Long Creatures Poems
Long Creatures Poems. Below are the most popular long Creatures by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creatures poems by poem length and keyword.
Beauty all around
As I amble through the meadow
The breeze of daybreak, oh so inviting
Whispering unfathomable secrets
Into my ears. The mist yonder suspends
In the air. A thing of wonder, a light
Passing through a prism
This meadow, akin to a forsaken garden
Punctuated with colorful weeds
Sunflowers and dandelions glow as bright
As fireflies; smiling and blowing kisses
In unison with the morning sun
Autumn woods dazzle with color
Blades of grass bending in the breeze
Ripples on a stream, and they dance
With devil-may-care abandon. As carefree
As aspen leaves moving in the slightest wind
This meadow, alive with creatures of nature. Somewhere...
A grasshopper is leaping to and fro
A butterfly is fluttering every which way
A hummingbird is hovering over a bloomed flower
A bumblebee is bothering a daisy
Birds perched in trees sing
Nature's love songs. A nightingale...
drips honey into my ears! Fallen leaves sigh
Birds seize the turquoise blue morning sky
Could this be nature at it's best?
Beauty all around
As I amble through the meadow
Nature, in her quiet wisdom, forever mirrors this reality, weaving it into the very fabric of existence. The sturdy oak tree, in a world of ever-shifting acclimate, adheres faithfully to its intrinsic nature; it does not yearn to be a weeping willow, but unfurls its gnarled branches to the sun with unyielding authenticity.
This steadfastness is its silent promise to the forest—providing shade, sustenance, and a home for countless creatures, never betraying its purpose. Just as a river, in beautiful obedience to the call of the sea, must follow its natural course without second-guessing the twists and turns, so too does the authentic self move through the world.
The river carves its path with honesty, and in that sincerity, it gives life to the valley, remaining true to its essential character. It cannot be false to the land around it because it is, above all, true to its own flowing essence.
Observe the moon, which in a celestial dance of trust, waxes and wanes through every phase—full, crescent, new—never hiding its current form or seeking to be anything other than what the moment demands. In its complete acceptance of its own cycle, it reliably governs the tides and lights the night sky for all the world to see.
Thus, the natural world stands as a living testament: When the seed blossoms into the flower it was always meant to be, its unique fragrance is a gift to every passerby. Its self-actualization is its contribution.
To be true to one's own self is not a selfish act. Still, the most profound act of generosity, for in the integrity of one's own being, a harmony is established that resonates outward, like ripples from a single, clear stone dropped into a still pond, touching everything around it with an unwavering, honest grace.
These days belong to snow and cold.
The leaden heart, the ashen skies
Conspire with the dark
That steals the hours daily
Settles us into unquiet peace.
Showing sense,
Creatures burrow down into their dens
Slip into their deathlike sleeps.
If we could, we'd follow them,
Down into our inner deeps
To dream away the darkness
'Til the first new leaf awakens, unfolding
To greet the first green day again.
But this is not our way,
So we walk, half conscious,
Treading lightly as we can;
Our Mother resting now,
This is the time to wait
The time to watch over her,
To stand sentinel beside her Consort,
That wildeyed one who fills the shadows,
Burns in blackness between the stars
That shine like ice in silent, absolute Command.
When the Christians hold their Candlemas
We'll light our tapers too.
Within ourselves and across the lands
The light will spread
As the neverending game of Life and Death,
Of Love and Loss,
Is taken up again.
The Wheel rolls on,
My Brethren, my Loves -
Even in the silent dark.
Whisper to one another the words you'll wish you'd said, later
One to another through the sleeping silence
'Til Imbolq comes, my Brethren,
'Til Imbolq comes, my Loves.
Here is a poem I posted on my Instagram account daisymeadows2023. Poetry prompts by POETS ISLAND and poem suggestion by @sabrinas-poems.
SPIDERS SONG
A silken Web has been spun,
A pattern of beauty,
Weaving and dancing has begun.
Of each delicate strand,
A tale unfolds,
Of creatures fate,
In the spiders hold!!
Such nimble legs,
Dancing with such grace,
Then hiding in the shadows,
Not showing their face.
A spiders song is bittersweet,
But such beautiful tapestry.
All unique!!
Each web has it's own mystery,
A spiders song,
Weaved in harmony, like a symphony!!
