Long Creates Poems
Long Creates Poems. Below are the most popular long Creates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creates poems by poem length and keyword.
He moves quickly through the underbrush
I follow close behind, pushing
Briars cautiously with a hand prepared
To let go hastily and a throat
Holding onto a shudder in response
To the graze of the briar against
Soft, naked skin
He pulls bare branches back,
Threading his way through the pines,
Oaks, birch and different trees
Who sit waiting the first sunlight beam
Of a morning breaking through the night
Delighting in the flickers of life
Birds chirping, honeybees buzzing,
Deer and rabbit scurrying back toward
Their havens, dens awaiting
Leaves crunch softly beneath our feet
In the heart of the forest where
Silence is never as silent as it seems
He keeps moving and I keep following
Listening to the soft whisper
Of a mountain wood coming alive
I break free from his heavy step
Begin to follow the trail of a doe who must
Be going back to her fawn
And look closely for the signs of life
That cling to the dew covered vines and wild flowers
As they grace the edge of the woods
With lavender breath and a crimson caress
Creating beauty amid the jungle of emerald sighing
Softly, like a trace of joy embracing
The colorful nirvana of a realm that relieves
Hearts of their suffering and minds
Of their anxieties, creates a sphere of bliss
Where only God has the ability to grace its perimeters
With gentle hope that warms the heart
And soothes the spirit
He is with me, but up ahead of me
Where I have yet to see
And I hear it – the lifting of the gun
The cocking is quick and it remains to be seen
If it was my step or the raising of the barrel
That caused the stag to lunge forward
Free from the freezer
Free from death
Free for now
Hunting brings me the assurance
That there are still treasures untold
Within the heart of these mountain trails
Where God’s creatures remind us all
God blesses each one
With a purpose
A function
A aim
So many people suffer
as they condemn others with extreme hate
raping hearts violently shredding inner purity
inside deep council cries as ugly visions hurt
tainted with nightshades
unforgiving it creates wars
through such ugly bitterness
Twisted within a dark fork
judgement overpowers emotions
killing without mercy love and divine beauty
A human virtue turned upside down
in this world we all know our hearts plea
In what is right and what is wrong
Yet we turn a blind eye ignoring the truth
ignorance plays its roll
as our soul is colorless
we all bleed tears falling pain inside heartache
raindrops of a deep hurt remains
holding love as the most precious pure gift
undying beauty will always remain beautiful
Line of inquiry;
"I Am, as I Am complete,
Though ego opines otherwise;
Invoking grace we feel God’s heartbeat.
What else does there remain for us to realize ?"
~~~
It has taken me years, years to find my I am,
ego slightly inflated and full of I want:
At times losing all control of ego within,
for she is hungry, arrogant, she has no soul;
like the iceberg metaphor she wants more, more, more.
Don't misunderstand me having ego is good,
it can be healthy, giving confidence and pride:
But, too much creates a person who needs praise, praise,
a greedy ego makes you feel perfect, flawless;
with no concern for others, rigid, negative.
Now, I look to God for all my needs in this life,
he knows what is best for me and gives me his grace:
Within, greed of ego is replaced with a peace.
and acceptance of what is, a love of doing;
there is no need to win first or to top the list.
My wish for you is that you surrender ego,
but keep a little, fill your within with good thoughts:
No want, hurt, or jealousy, just love of doing,
tame that ego, feed your soul each day with helping;
be gentle, be humble, be forgiving, be love.
“Nature’s rhapsody waves spread
pearls of joy on the quiet shore of soul.” – By Poet
The whistling breeze of the beguiling spring
shimmers the aura the ripples of ether bring.
Freedom cascades with the ecstasy cadence,
the soaring birds carry on their wings of renascence
to the soundless height where they fly
in the seamless cerulean sky.
Looking up enchanted and engrossed intent,
I’m swathed by nature’s rhapsody wave silent,
swaying me on the swells of solitude,
suffusing me with the fervor renewed,
and with the sense of fulfillment,
the joy of living creates with content.
