Long Ferny Poems
Long Ferny Poems. Below are the most popular long Ferny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ferny poems by poem length and keyword.
I am going on a jungle journey,
and I plunge into a frightening world;
hidden layers of foliage ferny.
Gazing at me is a very strange bird,
I am drenched in adventure and magic;
and I plunge into a frightening world.
A wrong step or move could be so tragic,
pausing, I smell decay and creeping moss;
I am drenched in adventure and magic.
Moon glows on the river like a caress,
gathering water I drench my body;
pausing, I smell decay and creeping moss.
Through the water slithers something spotty,
could be an anaconda- I shiver ...
gathering water I drench my body.
She rises and I see her head hover,
I am going on a jungle journey;
could be an anaconda- I shiver _
hidden layers of foliage ferny.
_____________________
April 07, 2022
Poetry/Terzanelle/Into the Jungle
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1446-225-07
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, An Original Terzanelle
sponsor, L MILTON HANKINS, NA, Judged 05/04/2022
Since a small child, I have been one with Earth,
Green winding tendrils have captured my very heart;
I would follow my father with innocent mirth,
A love for nature and earth was my start.
And into the deep, earthy green we would journey,
I still hike forests and feel the connection;
Meandering I caress the green, mossy and ferny,
I often drop to my knees for a better inspection.
Fallen leaves and flora of the forest decay,
Feeding the soil and make it strong and fertile;
Wildflowers grow reaching and I gather a bouquet,
And hidden in the undergrowth is a turtle.
All in life depends on the earth and its health,
We must all protect what we have for the future;
It is more important than possessions or wealth,
Into the green I go for tranquility to capture.
_____________________________
March 23, 2020 (March 8, 2016)
Poetry/Rhyme/"Ebb of Life"
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1238-438-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted into the contest, Strand Choice O
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
Forlorn and lost,
I hang my head like a dying flower;
scars on my soul are mossed,
I drown in dregs that devour.
My journey has left my life garden so ravaged,
but, I must leave this forlorn that keeps me damaged;
and hope must be salvaged.
I will find my strength and power at any cost !
Hope is like water,
and though life is a struggle and journey;
I am my mother's daughter,
and will battle all those vines ferny.
There will be twists and turns and days that taint and stain,
but, against the winds I will break my forlorn chain;
to find my way in the rain.
And forlorn will be rinsed away with the hope water !
_______________________
April 13, 2021
Poetry/Rhyme/Forlorn Hope
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1346-851-13
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol 2
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 05/13/2021
Third Place
Life comes as it goes
It is designed as it flows
The easiest parts
Come with the hardest darts
Aiming from all directions
Guiding you on your next connections
To strengthen your soul
And navigate through the celestial pole
An everlasting journey
That will reveal itself like a ferny
Come to discover your hidden abilities
It will cleanse any hostilities
From the depths
I rise!
No longer feeling the pain
Having been through it and coming out sane
It’s a hard knock life as they will say
Keeps coming at me every single day
Protecting my thoughts from being taken away
It comes as it goes and it will become a surprise
From the depths I rise!
Will continue to pray for strength
To battle these demons through a multi wavelength
Keeping them at bay
Rinses my soul off of harms way
No matter how many times the rain dries
From the depths I rise!
Not knowing how or where I will go
I will continue to flow
To the sound of my heartbeat
As the wind blows through me
Wiping away my tears from my eyes
From the depths I rise!
No longer hurt in fear
Does not matter if the end is near
It will always be blue skies
From the depths I rise!
This Life
From a child taught Catholic creed,
drilled, drilled into me by school nuns;
those teachings will never recede,
but, since those days I have lived tons.
Spirituality, is life,
I found this on my long journey;
and when life stabs me with her knife,
I seek the deep green and ferny.
In the silence of a forest,
I contemplate all chosen paths;
in the peace of a birds chorus,
yet, still I feel the sting of wraths.
With a mindset of courage, strength,
and a moral way of thinking;,
and a soul with great depth and length,
I just face this twisted life unblinking.
My Next Life
I can see a girl in shadows,
she looks like me but is not me;
I will find her in death's repose,
and will awaken as this she.
In afterlife, I am reborn,
to a unique language spoken;
odd rituals to welcome morn,
I find symbols of God broken.
My past life is gone and erased,
I have no emotions at all;
there is no sorrow to be faced,
no friends, no lovers to enthrall.
This new life a bottomless void,
I wonder for this place called Earth;
for here I am a humanoid,
maybe, maybe on my rebirth.
As Our Breath Flows, Here and Now
So, having considered all this,
I think I will embrace living;
seeking serenity and bliss,
total acceptance and giving.
I am okay with the fast pace,
and will be the best I can be;
for the Lord will provide me grace,
life a puzzle given to me.
