Long Contrasting Poems
Long Contrasting Poems. Below are the most popular long Contrasting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contrasting poems by poem length and keyword.
THE STONE WALL
I was loitering lone aimless in pathless wood
making way through thorny bush and wild weeds
where creeper secretes peculiar fluids.
Feral flowers flowing fine fragrance fresh.
Stunned to discover a stone wall covered in moss
and climber coiled getting wall as strong support.
An awkward structure, mismatched in verdant scenerio.
Surely the wall is the remains of some construction.
Might be a portion of boundary wall of a garden.
Might be a part of demolished building.
Whatever however once it stood rigid bold
watching noisy lively habitation.
Once well maintained, now in wreck and ruination
standing as sentinel in solitary wood.
Only witness of past habitats
presently adored and adorned
by moss and thorny climbers,
arousing curiosity of passer-by.
Stone wall standing shy embarrassed
finding itself misfit contrasting
rhythm and harmony of woody panorama.
10/10/20
' A Wall in The Woods ' Contest by craig cornish
ELEUTHEROMANIA
I suffered and recovered from depression;
but did not know I have an obsession
with freedom until I read Eleutheromania.
I thought I only have bouts of Beatlemania.
This great desire to be free started
when I was a child; but obstructed.
At seven, I did not know where to go,
so I decided to forget and forgo.
At eighteen, I ran away several times
for I did not know where I belong at times.
I always felt lost and just wanted to be free
from living with two contrasting families.
Soon enough life got more complicated.
Married twice and divorces contemplated.
Freeing myself from an insecure jealous guy
and an alcoholic, to both I said good bye.
11/17/20 Pick-A-Title, Vol 25 - Rhyme 2 Poetry Edward Ibeh
Far from home in warfront a soldier dies
His son a soldier receives the body
Decorated with national honors.
Mother’s arms around her son
Her head reposed on his chest
Finds the support she needs.
The sleepless eyes closed
Dry tear drops in the corner
And on the disheveled eyelashes
Encase the grief and the loss of her husband.
The listless lips pursed
Faintly curved in contours of trust
Define the pride and the love for her son.
On the face of contrasting duality
Petrified emotions of a widow and a mother
Converge in hope of continuity
Of seeing the departed enclosed in her arms
Of transplanting the past to the present.
February 21, 2018.
Proms linger in promised rings.
I gave you love in a band and
On your hand my love sings.On
Forever a song in my heart for you.
In a dress to the floor, red ribbons too.
I remember you.....
I remember you too.....
Walking through the door I saw.
Handsome in your pants and a bow tied two
little knots in your chest just under the vest
ribbon of rose buds nestled in trio.
Is this real?
I remember the car it was black,
driving fast destination on track,
shattered window after we got back.
Time worP pulling fast at my eyes,
Black JackET I can still see you cry.ing
Promise made at the prime of our lives.
Given faith to the day you're my wife.
Waiting here I have been for my life.Time.
Writing square with my pen for your ear,
Circles into bubbles so you hear, how I care.
My Love singing in the air. Everywhere.
I'm Write Here~
~True~
~I Am To Hear~
~Love.Is.You~
PeAce.
tri·o (tr)
n. pl. tri·os
1. Music
a. A composition for three voices or three instruments.
b. A group of three singers or three instrumentalists.
c. The middle, contrasting section of a minuet, scherzo, march, or various other forms.
2. A group of three.
Wiki
Noun 1. deuce-acedeuce-ace - the cardinal number that is the sum of one and one and one
tercet, ternary, ternion, terzetto, three, threesome, trey, triad, trine, trinity, trio,
triplet, 3, III, leash, troika, tierce
digit, figure - one of the elements that collectively form a system of numeration; "0 and
1 are digits"
http://www.thefreedictionary.com/trinity
n. pl. trin·i·ties
1. A group consisting of three closely related members. Also called triunity.
2. Trinity Theology In most Christian faiths, the union of three divine persons, the
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in one God. Also called Trine.
3. Trinity Trinity Sunday.
Poem as depicted here.
___________________________________________________________
CIRCUMLOCUTION was inspired by the poem, Him & Her Intersection, by Brian Bilston. In the 2015 Great British Write Off, he won the poetry prize for this poem disguised in a Venn diagram. My interpretation of the intersection poem scans differently to his as the intersected part is to be read in a loop, as suggested by the title.
The Venn diagram poem is an interesting intersecting visual poem written inside a two-circle Venn diagram.
It could be written on any subject where a contrasting viewpoint is key to a successful intersection poem. The idea is for the two outer sections (the opposing views) to be read independently taking the intersection into account, for example, xxxxxxxx X / X xxxxxx (the lines don’t have to be of an equal length.) This intersected piece ‘X’ should flow in a logical statement from top to bottom—I aimed for imagistic prose.
the awareness
The awareness into that darkness crying
Is that esteem
You a charisma
Once upon a midnight pedigree
And so I screamed, 'Is that a esteem?'
