Long Eloquently Poems
Long Eloquently Poems. Below are the most popular long Eloquently by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eloquently poems by poem length and keyword.
Somewhere out there in the world
There was a girl, No! strike that—a woman.
He saw as a girl, but knew as a woman.
And loved her only like a man, only a real man can.
A full grown man. Past his trials and tribulations that plague an adolescent youth, posturing while attempting to prove his valor, worth and to much a female’s ambivalent chagrin, his dominance. In his tiny kingdom. Which was really the vast universe of all that crazy phenomenon human beings gave the quirky abstract thing a name. They called it love.
That’s been written about by bards and authors alike. Between a male and a female, the dark to your light. Hey, who is dark anyway? It must be Eve.
Anyhow. Somewhere in the world this forthright, upstanding citizen of a girl, this woman had such an “understanding that she’d see him [in his entirety] like a poem or a story. And "find his words so valuable after all that when he confessed his apprehensions she would explain why they were in fact the very things that made him precious to her.” The Gestalt view of the man. She knew him entirely. Read him like a book. She knew the plot the exposition, the conflict the Rising Action (wink wink) the dénouement and the resolution. As the French would say, n'est-ce pas.
No, like a poem. A poem she wishes she could write. She knew where the best pages of him were. Existing in dog-eared pages with phrases that described earmarked features. Monumental features that tore her heart asunder. Features that filled her up. As god as her witness shed never be hungry again. To lie awake and think of his soul, seeping out of his mouth with words reverberating her own. Oscillating tiny bones, giving semiotics new meaning with each locution.
Don’t over analyze the symbolism here reader. She’d lie awake and ruminate his gestures, his mannerisms. His smile. And the way his face would look in different light. And how when he laughed the crinkles that formed around those intelligent eyes after he eloquently would mouth some truism. And she knew this face appeared throughout history. And she knew a writer of ballads wrote “don’t shove me while I’m drowning… were all just hunting for love” and she read once an author noted: “almost all the people on the boardwalk were paired off into couples.” The end.
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
Galileo made his elegant telescope with wood,
to discover Jupiter's moons, which were four in all;
and he saw with amazement what we see today.
Galileo's creativity and intellect changed
the definition of science and expanded its scope;
and his touch of genius intrigued even a curious Pope.
Never before was Man able to gaze at the wonders
of the unreachable Heavens with the naked eyes...
he allowed us to admire them and praise them eloquently.
And with the superb creation of his Galilean lenses, he shortened
the distance of the galaxies, planets and dippers that had existed
even before civilizations claimed dominion over the earth's rough terrains.
I would have ensued the same cause that motivated young Galileo to choose
a path encroached with many risks and trails, and be the bearer of change;
powerful war machine he invented when the city of Florence was constantly under siege.
He defended the Copernican Theory and was found guilty of heresy,
and while on trial, his innocence gave him more audacity...
that everything he had created, would have honored him with some recognition.
The last three weeks have been a seemingly endless series of welcome parties, get-togethers, receptions, meet-and-greets and cocktail parties - every kind of cheesy or ostentatious soirée my Grandmère can throw together, she’s dragged me to. It’s hard to match her energy.
“You have to meet people,” she insists, “and they have to meet YOU.”
“And why?” I asked, eloquently, but there’s no use resisting - she’s tireless.
The Prime Minister of France - met him. The mayor of Paris, met him, the CEOs of Paribas, L’Oréal, TotalEnergies, AXA, met them, the ministers of the economy, interior and foreign affairs - met ‘em. The US ambassador to France, met him.
In the play “My Fair Lady,” Eliza, meeting people frantically at the races, repeats “How do you do,” over and over and over to great comedic effect. That’s how I feel at these parties, “Enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté.” I say, turning in circles. I’ve met Emmanuel Macron before, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. I haven’t met his wife though - I’d love to ask her about that slap.. hhmm.
