Long Ceding Poems
Long Ceding Poems. Below are the most popular long Ceding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ceding poems by poem length and keyword.
I was there when love became you.
It spread across your eyes and smile,
left a breathless caressing hue
and whisper of softest beguile.
Aching for your gentle embrace,
yearning for the pulsing heartbeat
that your touch fetches with its trace
skimming my skin in burning heat.
I succumb to your calm shadow
arching with fresh unbound pleasure.
Growing fury of ebb and flow,
recurring sensual treasure.
You raise my heated eagerness
with sweet, sultry, seductive eyes.
My breath, catching in meagerness,
ceding in dramatic surprise.
I arise with feverish flush
designing a rhythmic motion
to entice, encourage first gush
in raw unrestrained emotion.
Ah, my love, will you stay with me
forever and further behoove?
We shall grow in greater degree,
you and I, without vain reprove.
My love, my skillful seducer.
In life, I dedicate my all.
You have become my producer.
In death, I'll hear your lustful call.
Your salacious murmurs teasing
torrid desire in me anew.
Your voice passionately pleasing.
I was there when love became you.
Here on the cusp of all things, is where I succumb
Ceding my stuff blindly, toward oblivion and none
Unwilling to persevere, without a modicum of fun
Listing in perpetual stasis, til the spasm’s undone
And yet a god may save me, or a talisman of love
Some prophet of euphoria, quelling ennui thereof
Placing good tidings, into a universal equation
Edifying eternity…..revealing its exact duration…..
Alas he speaks in riddles, and treads a mobius strip
Each cycle forming a twist, convoluting his trip
Determined I follow, my awareness in collapse
Narrow-mindedly stumbling into mortality traps
Now I sense the endgame, but decline to exalt
Its a distortion, an abortion, a cataclysmic fault
Chance meeting with a nihilist, yields positive results
Unable to see past zero, he reveals nothing but cults
Here on the cusp of all things, is where I begun
A contorted brain-f*ck, had no choice but to come
A demon of clarity, with an open ended measure
One who gives to please, but prefers taking pleasure
To believe for one moment, I’d live off a dying spark
Only denies potential, when again life goes dark
With more light to come, my sunglasses prepared
Eternity’s not polarised, just infinitely layered
If a blind man articulates, I’ve seen all this before
Screaming and convinced “I’m a seer at my core”
Could be he’s mistaken, or deluded with Déjà vu
Begs his final question, “do I have a point of view”?
Sculpting tinges periwinkle, eventide paints on arc of ruby skies,
Sunset dreams of freezing eve, longing warmth of moonrise;
As realms gelid waltz, where light-beams with shadows dance,
Shuddering boughs, quivering vistas, swaying barren expanse.
Prairies frozen glimmer, resplendence of pristine falling snow,
Where decaying colors of fall, in remnants of autumn glow,
When twinkling cosmic rivers, on tapestries of Milky-Way flow,
As frosty moonlight glistens knolls, of shivering terrains aglow.
Quietude dwells in grip of winter, where lakes and rivers froze,
Where beauty shines reflecting light, gleaming blustery woes,
Of shorter days, of time glazed, mellowed in golden sunshine,
Ceding to lingering nights, glinting in glamor of heavens divine.
"The amount of good luck coming your way depends on your willingness to act". Quote by Barbara Sher
______________________________________________________________
Whispers of disobedience float in the air.
A challenge beyond the conformity snare
An inability or refusal to shift or comply
However, awareness stirs—a probing stare.
Prejudice dances with arrogance—and defy
Forcefulness quality—firm fervor to untie.
Rebellion and lack of collaboration clash.
Invest in openness—it's time to stroll and fly.
Refusal and firmness oppose ceding or crash.
Willfulness, otherwise, is wisdom gained to dash.
Mastery gives way to mystery—humility to adore.
As the spirit discovers its own rhythm and flash.
When you act from the depths of your soul's core.
You sense a river flowing—a delight you can't ignore.
Award-winning is optional, as has been shown.
However, the drive to prevail is a factor to explore.
Vocation isn't from having a strong will alone.
It involves listening and finding your unique tone.
The dance of will and stubbornness—a path of dread
A delicate equilibrium, a magnificent finesse throne
So let your resolve lead you—push you ahead.
Listen for the hushed voice of willingness instead.
For in the rhythm of these two, a dance to adjoin
Therein is the beauty of growth—wisdom to be said.
Let us, therefore, accept both sides of the coin.
The determination and commitment to join.
In the dance of avarice and openness line.
We uncover our true glory, our inner enjoin.
In the vast symphony of life's grand design
Willpower and flexibility dance—intertwine.
Because it is at the junction of these two.
That we find our essence and its true sign.
1st place contest winner
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
________________________________________
Cherish the moments, rising on fabric of fuchsia skies,
Painting motifs of amber dawn, dipped in golden sunrise,
In brushstrokes mauve, tinted pink, on opaline skyline;
Where themes heavenly with dreams of morn entwine.
Ride path of sun’s trajectory, soak-in aureate sunshine,
Be amid nature’s mystery, sky-scapes of mystical design;
Rejoice the day, in its prime, revel life’s moments sublime,
Before they wither away, falling prey to reign of time.
Sail the blue waves, synchronize with rhythms of sea,
Undulating with inspiration of tides, vying shores of glee,
Ruminating of paradise, afloat on resplendence, carefree;
Blissful, hearing robins sing, watching butterflies spree.
Be hypnotized, on cusp of twilight, inhale the wild air,
Pulsating from hearts of trees as winds westerly blare;
Be the moment chiming, strumming tenor of breeze,
Snuggling rosy delight, caressing eve’s blush of tease.
Extolling arc of crimson horizon, lost in sun’s goodbye,
As day-decaying beautifies aura, in shades of magenta dye,
Capture the moments blazing fire, ceding to moonlight,
Dipping in the ocean, dispersing glimmer of ruby delight.
Axed dent of circumstances
finds yours truly liberated,
whereby no obligatory constraints
obliges forcible adherence
synchronizing Circadian rhythm
forcibly linkedin within paradigm
minutely crafting, daisy chaining
involuntarily ceding cradle to grave
man made artificial construct
(dismissing one living away
off the gridlock)
co-opting every precious moment
comprising hour quotidian existence
to sustain swiftly styled
harry tailored lifestyle
affording bajillion *****sapiens
luxury to scold frantic scramble,
freedom to scurry frantically
twenty four seven madcap rat race
formerly existing (millenniums ago)
as "noble savage"
ah...remember those glory days
now, grudgingly,
niggardly... unwittingly
compromising pleasant dreams
jarring deeply slumbering
body electric groggily awake
liberty, courtesy alarming wake up
to toil away making dem
big dearly beloved bucks
essentially entering holy grail
searching made more worthwhile
thankless fracas, fray, fraught
pitting one beasty boy against t'other
survival of fittest in overdrive
(Charles Darwin taken aback),
how origin of most ruthless species
went a courtin for dazzling,
jazzy, regal trappings
supposedly to ease
grueling laboring mind numbing
lumpenproletariat, when after
devoting, sacrificing, venerating...
prime mating years
take respite, and
hire oneself out
as independent contractor,
versus sedately pathetic mundane...
you bet your life
in relation to this
self ostracized scrivener.
To know that you know, shakes fragile ground
under what's unanswerable
crying out for the answers
to why this—that occurs
we bridge the gap with
a mythical
solution
put in
charge
here
there
ceding control
to omniscient servitude.
We know we can't master storms nor fate
nor read the grammar of seasons.
So we summon intention
to order the chaos
from the know-it-all
we put in charge,
we can name,
blame and
damn
as
cause
for all the gaps
in our shortfall of knowings.
We see how causes fail, fall away
as our knowledge and learning grows.
With the mystical dwindling
to explain, it recedes
into the background
left to beliefs
held by faiths
yearning
to
be
made
a whole being
spiritually complete.
Undulate on burbling rivers rushing to meet sea,
Buoying spring’s hilarity, ceding to summer’s plea;
Marvel on wings of autumn as falling colors spree,
Rejoice pristine snowflakes adulating winter’s glee;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Sail on crest of tides where summer ebbs and flows,
Guide autumn’s journey thrilling season of snows,
Whether lauding sunshine or twilight in shadows,
Whether in blazing colors or woes of wintry throes;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Despair not in shudder of shivering naked trees,
For autumn decaying in clasp of wintry freeze,
Sows the seeds sprouting exuberance of spring,
Where, serenading renewal, doting robins sing;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Alas! soon blossoms wilt, autumn’s revelry ends,
And unseen remains future where tomorrow bends,
So, grab your today and let its winter day-dream
In the seasons of youth, fond memories redeem.
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
July 13, 2022
The Time Between the Seasons Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "
Quote by_Constance La France
The creative urge of our vibrant soul
articulates poetry when it heeds
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
Navigating life to fulfil our role,
without any doubt love magnetism leads
the creative urge of our vibrant soul.
To rise from limitation and feel whole,
drawn to love’s beauteous rhythm soul needs
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
Knowing our aura is blackened like coal,
oh hermit, know God's boundless grace yet feeds
the creative urge of our vibrant soul.
Making unique music, being our goal,
empty like space, purity of heart speeds
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
We paint the canvas by ceding control,
as the burning yearning to ink love seeds
the creative urge of our vibrant soul;
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
14-November-2022
HMS, Rhymezone, PS Grammar
Theme: Writing
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
If no longer could I inscribe, upon tapestries of rosy skies,
Dreams tinted violet, blossomed in themes amethystine,
And no longer could I weave-in the dreamscapes of life,
Failing to decode the missives of your clandestine smile;
If bluebells, red buds, white magnolias~ blooming spring,
And the tall oaks swaying with the slow dance of willows,
And the zephyrs that undulate ripples, burbling with currents,
Could no longer wow you on the banks of our giggling river;
If rustling trees, whirling leaves, dazzling chromatic glee,
Majestic aspens, sugar maple, fall’s stellar symphony,
And blushed twilight ceding to moonlit night’s euphony,
Could no longer mesmerize you in autumn’s blazing glory;
If frosty season sprinkling snowflakes on enchanted evening,
Bedecking face of prairies, enlivening decaying meadows,
And sun’s aureate mellowed rays glinting elongated shadows,
Could no longer lure you to the splendor of falling snow;
If I can’t infer love from passions amethyst of rising dawn,
If I can’t decipher meaning of your covert, unfolding smile,
If I can’t invoke spring in budding birth of yellow daffodils,
If I can’t show you autumn in a single golden falling leaf,
If I can’t make you feel, winter’s angst in shuttering trees;
Then I am afraid, it must be true, a poet I have ceased to be;
And yet, I hear you say my dear, forever you will love me.