Long Burbling Poems
Long Burbling Poems. Below are the most popular long Burbling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burbling poems by poem length and keyword.
Bubbling babbling burbling banter from the bar..
Sup hush….memory lane trip...Proustian rush..pleasingly tickled.
Plushly ebbed…spidery beer swirls webbed…lace whirls..grace dimpled dappled jar..
Perch...parched pagans besmirch..sip...druid fluid drip..Iris’s secular church..
Venerate yesteryear dips…commemorate Faustian fillips....teasingly pickled..
Smug treacle toned thatch rugs hugs sturdy slabs.. shrugs..
Tugs tussling tree torn trusses and trestles....
Trumpets tradition.. crisp crumpets in flames..sedition flickering..
Like sassy strumpets calling each other names…playfully bickering..
Remember the surreal cast….gayfully ethereal echoes..
Beacons blush in the embers of the past..
Classy pubs dripping with polished pewter.. parochial paraphernalia…ballsy brass...
Crepuscular charms. splinters splicing smokey shadows..
Wafting whispers.. across tobacco tinted tainted times..
Whistles whetted..quaffing…quenching ...cavorting with crannies..
Carousing with nooks naked in timber flannelled panels..
Canoodling on fecund bulbous bales farm foraged.. freshly fashioned...
Flirtatious follicle flicks....gurgling guffaws, raffish rascals' whisky whimsy..
Courting curious covens..sporting prosecco cackle cacophonies.
As sons become dad..in turn perched with their lad..
Lady lawyer betwixt a pimpled tyro…local employer, bumpkin on the giro..
Museums of marvels.. hoodwink misplaced metaphors..
Laced with a house pour of moreish memories of before..
That without impunity the nub of a pub..
The bar.. a community hubbub hub..
Gracious Landladies…loquacious Landlords..
Sagacious stars...near and far..
We raise our jar.
For our home from home..
A public house..
Ta..
What can be more beauteous than nature
The sky, clouds, flowers, mountains, greens
The water bodies, birds, animals, insects, aquatic life
The sunrise, the sunset, rains, dew drops.....
Master painter has painted with wonderful strokes a stupefying surrounds
What can be more melodic than the sounds of nature
Chirping of birds, rustling of leaves, whooshing of winds
Burbling stream, splashing waves, pitter patter of rain drops
Sounds of laughter, babbling of a baby
What can be more joy giving than a feeling of peace
When you hear words I love you!
When people around care for you
When others assist in need
When you bask in knowledge that God loves you
When you understand you are a portion of him
Can anything equal the joy of living in present
Enjoying through senses all multifarious scents, sounds and scenes
What can equal a dandy food eaten slowly with relish
Abundance of joy we receive
when we are aware of all the sensations experienced by our skin
When our senses are not concentrated in mind
When mindlessly enjoying the moment
To be euphoric we only need to be aware!
18.05.2021
Ascending dawn scintillates in golden sunrise
Enriching ambience of grinning crimson skies
As gentle winds propagate splendorous themes
Of budding prairies, of avid burbling streams,
Of fragrant revelry swaying blossoming trees,
Luring nectar-dreams of waltzing, buzzing bees.
Birds merrily frolic~ hopping, trilling carefree,
Inspecting, admiring, a season donning glee,
Warbling mid-air, choreographing playful zeal
Vying white blossoms of magnolia’s appeal,
Opulence of red tulips, distant lush foothills,
Gliding over exultantly dancing gold-daffodils.
Engrossed in resplendence, leisurely we stroll,
Embracing tender love smitten passions cajole,
Eying landscapes idyllic panoramic vistas scroll
From majestic mountain, vibrant grassy knoll~
Yearning earnestly euphonic ballad of spring
Reverberating melodies verses of hearts sing.
May 2, 2023
Poem of the day on May 4, 2023
Placed 1st: Up To 20 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Springing free from glistening
Fronds
The summers heat leaps for
Height;
Whilst drifting obscurely far
Above
A distant lark now hangs in
Flight.
Floats down his sweet trill,
Accompanied by joyous and
Uplifting revelry,
Over the black crows nasal
Calls;
Whose draped shadow,
contemplating devilry,
Flaps and furtively falls
Into ripening bean fields
Planted in neatly sowed rows:
Nourished in darkest till,
Enriched by pedantic verse of
Gaelic odes.
Do now these gentle Slopes
Pause to yield
Where secretive song,
Bursting forth, is much concealed
inside the plain of Aidhne;
For here the great rock of the
Burren,
Whereby so implored upon,
Revealed its grey stones...
To rebuild ancient and deserted
Thoor Ballylee.
