Long Envisions Poems
Long Envisions Poems. Below are the most popular long Envisions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Envisions poems by poem length and keyword.
Love isn't just a single word
or feeling
Said to tickle an ear and
leave you reeling
Nor is love abstract and
void of care
But what one envisions and
does all year
We convey our love by
things that we do
When a loved one is hurting
we hurt too
Love is conveyed by deeds
not merely said
And connects us all with a
common thread
Love is single soul
embedded in two separate
bodies
That keeps the heart
beating for many centuries
Love isn't a feeling for a
short period
For Its care is countless and
myriad
Love is a word some find
difficult to say
But it leaves an enormous
price to pay
Love is feeling of endless
sacrifice
That can never be bought
with no price
Love is bond that binds two
souls
Its a great gift that must be
extols
Love is a shield that not
only blinds our heart from
hate
But distance our soul from
all forms of irate
Love means when one
hurts us, we forgive
Not five years later to bring
up and relive
Love takes our soul to
where it belong
for it keeps no record of
wrong
Love means to give without
asking
For it makes living on earth
basking
Love is boundless and
priceless
Its limitation is endless
Love sometimes forces on
us a ling wait
But love never delegates us
power to dictate
Love is that master key to
the door of happiness
Its the bricks that forms the
mantle of success
We don't have to agree
with each other to love
For God gave me what I
was unworthy of
What's held in your heart
your mouth will speak
So before speaking do a
mental critique
love is never idle or to be
cast in mothballs
I see love as a servant in
coveralls
In short, Love is GODS
nature in procreation
For it's the genesis of
human creation
With his weary fingers bending
Around the neck, touching the strings
Like he caresses his wife, intimately
Struggling to feel the perfect pose
Music softens the moments of solitude
~
Within her grasp she grips gently
Round the brush, tenderly, with affection
Clasping as she would a child’s cheek
Whispering smooth strokes along the canvas
Painting the reflections of her feelings
~
With his work worn hands feeling
Manipulating the clay, moving it quietly
Swaying, dancing, molding the mud
Wrestling the shape into a form he envisions
Will reach into another’s soul, sending wisdom
~
Within her embrace are sweet mares, stallions
Listening with bent ear to her murmurs
Reciting to them, revealing, peaceful dreams
Collections of wise hopes that create steeds
Who will be ridden across the mountains and beaches
~
With his ability to speak with the fragrant earth
Cultivating emerald stalks and seas of vivid blooms
Reflections of sun and rain, rising from the hazy morn
Waking to honeyed hues of dewdrop roses and ferns
Purifying the ground with seeds that abound, grow wild
~
Within her anointed grip, she holds treasured mysteries
Crafting quilts, pillows, a history of needle and threads
Brilliantly colored yarns that dance with tantalizing dyes
Hinting at sensitive gestures known only to hands born
For fashioning yards of linen with a skill that is mystifying
~
With his passionate muse capturing the emotions known
Only to those who have felt strongly; love, joy, intimacy
Moods that dance from the pages filled with so many words
Verses, prose and poems, welcoming the reader’s attention
To details which brave the weather and come alive with insights
~
Gifts sent from heaven to souls who long to give back to Him
Some small creation which will help another see that the answers
All point toward the creator who gave these gifts of love!
Gifts poetry contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Written and Posted on June 18, 2020
For the day when thee head hits pillow
In that last breath of might
In that starry time of night
Where one travels to another world
Almost as lucid as ours
And envisions malice and might
Perched upon a hill
Awoken adjacent to a mighty spire
Gleaming of silver, selenium, and solitude
Upon day it stood still
Casting shade guided by time
But as twilight faded to night
It shone beams of miraculous light
Perched upon a hill
A picturesque scene
The Autumn breeze blew tales of wonder
Down the fields of green that grew yonder
carrying the scent of the azaleas and sweet grass that bloomed below
¬¬¬A glimpse at such a sight
A pleasure by day- Gift by night.
What a sight to see
If only you could see it with me.
And their she will be waiting
At the foot of the spire
Bathing in the midday sun
Waiting for your return
As she loves you so.
You will be united once more
And live happily forever more
But this world is no place for two
Only accessible one person at a time
Stuck in a periled pantomime.
I love you so
Goodbye my darling.
Whenever I’m alone,
As usually I am these days,
I make room to acknowledge
The weight of my own presence
By minding the tide of my breath.
It flows in on a four-count
With the ease of deliberate intent
Advancing toward its seawall limit.
It flows out on an eight-count
Revealing a beachcomber’s dream.
