Long Decorated Poems
Long Decorated Poems. Below are the most popular long Decorated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Decorated poems by poem length and keyword.
Everything has changed in a jiffy
The sun is balmy, the grass is green
And no trace of winter can be seen.
I ventured out on my usual nature stroll
To penetrate beauty, breathe fresh air
And mingle with nature that is so dear.
I walked along a clear- cut path contemplating
the mystery of the benevolent sky,
analyzing the soul of the city
while communicating with the swirling wind.
It’s a beautiful day filled with children at play
groups of children assembled on the playing ground
and instructors and parents hanging around.
Tiny tots, elementary school age, strong headed teenager
were all apart of this enthralling game.
The tiny tots could hardly hold their bats
Fathers’ gathered around helping their boys
as they struggle to make an accurate shot.
Something spectacle caught my eyes from a distance
a laden tree decorated with beautiful flowers
pulled me along a magnificent path.
I couldn’t help but tossed myself under the tree.
I lie on the splendid grass beneath the laden tree
and stared intensely towards the heavens above me
laden branches juxtaposed against the thrilling
blue sky reminds me that life is beautiful and divine.
Passionate pinkish-hued flowers hanged cheerfully above me
while dozens of bee suck nectar from their nourishing blossom.
I lie very still focusing on the scenery above me
trying to figure out the unknown
so that I can compose a true story of my own.
It was a magical moment all wrapped up in the appealing blue sky
I watched the sun forced its way through the laden branches
and penetrated my entire face with its glaring ray of light.
Birds lands upon the crammed branches singing melodious tunes
and a gently wind passed through swiftly scattering petal over me.
Not far from the blossoming tree a naked tree with dry branches
dressed up in winter boots, encumbered with winter gown
is still feeling the winter punishment from inside out.
beaten and battered red buds lingered on the tip of dry branches
trying desperately to bloom again.
The laden blossoming tree leaning against the clear blue sky
with its pinkish-hued flowers and gleaming sunlight
paved the way for a brand new day.
©2015 Christine Phillips
Remember when grandma would boil the eggs?
There were no fancy color kits to buy.
She used crushed berries for the royals, purple and blue,
tea or coffee for sunny shades of yellow and orange,
and spinach for gracious green (the only way I liked it at the time).
Glorious golden and regal red – from onion skins! Oh my!
If she had eggplant or red cabbage, she made precious pink and purple.
What passionate pastels emerged and earthy hues of neutral nature!
colors of nature
repurposed from the heavens ~
two times the blessing
No chemical dyes with eggs swiftly finished and decorated in one sitting.
Grandma’s eggs took gathering the eggs from the nest,
food or food scraps, a couple of days, several helping hands, various
utensils and implements, and make quite the mess! A perfect process!
humble beginnings
after a long abstinence ~
a welcome reward
Oh, the love and joy from decorating those eggs.
No kit can ever compare.
Everyone oohing and ahhing over another blah house
Decorated so wonderfully. What? Are you kidding? Nothing special.
Boring at best. Blah. Tans and browns. Excuse me. Apricot and almonds.
Sheesh!
Decorating. A multi-million dollar business. Every house the same as the last five.
I cannot ooh or awe. I sit in disbelief that people are so easily satisfied with these clip clop houses.
No more interesting than a rusty horse shoe, which is sometimes found in some of them.
Disgusted, I turn off the TV knowing the other show I used to watch is full of glass houses.
Each almost exactly the same – with their sixty thousand dollars worth of windows.
Satisfied with my neons and my pops of vibrant colors, my oranges, and my purples,
I turn on my black light and stare in amazement that I have managed to make a haven
With color galore, out of my own sweet imagination, by following my heart.
Apricot and almonds. Blah! My colors are jalapeno, tomato, and carrot so there!
I was walking snow covered woods,
in my dream and came upon a fir tree;
and I was struck by the bright glistening branches,
dusted with beautiful new fallen snow;
shimmering in moonlight . . .
with stars shining through those branches,
reminding me of Jesus's journey to Earth;
oh, I will decorate that fir tree in the woods,
'cause could not imagine cutting it down;
so went home for baubles . . .
made of glass, wood and ceramic,
also garland, tinsel and a golden star;
it was a lovely dream of tree decorating,
and in great respect for the nativity;
I placed the star on top . . .
and when I was finished- I stood,
to behold the most beautiful fir tree;
with stars shining through the decorated branches,
and the star up top began to sparkle;
in my Christmas tree dream . . .
__________________________
December 7, 2018
Poetry/Verse/My Christmas Tree Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1092-660-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
November hangs on
To a blanket made of cold and grey
To the bare branches of trees clinging to the sky for the last precious moments of warm sunlight
Counting every minute of the shortened days
November hangs on
To being surrounded by memories on its long dark nights
The way our empty hands grasp on to the comfort of our covers
November hangs on to every word uttered from a lovers lips
Something to shake off the frost on our hearts when facing late Autumn's changing winds
November hangs on through every crowded street and storefront decorated with glee
Tis the happiest time for some but the loneliest time for many
The little fir tree was feeling extremely sad
it was tiny compared to its mum and its dad
When people saw the tree they just walked away
and chose a much larger tree for their Xmas display
The wind helped the fir tree waggle its branches
and the tree tried so hard to get admiring glances
Sadly people said ‘that tree’s much too small,
it wouldn’t look right in our lounge or the hall’
All of a sudden the little tree became aware
of a disabled young lad in a motorised chair
Peter beamed when he saw the little fir tree
and said ‘mum this tree is perfect for me’
His mother said ‘Peter are you really sure
there’s lots to see, we could look at more’
Peter said to his mum ‘this little tree is ideal
and when its decorated, your heart it will steal’
Peter said ‘mum, it will be so easy for me
I’ll be able to decorate this little fir tree
We’ll buy baubles from the Christmas shop
and I can reach to put the gold angel on top’
The store man overheard the boy’s conversation
and was so impressed by Peter’s determination
He waived the purchase price of the little tree
Peter left the store smiling, he was very happy
Peter decorated the little tree all on his own
and it took pride of place in their cosy home
His mother’s so proud of her determined boy
and the little fir tree gave them so much joy.
Submitted to "X" Contest, New or Old
Sponsored by Constance La France
12/3/18
I feel the challenge.
Can I change the past?
Only the good Lord knows,
but I can try hard.
And what can one do
to achieve such a mammoth
enterprise? Don’t you know.
Only one thing suffice, an impossibility.
I pray that I might be given a chance.
Time creates a vortex
and into the past I am sent.
I shudder at the sights.
All evil lay behind me,
Murders, massacres, mayhem,
terrorism, turbulence, strife,
diseases, ugly like plagues,
still born babes, Lyme Disease*,
infections, dermatitis, blindness
and so much more, so much more.
Until I come to my destination.
The garden is decorated
with myriads of beautiful trees,
flowers spread their fragrance
enticing all sorts of flying insects,
but no one can be seen.
On the hill are two stately trees.
No one is to touch the tree
of knowledge of good and evil.
But why? Such lovely fruit
resembling sweet olives.
I reach up and began to eat.
A vortex of angry wind rises up.
And I am back where I was.
It is far best to think of the future,
for the past cannot be changed.
*unable to walk.
You see I love my wife, I really really do, I mean it. I love how after I come back from a long day of work I come home to a clean dinner table, not a thing on this table, its just spick and span. I just love when I go to sleep in our bed. My wife gives me the luxury of feeling the nice cool breeze on my shivering flesh. She makes sure none of our smothering king sized blanket dare deprive me of the cold bitter kiss of the AC, and the chilling night air. How thoughtful. You see, I just love when I wake up freezing in the morning and go to our bathroom and find it beautifully decorated with all sorts of cosmetics, it adds a touch of…her lovely personality and natural beauty to the start of my day. You see, I love my wife and I would never divorce her because a man who leaves his wife over a murderous thought here and there is no man at all .
I love my wife. I really really do. I love when she gets mad for no reason, it keeps things interesting, it keeps me on my toes, it keeps my mind sharp. I love when she takes 3 hours to get ready because it gives me time to develop the power of my imagination. I really like sitting for hours just thinking about what miraculous explanation I'm going to give the people at the event we are going to on why we are 2 and a half hours late. Man do I love my wife. I do, and I would never divorce her because a man who leaves his wife for his girlfriend has no honor at all. And I am if nothing else a man of honor who keeps his promises. Oh I just love my wife. I especially love when she treats me like a son. It really shows how much she loves me, you know? When she complains honey why arent the dishes done and why isn’t the room clean and why are you never home I’m flooded with intense emotions that I can’t begin to describe? I mean, is there any greater love than a mothers love, and am I not the luckiest man of all to get a two for one special in my adoring wife? Her adorable nagging really lets me use the few hours I'm not at work proactively because god forbid I take a break. You see, I just love my wife. I really really do. And I will never divorce her because I meant what I said when I vowed until DEATH do us part.
Dead people are shouting at the gates, demanding to get in.
I look at the head devil; he has green curly hair on his chin.
Why they want in here is anyone’s guess, he says to me.
It’s not like we’re party animals; there is no kind of glee.
Let us in! One of the loudest ones demands in a hoar se voice.
I found pout later he is a spoiled only child name of Royce.
The head devil rolls his eyes and twists his finger around his ear.
Even I understand this signal; it is well-known, very clear.
They must be crazy to want inside these decorated gates of gym.
I guess they do not realize the things that are ready for them.
Come on! Another yells eagerly, taking up the sounding bell.
Do they not understand they have arrived at the gates of hell?
HOT SUMMER DAY
hair’s fallen, wet.
clinging shirt with sweat.
shoe’s barely protect
my feet, from the pavement’s heat.
i climb aboard the bus, no
air conditioning, of course,
and head to the bustling city streets.
perspiration stains and inpatient glances
all shout, with the fervor of a wet dog, shaking himself.
i depart this catacomb.
windows decorated with sundresses and sandals.
the dummies never bat their eyes nor stink,
though the steam seeps into every crevice.
i’m glum and irritated,
the heat pressing on every thought.
i’ve come here to find a gift -
and i do i do i do
not in the shops
but in the street.
i hear the uproarious laughter
of children.
the city street has sprung
a fire hydrant leak.
oh those tinkling voices,
like crystal, lifting up my spirits!
oh the joy of splashing waters
and the serendipitous smiles!
oh how i can live
through the glorious eyes
of happy children.
my heart forgets my complaint.
9/16/2017
Eve Roper’s Hot Summer Day Contest
1st Place