Sweeping briskly past a tors
Grassy island busy in bloom,
Eagerly cramming under four
Crouched arches,
Skim the borrowed waters of
Thee immortal Cloone;
Dappling currents
Dawdling around squat stanchions -
Staunchly carrying the quiet bridge
Over the old concourse:
Momentarily loitering -
Wantonly begging to coyly swoon...
Now, joyfully sporting in gushing
Discourse,
Gleefully courting elusive and
Glimmering enchantments:
Mirrored reflections enticed to
Enter -
To be forever trapped within a
Burbling rivers sacred rhyme and
Tune.
Higher and higher the spiraling
Stairs of de Burgo
When through airy woodland
Glades
The towering shadow sought;
And higher and higher the spirit
Of an ageing poet...
His crowding thoughts
Roaming freely amidst these
Fabled legends of Gort.
Harken then to the feathered
Herald -
Tis Gods design that calls on
Ye!
For few men know of what he
Sings...
He sings of the forgotten paths
Forever lost within Innisfree.
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
Nights became days that quietly led,
Led to the dream in his mind,
Where he woke to sounds of birds all around,
In the forest of trees from outside,
His small little tent, pitched on the flat,
Soft green ground, a soft bed,
Beside the beautiful burbling river,
Flowing around in his head,
Then he peered across the silent flat brook,
And prepared his line all alone,
For the quietest fish beneath the surface,
Who swim deep in the unknown,
And calmly he cooked, on his primitive stone,
His meal of fish, beans and spuds,
He sat and relaxed with his now empty mind,
About all of the people he loves,
Days became nights for the travelling man,
At his campsite, his forest, his throne,
Till morning next day, when he packed all his stuff,
And quietly returned back to home.
Defeated , deflated,
despondent, degraded,
All fun out the door,
Am I mad to want more?
Hyenas all circling,
Baying and burbling,
They hunt for a thrill
The chase and the kill.
Bombarded, lambasted,
Prodded and tested,
My world pandemonium,
Surrounded by odium.
I've worked and I've tried
For greatness I've strived,
So little compassion
Today's angry fashion.
All I now say,
All I now do,
Battered and burned,
No sympathy earned.
Yet on I go,
I toil and I sow,
For a better tomorrow
Masking my sorrow.
But let the chips fall,
I'll weather this squall,
I'm great at this game
Who then will they blame?
Trouble, trouble stirs the wind
ghastly ghosts rise and ascend
warty toads croak
vile spells are spoke
witches’ covens evil intend
Burbling, gurgling cauldron hot
with purple vein, red blood clot
virgins hopeful eyes
fear and dread belies
throw them in and stir the pot
Screeching, screaming banshee songs
garish ghouls with pointy prongs
mulish mummies
reeking rummies
to evil spirits the night belongs
Trembling, tremoring witches fear
townsfolk are coming too near
sticks and stones
fire bemoans
the end becoming too clear
Freaking, shrieking their cry drums
slicing the air with its thrums
unwilling to face
they cut to the chase
quickly flee to save their bums
He said that it was brillig, but what did that word mean
And slithy is a word that I had never seen
If you gyre and gimble, what do you really do
I guess when in the wabe, you seek the meaning too.
Lewis was a master of words that were not real
He made you fear the Jubjub, and he made you feel
Like your very being, is a door without a latch
It takes bravery to shun the frumious bandersnatch.
We attack the world of words with a vorpal sword in hand
Verses, like the Tumtum tree, sprouting in the sand
And structure with rhyming can be a manxome foe
Whiffling and burbling, the flaming words will go.
Choosing careful phrases can bring a frabjous day
And poems not dead, like borogoves, find their mimsy way
While galumphing through the tulgey lines with uffish chortled joy
It makes me through and through a whiffling beamish boy
So Lewis paints a picture with unreal words so clear
The Jabberwock seems so real and something we should fear
Poetry is the art of words, with phrasing, tales and fun
Proceed carefully, and beware the Jabberwock my son.
“The sounds of Earth is the music of my soul.”
Sounds of earth echo from mountains and meadows,
Lauding nature's rhythms as zephyrs gently blow,
Strumming soul's music burbling rivers compose,
Rippling babbling waves giggling with ebb and flow;
Where seasons rustle whirling autumns, and springs,
Where butterflies waltz, fluttering ardent wings;
While lured by birdsongs, sweet melodies I long,
When stars stage symphony to nightingale’s song.
August 10, 2022
Placed 1st: Let Your Muse Be Inspired – R Form Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Form: Rispetto
Rhymes: ababccdd (Rhymezone)
Syllables: 11 per line (howmanysyllables.com)