Long Bronze Poems
Long Bronze Poems. Below are the most popular long Bronze by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bronze poems by poem length and keyword.
Sunrise
Like an actor waiting for the curtains to part before the scene unfolds,
She waits below the dark horizon for her appointed time to appear.
The shades of pinkish gray, and bronze and a myriad of color combinations on the horizon, betray her attempt to hide from view.
It is as if she is playing peekaboo with the darkness, tantalizing her audience, mesmerizing them with a symphony of colors.
Suddenly she emerges from beneath the horizon, a sliver of a golden orb, revealing a fraction of herself at a time, all the while painting a scene of indescribable beauty on the canvas of the sky above the line where heaven meets earth.
Once she begins this phase of the drama, there is no hesitation. She is like a giant awaken from slumber and ready to run a race.
Soon this blazing orb of burning gases we call the sun, dispels the darkness of predawn and the earth is aglow with her golden beams.
It is God's plan, that you too should rise and shine like the sun, dispelling darkness wherever it's found.
So open your heart and let the Son in, then you like the sun will become His channel of light, to those all around you for whom day is still night.
In my past existence,
circumstance sowed my roots
deep into woods of foreign soil,
slowly I ascended spreading my wings,
yearning to be evergreen,
blossoming in summer with glossy verdant leaves -
I became the soul of the earth.
Yet, I never belonged,
among a promenade of silver skinned pines,
who mocked my rough brown bark.
I was born to flourish in a tropical oasis,
so autumn winds stole my diverse petals.
I stood vulnerable with
bare branches shivering in silence.
Snow fell gently,
as my crumbling core began to rot.
Fate slashed at my anchor like a mad man with an axe,
until I collapsed with my sap bleeding dry.
I was left to slumber in melancholic meadows,
abandoned in murky misty moors.
In death,
I pondered, will anyone miss me in times of;
silence, anger, tears, smiles, laughter and regret?
Although they cannot hear nor see me,
will they still feel me in their hearts?
When they gaze at the night skies.
Will they find me among the stars?
Lost in thought,
yearning stardust and moonlight melodies,
my soul connected with an ethereal spirit,
an aromatic aura I had never felt -
I was finally found.
Her soft lotus touch roused a fluorescent glow.
Our hearts illuminated resembling the golden orb.
As my beloved portrays me in her poetry,
we wander in fields of forever,
commemorating instead of cremating memories.
Her devotion plants a special seed in her bronze orchard,
creating an immortal poetic garden -
where we bloom as flowers in all four seasons.
i paint the world
or maybe the world paints me
mornings blaze awakens me
the blue grey sky sets me on my way
while soft green grass nows turned a deadly brown beneath my toes
i reach the bronze sand of the beach
dropping my burnt orange towel
i walk into mucky waters left by the needed rain
mud settles on my feet tops and i squirm to wash
i decide to sun bath instead turning my fair skin crisp red
then my day is almost over
i walk home under star lit sky
while full white moon shines down upon me
spotlighting my days tan
reaching home into a pitch black house
i go from room to room lighting the way
showering, then heading into a dark bedroom
sleeping into a tired night
into a new morning
Cotton Bootie Enlistment
by Odin Roark
How innocent the booties of birth
If only their cast remembrance
Might remain but nostalgia
Instead
Their bronze symbolism
Merely encases a once simple smile
A semblance of purity
Lost ever so soon
History
Like a voracious virus
Infects this childlike innocence
Creates its own immunity
Thrusting virulent audacity
Minimizing one’s virtuous cotton footwear
Naively seeking only durability
A faux synthetic
Or tanned leather
Yet
The species remains bent to create
The next test-tube imperviousness
Minimizing rugged soles of
Arabian oil based rubber
But yesterday’s chapter
High tech miracles
Deliver
Gripping
Climbing
Running
Advancing
Attacking
Conquering
Foot cover impervious
Yet never forgetting such simple beginnings
Ultimately
The acrid smoke
Merging into our heated global atmosphere
Further heats subjugation's resolve
Only the last chapter of earth’s historical tome remains
Postlude
The vortex of history’s repeated resting places
Where roadside bombs facilitate
Body bags of findable parts
Where calloused bare feet of refugees fleeing
Know only purity never lost
