Long Enliven Poems
Long Enliven Poems. Below are the most popular long Enliven by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Enliven poems by poem length and keyword.
Godly Wisdom, knowledge, and understanding
Is the precious Purpose for mankind
Don’t give me lies and sugarcoated remorse
Meandering in my mindset — let’s be kind cuz I’m left behind, my mind…
There’s a divine sign above the doves align
Love of mine…love of mine…love of mine…
You’re doing fine in my utmost design
You’re my type of shine…shine…shine…
The Holy Spirit and the word of God
Satan the devil is quite a fellow so odd
Witchcraft warped my wretched mindset
I regret everything and I’m hella upset…all farewells met…to a hello in debt…I bet, now…somehow… I’m wet with unregret…
My heart of ripped-apart from the start calls to me inevitably
My art of broken spirits and all acquaintances unconditionally
God’s Kingdom come…
What have I become? So numb?
Slit my wrists of rapid warmth
Of blood dripping in a swarmth
Coagulate crimson on my tongue
Rung the song sung from my tongue
I want to be put to death to enliven my soul again
I want to mend me all over again — where you been?
Then again,
I cower in my den
My stomach is sour with remorse…I need a guilt divorce
Of course, you’re happy — you galloping, swirling horse
Pride and humility and envy mix in one pot
I am but a robot…I am giving it the best I got
Trials and tribulations give me five frustrations that funk my brain up
Shut up and listen, my medicine
Let your eyes and ears aglisten
Where the hell have I been?
Am I willing to forgive again?
Have mercy upon my good-luck trails
Have mercy on my terrifically terrible trials
O Lord, why have you designed
for every malady a medicine,
For every wound, a balm
leaving only love incurable?
This melancholy dusk
this smothering loneliness
and my mournful heart
pining for my beloved
in this godforsaken milieu.
If not to appease my yearning heart
My love, can you but come
to soothe this moaning moon
and lo, to console these teary stars?
Oh, for heaven’s sake,
do come to enliven
this woebegone skyline.
When a gust of wind sweeps by
the rustling of the fallen leaves
startles me and I begin to wonder...
Did you just pass me by?
~09/06/18
~For John Hamilton's Best Free Verse
July 1 - Oct. 1, 2018 contest.
~Brian Strand's 115 contest
She leaves footprints –
on the wet concrete of blinded doubts,
For she has carved lives - -
like graven images on the palms of her hands,
There is substance in her eyes,
fire in her soul,
zest in her spirit,
And her passion? –
She is anchor, rudder and dock, sail and compass,
Storms are her vanquished
for she kindles hope to enliven her faith,
Wars and Victories are her poems –
inked with blood, sweat and tears,
For she flames her faith –
with the winged cherubim and seraphim of prayers,
And in her steadfast stride,
barely noticeable are her hurts and pain,
She is wife and mother,
teacher and mentor,
support and pillar,
Give her a reason or none at all,
she is battle, she is warrior,
the Lord her Banner.
This fourth day of the second month –
she still writes her walk and talk,
With testimonies –
of unrelentless dauntlessness and dare,
She is that indomitable woman –
true to her name,
‘Nurturer and protector’ – Isadora
a languid tour of vintage cafes marks
the deep scent of robusta coffee and omelet...
hand in hand, an old couple recalls a first rendezvous
near this boulevard fifty years back
where dewy ferns and candles enliven drizzles,
so silky in a glint of bus lights reflecting
the same tranquility of this waning night...
and yet, the crystal mist floats on mantle
of air clutching lightly varnished gloves,
petal-shaped--embracing not the showers of life
on snapshots rendering brushes of kisses ...
but of fingers hugging fondness so kind, so kind
in the near twilight’s walk when remains
of age, of worn-out gloves ..take a fateful chance.
A Craigh Cornish Contest: Hugs
6/10/2020
One among the eight heroine types keen (utkanthita)
to end separation (viraha) from her beloved
____________________
My eyes long for one glimpse of thy visage
That eludes me like a mirage,
My arms ache imagining thy embrace
When will I see thou face to face?
All I desire, thy touch bereft for long,
O come, enliven the lonely notes of my song,
Come, let me remedy the cause
Of thy leaving me, what so hurting was,
Let not go waste this sandal paste on my forehead,
Let not these fresh flowers fade,
Nor kohl in eyes with my tears spread,
This golden belt on waist,
These silver anklets, all my ornaments,
And womanhood of my garments,
Join me to plead: O let no more time waste.
____________________
Natya Shastra | 01.02.2025 |
Note: This is first of Ashta-Nayikas, eight heroine types, as classified in a Sanskrit treatise on performing arts in Bharata’s Natya-Shastra. The state (avastha) of the eight romantic heroines widely themed in Indian paintings, literature, sculpture, classical dance forms and music. Virahotkanthita, suffering separation, is the first of the eight such heroines depicted here in poetic form.
