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.
Ask the fingers holding
an aloof pen.
Ask, where its passion has gone,
ambition has fled.
The fingers will be still.
How...
the empty eyes will look
at the pale pages
yoked with numbers in black...
Then,
just observe...
how a curve widens on the face
as they gaze out of the window...
The far...the farthest!
Fast, it dies out.
A swarm of feelings from the heart's cavern,
pick up their last daring flight,
to die at last
of thirst
of love...
These eyes will never dream.
Words will never be welcome.
One day they will be dumb as stars,
And grey as time.
They'll give up the race,
race to superiority.
Cold the heart as ever,
will sleep in a colder body.
Frozen as dreams they were,
will leave the turbid eyes.
Will leave,
for the worms to delight
in a body so baked in plight!
And Time?
Will it mourn or joy?
That it could not find
the fragrance of a budding mind
before it too was damned.
Lost forever
in its quicksand...
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.
~ Precious-tears-offered in-faith ... fall, God-catches them places
them, within His Souls heavenly-amphora, and with a sway of His Mighty Hand,
plucks-up His eminent-Knowledge-honed by Holy Quill. ~
~ Upright ... and looking strait into His vision for us of the new day. Offers
the many consummate opportunities riding high on the fringe of His
promise, granted in welcome. Painting a Holy Journey, evolving amid
a certain solace and freedom. Moving on into veracious days with Him
lasting on forever. Exiting beyond higher lofts of earthly sky's and rolling
lands advancing in humble reverence descending down from the openness
of the Heavens. Rewriting yet again; another-story in person for each individual.
Yes for all life; far-greater and-even-greater still ... than the others gone before. ~
~ Carrying within it ... the treasures revealed of Him strewn about found soaring
aloft the reality of Him granted and awakened devout of their surrender. Whispering,
of the latter days grateful of the many gone by. ~
~ As tender kisses resinating from-His heart of-mercy, grace-the folds-
every-nook-and-cranny-of the-lands. The-fullness-of His-consciousness-
the very-presence-of His-greater-hope ... has-placed-its-sweetness-rising-up-
in its-essence. Within-lowly-laying-effervescent; droplets-glistening-in the-
light, of His-joyous-rejoinder. Given for all; in love. Carried-in the-honest-
taste-the-freshness; of the precious morning-dew, and-in her-innocence;
truth; e'er-aware; and-seeing this-and being-fond of-His-presence thriving-within-
the-relative-ease and-dancing amid-the peace, emanating-from the-perfect-fruition-
of His-love. ~
~ Moves-to-cherish too, the-pureness ...
of-the-union ... ~
~ While rising, in-a blaze-of His-Glory; from the ashes of the past. A
new-day budding in the-wake of-its-freedom. Amid royal fields-growing-
still-fragrant more brilliant elaborate; of lavender. Has felt the-pleasure
of-His passion too, and-given the true-warmth and goodness-He has-always
been-open to provide. ~
~ Pausing-amid this beauty seen still rising in-spite-of-this out-of-the-ashes-
of-the-hate of the days of our past.
His-love remains, abides-for-us.
Why not-we-too all-move, to-look-to-cherish this like the-innocent; in their
freedom are-always striving ... to-do? ~
The Spring Queen.......
Delicate blooms
Fresh and new
Emerging colour too
Her dress.....
The colour of new green,
finished off in blue
Edged in snow drops
They follow her too
A walk through the trees
The lightest touch of her hand
and the leaves come forth
Banishing the winds from the north
That special bond...
With spring honey bees
The colour................
All from the Spring Queen's wand
A crown wrought from gold,
set on flaxen hair
Set with jewels and leaves
The colour to unfold
Such magic the wand weaves
Spring Queen.........
budding colours........
to be seen
Fresh and green
Spring Queen, touching summers day
The full blossom
Summer Queen
Tumultous green
The colour at play
The summer flowers
The colour glows
The Summer Queen walks through
Forests and meadows
The colour changing too
Summer queens' crown
Finest gold............
Bejewelled in flowers
A caress of hand...............
Petalled land....
All around
Dense leaves
of forest green
Gild the brocade.......
of the Summer Queen
Summer beginning to fade
Autumn coming.............
