Long Celestials Poems
Long Celestials Poems. Below are the most popular long Celestials by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Celestials poems by poem length and keyword.
In waiting for you, my love, the seasons have snowed in black and white,
The landscape of our time together has been painted in trenches of lingering silences,
And every moment without your voice, an eternity crystallized in waxen clocks,
The autumns have passed with winds that leafed through memories like pages rare.
Since I've been waiting for you, my love, so many years have slipped by...
The long road of your absence has been sprinkled with shooting stars,
The weeping celestials, in the night of my soul, are the lighthouses of an abandoned edifice,
The city of my heart is in mourning, and its streets bare and numbed.
And the mournful sunsets of violet purples,
Are faded lipstick marks on the rim of a forgotten glass,
Yesteryear's dreams have become cobwebbed in untamed thoughts,
Where are you, love lost in the fields of lavender of unshared evenings?
I waited for you at the crossroads of roads, a spider's web stretched between yesterday and today,
Where vows of love were carved in wind and promises of smoke,
Like shadows that dimmed beneath the flicker of candles nibbled by oblivion,
The springs have faded, the celebrated red chestnuts have rusted, in a leaden festivity.
Yet no one passed by there, no echo, just absence as a heavy cloak,
The gate to you seems locked with a thousand padlocks of steadfast memories,
By the sea I dream of you, a foam statue waiting in silence,
Only the waves, prompt in mysteries, confide to me the secret of the parted.
The ocean of my soul waves its unseen wings,
In the close murmurs of hidden shells on endless shores,
I wonder what solemn horizons, what illuminated passages have you walked since you left?
The waves respond with froth of cold regrets and with untouched, uncreated prints.
And this evening, again, the violins cry beneath my window,
Soothing their longing in faint voices piercing the amber sky's infinity,
It's the autumn of a soul that submerges under time, under yearning, under an unconsoling sky,
In a lamentable dance to the notes of romance, which fall away like leaves in the wind, wandering without end.
Come, come and find me in my solitude
You shall see the hidden facet of this girl so prude
You shall see the real me
The wild side which I keep repressed for the sake of societal civility
Pray, the real me is sensual
Yes, the real me relishes the physical, the carnal
The real me thrives there where there is feminine freedom
Freedom, exquisite and intense without ever fearing of being fallen!
The real me is broken
Yes, the real me is lost in a mirage
A mirage which would never be put into usage
A mirage which caused my heart to be sunken
The real me, then, is empty
Devoid of emotions for the lot of humanity
Even if I do keep writing of philanthropic poetry
Why, the real me is void, too busy swirling in emotional misery
The real me is a half human girl with magical powers
The real me can fly, can turn into mythical creatures
The real me can even bid life to go as she does will
The real me is good in mystery and skilled as well!
The real me is so orthodox,
To the extent of celebrating purity
To the extent of denigrating the loss of morality
The real me hates that which causes one to be sinful!
The real me relishes the mystery of life
The real me thirsts for death
For the real me is bent on faith
Faith which promises of other realms, of that God, bold and handsome!
The real me yearns for more of mystical love
Yes, for love which can transgress Earth and the celestials
The real me is and shall remain a mystery for humankind
For eons and eons to come!
The real me, then, is a solo Queen
Soft, sensitive, gentle and at times, so mean
The real me can hurt and kill for that which I believe in
The real me, though, abides by Truth!
Why, the real me is who I am in my solitude
The real me is deep and wild, so different from the side so prude
That I do show to the world
Yes, the real me is always in ecstasy with my own being!
The real me is complex and complicated
The real me is two faced, two sided
The real me is hard to be demystified
The real me, though, is, for the sake of being!
“I am the Moon and live way up high
In the night sky
I live among the brightest of stars
In my galaxy, also lives Mars,
Infinite is my neighborhood,
I would like to smile if I could,
But my persona is to look sad,
It makes me ever so mad.
Lovers lie on the beach sand at night,
Their love etched in the sand in sight,
But others, prefer frying,
Under your rays, blazing
Showing off their human tans,
Oh you darnn Sun, you do have fans,
But a criminal, causing chaos, so hot,
As in devil, certainly not
So much fun,
They prefer me any day,
To you red hot Sun!”