Is it shocking that I’ve now met anyone who’s anyone at Université Paris Cité? No, because that’s how crazy-lady operates. “You meet everyone, eye-to-eye,” she lectures, “you have to get out of your bubble, and experience the world as interesting,”
That’s her favorite saying these days. “I don’t HAVE a bubble,” I replied, defensively, but she’s left the room - she’s never still. She seems to know we’re on the clock, that once med-school starts, (in September) I’m going to be all about that.
It’s Monday morning. I’ve been at the Shangri-La hotel pool, where we have full privileges, and I’m coated, like a potato, head to foot, with SPF 50 sunscreen - when who shows up?
Peter (my bf). “You’re early!” I say, not at all displeased, but I’m SO conscious of my tacky skin and chemical smell that I face-palm him as he comes in for a snog.
EEuuww. I can’t make-out with a guy when I’m all greased up.
“5 minutes,” I assured him, heading for the shower.
“I’ll join you,” he offered.
“Well, ok,” I chuckle.
.
.
Songs for this:
Better Days by NEIKED, Mae Muller & Polo G
This Girl by Kungs & Cookin' On 3 Burners
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE [E]
Mother Nature dressed bushes and trees with jackets of ice overnight
Morning arrived as sun shined through like glass in the light
The landscape was so luring and magical to see
All the plants standing on winter's stage eloquently
I thought of all the musicians, what they bring to us all
When their lyrics express pain we feel as we fall
Their courage to sing truth, that maybe we can't speak
Singing on that stage, erasing all that seems so bleak
As I walked on winter's path, ice melted, dripped its tears bare
The healing had begun with jackets off, nothing could compare
I know those brave musicians helped more than they could know
Just as mother nature can create such a dazzling show!
Heidi Sands
2/18/26
(C)opyright
An Inqiury into Today's Poetry
Poems get shorter.
Emails near non existent.
Texts really shrink!
We live in a world of 'xoxo'
Or -)) an amazing, endless list.
Our time, we tell others, is short.
People have to guess what we think?
Time so valuable, our full
baptismal, wonderful names as initials?
Do you fully get that?
The question is existential.
To me, your name is reverential.
"PR" is so very cold, compared to
Panagiota which has spiritual meaning
Why, even our dogs and cats we call by
full name!
We poets claim a connection to the stars,
yes?
Who has ever called Orion, "O" of the moon,
"M'"
Or is that next? I see it coming!
Where did this beast come from?
Who destroyed the English language?
I do not know, it leaves me distressed.
The many languages from whence
our rich English vocabulary comes,
In the trash can of convenience rests!
Now a tragic happenstance.
We've shifted into a brave new world
of Far Eastern poetry.
I am grateful to all poets anywhere,
who have not lost faith in English!
As it developed and are masters with a pen
and it's delegation and know very
eloquently how to use it.
Thanks to you, who unknowingly are keeping
the full beauty of English alive for the coming
generations.
And not selling your heart to fast, one line
poetry.
And I understand some will disagree with me.
I much prefer a fully literate humanity.
5/27/2019
5:45pm PST
I can tell which of my poems are not even worth the
name...."poem". I leave them there as a reminder to
not do that again. Thank you!
Apologies, Panagiota
Greet the winsome poise of equinox
Staging day and night equally apart
Welcoming spring as winter departs
While moon enthralls doting hearts
In twinkling dance of sparkling stars
Strumming strings of astral orchestra.
Fall in love with heavenly stellar dream
As Milky Way floats on starlit stream
Riding ebullient waves of celestial sea
In colors and shapes of mystical artistry:
Zodiacal themes constellations gleam~
A painting hanging on walls of galaxy.
Search up-high for Mercury and Mars
Rejoicing in path of spectacular charm,
Meteor showers, airglows, and sparks,
Brilliant colors refracting dusty storms,
And a smile embellishing cusp of dawn:
Conspicuous posture of Venus above,
Eloquently posing as-if a morning star,
Goddess of love for romantic hearts,
Envious of Polaris~ the northern star,
Unwilling to cede to sun’s entourage
Glistening amber horizon of rosy arc
Sparkling winsome posture of equinox.
