Long Breads Poems
Long Breads Poems. Below are the most popular long Breads by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Breads poems by poem length and keyword.
World of you in me, many trips in bits
All comes alive, with memories untied
Linked with pops and hops so nice
Embellished with red, white and blue
All other colors tinged in spice
Your love I dreamed in life, not dried
Above this world, words of you never dried
Over dust and snow, linger in bits
Penchant views you oil and hold with spice
Poetry like life, inspire and refresh untied
Open and wide, expressing yourself, not blue
Far and wide, eyes of you I yen so nice
Your simple words travel really nice
Within trees, your air I breathe over mountains, not dried
Words that captured my heart, my soul drifting on sea blue
Thoughts of you imbue, scatter in glittering bits
Mirage of you I dear, your knot untied
Time with you, I longed for, I crave with spice
Never before I felt like this, oiled with spice
Like fabled raisins under the sun, you grow so nice
Sweetness of you I savor, your vines untied
Smooth vines of you, over my skin never dried
From grapes sun-dried, in my heart age and sprout in bits
Painting my face purple, red or green, never blue
You colored my world so dynamic, not blue
Your face I see everywhere without frantic, only with spice
How I wish you stay with me in whole, not bits
Me, like popcorn, popping everywhere yellow and nice
Your voice hum and echoes over hills and placid waters, not dried
Shadows of you clasping me, all of me untied
Freed like a bird, my heart and soul untied
Your breath in me, my heart always red, not blue
My well for you overflows and sits, never dried
Like buns of breads, sprinkled with spice
It's always you I long for to see so nice
Wishing you come alive as whole, not bits
Your morning sun rises with me, happiness untied
Sunshine that brings life, all colors over blue
Your love I desire and long for, full not bits
All of me in you, heart drilled in bits
Your name I adore, keeping me full and all nice
Your world in me, I'll die for with spice
Baldur’s goal was to grow up and become a warrior for the Hrungnir
He was careful what he put inside his body to be ready and pure.
His mother was amazed he could push breads and sweets away.
Young Baldur knew his final ultimate destination back in the day.
Since childhood he had dreamed of conquering the enemy divine.
I know this, for Baldur’s tale has been shared by relatives of mine.
Baldur had a direct line to Odin, god of German paganism since a child.
He grew up to be a fierce competitor, sculpted, muscled, not at all mild.
He is a strapping young man, others marveled, giving him room.
He was not interested in any other occupation or being a groom.
Baldur’s sole focus was on extinguishing the enemy in any way.
He wore the valknut symbol proudly, and headed toward the fray.
Make room at the front, the other warriors said when he appeared.
Many were totally intimidated, but others celebrated and cheered.
They instinctively knew that Baldur would give them a victory.
He was the best warrior they had ever seen, groomed at Odin’s knee.
For forty years Baldur led his king’s troops to victory each time.
His battle scars were many when he retired his sword at fifty-nine.
He had done Odin proud, but now he had a different dream.
It was time to return to Odin, the Allfather, Asgard’s stronghold king.
WALKING THE AUTUMN PATH
Cracklings
under my feet
breathing fragrant leafage
of reds and golds, brown twigs of trees-
fallen.
Juicy
succulent pears,
big-bright orange pumpkins
fill crates in the grocery store-
displayed.
Fresh-baked
breads, apple pies
flirting sweet to my nose,
I hastily run: tasting all,
I burp!
Cool,crisp
air kissed our cheeks
as we sit close outside
steady gazing the evening sky:
moon, stars...
_______________________________________________________
CONTEST NAME: AUTUMN STROLL CINQUAIN FORM
Contest Sponsor: Eve Roper
~~2nd place~~
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
5:24 pm, October 22, 2015
CORNUCOPIA
Let's eat sweets complete
Thanksgiving pies, yum! fruits, nuts, cakes
Unloose belts eats, more. . . .
S-some
W-watch
E-everyone full
E-everywhere-
T-talks
P-people
O-ordinary
T-truly
A-angry
T-towards
O-oppositions
P-principles
I-ingesting all edibles
E-everything
As I rise from the table
I enable
Myself I stretch and scratch and yawn
Think I ate too much food, (sleepy now)
This cornucopia is a horrible disease
Makes me over eat and sneeze
All manner of improper eating we be
Eating the fat of the chicken and lamb
Every holiday seasons
The turkey and ham
Full of sodium gravy
Cornbread, rye breads and maybe
My stomach won't hurt
If I didn't over eat so much, meats and sweets
And my throat won't choke
by the fine bones of the turkey
And every holiday, it's the same old thing
I eat, I eat, eat just over eat
Man Oh! man love me them sweets
Thanksgiving a turkey, Christmas a turkey
It beginning to think that God is a turkey
The way we eat this foul
But I wouldn't blaspheme His name now
Could someone pass me the string beans
This cornucopia sickness here again
I've gain 15 pounds just sitting here
10/31/17
FOR CONTEST: CORNUCOPIA
Sponsored by: Kim Rodeheaver
Form:
Have you tasted the delicious torment of oysters
Let your foccacia bread drip with soft green salted olive oil
Do you know the love of Sushi
and boldly face the wild winds of wasabi
The tellers of the tales...these
unbridaled ocean gifts
smashing against the rocks
and found deep in the white and black sands
of beaches I have laid apon
These... the oils of Solomon that drip like mir from lovers hands
those that touch and those that are forced to say goodbye
Here, find them here, in your breads and oils
Taste the memory of what it is, what it was, to love
Find it there, just there, in that flash of purity
as the oyster hits the back of your throat
There... yes, there
when the wasabi flings open your passageways
and you breathe for the first time in your life
Here, yes, here I am
in all of these
as you will always be for me
hidden in tree moss
beneath enormous boulders so strong and large I find I must believe
in miracles
in the wind that catches in my sail
in you and perhaps
in time- even in me.
