Long Descending Poems
Long Descending Poems. Below are the most popular long Descending by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Descending poems by poem length and keyword.
Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
Into the buoyant blue of a summer sky
I throw my fortune and my hopes.
With wings and wonder I survey
the world above and need some time
up there before descending back to earth.
Advancing throttle up I climb, rocket
like and plumb, to check the heights
of clouds and skill, rolling left, then
right as in a dance, light
with release from gravity.
Before my plane escapes my vision, too, I guide
it over a graceful arch, until fast approaching
ground is all I see, and while succumbing
to the appetite of earth for things detached,
roll again and again in defiance, cutting
facets from the burnished blue.
Pushing hard to inverted flight, I see things
from a different point of view. Pressure
on the stick reminds me that up is down, and
I must concentrate to follow a horizontal path.
The Extra was made for this, I tell myself,
and brace for more.
Throwing sticks to the corner I force a snap. In a burst
of energy my wings become a blur. Like a wayward
child nose and tail go off track and need correction.
The stress on joints and structure is immense, yet
my plane obeys with no complaint, rebelling
only at my command to return wings level.
Like a metronome ticking over the rhythmic pounding
of my heart I count my way through a hammerhead:
“Throttle up and push, and, wait, and… release!
1 and 2 and roll and roll, and
1 and 2 and throttle back… rudder!”
The plane pauses in mid-air – a sentry in the sky - then pivots
on a point. Opposite aileron keeps me in a geometric plane,
and earthward bound once more I resume the beat:
“1 and 2 and roll: to canopy, and belly!
1 and 2 and push!”
The lines and arcs I draw through weather fair and foul
are my signature, the salient points of aerobatic discourse,
a test of nerves and steel, the embrace of fear.
Breaking through that wall, I emerge
free to explore the boundaries of my craft.
I must look beyond the attitude of pitch, roll and yaw
to see the art that I’m creating there
from the power and pull of wings through air.
Holding a precise line against the force
of Indiana winds or the vagaries of a Midwest storm,
with sunburned lips, lack of sleep or
a thousand other faults...
ah, there is the rub.
It is no easy thing, and still I try
to reach perfection, to control the direction
I will fly in that endless summer sky.
~ Precious-tears-offered in-faith ... fall, God-catches them places
them, within His Souls heavenly-amphora, and with a sway of His Mighty Hand,
plucks-up His eminent-Knowledge-honed by Holy Quill. ~
~ Upright ... and looking strait into His vision for us of the new day. Offers
the many consummate opportunities riding high on the fringe of His
promise, granted in welcome. Painting a Holy Journey, evolving amid
a certain solace and freedom. Moving on into veracious days with Him
lasting on forever. Exiting beyond higher lofts of earthly sky's and rolling
lands advancing in humble reverence descending down from the openness
of the Heavens. Rewriting yet again; another-story in person for each individual.
Yes for all life; far-greater and-even-greater still ... than the others gone before. ~
~ Carrying within it ... the treasures revealed of Him strewn about found soaring
aloft the reality of Him granted and awakened devout of their surrender. Whispering,
of the latter days grateful of the many gone by. ~
~ As tender kisses resinating from-His heart of-mercy, grace-the folds-
every-nook-and-cranny-of the-lands. The-fullness-of His-consciousness-
the very-presence-of His-greater-hope ... has-placed-its-sweetness-rising-up-
in its-essence. Within-lowly-laying-effervescent; droplets-glistening-in the-
light, of His-joyous-rejoinder. Given for all; in love. Carried-in the-honest-
taste-the-freshness; of the precious morning-dew, and-in her-innocence;
truth; e'er-aware; and-seeing this-and being-fond of-His-presence thriving-within-
the-relative-ease and-dancing amid-the peace, emanating-from the-perfect-fruition-
of His-love. ~
~ Moves-to-cherish too, the-pureness ...
of-the-union ... ~
~ While rising, in-a blaze-of His-Glory; from the ashes of the past. A
new-day budding in the-wake of-its-freedom. Amid royal fields-growing-
still-fragrant more brilliant elaborate; of lavender. Has felt the-pleasure
of-His passion too, and-given the true-warmth and goodness-He has-always
been-open to provide. ~
~ Pausing-amid this beauty seen still rising in-spite-of-this out-of-the-ashes-
of-the-hate of the days of our past.
