Long Encounters Poems
Long Encounters Poems. Below are the most popular long Encounters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Encounters poems by poem length and keyword.
I was relaxing one night while reading in bed,
then felt something crawling, as I froze with dread.
Fearing it could be a spider or a dreaded bed bug,
It’s Just my luck since I was feeling cozy and snug.
It’s now running up my leg, as I let out a yell,
while quickly jumping out of bed, I nearly fell.
I threw the covers back, while cringing with fear,
not sure what I will find and if it’s still there.
I spot the huge black ant running all around,
I quickly grab a tissue, hoping to take it him down.
Luckily, I was able to rid the big black ant in my bed,
and any new bug encounters will end up dead.
(My poem was inspired by an ant encounter I had last night while I was reading in bed. Just glad it wasn't a spider!)
1
Sunday, an overarching day both raw edge conduit and
coarse grain shelter for that soul in torment,
it’s when psyches plagued by doubt face those
sudden twists and turns we call bizarre,
thoughts of the macabre and their covert operation may
intrude into our leisure zone as skin rash nettle hazard.
we’re there latent paranormal hidden hands as I drew
closer to a roadside curb whose mortar filling had been
shrivelled due to timeline passage?
2
One can be blind to seismic portent, atmospheric tension’s
silent whisper, random omen pointer surreptitious,
little did I know what lay ahead bar dim light inkling and
its scene-shifter impact at an awkward later stage,
as the wheels of my car began to screech a pulsing
nebula of images stoked an inner world sixth sense,
skepticism’s early cloud speck haze now off-limit as
orange-red sunlight shafts reveal an ornamental placard.
.
3
It had this brazen mantra,
that cryptic but incisive query-
“Going somewhere?”
Light green paint brush clusters and intertwining leafs
garnished borders of this plaque with its scheme
in transit blithe charm,
an angel face hitchhiker stood, her ocean blue crest
eyes openly inviting gold rush dawn apogee,
a silken twang rippled like some fresh mint oxbow
spring chase or meander.
“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is an algebra of enigmatic
hue and strange encounters going into orbit.
Clandestine journey for bohemian quest
Who knows what convoluted upshot might ensue?”
I want to take a walk by the beach,
Listen to the sound of the roaring waters,
I'd love to take a seat by the palm trees,
Listen to the symphony from
the evening orchestra band,
I'd love to sit in a park,
Surrounded by nature's beauties,
In awe of its craft and design,
Listen to the sweet songs from the hummingbirds,
Harness my creative prowess,
I want to sit on the porch,
Drowned in the view of the sun's set,
I want to go on a safari,
Watch the animals uncaged and unrestrained,
I’d love to go on an adventure,
Climb mountains and hills,
Listen to the sound of music from waterfalls,
Stroll across a rope bridge,
Go on a walk through caves,
Frightened and thrilled by my encounters,
I want to have a view of other cultures,
See the world beyond where I'm constrained,
There are so many places I'd love to go,
There are so many beautiful places I'd love to see,
Paradise on earth,
Wonders on earth's landscape,
I’m of hope that fortune will smile my way,
Take me on a trip to these wonderlands.
May 24, 2022.
My Dream Vacation Poetry Contest.
L. Milton Hankins
Our encounters of life and its struggles
Endowed amidst the peaceable silence,
Crisp leaves veiling life, into a wonder
Night curtly lull, in early calm slumber.
Time will come, smile, welcome with elation,
Then the lion's roar, perched on the loud sound
Influence the tall emerald meadow
Sated power of thunder spring rain flow.
Life is, but a spirit of glory.
A moment, a feeling, an embrace,
We smile, we cry, we win, we lose, we rejoice,
We're awakened, we come, we go, we have a choice.
3/4/2021
Life's Struggles- Any Form - Updated- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Treat yourself, why don't you
Only you know the sacrifice
And how short life can be
Seek the small pleasures before
They escape you forever
Happiness is on a plate
Annotate your life with fantastic
Stories of immense
Hope and adventure
Bravely respond to life's challenges
Recuperate when necessary
Organise and rest
Weave peace into your schedule
Never compromise on self-care
But be generous. Outrageously so..
Encounters are opportunities
Anxiety is the thief of your joy
Never let the loud noises dictate.
Silence your spirit, surrender to God
Whatever good things
Arrive at your table
Festivities or
Failures
Learn every lesson
Embrace each with gratitude
Seasons mean growth; under or above ground
He:
Pardon me,
It is I, the peasant gentleman.
From yester’s encounter.
I apologise for not revising nobility.
But as I said I have seen you before.
She:
I doubt we have met.
I never forget a face,
Perhaps you mistake me for one of your women.
He:
Ha-ha, I may not be a man of noble raising.
I would have loved to have women;
But my dignity I value, even as a man.
Many affairs would not serve my purpose.
She:
What is it that you want from me?
I do not care of your affairs.
Or anything of your interest,
I would very much like my space now.
He:
I had my doubts before,
Now I am sure you will recall our numerous encounters.
As your tongue is still as bitter.
They called you Amanda, of which I’m sure you still are.
Pardon me, I did not mean to startle you.
She:
How could you possibly know my name?
He:
Ah! Finally I have broken your daze.
Though the look on your face is still amiss.
I believe you could never remember me.
As I looked a little different back then.
She:
Well, given the impression.
Maybe we did not run in the same circles.
As I said I never forget a face.
Is this altercation necessary?
He:
Pardon me,
I mean no harm,
Let’s forget I know you, nor you I.
Please let me lend an ear.
