Long Confers Poems
Long Confers Poems. Below are the most popular long Confers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confers poems by poem length and keyword.
Falling leaves
Paragraphs wind blown;
Telling a story
~~~~~~~~~
Two carrot cakes
Different recipes;
Delightful outcomes
~~~~~~~~~
House work calls
Busy with home work;
Fastidious hands
~~~~~~~~~
Watch what happens
Random rain wets;
Harsh heatwave irrigates
~~~~~~~~~
Yes once again
That time of year;
Haze adds colour
~~~~~~~~~
Geopolitics confers
Conflict confronts calm;
Uneasy peace
~~~~~~~~~
This great stretch
Sea and boundaries;
So many claims
~~~~~~~~~
Difficult choices
No middle path;
Fumble taking sides
~~~~~~~~~
So much here
Activity consigns;
Cash like ammo
~~~~~~~~~
Profound question:
Why ask why?
So many times
~~~~~~~~~
Cheery children
Play prunes prank;
Laughter frolics
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
09 April 2016
Singapore
Placed eighth in:
No. 1235 New Poem Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
The Flame of a Lamp
It`s
the
flame
of a lamp
ever bright
That guides
men to the path
that is always right,
Brightens the dark days
with its wide glowing light,
Restores coveted warmth during
the gloom of wanton wintry nights,
Bestows strength to meet the stressful
sturdy storms during the journey of life
And instills vigour to tide over our daily strife.
It is the flame that dispels the darkness of delusion
Clears away the greyish haze of all fruitless illusions,
Confers lasting peace to the knotty web of the mind
And steers men on our earth real happiness to find.
It is the the flame of the sacred eternal lamp
That bears the mark of the divine stamp
And draws its fuel from the azure sky,
From the Supreme Lord up high.
Let it for ever just shine bright
in the depth of our heart
until from life
we do depart
To melt in His
immensity
With FAITH
i n --- His
eternity.
I've found the muse deep in the dark of night.
It comes from the enormous universe.
I long for its hidden wisdom to write.
It brings the meaning in its sparkling light.
Every wordless thought turns into a verse.
I've found the muse deep in the dark of night.
From the moon, it completes a short smooth flight.
The knowledge it holds in silence confers.
I long for its hidden wisdom to write.
Its thoughts set each wandering line aright.
In poetry, I willingly immerse.
I've found the muse deep in the dark of night.
Where will I be without its lamp so bright?
Perhaps, the words would have gone unrehearsed.
I long for its hidden wisdom to write.
Composing becomes my purest delight.
In guiding, it doesn't need to rehearse.
I've found the muse deep in the dark of night.
I long for its hidden wisdom to write.
My father is now pitching the bottom of the ninth inning.
We need a few more tests to determine just how many outs he has left.
I had the opportunity this past weekend to visit him on the mound and ask him how
he was feeling.
“I still feel like I can get them out” he said, “I just wasn’t expecting Cancer to come
to the plate.”
Nobody was.
My mother has caught all nine innings and she still remains the receiver of this
battery.
One of the seven fielders behind him had to leave the game early and awaits him in
the great beyond.
We all wait anxiously for the scouting report to help us determine just how to attack
this batter as he steps up to the plate.
We may be able to throw fast balls and get him out with an operation.
Or, if he has spread out too far, curve balls, chemotherapy and radiation may be the
best approach.
Or, if he is too formidable, we may just need to intentionally walk him.
The test results will help us determine our plan of attack.
Regardless, however, my father has pitched a masterful game.
I tipped my hat to him as I returned back to Seattle while he confers with his
battery mate and waits for the test results.
All of his fans are now aware of the batter he faces and all have risen to their feet in
applause and gratitude for the way he has played the game.
I learned this game and much more from the old man.
I would consider myself a blessed man if I could manage to play it half as good as
he.
One thing I know – he will face this batter, be it his last or not, just like all the
others; with a smart ass grin on his face and the assured confidence that it is he
who is the better man in this struggle.
Go get him, Dad.
Regardless of the outcome, it is already known that you have won the game.
We couldn’t be any prouder of how you played it.
I am glad you get the chance to hear the standing ovation – you deserve it.
Groundhog day 2021 - Tuesday, February 2nd
Coincides with astronomy's cross-quarter day,
marking the midpoint between
winter solstice and spring equinox,
which will occur at 5:37 AM on
in Northern Hemisphere
Saturday, March 20.
Small consolation old man winter
spans fewest days
of all four seasons,
especially when massive nor'easter
predicted today January 31st, 2021
including within neck of woods
named Perkiomen Valley Pennsylvania.
Yours truly remembers
when spry Jack (hoar) Frost
(just yea high -
both arms stretched to sky)
came early, left late and bossed
vernal equinox
rattling barenaked branches
obviously inapropos
to budding friendship.
Now (courtesy global warming/ climate change)
mother nature experiences feeling strange
within valleys and atop many mountain range,
wherein goods traded away on stock exchange.
Fortunate concerning yours truly
versus daring to brave
inclement weather
getting stranded in the process
(possibly becoming gratefully dead)
risking life and limb venturing forth
amidst near whiteout conditions
creating debacle perilous and grave
shoveling snow lest he get buried
he can remain holed up
(in tandem with the missus)
snug as a bug in his mancave.
While nestled inside warm abode for awhile
(at least until temperature upwards doth dial
safely ensconced against elements (of style),
I stopped at metaphoric woods edge
trekking until... for no rhyme nor reason
the poetic metered equivalent,
viz another mile
then stopped for coffee break
burst of energy gave me cause to smile
fording imponderable stream of consciousness
impossible (airy) mission to dodge regarding
aforesaid daunting task to craft worthwhile
poetic endeavor to entertain anonymous readers
gleaning how one bard (with his shaky spear)
evokes fiction being snowbound
as if cast adrift within Siberian exile.
Straightaway I continue writing askew
aware how literary trademark modality
characteristic of Matthew
unwittingly indelibly embedded
analous to mine Caucasian
versus swarthy melanin hue
man automatically confers eligibility granting
innumerable known mighty opportunities
(privileged skin color - how unfair)
bigoted prejudices shade those,
either hashtagged as black, brown
naturally copper toned gentile and/or Jew.
Charm of Nature
So lovely are rainbow hues in the sky,
Nature`s masterpiece as the day goes by
As the clouds above mountains become shy
As light rain from heaven drips by and by;
So smooth are the whispers of the soft breeze
Blowing through the cluster of verdant trees,
So gentle the way spring wind sways the leaves
Amidst the sweet scent of honey from bees;
So enchanting are sparrows` mornings songs
As they hop from branch to branch all along,
As they cross forest trees where they belong
And flutter freely in the air day long;
So gorgeous is sunset on silent seas
That does bestow to the heart so much glee,
Confers to the mind feel of being free
And pervades the spirit with joyful spree;
So delightful is nature`s charm,
So vast is the stretch of its arm
Like a rainbow across the sky,
A stunning vista to the eye.
Awestruck in its grandeur, acquiescing to mystic of refulgence up high,
Exalted I feel, lauding designs iridescent, upon sapphire blue sky;
As I listen to birdsongs, reverberating missives of sensuous eventide,
Reminiscing in titillation of love, wishing you were here, by my side.
Rippling currents strum, rhythms of river rushing, burbling nearby,
When flocks of birds glide above, swooping and swirling, as they fly;
Where decaying-day dons amber dye, as it slows the reign of time,
Glinting aureate themes of twilight, blushing reveries of eve sublime.
Cotton clouds on opaline fabric, embellish crown of mountain peak,
As sunbeams waltz, with twirling leaves, playing hide-and-seek;
To music of whispers-soft, emanating from tender melodies of breeze,
In sync with mood of eve-romantic, dancing with the rustling trees.
Vying enlightenment of self-actualization, I lie in quietude, supine,
Harboring instincts of erudite mind, dwelling in teachings divine;
Subjugating thoughts unwise, as fuchsia tinges dot magenta skyline,
Where dream-scapes of you and I, on rosy arc of dusk entwine.
Beckoned by your presence-seductive, beaming an esoteric smile,
Your silhouette in yonder revels, flaunting allure of feelings fertile;
Where together we rejoice realms of stars, blissful under moonlight,
As, Venus, the goddess of love, confers upon us a romantic night.
Twilight downs the sun as dreams appear on the screen of sleep
Slips into the subconscious realm and trips a few fuses in slumber
Adapts and clears clutter and narrates and alters the story in kind
Strips and clips a mind full of sentience like an ad-blocking app
When dreams slip into a magical edition it proofreads my soul
In magic Morpheus tenders to soft renditions and rehearses
A new dawn for sanity’s sake and rearranges bedlam in silence
Ties new meaning to fake news and spins alignments afresh
Compounds and rearranges while the curtain slowly descends
A dress rehearsal in night gown patiently waits for the curtain
A sacred orange globe dances with ripples dissected by clouds
Ultramarine parades on the fading horizon of tangerine canvas
As the gatekeeper confers with clairvoyants and hobbling goblins
The mermaids charter the voyage with sea gulls and dolphin as they
Tie holy knots onto the tapestry of fabrication and spirited truths
Sometimes my aspirations and recollections call for clean slates
When charcoal rules anthracite waves draped in sombre veils
Or polychrome splashes beg to hold on to the palette forever
Sleep brushes over karma and vagaries and tames with a stroke
Of restful fortune in infinite renditions of what the future might hold
A life line appears on the horizon anchoring a courageous flare
Regardless of whether my journey explores a secret underworld
Or ships critique onto the blatantly obvious faults in the vessel
Poseidon pumps up the raft as tears and regrets rock the boat
Blows caution to the wind and advises to hold on for dear life
Neptune challenges his counterpart and weighs for good measure
Yet Atlantis refuses to sink and Nirvana sweeps the ocean’s floor
Phoenix gathers soaked ashes while jetsam jumps into the current
When the night parades its blessing the sun resets a new dawn
The moon watches over assorted memories baggage and hope
19th April 2020
The Greek Olympians sent one of their own
To live among the peasants in a pastoral setting
Punishment for past transgressions with mortals alone.
O she thought there must be some mistake.
When she saw the rolling hills and fields covered with flowers
The grazing sheep at peace among the olive groves and vineyards
Bursting with life and energy in a symphony of love and music
A pastoral beauty the envy of every mortal and semi-deity, awake.
But soon she began to beg for mercy, begged for a release
From the incredible creatures who lived there, worse than beast,
Worse than the invasive weeds they violently try to kill,
Hungry ghosts or demons she thought from Hell.
And she begged to return to Olympus before they destroyed her,
Or killed her in their savage raging senselessness and ignorant weight,
In their spiteful vengeance and moral depravity and falsity,
Descending into brutality, transgressing all civil decency and restraint.
With scheming nastiness too heavy to even try to understand,
Surrounded by niggardliness and suspicion in an incomparable generous land
Incomprehensible ferocious jealously unheard of anywhere she had ever been,
Biting sarcasm beyond anything she has ever seen.
They even ridiculed her beauty and divinity.
She begged for deliverance from their filth and spite and ignorance,
From their gluttony and violence, which made the pastoral landscape
Become something quite disgusting, transforming her view of it into a rape
An intolerable nightmare of perverse selfishness seen through their sin.
Then she knew why she had been sent to this ruined Paradise,
The visual vestiges of Eden, turned into a veritable human hell
So, in the infernal heat of a passing summer, which seemed an eternal spell,
She began to see the consequences of sin, and repented for hers.
The Olympians’ divine purpose had been well served and she confers.
Written: October 06, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While the globe in the morning awakes
The first light of day, a gentle break,
Illuminating the earth's vast expanse,
Unveiling nature's first enchanting dance.
The first gleam of fall leaves, a staggering sight
Painting the landscape with colors bright,
A symphony of reds, oranges, and golds,
A tapestry of beauty that never grows old.
On tea, aged texts, and candles, wake at a touch,
A sensory embrace that means so much.
The aroma of steeped leaves, rich and warm,
Whispering secrets of comfort and charm.
Era books beckon with their weathered spines,
Inviting us into tales of different times.
Their worn pages hold stories untold,
Waiting to be discovered, to unfold.
Candles flicker, casting a soft glow,
Creating a sanctuary, a haven below.
Their dancing flames illuminate the room,
Creating an atmosphere of warmth and gloom.
In this dawn, a tale is woven,
Of cozy moments, sweetly chosen.
Whispers in the air, akin to a gentle breeze,
Carrying the essence of tranquility and ease.
As the day begins and the world stirs,
We embrace the beauty that nature confers.
With every sip of tea, every page we turn,
We find solace in the lessons we learn.