Even Salvation Army’s handout footwear
Good for the tucked fetal position
Beneath homeless cardboard shelters
Remembers the booties of birth
Somewhere along the line
Leaden boots seemingly rendering freedom
Remain beholden to the heel and toe of control
Where dominance patiently waits
Try as we may
Weighty footprints
Foretell the future
From birth to death
Their ponderous reality
Remains often guised
But forever remaining
The ever threatening
Leaden boots of tomorrow’s
Cotton bootie enlistment
Lovely days produce lovely nights
and the sunset that transitions them;
build memories of comfort and embrace
The flowers of the field are adorn with complexion
and fed by God's grace
Like a sunbathe in darkness
my skin glows shades of bronze, orange
gold, and honey tones
I'm entrapped by the wind and the
scent of natural pheremones
creating a balance of universal laws of attraction
and the ultimate attonement to divine reality and satisfaction
Lovely days produce lovely nights
and the sunset that transitions them
build memories of grace and simplicity
The birds in the sky do not toil
They submit to divinity
Like a hungry child trusts its vulnerability to my breasts
Lets discard our anxieties to
the artist of life and live well
It's the biblical solution to stress
Lovely days produce lovely nights
and the sunset that transitions them
build memories of humility and it's essence thereof
When he washed the feet of his followers
he showed us his life mission and how to love
Like when the drums beat, the rhythms take over the soul
you're bound by an exponential force
that is determined to play out it's role
It's a perfect world according to how our thoughts unfold
It's not really that deep
when you have accurate knowledge of the stories told
That-
combined with the faith of his presence to guide us
Leads us to the narrow gate and provides skill
to resist temptations.
Lovely days produce lovely nights
and the transition itself
gives me hope.
Like the autumn weaves warmth
With hope and grace,
Inspirations in temptations of laughing scarlet,
Blazing tangerine and glorious gold,
Soothing away the darkness as beautiful
Casts its shadow over my spirit,
A dream reflecting peace that rouses me to remember
Where there was a choice, reserved for joy,
Light was the sustaining power –
Arriving in my unwritten absence,
When bold flames of passionate bronze
Faded into the summer and reminded me why,
Why I was like the dwindling moon, sliding beneath
Stardust dreams, coloring the night
In ebony history – grimly waning ways,
Soothing away the fog of yesterday and creating
Intimacy in the bonds of laughter and compassion,
The seclusion so liberating, smiling into the moments,
Erasing the black and putting away the smallest tasks
Excusing melancholy and blaming dusk
For its exasperating way of giving in to doubt,
Listening to the enchantress, lunation
Who boldly praises the nocturnal memories,
Roaring and seeking temptations,
So wise and wonderful they cling to the flesh,
Like sweat shimmering and sliding,
Sticking to the moments in an abiding grace –
Is memory so brave as the reflection it gave,
The intimacy between two echoes,
Night and day, yesterday, the past – weaved
Into the present moment, erasing the wistful wish
Who dreams light yet focuses on the night
And remembers only to agree with autumn’s brave kindness,
The memory like a taunting of two thoughts,
One of love and one of sorrow, each with their own fears
Their very own tears and so many trusted years
When everywhere there was light
Poured out on endless stirrings of what it is
To give in to the past and its spirit,
The blessings rising like a mist across the mountains,
The moments when life fades in sterling sands
Visions of kindness when life is truth
And life binds the days with praise,
An aching praise who restores and renews,
Invites the beautiful to breathe
And the sadness to grieve…
This is the past and it’s healing will give hope
To the ones who remember
A clinging ache, meant to break…
Yes, there is victory in the faith who believes
God wins – in the end, GOD WINS!
Gonna pull you off that pedestal
the one I built of
tough oak and ten penny nails
still standing,
deep in my heart.
Never asked for this broken consolation prize
all angels in heaven,
and my sisters, chastise.
Always hoped you'd be okay, important to say,
you've done well,
you chose so well..
in him.
Still smarts, a memory that saw me red-faced,
your lost suitor, lovelorn less or more,
yet you never made fun,
I've always wondered
why.
Still review life like a film, hope ya don't mind..
stuck in rewind,
all these years on..
why'd you ever let me get
so close?
