Long Dormant Poems
Long Dormant Poems. Below are the most popular long Dormant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dormant poems by poem length and keyword.
WONDERS OF IX A (2019)
Millennium is a box of wonders which crave
To get knowledge, values, principle and love.
In my satchel I have eight wonders that drive
Me crazy, frenzied, rabid. But lo how I love
All of them. Composed, wise sane and active
Never fought like cat and dog, or out move.
The first gems Radhika and Ansh, my nerve
One very intelligent, diligent, other silent groove,
Charming, diligent, a helping hand, a sweet dove.
Second are Vidhi and Dhruv, who do their give
Best, oppose, are animadvert, but most all of
Love teachers. Third Pranjal and Mustafa brave
Charming, exasperating, lovely, do behave
Cooly, assist me in executing discipline, gave
Best of them, never rude or arrogant do they prove.
Fourth are Chahat and Vishnu, tacit, cute curve,
Taciturn, intermittently garrulous but catch nerve,
One a couch potato, other eats humble pie is brave.
Fifth wonders are Shikha and Shashank, positive
In my class, effusive, gabby, loquacious, talkative
But sweet natured children, take care of AC groove.
The next wonders are Milsi and Kanan, Gujju native,
Another prolix, chatty and gabby ones who grieve
With Dwij for class indiscipline; all sweethearts of
Sanket, caring, dormant, at times quarrelsome, at eve
Spend time contemplating on their studies. Above
All is Dweesha and Dwip, short tempered, proactive,
Loquacious, friend in enemy, reserved is ready give
Their 100 percent against me with conjurer's glove,
But close to my heart. The last but not least brave
Girl is Vidhi, a Jain, reputed, calm, cute, does have
Empathy for me and Krunal. A sweet girl, will leave
Never just, devoted, staunch behaviour, an octave
Of skills, trustworthy, allegiant, harmonious dove.
In a nutshell, all sixteen are big bucks, a brown clove.
All these eight wonders with Dev, Helik, Vasu move
Crumblesome elements out of my class - proactive.
Mithil, Harsh, Sarthak are above the salt persons. Five
More are wonders driving away my talent out of cave.
I thank again most reverent Kekul madam to pave
A voluble path of IX A with such obedient constructive
Students. Guidance of Sandeep and Sushil inductive;
I counted noses, am success with method inductive.
All dandies, make me a proud, ostentatious teacher alive.
Autumn has dressed up in pretty auburn
by pulling all the lifeless leaves
off the dormant, cold trees;
and every bird, that once thrilled everyone's heart,
has glanced upon this scenery and sadly gone south,
and I like them...I dream of a spring in green!
Under these swift feet the dry leaves of November crack,
and my path feels hard and is visible no more;
here and there, I trip on a hidden stone
which slows me down as a reminder of the winter's whack...
when heavy snowfalls and violent storms will batter this paradise,
but who else will call upon imagination and fantasize?
Days and months I'll check off my calendar:
December with its first snowflakes and ice...
gleaming on my soft and distant meadow;
January covering everything with soft snow,
February with its constant gelid skies,
and March bringing back the songbirds to my door!
Unmerciful winter, don't let this aloneness curb my freedom,
once in a while entice it with the spurious presence of sunshine...
not disobliging my wishes and turning me into a butterfly:
to revive a vision of the of bluest skies where clouds roam;
by a riverside I will lay in comfort...glazing its flow,
until this newly found joy will end any thought of sorrow!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
I love you more than you know;
and yet you know my love is sure;
you've know me always;
you know the number of hairs on my head;
and I love you;
And you love me;
and it's pure;
this I know;
and I love you;
and you love me
love and it
and it
shall never end
your grace will never
your mercies you forever extend
I'll be right here settling, settling, settling in;
and yet you know my love is sure;
and you known me for always;
and you know the number of the hairs on my head;
and You love me
and I love you for always
and it's pure;
this I know
your love will Lord, never end;
and your love will, never end
and your love will, never end
you've been here before my beginings and your love will never end;
I'll be your bride, be by your side;
You've be the bride-groom married together forever heavenly;
and yet you know my love is sure;
and you know that my love is pure;
and you known my name from before my birth;
and you love me
and your love for me shall be
and it's shall never end, never end;
Your hope is my present company;
you're all I need, all I need this I receive just from you;
Lean me give me a helping hand;
you're all I need forever and eternally;
and your grace will, never end
your love shall, never end
and your faithfulness shall never end, no never end;
and I'll be here settling in, just dormant worshiping;
As I await my Lord, My King Lord Jesus your love for me shall
never end
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
from anthology "There's Praise in Song"(c)2012
Sept 25 2012
“Collecting life’s treasure from the moments of bliss I walk the last mile” - Quote by Poet
In the vibrant life’s changing dynamic landscape,
the pathway across the undulating topography
meandered to the nebulous future beyond escape.