Autumn Queen,
sweeping through the glade
Leaves turning,
the sun , no longer burning
Rich orange and red
Yellows and browns too
Colour changing,
with Autumn's tread
Shades of brown and red.........
on her cape
The leaves begin to fall.......
With a toss of her head
She makes her way to the hall
The quiet rustle.......
Of Autumn.......
On her bustle
The colour to fall.............
As she walks to the castle wall
Her crown of bronze......
and turning leaves
Scattered trail...........
To the hall
Welcoming hail
The end of Autumn
The Autumn Queen grieves
The passing of...
The wand so...
North wind..........
The first winter snow
Winter crown..........
of the Winter Queen
Platinum and fox fur.........
The finest seen.......
The wand changing too......
Once bronze.......
Now blue,
chased with silver.....
The stars flew
Quiet fall of snow.........
From the north wind
So long ago...........
Lost reasons..........
The changing seasons
The four Queens
Within.........
Natures ring.....
Natures call
The castle wall.........
The wand that binds them all
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion
My LOVE bound to you
My Darling, I am entirely thine
As kindling in pure Formidable flame
My Beloved, My precious love
My better self,
If the moment of Immortality
Unveil to exist between us
I shalt whisper your Beloved name
As phantom of delight
Riveting as melodious
As mating birds
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion,
Your elegance and beauty
As begotten rapturous vibrant
ebullient portrait of LOVE
As blissful birth of precious
glittering mother of pearl
Invigorating to purify
my tumultuous untamed heart
My Immortal Angel,
My Dearest LOVE
My Joyful Darling
My eyes, worships Your Eyes
In pure adoration
My eyes can NO longer
hide my addiction
My Immortal Beloved
The LOVE of sublimity,
Should I not let my eyes
become lit, before YOUR eyes
As my heart’s pupil of febrile eyes
Dives in your endless ocean
of LOVE to be drowned in ecstasy
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion
My hunger has become a fain of fasting
My Darling,
Your Lips, a provocative budding beauty
which Loves to flaunts itself
shalt be my eternal
Adoring site of pilgrimage,
As my tender lips, as nourishing
As endless waves of ocean
can not resist rushing to wet
to rescue YOUR thirst of ecstasy
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion,
Faithfullest heart,
My Love bound to you, As we stem
As rose garden of Elysium
As sweet scent of LOVE
Emanating from the blossoms
As our tender hands entangled
with Majestic Red Robe Of LOVE
As Our eyes wed
For moment of eternal serenity
to cast our Hearts net in endless
ocean of sublime ecstasy
to capture our own image of ONENESS
My Immortal Beloved
Sanctuary of Love, My Darling,
I am entirely Thine,
I clasp the hand of Love
As I clasp my body
As fortitude of Love
Against YOUR body,
The Citadel of Heaven,
As my lips penetrates the silence
to whisper tenderly in Thy Beloved ears;
I LOVE THEE,
As My hearts infinite tender majesty
Shalt illuminate the Devine promise of bliss
As it echoes in eternity,
As my heart decorate the tent of LOVE
My Beloved, My fervent
My Solemn passion,
My Darling, My precious one,
My soul exclaimed in delight jubilation
My Beloved LOVE
As I am fain to see THEE
in the Bethel of LOVE,
For Eternity
Forever Thine
Forever Ours
Groundhog day 2021 - Tuesday, February 2nd
Coincides with astronomy's cross-quarter day,
marking the midpoint between
winter solstice and spring equinox,
which will occur at 5:37 AM on
in Northern Hemisphere
Saturday, March 20.
Small consolation old man winter
spans fewest days
of all four seasons,
especially when massive nor'easter
predicted today January 31st, 2021
including within neck of woods
named Perkiomen Valley Pennsylvania.
Yours truly remembers
when spry Jack (hoar) Frost
(just yea high -
both arms stretched to sky)
came early, left late and bossed
vernal equinox
rattling barenaked branches
obviously inapropos
to budding friendship.
Now (courtesy global warming/ climate change)
mother nature experiences feeling strange
within valleys and atop many mountain range,
wherein goods traded away on stock exchange.
Fortunate concerning yours truly
versus daring to brave
inclement weather
getting stranded in the process
(possibly becoming gratefully dead)
risking life and limb venturing forth
amidst near whiteout conditions
creating debacle perilous and grave
shoveling snow lest he get buried
he can remain holed up
(in tandem with the missus)
snug as a bug in his mancave.
