Long Delia Poems
Long Delia Poems. Below are the most popular long Delia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Delia poems by poem length and keyword.
Let’s keep on learning* amidst reading glow
Kindled by wondrous interest to grow
Radiating wisdom along knowledge flow
To vanquish ignorance and folly’s blow.
Led by guiding light of truth’s Source aright
Let’s read God’s Word** for instructions so bright
Seeking to absorb divine news’ delight
So we can share love and grace with peace-might.
Expanding horizons, smiting doubt’s fear
Let’s advance, soaring toward changes’ steer
Reaching to impossibilities’ cheer
For development of functional gear.
Triumphant in fulfilling assigned roles
Let’s enjoy blessed life with learning goals
Blending ideas of different poles
Pulling others from vain deceits’ sinkholes.
(From Contest Sponsor: *8. She could read anything now, he said, and once you can read anything you can learn everything. It was up to her. “Nobody’s come close to filling their brains,” he said. “We’re all like giraffes not using their necks to reach the higher leaves.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 18: “White Canoe” (p. 131).
**2 Timothy 2:15 Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.
January 3, 2023
1st place, "Feel Free" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Sara Kendrick; judged on 1/6/2023.
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” ~ Delia Owens
When I was born, I clung to my mother,
A little light green being,
God made me so unlike any other,
I flap flutter unmoving,
Thousands of my brothers and sisters live
With me and my mom, all green,
Dancing and swaying with the breeze active,
We rustle, bustle umpteen,
During Autumn, my colour becomes red,
And I know my end is near,
Away from mom's clasp, I will soon be dead,
There's only one thing to cheer,
Now I can go where the wind wishes me,
I will try out my new wings,
All my life passed by, content on a tree,
Now I can explore few things,
Happy, I soar, away from my mom's shade,
Journeying on a new quest,
Fly and glide over the grass and the glade,
Floating, I find final rest.
2nd January 2023
in 1122 I’ll fall to the ground for you
princess O princess of rosemary dew
you know it takes two
to tango fandango
Delia – heartbound; foundling born tired
forsaken vixen of dying light
a submarine ghost
a rose dale long closed
infidel lost little girl still admired
her royal affairs of turquoise red
flew into the newborn on a death bed
into the rabbit hole of paranoia
that’s chimerical, that’s flamboyant
how easy can dreams come to an end
it’s noontide of deathless urban decay
in a separation station of her heyday
Delia’s timorous, cold like iron
living the fate of Sharon Tate
feeling redundant, Delia is
a scarecrow of the nameless river
her russet hair like abbatoir cleaver
it’s been a folly,
infamy,
end of me
end of a saint, soon-to-be sinner
she was the girl that was ill
Delia of the lavender hill
travelling light year by light year
Delia of the metasphere
I was driving with my friend Delia in my brand new Honda Civic
It was noon and we were on our way to see my Auntie,
she’s my mum’s sister, we call her Evil Olive!
Suddenly I swerve to avoid something in the road and skid on some dumb mud -
Was it a cat I saw?
Won’t I panic in a pit now?
Sadly last year there were ten animals I slam in a net.
I was distraught; I don’t want to step on no pets.
Delia saw I was ailed, do you need a drink she asked?
“Rum… rum…” I murmur.
Silly me, I redden, I mustn’t drink and drive
Delia takes over the wheel and pulls up at Walmart’s tram law
We get the trolley passing the fruit and veg, no lemons, no melon.
Oh drat! mom had asked me to take some fruit to Auntie Olive
I’m a vegan, ew eat a ewe - eating meat; the thought is quite disgusting
I wonder when they are killed do geese see God?
I grab something for tea, Ya! Pizza zip pizazz! I pay.
Palindromes II Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
10/9/18
7. “Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (p. 124).
In Spring we are svelte and supple….youthful,
Summer brings our exuberant spirit to the forefront,
we dance, we waltz, we murmur our breathtaking
stories to each other!
Autumn tiptoes soon like a coy, veiled bride,
making us shiver with intriguing anticipation!
our colours turn so stunningly beautiful
we feel an ecstasy marvelling at our own lustre…
orange, scarlet, amber, tangerine!
oh my, fiery red hues envelop our sheen!
our prosaic existence fleets away,
we get intoxicated in a riot of colours!
begin to float in a sea of euphoria!
We float, we flutter.. we wander..
twirling, swirling, whirling in the air,
swooshing around the tranquil trees!
This is our only chance to soar above
our humble lives…we are not the prettiest flowers,
but we create a decoupage of kaleidoscopic
beauty, incomparable on its own!
"Feel Free" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Quote 7 Used
20 lines
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia.
Its solemn swaying into this world isn't a fall,
From the ever-season-shifting earth, it's a call;
Yearning, seeking, searching for liberty within,
Cut from the umbilical code of fear; to win;
Flying, floating, freezing, fizzing, fleeing, freeing,
To go beyond settled foundations, far-seeing...!
The autumn leaf though happy with the gaudy ground,
Does it stay on, as a household slave, freedom bound?
Crawling, creeping, moving, merrying, flying far;
Movement, like the time, the leaf says, has no time bar;
Sometimes slow; sometimes fast; sometimes in mild tempo,
Often, it moves in breeze-race-bustle-like fair flow...!
Does the autumn leaf feel anger against the tree,
That cut it from his sap-filled trunk and let it flee?
Is it disgusted at the grim weather around,
Or the zeitgeist, for his existence, not so sound?
Does it feel frightened of the thistly bristly thorns,
That would pierce its heart and would yearn to hear its mourns...?