His-love remains, abides-for-us.
Why not-we-too all-move, to-look-to-cherish this like the-innocent; in their
freedom are-always striving ... to-do? ~
Loneliness is not what I’m looking forward to
Distress was not part of my gladness, so true
Oceanic, ominous waves bring me down sometimes, darling so free
Tension-packed, traumatic nervousness gives me moments of mere bravery
Oceanic, ominous waves swallow me whole and silence takes its toll substantially,
Eventually washing away the jubilance that blooms like the sun of the afternoon
Gladness and God’s grace makes me flutter away and sway away oh so beautifully
Like a suave butterfly out of a vicacious cocoon that flies in the month of June
Love from above is essential and beneficial to my heart of cold stone
I’m like a resonating, dynamic dove in the sky, then captivated in descending disheartenment
I rove in fields of blues and grays - the ominous waves, alone,
Have scared me off and made my optimism die and now, I am facing dire discouragement
Emotionally inclined and woeful waters spill out from my oceanic eyes
Getting rid of the guilty conscience and fighting back lust and lies
Crimson rain, like waterfalls, collide from the wounds of my heart’s desire
I want to be as pure as amber-colored auras around the rather dazzling fire
I’m as freezing hot as fire below the waters of wistfulness
I want to boil up your wondrous waves of blissfulness
I don’t want to look back at the ominous waves of fearful fretfulness
I don’t want to backtrack the sorrow from within you and I regardless
Majestic, mesmerizing movement of the sparkling sea moves us for an eternity
It brings me benevolent bliss and leaves the gloomy waves envious of our serenity
I just don’t want to be humiliated by hatred and its horrendous thunderstorm
Instead, let me feel the monsoons of meandering magnificence unfold and keep my kindred spirits warm
Evaporate the oceanic, ominous waves from tearing us apart -
Drown not my hopes and joys of my youth from my heart; give me a reason to venture on my own
We are a ship of vital vigilance and shimmering might from the start
I am much like a seashore-bound shipwreck, once wandering through the abyssal waters all alone
Ascending awesomely like the exuberant, extraterrestrial mountains
Oceanic, ominous waves try to break me into shards of empty misery,
Expressing my solitude’s serene solace through my poetic words
Loneliness is not what I’m looking forward to, but to release it like birds
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
Aurora stood at the gravesite close to Robert’s casket on the bier
“Look at her, why I’ve yet to see a tear”
The lady whispered to the other so Aurora could hear
“Her dress is disrespectful; it’s a heartless thing to wear
“My heart bleeds for her husband lying there”
This was Robert’s favorite dress and he always used to say
“Aurora, wear it for me when I ‘go away’
If you care and I know you do you’ll dare!
Aurora, promise me please no tears
We’ve known this moment was coming for almost two years.”
Aurora saw a man appear under the oak tree on the knoll
It was Robert walking in an unhurried stroll!
He used the “royal wave” he liked to imitate
Aurora repeated it in reverse, she didn’t even hesitate
She saw and felt him there emotionally reacting
Intellectually realizing “this can’t be happening!”
Staring at each other across the expanse of lawn
Sharing a last loving communication not as two but one
Robert blew her a kiss and walked out of sight
Trembling wildly, Aurora fought to stay upright.
A solitary tear fell from Aurora’s eye, she felt it descending
In slow passage down her cheek carving a groove blistering
Stories abound about this unique and mysterious solitary tear
Report it happens infrequently, only every several years
How or why the tear finds its mourner cannot be explained
The tear’s origin and source has yet to be discovered or named.
It’s said that a person’s intensity of inexpressible feelings
Make the tear appear by their profound grieving.
