Long Daintiness Poems
Long Daintiness Poems. Below are the most popular long Daintiness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daintiness poems by poem length and keyword.
Flawless Aster under Auspicious Cloud.
I find myself under an Auspicious cloud.
My sweet dreams overcome the flaws in disaster.
Smoothing away all my flaw's in my fear.
I slept under the star shape like an Aster.
Vanishing away the ugliness of my nightmares.
I awaken to a peaceful morning of tranquility.
In a fragrance path leading me to my own Dynasty.
I saw the solution that disabled the flaws of our unity.
Using myself perception of my abilities.
I am overwhelmed by the flawless gloom.
Accepting the careless ways of my responsibilities.
Surrounded by the human bloom.
I am cheerfully flowing out a perfectiveness of a glow.
My flaws have been cleansed and purified.
I joined the flowers of the radiant promising future.
To accomplished life in an auspicious way.
A flawless look into the obvious day.
A beautiful elegance in our harmonious way.
Unmarked in every soul with a purple ray.
Faultless, blameless, no need to beg and pray.
Unhurt like the beauty we find in the sky.
You hold me close with the whole feeling of love.
I am the Auspice in your eye.
Undamaged me with the atmosphere of your Aster wondrous sky.
Unharmed you stand in front of me.
I'm wild like an Aster flower in your hands so perfectly.
Smiles to the world full of flawlessness.
Like a diamond found in nature untouched and unbroken.
Spoken words clearly come out bless.
A star, two flowers, a cloud, an imaginable token.
Symbolizing the love with no weakness.
Impacted on kindness and daintiness.
Waking up to the the worlds of reality.
I turn around like the moon.
On my taste buds I flavored the blossom smell.
The brightness of a flawless day.
I brush the dust of my shoulders.
I have no anger to castaway.
I've earned no fault when it comes to reason.
Now it's time to comprehend to live in the new.
Forbid my self to dwell on the old.
Look into the beauty that our future world holds.
Close the vision that we only see things for its flaws.
Clear your mind to inner self of mortality.
Longing to see the Aster in the dark sky.
I own the impurity of my air to the Auspicious cloud.
To absolute revive the love of the things that are alive.
By: P.D.
Since early childhood I was aware of my sorroundings;
looking around with the interest of a grown-up man,
waiting for the golden sunrise with rosy streaks
to rise from beyond the Paterno Mountain...
to dazzle a southern boy with vivid dreams.
The clock-tower, in the Fallen Soldiers memorial square wreath-adorned,
stroke seven to announce the coming of a quite day
in a valley, where orange blossoms strongly perfumed
welcoming spring in all its daintiness and cheerfulness...
as shallows retuned home flying over pines groves covered with gray.
My chestnut-colored hair was gently brushed by a whimsical breeze,
spreading the scent of jasmine's bushes wilting down;
that's where robins took shelter when the summer sun
was at its hightest peak and trees glistened and swayed to please
a curious and adventurous southern boy with vivid dreams.
Ever wondered how I had gotten to be an elaborate poet in childhood days,
exploring everything to express myself in the most unique ways?
It was love of Nature and its splendor breathed in with appreciation
that made me who I am today, and wiping away the tears of golden age,
I feel the fanthom of my presence wandering down a silent lane swarmed with sage.
Night came with willowy shadows, carrying out their nocturanl task...
not to frighten me, but to bring the brilliance of gleaming stars so perfectly aligned;
and I dreamed with relief, knowing that there would be no endless wait
to be overwhelmed with a mystery only revealed to a child with vivid dreams.
I looked further above, beyond the stunning, starry sky as the brightest light shined.
The country I am writing about is Italy
the untimely measures gathered beneath solid
structure as hands fold the numeral gestures
gravely carved throughout the roman empire
while the daintiness of quiet muse's reciting playful
tunes through a calming poetic mannerism while
surrounding hidden notes while mastering an
illuminating symphony of words at times within
a dimly lit sphere of complete solitude ravishing the
minds eye capturing the purity of this brilliant light of
sheer salvation mending together so evenly like a woven
cloth of the unspoken speaking vividly to the quiet
understanding while the mere knowledge explored
beyond the galaxy only to return from the universe
with a boomerang effect craving matter seeking
wisdom an yet the core foundation of such yearning
still sits deep inside the heart of the muse stored
there as the mighty masons physically cannot chisel
away the outer surface once the muse has sealed
this beautiful masterpiece away for a certain time
of reflecting on poetry of the heart while the soul awaits
dances to confuse the heart into releasing such a divine
art form quickly an yet in that very moment the muse takes
holds of this fascinating poetic memory in time keeping it hostage
literally a mind written keepsake with the hope of savoring creating
a more in depth harmonic language of rhythm melody and words
hence the ability to enhance this craft into a profound literature that
will someday manifest into greatness a complete understanding for any
and everyone who simply picks up the book and desires to reads it
Awed by the scarlet cone flower’s beauty, I sense her purity.
I give her a reverent birth, thrilled by her loveliness.
Her confidence oozes into the garden with rapt maturity.
She has a delicate countenance that shows such finesse.
Hostile gardenias frown at her majestic ways and daintiness.
Jealousy has apparently reared its hideous head.
Goodly cone flower appears unsoiled, with no distress.
Mother nature smiles enough said.
There is an ominous feeling from the tulip bed.
They are giving the cone flower looks of a bully.
Enraged by her beauty, because they are almost dead,
They do their best to disturb and sully.
