Long Dotes Poems
Long Dotes Poems. Below are the most popular long Dotes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dotes poems by poem length and keyword.
Verd meadow yon shadowed sequoias,
Patterns has lent the scope neath the petals,
Pixies wake on the tips of true choices,
Heightens an ochered sun amidst voices,
Looms about a faint trace of pink mettles,
Verd meadow yon shadowed sequoias,
Tattered remnants of coral sprays joyous,
Whilst they'd be assets in blossom vessels,
Pixies wake on the tips of true choices,
Grooves a pass graced with nectarous noises,
Virtuous domain sprung through laced specials,
Verd meadow yon shadowed sequoias,
Noble claims dotes a wishing well deploys,
Nigh, not far they'd be for all our revels,
Pixies wake on the tips of true choices,
Submit the crush much, us the true toilers,
Sparkled dusk fades long lives of their fettles,
Verd meadow yon shadowed sequoias,
Pixies wake on the tips of true choices.
Date: 06/10/2019
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Domestic feline bliss peaks at its meow,
Cats' mantra - don't sweat about tomorrow!
While humans stress over power of now,
Cats nap, sleep, doze and rest - taking it slow.
Soft to the touch and easy on the eyes,
Will never hurt a fly, but death to mice.
Being pampered and spoiled is a must,
Cat kind demands and dotes on TLC.
Once their adoptive servants earn full trust,
Stroking both fur and ego is the key!
Curled cozy on your lap they purr divine,
Leaving the barking frenzy to canine.
Cats' curiosity may cross the line,
No harm, they bounce right back, quite satisfied -
It's a proud privilege of the feline
To risk one of their lives, utter upside!
We wonder since ancient times to these days
At their amazing, acrobatic grace.
To join cats' club one ought to vow
To purr in discreet dialect of meow.
February 19, 2023
"Lo! the dolphin dotes laughs
My passion is the maritime coast
'Ocean!' said I, 'thing of seawater.'
Oceans dolphins
In a kingdom full of coastlines
Eagerly I looked for the seaway
I crave the marine, more mare
That up bound jellyfish - that unbound jellyfish
I felt compelled to sniff the territorial waters
I am shorn of my catfish
I discovered the riverbanks
Suddenly, I heard some tiding
Rise, fly mighty dolphin up through the skies
And its eyes have all the ponding
Resulting and resulting with my pacific
But in the fact that it was fluttering
I had dreamed of ribs cluttering
Only this and a ameba
The west water whaling
The dry dock smiled
How they were curtailing, prevailing - derailing
I discovered the crayfish
I crave the marine, amidships maritime
Ah, distinctly I was swallowing
Rise, fly mighty dolphin up threw the skies"
11/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
King Midas cannot compare with an abundance of gold
Such earthly treasure ground, roasted and lo and behold
Blessed from the ancient merchants of the Africa’s and the East
It is more than a suave sip, for mortals are drawn to a feast
Of an aroma that cascades and hits all the right notes
Served on the world’s climates, iced, chilled, warm - a hot roast one dotes
That occasionally makes the heart skip a beat
The bold bitter brown elixir tingles one’s feet
Surely, we are bestowed such pleasures to alleviate strife
Craving that one sip and revelling in our short worldly life
Journey Journal Page
CONUNDRUM
By Leon Enriquez
Such are the seven ages of man:
Life’s true conundrum in fresh game plan —
“Sleepy” the helpless infant child spills,
Crying bouts as strange wonder reveals;
“Happy” the whining schoolboy thus drills,
Fumbling with painful homework that grills;
“Dopey” the emotional lover thrills,
As girls and hormones urge foolish odd feel;
“Bashful” the devoted soldier bills,
Bold yet rash as fearless passion steals;
“Doc” the wise stern judge with cryptic ills,
As vain views and ideas splice goodwill;
“Sneezy” the clueless old man gulps pills,
Ageing has brought dread and change he feels;
“Grumpy” the corpse dotes on death as fate wills,
Senile mind-body droops to fade downhill;
On this mortal journey quest decide,
Let body-mind, heart and soul abide;
Here and Now watch fate curl and swirl form,
Live well your craft and evolve through storms;
Just for today extract joy from pain,
Discern and learn yet live not in vain;
Our time on these earthly shores is brief,
Gratitude and humility frame gist;
Ephemeral our drama and daze,
Transitory our wit, whim and craze;
A brief bubble on a vast sea of time,
Floating in the momentum of still mimes.
Leon Enriquez
02 August 2023
Singapore
I believe there’s a Being that dotes on His. creatures,
I believe that He holds the key to hidden treasures,
I believe He knows when we walk through midnight,
I believe He sees with perfect light.
I believe He comprehends the tempest in our chambers,
Though they permute in soaring numbers,
I believe He notices each door dawn brings to us,
And sees every loss.
I believe He remembers we’re feeble,
Even though we don’t come humble,
I believe He listens to our heart cries,
And knows the outcomes of life's dice.
I believe we're not on a lone flight,
He partners with us whatsoever the height,
I believe He knows why life is a battlefield,
For He bears the day's shield.
I believe He can aid us to unravel deep mysteries,
And uncover unknown histories,
I believe He sees through the dark,
Even though it hides the sought-after mark.
December 16, 2022.
