Long Consoled Poems
Long Consoled Poems. Below are the most popular long Consoled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consoled poems by poem length and keyword.
*When with closed eyes, in autumn’s eves of gold,
I lie back on soft grass and feel the sky's
remaining warmth that emanates from sun,
I think of all the beauty to unfold.
I open up my eyes. The sun has rolled
down in the sky. Now streaks of pink appear
which darken to a deep and purple hue,
for Mother Nature now is growing bold!
There is so much of glory to behold!
The mountains glow, but soon they will grow black.
No matter, at the end of autumn’s days,
God’s gifts by Mother Nature are extolled.
And yes, it won’t be long - it will grow cold,
but in December I will close my eyes
recalling this. . . and I will be consoled.
March 20, 2020
* My line 1 is the 4th quote given as an option to use in a contest
sponsored by Joseph May
Now used May 21 for John Hamilton's 'Your best poem 2020' Poetry Contest
Life is often painted in black and white
nothing darker do I fear
than the stygian plight of death.
My malaise is carried with unbearable weight
remembering each waking moment when
I didn't say "thank you" or "I love you."
Self-reproach is a penance I can never fulfill
because the dreadful thief of death
took you from me in the ebon reach of night.
I'm sick of hearing the meaningless words,
"You're lucky to be alive. Life is beautiful."
My life is a beautiful lie now that you're gone.
I'd give my life to find a way to you.
An alabaster portal is locked to me,
a pitiable wretched sinner.
If I were to paint it black would there be a chance
it would be blind to see who asks entrance?
But my fear of death...
keeps me from reaching into the pale to find you.
I cower in shame.
Damn my trembling hand that quivers and shakes,
for the portal denies my entrance.
My mind is an unassailable weapon against my will.
It paints in oils that are always blurred with kohl
and the agony inside of me will never be consoled.
Tumultuous time came unheralded
in my life that wandered in the wasteland.
When in the crushing clasp of suffering
my heart broke and writhed in pain,
I searched for the comfort of calm arms,
but found none to cling consoled.
Plunged in the stormy sea of agony,
I tried to swim through the dark night
to the safe shore afar not in sight.
I heard a voice from within tell me,
get detached from the delusive desire,
see hope dawn with the new sunrise.
My broken heart then grew wings,
flew free across the sunburst horizon
to the valley of blooming flowers,
where fragrance floated in spring air
under the cerulean serene sky,
that glistened on the grey of gloom.
In my tranquil mesmerized mind
the floral shower of beguiling bliss
drizzled with the cadence of ecstasy.
In the inner sanctum of sublime solitude
I sensed in the bud of essence the soul unfurls
piece by piece the petals of peace.
there was never any need
to sway from the bunkers
that evening the way the tall
pines swayed mastering
my innermost self to a tiny
craft beneath the woods
as night shattered the small
lantern resistance followed
far beyond what I needed
at the time of the entrance
gathering I remember being
consoled smitten from the bottom
of the calvary where haste had
bothered to intrude I catered
to your manhood even though
it had withered long before
the boots had entered I didn't
dare blink mine eyes wide shut
my ruby red lips trembled I
licked them in a brief attempt
to moisten them preventing
a cracked chafing effect biting
my bottom one merely drawing
blood tasting the rawness of fear
the red coats were leaving now
standing before me was her
in all her beauty in all her glory
America embracing my tiny form
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
Here’s a little checklist
If you think you’re getting old.
Check off fewer than a couple
And perhaps you’ll be consoled.
Are you losing hair or finding it
In places unexpected?
Do you crave a turtleneck
So extra skin goes undetected?
Do you need a nap by 4 p.m.
And doze by the TV?
Do you wake up nightly, several times,
Because you have to pee?
Does a cough or cold last weeks and weeks
While energy is lagging?
Do the wrinkles in the mirror
Make your spirits feel like sagging?
Do you read a book or see a film
And then cannot recall it?
Does technology require help
‘Cause you cannot install it?
If you’ve answered yes to most of these,
Then, sadly, you’re among
Those of us, including Dylan,
Who are not “forever young.”
My wish for Daniel is that he
will find forgiveness in his
heart so his time in pain ends.
My wish for Daniel is that one
day he finds comfort in God’s Word
and in the belief that he is not alone.
My wish for Daniel is that God’s
Angels keeps him safe in all that
he does and everywhere he goes.
My wish for Daniel is that he finds that
he is worthy, good, gentle, intelligent,
with a most beautiful soul.
My wish for Daniel is to create music
because when it comes from his sweet
heart he sings and plays like an angel.
My wish for Daniel is to delve further
into the arts, as he writes, draws, sings,
and plays instruments so beautifully.
My wish for Daniel is that he finds
a sincere, unconditional, genuine,
forever love in his life.
My wish for Daniel is that he
recognizes that he is a perfect
in God’s eyes always and forever.
My wish for Daniel is that he prays to
God whenever he feels lost or anxious
so that his thoughts remain peaceful.
My wish for Daniel is to keep his head
lifted up to the heavens so he clearly
sees God is watching over him.
My wish for Daniel is that he finds joy,
and a reason to smile everyday while
never giving up on his dreams.
My most significant wish for Daniel is that
he forgives my damaged character, but is
consoled by my trying to make amends.
My wish for Daniel is to know when I’m
no longer here I will continue to plead with
God that he only feels only peace and love.
Remember, Daniel you’re a precious miracle
from God and you will always be loved!
Love Mom
“Even after our corporeal form leaves, a letter speaks to us in a language so intimate, conveying pent up emotions so personalized that one cannot express through spoken words without causing embarrassment to the one thus divulging” ~ By Poet
It was like a cunning marauder,
That cancer sneaked into his healthy body.
After the initial shock, John got over it.
Then ensued a brave fight to restrict its advance.
But it ravaged his body inch by inch.
Stage four cancer took residency in his bones.
After thirteen months of incessant struggle
His invincible life came to a peaceful halt!
At the end of his funeral rites, his best friend
Showed himself up before the congregation.
In halting voice, he said he was on a task,
To read out a letter John had prepared.
Long before his death but had kept sealed until then.
Opening an envelope, with wavering hands
Like an envoy divinely ordained on a sacred mission
He took out the carefully folded sheets of paper.
The subdued murmur inside the spacious hall
Gave way to silent breathless anticipation.
'My dearest family and friends' the words ran,
'Long at last, I am at peace, absolutely at peace,
With no emails to check, no bills to pay,
No more deadlines to be worried over!
But unfortunately, no charming females in sight''
The words breathed his flamboyant humour,
With his trademark grace and copious dignity.
He led the audience through his life under death sentence.
He was thankful for the love and concern,
His friends and family had so profusely lavished on,
In his ailing days of agony and dejection.
That exceeded far more than what an ordinary man,
In the whole of his lifetime could accumulate!
The last part was a pronouncement of love,
On his beloved wife and his wonderful child,
Who stood by him in silent suffering by proxy,
With a plea to all to keep peace with one's soul.
Despite life's sham, drudgery, and shattered dreams!
The congregation silently dispersed, walking away,
Into a day of sunshine, greatly consoled and inspired!
Wouldst thou for me an air
upon thy tortoise lyre
play, and sing those words so fair
about the Isle of Tyre?
Within whose walls so grand,
there at bazaar would be
hangings made by weaver's hand,
and colored from the sea.
And ships of cedar made,
all crewed by seamen bold,
sailed to shores afar, to trade
for silk and spice and gold.
Consoled by sweet refrain,
I dwell in dreams of Tyre--
going home will e'er remain
my unfulfilled desire.
_______________
The ancient Phoenician city-state of Tyre, an island off the southern coast of Lebanon, was famous for its production of the prized Tyrian purple dye derived from the murex snails found in its waters. --WW
© 2018 Wayne Wysocki
It is eternally a mind-altering thought,
that of poetry's paradox in every moment born.
Its multicoloured wings spawn this age of floating ashes...
flashes of the other side of what awaits our words,
what awaits our hearts, a part of a whole different world.
Unfurled everyday upon our eager lips,
within our kisses and our wishes that sweep our souls
we are consoled...
By love in her paradoxical cloak,
invoked by love's deprive,
yet alive,
waiting willingly in the tears of our lover's cry.
I have beheld the world through my eyes,
in a moment's breath on either side,
where contrast ideas collide in a mind full of sky.
Where twinkling stars cast their gaze
and sunlit days turn to nights of rain.
We are captured by the frame of time.
The month of March has many moods;
its days are varied as she broods
which day is warm, which one is cold.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.
Some days she brings snow full and deep,
and others, like she's fast asleep;
with the warm sun, we are consoled.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.
She's stuck between two season's clime,
and so to each, she gives her time;
One fading soon, one to unfold.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.
So we are patient with her whims-
while Winter's ways she slowly trims,
till brand new April joins the fold.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.