Long Downy Poems
Long Downy Poems. Below are the most popular long Downy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Downy poems by poem length and keyword.
We wanted to make a heavenly cake
But needed angelic ingredients
That were as far out of reach as can be
So we thought of other expedients
Like the famed store of unusual foods
Though it wasn’t around the corner
But then a melancholy light hit me
That we should seek a recent mourner
Who is akin to a newly deceased
Thus privy to a loved one in heaven
So I gently approached my grandfather
Hoping to make a mindful impression
I asked if he thought he could contact
The soul of my loving grandmother
To impart a glimpse of what they cook there
But he said that I should ask another
Making a heavenly cake like we planned
Was more trying than it first appeared
We needed to find some other way
Some way that may be more or less weird
I bravely entered a graveyard one night
With a shuddery moon full and blue
Hoping a spirit would come to my aid
With some heavenly food to pick through
But the creaking only got creepier
As each hour of that night crept by
And though frightened I got sleepier
With no ingredients to descry
Next day I dove deep in the library
About divine dishes present and passed
But couldn’t find one book apropos
So I went to the front desk and asked
The curator ventured to the attic
Where she recalled a very rare book
Aptly titled Eatin’ in Eden
With recipes for a heavenly cook
And on page one hundred fifty two
A recipe for heavenly cake
That purported the impossible
A trip to heaven to undertake
Yet most ways seemed too obnoxious
Even simply holding one’s breath
Which no matter how long it’s tried for
Is never enough for courting death
And if one died and went to heaven
How could they ever make the return
Back to earth to bake a divine cake
There was still much to this cake to learn
We flipped through every page of that book
To decipher somehow or some way
When we wondrously divined that the why
Was not where, but was plain as the day
The cake base is like a rich chocolate
Vastly deep as a moonless night sky
And while fudgy is light and airy
Certainly heavenly certified
Plus shrouded with fluffy cloud frosting
Of downy whiteness from pleasant dreams
That is also sweet as the sunshine
And piped with fresh rainbow hued creams
The cosmos cooks up celestial things
From the blue sky to heavenly cake
So after all that worry and work
It was in essence a breeze to make
There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.
The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.
There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight,
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.
There is many a song around a billabong
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...
... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree,
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.
An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.
There is many a scent around a billabong,
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.
Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.
Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.
The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog
will climb from the water onto an old log.
But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.
So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!
Dusty roads...'n tired...blue-eyes...till...I...CRIED...'n...DIED!
I'm...so...SORRY...I...LIED...TILL...I DIED!
How...would...I...EVER KNOW...it...was ALL A LIE?
He said..for better...or...FOR WORSE...and I...said...EVEN...FOR WORSE!
NOTHIN..BUT...LIES...till...I...DIED...AND DIED...my money...HIS LIES!
Summer Camp...a...TIME...IN-THE-SUN...'n BOWLS of FUN...and...CHILI 'n DOGS!
Journals 'n FUN...circling 'round...DUSTY ROADS...alone...LOST...TILL FOUND!
HE...WAS...SO BEAUTIFUL..and...so...WAS I...till...I DIED...when...SHE CAME 'ROUND!
I...came...'round...FROM ROUND-TO-ROUND...till...I CAME AROUND!
And...BEAUTY...did...HE...say...HE FOUND [from, "You're a fatty...and a ROUND NOSE!"]!
CHORUS:
Riding alone...on...a...WHITE STALLION...'n MY BLUE...SUEDE BOOTS!
Cool as a cucumber...HOTTER...than...WHISPERED... GOLDEN-FLAKES....on a
BED OF PINK & RED ROSES...on a...BED...of a...LAZY SUNDAY MORNIN...MY...
PUPPY...LOVE!
What starts as...GOLDEN-BURSTS & WHITE LILIES...and...leads...TO ALTARS...
Of...FORKS 'n THE ROAD!
D'IVERGENT...sheets of...PAIN...as...WATER...FALLS...on...MOTTLED-ROCKS!
I'M...RIDING...ALONE...on...a...WHITE STALLION...his...LETTER FALLS...as...a
SILKEN SCARF...I'M...RIDING...ALL...ALL ALONE!
From...dusty roads...to...DUSTY ROADS...from...SYLVAN FORESTS...to...
EMERALD CREEKS!
WE...RODE...TOGETHER...the...WINDS...WEAVING...OUR LIVES...
TOGETHER...till...WE...WERE LOST!
'N...MY...BLUE...SUEDE BOOTS...THE...MAN...ON-THE-MOON...whispered...
YOU...were...ALONE...AGAIN!