*Image of Aesteticness by Pixabay.
Boxed Souper
"I now wish I had your eyes...it wasn't yours, it never was." By the poet.
Still...
There have been a few too many,
I take into account,
those flatteries, good and plenty,
...that spurt, I do not doubt.
Cause and effect make the river stream flow,
Upward or downward and what beats the path,
Pleasant repertoire or a quid pro quo.
High profilers entertain muffled wrath,
Fewer chips on the table, losers throw,
All the same kind face my Royal Flushed--bath.
No contrast chancing with a quill,
few dotes, and left comments.
Nominal spew mandated nil,
hail those righteous contents.
...still!
2023 January 07
RZ & HMS.
FILLY’S FAMOUS STORY
Although I am pink, don’t ever think
That this filly is just frilly and silly,
For I am a thorough bred filly who instead
Of eating just oats, for my owner dotes
On me, am fed in a pasture of my very own,
Whose green grass is a sight to be seen,
And oh, so pristine!
What is my mode of work you might ask,
It certainly does not involve any task,
For I am shown off to the rich and elite,
Who think it’s an absolute treat,
To be shown a beauty like me
I do sound vain but where else would
They find a pink filly to see!
My mane is brushed every day,
With a gold plated brush by Fay,
She is so proud, I always draw a crowd,
And is quick to explain, I’m a descendant
From the stables of the ex and late
Senator Nicholas Brady, I’m no ordinary lady!
Fay has desperately tried to find me a mate,
But am truly fussy, I know my destiny and fate
Is not from the regular horses around, but to be
Found amongst the Arabian horses abroad, for imagine
A local brown dowdy horse, I’d be fraught!
Yes I’m a snob, my mate must be a real heart throb,
For my vision and dreams are of never
Ending meadows, and flowers, and trees and streams
And a handsome horse of the same breeding as me,
Maybe even a Lipizzaner who has a reputed background,
They have been around for quite a while, Fay reads
My thoughts and gives me a smile, hey Frilly don’t
Stress pretty friend, for it is my eternal intent,
That you be matched one day with an aristocratic
Horse, and together you will take a romantic course,
And have little foals, of which one might be pink,
So never, ever think that your predominant,
Pink genetic line will become extinct, you re such a
Refined fine filly, nothing about you is silly,
You will go down in history and be recorded,
As the most beautiful pink horse ever born,
Have patience, you will be rewarded!
Frilly looked at Fay, and gave her a neigh,
She loved Fay so, would Fay ever know, Frilly
Hoped so, for if Fay looked deep into Frilly’s
Eyes, Fay would know that she had won
Frilly’s heart as first prize!
Entering contest "A Fairy Tale For Children"
Sponsored By EVE ROPER
2019/01/27
If house a boat be for journey of life,
Balconies be the in-built safe harbours
To set anchors, to breathe peaceful fresh air,
If journeys get caught in a stormy sea.
Balconies big or small, view there’s or none,
Two buildings staring at walls each to each
Like guests yawning at wedding too dull gone,
Still working well as true windows to world
To visit-- not for a fresh burst of breeze,
But often to escape from tyranny
Of life within walls of concrete and bricks
That needs some fresh life-breath of oxygen.
No piece of concrete, one’s own republic,
Nay, a no-man’s neutral territory
For a fatigued soul to breathe in freedom
And live a life that can be called one’s own….
Teenagers when feel frustrate for freedom
And grandfather’s realm gets shrunk to his chair,
When a husband deems it wise to keep mum,
Whoso fatigued when finds it too unfair.
If book of life gets bogged at preamble,
A place ‘tis to seek refuge -- last resort--
Balconies how so claustrophobic dull,
A pilgrimage there pays like a safe port.
‘Limit there’s to it all, and to my grit’,
No voice of despair this, but a verdict,
Nor a sign of dysfunctional family,
One that loves, dotes deeply, debates daily.
All balconies blend like birds of feather
That learn to live, caught confined to tether,
They are no bitter pills swallowed somehow,
And no brick-mortar walls, but built of wow,
Ah balcony, what a life-sustaining
Oxygen-- a space that enhances house
That gets rid of redundant dioxide--
One that accrued sibling resentment douse.
___________________________
Musings | 15.05.2026 | balcony, house, family, freedom, Blank verse
Note: Continued in Part II
The huntsman and his peregrine
Woods was all his belongings
The huntsman's only pride and his holy livelihood
Flew an injured peregrine to his land one evening
Her quill feathers perfumed of mountains and coastal
She was somebody or someone of a kind like peregrine species of grass
He beholds an earnest affection for this creature
Full of dotes well up inside her injuries and wounds
One dawn when sun rises and it's scorching rays erased everything into ashes ...
'His love for her
Her faith on him'
And the woods inscribed-
Her blood of despair
Her thirst for life
Her soul sheds tears miserably
But the huntsman owes no mercy to his once beloved peregrine
Pain was all
Pain is all
Pain shall be
Isn't this Pain, how can be composed of such tinsy four letters word
Isn't this Pain, more hungry and greed for massive depth inside the broken soul
Isn't this Pain, stands injustice to the medicine called painkillers doses
Isn't this Pain, a tryst with life each breathe and those wounds just spiced up again!
The huntsman or my beloved man;
His peregrine or I was his beloved (once)!