Long Circle round Poems
Long Circle round Poems. Below are the most popular long Circle round by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Circle round poems by poem length and keyword.
Padraig's Fire
Hurry!
Hurry through the night
With windstorms
Breathing at your back
Before the shadows know
You pass their doors -
Their darkened, dusty, empty hearths -
Before the dawn ascends -
Before the pipes awaken;
Carry close
Precious flint and tinder
Next to the wildly beating
Warmth -
Beneath your flowing cape.
Hurry!
Hurry down the rolling path,
Rising up to meet your feet,
Sweetly caressing your rushing steps,
Passing sentinels
Of ancient oaks,
Graveyards
Where primeval elms once stood,
That guard a narrow door
Of the river Boyne
Watching over Tara's keep
In a valley of wild rushing eddies
Shedding superstitions
Restraining deep planted longings.
Hurry!
No faire voices invitation;
Only life, held out in promises,
Beckons pilgrims here -
Pass through the numbing chill
Going down to rise up
Past myths
Into inviting aires and covenants;
Pass through the chill of seperation;
Pass through the swirling current
Gripping to release sandaled feet;
Hold high the flint and tinder
Then rest within the hollows of a hand
In quiet glens of grace.
Listen!
Listen for the kerry drums
Pounding welcome in swirling reels -
Ancient dances -
Reawakened from Adam's time
Released from sleep to circle round and round
While sparks from glowing tinder,
Brought to life from sharpened flint,
Battle winds of haunted years
That lived in isolation
Pulling up from fiery spindles flaming whorls -
New and paschal fire returning;
Circles meeting circles thunder
In death's shattering death.
Listen!
Listen as the moan of banshees
Banishes forever winter's touch
To see the sleeping hills
Shake off an exiled life
And hear the harps - uilleann pipes,
Newborn visions
Watch the wind dance of the kells begin
With towering fireworks
Shooting up from the valley floor
In rhythm to the bohdran and the tiompan
To seek completeness
In the hotly glow of dawning -
Vernal offerings in emerald fire.
Arise!
Arise to cradle emerald fire
Dreaming ever softly
In fields of clover
And timeworn stones,
Witnesses
To the arrival of winnowing flames
When centuries embraced
Again
Until the days remembering
Final meals and crosses - a waiting tomb -
Blesses once again
The quest of hard flint and soft tender
Before a cross - life within a circle.
3.
Wrapped close, in implacable, bitter embrace,
The winter grips the land and holds it immobile,
A cat upon its mouse.
Stripped bare, glazed with stony ice
Ashudder beneath a slatecloud sky
That drops its snow in a hush of crowding dimness,
A white leaden mantle
Lain over empty fields, piling 'round trunks of skeletal trees
Standing soberly, waving bony branches in the frozen air
The twilight days light a world now comatose,
Drawn in against the cold and huddled like
Some invalid giant shorn of all his strength,
Lying stretched half slain across the firmament
Gazing into nothing with distant blank stare
As scattered carrion birds wheel against a wan canvas,
Waiting.
Those two in their little house circle 'round as well,
Moving without purpose through the events of their lives
As the cold outside seeps into the rooms
Invading their thoughts
Making them tremble
Shaken in the blindness of their desperation,
Though the fire blazes orange-warm in the hearth,
Defending this inside space from the day's deep gloom,
Autumnal sorrows have collected in the silence,
Worn their hearts weary with cares;
Thus the spirit's wounds have festered and widened,
Filling with the poison of despair.
Soft sparks the glow the fire makes in his tired eyes,
Reflecting wild fears that her love is lost;
They dance in his mind, stabbing with a pain
That knows no cure.
Long the time he just looks at her,
This life that chose to be with him always,
He sees that
Whatever
The hurt that came between,
He cannot bear she leave him
Condemned to go on without her,
Alone.
Her thoughts for him are much the same,
Though she says it not.
Yet when at last he reaches out across the table
To take her hand in his,
She looks up, and for one long moment
They two become the lone human pair
In all of space and time,
In one another's moist crystalline gaze
They read a deep sweet tale
In a language without words.
Something melts,
And something breaks
In that moment when she gently folds
Her delicate fingers over his,
Looking down again with a schoolgirl smile
Spreading irresistible over her face.
Outside, in the blackness of the star-shot night,
Ice cracks;
Waters run clear beneath the snow.