Enthusiastic geranium gives scarlet coneflower the nod.
He appreciates her tolerance for the garden varieties.
A butterfly light upon her pedals, which is not in the least odd.
Cone flower feels appreciated now in many degrees.
Baby faeries feel love toward the scarlet flower of the day.
They decided to visit along with their mystical mothers.
Coneflower exudes warmth and love in every way
Which eliminates the negative feelings of others
Written 5-28-2021
Type: Quatrain
Contest: Workshop Inviting to a Muse
Sponsor: Jack Webster
They flitter and flirt. They flutter, and I have to take an extra close look.
Are they faeries, brownies, butterflies, bees, dragonflies or what?
They are similar in a lot of ways and they all land on flowers.
Tiny blue moths languish on the timber I put into my fire pit.
It has been stacked for a while, and I marvel that they flit in and out
with such happiness about a bunch of old wood.
Yellow and white butterflies flutter around the marigolds,
making a big fuss of them, and honeybees and bumblebees take turns
pollinating the soft fuzzy lamb’s ear, that is so velvety to the touch.
Dragonflies arrive in July, but not many days before.
Their beveled wings capture my imagination; I have tried to draw them.
But no painting has done their daintiness justice.
Hummingbirds have a special connection with my garden.
When I think “I wish I could see a hummingbird” one always appears.
I am not surprised, being as in touch with garden faeries and gnomes as I am.
Among all the lovely flowers that spring
makes bloom on warm mornings,
I chose the daisy for its daintiness
and bright color as the golden hair
of that first love at the age of seventeen!
Irene was realistic, unlikely me: a delusive dreamer;
we could have been great friends or even soulmates!
I dreamt of children and their loud laughter,
of joyful days spent in that meadow of daisies...
showing our affection as we played together!
You should have seen me picking up those yellow daisies
and putting them in her long, blonde hair,
as sunrays highlighted it with much radiance;
that image truly harmonized with Nature
in that meadow of daisies and it became almost sacred!
I went back there at the end of summer
to reminisce that lovely face so lit-up with joy,
but thoughts of nostalgia incited some tears;
beautiful one, reappear in that meadow of daisies...
beautiful one, let my kisses be your ecstasy!
Copyright ( c ) 2018 by Andrew Crisci
I smell autumn's fragrant touch,
Soft and silken with pale hues
That paints its tender daintiness -
In wondrous shades & half tones,
Leaving weary and forlorn hearts
Aflutter with olden memories,
And many with thoughts of love.
I touch withered maple leaves
Scattered along the side-walk,
Perhaps they are broken hearts
Waiting for divine intervention
From their painful agonies;
A plight that none can behold.
I see gray clouds disappearing
Beyond a brilliant blue horizon,
Leaving behind a dry freshness,
Urging trees to turn shameless
And let winds help them disrobe.
I hear sweet, myriad twittering -
Of birds celebrating an early dusk
Along with the nocturnal beasts;
With Venus gesturing at twilight.
I feel it is to pause awhile, before
Daylight evaporates into ether
For shadows to finally convey -
Magical secrets to dark angels
And to the darkness of the night.
Wish I could decipher them!
***********
Sun Goddess at large in frilly filigree frock
Holding the world in her hand at a gentle angle
I sense her joyful soul and our hearts quickly lock
How much more exquisite can she clearly dangle?
She glows gold in the morning, showing me her love
Streaks across the sky fiercely at night with happiness too
Dashes of daintiness exude from her catbird seat above
Whispers of joyfulness showing off her delicate eyes of blue
Sun Goddess, I count on you each and every pretty day
Your warmth helps me to be the best earth person I can be
To watch the squirrels and the creatures of the forest play
Is truly wonderful and lovely, made possible by thee
Your golden halo and your intrinsic locks of genius power
Entice me to be the best person I can be for the entire day.
Your morning love goes well with coffee and an ice cold shower.
Your spirituality and essence clearly and distinctly lead the way.
I meander my way through the hills, noting the pretty violets.
Their daintiness delights me, so I sit, trying not to crush any.
An impossible task. While I am down here, I notice the morels.
My hand reaches past them to feel the bumpiness of the tree moss.
The sun has greeted me; I see a diagonal sun stream lighting the meadow.
I lean against the trunk of the oak and study the prettiness of this valley.
Since I was a child I always wanted to be a grandma and live in the country.
I never wanted to cook or bake, so I don’t.
I sit here, loving the sound of crickets.
Was that a frog? I get up to wander to the pond. There are minnows there.
I can practically feel the cool water on my fingers; I stare at my age spots.
When did I grow my grandmother’s hands? I wonder if I still have my freckles.
The ones grandpa used to tease me about when I was nine. I will look later.
She was a delicate cat, a darling little miss.
Her soft tan color gave her a look of daintiness.
I climbed up on a ladder and tried to coax her down.
She blinked her eyes at me, backed up with a frown.
Come on, sweetie, I said. You are such a darling honey.
I told my husband I could get her; we had bet some real money.
She got higher now, and it made me irritated.
She was at least six feet further, I felt exasperated.
Come on, honey, I said with my sweetest smile.
She backed up further, more than a yard, maybe a mile.
My husband came out and yelled “How are you doing up there?”
I said “You scared her, and now the bet is not fair!”
He laughed at this, for he knew I might welch on the bet.
Come on, baby, I said to the cat whose eyes got quite wet.
She lunged at me with a paw trying hard to scratch me.
So I removed the ladder and left her up in that tree.