Long Draping Poems
Long Draping Poems. Below are the most popular long Draping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Draping poems by poem length and keyword.
Slender saplings sprout from sub-soil abode slowly
Tremble gently in the wake of the embracing breeze
Proliferating branches flutter like verdant wings wily
The forest flaunts the treasure of the towering trees.
Nascent leaves look up with promise to the rising sun
Draping them with patina of new exuberance rising high
For the lofty trees the sprawling luxuriant life has begun
As the lively forest raises the copious canopy to the sky.
Submerged in the turbulent sea of the maddening crowd
I perceive an emerald island emerge within lonesome me
Displacing the sound stratum of confused cacophony loud
Unattached from the anchored mind I make myself free.
In the precinct of pristine forest’s expanse I then wander
As the ascending sun bursts with colors on calm canopy
The golden beams brush the leaves with spectral splendor
In the tranquil depth of silence I’m suffused with serenity.
In the whispering wind the beguiled boughs gently quiver
Make the mystique motif with lattice of light and shade
To me the essence of ecstasy the foliage offers forever
Telling me to hold on to it until the twilight gleam fades.
An upright tree of life growing up high I aspire to be
Trying to catch the floating dreams in the drifting cloud
I hear the trees tell me make strong roots to stand firmly
Or else in strife of surging storm uprooted I’ll fall bowed.
From the cool cradle of copse I’ve a long way to carry me
With the forlorn life across the amber landscape fallow
The trees tell me to create the benign shade of empathy
In the thicket of my heart resplendent with divine halo.
___________________
May 17, 2022
Contest : Wisdom From Trees
Sponsored by : Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Summer blast, cotton candy kisses and so much more
hotdog vendors and music blaring from the band stands
July is in full swing, a repeating June's adore
time to celebrate our Country and our blessed land
hotdog vendors and music blaring from the band stands
Cool evenings draping lawn chairs and children neon smiles
time to celebrate our Country and our blessed land
Square dancing, rock and roll, then, a firework compile
cool evenings draping lawn chairs and children neon smiles
July is in full swing, a repeating June's adore
Square dancing, rock and roll, then, a firework compile
summer blast, cotton candy kisses and so much more.
Ambrosia of autumn romance suffused summer swansong,
as in my sky you came floating like wisp of chromatic cloud.
Its flushed fringe weaved the lattice of yearning in my heart,
turning love into a butterfly flittering in the garden of fervor.
Charmed, I felt the ecstasy of longing in the waft of allured air,
rippling through the spectral opulence of the sunburst dawn.
On the hued boughs of embrace I made jade dream of foliage,
until the foreboded time came with the flinging call of the fall.
The charisma of your face flashed in crystal drizzle of moonshine,
swaying in emerald breeze whistling the melody of fervent night.
I unfurled the wings of my soaring desire in amorous ambiance,
flew to the rising horizon brightening in the gleam of your grace.
As the new day dawned wrapping the foliage with patina of gold,
lying on blazing tapestry draping the ground, I held you in my fold
in the thicket behind my pasture where autumn tunes rustled, for
'breezing trees heard the whispers of leaves'.
('breezing trees heard the whispers of leaves' - The Last Goodbye by
Vijay Pandit)
April 20, 2020
Contest : Poetic Lines From A Poetry Soup Poet - Vijay Pandit
Sponsor : Silent One
I noticed that
even in death
lilies held beauty,
arched to one side,
white petals
glistened in the light
There were poems
in their drooping folds.
I reached into a void.
They cascaded
onto my fingers,
draping velum
across my hands.
Words seeped
into my skin
filling my veins,
they flooded my form.
A thousand sighs of awe
fell from my lips.
In wonder I wandered
fretless into a
glowing night,
a flush of bumps
migrate over my body
I shivered anticipation.
Cool summer air
brushed my face
as I turned
to a bright sky
whose full glowing disc
haunted my eyes
with flickering glory
I closed my eyelids
as I found the poems
suddenly lodged
in my throat.
They spilled
from my mouth
and gushed
over a silent
empty field.
I stood still
for moments,
maybe hours,
eyes shut,
lips moving,
mind unpeeling.
Opening my eyes
in the witching hour
I had finally
become free of words
and in astonishment
discovered that
even in death
lilies had found
lustre in the
long grass.
Through me
they had floated free
into another blush
inspiring the hopeless
with the gift
of a night in word.
Now eternally flowering
they will forever
curl their leaves
within my rhyme.
Let your palms be the last twilight,
Which covers my heart with the shroud of repose,
Draping the white silence, an ancestral vestment, at dusk,
Rest that descends over a world forgotten by the living.
May your gaze, the everlasting starry night,
Illuminate the universe that has lain in eternal slumber,
There my soul ascends and in turn ties its wing,
Where peace and the eternal dream have become sacred allies.
May your voice be the vessel of the breezes,
Carrying me to islands where time has woven silence;
The roof of the seas a muted bell, a proclamation,
That the mystery of prayers has quietly unveiled, in its reverence.
Your hair, let it be the willow on the downing evening,
Where echoes of warmth and sweetness still quiver,
Voices of memories in galleries of dreams, hidden and still alive fly,
Getting lost and found in the embrace of day’s end.
And let your soul be the kiss on my cold eyelids,
Unveiling in its clear light, a truth profound and pure,
And every tear dropped, a thought of crystal calling me,
Is the hour preceding a destiny, a future already signed on the horizon.
