Long Budding Poems
Long Budding Poems. Below are the most popular long Budding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Budding poems by poem length and keyword.
Take Me There
Take me to the place where it’s broadly known
In meadows and woods famous poets roamed
Where hosts of blithe yellow daffodils dance
In expectation of budding romance.
To view magnificent mountains and lakes
And spectacular countryside landscapes
In hopefulness that it all will inspire
My muse to explode alike a drumfire.
The Lake District I will visit one day
There’s so much to view and do on a stay
Such serenity and astounding grace
Is found in Cumbria’s stunning showplace.
*+*+*
9th January 2023
Take Me There Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
Coruscating gravitas
imbibed algebraic
cerebral tranches
to spark
alacrity defiant
material manducation
deployed tangibly
phlegmatic
whilst
begetting manifest
miraculous meteoric
innovative impulses
when
penetrating bailiwicks
of tongue-contortion
cerebrum
eidetic retention
straddling juncture’s
poised gateway
as
baton weaving
catalyst triumphant
for
pumped ensemble
virtuoso visionaries
who
taproot trajectories
cocoon emerging
brainchild unfettered
obsessing
magazine mandarins
artistic
archetypal Monet
lavish lavender
lily pond
with
balsamic brushstrokes
galvanising
similar maven
budding Einsteins
blazing trails
of
original contrivance
boosting beneficial
health domain
of
wellspring weal
integrating impactful
slants
gearshift gargantuan
narcissistic nadir
repetitive
regurgitations rampant
abjured by
polymath prodigious
whose
appalachian peak
of antecedents
an avalanche
tintinnabulation
enunciated showpiece
heralds harvesting
gilt-edged prodigy
in fields
belletrist
nimble-fingered
experiential
Ashen was the sky
That rejected hand of sunrise
Sullen was the heart
That stumbled in affection,
Incapable of lauding
Ruby blush of budding rose
And pink passions on horizon
Defying darkened woes.
In midst of a vibrant spring
Her garden blooms curled up
Amid hostile dry weather,
Teared-up, she sat alone
In pathos of indignation
Refusing to surrender
To demands of mendacity.
Crepuscular obscurity
Betrayed her evening
Fashioning night’s reverie
In trickery of nightmares,
As rancor of disillusionment
In ambivalent outrage
Recognized your stygian echoes.
Dead are her feelings now
Stilled in darkened cemetery
In graveyard of misdeeds,
Where spent emotions
Lamenting shattered love
Inscribe finality on tombstone
In epitaph of silent screams
Expounding your infidelity.
Oh, harbingers of cold hands,
Architects of pale shelter,
Glittering shiny metals
Disguising as genuine jewels,
Fear the cry of her angst
Howling soul forsaken
For she holds you in contempt
Of ancient Agape love
And monument to beloved--
The wondrous Taj Mahal.
November 15, 2019
Placed 1st: Pale shelter contest; Sponsor: John Hamilton
Placed 2nd: Strand special 11 by Brian Strand
Winter's exit saw a smile on my green tree
Tiny leaves budding on barren branches
Where a sparrow posed in white cheeks
Donning on gray neck a broad black bib,
The sparrow did speak with its tiny beak
A song of chirps sounding romantic lyrics
Facing a purple tree's flowery boutique
Where a female danced to chirpy music,
Female being adorned in brownish attire
Looked to the male in glimpses and glare
Showing of its tree's purple white blooms
Flapping wings to fly, but going nowhere.
Putting on charm, male bounced around
Circling the female, displaying warmth
When suddenly they flew, as if by a plan
Chatter they beheld, hard to understand.
Blooming resolutely, green tree swings
Crowning white blossoms on tiny twigs
On branches that host a tidy grassy nest
Inside of which rest grayish white eggs.
May 7, 2018
If today is Friday, joy's on stage
Emerging from feeble phase
Roaming happily all day
For a freedom filled weekend
When family reigns supreme
Seeking relief from drudgery.
