Long February Poems
Long February Poems. Below are the most popular long February by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long February poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Love Pairs Two by Pixabay.
When Love Was Paired To Blossom
When love was paired to blossom,
'twas lost words in a song,
Oaths and dreams didst fill the air,
'tis distance true and long,
Thus foolproof days fleet away,
September launched to June,
Paired love hath cared to blossom,
pray two 'tis best be soon.
When love was paired to blossom,
petals had strewn its ground,
Barren branch stretched on its own,
flowers no longer bound,
Time nor nature's caused compelled,
wither welts take its tolls,
Love that was paired to blossom,
adorns entombed paired souls.
2022 February 11
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND RIME
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 February 22
In the splendorous crown of my ardent heart
shimmering in the glow of the indigo night,
you gleamed like the tinsels of the moon.
I tried to feel your sapphire sheen touch,
but you drifted away slowly out of my sight,
from the seeking sky I had sculpted for you.
In the verdant vale of my cascading heart
your footprints impressed a turquoise trail.
As I walked with dream on its tortuous trace,
I discerned the remains of my love glimmer
in the mesmeric embrace of the moon dust,
showering on me the patina of your beauty.
From the ebony edge of the tranquil night
storm clouds surged with the thunders of strife,
splintered my sky of seamless yearning motif.
From beneath the dispersed debris of despair
I gathered the fragments of my broken heart.
These turned into stars sprouting one by one,
when you returned to my empty sky of longing.
Adorned by the moonbeam lattice of your grace
I configured my heart into a crystal constellation,
weaving an astral garland to embellish your love.
February 25, 2021
Contest : All Yours (Apr 20)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Not So Merry-Go-Round
Written: by Tom Wright
February 2015
I’ve been intimate,
With both poverty and abundance,
I’ve been introduced to failure,
But I’m friends with success.
I’ve championed causes,
And been blessed for my efforts;
Now, I bear the scars of time,
That life has scripted for me.
Span of years has assisted me
In becoming a dour person;
The things I wish; I can no longer,
The things I don’t; encompass me.
My days being routinely filled
With mundane things,
I search for things of interest,
Things, which might expose any value;
I flirt with day
While embracing the night,
It’s as if I’m stuck
On a not so merry- go- round.
Up and down, up and down,
Ride the old horse another day.
Anguish comes to me in the night,
With deep sorrow, I always fight;
Tears sadly, I cannot repress,
Grief tormented, I must confess.
Why do I have to live this hell,
In sadness will I ever dwell;
My life is one full of unrest,
Grief tormented, I must confess.
Ever, will I leave this lament,
Let go, and live in the present;
In poems sorrow I express,
Grief tormented, I must confess.
In a lovely cyber-world lost,
And from poem to poem tossed;
I pen my weeping in excess,
Grief tormented, I must confess.
And in gentle hands my words fall,
Before I can fly, this girl must crawl;
Each kind word is a sweet caress,
Grief tormented, I must confess.
I stand talking to the long past,
Tombs call to me, haunting and vast;
In writing, I share my distress,
Grief tormented, I must confess.
_____________________
February 25, 2016
Poetry/Kyrielle/Grief Tormented
Copyright Protected, ID 16-761-560-0
All Rights Reserved, 2016, Constance La France
A sultry Sunday afternoon at Shady Acres, unseasonably warm for February. Outside not a breath of air stirs. Heat, a shimmering wall, rises from a blacktopped circular drive. Sprinklers spray, and water sweeps in waves splashing on red-flowering bottlebrush shrubs that hummingbirds love so well. Inside are comfortable chairs and couches covered in cool Haitian cotton, area rugs with a Persian design in rose and beige, potted ficus and dwarf palms, and prints of quaking aspens and gardens artfully arranged on eggshell-tinted walls.
In this tranquil, tasteful place where no one really wants to be, an old woman sits alone in a corner staring vacantly out a window, a smudged and faded valentine clasped tightly in her gnarled right hand, the words "Will you be…" barely legible after so many years.
She sits where she sits every day, patiently waiting for something…or someone…she can't quite remember which. Perhaps it's the old man sitting alone in another corner of the same room staring out another window, trying to remember somewhere he was supposed to go, something he needed to do, someone he wanted to see.
Author's note: Dear reader, this is not, of course, a poem...exactly...but, since it's far too short to qualify as a story, perhaps it can pass as a "vignette" for Valentine's Day.
Our desires have brought us together,
Fate has brought us from our different worlds,
We have brought our disparate dispositions to a focal point,
We have intertwined our interests.
We have meandered and mended,
We have straightened and salvaged,
We have tailored and trimmed,
We still sojourn on this hope’s path.