Love's Compass Rose
( Valentine Poem 2018)
From the East we set out,
Gathering steam;
A rising sun ignites
The birth of the dream,
Celestial fire lights
The path of youthful love,
Finding its way upon
The blinding heights
Of Spring's unbounded passions.
Heedless we, by days and nights
Of Destiny or Destination.
Then moved by Nature's own determination,
To the South we turned
Our yet-young steps,
Down to where the long Summer burned,
Bloomed, and its tendrils crept
Alongside all the way,
Sometimes caught
Sometimes slowed our tread -
Yet still we strode, all down the day
Arm weaved in arm
We held each other sway
Until the Summer gave us all Her best.
Then we turned us to the West;
Where now we wend our careful way
Through the land of gold and red
Where the taste of cold hangs in the day
And what is said and left unsaid
Colors all the cooling air
Drawing us nearer, step by step
To the silent North
As it paints the frostlines in our hair.
Now I would not wish to be a boy again;
Thou art now to me more passing fair
Then thou wert to me before, and so...
In the end it's to the North we go,
Up high above, to the silent land
Where the diamonds of the sky shine true
Where together we shall stop and stand
Thee with me, I with you
Reviewing all the good things we've done,
Then call it good, as the night comes down
To wrap us in its starry arms.
In this ending we have won
The rewards of patient labor.
The Winter of the North will welcome us at last
As the present is the only child of the past
So goes the Circle, 'round and 'round.
We go around Love's Compass Rose,
With some things lost, others found,
Wondering at the things we chose
To keep or cast aside.
When it's done, the time spent
If it was well done, there may be more,
There may be more betide;
We may be given to go 'round again,
To meet my Joy, my Wife, my Pride -
Somewhere South of Seventeen.
Gazing,
Greek letters display of curious origin.
Impregnation skin softly writhing aware letters
Sea
Alpha, Omicron, Tau, Psi, Mu, Rho, pass through all the rest and each other figure 8
Jangling in strange confronting orbits
Gossamer skin flays, the letters
Pulsing, transforming, letter of many letters, blur into the naked moment
Peeling, ghostly skins of finest rice paper move in snapshots.
Antique movie projectors of the future in gleaming metal dimensions provide the beam of data.
Clear butterfly wing skins, of most delicate light composition drift away on sighing notes.
Northerly pinned eyes of cartoon snakes circle round their primitive crayon bodies, snakes scattered, handfuls of straw.
Ivy sneaks, moving snakelike, twisting embrace of delicate moving entwining, tiniest crimson leaves wave and cavort.
I brush them with my hand, a sigh, a shudder.
Rippling passes, a pleasant tremor of metaphysical nostalgia, exhaling-inhaling, large-small eyes go in tremulous quark orbits of no time.
Letters-Snakes-Ivy,
Changing, blue hues pass into yellow moons of eclipsing black-hole pupils.
It is another,another, another, another-another, other, forgetting-remembering, passing, fading, rebounding, incoming, trailing away…
Exultation of indistinct revelation.
Looking, hidden information lurks in creeping shadows that run when thought over.
Forearm falling trapeze into screaming meters, Terror/Enthronement beep rapidly, hyper strobes paralyzed awe droning to absurd levels.
Genie teleporting snapshots poof like insane santas blasting through never-ending chimney floors.
Cessation, Self, Other, Break, Form, Mystery, Spin
Only can appear if vanished first, no first can be found, cannot appear to vanish. Not vanishing, so never appearing.
I am back to myself, gazing at the arm. The arm, the letters, the snakes, the ivy do not contain the thing to know, they are.
I can only follow and behold.
Dearest Ann , today the world completes a soft, golden circle 'round the sun, and in that warmth, your name repeats as if the stars know what you have done: Loved me through the fires,
Kissed me through storms,
Held me when I broke
and rebuilt me to what I am.
Ten years, my love, and still I learn how you fold forgiveness into fire,
how your silence sings, how your eyes burn with a holy, undying desire.
You have bled and bloomed,
You're grace in motion, a garden that grew in droughts of emotion.
You are the moonlight that unbuttons the dark, the ache in my chest when we’re apart, the hush in the house that feels like art, the echo of God’s own beating heart.
Your breath is a hymn I rise to each dawn, your skin—like silk where my soul is drawn.
I have watched you weep and not wither, watched you laugh with pain still in your chest, watched you give more when there was little left,
my love, in every way, you will always be the one.
Ann, if I could make this moment a rose,
I would press it in time where no one knows.
If I could write this love on your skin, you would feel how deep it goes within.
So on your birthday, beloved Ann, let me unwrap your soul tonight: not just with hands, but with reverence rare, to honor the fire in how you care.
To thank you with touch, with eyes, with breath, for every “yes” you gave through death.
Through heartache, hope, and holy repair, you stayed. You stayed. And you are still here.
Let me love you slow like rainfall dreams, let me hold your name in sacred streams, let my words bless your life with love that you are not just a wife—you’re my life.
So happy birthday, my Queen, my flame, my every whisper wrapped in our name.
Sweet Ann, the years may come, but this truth remain:
if I were born again, I would find only you.
Happy birthday my love,
Your Roger.
We’d been fishing in the Shady for some crays up in the hills,
where you fight the blackberry and elude the snake with skills,
were leeches have the power of near sucking all your blood,
and you cannot tell the difference - is it quicksand or mud?
Then there is the silent march fly and mosquitoes with their sting,
or we might confront the bull ant and the anguish it can bring,
and of course a cray can grab you with its power-laden claw,
so when we go crayfishing there’s not much we can ignore.
The stinging nettles will defy us and wild cattle have no trust,
and there’s the chance of falling limbs from just a gentle gust,
so now you see when fishing here upon the pristine forest floor,
we didn’t need the added bonus of someone enforcing law.
We never heard this fellow coming so of course he had us flat,
and without a fishing licence we were squarely on the mat.
He was rude and arrogant; worse than the terrors of the bush,
and the way he talked he darn near earnt an answer in the ‘moosh’.
But while booking us upon the spot by writing what we said,
he’s having trouble with the bush flies that buzzed around his head.
Then he spoke with words aside, “By Jove the flies are bad!”
“Yeah” I said, “Those circle flies can sometimes drive you mad”.
“Circle flies!” His pen went still. “Why do you call them circle flies?”
Then I knew I had the mongrel by the glazed look in his eyes …
I said that they’re a farming fly not usually found out in this place
for they circle ‘round a horses backside - you should have seen his face!
He dropped his pen and glared at me; his hackles raised no end,
“Are you calling me a horse’s backside?” That forced me to defend,
“No fear I’m not!” Was my reply and then I stared into his eyes,
“But I suppose you must agree - we can’t fool the circle flies”.
Compartmentalization, as a curse is looming large,
As men in toto are fragmented into groups or sects
On grounds of caste, creed, sex or political affiliations
Branding some as powerful or weak or the corn and the chaff
Men or women, black or white, they are one,
And should be treated alike, without any scorn.
While men hold the sceptre of power, women stay marginalized.
Under their chauvinistic hold, they often get suffocated.
East or West, women are greatly stressed.
Concede it or not, they are beguiled n' oppressed.
For women of the East, it has been far tougher for centuries.
In some places, a girl child even struggles to be born.
The mother’s womb can turn her sepulchre.
Once born, no guarantee for survival
Fate like a haunting falcon with claws sharp and eyes intent,
Targets and preys on her.
Like a piece of organic garbage,
Unscrupulous hands may hurl her to the bin,
Or is bundled and cast on railway tracks,
Or discarded on crowded platforms!
If she out lives this, still vultures may circle round,
To feed on her flesh, raw and red.
No oracle or miracle, could ever change her life
None knows what awaits her or what’s her fate
Amid these daunting odds, she grabs life’s better moments
Raise happy kids, keep the family intact
Stick to the wedlock, be it a loop or a lock
Like a balanced acrobat, she does the tight rope walk
For the storms that rage without, to her, is less insidious.
Rarely is she tossed by the unseasonal blizzards.
A society progresses where walls are crushed down
Where all segregations are lifted and unity prevails
And men and women, the rich and the poor
Live and work in tandem, respecting one another!
In the cosmic dance,
where stars collide,
Galaxies spiral,
and planets ride.
Saturn’s rings shimmer,
Jupiter’s dim,
Moons circle round,
a celestial hymn.