Pardon me but it sure seems like you need one.
She: sighs deeply
He:
It would not help to keep all that agony.
You might wrinkle, my mamma always told me.
Some say confiding in a stranger eases your woes.
I will not judge you.
She:
At the crack of dawn I rose up looking….
Ha-ha, I was looking for my children.
I was looking for my husband.
I did not find either.
All I found was an emptiness.
He:
Terrible endeavour that must be querida.
At our age one would like to have it all.
But that’s no reason to despair.
Is it not that we all serve a purpose?
She:
I should be on my way.
Pardon me this time.’
I have cats to tend to.
© Herzel Poshiwa
Form:
Poets adorn their verses with romantic words
that humans read them and delude themselves
that passion is a tale invented
by someone whose love was pure
and forgiving when it went wrong;
is that someone still living
and creating an illusion more
alluring to anyone feeling the void?
Shouldn't love be all joy and no sorrow:
soaring skies, and be happier than a sparrow?
Did Dante describe it as such...
if Beatrice hadn't been as distant
as he thought? Wouldn't he be deluded
if he hadn't promised her much?
Their encounters were brief:
glancing and smiling, his hand
never caressed that pretty face;
is it wrong to say he was a petty thief...
stealing her emotions, seducing her with his verse?
Dante and Beatrice would be an object of ridicule
if they lived in these times of greed and lust,
who would defend their romance if not I who feels lost
and longing for the same thing they were after with desire?
Shouldn't love be all joy and no sorrow,
but being afraid of losing it is a terrible mistake in reality;
learn from Dante, he dreamed of Beatrice and didn't allow
her distance to be a barrier between them, but he became sin-sown.
Had he only imagined the possibility against the impossibility,
he would have given up and not altered destiny and begun
wondering if her age was an obstacle or an advantage
for an impatient man seeking a wife and not be accused of sacrilege!
As a new resident in a rural farming community,
I was shown a picture of a black bear by a new
found friend. Thinking this sighting to be news worthy,
I said, "Have you contacted the news media about this? "
With a respectful gaze, he informed me that bears were
Not uncommon in the area. I thought to myself that I never
'signed up for black bears' when I decided to relocate to Mississippi.
Other wildlife experiences have been: watching a stray cat eat a
wild rabbit. Stopping on a highway for a baby alligator to safely cross.
Being startled by a snake hanging from my back door, and my wife
Being shocked to see another snake wrapped around the door nob
of our front door. Experiencing a black bear greeting me at the window
as I was writing on my computer. Except for the baby alligator, none
of these wild life encounters were pleasant ones.
Some people believe in taking it to their Lord in prayer
I on the other hand believe in tipping it into the seas in tears
I rain all my sorrows and joys in equal measure, into water, in all the forms she chooses to embody, she that is the healing arm of my mother Lobopo, for sweet release as she runs fountains down my cheeks and my eyes become pools filling up and spilling over with pent up emotions
she in turn soaks away all my aches and pains as I gain instant relief
My third eye receives and emits healing only when its fully emerged in her clear waters when they hold stillness
reminiscent of my great grandmother's gift of sight
inherited from her own great grandmother and she in turn from hers and so forth down the mortal coil of decendancy as committed to tribal memory
She is in me and I am partly her the healing hand of my mother metsi
She has always been the belt hoisting me to my ancestors since the day of my conception as I laid at rest in her being fortified before I entered the mortal realm
She runs deep in me as she oils, dilutes, cleanses, purifies and irrigates my being, to afford me the precious gift of life
I carry the distinctive mark of mother Gaia on me and it's a shining reflection of my original root that is planted on the banks of her rivers and even ponds all over my MamaLand
Planted within reach to her waters that keep my marrow moist and supple
I am a seedling of her fontanel Aferika where the pulse of life beats so raw, tender and bold that it leaves the bittersweet taste of nostalgia clinging to all the hearts she ever encounters
and all life forms latch onto her ample teat for sustenance
I give thanks to the arm of my mother water, for giving me life,
never forsaking me in my hour of desperate need
and for keeping me connected to the original source of my being Aferika
Form:
Feel the pulse
Dawn ushers light;
Songbird sermon
~~~~~~~~~
Noisy feet detour
Winding footpath;
Suffocates silence
~~~~~~~~~
Busy overload
Mobile devices talk;
Choking silence
~~~~~~~~~
Dreams evaporate
Working day attire;
Drowsy loitering
~~~~~~~~~
Morning temple crowd
Chanting melody;
Incensed offerings
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy eyes gaze
Blurry focus here;
Work day conspires
~~~~~~~~~
Blank faces
Crowded lift descends;
Zero contracts
~~~~~~~~~
Strange interface
Sea of faces;
Out-of-place
~~~~~~~~~
Subtle tension
Deliberate silence;
Roaming devices
~~~~~~~~~
Office mall complex
Busy feet intersect;
Faces unnoticed
~~~~~~~~~
Cold weather presides
Mindful meditation;
Sense finds feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Pretty woman
Crowded atmosphere;
Train ride punctuation
~~~~~~~~~
Stray conversations
Handy mobile cellphones;
Subway friendly talk time
~~~~~~~~~
Shaggy dog walking
Owner on a leash;
Random fertiliser
~~~~~~~~~
Office encounters
Dance of work regime;
Busy distractions
~~~~~~~~~
Business verbiage
Action in commotion;
Productivity gains
~~~~~~~~~
Sea of faces
Awesome potential;
Lost in a crowd
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
19 January 2015
Singapore