While nestled inside warm abode for awhile
(at least until temperature upwards doth dial
safely ensconced against elements (of style),
I stopped at metaphoric woods edge
trekking until... for no rhyme nor reason
the poetic metered equivalent,
viz another mile
then stopped for coffee break
burst of energy gave me cause to smile
fording imponderable stream of consciousness
impossible (airy) mission to dodge regarding
aforesaid daunting task to craft worthwhile
poetic endeavor to entertain anonymous readers
gleaning how one bard (with his shaky spear)
evokes fiction being snowbound
as if cast adrift within Siberian exile.
Straightaway I continue writing askew
aware how literary trademark modality
characteristic of Matthew
unwittingly indelibly embedded
analous to mine Caucasian
versus swarthy melanin hue
man automatically confers eligibility granting
innumerable known mighty opportunities
(privileged skin color - how unfair)
bigoted prejudices shade those,
either hashtagged as black, brown
naturally copper toned gentile and/or Jew.
Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like
hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins,
pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf;
For suddenly and without any fair warning came,
an enormous black cloud that stationed itself overhead and
obstructed the sun from my first redwood seed in sprout
and with a great fury it released a violent torrent of rain,
drenching it completely, until alas my sapling did drown.
My budding redwood tree, destroyed before its time,
the damage is irrevocable and my sapling is no more.
Like a cannon ball shot from its cannon, fire shoots
from my mouth with all fierceness and in rage I roar….
“Who really is to blame for this unfathomable demise of
my precious sapling, my budding grand redwood tree?
Was it the black cloud with its tools of destruction or
the lack of assiduousness of those with their expertise?”
Yes, regretfully my sapling was not planted by the stream.
As a seed, in ignorance it was sown upon soil rocky and dry;
yet against all odds, my seed sprouted with some foliage,
but its roots did not run deep and so with the specialist I relied
to care and strengthen it so it could withstand the bad elements.
Sadly, they were specialists with an expert eye that could not see,
they were worthless and of no avail, lacking the assiduity needed,
for their eyes, mind and heart were blinded by their own greed.
Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like
hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins,
pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf.
For the black cloud is now set above me like a fixed stain,
with all might I struggle to escape it’s dreadful grip, but
still it hovers over me obstructing the sun from my days,
releasing a torrent of pain and in the agony of my loss it
drenches me and the answers to my questions are still opaque.
Oh...but take heed all you with your degree, my roots run deep,
I will not drown and like a raging bull I push forward so valiantly
for the lucidity of the answers, lucid as a glass made of crystal;
all for the love of my departed budding grand redwood tree.
Written by: Joan Marie Peranteau
copy written May 3, 2014
Dedicated to and written in regards to my beloved son;
Nathaniel Blaine Gibson
at first dawn of the year, I woke up early...
surrounded by zestful creepers on the quaint fence,
and budding plants around,
gazed at the miraculous sunrise in the vast, all-encompassing sky.
I am in awe!
first a red dot in the horizon...
then it grew bigger and bigger,
until the whole sky is enveloped with a mesmerizing burst of divine sunlight.
a luminous incandescent sky filled my heart....with reverence, with
utter wonderment!
this is the surreal moment of realization -
how fortunate we are to be on this majestic earth,
how blessed we are to be gifted with the magical sunlight,
the caressing air, the murmuring stream;
the tall tree branches, the velvety flower petals,
fluttering butterflies, scurrying squirrels.
here is my recluse, here is my oasis!
here I am with my thoughts.
this life has its meanings only when I appreciate with humbleness -
all the blessings showered.
I am not alone, I see you, I feel you.
at daybreak I gaze at millions of blinking, twinkling,
scintillating stars above ....
they are the witnesses of many poignant moments in life -
a shooting star announced -
the world is with me.
sometimes I feel an aching pain in the middle of night...
as if I am searching for something all my life ...
as if I dive down to the bottom of the ocean to find a pearl ...
I want you to hold my hand, I want you to guide me in my quest.
a child’s innocent smile brings the happiest moment in my day...
the neediest of the needy is waiting for my support.
remember my father's final words to me - writing is my blessing ...
with my pen, I can reach the unreachables,
obstacles can not stop creativity,
no one can curb imagination,
It flows like a river, streaming down the mountaintops,
meandering through the pebbles,
but flowing anyway,
arriving at its final destination.