Riding...to...A...GOLDEN...SUNSET...YOU...GOT LOST...AGAIN...the...JEWELS...
On...a...DOWNY BED...YOU...GOT LOST!
BRIDGE:
The INNOCENCE...of...a...CHILD-HOOD...ROMANCE...the...HEART-OF...
A-PRINCE?
I...came 'round...FROM...ROUND-TO-ROUND...a...HEART...I...FOUND...
BUT...TORN...evanescence...of...PINK-CHAMPAGNE...'N-TEARFUL...
WISHES!
A day comes with a
morning dew,
For the words, less
to cope all few,
The breezy wave and
tweeting eyes,
Of rising sun, view
the Himalaya highs,
The trancing
eclipses and
faltering trees,
Held me there,
caught me freeze,
And the prevailing
dusky downy haze,
To falling cascade
of ivory rays,
Where I hied to let
it chase,
This beautiful
bounty widespread
haze,
I look & look, with
a glance and gaze,
With winking eyes
with hot cap,
I observed their
silent nap,
And whence the sun
rise and set,
Sparrow and humming
beak to get,
Food to survive and
maintain life,
And live on sharp
edgy curvy stemy
knife,
Above the grove and
in dense forest,
Where harmonious
peace dwells in the
nest,
Where leaves
levitate and birds
hove,
And oscillate with
desire, solidarity
in love,
A bird in this
hustle bustle,
Jingle jangle and
trilling rustle,
Are not base
generations, it’s
true so,
They rise through
reincarnation, and
grow,
Up to our believe
and reckon,
They are alive and
born,
I ask my conscience
where to hike,
Stood here and there
or by riding bike,
To feel the scent of
this rainy December,
Over my worries and
lethargy to
remember,
His never-ending
silence to end
daylight,
Made one statue,
stunned one bright,
And I put my towel
to have a shower,
This congeal water
pierces me by power,
Oh ablution is
enough for adequacy,
Count on, fend off
with sufficiency,
And when I walk on
flossy meadow,
The emerald tint
fell a shadow,
Upon my eyes to
sensory nerves,
Where the earth,
laid with several
curves,
The invigoration of
spirit rises up
more,
On rambling off and
on, this grassy
floor,
Over this belt with
buoying ways,
No alternate of this
land, O nays,
Where I felt about
flying upon,
Falling, right left,
up and down,
Then I move here and
there, up-to sun
height,
To meet buoyantly
this sunny light,
The sun with
magnetic warm and
beguile,
This morning with
candelabra wile,
Cause a man to wake
and woke,
Sing a flute while
sitting under an
oak,
How this mean, a
life less of
leisure,
Won’t you thrill
this grudgingly by
measure,
A world, an
embarrassment of
riches,
And a life with
plenty of beach’s.
Shahid Hussain
Chouhdry
Juniper blended with the richness of Mohagany
as the well soaped Maidens accompliced
in the impness of Dawn.
A strong coffee poulticed a hint of Cinnamon,
and Clove prepared expectations.
The morning fog was lifting her skirt
in a slow tease, as both veil and curtain.
A suspenseful reveal that caromed
with the steam of my cup.
A main event about to be undressed,
and redressed with the Maidens.
I johned in, in that usual unpure-,pure- folly.
Knew it was welcomed guest,
practically an extorter, to creep in at any hour,
in to steal a gloat in unwarded cameo.
This inadvertently but unthwarted- headtable-
"honored guest", that shared more and more
in my ritual of daydreams, that intertwined
also into some of my more run of the milled needs.
Melding more and more,
as a dysfunctional elixir of happenstance,
and of either need or greed.
I found them also, the "Barista Girls",
like a gaggle of something curious- in cackle,-
buying entrance with teased looks mocking,-
my inflammation of inflection,-
with their vixened vexation,
-but also in snare; flared to wonder their wander
into mine stare.
One of a thawing malaise,- of curiousity shops
and shared spaces.
Places:
Coffee bean aroma and aproned bread
trinkets- become a "suitable"
showcase.
I realized its humorous "colorance"
in poetic knowledge's abionce.
"Man shall not live by bread alone."
But the scone was a genius match.
Something to chew on.
A fitting poetry, (binding really)
by the Master Story Setter- that forbode,-
the Protaganist himself and also let me know
that, 'he is aware of my dirty thoughts.':
To prop my stage and to reflect as a mirror does.
To hold in check the soul.
How the pillows fluffed.
My thoughts blanketed me,
"tucked me to the chin" with their silkys
and fuzzy warmths.
Feathers that cascade in a rockabye lull-fashion.
My system of down.
Downy.
Snuggle.