Frustrated the Sun replies,
“I come out every day,
I sustain all vegetation growth,
Warm humans from the outside in,
And the inside out,
Even visit freezing Norway.”
Patiently the Moon listens.
“Oh what do you in any case know,
I dear Sun, provide light
In the night,
And light up dark paths with a glow,”
The Moon then continued.
“And people like to wish when I’m waxing,
Men and women, girls and boys, worldwide,
All too soon
Declaring their love
Giving poets a chance to translate this
Love into words, all around planet Earth,
Across its length and girth.”
“You are such an egotist.”
The Sun sarcastically said,
“Without me, Earth would be dead,
Humans would freeze,
With a rapid ease”,
“i give you that”, replied the Moon,
“You are rather cool!”
“But you’re a romantic fool”,
Exploded the Sun,
“I’m indispensable
To humankind,”
Our romantic Moon had to have
The last word,
"I could eclipse you, but
Maybe you’re right,
I admit in a debate. You score,
You are rather bright,
But I have made history,
Man rocketed to my land,
And held a handful of sand,
Humans landed on me the Moon,
And planted the American flag,
Now I know you feel I do brag,
But I am so proud
Without any shadow of doubt.
Enough now, so let’s call a truce,
And say its deuce, your advantage,
We are both needed,
And respectfully heeded.”
A barred spiral galaxy in the Giraffe
has one of the arms curled in front of its core
where dust laden lanes in the grouping outpour
as Hubble has shown it for earthlings’ behalf.
Some sort of encounter perhaps came along
for bent NGC Two One Four Six once took,
which lent it that loopy anomalous look,
engendering forces colossally strong.
So lively in midwifing star births is it
that this galaxy earned the term starburst kind
like clusters of blooms Mother Nature designed
in tropical gardens terrene to visit
or namely the clerodendrum called starburst
which effloresces in a canopy bright
as do starburst galaxies at cosmic height
with budding sidereal young being nursed.
The galaxy’s less large than Milky Way’s size
just slightly, they say, to astronomers’ eyes,
with starry creation in lavish supplies
thus adding to worlds in stelliferous skies.
What habitants will these celestials see fit
to bring to fruition as creatures, to wit,
allow them to flourish as features permit
then blossom as lifeforms evolved bit by bit?
About eighty thousand light-years end to end
it lies ninety million light-years from our place,
this mortal abode of humanity’s race
that’s wending its oft wayward way round the bend,
or so it seems, though there are stargazer dreams
as reveries reaching existence’s plane
whence deeper dimensions of being may reign
embracing the whole of reality’s streams
in sensory oneness with all great and small,
beyond unenlightenment’s treacherous thrall,
a doomed irredeemable fate to forestall
which sadly might ever more likely befall.
We dwell in a realm where delusions benight,
enraptured in spell making wrong appear right
with vision too blurry to notice our plight.
Such times find it vital to seek out the light.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Info ~ NGC 2146, a starburst galaxy in Camelopardalis (Anne’s Astronomy News)…
She’s crying
With indignant eyes
And a tumultuous heart
He’s sighing
With restrained thighs
And a perplexed start
It slams
With a thunderous noise
And a conspiring choice
Do I end this mess? –
Or give it a Holy redress?
She seems not to care
He seems to dare
From here,
I see she watches
I see he clutches –
His heavy heart beneath his prideful fear
Her heart is pumping blood at double speed
His soul is giving in to fleshy greed
She’s waiting vehemently for a beep
He’s composing speeches way too deep
As her waiting become just hopes
And his notes stay within his heart’s ropes
They long and want
The affection their soul taunts
Questions are borne out of anger
Silence is carved out of disdain
Abandon is stemming from his inner perceived power
Regret is flowing from her deepest sincere pain
His grudge; her shame
Her hopes; his name
The battle of beauty and *****
The throttle of merry or junk
Waiting and longing
Concluding and condemning
She is closing her heart’s door
She is wishing she had more
The struggle of egos is designed
The joggle of love and his pride
Writing and cleaning
Creating and recounting
He is tossing several thoughts
He is hoping she will have more
And so it ends
He’s reuniting his heart with his feet
He’s taking a great chance at his last feat
She’s clearing her heart of clogged rage
She’s opening her arms to love’s undying age
As the heavens pours out grace –
From where I stand; an amazing space,
He tilts his heart to reveal remorse
She expunges doubt of any course
He gapes at My perfect creature
He wonders how blissful his future –
Would be with this sculpted beauty
Of the Celestials’ duty
I sit and watch, I stare and smile
At earth’s connection from countless miles
And so it ends like it never went sour
Another union as Paradise’s flower!