Sometimes love’s lane could be clouded,
Sometimes love’s lane could be shrouded with stygian silhouettes,
Still, our love tunnelled through,
Its light found a place for our feet.
We have sailed tempestuous seas,
We have journeyed through the shrivelled meadow,
Our room has had its share of gloom,
Yet our love’s lane has emerged from the quagmire.
February 3, 2024.
when onset
of periodontal disease didst rear
innocuously unbeknownst then,
that...nada one tooth experts could spare
though grievously sad to bid teeth adieu
now, tis gratitude these words
pour favor at a tear
and second to none false teeth
at age LIX doth veer
rill lee inspire this
very satisfied patient
February of 2018th year.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
back in the day
aye gladly placed trust
asper resigned then questionable oral fate
before hairs turned gray
joining high achiever pact (and pack)
to endure academic gauntlet
divesting global incentive
with alacrity, humility, tenacity
and thus this poetic disquisition
to pay homage to aspiring successful
and alumni sporting ring of brass
aye honor within elite chattering class
one significant summa cum laude graduate
sum decades ago,
perhaps reclining, reflecting, and reimagining
latex gloved gloved hands (now retired)
'pon some tropical island paradise,
or freshly mown grass
incognito with sun glasses
revels Doctor John Brent
perchance bred (bingo) begot astute lass
or lad exemplary instructing
thru his own blood, sweat and tears
who (for x number of years)
treated patients in an ever growing mass
sieve lee tending a family dental practice
within Harleysville, Pennsylvania
asserted superb reference (on my behalf)
via telephone to Doctor Montgomery
(aye presume) also enjoying
his twilight phase (if alive - I hope).
The part of me spikes and
thorns couldn’t break
The path, the memory lane, I
skid it emotionally over the tick
nights
I’d to pass through that distant
relationship
_without brake
Changing what we’d to what we
have_falling back to lights
Living in the epoch where trust
won’t be a surprise
For the chateau you built in the
heart_stands tall
That I esteem over the cold
nights_until sunrise
Still I can’t wake_beside you, I
fall
Your chortle gives pleasure_that
over matters
Your lips_as red as the berries
‘’she was here’’ said the grey
matter
Not a dream_you still
here_evergreen like leafs of the
cherries.
Grim reaper scion donned as nodule on lung...
Lodged squarely upon corporeal property
(i.e. necessary soft tissue)
of Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan
mine eldest sister,
when medical technician informed
aforementioned unpleasant tidings
earlier today February 25th.
Utmost grievousness grips
analogous to invisible
strong hands strangulating
"I can't breathe"
while grappling trying to process
apocalyptic forebodings
(impinging on mine corporeal
fifty plus shades of gray matter).
Impossible mission
(insync with absent impetus),
thus renders feeble attempt
crafting poem,
yet unbridled (hyperbole
employed to accentuate emotion)
regarding brotherly love
upon being informed
most unpleasant tidings.
Laughter and sunshine
eradicated in one fell swoop
absolute zero peace of mind
until fortune teller
peers into crystal ball
and invokes divine intervention
whereby life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
buffets thee along
countless additional Earth orbits
around the sun
granted second lease on life.
Auspicious signs of
early birds taking wing
(in an effort to feast
upon diet of worms)
to celebrate advent of Spring
will be uber twittering
glad tidings of your
clean bill of health
ditto chattering squirrels
buzzfeeding unearthed
soil, mushrooms
and animal bones,
while yours truly delights
reading within partially secluded
outside triangulated nook,
(a favorite alcove of mine)
to bask under sheltering sky
feeling restoration of vitality
courtesy Herculean strength
of Mister Sun's powerful solar rays.
PostScript: my humblest apology
if word first choice constituting title
caused undue agitation,
cuz only genuine expression
courtesy unwavering optimism
insync with sixth sense intended
to trumpet Taj Mahal high hope
buoying your body,
mind, and spirit triage.
Abundant sunshine warms the day
Beauty delights, colors
call the soul to explore spring's gifts
Dappled woods, jonquils' butter
Echoing birds from tender limbs
Fabulous scents waft gently
Gorgeous sunrise transforms the scene
Habitats worked intently
Idealise the beauty of blooms
Jonquils, tulips flower
Keynotes to springs' vivacity
Luscious scents empower
Magnificent artistry lures
Narcissus white invites
Opulent scent streams forth in waves
Penetrating the night
Question not the wisteria's grace
Relish the beauty seen
Springform pan releases explosion
Tumbling out shades of green
Uninterrupted spring flows on
Validating rebirth
With wonder the world looks on
Xenopus gives birth
Yearly the splendor captivates
Zestiest season when love dates
Xenopus__An African clawed frog
Written: February 13, 2015
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest: Abecedarian
Theme: Spring
Finis'