Long Eave Poems
Long Eave Poems. Below are the most popular long Eave by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eave poems by poem length and keyword.
The soul is craftsmanship, a complex filigree,
One moment it dances in laughter, and the next, no reaction spree.
It's the secretive goldsmith of emotions we weave day by day,
With wings of thoughts, while the tiniest feelings can make the balance sway.
Upon us, the eave of the sky sometimes heavily lies,
And yet, we resist, with a shield of will, under the stars and fogs that rise.
I fear, I do not possess this strength, I’m framed elsewhere,
My fluctuations are an ocean, with extreme waves, harsh and without spare.
My temperament battles with sensitivity in a vast sea,
A fight not at all easy, for the soul, it's nearly a calamity.
It's deeply etched in my essence, as fate has inscribed,
And perhaps it empowers me, to shape into words all that I've imbibed.
Protect me, humor, from too much honesty,
You are my shield daily, my safety strategy.
But empty would my universe be, if poetry had none to hear,
Without friends to share verse, life would be just a silent theater, drear.
M-ake it well and good,
I-n spite of a bad day;
C-reate a nice situation,
H-aving a pleasant way.
E-xecute well and good,
L-earning a lesson from fault;
L-eave the wrong behind,
E-rrors in life you must halt.
A-ct well and good,
R-ise above the crowd;
A-lthough you may fall,
G-et up soon to be proud.
O-n July tenth early morn, weather's well and so fine;
N-o storm is brewing, letting the sun come and shine.
H-ear it well and good,
I-t's a beautiful sound;
C-hirping birds that fly
A-re gliding up and down.
R-ecite the written rhyme in your heart's merry mood;
O-pen your mind to its content, make it well and good.
The torch is raised
To the height of an elbow
Its flame pronged
To the flicker of a pitchfork
The sunrise charges over a hill
For old man
Winter
And under this sun on March One
The eave troughs of our house
Still cling to the grip of winter
Growling silver fangs
And crying long tears
Resisting the pry of the flowering season
Finally succumbing
Plummeting
Through the sponge of snow
Below
To slip away forever
Into the streets steaming
Like opened rivers of fish leaping
Hooked on lines
While chunks of ice
Dislodge from corners outside the house
Avalanching
Loud as silverware drawers in the kitchen
Opening and banging shut
Makes you turn
Look
And wonder who is so angry and why
Downstairs
A boy
In a short-sleeved shirt
A stoned graveyard digger
At the end of my driveway
Uncovers the drain
And its copper coins buried from autumn
And with that iron resurrection
The afternoon is engulfed by a rush of waterfalls
From rooftops and balconies
Banks of snow
The whole cliff of the planet
Washing away
Cleaned to its streams and lakes
Some of us
Lift our feet
Before, we too, the worn and tired
Are swept away by this light of spring.
I am a blue Swallow. I was born in the late summer, and
my parents taught me everything they could before leaving
me to fend for myself. I spent all autumn gathering food and
hiding it in a thousand places ... I have a good memory !
Oh, winter, winter all the time! Will, you ever end? Each day is
a struggle, so many days with snow falling, winds blowing and
freezing temperatures. I have grown dense and downy feathers
and can drop my body temperature. Shivering keeps me warm !
I like to cuddle and roost with my bird friends on a tree branch
being close keeps us warm and we like to pull up our feet, one
at a time, and I am good at finding warm places to sleep at night
like a tree cavity, any gap, nook or a house eave will do nicely !
I love how some nice humans put out feeders in the winter,
filling them with tasty seeds, and hanging suet from branches
even leaving warm water for washing, and even some leave
bird boxes where many of us set up a warm cozy winter home !
Oh, when will winter be leaving and spring coming please
I long for the sun to start melting the cold winter snow and ice
the trees will start to groan and creak as they come alive
and when I am sleeping ... I dream of beautiful things to come !
On a sunny branch I fluff up my feather and preen myself
I feel a change and I am gaily singing a song of happiness
for spring is here and it won't be long till all is lush green
I survived because I prevailed though I weigh only ounces !
_____________________
January 24, 2023
Poetry/Personification/A Swallow's Winter View
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1519-918-24
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Winter Is Not Forever
sponsor, BJ Legros Kelley, Judged 02/19/2023
Second Place
Hungry souls love a large pot filled halfway with bottled water.
Add 3 12-ounce pkgs of savory mild Portuguese sausages, finely chopped,
While the pot is simmering on the stove, on medium-high heat.
Add a couple of diced ripe round onions
In a short while, add two cans of dark red kidney beans, then, as
It boils,
Add a tray of tiny, sweet, color-filled tomatoes, cleaned.
Next, set the stove to simmer.
Sets of two small cans of tomato sauce and a can of
Tomato paste, into the simmering pot
Yet, keep stirring the pot ever so often
Lastly, mix in two dry chili powders
Enclosed in packets.
Chili powder is stirred in until it is nicely blended.
Hot Chili Mix might be too strong, so medium or mild
Is best
Leave on the stove, well-mixed with the stove off.
It goes great with steamed whole-grain rice.
I viewed them the spring before – robins in our grass
and swallows flying circles around the front of the house.
