
So I try to enjoy hopping meanwhile
While waiting for my pair to be able to start walking!
Santa “Claws”
it was bitterly cold
the tree lot that night
as I loaded our tree
tied it up really tight
drove through wet streets
the windblown fresh flurries
past the slow moving cars
in this season that hurries
pulled into the driveway
to the family’s applause
a much muted version
of that for the “Clause”
Carried the tree in
cut all the twine
stood it up straight
to let it unwind
mixed up a warming
egg nog with some rum
never expecting
what was to come
A shreik and a scurry
a “Dad – Come here Quick!!”
it seemed that the tree’d
played a horrible trick
something was moving
emitting low growl
each time it moved
the children would howl
seems that the heat
the light of our home
awakened the beast
caused it to moan
climbed amid branches
sticky thick sap
upset we had woke it
from its cold winter’s nap
and so there we waited
with baskets and net
and towels in case
it came out all wet
As slowly the growl
softened to a mew
two eyes peeking out
on surroundings quite new
The children all gasped
as it fell from the tree
rolled in a ball
out on to the floor
sprang to its feet
took off in a blur
jumped into the box
with the bulbs and the tinsel
bellowed the song
a high pitched old minstrel
tangled in wires
covered in bows
two greenish eyes
one little pink nose
four little paws
in a “What the heck” pose.
So shake out your trees
for this story is written
of how we brought home
our first Christmas Kitten.
11/13/2015
submitted to – Cats and Christmas Trees – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Mary Oliver Rotman
Nebulous streams, clouding my brain
hoping my thoughts will fall like rain.
Thunder and lightning mix the brew
stirring the words soon to break thru.
Pressure builds up, clouds turn dark gray
swirling and twirling, find their way,
freeing the weight of thoughts that flow
down from the clouds to grow below.
Falling to weave creative streams
nourishing thoughts into word dreams,
forming soon a landscape divine...
rainbow of poems that are mine.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: What Was I Thinking?
Sponsor: Daniel Turner
Rules: Choose one line from sponsor's poem below
and write a poem. I chose his first line.
Judged: 12/19/2016
Between The Lines, by Daniel Turner
Nebulous streams, clouding my brain
Vapor trail dreams, from paper airplanes
Cherry red glow, watch with no chain
Ribbons and bows, tied to the flames
Anchors on strings, hanging from sails
Bells that don't ring, throw down the pail
Falling through cracks, greased by the sale
Hearts made of wax, sent through the mail
Waterfall wishes on stars with no swings
Broken blue dishes stuck to the king
Photos with glitches on invisible wings
Temptation itches on all living things
The fog lay muffling the greenery gray.
Weighing down the atmosphere, sentient sorrowing,
with the benevolent masking intent
of Gaia’s heart.
Dampening, the forceful sound;
the torrent of the Mothers tears;
battering only the granite walls of her womb.
The indistinct tone hid a multiplicity of sin
both visual and auditory, keening.
The cloak covered a miasma
of valley-trapped pollution,
engulfing the optical plane;
creating a haven of rampant peacefulness.
Life immersed in the cleansing, the sorrow, the joy
of the universal gift bows in adulation
of the effluent and affluent beauty
absorbing the storms C tonal ring.
Rumbling in my mind
The song of Arleen Hurtado
Trying to get into a Spanish mood
As I gaze at the flamingo dancer,
Dressed in black flaming wide dress.
Hear her castanets, clicking in rhythm
To the background of classical guitars
And the occasional shouts of Ole`.
Yes I can see her, steel soled shoes
Tapping on sturdy wood. She twirls,
Her dress inflated in a sensual dance,
Until she enters in a tocatta festiva.
Silently she taps as she lifts her dress,
Slowly revealing her beautiful legs,
And down again to recommence her twirl.
The audience go mad in applause.
She merely bows and retires to her room.
I’m there waiting for her.
the random residue of sunken shadows
retrieves an image of the light gone by
an effigy ashen faced and smouldering
glows tenderly upon the silhouette of time
yet another curve ball of molten assertion
distorts impressions on the transient mold
pinnacles opine to differ from ground zero
tapestries’ memories fragment figments
of imagination attempt to reassemble
the waning half-moon of false composure
serrated edges compress to bursting point
the vigil at closed gates of no return
defended by cross bows skulls targets
missed opportunities and flightless arrows
in anticipation of another haunted day
when sleep refrains from comfort
night stallions call for spurs and whip
a rodeo of mental injuries displays
with comfortless numbed precipitation
the viscous sweat of solutions out of reign
yet she gathers remnants of an outline
a contour of sanity clothed in disguise
puts another log on her ice-cold fire
sheds a frozen tear on course to exposition
grasps a tinder olive branch of feeble hope
decides to die at last and wishes to forget
01st August 2021
He neared the crest of the mountain and shouldered his bows and his arrows
They were heavy and laden with lead at times right were the feathers should be
Cap in one hand imprinted with ‘Just do it’ he approached all rapprochement
Trainers fastened on shoe strings of bewilderment the marks man held firm
Spread his legs for firm rooting and visualized wings prepared for the range
It was a fine day calm and serene the heat had cooled and the breeze had abated
Once firm in position he steadied his breathing prepared for the imminent task
The shafts were marked Past some Present or Future unbeknown which was what
They had been carefully labelled with memories contemplation and dreams
‘Let’s start wayward farer’ the shooter followed the first arrow with vigour
It landed far off the target in a wheelbarrow positioned to collect the spears
Practice may not make perfect in one straight line and the sportsman proceeded
Veered to the left and the right overshooting and crashing away from his aim
The competition was only against himself and his own aberrations and failure
Taught him about life nowhere close to bull’s eye and he got better at trying
He bowed to imaginary audiences gathered his gear and discarded his pride
Imperfection is a useful life coach and it improves resilience as an aim in itself
Brings patience and mindfulness and opens eyes away from constricting circles
05th March 2019
I will watch the sunrise and the moon set
I will taste oysters and reap mint
I will harvest vegetables from the farm stand
I will live as an orphan adopted
finding joy in rain and in snow
I will walk on many often peat-ed paths
my paths are dune bound
and stretch to a salted dark pea green sea
The songs of gulls and osprey decorate the sky
inner ear re-peating long after they are flown
I tiptoe where the plovers nest
challenges come
seem insurmountable
and then flow away ....on the trivial tides
My heart is broken today
Tomorrow
I will learn to worry only when asleep
I will ask humbly
for acceptance of the hard and cold .......like those 4 nails
embrace the bloom...but adore the fall
When the sun sets early
I will adjust my internal organs
wooing them
I will rejoice more having understood darkness's seasonal game
So when spring next year kisses me full on my pale waning lips
driving me closer to the close of my life
I remember that you loved me
I will remember that I loved you
I will not argue that we are not together
I will not rage against the almighty machine behind
the soft flowing velvet curtain
I will not ask
why I can't have everything I want!
Before
beautiful heartbreak was dark chocolate's
burning bitterness
fraught with the bows and ties
flaming storms of mental confusion and conflagrations of desire
I no longer hold onto loss
You will die and there's nothing I can do about it
I will keep walking down these -bike tire and flip flop rutted paths
scanning the horizon for boardwalks ...that stretch out into the sea
What a gift it is to walk out deep past the cresting wave breaks
Without fear
Without sorrow
Without regret
Trusting the current to take me gently... insistently into the bliss