Long Drops Poems
Long Drops Poems. Below are the most popular long Drops by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drops poems by poem length and keyword.
Sammy, a big eared puppy, liked to lay in the sun
but playing in rain puddles was a lot more fun.
He was never afraid when he heard thunder roar
because he knew that soon, rain drops would pour.
Sammy looked out and saw the sky getting dark
He wagged his tail, then heard another puppy bark.
He ran outside when his owner opened the door.
When he let out a howl, the pup barked some more.
They talked for a while through the back yard fence.
Sammy learned his new neighbor's name was Spence.
Soon, Spence asked Sammy to be his best buddy.
Together they played in puddles, getting very muddy.
April 20, 2021
Nursery Rhyme 5 Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”
- Mary Oliver
Poetry is my flesh, blood, body, mind and soul,
My heart and its beat; skin-bone unifying whole;
In her I talk, walk, work, rest and leisurely lie;
Without her, like fish without water, I might die...!
Do I pick my tooth-brush at rising, I don't know,
My pen, as though saving sword, ever strength does show;
Feeling hungry or full, somnolent or awake,
Pulsation of poetry, like waves, in me, break...!
As impulses pull and push to-and-fro actions,
Poetry pervades reason-cum-instinct fractions;
Self-enslaving inclinations soon washed away,
Poetry, for inner warmth of freedom paves way...!
Erasing evils with poetry might be hard,
Like razing down hardest bushes of jungle-yard;
Don't yet, drops of disinfectants do some cleansing,
When rooms go messy and pathogens do fencing...?
Poetry gives strength to my weakening muscles,
My aching knee readies to fight moral-tussles;
Each step I take is an inspiring upheaval,
Toward freeing humankind from every evil...!
21 November 2022
Poetry is a life-cherishing force Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
(Dedicated to my Beautiful Little Queen Fiancée Sultana Yeasmin)
Who knows the moon is brightest only with beloved
Who knows the sun is ever peaceful light only with beloved
Who knows the leaves of grasses are the mat of pure love
Who knows the drops of rain are the pacifier of heart
It's a path, the fabulous path of horizon
where paradise is nothing but you are
Like you O My gracious heartiest Darling
For you the paradise is paradise
For you the world is beautiful
For you, everything of me is alive lively
For you, I am just I am
O My Little Queen
I love you only
Let me see the face of dawn
where you are shining fairness of all
Let me see the heart of the sun
where you are centripetal light
Let me see the flying birds
where you are the power of wings
Let me see the buds of all red roses
where you are only the infatuation fragrance
Let me see the colors of the west rainbow
where you are source canvas of all colors
Let me see the bared body of raindrops
where you are a fertile reservoir of water
Let me see the oyster in deep-ocean
where you are carrier my biological gem
Let me see the darkness of deep night
where you are my ever dreamy peaceful sleep
Let me see the virgin womb of the moon
where you are a sheer keeper of virile life
Let me see my inner self O Darling
there is nothing except you, just you
Hither and thither
You are mine, you're
Hence, thence, everywhere
You are mine, you're
O My Little Queen
I love you only
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
26/07/2021
There is music in the wind
it blows so softly and sweet;
humming at the top of the hills
and all the trees swing to it
There is beauty in the water
when it flows from the mountains to the valley
splashing on its path from boulder to boulder,
reflecting the sun like a flawless ruby
There is beauty in the morning;
the fog hangs in the air like incense burning
drops of dew hang from the leaves
and sparkle like diamonds set in eaves
There is music in the evening
the sounds of roosting birds fill the evening
and in the sky, just over the horizon,
a yolk-colored sun hastes to its place of dwelling
Walking thru the door my heart drops,
As I see the envelope on the table.
I call out for my wife all I hear is silence.
Standing all alone tears welling,
Up in my eyes I have never felt pain,
Like this before as if a hot burning,
Poker has been thrust into my heart.
I fall to my knees crying,
Calling her name out.
Staring at the envelope who,
Is laughing in my face as my heart breaks.
The creaking of the door shuts,
As I hear foot steps coming behind me.
Then I hear her "Baby, What's wrong ?"
I look up as tears stream down my face,
Pointing at the envelope, Why??
Then I see Roses and Champagne,
She holds my face with her hands,
Kissing me softly lightly on my lips,
Holding me close,
Then looking into my eyes , she smiles,
Telling me, It's an ultrasound,
We're pregnant. We're gonna have a baby.
I lift her up hugging her never,
Wanting to let her go.
SUMMER DAYS
Watch a swallow swoop
and pass above an old meadow,
lush with grass. Speckled starlings
sing with delight over flying ants
in nuptial flight. Buckthorn in a dense
hedge screen. Ceanothus ,shaded green
Jasmine,Honeysuckle,Bittersweet
scents to mingle in summer heat
Clouds of teasels spiral tall
'midst dancing grasses against a wall
wandering wasps picnicing un-checked
onto perfumed petals,paperwhite
first intoxicate,then delight,
high above Cauliflower clouds,nimbus
topped weep a shower of warm tear-drops.
PASTURES GONE
buttercup yellow
kissing cowslips
dandelion,poppy and daisy,
corn marigold
cow parsley and clover,
a willow that weeps
and meadow-sweet,
deep in a forgotten pasture.
Listen to me read these poems on youtube under name ichthyschiro
The meadow lay dark, dank, hushed, cold and clammy.
Nothing dared to move,
to break the soliloquent solitude.
Time stood still, adjourned, awaiting a warp to lift the lag.
Then, the moon peeped out from the edge of a dark cloud.
Everything changed, the scene was awash with perception,
beyond the touch of braille dots, enlightened.
Dew drops on grass blades sparkled,
with mini moon images, captured within.
An owl opened its eyes to scan the scene, enraptured.
A rabbit twitched its nose, sniffing for scents, wafting.
Now you could see the breeze caressing the grass, ebbing and waving.
See the dew drops dislodged from leaves fall, tumbling as tear-drops.
The moonlight painted the scene as it brightened,
colors and textures infilling in waves.
Not a still life landscape,
but with colors ever so slowing growing in intensity and contrast.
A beam of moonlight squirmed its way across the meadow,
as if parting the grass with a furrow.
Then, as the full moon escaped from behind the cloud,
flooding light all over the entire meadow,
the scene was fixed, its dynamism quelled, expelled, in past tense.
The sleeper awoke, looked out the window,
admired the moonlight on meadows scene
oblivious to how the moon had gradually developed the scene,
like a fixative develops a print from a negative film.
The image darkening and transforming into view as if my magic.
The sleeper returned to sleep, oblivious to how the scene of the meadow
developed with the first few seconds of moonlight caste upon it.
Never knowing what they missed as the moonlight first alit the meadow,
delightfully developing the scene before it was fixed, and paint dried.
My, My what the sleeper missed!
Long has I danced on these floors of lovers, my dancing routines lil rusted and outdated, yesterday was the day I fell off and broke my ankle, and sworn to return no more but here I am today, obliged to follow into my human nature, it was weeks ago when my recovering ankle led me to this scene, now my play run unscripted, this time around met the unexpected, believe that's what coincidence refers to
So off guard, my expectations caught, I speak philosophical jargons now, with my vocab out of context, my Inquisition drops me continuously, hope to find stand to fit my feet, my sweet struggle commence, I smile in my heart plight, so long had I pondered of such, now this is my jungle to cross, my adventure steady, hope she meet me halfway, for so long had I tried, this mile I soldier to travel,
So many controversial complexities, I fail to follow, even to some little acts, I strain my antics, so empty handed I forever return, she keeps her cards to her chest, this blind fold on my expectations exhaust my patients, so much had I put in place to work this garden of her heart but still she remains unimpressed, sigh in my endurance, what ingredients should my mental chef try?
My quest, still a mystery, how without I'm of her calibre, wish God leaks to me her heart manuals, my request is simple; just wanna learn to love her her way, for I have failed my way. Her name means happiness, so dry has it been in my heart for such, I too just wanna have a stake in her name, hope she heed my quest and grant me justice.
#Poetic_Ink
In praise of Poetry and God.
The wise and learned
Honor and respect only that poetry
Which contains
The description
Of the supreme God and its beauty
Which get reflected
In numerous acts
Of his presence on Earth. 01
.
When the God shows his colors and Sun light
On the morning dew drops
And they began to shine and dance
After touching
The golden and silver rays. 02
.
In those moments
The beauty of Earth get blended
With the morning beams
Which come out sometime
In such wonderful moments
When the Sun peeps from behind the clouds
To watch the splendors
Of the alluring beauty of God. 03
.
And its beams began to dance
On the rhythms of moving clouds
While spreading their colorful reflections
On the petals of flowers
Or resting on the green grass leaves
In the form refreshing dewdrops. 04
.
Such poetry
Moves the hearts of an enemy
And even they began to praise
The beauty of such
Wonderful poetry composed and written
By its opponent in praise of God. 05
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 11th Dec. 2015
We watch
as aquamarine touches the shore
splashing glitter-drops onto the sand beneath our feet.
The sun melts into a rose-petal sky
glowing crimson and persimmon
on the horizon.
Hand in hand,
engulfed by tranquility,
we stroll to the beach house
we have rented for the night.
At the porch
we stop -
gazing back at the shore
where splendidly we spent our afternoon.
Then you face me,
and your blue eyes,
once so soft and flirty in the sunlight,
grow darker in the twilight.
Darker and deeper,
mirroring my quickening desire.
Wind chimes made from sea shells,
which tinkle above our heads,
start to mirror the passion
of the once soft and flirty breeze of our perfect day,
for wind now blows with gusto!
To the clamor of melodious wind chimes,
my lips meet yours
and we become the sun,
melting like crimson and persimmon
into each other.
Aug. 28, 2018
for John Hamilton's Best free verse July 1-October1,2018 Poetry Contest