Weeks later I spied their nests -
the swallows’ under an eave of our garage
and the robins’ hidden in a cluster
of our pear tree’s lovely green boughs.
I wish to have seen the eggs the robins surely laid,
but their nest was too high up.
The swallows’ nest intrigued me more,
for I was able to easily witness the hatchlings’ progress.
Periodically the parent birds came to feed them.
Eagerly I’d step off my porch when I saw the parents
swooping down and then soaring back to the sky.
Sometimes they whizzed close by my head as if to scold me
for my curiosity in their offspring; I was a trespasser on my own land.
Next year I will await them, but I think they will not return.
Always the robins return, but knowing swallows as I do. . .
their last year’s nest is sure to sit
lonely and unvisited.
Nov. 24, 2019 for Craig Cornish's "Last Year's Nests" Poetry Contest
(this actually happened several years ago, and the swallows never returned)
A - rresting beneath dancing fingered fronds palming zephyr's touch.
B - each building sand castles throughout dawning sunlight.
C - rumbling granules of fate in the noonday sun.
D - esigns creating a new look ashore.
E - diting newly fallen sands.
F - ace swells and thins between surges.
G - entle washing refreshens a former facial look.
H - eave water jams buildup.
I - nvigorating capturing look,
J - ubilance in its recapturing feel.
K - aleidoscopic of the whole breathtaking spectrum.
L - andscape of unequaled challenge beheld.
M - isshapen perfections quantified by redo.
N - ew prefaces the horizon offshore, an enigma.
O - ddity baffling amass guesswork pursues.
P - atterns of shapes, sizes, heights, and widths.
Q - uite illuminating factor as a timeline note the ever-increasing world.
R - esembling provocative changes and the required remedies
S - werving challenges the course 'twas laid.
T - ides are forever pushing the new breeds into towns.
U - ndulating wave actions stimulating factors of reawakening.
V - oluminous fills, and packs, until pressure buildup frees life.
W - aves of new life, seeking a better life, old-timers know-to-well.
X - enophiles - welcomed, no xenophobes on these beaches, just welcoming on land, inland, and to the other side.
Y - ielding prayers to our lord redeemer Jesus Christ.
Z - ones; all were notified that zones were a form of separation for easy processing, --that was all a fallacy. Families are to stay together, and friends are to stand nearby. Let the processing begin and for those who are waiting, you may take a number and go outside and truly enjoy our beaches. Aloha
Zip pose zing the weather forecast
donned wafted air
fragrant with flowered flora
visibility for miles
if ether crystal clear,
this high da way countless yards
off the ground presented flare
approximating pristine floral display
with powerfully poignant immunity
against cackling, jeering, scowling,
parents or other nemesis with glare
ring (smoke emitting nostrils),
an idyll escape for this heir
to the throne of the mountain king,
(lion share of original tract
kept by Donald Neilson empire)
this make believe verdant submerged lair
unwittingly left a gaping hole,
when Gambone Brothers
industrial machinery voraciously
made clean sweep,
without a trace of former imp pier
real resilient stately structured heart
of "Glen Elm" could no longer rear
the well built “grand Etta face dame”
helplessly, holistically humbly
brought to her knees (gory detail aye will spare),
nonetheless more than one pearl jammed shaped tear
trickled down chafed
sad reddened cheeks,
whose head must veer
away asper thine subsequently
blotted out never never never land
eclipsed by transient rubble,
thence vinyl city (dis) graced sacred space,
no doubt a great ache,
when Saint Nick sought
sought in vain for
324 Templed throne everywhere!
Sigh! Breathe in and out, eyes closed, heart beating,
Uttering forth prayers, fists clenched, candles burning
Making of my room, an altar on its own, and I, a
Mere white witch, seeking and yearning for sooth for the world's
Offspring, all drowning in the oceans of Earth, cornered,
Not even able to lift up their own bodies towards safety!
In my mind, words heaved, powerful and mighty in the
Night, silent and pulsating, submissively making the light
Green for my angel to sit and hear of what I have to say!
May it be that life be as rosy as it is in your own realm
Yes, may it be that children laugh from their hearts
And adults be willing to give out their hands to their peers,
Needing nothing more than warmth in their hearts and
Gurgling clear streams in their souls, yes, angel, may
Earth and her children heal, may the gloom and the doom
Leave, once and for all, so that life, even temporary, be a bliss!
For Contest A Forms
Sponsored by Constance La France
Date Written: 11 Dec 2021
"My poem is a hidden acrostic, Sponsored by: Crystol Woods. That's who its for.
I wonder how I will score." Quote by the poet.
_______________________________________________________________
The day is ending.Traveling done, no more roaming.
On the threshold 0f change, spirited emotions intensify,
Dusk and sunset, when They meet, it’s the gloaming.
As ominous silver streaks Weave across a sun soaked sky,
I settle to watch, Inspired by that instant moment,
When day gives over to night, Like a regal bestowment.
Lights Instantly shimmer, as we near twilight.
Across the horizon created a radiant Glow so bright.
This magical moment captured with a deep ruby Hue.
Detailing an exquisite True crimson etched in view.