© Tamara Ghariokwu
18th November, 2010.
As a child, I had scribbled trifles on sea sands,
And often allowed them to get wiped by wave's hands;
Mansions and palaces on the sand I had built too,
When they got destroyed by waters I felt no woe.
This mania soon got altered to writing names,
Of persons accompanied playing many games;
The sand mansions too slowly shifted to sculptures,
And seemed in style and structure so voluptuous.
Thus with many scribbling and sculptures, times rolled on,
I got someone who looked like a girl-sculpture-swan;
We, together now, scribbled and sculptured pure love,
That as though would envy the celestials above...
The sea waves witnessed our wavy ways and wondered,
The weather too often changed its mood and thundered;
When our wedding bells aside sea happened to peal,
The sea and her creatures seemed brim filling with zeal...
The sea, then, our delightful honeymoon witnessed,
The shapes and moods of sculptures with feelings got mixed;
Sands and shells turned beds cozily decorated,
Moon and stars the ambiance illuminated...
The buds of love blossomed and on due time bore fruits,
We came to the shores now bringing our naughty kids;
They scribbled, made sculptures in magnificent styles,
We built castles within while enjoying their smiles.
Amidst tangles of routines shores now forgotten,
Our children married and their kids now begotten;
We, one in heart, hand in hand, memories Cudding,
Cherubims of happiness within us wedding...
She too is gone now I like a seagull forlorn,
Taking shelter aside the shore and within mourn;
Cherishing all good and bad memories of old,
Scribble and build sculptures keeping my heart still bold.
I see this sea and shore as paths of transcendence,
Wherefrom my spirit will sore to the resplendence;
Where the splendor of God showers on me his grace,
Where my eyes will see realities face to face.
28 July 2021
The royal chambermaid and the young warrior, fleeing the wrath of the heavenly palace, were flying low, their robes trailing through the air like colourful ghosts. Their elopement to the earthly domain had been condemned by the celestial throne, and now the soldiers of the pursuing army, forbidden to descend any further into the dwelling place of mortals and beasts, the line between heaven and earth being inviolable, had massed in the sky, each with a white cloud underfoot, their eyes following the desperate flight of the fugitives, two bright specks sweeping over the barren landscape far, far below. The commanding general raised his sword.
Deserting the blue,
Match made in heaven, earthbound,
Gravity of love.
The two lovers could sense that the end was near. Flying huddled together, his arm around her shoulders, they looked into each other’s eyes, a wistful smile on their lips, the wind pushing a thin strand of the chambermaid’s hair onto her face like the track of a tear. To die next to each other, just above the realm where they could be human about their love, was the second best fate they could have wished for.
Doomed by human hearts,
Celestials embracing fate,
Flight interrupted.
The sky darkened. A million jade arrows poured straight down from the heavens, blocking out sun and hope, whistling through the air, a shrill dirge, then smashed like thunderbolts into the land, their shafts and feathers quivering in a green fury at having been sunk in this filthy turf forever. Presently, deep in their midst, out of the trembling, seedless earth, appeared a pair of mysterious red flowers that, through the numberless winters since, have refused to wither.
A merciless sky,
A deluge of green arrows,
Bamboo forest sways.
Continued one of the angelic aliens in earth’s close orbit,
‘Thus we’re given this task by our CEO at universe Milkit.
All you need to plant the flora umpteen
Until we create a fresh ozone layer clean
It takes for us a light year for sure.
Just stop all industries that are not pure.’