Happy for second place, or maybe third,
this piece of my life, and yours
just to be in a heart's running,
gold, silver, or bronze
was once,
such a lovely race.
Alice is only 17 so put her studies on hold,
Of psychology, English literature and art,
To train for the Rio Paras, hard as she could,
In New Milton, in Collegiate’s school pool.
Born with a club foot, she’s had 14 operations,
Which fused her feet and ankles, 90 degrees,
Because she also has deformed lower legs -
So she was classed as a para-swimmer 2010.
In 2014 Alice competed in the Euro Champs,
In Eindhoven which is in the Netherlands,
Where she won a gold 50m freestyle relay,
A silver in the 100m back, a bronze freestyle.
Then the next year Alice went to the Worlds,
IPC, in Glasgow where she won four medals:
A gold 4x100 medley relay, bronze 100m back,
Bronze fly, and a bronze 4x100m free relay.
So in Rio she achieved much, a great success,
Because she won 4x100 medley relay gold,
Also a bronze for the S10 100m backstroke.
She was born on the 31st January in 1999.
The Heart of the Rising Sun
(In search of the place of the Igbo nation in Africa)
By the banks where the Rivers of Niger interwatered with Benue
Spreading their wild tentacles to the farms and gardens terrain,
Turning this gleams and divides, into food basket state called Benue
In the soil of southeastern terrain,
Lies a nation of millions, where honor resides,
And the roots of antiquity and meritocracy reign.
From the cradle of Ugwuele, timeless and deep,
To the bronze that Igbo-Ukwu cast,
Bordering the ancient People of Igala
They are keepers of secrets the centuries keep,
With a future as vast as their past
Endowed with gifts and ornaments beautiful like the Ugbala
No monarchs or tyrants could capture their soul,
For their freedom was woven in sacred and just law;
By the elders and age-grades, the village made whole,
Protected by Ofo na Ogu and in the councils the ancestors saw.
When the shadow of empire demanded their knee,
The Ekumeku struck through the night,
Aba women rioted to the disgrace of the Empires civilization.
And the women of Aba stood fearless and free,
To reclaim what was theirs by right
They found no monarch to cajole in their vandalization
They are builders of commerce, the engine, the spark,
From the stalls where the markets expand;
Through the bond of entrepreneurs' of
Igba-Boi, they rise from the dark,
Lifting brothers to conquer the land.
In the factories of Nnewi, the engines are spun,
and industrial cities of Aba, businesses run
With a genius no hardship could tame,
For the spirit of Biafra, though tested by gun,
Still burns as an unquenched flame.
From the ink of Achebe, where cultures collide,
To the starlight Adichie has shed,
From the mathematic prowess of Chike Obi
to the pure calculus eloquence of Peter Obi
Their stories travel global on rivers of pride,
By the rhythms of Afrobeats fed.
Though scattered by oceans, their legacy stays
In the diaspora's heartbeat and tongue
The Igbo remain, through the length of their days,
The proud song that Africa has sung.
John is from Manchester but lives in Warrington,
And was born on the 12th of July in the year 1965,
He’s cool at archery, throws a 28.25” at 60lbs, ton,
And he’s righthanded, so he has much drive.
Before he had a hit-and-run on his motorbike,
With a car coming in the opposite direction,
When he was 24, he did sports at work, did like,
And so after amputation he found cricket action.
But he needed a sports wheelchair, and not, full stop,
An old rickety NHS model, so he blazingly phoned,
A wheelchair manufacturer, who gave him a job top,
As a sports wheelchair designer, so he never moaned.
But soon, he was talking about cricket more often,
Than he was playing it, even in his nifty sports chair,
So when he was invited in 1996 into archery’s blossom,
He accepted it to make this his hobby, he for it did care.
John was World Champion in 2005 in romantic Italy,
Then in Beijing in 2008 at the Paralympics he won gold,
Having been awarded the MBE for services to archery,
And then threw his job in to go professional, foretold.
In Germany, Donaueschingen, at the Worlds in 2015,
He shot silver in the mixed team compound open event,
And then he shot bronze in the men’s individual alive,
To join the Rio GB team to make his mark, he’s meant!