While I pondered, happy and midstream
Free choice, you’re in free will
We (I’ve) all chosen sin
Reputation
In my reputation, I’ve been cleansed and forgiven
Reputation
Once upon a midnight pedigree
And so I screamed, 'Is that a esteem?'
While I pondered, happy and midstream
Reputation
Dirty and whole sleeping
I awoke and flung out seedy tradition
my spirit, I could not awaken
I am shorn of my repetition
Remembering many dishonorable, unfair inspirations
Demons dance, 'Mind adding mathematician!'
Somewhat louder than the composition
Screaming for forgiveness, more
in there stepped an enthusiastic echo
deep into darkness contrasting
The awareness
The awareness into that darkness crying
Is that esteem though, sinful now spirit freed I’m confessing
Now a blessing with a cleaned up …
Reputation
7/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Ebullient ecstasy cascades carefree
in the winding valley of the teeming time,
changes the tenuous tenor with the reflection
of the chromatic sky in the overflowing palette,
painting the proclivity parchment
with the hues of delighted dawn and dulcet dusk.
On the sensuous convivial canvas of unification,
the emotive artist draws converging contours,
paints the poignant panorama of sensitivity,
where the diverse psychic elements mingle,
perceiving the vibrant essence so long ignored.
Life then turns into the epitome of euphoria.
The mystique miasma of transcendent trance
envelops within the innate mental mantle
the merging perceptions of righteousness,
the contrasting cascade of intuitive persona,
passing through the changing channels carved
in the shifting sands of the stimulating time.
With the multicolored sensory strands
of the possessive passion pervasive,
the mesmerized mind intertwines introspectively
the frail filaments of faith to form
the mental motif shrouding things dismally distant.
Life then turns into the essence of emotion.
As the anastomosing river flows fervent
with the dislodged sediments of the denuded banks,
meets the seamless sea in the timeless terrain,
the mariner mind sails benign with the flow of rapture,
deposits the debris of the wrecked wasteland.
Life then turns into the confluence of consciousness.
the ivory sun
is
the
harbinger of rain and tears,
awakening the sleeping
streaks of gold and sage,
to rise and rage
in sakura s i l e n c e,
as the sound of
d r i z z l i n g diamonds
reminds me to reminisce,
how you and I
danced to the
blissful beats
of electro-pop,
oblivious to the
fluorescent fogs
blinding the morning
stars,
singing in
contrasting cadence,
the chorus
of youth,
where innocence
plays hide and seek
with the demons
hiding in the corners
of fragile conscience.
sometimes
I fear the seconds,
crawling in slow motion,
too afraid to let go
of the grief
nestling
in my heart
as a poetic memento
of how I’ve
known the synonyms
of trust
and tranquility,
amidst the childhood tremors
that tangled
my inner peace
into knots of
dreariness.
tonight I rejoice~
raising a
rose-tinted glass
of
moonbeams
to celebrate
another sunflower dawn,
adorned with
mellifluous memoirs
of us,
a friendship
woven into
the spine of
galactic supernovae,
where your
laughter reverberates
across the sizzling skyline,
like music
to the wind and waves
of angels,
residing
with hyacinth halcyons,
engrossed
in the picturesque
presence of
your
pristine utopia,
where love still flows
like a river untouched
by the seasonal storms.
so, in this
w o r l d of woes and throes,
let me be
an echo
of your ink and blood,
for I still
breathe the petrichor,
petals of p e a c e
thriving
in the
meadows of mourning,
as your tender name
is the
crystalline cue
urging my muse
to
praise the
mystical musk
of graceful magnolia
that lingers
in
starry stillness...
Relatives hanging out of every orifice, window, ledge, and lawn chair
Hands out, the two starving children beg as people walk by, ignoring them.
In Great-grandma McCormick’s teeny tiny farm house, during family reunion.
No more bowls of rice, no more bread, there is nothing left. Hunger sets.
Laughter wafts from the barn, behind the shed, and especially the kitchen.
Their mother hung on as long as she could, but she died of flu yesterday.
Too many women are in there, some wearing aprons, all of them in the way.
Those who took their mother’s body away left her two small children, knowing.
The men are hiding out in the pasture, barn, beside tractors, sharing stories.
They had their own unfed waifs, they could not worry about these two.
Sixteen kinds of pies and two cakes are trying to find a place on a shelf.
It is expected they will die soon. They probably will be gone by morning.
Beef, pork, chicken and fish that prances in would feed three or four armies.
Two urchins are resilient and refuse to die easily; they are alive the next day.
My multicolored garden has such a sunny outlook,
Like the fleeing dawn shadows daylight overtook.
Not minding the storms, they drink up the rain,
For veritable growth, often comes with some pain.
Windblown near a rose bush, is my marigold orange,
Contrasting with the scarlet, I'm always adoring!
And in noontide peace, trees seem to be napping,
In graceful emerald beauty, as fervor is sapping.
Lotus lily pond, of the deepest burgundy blooms,
Float softly upon water, trailing fragrant fumes!
Never complaining, always showing its best face,
Is my yellow dahlia, bringing cheer to anyplace!
Written on 3/22/2021
For: Enter the 'ALL YOURS (Mar 23)' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand