Long Deigns Poems
Long Deigns Poems. Below are the most popular long Deigns by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deigns poems by poem length and keyword.
Autumn, a time for reflections on reflections,
and they are rife, linked to pearly grey sky,
lake, puddle, mud strewn path or no,
while each steep cliff face boldly juts,
sheer defiance without concession or a budge,
through jagged edge loadstone chipping,
as the chilling froth-tipped sea mounts its saline tumult, irrespective of an iron cast continuing rebuttal.
One can pass the baton to u turn so turbulent,
within our mental recess at end of summer phase.
September signpost deigns to whisper,
of a scenic telltale hint and tint,
this somber colour gloss an imposition on July,
sunburst relish, such a sullen flashback,
amid the garden suite indigo plot,
beyond a purposeful utopian expanse,
which every avid green-fingered artisan must doff,
their pale straw rimmed hat to,
that transit between seasons, annual curtain drop,
awash with predetermined wish fulfilment,
glow upon each glitter that sparks our child,
eternal down the ages,
somehow yet an underlying dread might spoil
or pamper,
in such icicle entanglement so wicked in its frozen mosaic,
chase indelible precursor now more than ever so inevitable.
MAUDE
Her red plump lips doth tease releasing mood,
And glasses squeeze the shark-like eyes of Maude.
My tippy-toes reach her tall tattooed knees.
Maude’s eyes slide down Her beak-like nose.
She shakes aluminum-like paper pad,
“Why poet,” she sneers, “are these your quaint words?”
“Um and uh,” doth depart my liver lips,
“I…and…,” I nervously stammer reply.
She throws back her enormous head and laughs.
She bends those tattooed knees, and pats my hair,
“Oh poet, little friend,” she deigns with smirk,
“Those words are quite your size,” stands straight back up.
I mar the makeup on the trellis limb.
Thus composed I will “face to face” this alp.
“Outrageous!” I begin, “Now face your sin.
A prideful chest of pious smirks, you have,”
But in the end I’ll win. I’ll work for words.”
Maude dare not speak. My eyes pierce hers. They’re fierce.
So close to me, she trembles, says, “Sorry…
You’ve got the job.” With sunken chest Maude quits.
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
(Dedication: For Ann, my darling.)
---------------------------------------
A blessing within that spreads a fond glow;
Now just as before the journey we walk;
New wonders unseen in feelings that show;
Appeal firms galore in kindness that talks.
Love is the reason for health made ample;
Indulge sure passion in feelings that sing;
Free as the seasons that shape the humble;
Embrace true action in warm touching flings.
Live each swirling chime with spontaneous urge;
Opt to be feisty in moments that spice;
Voice grandeur in time as rhymes prime each surge;
Endear the cheery as echoes fund prize.
Love and life sparkle in days that mellow;
Your calm ways dazzle in nights that follow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ann of my dear days and my constant delight;
Now we live passion that rise and fall here;
New range of light rays to greet our fond sights;
Apply deep notions as intent springs clear.
Love funds a new dawn with feelings that light;
Open hearts endow the touch of fond joy;
Voices of bright morn hurl hints of insight;
Exploits sojourn now beyond words or ploys.
Life is a story that comes forth to tell;
Imprints of soul scripts that fate deigns to art;
Vouch for grand plenty that springs where we dwell;
Enlighten each trip with lovely pure hearts.
Look time and space strange in change that awakes;
Yield wonder in face, in authentic takes.
Leon Enriquez
26 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet.)
Late-September tingles on wispy nights,
blowing a mild drizzle from crisp, eastern winds
and lays on the hammock of gilded foliage,
to decorate a new season's mantle:
Its fire and earth mesh with time's luster,
weaving a texture which displays
a soul’s contentment from nature's hymn,
that deigns to fully acknowledge
such Virgo charm boundless, unbidden
in a cycle lacquered with marmalade sunsets ;
kindling fine autumn's enchantment.
Until moonlight glints a lustrous face
on lanes where birdsong and lovers croon,
through a rush of its tempo’s eloquence
gifting the days, oh infinitesimal peace--
then bathes whispered prayers, as russet glow
tenderly slips into heaves of its final moment.
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