Our love, late yet so intrinsically natural,
Be the wave that raises us and carries us in song,
Toward eternal shores, in symphonies of sweet pure harmony,
Where love is woven with immortality in the sacred and sweet duet.
An episode of birds hovers beneath
a marmalade moon , just for a while,
as cotton-clouds sweep
the brushed limbs of a sky ready
to cradle the cloaks draping avian settlers;
those who like us ascend on hammocks
of dreams windblown by heady seasons
gliding through embroidered spring, the livid
lust in summer, on to a pious psalm come autumn,
soon... opal stalagmites of winter:
how abrupt and immediate this leaving!
Here we are, beyond shadows tasting
the song of evening walks soaring with
Aurora’s mist vanishing into a world
where permanence of cycles returns and repeats
the refrains from humming rivers growing frail,
until buds explode into leafy twirls
sweeter than the scent of parsley
on a fresh daylight…. icy, spicy, tangy.
Birds tweet, to swivel back into ancestral nests
much like us... wandering then yearning to kindle
the fire and oil of sweet home. Somehow,
seasons change… but our children’s dwellings
and god ‘s grace do not.
............
1/28/2016
For Cyndi Mac Millan's Contest
FIVE PROOF: FREE VERSE
THAT SHOWS IT AIN'T NO PROSE
......................
Literary devices: Assonance, Alliteration,
Imagery, Mood, Synesthesia
" (Two roads) diverged in a yellow wood and I choose the
the one less traveled by and that has made
all the difference. "
Quote by - Robert Frost
I met a drummer in those woods
He sold me all his ill-used goods
He said that I should seek real change
Shake up the pieces – rearrange
The stride and gait of my pursuit
That whistling sound of whining flute
A draping flag they won’t salute
That sound well bent could be a hoot
Reshaped, reformed his useless trash
Now glistens with the sun’s panache
That road I took “less travelled by”
Has often made this “grown man” cry
And yet I still possess that urge
To down that road again diverge
©6/5/2023
Writing Challenge – D Quotes Poetry Contest
Constance La France - sponsor
My migratory mind indomitably mobile,
recedes with the ebb of time, seeks the shore of the past,
as the spirited surfer on the wandering waves of life,
surging on curled crests carrying the fractured full moon,
and within the twirling troughs that store the sunk stars.
The wheel of time churns up the disarray dust,
settling on the unstable shelf of my dismal listless life.
In the maimed moments of perennial perturbation
the fulcrum of frail self-realization oscillates
beyond my grasp on the rolling ripples of longing adrift.
In the weed-webbed terrain draping the darkness within,
turns from the wreckage of lost love to a glorious garden.
The pathway paved by memory outside its frail fence,
waits for me remarkably rejuvenated, to be walked
to the mesmeric meadow of the promising tomorrow.
The dormant memory is then inspired to innovate
the arcane acumen of self-acquired inspiration alchemy.
Marigold blooms with hues of hope in the junkyard,
the glitter of gold flashes in the rusted crust of riling ruins
with the touch of the Midas mind metamorphosed.
When my castle of sand on the shore of yearning
tumbles down as the discarded debris of doting heart,
I discover the hidden flute of feeling preserved as
“memories buried in the wavering wash of time.”
I play again the lost tune of my life with melody of ecstasy.
I hang on the wall of an art gallery in Canada,
it is said I am the epitome of feminine beauty;
my skin is pale and porcelain perfect- my lips ruby,
my gown is low and in the softest mauve silk;
a cape of chiffon orange and rose pink floats in the breeze.
I am the daughter of a King and a Greek princess,
my story really begins when I was at the seashore;
Jupiter, the Greek god saw me and became quite enamored,
he set about a devious plan to seduce and ravish me;
taking the form of a white bull and mingling in my father's herd.
On a sunny bright day I was gathering pretty flowers,
I came upon the bull and made him a flower chain;
draping it around his horns and bravely I felt to ride him,
I climbed upon his back and he carried me far away;
into the shallow water and then the open sea- then I was lost.
I like to think of myself as that innocent girl playing,
with friends at the seashore or the girl picking flowers;
this oil painting of me is quite beautiful- I have heard it said,
can they see the deep sadness that dwells in my heart;
although I caress the bull and we had children, I dreamt of another life.
______________________
August 21, 2017
Personification/I Am, Europia
Copyright Protected, ID 932523
Tendrils of love
draping the page,
all of my anger
tussles a cage
—-
A Shock of light
did rivet to dark,
essence of self
was rent apart
A creeping doubt
crawled into mind,
this mimicking parody
was perceived as kind
Lulled to contentment
that was the charm,
and feeling safe
from all that harms
Awoken from slumber
my quietness rests,
this dragon roars
its final best
Painting the moon
with the ash from my tears,
paper mache in the
crater of fears
Saying goodbye
to all the good,
a word of blessing
will find new root
Fighting a battle
far from all sight,
this hollow face
has fled into night
Diverging to shadows
that shape the door,
I close my eyes
as faith hits the floor
A broken vessel
black in design,
lays in my palm
bled of desire
Sitting and rocking
in silent screams,
my heart lies withered
stripped of all dreams
—-
As barren ground
crumbled with mind,
darkness surrounds me
bleeding all time