Aurora, like others, is disorganized and unfocused following Robert’s death
Making endless adjustments, trying to catch a breath
One day she touches the scar on her cheek made by that solitary tear
Her mind clears and it becomes an amazing day without confusion or fear
Salvation and comfort take many forms if you pray
Especially if you believe what God imparts in His way
She finally understands that Robert’s soul and spirit were not lost to her
And that living isn’t meant to be a meaningless blur
Robert rejoiced in living and in his love for her taught her to feel the same
They had priceless moments together more than she could count or name
And she starts recalling all the memories they made while husband and wife
Who’s to say what or whom finally brought Aurora back
And gifted her with a tender and loving renewal of her life.
She sprinted through a rugged woods
Away from free loading fathers and filthy no-goods,
Away from tear soaked teddy bears and lungs filled with smoke.
She found herself unmoving, crying in the arms of a weeping willow oak.
She is what remains of a fractured household,
A rotten tapestry of liquor stains, bruised bodies, and secrets untold.
She imagined what lied beyond the waterfall of misery that cascaded infinitely over her,
For she was stuck observing the world in a melancholy blur
Her blistered ankles fell weak and she crumpled towards the ground,
Peering up at a glistering light that left her wonderstruck, spellbound
She made out the shape of a body descending from above
They gazed at each other, her eyes as doleful as a mourning dove
He whispered in her ear as softly as the whistling wind,
Leaving her once perpetually dark world seeming only to be dimmed
He held out his hand to her and urged her to run away
To a place called Neverland, a world where all somber thoughts are kept at bay.
Though it seemed of her to be giving in to her broken mentality,
She longed for an escape from pain and poison personality.
As they floated above her home town,
She suddenly couldn't hear bottles shattering or doors breaking down.
She felt the pain lift from her small frame,
And the inferno of sadness that burned interminably was but a flickering flame.
They sailed across the second star to the right and flew straight on ‘till morning
She hadn't prepared for the wondrous sight before her that came with no warning
She broke through clouds that brushed her face with cotton candy kisses,
The world of true happiness and ephemeral sunshine was once real only in her wishes.
It was in the land of everlasting childhood that she was freed of all regrets,
And she held flowers between her fingers instead of cigarettes
Her face was flushed with shades of pink instead of black and blue,
And she decided it was time to write her story anew.
That night she traded her tattered nightgown for rags and a dirty fur coat,
She chose put her past in a bottle and set it afloat.
In that moment she could feel her true identity come unbound,
They called her Lost Girl, but in that moment she never felt more found.
Take The Dagger From My Heart, Please -2- Poetry Contest
N/A- 100 in a ROW contest--15 9/24/16
Who could forget what happened on that unsuspecting and sunny day,
when no visible clouds drifted over the Twin Towers?
Little after midnight, the cool rain adds to the melancholy
of the descending angels; and I join them in prayer to remember the tragedy!
This should be a day of remembrance, not of hatred for the ignoble acts
the wicked committed, but would God accept unkindness instead of merciful deeds?
They called it another day of infamy,
and like Pearl Harbor we were taken by surprise;
that was an attack aimed at the military,
but on September 11 the terrorists attacked the civilians!
It seemed like lightning striking down sturdy trees,
and then fire broke out with smoke trails of a thousands feet;
" O my God! ", every employee screamed...quickly running down
the stairs engulfed by fire...causing an indescribable chaos everywhere!
" Take my hand, I will lead you to safety! " the firefighter said to the coughing woman.
" Hold onto my arm! " the policeman yelled out to the frail man,
who had dropped his eyeglasses and couldn't see!
Every firefighter and policeman acted like them, rescuing many without fearing death;
and hundreds of them, that awful morning, never returned home alive...
what a tragedy for their families that watched in horror and couldn't help!
Who wouldn't remember the courage of their noble and willing hearts?
And furthermore, who wouldn't engrave their valorous names on plaques and monuments?
Up above, by the gates of Paradise...Christ and His Father awaited them to accept their souls;
while archangels surrounding God's throne, sung hymns that humans couldn't sing...
those hymns that all the earthly heroes will sing with them when Heaven mourns again!
Their portraits, pictures and memorabilia hang above the fireplaces,
and on the decorated walls of the victims' homes, precincts and firehouses;
how could anybody take them down as they were worthless items?
Prize them more than gold or diamonds, o friends grieving that tremendous loss even today;
don't hate those who caused you sorrow and unbearable pain, be forgiving and show mercy...
as God does toward us; o friends remember your heroes for their valor and sacrifice!
