Long Dragonflies Poems
Long Dragonflies Poems. Below are the most popular long Dragonflies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dragonflies poems by poem length and keyword.
My Missing Muse
I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.
My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.
Lately I lack poetic thought, thus I’m feeling quite distraught.
Maybe new themes will come to mind, if I read some antique poems of mine.
I have written about nature,
birds like ducks,
a child’s marker freckles,
a coffee cup.
A retired boat resting on the shore,
dirty socks behind a door.
I’ve penned 2 poems about Monet and VanGogh.
Now Degas? I don’t know.
Lady Di who danced in her royal gown,
but sadly now listens to angel sounds.
Her love for people was always increasing, but my poetic thoughts,now decreasing.
A teapot and a tuffet, diddle diddle dee.
A sweet little bundle came to me.
Blueberries grow on a bush not a tree!
Still no ideas will come to me.
Two tired tulips on my windowsill doze.
Three ladybugs on a daffodil pose.
Now is the time I need to compose!
A chorus frog’s peeping has a dancing beat,
clicking,
croaking,
repeat.
Jumping rope in heels, the teacher who tried her best.
Feathered fledglings sleeping in a Blue Egg mommy’s nest.
There is a wee granny in my apple tree.
Bring your appetite, then you’ll see!
Trees dressed in acorns
Protect our seas
Echoing owls between forest trees.
No new ideas coming into my head ?
My muse is hiding, I dread.
Cronkite,a reporting wiz,
closed the news, “That’s the way it is”
An unbiased journalist one could trust.
Integrity, sincerity and principles, a must.
TV shows,
Winter fairies on tiptoes.
Still I have the blank slate woes!
A path of moonlight, dragonflies.
Slowly summer says goodbye.
Soon the southern birds will fly.
Smell the season sunshine.
Crowds that cheer, “Alley Oop”
As basketballs find their longed for hoops.
Aunt Gloria was warm in her Irish blue.
Little boy Benjamin lost his little shoe!
His sister found it, "PEE U”
“Hooray” I cheer. Now it seems more clear, I feel my blank slate might disappear.
I’m suddenly feeling passion for more creative action!
Imagination,inspiration,determination!
My mental blankness is washing away.
New topics to write about, coming into play.
Now upside down silly fun.
To the writing teeter totter Marikate, have fun!
Prince Jargo
was on a mission to
slay the evil green dragon
of the kingdom of
Wondrous Land
which consisted of people,
kindly dragons, dragonflies,
huffle-winks and the
mean-spirited green dragon,
his father King Andro insisted
it was time for young
Prince Jargo to be initiated
into adulthood and prove
his worthiness and valor
for the entire kingdom.
King Andro told his son
that he needed proof that
the green dragon was slain
by having him return with
part of its scaly tail and
heartless heart which would
be on display before all the
residents of their land to
celebrate Jargo's courageous
feat and the change of his
status to manhood.
The journey to the cave where
the green dragon lived was
perilous as Prince Jargo and
his white steed climbed carefully
several hundred feet high as
clouds drifted before them
obstructing their view of the
high-altitude lair making
the adventure more difficult
and challenging for the
young and nervous prince.
Suddenly, a fiery streak several
feet long knocked Jargo off his
horse making him dizzy with pain
when he realized he was attacked
by the fiery emblazoned tongue
of the green dragon whom he was
to slay or would he be slain instead?
Unshielding his shiny and diamond
studded sword, Jargo entered the
slimy and awful reeking cave in
which the green dragon lived and to
his dismay discovered that there wasn't
any sign of the dragon making him
wonder how it could hide since his
proportions being tall as several
stories would make it impossible
to do so.
Quickly, Jargo left the cave shaking
in his boots from a fear he had never
known just to become a princely man
for the Wondrous Land and his father's
approval of him.
Immediately, as he stepped outside,
he faced a stumble block----the giant green
dragon was on the ground and not moving
at all, looking still as if dead, so Jargo pierced
it with his sword several times to confirm
of its demise which made the entire
situation much easier for him as he sliced
off part of the tail and cut out its heart,
all proof was packed as he descended
down the steep trail to be welcomed by
King Andro as a courageous and manly prince
who slayed the evil green dragon.
Date of entry: February 5, 2020
Contest: 'Let the Pens Flow'
Sponsored by Jenish Somnadas
Transitions and Contrasts: Just like the Seasons
Scorching, sweltering, drying, draining
The Candle of the Sky, now a supernova
Chirping birds cry out for drops of draught,
The strays of streets too, dying or suffering.
The poor farmer’s heart, broken,
Like his dry and barren field and feet.