OMG I worried a lot
For I understood what a great havoc
We have done to this mother Earth
And its solar system trillions worth…7
A light year is what we need to revamp the Earth
It means we created in several dearth
Like water, food, and climate change
Well that cost to bring celestials to CEO arrange
Wake up my Earthlings it’s time to rebuild
Not just the Earth but solar system with guild
Green belt needs to be increased a lot
Besides stopping the factories impuring slot
Let’s stop vehicles on the road
Encourage carpool in load..8
Otherwise the nature will take its own course
Sending its CEOs to even the Earth I endorse
Let me remind you all the aliens are not humane
Some are violent and cruel inhumane
They may dismantle even Earth’s core
Bringing the upside down like lore
Before they foray into Close Earth’s Orbit
Let’s do refine our Earth to make it fit
Love our planet and pamper it much
As if we are going to die tomorrow such..9
Now our orbit is their new abode
If we don’t mend then they will be on road
To teach us a lesson out of box
In a different way I shout (not a hoax)
Future danger is not afar
Let’s save our system star
Follow all virtues and be a human being
Citizen of multiverse in a way amazing
Beware of a predator or an alien
With mysterious background and acumen
In the Close Earth Orbit
To make us perfectly fine and fit..!! ..10
A vast explosion in the sky
of supernova’s great goodbye
is how immense celestials die.
Yet these demises have their worth
to aid perchance in future birth
of star to house a planet earth.
Our human species’ vessel home
beneath the heavens’ vaulted dome
is floating in a sea of foam
where we’ve been sailing safe and sound
with bubbles multiversed around,
so novel theories propound.
Thus in our ‘brane’ with solar world
that’s strung with particles unfurled
we dwell within dimensions curled,
as per this unifying stance
about the unbeknownst expanse
which hosts our mortal song and dance.
The firmament we peer into
plays hide and seek with what’s in view
to shift with varied light anew.
When sets the sun at day’s decline
and darkness shapes its redesign,
somewhere a star will show its shine.
Longfellow’s classic epic said
that endless meadows overhead
would ‘one by one’ in silence spread
their star ‘forget-me-not’ arrays
of blossoms for the angels’ gaze,
his lovely lines to paraphrase.
‘How countlessly they congregate’,
wrote Robert Frost of stellar spate
that waits beyond the darkling gate!
Though death all life may underlie,
in cosmic twinkling of an eye
somewhere a star is born on high…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * * *
Some sources of inspiration were the following…
“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,/ Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.”
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline: ‘A Tale of Acadie’
First line of ‘Stars’, by Robert Frost, from Robert Frost’s ‘A Boy’s Will’, 1915…
M-theory ~ Wikipedia…
Circle in the sand could tell a story
of a lost world, where celestials and machines
were one.
A crafty place where symbiosis is tasted
on the tongue.
Chimera epoxies elysian forgeries,
ruins, blistered and urned
by the seasons and the sun.
Cogs turning in the Temple of
Desperidium.
Wraith of translucent heat layers, reeling as film,
screen of video player stealing the image
of vesselic seal.
Black wings covering the eye of the past in-echoed Artisan-
lens cap, loosed, by
gait of prose and print of boot.
But it won't, divulge its secret cache,
of high hand, poker face,
in sign language-of cornerstones plans
laid from.
Jacobs Ladder Inn-hiding,
drone wave form.
A fleeting glimpse of visage,
visitage of what will soon again re-spawn,
kit of kingdom come.
Masking, its schema in paved,
mapping in hum of ley-line amathema,
violet band in tardigrade.
Petrified rainbow relic in the strata,
its soil forgotten in mind shade.
Like black chute of night blooming mushroom,
bubbles up, defiant creation,
pharmakeia l.e.d balloon parabolic ort-asm,
phantifuge,
sailing its wave of rebellion in bloom.
Renaissance reconnaissance recognizance
frequency of insanity of fallen ones
that denies their death row doom.
Tower of Babel has one foot in the grave
and one lit up in stereo- fm,
in the netherealms of CERN/Hades
a portal seeking to pierce the veil,
as a mitochondria drill.
They seek to house themselves in your temple
and corrupt the windows to your soul.