Oh women will be my downfall.
Vipers that push their venom.
"I think God created coffee and tea
with Poet in mind."
I rebuked my thoughtful sins to Him
and left a healthy tip for them.
5.
As we hear love’s thousand guitars,
we leave our song within the stars,
our love does sing throughout the bars.
I leave my rose within your heart,
dreams of love, they shall ever start,
two hearts are one we shall not part.
Within your heart love’s rose does grow,
our precious hearts with love do flow,
your precious lips, my lips do know.
In starlight glade, our love astounds,
Oh, beauty fair, our love abounds,
gentle embrace, I hear no sounds.
And as we love in starry yards,
my heart is yours, within the stars.
6.
My heart is yours, within the stars,
wonder does play love’s own guitars,
my beloved, we sing on Mars.
My dearest angel, love shine’s bright,
I love our dreams, within the night,
my loving heart beats with delight.
As passion flows, love, we do bring,
you are desire, our hearts do sing,
you are desire, on golden wing.
In passion’s thrall, by starlight stream,
we do lie there, in Luna’s beam,
you are love’s rose, within our dream.
In starlight glade, in ancient stars,
alone in carousel cars.
7.
Alone in carousel cars,
downy clouds that float through the stars,
singing together, here to Mars.
My Valentine, sing in my soul,
you are now my ultimate goal,
to enter your heart, kisses the toll.
Your serenade is love’s own song,
in my heart, you ever belong,
hear we are, away from the throng.
Come, walk with me, along the way,
by starlight stream, our temple’s play,
from you, my love, I shall not stray.
The darkness falls before my eyes,
so soon, a new scene shall arise.
8.
So soon, a new scene shall arise,
our thoughts do rise to paradise,
we now belong in Heaven’s skies.
Once more a pall of darkness falls,
a brand new dream our soul recalls,
sunlight shines as the daylight calls.
We can dream, more than black and white,
daylight colours cover the night,
there you stand, my love, shining bright.
White sand under your feet shining,
warm your heart, your soul divining,
love’s warmth is yours, no pining.
A bright azure now fills the skies,
together, we find paradise.
She removed the drops of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her garden glove, leaving nature’s makeup in its place, a small streak of brown soil. As I stared at her, she put her hand above her eyes in a salute to block the sun. With a quizzical look she said, “What?” I laughed out loud. “Nothing” I said, lowering my head and shaking it side to side. She extended her arm pointing to the bottom of the yard and proceeded to tell me her plans. I was too busy looking at her to hear the words. My eyes moved from her face tracing along her extended arm. In the sunlight, golden downy hairs glistened on her forearm. Small blue rivulets of vein flowed across the back of her hand, curving around tiny islands of age spots. At night she always used the latest cream, rubbing eagerly in hopes of erasing them. She never could read a map or she would have known, Landmarks define a territory. It is our familiarity with landmarks that make each place a home. At the tip of her outstretched finger I stopped, reluctant to continue, as my eyes would have to leave her. At her insistence, I forced myself. “You aren’t even looking.” she said impatiently. I responded with a half-truth, “I am looking.”
She taught me things I never knew about her garden. I never noticed her begonias remained in bloom into October. Her marigolds, in yellow spotted pots, were planted just for fun. Luxurious lupines leaned into squat hostas that hoarded space, bleeding hearts were all over the place. Beautiful tender crocuses were gone too soon. Pelted by early hail, stoned to death for their loveliness by angry, jealous gods. Vibrant coleus leaves, daisies, lilacs, and hollyhocks. Roses, pansies and morning glories, impatiens, all with different stories. Petunias, violets, and daffodils sharing space in flats or on hills. She introduced them to me one by one. I made a friend of each and when her the tour was done, I left her resting in the sun.
Like her flowers, she was looking toward Heaven, unaware that being with her I always felt as though I was already there.
There are some,
from birth are marked by melancholy,
The silent shades of sorrow,
are their congenial haunts.
The glades of grief are the only places,
their leaf can flourish.
Others, who through some crushing misfortune,
Being brought so low,
never holding up their heads again,
but go, mourning all the way to their silent graves.
Some, again,
disappointed in their early youth,
Either in some fond object of their affections,
or else in some project of their young ambitions.
Never can dare to face the world,
Shrinking from contact with their fellows,
Curling up their tendrils like the sensitive plant.
In all flocks,
there must be lambs,
The weak and wounded sheep.
Even among the flock of God, the Elect
It is the duty, of those of us,
who are freer than others,
Who found liberation from despondency of spirit.
Be very tender to the weak ones.
Far be it,
from the man of courageous disposition,
Being hard on those.
timid and despairing!