January 8, 2021
For " My Spiritual Journey" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Judged on: 1/10/21
For " Your 2021 N - A Choice 2 " Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Down the fervent aeons Buddha’s sagesse,
casts its august shroud on benign witness,
shades, shadows, subtle symbol shift,
encompass cosmopolitan and temporal,
incongruous to flaccid predilection feigned,
astute statue of nuance and nicety,
crosses annual acme’s snowflake whirl,
Christmas that propitious seasonable fount,
amid the merriment and jubilation stirred,
can wry dispensation be somehow drowned,
sculpted mould epitomising solemn pearls,
to counter spartan sparkle an uneven match,
for the blissful bubble oft recurrent judder,
though evaluation oscillates on this thorny subject,
palatial gift as lavish token bountiful toward,
unswerving fellow pilgrims of our jagged journey,
despite the avalanche of advertiser’s counterfoil,
triumphant warm rush Burra Din advantage,
can engender migrating episodes deft mutual,
as the Buddha manifests a dovetail harmony,
strained coexistence with December frolic
in the most enshrined but unforeseen locations,
where Buddha influencer might drop wry hints,
juxtapose amidst jollied Christmas victuals,
where bear necessity bordering on martyrdom,
is gratuitously extolled in quaint quintessential quote,
that arrant caustic jibe at the apparently trivial,
the importance of recurring benchmark scope,
as that valid institution built on solid query,
might be seen as an awkward encroachment,
to the much pilloried fanfare of modern life,
changes are afoot when blind pursuit exhales,
has in zoom of instance been Buddha fostered,
if one probes forensically profound into the furore,
where future life burden is an exponential angst,
so abundant amid a sinister spiralling pessimism,
the seeds have been planted in a sprouting urn,
for above the shoulder carry torch consciousness,
a synchronous embryonic Buddha ethos at the core,
one is cognisant of this in zealous online sweeps,
where a budding spirit Christmas mosaic adjunct,
is a Buddhaesque nod on foot of wellness kinship
to concatenate shrouded inkling o’er enduring quest,
on the universal isthmus of humanity plagued by panacea,
one suspends as Buddha meets Christmas on a jubilant,
December day exuding generous exchange across the globe,
it’s a down the centuries dilemma entangled in time,
Dear Budding Poet,
Modern poetry to me is the reflection of the chaos and
declining intolerance of modern times. It expresses the pent-up
emotions writhing in complexity trying to embrace our beautiful lives.
I know you’re a budding poet pining to express yourself and
aspiring to make a mark. My advice to you would
be to listen to your heart and transcribe in your own way what
it says. It’ll become a poem because your heart is the window
on the world through which you perceive the human values taking
intricate shapes, yarns of emotions weaving tapestry of joy
and grief, and the beauty of life designing ecstasy in your mind.
Don't ever close this window. You look out at the pristine
nature and absorb the elegance it frames. You would reach
the realm of exaltation when your mind would swim on
imagination. Let it flow in its own course meandering through
the landscape of your times. Wake up the muse in you and
let it float. You’ll then find formless blocks of words appear
as imagery. You need to use your pen to sculpt from these
the piece of art, your poetry.
Poetry in my life is like a perennial fountain drenching my
parched mind, drowning my sorrow, draining my tears
and satiating me with joy of creation.
My favorite themes : nature, love, emotions, fantasy,
introspection, desire, dream.
My favorite reference sources : www. howmanysyllables.com,
Cliché Finder, Thesaurus, www.rhymezone.com.
Titles of my favorite poems I’ve written (in order of preference) :
Atmospheric Pressure, Your Lacustrine Beauty, Through
The Opaque Night, Flowing Silence, As I was Walking In The Snow,
Searching You, Sign of Times, Kite Flies Away From Concrete
Jungle, Opening The Mind’s Petals, Embrace of Quietus.
My literary background : I’m an Earth Scientist having a doctorate
degree, published many scientific papers , received national
awards for research. My parents who were teachers of
literature infused in me the love for poetry. I started writing poetry
from high school days, published 4 books of poems.
Suggestion for book title : “The making of a poet”,
“Poems in search of a poet”.
May, 23, 2018.