My poem is dedicated to the victims and survivors of the September 11 attacks on America.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Sojourners in a land not our own
seek we the place we will call our home
archetype of the promise you gave to Abraham
the future children they shall possess the land
Servants of the Truth dwellers of the tent
traveled upon your path wherever you them sent
faithful to your laws the life you for them choose
vast are your promises nothing here to lose
Happy is the one who listens to your voice
blessings you have offered who could refuse the choice
like Jesus laid down that life for Love that is True
the heavenly nature he hoped to give to you
And so in past are hidden all of our sorrows
but haunt they do the ghosts of our tomorrows
though dead and gone the memories of our past
their essences remain with us until the last
Like all those born we have fallen down
but you oh God have promised us a crown
hand picked you have only hearts of those be true
willing in Loves service your requests they do
Adoration for your wisdom clarity and light
hearts teaming with affection every day and night
a language the land of time forgot
touched by tragedy in the kingdom of the caught
Crushed and lost in the roads we have wandered
loyalty love and truth our characters been squandered
slaves to a system full of harmful thought
lack of loving kindnesses what the adversary brought
A dearth of justice , afflictions are the cost
removed from the garden all there we have lost
you have promised a return to the land of song
a paradise where all mankind will belong
We watch the events that have marked our time
your plan for the next age to bring all things in line
with urgency to keep the laws of Love in sight
for descending to earth is cast the Lord of night
Rejoice oh lovers the accuser from heaven banished
woe oh earth he comes a ravaging and famished
six millennia the blood of the prophets spilled
seeks now he does all of mankind killed
The only thing now holding back the winds
the sealing of the holy ones closing to its ends
our Son be hidden the rise of the false dawn
a century of warning has sounded the alarm
No more excuses lesson from our history clear
man has thrown away whats precious
and placed what is harmful dear
Politics and religions has laid the deadly snare
strangled and destroyed our ability to care
again this piece too long for Poetry soup
to finish this piece .....www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=412832645980
The great tribulation of Jesus Christ as a son of man on
Earth and a son of God in heaven. The prophesy of
God fulfill on the cross. The debt of sins paid by the
Blood of Jesus Christ, image of a man.
The infinite God of the universe came down from heaven to
The debt of the world. He gives justice to the sins of
The sinners to save the whole world. He suffered and died,
Buried and raised from the dead. His death guarantees
Forgiveness and eternal life. God became visible and
Intelligible to us. “ Oh come let us adore him Christ our
Savoir and Lord “. He makes things beautiful,
According to his mercy He saved us. The nail pierced
Hands of Christ reveal the love filled heart of God.
He carry the sins of the world on the cross, He punished by
Men beaten and sorrowful, every single stroke of various
Object use to beat Him causing a lot of His severe pain,
Wounded and painted body with blood.
The anxiety of the body is given in to emotion by pain.
The man put the hard substance forming a crown to
His head that makes Him feel uncomfortable.
The blood comes out to His head running
Down to His eyes through His face freely.
The anxiety of His body, muscle and vein broken and
Damage, so merciful! On the rough road way
He walks carry the cross beaten many times repeatedly,
The men laughing again and again and spatted him.
So strong pain, deep, through His senses image of a man.
On the cross, His hands and feet nailed, trembling His
Whole body deeply pain, the blood flowing every beaten
Stroke force of the hammer to His soft part of the body
Through His muscle and vein wounded. The bloods carry on
Struggling pain coming here and then to His flesh.
His breath fades away. An awful suffering of Jesus Christ,
His uttermost being, whispering to His spirit to go on,
Saying, “Father, why you just forsaken me... forgive them for
They didn't know nothing“, in your hands, I offer my spirit.
The word became flesh, we victorious because of His cruel
Dying on the cross. Hosanna in the highest! Praising you
Oh God in heaven and on earth.
The heaven open and the angels of God ascending and
Descending upon the son of the father in all His deity.
©Jocelyn Dunbar
2 April 2004
12: 30 PM
(My tears freely flowing down while I am writing this poem long time ago)