Long Esprit Poems
Long Esprit Poems. Below are the most popular long Esprit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Esprit poems by poem length and keyword.
When, while a father with two young girls,
ah charming children indeed
both wrapped around mine middle finger,
whose playful rebukes
this papa did heed
(who wished for a son),
he never did breed)
aplomb (fig your at Tivoli) found me
taking their fruitful lead
apple lee going bananas acceptable
mischievous behavior harmless misdeed
from this grown man,
sir render ring self to land
flat on me bum
as if drunk from mead
where playfulness my creed
years ago that streamed
by at lightspeed,
I experienced a
manifest destiny that freed
Aladdin side me, those decades,
sans long gone fatherhood
plus roles he learned to succeed
recalling catfights ('twixt
daughters) he refereed
who cherished those
offspring, he did seed
reckons adult opportunity
gifted yours truly mentoring
with excellence they did excede
to let loose once, and always frightened lad,
healthy development anxiety did impede
his spontaneity damned and leveed,
thus renaissance awoke to relive boyhood,
and prior to parenthood,
would be less apt to concede
how natural to bond with progeny
fostered by being keyed
into esprit de corps of biological charges,
now grown without need,
nor want of this
sudden embarrassment person,
whose absence in mein kampf did bleed
unstaunched sadness till affixing
available spare time with books to read,
and poems to write attempting to feed
an errant stray tear every now and again,
more pronounced as father time guaranteed
begetting precious bundles of joy,
how pedestrian days of yore like a tumbleweed
rocketed them thru preschool, kindergarten...
high school, college now this doddering
doth oft attempt (with futility) to reach them...
even cherished memories insync
with Jack and Jill Truck klaxon dost recede.
When songs of joy are sung, full-throated and deep,
lines of gay rhyme and cheer may blissfully spring;
but songs kept furtively never lie or sleep
within a bard's secret, inward being.
What germ of hidden verse can be his art?
When the mind envisions poetry, profound
phrases of love pouring out from the heart's
impassioned lips may multiply unbound!
But riddled in a cipher, kept inside
a closed conundrum, there's a magic key.
Encrypted, made to go viral, far, and wide,
in rhymes apparent is his mind's bel esprit.
For beautiful souls always shine, and find
in the other the gift of a great mind.
JE VAIS APRÈS TOI French Verse-
I’m Coming After You-
Par tes yeux je vois la teinte de ton cœur ;
Votre esprit s'élève au-dessus de tout ce qui ne l'est pas ;
La beauté de ton sourire, tes lèvres dévouées ;
Votre esprit est en pleine pensée spirituelle ;
Et je viens après toi...
Comme un vent de tornade soufflant sur les arbres, tu es fait pour moi ;
Et je viens après toi comme une brise printanière Je ne rêve que de toi et moi;
Et je viens après toi comme de l'eau sur un feu brûlant ;
Mon amour pour toi, tu ne connais pas mon cœur-esprit si terrible ;
Je suis après toi mais pas comme un stockeur ;
Je choisis de n'être qu'un patient témoin ;
Ceci, j'insiste pour que vous soyez ma nouvelle (Mme) Mme ;
J'ai craqué pour toi, c'est vrai ;
Je ne suis pas parfait mais je serais juste pour toi ;
Je ne te partagerai avec personne d'autre que Dieu ;
chérie je t'aime
et je viens après toi...
Comme une épingle de lumière dans l'obscurité
je viens après toi
Comme un lever de soleil matinal ;
je viens après toi
Maintenant, pendant que nous sommes encore en vie ;
je viens après toi;
Parce que je veux être ton homme ;
Je suis après toi mais pas comme un stockeur ;
Je choisis de n'être qu'un patient témoin ;
Ceci, j'insiste pour que vous soyez ma nouvelle (Mme) Mme ;
J'ai craqué pour toi, c'est vrai ;
Je ne suis pas parfait mais je serais juste pour toi ;
Je ne te partagerai avec personne d'autre que Dieu ;
chérie je t'aime
Et je viens après toi...
Comme un vent de tornade soufflant sur les arbres, tu es fait pour moi ;
Et je viens après toi comme une brise printanière Je ne rêve que de toi et moi;
Et je viens après toi comme de l'eau sur un feu brûlant ;
Mon amour pour toi, tu ne connais pas mon cœur-esprit si terrible ;
12/15/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Tongues of my temptress fire lick
arousing your ardent artistic desire
if you dare imagine me — the intensity
capture me, take your chance
I’ll love you, leave you, please you, tease you, traipse you,
take you heavenly higher
I'm your drama queen, diva, ballerina
I’m your fierce flamenco dance!
Scarlet swirls sweeping and dervish whirls weeping
we are a fluorescent fandango.
Flowing your ink through my virtual veins;
I'm your lust, your lament, your confession
in your skin stargazing, wrapped in rhymes rippling
your taste buds, your sweet wild mango,
breathe me to life with beauty and angst
I'm your dreamy rhapsodic obsession.
Fantasy clouds I fly, your bird-of-passionate-paradise
plumage preened with geranium esprit
in rhythmic rapture, twirl me in provocative pirouettes
flare the sensual skirts of your mind.
Alive in your heartbeat, I pulsate;
- you love me - hate me - need me - you can’t live without me -
I personify designs dancing across your page
of our pillow talk poetically lined.
Forge my nature in your flame as I mesmerize you
I am your ingénue;
your soulful seduction strumming my spirit to liveliness
with an effleurage of emotion...
I’m the creation of your inspiration
a dazzling display of ravish red and citrine hue
in prose I pose arabesque till vivid verse sets me free;
a flamboyant flamingo, your flirtatious muse in motion.
Ascension
Sous une brume matinale
je vagabonde les rivages
des souvenirs
à la recherche du passé
dans les lits de rivières desséchées
vestiges de jours écoulés.
La vie nous dirige
vers plusieurs sentiers périlleux
les idées enflammées de souffrance
en attente d’une deuxième renaissance.
Affranchi des chaines
en chair et esprit
convoitant la proximité
de l’être cher qui habite
le palais au-delà des cieux.
Hissé envers la luminosité
ultraviolette libéré de soi.
-traduction
* * *
Original poem written by Essama Chiba:
Lifted Up
In the morning mist
I stroll on shorelines
Of memories
Searching for the past
In dry river beds
Of yesterdays.
Life takes us down
Many paths near the edge
Mind afire in burning pain
Waiting for a second birth.
Emancipated from both
Flesh and spirit
Longing for closeness
Of a devotee that resides
In the mansion of the sky.
Lifted up in the luminosity
Of violet light freed from self.
-Essama Chiba
AP: 2nd place 2021 (for my translation)
EASTER 2018: A SPACE ODDITY
Two thousand eighteen a space oddity of sorts.
We’ve beamed back to my home, dear Scotty.
Dynamic duo of entertaining sisters on cruise, in airports.
I’ve called up the past, for a sprinkling of Easter esprit.
Hmm...hummingbird cake, what a delectable dessert to bake.
Not from the sunny South, but I think I’m up to the task.
Sure, I’m not skilled, but this New York gal will whip up a fake,
tutored by Southern Living magazine and a flavorful wine flask.
Mom’s recipes, stained by long ago use, for pressurized pork chops
along with a rich casserole: potatoes, eggs, heavy and sour cream,
Italian bread crumbs sprinkled on top. Coming over early, Mom and Pops.
I’m an adequate cook, but it’s superlative to have a backup team.
Children, grandkids, my brother and wife, will bring their specialties —
smiles, food, and a whole lot of chaos and fun. How blessed I am!
And the buds and the flowers cheer us on after the long Winter freeze.
We will host this Resurrection celebration, then collapse as all scram.
3/30/2018
Cecilia Hopkins-Drewer’s Easter 2018 Contest
‘if I could I would fetch you the moon a spoon …’
opalescent like a chakra’s rainbow
your lustrous promise kindled
a path to peace and stability
to the moon and the back of beyond
shining darkness
radiance emerging from shadows
archetypal togetherness forged from above
a pearlescent moonstone
bestowed on our marriage
guided by an expanse of time and space
crowned with infinity
and transcendental esprit
infused by mind body and soul
lunar crescents shone waned
and waxed once again
for better worse richer poorer
in insanity and restoration
to love and to cherish ...
founded on divine intervention
heavenly bliss interspersed
by carnage and despair
blessed by the gift of recovery
it took what seemed like eternity
to understand that
not moon spoon nor
what wants to be written in stone
can be taken for granted
a moonstone
represents more than
stardust to become
or a fanciful pebble
carved by the Universe
love thoroughly vanquishes obstacles
and has inscribed miracles
into our wonderful lives
Mein Das-Stilled Vintage Spirits Score-Hitched...
From Bottled Up Rage
Daily app pair rent
revelation, observation, and
intimation invariably concludes,
this aging baby
boomer (albeit youthful)
inescapably lock up
(until death me part)
inside complex edifice
re: guarding self made trap
rocketing into orbitz
of mine twilight years thrusts,
upon this pop (sic) crack
kill forcibly to snap
attention back into
the present, yet unable
to shake off feeling dismayed,
viz hit ting head
with bleak recap
cha regular basis finds me
reassessing, reliving,
and reviewing
psychologically pock
marked scarred
psyche indelibly mapped
e'er since this narrator hapt
tubby a little boy at
tender preschool age
his esprit de corp
joie de vivre analogous
to a rat locked
in an undersize invisible cage
devoid of emotional, physical,
and spiritual equipage
with 20/20 hindsight, I attest,
he seemed bereft
of empathy gauge
as attested by donning
slovenly swiftly tailored,
unkempt harried styled
appearance, a foiled image
that any stranger, family
member, or classmate
could discern, sans
intuitive knowledge
Hawaii didst poorly manage
thyself and island
did self smoldering
wool worth deadly sabotage!
Lockdown over, I had to head to school
my pupils waiting to learn the golden rule
I got ready and put on that mask
following the health protocols is a must
How would I each word articulate?
and those whole lessons explicate!
***
Principals in their towers have their say
and teachers, Skills For Life, have to convey
So eager to see my pupils and join the classroom
no time to spend with colleagues in the teachers room
Just virtual wishes.. Love and hugs
and the joy of all the social media tags.
***
I looked weird, in need of a breathing space
with that mask and my glasses, nothing remained of my face!
High time I proceeded with the warming up
avoiding to preach or give a negative heads up
A perplexed look in my pupils eyes I could see
a strong desire to build in them a motivational esprit
***
Nothing has changed, me doing all the talking
in day dreams they seemed to be sinking
My voice in the void echoed, "am I speaking Chinese?
I'm afraid, these are but the English language abcs!"
'If you can't turn the page, burn the book'. "Would you please paraphrase?
not all at once, please, one at a time as always!"
***
"Sorry teacher, we didn't bring our textbooks"
I was maddened but they got nothing from my looks
"Teacher, isn't burning books wrong and bad?!"
I felt deeply disappointed but could nothing add!
I see you've been learning English off by heart!
and with revision you've torn your minds apart!
***
We are wise and curious, teacher! glued to our smart phones
learning from Peaky Blinders.. Breaking Bad.. and Game of Thrones!
I thanked God I was wearing that shielding mask
I could resist my rage and carry off the teaching task.
To my pen, a deep gratitude for such a relief
such a consuming task could make funny and brief.
pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution
expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice
usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
* * * * * * * * * * * *
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision)
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones,
and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days,
which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates
in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.
Form: