Long Fantasyday Poems

Long Fantasyday Poems. Below are the most popular long Fantasyday by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fantasyday poems by poem length and keyword.


Acerora Latte

I day dream in the coffee shop 
My cafe latte is ready and hot
My mind is thinking about nothing but you
wondering if you are thinking about me or not

I day dream about your cherry lips
My cheeks get stupidly pink
My mind is in the thoughts asleep
Not fearing to melt or sink

I wonder if I will get to know you well
I wonder if you knew that I'm gazing at you
You make me feel like a stalker sometimes
You make me feel stupid and dumb too

But then, I imagine your smiley face 
The latte gets cold coz i forgot to drink
I don't care anymore I tell myself
I'm so in to you, just waiting for a wink

Enough day dreaming I seriously stop
I take my cup and start to drink 
It tasted like acerora i don't know why
I started to day dream about you again and rethink
© Kaila B.A  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Canto of Begging - 5 To 7

5. 
all long the day i beg 

i beg rice pulses oil salt 
royal blood

in exchange i also distribute
peace… peace… and peace…

and the horses of the gypsies making 
a dip-swimming in the peace-water

in the canto of my begging 
holding a whole body of love 
i learn how to be burnt 
by the shadow of the trees  

i give up all my courage 
to book a room in your youth 
only for me 

6. 
going upstairs on the railway foot-bridge 
i see the strong light of neon-lamps

the girl from the avtar of the flex
induced trance

the aroma of chhatim-flower in the air
and the song of a blind-beggar 
with tambourine

those neon-light flex-women 
beggar’s-song and flower odour 
i see they are all alive 
in the canto of my begging

under the evening-star

7. 
in the canto of my begging 
at the day’s end
the moon that rises behind the rain-tree

i put up in her hands 
the lemon-leaves the water-balloons the goal-kicks
that i have had throughout the day 
by begging 

and i beg from her the magic-wand 
by the touch of which the date-palm 
that was someday burnt by a thunder-bolt 
in front of the church
looks very infatuating 

and my dress as a beggar gradually
becomes a royal-dress

Differential Calculus

on the other-side of a grave wall 
there may rightly be a water-vessel 
that is chicken-hearted by birth  

there may not be around her 
a stretching of water-body 

do remember 
when we all went that day to catch the train 
the room of the rail-station was totally vanished 

after enquiry it was revealed that
it had gone to observe holidays with its family 
in the yolk of the eggs of the snipe 

before opening the no-door to take a leap i also knew 
that the top-branch of a green and large grasshopper 
was mainly made up of white-stones 

i did not also have 
any mystic words   
given by the moon 
to recite silently

so without caring for the water 
i made a all-complete ocean 
with sands and cement 

throughout the  year  
solvency gets down 
from the body of the traffic signal 

even-then 
the monsoon this year 
has been under the poverty-line  

and the ray of hope is that  
it is this circuitous route 
leading to the top of the himalaya 

that would one day 
play the tune of differential calculus 
on her guitar
may

Paper Buckles 1-3

1.
any colour may be applied to the 
night-dress 

this city actually has no cart 
driven by horses 

before a pretty long time the shepherds 
had also told adieu 

by secret signalling the red-hat addiction 
called the pigeons  sitting on the broken sticks 
of the antenna to come nearer

on those dead-news the travel-story 
keeps awake by whole night 
 
and pours down on eye-lids 
clouds 
wrapped with cellophane
 
one day that wave sent 
rolling-down-on-the-back hair
to the yellow balcony

those are all ancient drama 

in the glow of the back-light you can see 
civic humps have grown up on the back 
of the birds every day and night

yet 
under the dead-stop ceiling fan the dance 
of the virgin reel wet with sweat does not fall short 

the paper-buckles with the flowers painted on it
gets more and more tight on the air of the throat 

velpuris of the evening 
offer full enjoyment 

2.
the night that comes all walking on the sands of the desert 
how much concern does she has about the navigability of the river 

when the husk of the water-chestnut is got open 
flowing down the waves bursting into a blaze 

to that flow is open the motor-car
the wan procession 
and all the fishes that want to go upward the wave 

so many varieties of floating 

if the matter of clouds be let off 
the multi-coloured fingers 
also have so many infotainments   

if the question of  moveable property is  raised 
it is only a suicide-note from my father 

and a knot 
in the robe of the blue trouser 

3.
the trees and creepers of the night 
and the plants and herbs of the day 
do all of them have the same blood-group 

there is much flora 
inside the jail-custody also 
and in this ruins of the old palace
 
how much is it justified 
to express eagerness about the geography 
of one’s character 

specially of the trees 
of the fishes 
or of the humans 

it is said 
all rivers 
flowing through the bodies of the great men 
are totally virgin 

there is also the blank desert 
on the silent snow-valley 
in the corner of your 
lips

Premium Member A Voyage To Remember

The day that we left port, to new horizons we would sail
Knowing the dangers ahead, seafarers in the end we would prevail

Our journey from the Highlands from Inverness my home town
To Brazil in South America a new life to settle down

With charts of old we sail the seas
Passing the Antialtair Seamount with hardly a breeze

Our destination set, half way through our trip
Bridgetown, Barbados, on my elegant ship

We noticed a change a difference, on these high seas
Many nautical miles I've sailed but I've never seen ones like these

The sky had turned a colour I'd never seen before
Sporadic luminescent blues, like the beaches of the Azores

Our lookout suddenly shouts, dark shapes drift in the clouds
Before too long there is screaming, even the men cry loud

Swooping winged creatures descend, mouths agape with luminescent blues
Their tails whipping the swells, lacerating the waves we sail through

For many hours they probed as they swooped, a blue ball hovering over my ship
This is certainly a voyage to remember, to our new life on this trip

We finally reach Bridgetown, Barbados, my family and crew still in fear
When we sighted this land in the sun, we were deafened by our cheers

We reported in to the authorities, our run in with creatures unknown
They mentioned the Bermuda Triangle, and we were not alone

They have many reporting such as we, even fleets disappearing from view
To reach here as we have done, we are lucky, just one of a few

We thanked them for their assistance, as we set sail for our journeys end
To Vitoria a city so new, to our sawmill, our new life, Amen

As our world around us grew open, more tales and stories were told
Conclusions were never developed, maybe one day it will all unfold





http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-16.php
Form: Couplet


Carpe Diem

On a day back in the March of 2007, the world changed forever.
From the sky came a message to remember.  It showed a day when
the Maya played a Great Game.  They marked it Eleven to December.
Yes, the message would be rendered.  They put a count down
and it was called Number.  In the Heavens came a sound of thunder
and they knew, that it would be just right.

Looking up high they checked the sky at night and again in the daylight.
They made plans to carve a stone, leave a message that explains the flight.
Leave a message in the day and the night with temples and steps calculated,
Just Right.

Return they would to this date and time, retuning two through a simple rhyme.
It was meant to be, just this way.  A great ruler came to be one Day.
A journey and a life to remember, so the Maya marked a day in November.
The Dead looked down, the children abound so indeed, the good deed was rendered.

A Shield was sent as a dome of protection.  Colored and timed to exact perfection.
"The children shall not suffer" and for this, we play to remember.
We’ll mark this day and we'll call it November.
A day for the Dead to see that the children are better.

A great scroll was left tuning lines into letter.  Every day and night,
dedicated to the Journey of SOL, dedicated to the innocent who wouldn’t know,
that an evil never was.  "Seize the Day".   There is only Love....


And so it was written.
A single law spoken.
Just. Is Way.



“nueva pedido de los sabios”
“New Order of the Sages”
"nueva orden del día"
"New order of the Day"
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.
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