My mind echoes placidly with finesse
the mystique music of soothing calmness.
Tranquility flows in my serene mindscape
with the stream of rapture agape,
carries my soul away from the whirlpool of strife,
as I swim quiescent in the calm river called life.
Barter of goods was before gold or paper before electronic
Transfers of the digit inflaters..How are dots and numbers
Balanced and checked? How many hyphens will i need for
A floor? How many dots to create a strong door? or a ship
Or a boat? Could i have one in gold? I've heard there are Some of timber?
Or is that concept too old? If I had ten cows, and some
Goats i could swap.? I would gather some fish, trade some out keep some back, fry some dry some
Trade some others, at the market on a table.' This way of
Enabling life to progress, predates any laws or even Legaleese, that creates quite a mess' the need of commoditys will allways be there.' It won't make any difference if you've blue or blond hair.' You still thrive with
Commerce, all the better if skills, are encouraged within
A community not so focused on ills.' It was there from the
Earliest knowledge of man, in fact they still trade commoditys i beleive, thats how things still stand' its before laws established, and its today, and beyond! drive
Your cattle to the market, trade your goods its still on.!
He wasn't as abrupt.
He placed the pens gently back in the cup
Her pen rolled on the floor a few feet away,
Her sly rudeness, brought before the light of day
He got up, picked it up, and approached her
Placing it back on her desk, where it lay,
Before she lost her composure.
Her lips pressed thin,
Keeping the words in,
That got her in this mess anyway
Our teacher was cruel;
She was old school
"Well, Malinda", she asked snarkily,
"What do we say?"
The girl looked up at him,
From her seat,
Then down and away
Her dress was pretty,
Her hair like spun golden
Sunrays.
She was charming;
She was witty,
She was sweet,
But not today.
She opened her mouth
As if to begrudge a thank you,
But broke out in tears
Rose like a sudden storm
And bluster'd away
He looked across to her
As she clicked the remote,
Watching her hazel irises shift
From channel to channel, adrift
Reflecting the tedium and bright colors—
Parades of political world-view mullers
And all the true crime one could see.
It creates such disparity
Between "truth" and reality.
The spun gold had turned
To fine gleaming silver thread.
He poked her belly
As they lay there on the quilted spread.
She gave him a playful look
That said, "You're dead."
Gasping for breath,
Being tickled to death,
He always knew they’d marry someday,
The cute way they’d bicker from the very first day.
He grabbed both her hands
And made his demands:
Pulling her close,
Nose to nose,
He proclaimed her prettier
Than even the prettiest rose.
He asked if she had any regret
About who she chose.
She said, "No, I loved you—
The day we met,"
Batted her eyes
And kissed his nose.
Written: August 23, 2023
Soup Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
______________________________________________________________
In the heart of the kitchen's lively domain,
Where pots and pans dance, a culinary chain
A simmering pot of soup takes center stage.
A recipe of flavors—an enticing page
With a flick of a wrist, the chef's hands command,
Creating a masterpiece, a dish that expands,
In the heart of the kitchen's lively domain,
Where creativity and passion—intertwine.
The shrimp is delicately placed in the pot.
As the chef's touch brings out the flavors sought,
A sprinkle of salt—a dash of spice,
Enhancing the soup—making it nice.
The aroma fills the air—a tantalizing scent,
Drawing in diners, their appetites bent.
Strong and briny, the flavors meld.
Creating a symphony, a story to be held.
But in this magic kitchen—a twist is at play.
For vegans and ketos, there's a feast on display.
Carnivores and herbivores unite with delight.
As the chef's expertise creates a dish that's just right.
No longer divided—by dietary choice,
In the heart of the kitchen, all can rejoice.
The vegan soup, a blend of vegetables and spices,
A burst of freshness—a taste that entices.
The keto option is filled with rich fats and protein.
A low-carb delight—a culinary dream
The carnivores indulge in a meaty delight.
Savoring every bite, their taste buds ignite.