If today is Friday, thrill's on horizon
Determined to have fun
Showing off a budding date
Conversing in crowded settings
With evening made of dreams,
Stealing kisses with every sip.
If today is Friday, all is worry free
With vibes made of pleasantries
And eyes searching happy places
Finding ephemeral feelings
Ringing inner bells, saying all is well.
If today is Friday, it writes own lyrics
In special themes of merry verses
Composing fervent music
Of romantic rhythm and melodies
Fending off pensive memories.
If today is Friday, opulent smiles
Dance the night till day break
Cheering newfound friendships
Looking forward to next weekend
Holding treasures gained
Reminiscing transitory moments.
February 25, 2018
Friday feeling contest by Silent One
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
Spring breathes out gracious power of grand birth
wrought vibrantly by life’s Almighty source
to bring refreshing peace with hopeful mirth
like blooming flowers, wafting divine force.
Spring’s beauty oozes with creation glow
as sprouting plants expose budding delight
chirping birds praise God midst symphonic flow
soaring in their flight toward freedom height.
Spring’s brilliance does inspire artists indeed
moving painters, poets, writers to express
blessings from this flourishing season’s seed
heavenly-nurtured for mankind’s access.
Springing forth from my heart these wondrous days
Joyous gratitude of faith-worship* rays.
*Psalm 99:9 Exalt the LORD our God, and worship at his holy hill; for the LORD our God is holy.
March 11, 2021
1st place, "ALL YOURS (Mar 19)" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/18/2021.
3rd place, "Your best sonnet this year so far" Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton; judged on 4/23/2021.
So gentle is the morn in spring
as tender as the rose
whose dewdrop petals long to bring
their beauty to expose.
The warm sunlight and fresh spring air,
the breeze is blowing in our hair.
The warm sunlight…
the warm sunlight
invigorates a day so fair.
So gentle is the morn in spring
in nature’s outdoor room;
the butterflies are fluttering
from bloom to lovely bloom
to pollinate the flowers need
and spread their beauty with it’s seed.
To pollinate…
to pollinate
the budding love that will proceed.
So gentle is the morn in spring
like coos of mourning dove
while calling for his mate to bring
exciting lilts of love.
I long to feel so young again
while strolling in the April rain;
I long to feel…
I long to feel
the tender notes of love’s refrain.
April 9, 2020
O season of amber tulips, of yellow daffodils,
Of grinning verdant prairies, of cheery hills,
Of giggling, burbling streams rushing to seas,
Of fragrant breeze rustling passions of trees;
How scintillating is the glance of your smile,
O grandeur of beauty, how jovial is your style!
O vibrance of growth, of avid nascent moods,
Emerging anew boasting budding attitudes,
Stimulating twigs of maple, oak, sycamore,
Preening aura of leaves now brought to fore;
How rhythmically you sway melodies of spring
Attuning to love themes, fervid robins sing.
O inspiring season, how you thrill meadow,
Reviving glee, from demise of wintry throe
As vibes of romance in mating songs tiptoe
Echoing birds’ frolic, rekindling barren knoll,
Nesting in realms memories of yore cajole,
Where chirps of hatchlings your glory extol.
O season colorful, abloom in showy flowers,
How gaily you tap-dance with April showers
Buoying ardent dreams of bees, butterflies,
Luring spirits romantic of daydreaming eyes
Fixated mirthfully on picturesque springtime
Lauding in awe of your magnificence sublime.
February 25, 2023
Placed 2nd: In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Spring is a wide eyed child
on the back of her grandfather,
Old Man Winter.
She bounces from snow to puddle.
Spring, is a stubborn, headstrong
child whose rule of life is
chaos, wonder and excitement.
She grows from budding to flower
with every high and every low.
Sometimes she launches
fiery hot flashes of lightening
and crashes thunder and pours down
sheets of wind and rain.
Spring is the sweet child
that is mild, loving but,
has a mysterious mischievous smirk.
Spring is heart and soul,
and she is young and beautiful!
02-25-2023
In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May