If we have a lion-like spirit,
let's not imitate the king of beasts,
Expressing cruelty,
on those timid fallow deer that fly before them.
Let us place our strength at their service,
Reaching out to help in protection of them. .
With downy fingers,
bind up the wounded heart,
On our hands,
gloves and bandage,
Being there nourishing their fainting spirits!
In this walk of life,
let the unwounded warriors bear their injured comrades to the rear.
bathe their wounds,
cover them from the storm of war.
Being gentle to those who are desponding!
Some deal with others,
roughly handed thoughtlessness,
"Ah," they say,
"if such a one is so foolish as to be sensitive, let him be."
Being sensitive,
timid and desponding is ill enough in itself,
without us being hard,
and cruel towards those who are so afflicted!
Go forth and do to others,
As you would that others should,
in your hours of despondency,
deal with you tenderly and comfortably,
so, deal tenderly and comfortably with them.
Lambs, wounded sheep,
Christ died for each one of them.
In loving memory of Silly
The ominous clouds brew, icy darkness looms,
Evil cackle flashes sparks of its menacing fangs,
Sinking them deep into my soft yellow downy,
Yanking me apart, leaving me naked and lonely.
I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
I look at my nest up in the tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?
Gnarled tree branches snatched away my home,
Clawing, ripping and towering tall over me,
The fall - blurred vision of trees, terror painfully gnaws,
Now, only, cold and numbness as I cannot feel my claws.
I inch forward slowly to find a worm.
Mama would have picked some for me.
But now, I scarce can see no hope,
The bittersweet taste of the worm makes me choke.
Suddenly, I find I am nestled in a little girl's hands.
The slightest tinge of warmth delights me,
Gently, she ruffles through my scarce feathers,
Puffing up, I brace the changing weather.
The pungent smell of the rain stings my nostrils,
I chirp helplessly in disgust,
Tears from the sky pelt on me, lashing out angrily,
I retreat, sink back in, and cry along silently.
Her home smells of fresh toast,
Mine smells of juicy worms, but I settle in anyway.
The fall has crushed my feet in its cruel hands,
My feet are broken, I cannot stand.
For the next few hours, I wallow in misery.
She knows nothing about my agonising pain,
But fits me into a sock to keep me warm,
As I listen to the sighing trees mourn.
The sock begins to feel cold and icy,
I try to swallow the slimy papaya she mushed,
But in my throat, the concoction swells and becomes thicker,
Burning sensation, daylight flickers.
I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
The rain distorts my view of my tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?
Mama......
You guaranteed my freedom one day
You never said the price I had to pay
To never see another sun ray
Mama......
If my life were a thread, it would now have frayed
What little daylight I saw had become grey
And as I cuddled up and started to pray
Mama......
I became an angel today.
Airship
How far I’ve flown I neither know nor care.
Much as this open deck my plans are bare.
Of star or compass I have nary need,
But follow as these downy cloud tops lead.
The chilly breezes toying through my hair
Cascade across my skin and jacket flare
While on the bottoms of my booted feet
The engine taps an unrelenting beat.
I acquiesce to gentle bob and sway
Beneath balloon and rigging bloated shape.
Awaiting now the nearly risen sun
I scan the vast expanse and see no one.
And yet, I hear a rumbling of some sort
Then luminescing clouds off to my port
Combusting deep with ever brighter tones
Now booming louder, louder, nearer, NO!
Bombastic airship, cannons bursting now,
Ejected straight at me from out its shroud.
A maniac, that pilot, heaving hard
Just missing our collision by one yard
His tortured face, the horror in those eyes,
For near destroying me, so I surmised,
Until I saw his passing stern ablaze.
Then mammoth winged beast in brutal chase
Erupting, fierce and howling, scales agleam.
The hot concussion of its down-spent wing
That final moment as it thrust away
Forced ship and I and all the world to sway.
Then came the screams, the pounding and a moan
As crew and cargo floundered down below
Caught in the violent swinging disarray.
The flaming ship and dragon sped away
To disappear in yet another cloud.
Our vessel’s motion finally calmed down.
Those lightly injured put the ship aright.
And unspilled rum was quickly spent that night.
Now star and compass were of urgent need.
This damaged vessel and the injuries
Required that we find a ready port
Equipped to lend us aid of every sort.
I searched in haste upending fore and aft
For sextant, compass, and the proper map,
Then finally we found the guiding star
And made for help that wasn’t very far.
By dawn I bid the floating docks goodbye
With only half a crew and resupply
But, now where'er I travel through the sky
I keep the navigation tools nearby.