The leaf has made the act of flying its mission,
To link with leaves of the same vision ignition;
Flying beyond all feelings of joy and sadness,
Puzzles and riddles and reach zeniths of gladness;
As it knows this would be the only given chance,
Before it reaches its psycho-physical trance...!
Isn't an autumn leaf like a thirsty human soul,
That has taken its flight from the absolute whole?
Moving, merging, shifting, stirring midst silent stroll,
Comprehending incomprehensible bliss pole!
Pushed, pulled, torn, flown, thrown into many a chuckhole,
Attains, ultimately, its unending sole goal...!
23 December 2022
Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
Rhymes Checked in Rhyme Zone
Syllable Checked in How Many Syllables
7. “Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (p. 124).
Somberness into existence is not a tumble.
Earth's ever-changing season mumbles.
Longing, pining, and scouring to leap, a sense free.
To beat, rupture of the endometrium of worry.
Find out how to tour this aesthetical orb.
Whatever you might protect is potherb.
Each step will pay off; Earth seems endless.
Maintain in mind her charming prowess.
Without mild radiation, stars would be ablaze.
The sparkle of your eyes makes you in a daze.
Shine bright, we made you for this world.
The zeal of fate, separate yourself from the herd.
It soars, snows, splashes, and seeks shelter.
Grasping beyond, setting up a binding welter.
Fall leaves were reflected on the bright floor.
Is it confined to a life of pain, as to explore?
Will the fall petals retain the bitterness of the shrub?
Was it chopped from moisture roots and snubs?
Are you rebelling over harsh conditions outside?
Or maybe the mood wasn't truly steady inside.
I identify dry autumn leaves with a restless soul.
How are the parts pulled out of the whole?
During leisurely walks. Integrate, and create a flow.
Awareness of the paradox of infinite glow.
Written: December 24, 2022
Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
Golden rays filter through rustling red leaves
Oscillating fall colors to rhythms of evening
Amid sounds exotic as animals roam freely
Deep into wilderness, where rare birds sing,
Where trees groove merrily to musical winds,
Whirling, weaving motifs of autumnal glee;
While leisurely they stroll, exulting playfully,
Exchanging stolen looks of notions romantic,
Divulging, without words, secret love-missives
Lying dormant, yet simmering for some time,
Virgin passions strumming enamored minds
Revealing now openly, fervent beats of life.
“Oh! how I wish” she says, “to live in a cabin,
lingering timelessly, savoring realm pristine,
of blazing autumn prairies, burbling streams,
wandering to spring reveling your company;”
As moonlit vibes sparkle, love in bashful eyes,
Rejoicing first-ever kiss, blissful in paradise.
January 3, 2023
Placed 7th: Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing.
Based on quote 7 above.
-Here comes Father Pedro
To say High Mass
And drink his fill of wine
Of that local red wine
Which he consecrates and elevates
In a chalice gilded inside
Silvered outside
Up to the ceiling of the Church
In Carbonero el Mayor
In the province of Segovia.
My father and the devout men and women
Who go to Mass every Sunday
And holy days of obligation
Tell us that this priest
Doesn't consecrate just one chalice
But three with a drop of water each
And that, when he elevates the consecrated host
You can already tell he's a little tipsy
Because when he pronounces “God’ Lamb”
He says “White She Lamb.”
In the Sermon, before finishing it
He stops to talk with the parishioners:
-How are you, Delia
With your happy delivery?
-Listen, Teresa
With those sins you confess
The Devil is waiting for you
With a sweet erect stick
Longing to shove it up your rectum.
Tell me, Constantina
Sad and afflicted woman
How is your husband?
Is he dead or alive?
Tell me, Daniela
Is your husband still lingering
Along your prolapsed womb?
When Mass ends
Don Pedro runs out
Wearing shoes seven leagues long
Because the village lads
Shout to him, but he doesn't answer:
Father, we want your hide
To make a sheepskin jacket.
Your head to make a lantern
To light up from September 5th to 9th
Our festival in honor
Of the Virgin of Bustar
(Bustar: pastureland)
Virgin of the Charcoal Burners.
Your donkey teeth
For our grandparents
Who need them so much.
Your fingernails to catch crickets
And black cockroaches.
Your tail to make a fan
For Your daughter
Born to the widow Gervasia
Your ever-present friend.
In the afternoon, after coffee
A glass and a Havana cigar
Don Pedro heads to the village bar
To play a game
Leaping and skipping
Along the Eresma River
So he's tired.
They play Mus
And, during a break in the game
To have a round of coffee or a shot
His companions ask him:
-Tell us, Father
As a card player always a friend
What do you say to the young women
When they go to confession?
-When they go to confession
Because the flesh is weak
I always tell them:
-How I would love to see you give birth
And see God in the heaven of your !
The honorable widows
The lovely young women
How beautifully they dress to come to Mass!
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (p. 124).
Sheltered within my mother’s caring limbs
Through spring, summer, and autumn
I felt secure all through the changing seasons
Happy I was with my siblings
Playing, giggling, and whispering
But when I watch birds flying in the air
And the blue of the sky peeking through clouds
Instinctively I long to fly aloft
Into the enormity of a realm with no boundaries
I don’t know why I feel sometimes
Trapped in a jungle, so stuck and stranded
Pinned down in an awful fixation
Then I hunger to be a bird, spread my wings,
And ride upon the wind to join in an odyssey
Once when I announced my desire to my mother,
She said, “you are now mature enough
To free yourself from my sheltering clasp, so, I let you go”
Thus, from my caged existence, here I go
Slipping away from the cords that bind
Swaying and dancing on silvered wings
Jan.4.2023
~ Placed Second~
Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sara Kendrick