In that moment my mind envisions
Outstretched sands littered by time
With everything ever’s been lost
By all romantic searchers
Navigating treacherous seas.
It isn’t hard to feel unloved.
It’s easy as taking a breath and letting it go.
Letting go of everything
Is all one really gets to do.
It’s just a matter of time.
The Crocked souls final Toll
In the veil of darkness,
There creeps the crooked ugly dark soul
Who opened Hell’s door
With a key stolen from the gate keeper
Hiding so nobody sees it
Looting anything worth coin and pure
With a dark plan within its soul
How to resurrect its self
As an innocent soul
As it envisions itself as dignitary
Throwing its sulphur glare
At folk who challenged it
It couldn’t hold its contempt to long
As Hell’s bells rang
Then folk’s sudden realisation
It was stealing from them
They took the key and prey tell
It got caught and thrown back into Hell.
She lies upon this bed with a rose across her chest, symbolizing all that she once had and will not too soon forget
But his conscience can’t be bothered with her pain, and the tears that stain her pillow one by one they call out his name
She lies in repose of their last lover’s breath, and she clutches the rose so tightly imagining it’s his head upon her chest
She can remember the way his fingertips felt as they danced across her smooth skin, and she envisions for just a moment that they could be this way again
But in her heart, she knows he left this bed forever as she recalls when he last kissed her lips so sweet, and she holds so tightly to this memory that her heart won’t let her stop seeing in her mind on repeat
She can feel his arms around her and feel his lips upon her skin, and she lies there just waiting and wishing that it could have been
She cries out his name into the darkened room praying that where he is he will hear her cry, but she knows that as this rose, he has left her memory to die
How could something so beautiful hold another knowing that it’s beauty will fade? But to her it will still hold its meaning long after it changes its shade
When he gave her the rose, he said he loved her so true, and she gazed into those eyes she loved and could see and feel it too
She knew they shared a love that would never be surpassed, and as she lies here all alone on this bed her heart repeatedly asks
“Why wasn’t it enough to make him stay?” “What changed his mind?” If she was all that he had ever wanted, why can’t they go back in time?
She wonders sometimes if he can still feel her that way that she can him? While he is lying beside someone else does he ever pull her close and pretend?
Or does he sleep soundly without a thought of her ever crossing his mind? To hear him tell it he moved on with his life
But here she lies as though she is strapped to this bed, clutching onto a single, long, stemmed rose with the vision of the man she will forever love in her head.
Lo, I am about to create new heavens
And a new earth
Isaiah 65:17
Isaiah describes a new creation of universal happiness
Example food and good health for all
His words seem a stark contrast to our usual headlines
Is this wishful thinking?
Not really
Isaiah envisions a future not yet fully realized
A future in-process
Jesus shared Isaiah’s vision
He called it the kingdom of God
Jesus came to make this vision a reality
Not merely by curing physical illnesses
But curing selfishness
Pride
Greed
Hatred
What’s more
Jesus said this kingdom is already in our midst
We get glimpses of it if we look closely
Strangers
Selfless parents
Devoted nurses
Dedicated Educators
Smiling Octogenarians
Caring neighbors
Teenage volunteers
Generous donors
Families welcoming newborns
And much more
Sr. Melannie Svoboda S.N.D.
Turned to Poetry: Jac R. M.
Poetry Form: Free Verse
this middle aged rue stirring bummer
haint no stranger to cold,
when dark hen stormy wintry days
eggs hit from Arctic portal en fold
ding Atlantic Seaboard
in a blizzard of bitterly, blindingly, and
brutally sub zero temperatures
from an occasional nor'easter
fiercely gripping hold
the majority years, sans this prolific
recalcitrant scrivener lived
in various and sundry abode
housed within Southeastern
Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
with 19*** zip code,
and during my boyhood recall,
how massive ice sheets did erode
the (then) opened expansive farmland,
in preparation for planting time,
where runnels of frigid water flowed
with childish cheeks exposed to glowed
after hours upon
many a green acre got tilled and hoed
despite feeling energized and refreshed
with arms and legs n'er fro zen
aye didst eagerly await with exuberant yen
kickstarting thy body electric
experiencing hearthstone nook
designed and built by Christopher Wren
after heading indoors counting fingers
and toes to make sure, i still got ten
soon hearing the chorus of fauna,
and floral kaleidoscope of color
aground or taking wing
thus, upon thawing out thoughts
drifted toward approaching spring,
the season revitalizing
dormant natural inhabitants,
whose excite (like mine) didst ping
announcing the debut of fecundity
nsync with screeching from the lizard king.