I configured desire in the template of transient time,
and the designed footprints of the dormant destiny
I followed ardently in beguiled mental state sublime.
Many surging streams in spate I swam in the storm
with the unfurling buds of nascent dreams held close
to the adoring heart, lest they wither and deform.
Through the rainbow arch in the chromatic sky
as I chased in the floral valley the passion butterfly,
my ardent yearning on its wings soared high.
As the spent sun sinks in the horizon’s fading color pile,
on the faint trail of time covered by twilight dust,
with the cornucopia of fulfilled life I walk the last mile.
Traversing content the unpaced pathway out of abyss,
lighted by the benevolent glow of God’s grace,
I look back to see the snapshots of the moments of bliss.
In spirited life’s changing vibrant landscape,
the paved path along the contours of uncertainty,
winds to the undefined time future,
beyond the perception time present.
Desire takes shape in the template of thriving time,
as I traverse sanguine in the state of trance,
follow the invisible compass crafted for me
by the supreme designer of dormant destiny.
Through many surging storms I saunter
with the buds of unfurling dreams,
held close to the indulgent heart,
lest the flowers shatter and the petals fly away.
In the valley of longing I chase fervent butterflies
through the rainbow archway to the sunburst sky,
where my avid yearning soars high,
wafting on ardent wings with the amorous cloud.
As my twilight time is tinged by the spent sun,
sinking down the horizon shrouded by discontent dust,
with the cornucopia of the listless life unlived,
I walk the last mile in the blind alley.
As the dark night of despair descends on me,
firefly of hope flashes with moonbeam filament,
kindling lucent lines of lamps at the dead end,
in the residual time I’m toiling in my journey to meet.
I seek the benevolent grace of the almighty to guide me,
search for the serene path to the sublime sanctum
for my sanctified soul to reside in bliss,
and to show me the way out of the cul-de-sac.
_______________
February 8, 2023
Title chosen : Cul-De-Sac
Contest : This Or That, Vol. 16
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
For Brian Strand No.1201 Contest
The beguiling butterfly you are
to my enchanted eyes,
paint no tempting patina of touch
on the flower I’ve bloomed for you.
As the leitmotif of your delusion is stripped
for a few tantalizing transient moments,
unprompted revelation unveils the heart,
creates the craving current of concealed fervor,
on which the flakes of my yearning float
in the seamless sea of your sight.
You don’t sense they change colors of desire
until you morph the eyes into passion prism.
As I discern my dormant instinct
embrace the floral fascination of longing,
my sensuous soul makes it perceptible,
albeit an attracted entranced fly,
I fly blind into your fire, turn to ashes.
In the whirlwind of the turning time,
sweeping away the dust of memory,
someday I’ll rise to fly in your sky.
______________
October 11, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest
The arid forest's grounds
are paved with dry and riddish leaves
that the whimsical wind loves
to take off the shivering sages!
Whoever hears the cries of the ravens
is a soul that sympathizes their agony;
they have sought consolation,but found pity...
in that heart ardently singing praises!
The swirling November's raindrops
land on the thirsty and light foilage...
without the strenght in their rage;
Nature ashamed to flaunt her diamonds
that nourished and embellished her tree-tops:
Nature retrieved to her dormant state!
A gloomy day for the angry shrikes that seem ample...
waging war with the presumptuous thrush
that throws glances by flapping his long wings;
an unexpected lightning strikes the growing maple,
pulling it from its roots,making those shrikes dash...
birds have better instincts that human beings!