February 25, 2022
Placed 1st: Second Chance Submission
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Saint Augustine so eloquently stated, “Our hearts are restless until we find our rest in Thee.”
Restless heart, “Listen to the silence”
The whispers of kindness inspiring joy
Wherever it reaches, beyond the wings
Of caressing gentleness, meek and filled
With a breath of tenderness in the air
Restless heart, “Listen to the music”
The notes of compassion erasing hate
Hastening inspiration within the soul
Who listens to the guidance, oh so sure
The light of life falling down from above
Restless heart, “Listen to the grace”
The stirring of amazement flickering
Through the hues of delight, ecstasy
Waking the hope that lives in the heart
Breaking away from destructive thought
Restless heart, “Listen to the sensations”
Feelings of pure praise singing to the dawn
Raising vibrant shades of crisp crimson hues
Flickering on the winds of praise and worship
From a heart who knows about pure love
Restless heart, “Listen to the murmurs”
Sweet mercy calling through the limbs
Of a forest alive with emerald thrills
Feelings flooding souls with truth and courage
Whimsical sighs of fires raging on the inside
Restless heart, “Listen to the call”
Wisdom hearkens to wishes that fall
Against encouraging thoughts, dreams
That acknowledge the truth within
Reflecting on a serenity that comes from Him
Restless heart, “Listen to the still, small voice”
Of the One who lights the way to love
The One who answers our prayers in a way
That gives our hearts the tranquility
Quiet that comes from His gentle spirit
Restless heart, “Listen to Jesus words”
In Him, find your hope and faith
Your enlightenment, amazing grace
The wonder, the miracle, of knowing
God is love and love is alive, shining bright
The affectionate mother, whom I loved has long left
her earthly dwelling to flee
to a Paradise extrasensory peaceful;
and surrounded by angels,
she tenderly flashes an effulgent smile and looks upon
me and whispers many prayers
for a son whose face is her total resemblance!
And in me her noble soul lives with a sweetness,
which has made me forgotten that there's death...
by rekindling that maternal memory!
Before I go to sleep, I reflect on my day that has passed without dire...
by staring at a portrait, which makes her facial expressions
seem so real like when she eloquently spoke, glimpsing into tomorrow;
I'm wishing for tears to fall, but none do...too numerous tears
have her child's eyes shed to empty themselves of their sorrow!
Why cry and induce more mourning...when glory has awarded her a halo?
She endured much, and said little, to strengthen me with her example,
and will harsh winters lash me with their furious winds, no fright...
no discouragement can overwhelm me and make me shiver and tremble;
violent storms extirpate trees, fears won't uproot what I extol!
Extraordinary was her motherly love: intense and insuperable,
to build me up when my confidence was down and I refused to have fun;
and if I felt miserable, she mollified my misery, grief and sadness,
to never let me lose my momentum, to miss out on a great, indelible moment!
Showing my mistrust intensified the tone of her vocal chords...
low esteem wasn't another kind of modesty, just a lost milestone!
Secular and firm...and yet divine, was her faith emboldening me;
emerging in the form of a lovely rainbow to brigthen my obscurity!
I longed for affection, hoping it would have been long lived...as that love so tangible,
which still guides my footsteps to rekindle that maternal memory!
As sanskrit simmers
upon the splintered mind
of savaged souls
the evolution of emotion
eloquently enters the environ
of your vulnerable virtue,
entreating the crying heat of your heart
to hasten no more
towards the shadow of shame,
Her Shadow sang the sorrow
of a suppressed sweetness,
a love forbidden in the phobia
of the world's dervishing dystopia,
sanctuary was not in her heart,
it belonged in her heated nerves
the expressway of uncompromised courage,
Her Shadow knows how her skin sweats
when the Damned dismiss her love,
Shadow knows how her eyes sting
from anything mean to her sincerity,
her Shadow holds her tears
in hands of ivory,
fantasizes that rage is beauty...
J.A.B. 2023