Nine Lives Removed From Royal Dig Nitty ©?ß
(alternately titled: lion eyes hide sharp claws)
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives a clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued into kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightening
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nick names)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humungous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Eskimos accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek) knew
practically every detail
incorporating trunk their lines
(and could track missing link,
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour.
“All creatures love in many ways-
and how they show it will amaze”.
_by Poet
Close to the glass, the mom lifted her up-
dressed in a yellow romper with bows
and wispy, blonde hair circling her head.
He then came closer to the glass
and sat intently facing her;
with his deep, dark eyes- yet with a gentle twinkle,
he looked calmly into her blue eyes.
She stared at him for a moment;
just a few inches apart- each from a different world.
And yet, he knew she was precious.
Quickly, he pressed his lips against the glass-
that showed her pink cheek on the other side.
With gentle love, the Gorilla lingered for a moment-
then offered her his sweet, silent kiss.
Vindictive and vicious is the night
as grim and gruesome shadows shroud
the light, an opaque cloud darkens the moon
as frightened creatures scurry at awful and annoying howls
finding cover int the bushes, or behind a monolith
in a a museum of the unseen
the heavens are fortunate now
As a prelude to the morning comes
to patronise the morning
sun, amazing is the light of dawn
delightful in its clarity, opening up to a new day
The victorious sun shines bright
taking pride in the strength of its rays
As an oval cloud rides the wind
----
7/14/16
I am comfortable with dogs, because they make me feel safe
Three of them guard me, sleeping around my head and hands.
My husband is also a comfort; I have known him for sixty-eight years.
Since we were four, it would be impossible to be uncomfortable with him.
I am a poet, an artist, a writer, a painter and a cartoonist.
I am comfortable with all of these monikers; they complete me.
When my children and grandchildren visit, I am totally at peace.
Comfortable with my life style, my life choices and my enchanted forest.
I live in an underground house in the woods, with two dog doors.
We have raccoons, skunk, fox, deer, turtles, snakes, and other creatures.
None have come into the dog door, but I am comfortable with them
My dogs will chase the woodland creatures out if they wander in.
You're the Reason,
A flash of light,
Happens upon conception,
Creating who you are,
That was a pretty big bang for a star like you.
Staring through two eyes,
Now observing your prize,
Time to rise and shine,
Truly you are Divine,
The signs are everywhere,
Become aware of where you are.
You've come pretty far,
Part of a whole projection,
A reflection of the source,
Plotting unique courses,
Enforcing the structure,
Forcing things to change,
You rearrange the world,
Move toward peace,
Release the past,
Blast through barriers,
You're the carriers of light,
Ignite your fire,
Rise higher to be seen,
Get in between the cracks,
Take that power back,
Lack is just a feeling,
I'm revealing abundance,
A fun dance with creation,
It's stationed within your mind,
Go inside to find more,
Explore the forgotten,
We've gotten used to settling,
Others meddling with the story,
Our history tells the tale,
The old ways continue to fail.
While we create money trails,
Earth wails for her surface,
Her creatures forgot their purpose,
Just to purchase things they want.
Flaunting their achievements,
A grievance I hold dear,
I fear what she may do.
So I leave this to remind you,
To be the Star of your show.
Grow into the role you play,
Stay present and aware,
People out there need to see,
A reason to be happy.
iron gates- swing open on rusty hinges
the day cold and windy
the cemetery vast
with rows and rows
of headstones
and massive stone crypts
the statues
weathered beautiful -
O, there is a beauty to behold
as trees bend in prayer
and all the roads cross
rough and cracked uneven with ruts
leaves brittle orange, brown and red crunching
beneath my meandering feet-
there are inscriptions too many to fathom
and creatures scurry birds sing songs
a trickling pond amongst the tombs
there are whispers do you hear them ?
a gnarled tree protects your rest
as a breeze tangles my long hair
and takes my tears -
O, such fathomless love has been lost
your memories
like daggers to my heart plunging
over and over again -
O, repose, repose and I
who forever weeps will never forget never forget
now, I place a kiss upon a wilted red rose
and leave you in peace . . .
________________________________ ____
July 01, 2022- Edit and Repost
Poetry/Free Verse/in memory
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1472-948-01
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Submitted to the Premiere contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon, Mile 7
sponsor, Mark Toney, Judged 07/15/2022
Sixth Place