His wife’s sweaty palms trying to support
The pot on her head, and the babe on her hip;
Her anchal over her face, trying in vain,
To shield it from heat and dust.
Fifty miles away,
The businessman complained,
His AC is not good enough, and he can’t sleep.
Then the rains come down,
Soaking the land, pleasing the heart.
Kids splashing and screaming,
Coffee mugs and snack trays steaming,
Isn’t it time for music and romance?
But the single mother who couldn’t go to work,
Worried about her leaking roof
And her child’s still wet school uniform.
Spring came, colours and flowers,
Is there a fragrance always in the air?
Butterflies and dragonflies shimmering,
It’s time for festivals, (is it Onam yet?)*
Shouldn’t there be new clothes and feasts?
Oh, but no one back home, no one remains.
And for the grandpa who is alone in the bungalow,
What for is Onam if he is alone?
Winter comes with lights, gifts and carols.
Shimmering stars, bells and beauty.
Christmas and New Year,
Glory to God and Peace on earth,
Beauty and smiles; love and hope,
But is there a hope for the freezing homeless
Their hunger and longing
For bread and lodging?
Autumn stood there, silent witness,
Forgotten, yet calm and composed.
Trying to get rid of the scorching heat,
Before the squall and cold numbness come.
And they repeat year after year,
Never letting the world forget,
All is dynamic,
Constant in its inconsistency
.We puny mortals, mere actors, observers,
Too turn sentimental, passionate and cold.
Shed tears like the monsoon,
Turn angry like summer,
Cold like the winter
And fragrant like the spring.
We see the pain around,
Sometimes lament, sometimes turn angry,
Often be apathetic but still hope for Spring.
*Onam is the spring festival of Kerala, a state in India which also marks reunion of families and
nostalgia for home. In the urbanised world often this gets ignored as family
reunions rarely happen, therefore dampening the spirit of the festival.
A post from the past.....just trying to put down all the ones I have written but deleted when I left the site for a while......this is almost too long, but I couldn't find which animal or insect to eliminate.....
Gardens attract a number of guests,
Some are welcomed, some are pests-
Let’s peek inside to get a view,
Of what these guests are really up to-
Honey bees pollinate, wasps sting,
Mosquitoes suck, song birds sing-
Crickets chirp, caterpillars putter,
Grasshoppers jump, butterflies flutter-
Aphids cluster, ladybugs twirl,
Katydids hop, pill bugs curl-
Owls hoot, peacocks prance,
Fruit ripens, damselflies dance-
Leaves sprout, dragonflies catch,
Shrubs grow, chipmunks fetch-
Trees shade, breezes blow,
Blossoms bloom, fireflies glow-
Moths destroy, hummingbirds drink,
Earthworms chew, stinkbugs stink-
Ants march, slugs cleave,
Turtles saunter, spiders weave-
Fish swim, lizards climb,
Toads croak, snails slime-
Fleas vault, frogs leap,
Roaches scatter, millipedes creep-
Hawks soar, rabbits munch,
Snakes slither, beetles crunch-
Mites bite, moles scurry,
Walking sticks cling, termites hurry-
Mice dart, ferrets burrow,
Hedgehogs mosey, voles furrow-
Gophers tunnel, thrips rasp,
Foxes chase, grubs clasp-
Possums play dead, fruit bats roost,
Water bugs float, pirate bugs juice-
Woodchucks eat, rats devour,
Squirrels store, seedlings flower-
Gnats annoy, spittlebugs attack,
Ambush bugs take, cicadas extract-
Scaly bugs secrete, squash bugs infect,
Silkworms spin. lightning bugs inject-
Armadillos dig, water scorpions fight,
Woodborers drill, fruit flies alight-
Root maggots scarf, locusts smother,
Harlequin bugs feast, flower flies hover-
Deer nibble, cats meow,
Mealy bugs attach, dogs howl-
Antlions trap, leaf-footed bugs pierce,
Robber flies rob and hornets are fierce-
Nematodes battle, leafhoppers invade,
Cutworms clip, leafminers raid-
Psyllids drain, cabbage loopers inch,
Weevils infest, earwigs pinch-
Vines extend, doodlebugs grab,
Woodpeckers peck, assassin bugs stab-
Raccoons forage, geese parade,
Praying Mantises capture, falls cascade-
Skunks spray, branches sway,
Upon your plants an insect may lay-
Harvestmen walk, lacewings feed,
Some of these guests your garden needs!
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.
What is our highest good
as parents,
grandparents,
children of WiseElder mentors,
mountains and valleys,
sun and moon,
planets and plants,
clouds and rivers,
trees and toads,
eagles and dragonflies,
and occasionally parents.