From quasars’ crescendo to pulsars’ beat
Cycles in cycles take form and retreat
Superstrings vibrate,
harmonies entwine,
From dust comes life,
Is there a design?
Supernovae explode,
Notes of awe,
Dust fields condense
To a nebula claw.
Mass bends space
Took Einstein to learn
But space guides mass
Both take their turn.
From quarks to quasars,
Our scale in between,
We know we exist,
but what does it mean?
Personality traits combine to make you
Like notes combine to make melodies ring true.
Can you hold the tune through the rise and fall?
Through the noise and the smoke, can you stand tall?
This poem you read now,
complex inside your brain
simultaneous patterns
a disciplined flame.
Minds model dynamics,
Our neurons fire,
a strange attractor
assembling a choir.
Our genes express patterns, recursively repeat
Make diagnostic music, a remarkable feat
if cancer lurks, the music hits a false chord,
And tunes affect gene expression, a joke by the Lord.
Between order and chaos,
Our thoughts arise
Each man a universe
Don't waste the lives.
Will the universe end, entropy reign,
Shall all come to naught, in silence remain?
A stacked game, no way to win
Nothing left, no judge of virtue or sin?
When all flattens out, was it worth all the scheming?
Was sound at the end more important than meaning?
Maybe all you can do,
before that final hush,
is take life in both hands,
don't think too much, feel the rush.
Journey Journal Page
HYMN AND PSALM
By Leon Enriquez
Here we now pray
Fond hymn and psalm
Upon the way
In surreal calm
Now soul and heart
Join body-mind
As breath feels art
In touch divine
~~~~~~~~~
Blessings now bind
Our lore and lease
With sublime find
Of fragrant peace
Bliss funds our lore
With ancient cast
As timeless shores
As rapture lasts
~~~~~~~~~
Here sage and fool
Invest the stage
With sanguine spools
From age to age
The way back Home
Comes on the road
Where we now roam
As beauty loads
~~~~~~~~~
Feel fiesta groom
Our happy craze
In floral blooms
That dazzle daze
For we can pray
With vibrant tones
Where stillness stays
Our heartfelt drone
~~~~~~~~~
The hymn we sing
Comes from the heart
As soul now wings
Fine mindful art
The way shows how
To pray and act
Right Here and Now
With humble tact
~~~~~~~~~
In time we trace
Our lovely fest
To know our place
With zeal and zest
The journey sums
The way life grooms
Our fond outcomes
As blessings bloom
~~~~~~~~~
Love is the way
Faith knows touch dear
Hope greets each play
Joy fashions cheer
Upon the way
We circle round
To sketch each play
On sacred grounds
~~~~~~~~~
In happy glimpse
The journey fair
In gracious theme
Love airs fine flair
Beyond we sail
As waters grip
Truth thus avails
Our festive trip
~~~~~~~~~
Love anchors cheer
With placid form
Truth draws heart near
In subtle norm
Stern hymn and psalm
Now echo poise
Soul mellows calm
In vibrant voice
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
11 January 2024
Singapore
The Circle --- A Painting By Frida Kahlo
~~~
Caught between one life and another
my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon
I am crumbling into fragments
like a fragile leaf, played with by the wind
O' dark angel of the night
You've slashed your talons across my life
You have pounced, without a care...
declaring my flesh and bone your own
I only hear you in the silence of despair....
My world is now this moment that does not move
O furtuna, sternit fortem
O furtuna, rota tu volubillis
Never was my life my own, never could it bend
A circle, round, I cannot be........but just a line that ends
Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem,
A leaf, no longer, on the tree
Reflecting then, upon a sky
I reach a hand upon my crown
and I feel of death instead
My heart shrivels dry, a blackened rose, ...
Do you feel my pain?
Why must the flame of life grow dim?
With hope you soothe me in your whim
To take it all away?
This wretchedness is black as tar,
I taste the bitter blood!
There's darkness hidden in the depth
of who I used to be
I am like a leaf, played with by the wind
Do not turn eyes away...!
Torment me not, with heartless lust....
as flesh turns into dust!
______________________________________________________________
Based on the Painting 'THE CIRCLE'
For Cyndi's Contest: "Women Who Paint --Frida Kahlo"
8/19/13
http://www.fridakahlofans.com/c0611.html The Circle
Translation
O furtuna, (O' fortune) Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)
Quod per sortem (since fate)