Long Confetti Poems
Long Confetti Poems. Below are the most popular long Confetti by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confetti poems by poem length and keyword.
The flaming fire of desire, has consumed
me most of my revolutionary life.
And beyond, far, far beyond the
confines of being just a Mother and
dutiful wife.
It drove me out of Chicago on a
mad hunt, for a beautiful city to
do more than just exist in.
Somewhere, where I could contribute
to life and see a massive win!
I found that magical place, where
this became so wonderfully true!
A transformative place, wherein
integrity and telling truth was most
a pleasure-filled requisite to do.
I participated in both guest seminar
leader and trainer-to-be programs,too.
My life took a shift at that point
in time.
It was both demanding and spectacular.
Yet in a way, most gentle and kind.
I started living beyond friends and family.
Halted blaming world history for the way
things, "be!".
Waking people to get their hands on the
steering wheel of this,present life.
Developing programs to rid the world of
strife.
Never using illness as a way to manipulate
people.
My soul shines as bright as one on any sunny
church steeple!
San Francisco will always be very spiritual
to me.
It's the shiny, satiny ribbon on my life, based in
this century, in truth and integrity.
Poetry, for me, is but a minuscule beginning!
Humanity over government and confetti fears?
I would call that a most blessed winning!
Walking on the edge of the eternal, indeed!
To do so with alacrity, joy and speed!
"Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them
here and there: even the last flower is withered:
yet there is a beauty in decay. "
Quote by _Constance La France
Emerald greens surrender, to fiery crimson blaze,
Golden ochre dances, in the sunlight's gentle haze.
They flutter to the ground, like confetti from above,
A tender farewell, to the warmth they used to love.
Each leaf a fragile canvas, etched with life's embrace,
A testament to time, and nature's gentle grace.
The veins, like fragile rivers, carry memories of the past,
Whispering tales of seasons, in every breath they cast.
The sun, now lower in the sky, casts a golden hue,
Illuminating pathways where once green leaves grew.
They crinkle underfoot, like the pages of a book,
Revealing nature's secrets, if one dares to look.
The vibrant hues of life have faded,
Even the last flower is withered.
But amidst decay, a beauty paraded,
A solemn elegance, by time adorned.
Celebrate the beauty found in letting go,
Embrace the cycle of life, as seasons come and go.
In decay's embrace, we find a lesson wise,
That even in life's fading, beauty never truly dies,
6/9/2023
Writing challenge – D quote poetry contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
It smells rain, and gray blue clouds gets heavy
"I don't worry" - (kitten meowing complaining ) - "don't ask me"
Most cats hate water - unpleasant and ain't friendly
"I'm more than just ready", says Freddy
Kelly, Peggy, Eddie and I will splash water like confetti
When everyone is wet in to the skin, yummy time with jelly
.... but, when evening comes I will curl up with the cat Olley
06/09/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Free Verse or Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
photo 1
3rd place in the contest
Happy New Year
Celebrate the moment for our carriage is here
Climb aboard the future and ride without fear
Dance to the music as lyrics say cheer
Excitement is reigning the happy new year
Listen to the revelers who joyously dwell
Awaken spirit that knows happiness well
On this day filled with joy no one should fret
For curtains will rise as the stage has been set
Raise your glass to the evening so divine
Look above how gleefully stellar stars align
Getting poised to toast as new year arrives
Sprinkling celestial dust to bless earthly lives
Be ready to embrace gift of something new
Welcome new pastures to broaden your view
Change on the horizon is calling your name
As the new year starts a brand new game
Midnight has arrived as the ball begins to drop
Revelry has climaxed as champagne corks pop
Romance has witnessed a surge of ardent bliss
As new year drops confetti on an intimate kiss
January 1, 2018
Placed 1st: New Year Poetry Contest by Janice Canerdy
Placed 3rd: Strand #730 Poetry contest by Brian Strand
In the whisper of the wind, a secret's shared with me,
Through the rustling leaves of reds and golds and browns, a symphony.
Once green and vibrant, now sun-kissed, they dance and sway,
A delicate ballet against the canvas of the fading day.
They twirl, they twirl, on currents unseen,
A slow descent, a poignant parting from summer's warm scene.
Each leaf a tale, of days drenched in golden rays,
Now etched in the hues of a passing season's maze.
Some pirouette softly, to the earth's embrace,
Others spin wildly, in a more reckless grace.
They drift, they tumble, a colorful storm,
On the ground, a tapestry, nature's own norm.
A young boy, he gathers them, each a treasure trove,
His pockets heavy with the autumn's rich love.
He throws them to the sky, a confetti of the fall,
Each leaf a soft reminder, endings beautiful, after all.
The air now crisp, the sun dips low,
Casting long shadows, a gentle, melancholic glow.
The ground, a carpet of the season's spoils,
A testament to time's ceaseless toils.
In the leaves that fall, a beauty we find,
In the cycle of life, a peace of mind.
For even as they fade, their glory we see,
In the wind's whisper, the leaves' dance, and me.
Bang spectrum of Confetti start the celebration!
Rosy majorettes clad in brick red whistle thrice,
Golden tassel batons toss and fly, greets sky!
Her comrade increase the feat heat synchronization,
Thunder cheers flood alongside adding spice.
Beginning their flamboyant rhythm and blues sound
Are black and white drum and bugle epic vibrations.
Come in well coordinated act: all nice
Loud gigantic flowered covered floats in slow motion
Meatball, the big brown bear, pop and arise,
''Catching the Big one'', orange fish rolls down,
Sweet fragrance of roses afloat around.
Yellow haired boy from ''Sea of Surprises'', drown the frown.
Tempted eyes, ears, nose and feet in joyous heights!