This Spring Equinox (i.e. man date:
12:15 PM Tuesday,
March twentieth two thousand eighteen)
doth rejuvenate
inviolable hibernating animals
and plants, and me equate
to experience sensation,
whereby entire being does inflate
and (despite marital status),
nonetheless envisions another gal asthma mate
no...no...no...please do not think this chap
mean spirited and under rate
the woman (at present taking a siesta,
and i breathe easy),
who oft times doth henpeck, a trait
inherited many a chic hen
(with tantalizing tail feathers)
now (until she awakens)
proscribing yours truly to wait
for my repast most likely ad hoc
moist ideal for any nerdy kid to knock
senseless, the worst facet of self important jock
consisting of pop slop mock
Hungarian Goulash, a melange
of relics from age old meals
transformed into a petrified sawed little rock.
Deliberately inching its way toward break of day,
The morning sun begins to emblazon the barley field.
Relaxing and watching the orb find its way,
The lady of the house waits for night to yield.
Like every morning, she is seated there,
Enjoying the dew scented breeze on her veranda.
Feeling its coolness on her scalp while combing her hair,
And the warmth of the rising sun becoming grander.
Her mind wanders back to the city of her birth,
Just over the rise, beyond the barley field’s treasure,
Lies the city with the most famous name on earth,
Where, in her youth, she was a lady of pleasure.
To Rachab went all of Jericho’s possession,
By decree of God, for which Achan was stoned.
For this soldier could not control his obsession,
Though aware the city’s riches were God’s own.
With God’s grace, Rachab’s wisdom grew,
And she made the city’s outskirts her spread.
Her land into a field of grain did accrue,
A breadbasket from which hordes were fed.
Her hires were the finest laborers in the land
And were busy harvesting barley all spring.
She paid the very best wage to every man,
Cause her crop was the best early rains could bring.
The fields and glades, that gave her pasture form,
Seemed sensuous in every contour and rise.
At daybreak, contrasting tones were the norm,
Painted artfully by the brightening skies.
Mounds appeared convexly round breasts,
Lovingly sculpted over a span of human girth,
Whose beauty was able to put the heart to a test,
As the machinery of memory rotates the earth.
Babbling brooks flowed from shady nooks,
Giving refreshment to denizens of land and sky,
Producing a scene of green worthy of picture books,
That not one skilled artist would dare deny.
Gingerly she rose the doorway torch to quench,
Watching the shrinking darkness become shadows.
Rachab calmly returns to her veranda bench,
To observe butterflies dance above the meadows.
In her dreams, she envisions a more golden age,
When royalty would be attributed to her seed.
A zephyr flows over her mind turning the page,
But she still aspires the prospect of the throne to accede.
What a lovely story to behold just beginning to dawn,
Rising out yonder, just beyond the horizon of time.
How we yearn to see that age return, now long forgone,
So our hearts may once again be joyous and sublime.
Yes, I am thinking about the human race
Please note that race has ‘four letters’
And most four-letter words
Can cause problems, ills, havocs and wars
Race is to describe what fills up the space
It is a trivially descriptive and unstable concept
Like water, liquid or gas with no obvious context
The human race is synonymous with humanity
Which makes a lot of sense, but unfortunately
Witless people who talk crabs and craps tend to misuse
This four-letter word with bias, single-mindedness and hubris
It is basically grouping what one presumes, envisions or sees
Race means nothing, lees, dregs and slags with no sound gist
Fill in the blank, if you can
As we all know, first God created one man and one woman
I wonder who would disagree with this assessment
For procreation’s sake that a man and a woman
Form a couple to make babies or infants
Race means species. How many species did God conceive?
The Almighty Providence created Adam and Eve
I feel strongly that God solely cares about one race
The only one that he created in the Garden
On Earth was born somewhere in Africa
Like it or not, we are descendants of two Africans
I dare anybody to prove that I am incorrect or false
Next time somebody mentions or talks about race
Feel free to laugh as loud as one can in this person’s face
Real history is full of stories, theories, jokes, lies, guesses and farces
Nowadays in order to be politically correct, ‘men’ in plural, one would say
A man and a woman. Amen! We also know that ‘men’ love to divide
To conquer, to lie, to cheat, to invent and to betray with false pride
Keep on thinking deep! Let’s not stop until we comprehend the nonsense
Around you and me (humanity). Let’s protect the human race
Let’s not dissect and divide humanity, by inventing more races
In the wind, under the sun, the moon and the stars
Did God create many groups or species?
Let’s think deep, deep about the human race.
Copyright © February 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.