Long Coaxes Poems
Long Coaxes Poems. Below are the most popular long Coaxes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coaxes poems by poem length and keyword.
If
(inspired by Rudyard Kipling's Poem, If)
If I could relinquish all judging to Almighty God
Concerning myself on where my feet alone trod
Where my mind lounges
What my mood would convey
I believe I'd know peace of mind throughout the day
If I could be a sample ..fruit of wisdom heard
Regarding my brother's footsteps more intently than his word
If I could sow treasure when occasion coaxes me to intercede
I believe a flower would emerge from such a planted seed
If I could rebuke gossip and ignore the adulterous call
Still appreciate the lesson taught from shame-producing fall
If I could view the weakest one with mercy-coated eyes
I believe there'd be scant reason to don all disguise
If I could dispense love when hatred is due and never restrict the span
Surrender to patience when urge to explode is primed by fellowman
If I could persist in mending any mendable wrong
I believe I would know freedom as composer of the song
Dancing in time, bringing in the heartfelt holiday
Wafts of women in full traditional costume of Puerto Rico
Gyrating in the streets, teasing the crowd with their prowess
From old to young, they make their point in colorful garb.
Boy children and men standing around in the night
Pretending not to notice the wafts of women who are now singing
Adding so much rhythm and joy, everything feels new and fresh.
If there was ever a prettier sight, I cannot fathom it.
When the band stops playing, the crowd coaxes it to keep going.
So the violins and guitars are picked back up for two additional songs.
It is a memory I am fond of, one that pops up when I need her.
The day I danced in the street in Puerto Rico! Nothing better.
She eases into the stillness,
lamplight gathering softly at her arms,
a gentle warmth settling over her
like a shawl laid down by evening itself.
Her shoulders ease, unburdened,
as the glow coaxes the hours
to loosen their hold at last.
The needle glints softly~
a slim sliver of silver light,
moon-fine and obedient,
resting between her steady fingers.
The room is still.
Wallpaper fades into amber,
shadows gather politely
along the baseboards,
and the chair beneath her
creaks in a language
only she and time understand.
The world outside is dark, almost bleak,
but here~
here the lamplight makes a sanctuary
of small things:
the curve of her wrist,
the soft fall of fabric,
the quiet devotion
of mending that which can be mended.
I can almost smell the warmness
of linen, dust, and a hint of lavender~
the scent of evenings
when nothing urgent calls,
and the simple act of sewing
becomes a way of keeping
the world stitched together.
and Mother needed the comfort
of being held
in its gentle, golden reach.
my curiosity coaxes me into sneaking in
to this cubbyhole built under an old robust tree
a rumor I heard, there’s a clandestine
so, I peep through its small and dusty window pane
I widely open my eyes as I could
while I’m surreptitiously gazing inside this empty room
the only thing I see is a barricade of wood
Oh, I think, playing hide and sick in there is still good
as I go around to find if there’s a small door
to my dismay, it’s locked with a rusty knob
then, I find another small window on the other wall
on big branch of the tree, I clamber to view the whole
watching all over again the void inside
shadows begin to appear behind the wooden bar
as they accrue, my braided hair rise up on both sides
for a high jump, I prepare my legs while thinking where to hide
their ears likely found on top of their nose in shape of cone
so creepy things they are, I’m so scared but I must know
are they giants or dwarfs who’ll give me their magic stones
or a black lady to transform to white and lurks me with her bones
while my whole body is reverberated with numbness
I hold on to the small branch of a tree with a glued grip
suddenly, a mother cat with her five lovely kittens
coming out buffing their fur softly with tenderness
March 31, 2013
Note to the contest sponsor:
My dear friend Seren, I’ve seen your blog before but I’m so sorry if I was not able to leave a comment because of time constraint. However, I vividly remember the picture because it was truly beautiful. I’m pretty sure it was one of your awesome paintings. You’re a very talented artist/painter and I was inspired to write a poem today for that beautiful paintings of yours. Thank you so much for sharing!
Fourth Place
Contest: What Lurks Within
Judged: 4/7/2013
Sponsor: Poet Seren Roberts
THE SUN WILL SHINE AGAIN
When fear comes visiting
Like a secret lover from the shadows,
My heart welcomes her looney tunes
To my desolate cathedral -
Familiar stranger,
In motley congregation.
My dreams scream like dirty wounds
On arduous thorny grounds;
Fright takes hold in feeble space,
Fear smiles in gruesome glee,
Echoes of doubt stifle
My wailing heart in grisly dread.
I turn to _Elédùmarè_ for guidance,
He sends _Ifá_ for comfort -
Whose corpus coaxes
in subtle motifs.
I hear the cock crow...
_Ku`ku`ru´u`ku!_
It's a new dawn.
(One of my #TAP4 entries)
Published in "Echoes from the Savannah" © Makinde Adebayo Adeniyi,2024
Ode to Joy
by Friedrich Schiller
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Joy, bright spark of divinity,
Daughter of Elysium,
lit by the fire You inspire,
we enter Your immaculate home!
Here we’re bound by strong enchantments;
nevermore may custom divide;
every man becomes a brother
where Your gentle wings abide.
Whoever has achieved the prize
of abiding friendship, warm and free,
whoever has a loving wife,
join us in this Jubilee!
All who have at least one friend,
join us in our song of praise!
But he who never helped a friend
must leave in tears this song we raise.
Every creature drinks of joy
flowing from kind nature's breasts;
just and unjust, each requires,
all alike, to taste her gifts.