In the morning I heard the tea pot singing,
With the amber liquid sizzling,
Saw spouts of vapor ejecting,
With a sweet aroma tickling.
While pouring my cup of steaming tea,
Adding some cream, a little sugar and stirring it
I thought of the magic effect it brings,
Reviving us on every morning and keeping us fit.
As we sip it while we scan the news paper
We feel the early languor being lifted,
Keeping us hydrated throughout the day,
With our cognitive abilities liberally assisted.
I feel there is nothing like a cup of well blended tea,
For a tired soul to enliven his body.
It’s delicious taste and delicate fragrance,
Make it everyone’s lovesome buddy!
It’s a heavenly drink for the torpid minds,
A beverage brewed from the best of leaves.
A magic potion for the feverish lips,
Which in tiresome hours, everyone craves.
Sure, teatime is the most pleasant family time.
How we babble and burble over a cup of tea
Drawing people closer and cementing relations.
Certainly, it’s a time to look forward with glee.
Love that is alive and thrills
Inspiration from the heart and soul
Feelings warming when there are chills
Encouragement to reach the goal
Soft and sensual, lights from within
Music that whispers through the azure skies
Yearnings that help us know where to begin
Stars that brighten lives with a blessed surprise
Truths expressed by brilliant hues of hope
Eternal embraces that enliven and enlighten
Reflections on the many ways we can cope
Insight into the spirits which will brighten
Enlivening breaths through the dance of life
Senses that bless and caress without any strife
Life's Myseteries Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
December 3rd, 2020
comparison is a pickpocket plucking joy from my handbag
I have been compared to countless things and things
that cannot be counted, or counted on
mostly fair assessments of character
only a handful of assassinations
I have been an assassin.
accused of killing
minutes carelessly turning earth, looking
for words to say the unnumbered and the unnamed
it is ineffable and I effing hate it like a hangnail
I cannot quit picking at the quick
then dousing it in ethyl alcohol, or the other kind
sometimes when I'm bleeding out from the ripped skin
I watch it dribble down my guilty fingers into the sink
with dried bits of fluoride still clinging
hard drips that won't rinse
there is never enough blood to fill the basin
never enough origin in your story to cover the drips
so I settle my savagery and rinse my hands of it
letting myself enliven at the sight of my innocent, open palms
instead of crying over a little gore, creating more horror
I hear the tea pot singing
With the amber liquid sizzling
I see spouts of vapor ejecting
With sweet aroma spreading
A cup of hot steaming tea
Revives us on every morning
As we sip it when we scan the news
We feel the early languor lifting
Nothing like a cup of well blended tea
For a tired soul to enliven his body
Its delicious taste and delicate fragrance
Make it everyone’s lovesome buddy
A heavenly drink for the torpid minds
A beverage brewed from the best of herbs
A magic potion for the feverish lips
Which in tiresome hours, everyone yearns
Tea time is the pleasant family time
How we babble and burble over a cup of tea
Drawing people closer, cementing relations
Sure, it’s a time to look forward with glee
Submitted for- A Brian Strand Standard Choice Poetry Contest
Placed First
April.22. 2022
Placed 9th
Anything You Want- New Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Chantelle Anne Cooke
Far from the din of madding crowd,
Away from the bustle of city life
I withdrew into a solitary spot,
To turn my thoughts into dazzling verse.
Shelley and Shakespeare came in view,
Emily and Eliot fell in line,
Their verses ringing loud and clear,
Their energy fanning fire within
I dreamt of putting proper words,
To clothe my thoughts in striking lines,
Longed to pour my loaded heart,
In powerful verse to move the hearts
But as I started scrawling down,
All that I had stored in hoards –
Ebbed out into mere froth and foam,
Leaving only broken thoughts
Will my Muse be here once again?
Or is it better to leave my thoughts unspoken?
However, I strained hard to give them life,
And labored in vain to make them rhyme,
‘The Blazing Sun’ and ‘Brilliant Stars’,
All faded out with no trace of glow.
I envisioned before me the Sacred Mount,
To drink from the fountain gushing down,
Alas! Only hot lava spurted out,
And the wings of fancy burnt outright!
Sad, my Muse didn’t appear to enliven me,
Nor my fantasy lingered long,
I stared blank into the scroll in front,
Unable to scribble even a moving thought.
Like a soldier vanquished in war,
I put away my pen for the time being,
Hoping my Muse would come down soon,
To inspire and help me script immortal verse!
Jan.4.2023
My Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Regina McIntosh