I witness the wrath of the squall...
bringing down a centenary oak,
which is flung across before a hard fall;
I,enfeebled but not frightened,make my oath
underneath a sorrowful forest...
as dark as a secret put to rest!
The mountain stream chisels a valley
as narrow as the neck of a swirling swan.
The water dancing down in concerto of cascades,
crashing on the rocky ledges,
splashes silver drops spiraling like ballerina.
They carry the poetic expression,
the stream proffers to the rock and to the sky.
The water rushing down the vale in a torrent,
rolling on the polished pebbles strewn on the bed,
sings an endless song of divine jubilation.
It carries the poetic expression,
the stream proffers to the pebbles and to the vale.
Magnolia trees line the slant slopes of the valley,
green as the emerald waters of the deep sea.
The aureate leaves dancing in the rippling breeze
fall softly rustling on the ground,
whisper the autumn tunes to the dew-crowned grass.
They carry the poetic expression,
the trees proffer to the breeze and to the grass.
The moonlight sequins flood the alley
with romantic mist as mystic as the secrets of heart.
For the young couple drowned entranced in dream
the touch of love makes the silence play violin.
It carries the unwritten lyrics,
the couple says to the dreams and to the silence.
As the street lamp lights the alley in moonless night,
in its glow as soft as the touch of the spring zephyr,
a mother walks like an angel through the heavenly cloud,
carrying her child on her tender arms.
The child’s vague voice only the mother understands,
the kiss she gives touches the heart the child feels.
These are metamorphosed verses,
the child echoes and the mother says in a kiss.
From the sprouting emotions bloom the fervor buds
under the convivial canopy of subtle sensitivity,
casting heavenly colors on the poet’s psychic canvas.
As the twilight sequesters sonorous silence in stalled time,
the poetry of life flows under the star-studded sky
with the fluid passion rhythmically sequined.
The winds of imagination blows through the mindscape,
raising the dust of dormant sentiments unbound,
turning them into a surging storm of creative urge.
On its wings flies with afflatus the poet profound.
Greetings, hello I just know
Alpha line poetry's a toxic write
Demented moment my muse is slow
Brainpower dormant, what a plight!
Loves magic's now over, pain
Loss endured feeling sorrow
no use ranting nothing to gain
Speechless lament colours tomorrow.
A bashful cavalier dreams everynight
Images filled with yearning hunger
Sparkling blue eyes will at last delight
His bleak lonely life torn asunder.
Contest
Alpha Lines
Sponsored
by
Joseph May
Deadline August 26/08/2021
I have a feeling this Alpha Line poem is not as precise as it should be, my apologies if this is the case.
The mass production of coal is dead,
Buried infer lamps carried on the head,
Halogen miners sang the unforgiving dirge,
With fragments of flaky particles emerge,
Drilling hammers that smote the ground,
Never again to hear its rumbling sound.
Voices roar like dragons in damp vapour,
Highlighted the dangerous drudgery caper.
Its miners turn to face the cold idle breeze
Lusty diggers of cave brought to their knees.
Dust off running tears in nocturnal eyes
Sparkled pay in dissonant redundancies.
Tipping poison pouring out of their coat,
Coals brightly burn diamonds in the heat.
Hem and skirt tossed away in good wave,
The blockade collapsing stairs of the brave.
Sad hearts dramatically ending the way of life,
Kiss the face pioneers abandon with cheek.
Dirty power of bygone industrial revolution,
The demise ends centuries of veiled tradition.
Looks that is lost on the cloudy grey glare,
Tunnels bearing signature of the slender tear.
Tattoo rippled down on jagged wall mirrors,
Romantic fires to stare at the mantle towers.
Underground roads in loops of fuel suspended,
Prison row of tombs lay silently on the cold bed.
Rock fractals calling from cold depth of earth,
Snuffed out the foggy union in oblivious wrath.
Dripping tar brooms lay on the dormant floor,
Once supplied daily ration meals for the poor.
Now the pit is shut leaving the empty trucks,
Pulling the souvenirs bearing burden buckets.
Into the nostril part of murky breath exhale,
Indifference steps crystallised among the stubble.
Can we face climate change of clean living?
In the beautiful candescent global warming.