How do we kindly,
with integrity,
invite ourselves
our families
our tribes
and communities
toward more resilient polycultural health,
restoring justice as local through global peace,
reforesting PositivEnergy CoOperative Democracy
wherever our eyes
are happy to see?
How do we support ourselves
and our families
and resilient communities
in staying away from
pathological dangers,
chaos opposing integrity
by marketing itself
with pretentious
mendacious Theory.
There could be no chaos theory
any more than there could be an unorganized
thoroughly dissonant system.
Where will our great grandchildren
look back to find
their most resonantly healthy WiseElder Allies?
How will they frame their,
and our WinWin game,
Great Transitional gratitude
of and for healthy ZeroZone
polycultural regeneration
across space
and through time?
Our best bicameral balancing LeftYang Self
with RightYin not-not Sacred EarthSoul.
PositivEnergy Spirit
of LeftBrain EcoCentric imagination
resiliently resonant ZeroZone WinWin
co-arising EgoYang-EcoYinYin
EarthSoul DNA-RNA Zero-Sum Solidarity
rapture memories.
PolyPathic Left
co-arising
co-gravitating
dualdark YinSquared speed of light=PositivEnergy Yang,
polyphonically resonant,
double-binding Yang/Yin ZeroSum EarthSoul,
Resilient Heart-Theory
of ZeroSum co-arising
Prime Ta(0) Relationship.
Something in this notUniversal-notUnitarian bilateral integrity frame
ZeroSum Tit for Tat
is where I best care for my WinWin self
and best mentor my kids
to bilaterally engage
multicultural imagination
with healthy co-empathic memory
Memories reconnecting
reconsidering
reweaving
redeeming
our best cooperative highest good
for ourselves
for our families
for our schools
and communities
of WiseElder mutual support
with our plants
for this mutual holonically secular/sacred EarthSouled Tribe
Revolving together cooperatively
or further apart LeftBrain competitively
on our EarthBound
resilient
health journey
toward EarthSoul wealth.
Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory,
Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea.
Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit;
Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence.
Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together!
Like allurng, violet future, that recalls moments in lush, green heather.
Scarlet summer was all in a fever, as faceted friends called, flustered;
Passing fields of fabled enchantment, where silky, lilac wind muttered.
Faces of family came in dreams, and in person, on the Fridays of fairs;
Full of food, games and fun activities, like colored, hopscotch squares.
Mary lived in the house of butterflies, forever peeking at the windows;
Offering the frequent flashes of color, like every shade of the primrose.
Saturdays wore its smiles, on Mary's street of pretty robins screeching;
Where blue dragonflies were dancing, and chirpy crickets had meetings.
Owls stared wide-eyed fascination, as neighbors came, one with night;
In the company of nostalgic, new moon, like velvet under the spotlight.
'Mangave mission to Mars' lifted off, when the 'corpse flowers' lay dying;
And 'grow anywhere' trees sprang hither and yon, without halfway trying.
During storms of 'dahlias electric flash,' or dark nights of 'showy lanterns,'
'Rose feather' blooms took the spotlight, while secrets hid in blue caverns.
As Andrew was crossing a bridge one sunny day, a large chunk of it fell,
Breaking the car's blue windshield! How he escaped harm, none can tell.
Andrew sent Mary an emergency message, apprising her of grave danger;
And she notified the right departments, within moments. Anxiety changer!
The bridge was capably repaired, due to the action of Andrew's first lady;
Like midnight of mimosa fragrance, giving raptures to areas grown shady!
'London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
Build It Up With Bricks of Shaw,
Bricks So Sure,
Bricks So Sure,
Build It Up With Bricks of Shaw,
My Fair Lady.
It Will Stand For Ever More,
Ever More,
Ever More,
It Will Stand For Ever More,
My Fair Lady.'
Bonnie Brown was in love with Charles, like black pearl clings to night,
So young and engaged to be married, like myriad stars, shining white.
They were active professionals, dwelling in a charming, bustling town;
As warbling charms orange noon, after pink mist clears, with no sound.
They had dreams of future and a family, like purple nights of fantasy;
And they were already making plans, like butterflies flitting frantically.
Fellowship of friends made fabulous Fridays, when they met after hours,
Dancing fun and funky karaoke, like dragonflies, among yellow flowers.
The family had always preferred flying, and finally arrived with jet lag,
In their flurry of activity; like snowflakes, or thunder's flashing, red flag.
Bonnie lived in the house of teatime, preferred in contented moments;
When speckled, green birds flew by the window, of afternoon suspense.
Scarlet rose was seared in heart's memory, on a street of grass sighing;
For Bonnie loved growing pretty blooms. She found their colors exciting!
News of the nation was on neighbors' lips, in the modern times of now;
But, novel nature took no notice, and it wouldn't have mattered, anyhow.