Earth bestows vines’ wine and kisses,
and when we face a friend’s sad end,
though the worms must have their feast,
still the gentle Cherubs attend.
Joy commands the tensioned mainspring
of the clockwork universe;
Joy, oh Joy!, the wheel revolves
through the arcs our lives rehearse.
She coaxes buds from newborn flowers,
suns from distances supreme,
she rotates spheres through vast expanses
the human eye cannot discern.
True friends stay true unto the end
and even the worm must do its duty;
as the Cherub stands before God,
the heavens revolve in glorious beauty.
Then gladly, like those heavenly spheres
which He placed in the firmament,
brothers, you must run your race
like a hero bent on conquest.
From the Truth’s emblazoned mirror,
the searcher sees Her reflected smile,
and for all those who are girded in honor,
She continues to the last mile.
High on Faith's tall, sunlit mountains
Oh, see how fair Her banner flies!
Through the breach of opened coffins,
see how the Angels’ choirs rise!
Gods can never be requited,
suffice it, in their image, to be.
Grief has never won a battle,
so persevere with gaiety.
Hate and vengeance die forgotten,
but Love can woo a mortal foe;
though tender teardrops cannot touch him,
kindnesses may bring him low.
Rescue from the tyrant's fetters,
mercy to the villain mean,
hope for all in their dying hours,
pardon at the guillotine!
All the dead shall live in heaven!
Brothers, drink and all agree:
every sin shall be forgiven
and hell forever cease to be.
Amen!
"Two doves in white flying, feathers glow
beneath the morning's rainbow colors"
—Charles Messina
COLORS IN THE SKY
Resistance is fly, that is perceptive, sharp, a cataclysmic sight.*
Take off your blinders. Look up with keen eyesight. White
of your eyes bleed into the heavenly dye, bruising depression,
releasing joy - the jettison of a halo rainbow, procession
of flapping red, orange yellow & green, blue, indigo, violet waves.
One dove can fall, the other saves.
White of sin, covered in floaters and flashes, feathers torn.
All against thee: blinding lightning, hyperbaric scorn.
In a 4-G inverted dive, enmity strife.
Luxurious light coats the wings, coaxes life.
Hope abounds in resonance and rainbow-braves.**
Departed one falls…wait…Resurrected one saves.
Noah and his kin rebooted, three days out of the grave,
quick as a flood recedes, all of us waiting, still misbehave.
In mourning - will we savor his protection or invite dread?
The colors in the sky, blue as a savior’s eyes, or red?
12/6/2022
Contest: COLORS IN THE SKY
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
*fly - (adj) keen, artful
**braves - (adj) making a fine show, colorful
She has arrived! Everything is greening up in a delightful dance.
My mood is on volume high; every year it gets a little prancier.
I could not turn myself down a notch even if I wanted to, but why would I?
I am running on energy fumes left by the happy daffodils I spotted in the
otherwise ugly gray ditch this morning. She is here! Spring is here!
She always renews the yard and me with an enthusiastic wind that
rejuvenates us, and coaxes us to bloom and green and be our best.
Chirping cardinals greet Spring in a happy way, thrilled to see water again.
Their communal bath is loud today, they are exuberantly excited. Tiny lavender violets are winking at me from the foot of their bath.
I begin my wild woman soul chant to greet Spring as I dance around
the yard, in a loud, happy, skipping way.
“Yah Wah Lay Lay, Yah Yah, Lay. Yah Hey, Hey, Hey
Yah Wah!” I sing scream at the top of my lungs,
startling no forest creature, as they are all
chanting their own happy songs.
A jubilant rooster crow greets me from the back forty.
I am not the only one up, dancing
around, being puffed up.
A black streak of a pup runs past me. My dog who has acted comatose
all winter, is now a young pup, leaping six foot fences, barking like there is no tomorrow. The squirrels run as she leaps toward them.
Robins are hopping. Moths are back, the scouts of the butterflies. Soon we will have bees, and wasps, faeries, dragonflies, and grasshoppers.
I dance and chant and sing my way around the yard, marveling at what
has Spring has done overnight.
The meadow and the trees are smiling today, recognizing Spring.
Written: December 31, 2018 Contest: Jubilant Joy
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Daffodil majorettes lead the spring parade
Mom fox had lured out a reluctant kit
Verdant grasses are growing lovely shade
For dainty dulcet purple violet
Gentle nurturing rain from day or two
Coaxes her lace lilac to gently wake
Meadow rainbow chiffon a lovely hue.
Faerie-felt awe surrounds beautiful lake.
Carpet of tulips arrive on the scene.
Growth can be felt every hour or two.
Resurrection of weeds, not being mean.
Cyclical magic for me and for you.
The woodlands, the meadow, the lake and the dale.
Rebirth of spring yearly, without fail.
Written Feb 24, 2019
Contest: Springtime Rebirth
Sponsor: John Hamilton
I sit and listen with awe as the pianist coaxes
the most wondrous sounds from the beat up piano
his melodies flood out greeted by stunned silence
as people are transported into the visions he plays
The music soars filling the room
deepening and expanding
whispering of unseen things
of valley's, mountains and glens
the notes lead us into the glen
revealing the wondrous sights
of waterfall tinkling in time
to the most seductive beat
One can hear the birds singing
their notes blending so harmoniously
with the pianist's various moods
as he swings into blues and jazz
Yet still he plays on notes ringing out
telling oh so many fabulous stories
the silence of the audience says it all
he has transported us to another plane