Long Daybreak Poems
Long Daybreak Poems. Below are the most popular long Daybreak by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daybreak poems by poem length and keyword.
Before the promised coming of the Messiah,
Men sought shelter in caves near the sacred sea.
Rites of purification they practiced there,
Seeking for a new light to set them free.
We prepare a shrine worthy of Him,
For He is the communion of our dreams.
His are the Holy Elements we seek,
About which all earthly loveliness streams.
Every daybreak, the sun holds his devotions.
The horizon his altar for God's praise.
And for its blessed holy sacrament,
It distributes its brilliant erubescent rays.
Robins and buntings in feathery robes
With rapture ring their silver bells
To let every worthy believer know
That God upon His throne now dwells.
The mighty limbs of towering trees
Reach to embrace like the outstretched arm.
The divine cathedral brightly waits
Extending perfect greetings, so warm.
We lost our “UMOJA”, the basic concept and core value of our being “We, therefore, I am”, at the time of our history that began some 300 years ago. We didn’t step on the soil of New World with a dream like many others, but hauled on the ground like a cargo as merchandise. We were each treated individually as a unit but not tied as a family or group bonded together by the same dialect.
Misery was the food we’d been feeding to fill our empty stomach, agony was the water we’d been drinking to quench our thirst, depth of our footmarks were the weights we’d been carrying, our lives were trial after trial of thorny path. No matter how hard we worked, our baskets were empty. No matter how much we labored, returns of our toils were unbearable lashes. No matter how humbly we begged and ardently prayed, God always turned His face away from us.
But all those detestable days are gone as second millennium faded away. Shackles of curse are removed from our neck and wrists. Our burdens are removed from our back. The reward of our day’s of labor is reasonable wage. Why don’t we embrace one another with joy because only thing remain is our determination.
As daybreak sun is rising from yonder horizon, our darkest day has passed; for daybreak light is brighter than ever and pleasant as spring breath, we have good reason to celebrate for a moment. Nevertheless, don’t prolong the time of festival because it may make you stray from reality and to dwell in farfetched world.
As long as you don’t fold the wings but spread wide and keep flapping them, though sometimes encountering high wind, you can fly higher than the highest ridges of a mountain. If you keep swimming upstream, though you may confront falls and rapids, you’ll come to your old home where your parents risked their lives to spawn and enable you to hatch from an egg one day, and rejoice overflowing water in the ocean to gladden your life. If you dart with a swift gallop not abandoning tomorrow’s dream, no matter how immeasurably vast is the wilderness, you’ll reach the horizon before sun sinks into the other side of the world.
It’s the time to restore our “UMOJA” a laudable custom once we lost during our darkest days, recover “UMOJA” our ancestral heritage the good moral standard to sustain “I as us.”
Gust wheezes behind the sill, fog on pane
I accede to its drift while moonglow dies ;
This heart longs for you, but would breaths refrain
From asking suchlike thoughts, when time implies—
A goodbye ebbing, cast, by rippled gloom
That drizzles speak of broken ties, of chill;
Nebulous in hours ashed, my nights exhume
A stygian waste trashing days, pungent and ill.
O gruesome the maze through cloudburst —although
My hope unbounded bequeaths inner peace ;
To grant evening shadow its afterglow
Until daybreak hails new comfort of ease.
On my way greeting life, joy always wins
Even if most rainfall ends or begins.
Contest No 500 of Brian Strand
In the blushing sunrise,
Rose gold and luscious lavender,
Promising that daybreak…
Stirs souls to hear God’s laughter,
Sings of all the pleasures…
Revealed when light erases the dark,
Leaving the night without the teasing
Stars, the quiet moon or the roaring
Winds, whispering softly over the life…
In the bluish pink skies,
Nature’s song pours out her peace,
In notes as gentle as the rainfall,
Moving the prayers to kiss
Away the melancholic dreams,
Filling the heart with a sense of relief,
Abandoning doubt and insecurity,
Telling the thoughts to believe, just believe…
In the heartbroken light,
Falling softly on the spirit who sees…
Remarkable joy, stirring wonders,
Who drift into the beautiful,
Silencing the nocturnal with all its fear,
Muzzling the ache that brings tears,
Inviting the music to play tenderness…
Through the moments who reach out,
Leaving glistening bits of stardust
Wherever the legacy of grace stumbles,
Testing the seas of yesterday’s
Pledge, the words sweating relief….
In the morning, appraise the dewlike
Frosting, cool with the night’s liquid tones,
Erasing the dusky destiny,
Provoking tempting truths, tantalizing
Tidbits of honesty, melting
Away the awfulness of a past dread,
Doubtful and shadowed by sadness,
Coloring the future in blessings,
Sweetest mercy silencing the heartache,
Destroying the hunger, a craving
For what comes alive when the past
Has subsided and hope brings its light…
Sunrise, with all its blushing beauty –
Sings softly, calling out with a music,
Meant for the stars to cling to,
A goodbye to the night, painted with glistening…
Rose and traveling through the dawn,
Like a lingering spirit who knows…
Forever is found in the most simplistic yearning,
Feelings who are always burning…
Seeking to embrace the lingering of a smile,
Painting hearts with heavenly hopes,
Histories acquainted with the most precious love,
Love so alive it sways, dancing quietly,
Amid the leaves of oaks and birth, softening
Strengths who need to be persuaded…
To listen to the beautiful who resonates through autumn,
The beautiful that seeks to bestow…
Her riches on the spirit who lingers on her earth.
A fleck of wheat along the bay
A quiver in the grass,
While daybreak shifts and ripples on
To mirror clouds that pass.
Warm breezes drift among the trees,
So calming to my ear
And only wistful eyes can seize
This dreamy atmosphere.
Then stars lend glitter to the night
To beam upon the dew,
Which fondles passion with glazed charm
As lovers thrill anew.
A time to dance, a time to grasp
The heart of summertime--
And nothing else to break the flow
Of moments quite sublime !
2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 22 Poetry Contest
Re-submitted 3/04/2019
8/6/8/6 rhyme scheme
Waking on this grey fall morning;
in the air there lies a warning;
rising angst as fears aborning;
feeling late November’s chill.
Darkened clouds obscure the daybreak,
as I nurse this aging headache;
warmer days are but a keepsake
gone forever, summer’s thrill.
Thinking back as springtime’s grooming
brought me hope with nature’s blooming;
summer’s warmth left me assuming
that forever youth would last.
Suddenly there came September
causing bygones I remember;
now November’s dying ember
leaves me longing for the past.
Damning is this aging season;
robbing hopes with truthful treason;
greying dreams are now the reason
that I’m feeling nature’s warn.
Looking long into the mirror,
aging lines becoming clearer;
end of year is drawing nearer
on this late November morn.
November 11, 2020
As the day dawns on the flaming canvas of the sky,
aureate fringed wispy cloud convoy glides slowly away.
On the cobalt sea they shower the spectrum of color,
silver-streaked waves spread pearl strings on the shore.
The sunburst horizon of daybreak drips sequins on the sea,
golden garlands glow with rhapsody on the rolling waves.
The ancient mariner in me sails on the wind of ecstasy,
across the seamless expanse of dancing sapphire shine.
After the agonizing night the sparkling new day dawns,
and as the yonder gloomy horizon brightens to entice,
I discover euphoria trinkets hidden in the mist of despair,
find within me a serene sea to swim to the bay of bliss.
The sun of the cyan sky shines on emerald forest canopy,
strips of light and shade saunter around whispering trees,
make nature’s ethereal lattice of mystique design I marvel,
as I wander mesmerized in the entrancing wilderness.
I feel the melodic touch of serenading breeze of the wild,
as I waft in its wake to the halcyon horizon of delight.
I reach the mesmeric meadow blossoming in my mind,
as I float breathing rapture in the ambience of aromatic air.
free spirit of summer: a new foliage
wraps the air; vagabond daybreak spilling
colored tones on mounds of rosebuds
dripping of citrine sensation...
how beautiful they are,
enough to widen hundreds of a maiden's smiles...
and while swags of August cuddle
gemmed blossoms and herbage ,
a plump view shapes morning into a spray
of mountain petals, spreading sheer
rapture on long, lavish fields---
spellbound by sunlight of auroral tint,
flowers burst more daring than
the red, orange and pink of early beam,
as trinket of bulbs surfs along garden beds
waving their flamenco hands to greet tangled wet weeds. ...
and much like the sun they were born from,
florets thrust their tanned arms radiant. rare. robust...
here, a parade of garlands dressed in
satin hues prances on the first touch of light:
that finally, earth's flesh is decked
in summer rays, in softened prayer...
sun - up waltzing pivoting
in dawn's sweet, effervescent glow!
Daybreak,
the sun breaks into his room.
A pulsing headache.
He moves towards the bathroom,
bleary eyed he stumbles.
A dead body on the floor.
Panic.
He looks at his hands, but they are clean.
What happened in the darkness of the night?
He suppresses a scream.
Hysteria comes without warning.
Vague memories arise.
He was in a cheap hotel.
Why? He hangs his head in shame.
Should he escape?
He turns the body.
A young woman stares up at him,
a knife in her chest.
Fool, don’t touch it,
remember your fingerprints.
He rushes into the bathroom,
his stomach churning.
Why all this?
Who is he?
There’s knock on the door.
Police have come.
He opens the door.
He longs to die.
Instead he cries.
NB Not for any contest.
31 January 2021
Yellow
beams glistening
on close growing clover-
when the lark departs is summer
over?
Tedious toil from dawn to dark,a farmhands days then so harsh and stark.The
clockhands ticks round slowly by one by one,Pa's work ending with the setting
sun.Daybreak and sunset he milked the cows,in between with the horse and
plough.Across the fields a church bell peals recording his monotonous
ordeal.Each day to the beerhouse his footsteps led,then back to our cottage for
supper and bed.Us young'uns spent days gleaning the field,a years's bread
such toil could yield.Hedgerow sloes in the market sold, eked out the wage in our
household.Sister helped Ma with her local lace , round an open
fireplace.Ended her schooling afore her teens to enlist in the domestic service
scene.