'Candy cane sorrel' blossoms thrilled children, in sweet days of summer;
As 'firecracker' blooms lauded 4th of July, 'mid droning, cricket latecomers.
'Red slipper' flowers lounged in velvet, while the 'parrot lilies' squawked;
And gardeners got rich as 'ruby cloud' descended, 'ere moonlight walked.
Bonnie planned to take a trip overseas, for two weeks of rest and gaiety;
But it'd be hard parting with Charles, like fall, bereft of flowering society.
Bonnie had so much fun, witnessing beautiful sights, like she never knew!
For all folks need a little adventure, like rainbows of skies, suddenly blue.
Charles was busy with a major work project, but missed Bonnie terribly;
Like colorful seasons that keep repeating, their vibrant days, customarily.
'My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me, to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me!'
A Long, Long Time ago, there was a cricket whose name
was Blue, she was named after the sky that she loved so true.
All day long she would look up at the sky while the other
crickets played and hopped merrily on by.
Then one day a dragonfly landed near and he heard the
whispered wish, the cricket held so dear.
Crickets my dear, he said, belong on the ground and if
you fell, well, you may never ever be found.
The little cricket answered yes I know, but to the sky
is where my heart longs to go. I have wings to help me fly
but they only carry me about one foot high.
To the top is where I long to be.
Hey! Maybe you could help me.
I don't know if that is a safe thing to do little cricket
but if you can help me then I will try and help you.
What can I do to help dragonfly, the cricket cheerfully asked?
Some rain would be nice to put in my water flask.
I carry water to those of us who are sick but there seems to be a
water shortage since the farmer filled in the ditch.
I would be more than glad to help and the cricket sung her beautiful song,
then tender raindrops fell from the sky and the dragonfly was pleased
as he carried water half the day long to those in need.
When the sky cleared and there was no more rain, the cricket waited
for the dragonfly to return again, and when he did not come back to her,
the cricket's face had a look of concern.
I know he will return, the cricket whispered to herself low, he just has to
for he promised me so. Just as the sun begin to set low, along came the dragonfly and asked, Are you ready to go?
The cricket said, Yes as her heart for this had cheerfully longed.
The little cricket jumped on the dragonflies back and held tightly on.
To the top of the tree he flew and landed on the tip top as he promised her
he would do. The crickets eyes filled with wonder and tears.
This is what she had been dreaming of, for years.
The dragonfly's days were never worried about drought, whenever his cricket
friend was about and the Cricket took many journeys on the dragonflies back.
She told her story in a song again and again. The tale of how a cricket flew
up into the sky, on the back of her dragonfly friend.
3/09/2017
The Accoutrements of Knowledge
The accoutrements of knowledge
had crept into his life, overtaking it.
No more did he sit and think,
idly allowing nuance to shade gray
the black and white of learning’s
playful inconsistencies. Old books,
manuals, manuscripts, texts,
subscribed to journals, cluttered
his encroaching space. Old thoughts,
ideas, dreams, brainstorms and brain-farts,
waited – holding numbers – lost in
the labyrinth of slumbering genius.
The need to learn, the drive to succeed,
had seduced him, lured him into the
netherworld of concrete minds,
set in their ways, confident of
their credos. This hell of blindly
accepted dictates emanating from
a “think” tank, this babbling of banal
benediction, this forced worship
of the mindless by the thoughtless
had dimmed the beauty of the sunrise,
muted the music of the spheres,
closed the eyes of the seekers,
pulling the wool of doubt over them.
So he left the trappings of the pedagogues,
fled the archways of academia,
sought a clear and simple thought -
An endeavor not unlike the search
for an honest man. His goal was not
to think but to experience thought,
not to memorize the dance steps
but to experience dancing.
They said that he had “burnt out”,
lost his focus, succumbed to the stress.
Now free of the encumbrance of the
accoutrements of knowledge, he was
free again to seek, to follow, to be
conscious of the sound of his heartbeat,
the rhythmic surge of his pulse,
the shimmering glow of a dappled sunrise.
He would learn from all about him,
study the art of the mud daubers,
the construction of the beavers,
listen to the songs of the lark and sparrow,
answer the call of the coyotes,
taste the bliss of the bee hive honey.
He learned – no books can teach you
the scent of dew damp grass at dawn,
nor recreate the harrumphing solo
of the lead bullfrog. Nor could they
explain how the dragonflies dance
varies from the butterflies ballet.
And so he thought. How and why
had he constructed a barrier of
knowledge that frustrated his
search for anything else?
1/24/2015
submitted to – Any Poem Written in the Year 2015
sponsor – Laura Loo