In the heart of the kitchen—harmony reigns.
Where dietary boundaries—no longer constrain,
For the magic of flavors, the chef has found
A way to satisfy all, with culinary wonders abound.
So come, gather 'round, and taste the delight.
In the heart of the kitchen, where dreams bear flight
With soup as the centerpiece, a dish so divine,
In this culinary haven, there's something for every kind.
A dedication to Eileen Ghali
for her prolific production of
inspiring work
Willow Tree = Keyboard
And that’s your only clue
Hurricane Eileen - The Storm
As darkness drew nearer
Light falling to drearer
I knew, the night was a foul
The windows were slashed
By her white lightening blast
Down the chimney old windy did howl
By her orchestrates
He rattles the grates
Appears round each gap in the door
Then in comes her rain
Through cracked window pain
As I witness her latest downpour
How the storm fascinates
With the show she creates
And I sit here and watch her for free
Down on the plain
Taking the strain
She batters the gnarled willow tree
Great thunder clouds form
In the head of the storm
And magic arrives in her sky
Come rivers of rain
With nowhere to drain
The water, a flood, rises high
Then happens a lull
To recharge to the full
Takes time out to contemplate
To be cruel or be kind
She rampages her mind
And comes back, at double the rate
With a boom and a crack
Bursts silver from black
A crescendo of noise fills the ear
And the gnarled willow tree
Writhes in ecstasy
By the pulse of her wild atmosphere
Mixed shadows are cast
By her white lightening blast
Her soul, for a while, exposed
For a moment in time
All is in rhyme
Till her story she chooses to close
As her elements soar
They’re at large with a roar
For hours they’ll dance and they’ll play
Blows the hurricane
Driving her reign
Till had, fulfilment of stay
With her forces unleashed
Her passions released
The storm passes over to light
Once more she has shown
By the tantrum she’s sown
Her strength… her power… her MIGHT.
Form:
I remember the city
when it had to be plugged
into black handsets for distant listening.
Conical coral peaks rose up
from sky-blue shallows once -
right here under the entombing concrete.
Nothing grew in that place except heaps and hills.
This city is a garden we have made
out of fabricated conversations;
talk does that, it creates chaos then
it’s expressed the way a concrete reality needs to be poured
into a pre-determined shape to be defined.
Now cellular-phones are growing cellular reefs,
the city recycles these small abiotic words
into mulch and various pressed materials
that form roof gardens:
places where parrots have time to chatter
while evolving into dinosaurs.
When Thor struck his hammer
upon the flat ground on Earth
it was the pieces withstood the blow we named rock,
constructs we came to know as the mountains.
Even before that time
I crossed my fingers
wished I'd one day experience
...you.
I knew you before heavenly purity grew wings
before angels blessed hearts
invoking what we now know as love for our brethren .
I held you in the sphere of my understanding
as the lover I'd never meet but always carry
in the most cherished of my thoughts.
When Zeus handed me his quill and inkwell I knew
I would only use his gift for my inspired notes to you.
Though I was not blessed a poets words
like Robert Browning
he who took Elizabeth Barrett into his heart from the first time he read her
so I did with you.
Only laid blood on parchment
to declare the love you inspired in me.
Like a schoolboy's first kiss
was the day my eyes embraced the body of your work.
Before the first pine broke the ground, the first lark sang,
the first orchards rare enchanted the rainforests.
Before the first chameleon blended
into the multicoloured break of dawn.
Before infinite rows of wheat invitingly waved from the fields to greet Hera.
Before liquid rose to separate into
creeks, swamps, rivers, lakes with fish of all kinds
wasn't it me who rode the first seahorse just to make you smile.
Anything, all...
possible
with the swirl of a letter
the turn of a word.
I found an immense love tracking the shores of your fine poetry
always a chill that ran up my back.
No one.
No one!
Only you.
Your fine talent,
gifted,
honed
perfected...flaws and all...
moulds
sculpts,
breathes life into ordinary words,
creates poetry
owns me.
September 26 2016 MY