I will weep and mourn when I must,
will hold to my heart memory;
write words to release as stardust,
and treasure each sweet reverie.
And when death comes to claim this girl,
let me repose deep in my grave;
beneath blue sky where the clouds swirl,
and lay roses like a red wave.
________________
December 8, 2021
Poetry/Quatrain/Doublethink Beliefs
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1411-921-08
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Doublethink Beliefs
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 12/31/2021
First Place
Of fair weather, it holds me in its charms.
Godspeed of June, be jealous for light rays.
She’s heard my plea, now let me play and smile.
The pleasantries; hotlanta held at bay.
And withstanding the green and merry glow,
the yellow blooms, the aha reds, sky blues,
I reminisce and kiss and sigh, soaring
with feet of dendrites’ pulse and oxygen.
The rush of oaks, maples, and bonny crépes;
the sweep of wind through open drive - alive!
The ferny mimosas, feathery pink -
Sensations flip; I’m head-to-toe, euphoric.
Teeter-totter…not yet! The sun’s broadcast
will keep the mornings cool - ‘lanta in June!
Photography is a visual expression,
I love capturing images frozen in time;
Sometimes, I snap close-up details of the flowers,
I stroll city streets searching for the sweet sublime.
I love capturing images frozen in time,
photography is an adventure and journey;
Love going on hikes in the city and nature,
I am often stalking wildlife on paths ferny.
Sometimes, I snap close-up details of the flowers,
I am developing my own personal style;
emptying my wallet for photographic gear,
and find photographing architecture worthwhile.
I stroll city streets searching for the sweet sublime,
finding inspiration in statues and old tombs;
not in a morbid way but as an expression,
I feel so creative when my camera zooms.
__________________________
February 13, 2019
Poetry/Quatrain/Photography: A Journey Creative
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1114-485-13
All Rights Reserved, 2019, Constance La France
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.”
Quote by _Delia Owens
Saturated colored leaves like jewels,
drift on a serendipity journey;
skipping, jumping and leaping with no rules,
the gold, orange, red, yellow and ferny.
On the breeze the petrichor leaves have wings,
they have waited all summer long to fly;
soaring gracefully they are vivid things,
some withering leaves want to kiss the sky.
Flowing hued leaves glow as if from within,
flying about like wild strange birds set free;
joyfully they twirl, whirl, swirl, float and spin,
blending together briefly with sweet glee.
The colored beauties whisper and dance;
on a short- lovely and enchanting prance.
________________________
December 28, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Sonnet/Leaves With Wings
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1512-728-28
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Feel Free, Inspiration Quote #7
sponsor, Sara Kendrick, Judged 01/06/2023, Ninth Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, Your Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/11/2023
First Place
My deep roots,
Oh, so precious my blood and roots,
yesterdays shadows creep and cling;
odd, I have the same attributes . . .
The past lays icy hands to bring,
me my foundation;
and my formation,
and from the long past and the dust of time;
I have been told sweet stories sublime.
Father's ancestors came from France,
with dreams of life- in a green land;
they came by boat to take a chance.
Grandpa worked hard as a farmhand,
and his father, too;
under a sky of blue . . .
One day to Paris, France I will journey,
to find some names on tombs ferny.
Grandma was Ojibwe, First Nation,
these are people of many tales;
and I hear the drum vibrations,
since a child told things and details,
I embrace the call;
I want it all-
all the teachings, the history;
the tapestry and beautiful mystery.
To my family thanks for all your truths,
and mom for guiding me on this path;
and for all those twisted routes,
since a child I followed the Indian flutes.
speaking to my heart;
of tales that will not depart-
I say thank you to my family for this all;
and for my deep roots.
__________________________
May 17, 2017(Edit Dec 9, 2019)
Poetry/Bio/Family Roots
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1206-440-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonyn.
Submitted to FTI Special Family
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
Oh, so precious our blood and roots,
yesterdays shadows creep and cling;
odd, I have those attributes . . .
The past lays icy hands to bring,
my foundation;
my formation,
from the long past and dust of time;
have been told sweet stories sublime.
Father's ancestors came from France,
with dreams of life- in a green land;
they came by boat to take a chance.
Grandpa worked hard as a farmhand,
and his father, too;
under a sky of blue . . .
One day, to France I will journey,
to find some names on tombs ferny.
Grandma was Ojibwe, First Nation,
these are people of many tales;
and I hear the drum vibrations,
since a child told things in details,
I embrace the call;
I want it all-
all the teachings, the history;
the tapestry and beautiful mystery.
____________________
May 17, 2017
Rhyme/My Deep Roots
Copyright Protected, ID 901339
Written for the contest, Ancestral Roots
sponsor, John Hamilton
Third Place