(c)Olive Eloisa
11:45pm
June 26, 2014
Originally entitled: COLOURS for the contest Colours of Shadow Hamilton placed 4th.. :)
Note: Inspired by "Tournament of Roses Parade". During New Year's Time, me and my mom views this telecasted tournament.. :) I love the creativity and the great imagination of the rose float creators..:D!!! This is held annually in California, USA sponsored by Honda. How wonderful it is if this seen live.. :)! On my readings, each year there is a theme to inspire the creators. The first ever theme was about Patriotism, this year: "Dreams come True" and next year: "Inspiring Stories".
The children in their designer clothes giggle and chatter as they explore the gleaming play area of this pleasant place,
Whilst mums discuss the latest fashion at the same texting their friends about nothing in particular,
This is a safe and beautiful world of opportunity and prosperity, a world of advantage and plenty,
And yet, just a short distance across the hills is an unknown world which is so very, very different.
A cold northern wind bites into the soul as it drives down streets and buffets corners,
An ancient car splutters to life, coughs its way up a desolate street and wheezes to a halt at a red light,
Crumbling facades of once-elegant buildings shower concrete confetti onto those below,
High street shops used to hum to the tune of every trade but are now dominated by charity and emptiness.
This is a sadly familiar traditional world of stereotypes and deprivation,
Worn out people with life-weary looks trudge the streets of despair,
Once-working men with haunted faces and sunken eyes linger on street corners,
As women in well-worn clothes plod home carrying plastic bags of two-for-one brands.
In this place there is no colour, no current fashion, no smiles and no rosy future,
Just a sense of existing, toiling, surviving and heart-felt sadness,
The hopes and dreams of fresh-faced youth have been replaced with an acceptance of inevitable disappointment,
A melancholy aura pervades even on the sunniest of days.
As the edge of this place beckons the grey clouds of despair lift,
The manicured landscape of prosperity emerges on the horizon,
But to those in this place it is simply a mirage of bounty beyond their reach,
Society seems a facile whole with two worlds that we cruelly allow to coexist.
A busy Friday afternoon
Exploding plane, but not an exploding cigar, as days of fun have long since gone.
The Byzantine Empire never left Russia, either that or they were incapable of keeping secrets, and sober leaders
like Putin, appear to be a rarity.
Trump the chomp, has had his mug- shot taken he didn't look pleased, and we agree, it is not the done thing to treat a president this way piling on humiliations like it was confetti, but I think Trump should avoid flying until
We win the election again, the American voters are mad enough to let this happen.
Britain has got the Italian illness, changing prime minsters every so often and scandals are for all to see
A female MP, they try to fire and that ain't easy for the lady is no other than Nadine Dorries, who is very famous if not in the House of Commons, she stays away but get to keep the pay.
A man, a famous talk host, has died, his son tells us his father was suffering from “impostor syndrome, I know I have waited eighty years for the tap on my shoulder and someone telling me to go, return to the slum I came from, I think, a hazard worth paying for a better life like your own bedroom and to sit on a loo no other bums have sat on before.
Lunch this Friday was a long affair, the cafe was full and we waited a long time, I didn't mind, and observed
the Brazilian woman who is ten years older than her husband scolding her eighteen-year-old son, I hoped she didn't speak to her husband in this manner, he might think of his mother, which cannot be good for the sex life.
I wandered into Zig-Zag Zoo,
Where fluffa-phants juggled kangacoo stew.
A wiggle-whisk wolfie tap-danced on air,
And puffaroo ponies braided clouds with flair
A quiver-quack quonk wore polka-dot feet,
He waddled in circles to a bubblegum beat.
The glimmer-fox giggled, tail swirled like paint,
While bounce-back babbits fainted like saints
A spottle-nose rhinker played drums on a tree,
A sparkle-snout tigerfly buzzed up to me.
The hippo-whirl helix spun round like a top,
He zoomed past a frink-ferret doing belly-flop!
Snicker-snail serpents slid fast as a sneeze,
Their shells were like teacups, with curtains and keys.
A zebra-zab zebbit with wings made of chalk,
Drew rainbows mid-air while he moon-walked the walk
Then giggle-girafflings (only two inches tall)
Stacked fifty-three high and didn’t wobble at all!
A monko-bot dingo handed me a balloon,
It squeaked out a joke in a squealy cartoon:
“Why’d the zoodle-zoo chicken cross the vine?”
“To tickle the tiger-knight guarding the sign!”
The whole place went wild, confetti and cheer,
Every creature in motion, absurd and sincere
I laughed so unstoppable, breath whooshed right through,
And I swear half those critters laughed back at me too
Contest : Souper Suessy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Benjamin Bartley
Date: Dec. 6,2025
It falls with grace.
Metallic bawls hail the strength of zinc roofs.
At the mercy of the thatch,
Drops drip from needle points of skeletal
Palm fronds.
Particles of rain descend on thresholds
Among dewed terrains.
The petrichor befriends the atmosphere,
Caressing limpid warmth with floating cold.
Lightning, a white dancing Anaconda, races with speed,
Filling the tenebrous plains with lights of hope.
Troubled skies ululate through the power of thunder.
I always recline on that liquid voice!
Rainmakers cream their palms
And roast fresh leaves of
Epochal petals
Plucked from somnolent trees.
Bubbles, green and full of life, puke,
Filling up the mouths of burning woods.
Grey darkness suggests the pleasant wars of
May through October,
When distant wayward drops
Trickle before the deafening deluge.
I hail the blandishments of July
For the society of fattened yams and the
Worthy tendrils —festooned confetti of ceremonial
Harvests.
Droughts yawn in vain when the attitude of
Wet seasons befriends the skies,
Yielding fecund grimes that grace the soil.