Interesting as it sounds
It's not to be missed
Mesmerized by the seed that breads his name
As spears would be raised up high
Tradition would be at the tip of the tongue
It's an event that had been anticipated
Unfortunately only the few can attend
No assumptions needed,only the blankets
As some might say he is coming home
Little did the know,that he is here
He is always been here
Let me ride this one out
I am talking about a man of elegance
A man who is intelligent yet uneducated
I am talking about a man of sophistication
A man who is confident yet humble
I am talking about a man who is disciplined
A man with endless love and when you are loved by him,you should therefore count your blessings
Is this pot of mine getting warmer
Can you feel the warmth
I have been waiting
Break those relationships that are holding you back
As they are not worth it
The warmth never leaves the pot
Break that mindset that says you cannot be
As you perfectly know,you are capable of being anything you want to be
Let me amuse myself a bit
You are born to be anything,you want to be
Show yourself
Let me gather my stuff
You are the seed that breads my name
Show the whole world who you are
Let me indulge myself a little
As the love that has been given is the love that should be received
Grace is a free gift
That cover up all drifts
Even in its own shift
It troubles logical thefts
Truly, in problems, it seems there is no grace
Or you think many are out of space
May be its remains are of trace
Meant for those who set the pace
Working grace is for all
Just that many don't listen to its call
And leads it astray to their downfall
Yet, aligned beings get to stand tall
Someone paid for it
To let go of us- punishment
Our troubles and s
Laid down as the sheep for atonement
He died for our sakes
Without complaining of aches
Yet, for us; wines and breads, he bakes
And our destined home, he makes
The war refuses the head, below wasting in dead
Rearing the front as storms fell the timbers rot
Upheavals breast, shorn and filled in neglect
Lay useless she had cried, allow dimple and deny
Tis only folly we are joined from, seasons blurry
Contemptuous fury, theatrical brevity, lifeless
Burning misery, hasn’t all gone and come
Just so fiddle and spun, as garnish and lathe
Without soured breads fortune, and curled ears late
Forever they attend, a hearts creative bend
And rule they must, alas at lose in unbreakable crust
He in hand created this land, in tales of ferried rows
Gentled slave we musn’t hate, crucible’s labors as knave
In there buildings, craving and fighting, loud and obscene
Fruitful as flies, multiplying night skies
Crying babes of violence, unruly and brutal
Off again we should shout as they, steam filled hovels in suet
WHO ARE THESE AMBITOUS MEN
WHO STAND BEFORE ME
ARE THEE THE SAMETHAT TAKES
BARLEY FROM THE FEILDS
AND STORES IT IN THE CAVES
MIGHT THE MEN OF THE FEILDS
SHAVE YOUR BEARDS
TO SHOW YOUR FACES
OR SHALL THE WOMAN
OF EVENING
CAUSE YOU ILL
TO HAVE TRACK OF WHO
YOU'VE BEEN WITH
DO YOUR COUSINS IN FAR AND DISTANT LANDS
UNDERSTAND OUR WAYS
THAT YOU MIGHT SEND TO THEM
THE BARLEY OF OUR FIELDS
TO BRIGHTEN UP THEIR DAYS
DO PEOPLE EAT THE BREADS
FROM OUR BARLEY ON DISTANT
SHORES
SHALL I SEND MEMOS TO
DIFFERENT PLACES
SINCE YOU SEEM TO IGNORE ME
SPEAK THAT I MIGHT
HEAR YOUR LIES
STORIED TO A PERFECT DETAIL
WHERE ARE THE GRAINS FROM MY FIELDS
HAVE YOUR SATANIC PLOTS
PREVAILED
WHO'S SHIPS ARE HARBORED
TO RECEIVE GIFT OF THESE GRAINS
THEN THE CAPTAINS AND THESE SAILORS
CHORE TO DELIVER
THESE IMPORTANT THINGS
I SPEAK YE AS KING
ANSWER MIGHT
I THEN KNOW
SAY TO ME WHAT I ASK
THEN MAYBE I'LL LET YOU KNOW
the last tram passes away
the boy
who is the owner of every parted-kite
sits lonely on the empty bench of the park
and makes it enlightened
in one pocket
he has few pieces of dry breads
in another
the air to play on bamboo-flute
the night is filled with
mushroom
all the shout within the dialogues
gradually becomes weak
and vanishes
there is no tangle in the
hair
the bier of the hindu-satkar-samiti
runs away
causing a quake in the locality
some needles
small medium and big
are doing their morning-walk
on the thread-line
that is the secret of a phoenix