Long Fervid Poems
Long Fervid Poems. Below are the most popular long Fervid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fervid poems by poem length and keyword.
Impressed upon those desert dunes
that stretch back o'er the years,
my lonely prints hear fading tunes
as sand seals wind-swept fears.
A fervid gust comes whisking past,
disrupting settled pains.
Warmth enwraps my heart at last,
emitting torrid rains.
No fair mirage could conjure this
I taste from deepest springs.
No cactus thorn could pierce this bliss
that hearts at risk can bring.
This arid wasteland starts to thrive
as streams of ardor flow.
No dreams of grace must I contrive
for blooms of love now grow.
A splendor-realm from 'twining roots
has breadth beyond this land
where passion's sky-borne geyser shoots
erupt from burning sand.
A beautiful oasis shines
where barren ground once laid.
A set of footprints now defines
the melody that’s played.
The sparkling dawn lights up
my heart’s ebony horizon after the onyx night,
spreads the sunburst colors of yearning
in the fervent garden of desire,
blossoming with the patina of my love,
that swathes the facsimile of your floral face.
In the vibrant valley of my mind,
contoured by the lilting lattice of longing,
I carve the enthralled course of craving
to reach your charismatic space.
The fervid cloud of passion
melts in a compelling torrent,
makes my limitless love
a cascading river where I swim.
Suffused with the diffused drizzle
of my love in tarnished twilight,
you disappear out of my sight
beyond the garden of budding delight.
Your footsteps trample my emotive flower,
with its crumbled petals I make a wreath
for my broken heart in debris.
Losing the remains of my longing
in the ruins of my shattered essence,
I saunter with sullen feeling
to the silent shore of sorrow.
My emotions swirl unbound
like the dislodged rolling sands
in the tides of tormenting time.
On the sighing sea of despair,
made of copious drops of tear,
descends the somber shadow
of the nostalgic night’s slate sky,
split asunder by the cobalt cold flash
of the tearing thunder,
in the memory horizon of oblivion.
I live now only to seek you,
for I walk alone in the wasteland.
I couldn’t take you to the blooming valley,
where I’ve made my love shine
like billion buds of ruby roses
that couldn’t entice you,
for you feel too much is enough.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree—
A belle crooning nature’s glee,
Splendorous as seasons’ glory.
A ballad of resplendent spring
In stanzas cherry-blossom pink
Uplifting moods of lovers
Lost in heart-shaped leaves
Fluttering soft lavender breeze
Arousing romantic appeal
In fuchsia hues of redbud trees.
A verse of feisty summer winds
Swaying beats of majestic oak
Rustling big-leaf maple trees
Hosting dance of perky sparrows
Choreographing mating tempo--
Magnolia’s white blooms evoke.
A lyric of autumn’s aspirations
Scripting chorus in blazing colors,
Red, orange, purple, yellow,
On maple, hickory, birch, sycamore,
Strumming strings of alluring refrains--
Rhythms waltzing fervid meadows.
A cadent song of winter’s chill
Shuddering vibes of barren trees
Yet, charmingly pretty as can be
When snowflakes gently falling
Invoke tunes of season’s greetings
Crowning tips of ornamental twigs
As hearts’ melodies merrily sing.
February 7, 2020
Placed 1st: Famous poetic lines 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree” by Joyce Kilmer
HM: Strand select H contest by Brian Strand
Without soul nourishment our spirits shall wither and die.
Words are a mere instrument, but can reflect truth to power.
Of our faith within love and understanding—truth begs mercy,
Whilst melting honey-sweet crystals kiss thy soft warm cheeks.
We dream and bathe inside the sun’s most radiant gift of desire.
Cool waters of divine creation lovingly quench this desert fire,
And the haunting spectre of death shall never be an end to us!
Winds of such deep-thoughts softly and sweetly sting at once,
When I show you a mirror-image of what our destiny can be.
Adrift in storms of fervid emotions I give in now to your love.
I see a temple of beauty I once bowed down to under your gaze,
As your red-hot daggers strike deepest cords in this coldest breeze.
Now holding hands sunlight-sparkled with you inside this dream,
This heartfelt satisfaction’s worth more than all the world’s gold!
Riches fall from Heaven now in shining jewels of misted pearls,
Whilst I walk alone in deepest thoughts in my blue suede shoes.
Living-loving inside a sole-soul of dreams—true and unbounded,
I hear songbirds whistle and whisper in such joy by God’s grace.
Our souls may nourish themselves on the eternal power of our love.
With God as our witness—we fear not what death shall bring to us,
For our love and true destiny exist far beyond this mortal world!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – May 15, 2016
(Free Verse)
The chameleon shuddered profusely,
It had never climbed to the top of a sky scraper before,
The melanin refused to scatter,
It could not make up its mind:
To take after the blue of the sky?
Or to be grey...
Every morning it felt the sunshine gold,
Caressing the slippery unevenness
Like the first waterfall down a nascent hill,
Stealthily through promenades,
And shrieking ladies on the way,
It reached the flies' humdrum festival
On a gloomy velvet cynosure of rejection from the other world.
That day, from the branch it saw the reflection of serenity,
And while it slithered through coffee machine conversations,
Geriatric glasses emanating dismay,
Fervid love affairs,
And lonely, revamped furniture
It reached the zenith of monotone,
Yet either of the eyes revolved unheeding cadence.
The journey had been iridescent,
And the Wind was colourless,
So even though it swayed in harmony with Her,
It didn't know what to be...
And it didn't know how to sprinkle white,
If mimicked the sky,
And so it became grey again,
Like on the trees,
And every dawn.
I've waded with you in seaside shallows
'til love led us deeper than surface shoals.
With fervid passion, I've become blind
to everything except the need for you,
emotions rivaling the holiest hallows
inside my heart to make me whole.
We've reached the pinnacle point
of avowing a promise of foreverness.
Too late to swim ashore, for I'm drowning
in the whirlpools swirling in your eyes
beseeching you to love me... forever more.
You are to me ~ a tempting tormentor
whose whispers fondle my neck and face.
Your breath caresses each exotic place
bringing seductive sensations to my spine.
In depths of desire, I flirt with my demons,
and admit the temptation is devilishly divine.
Our shadows dance and secretly swoon,
in melodic waves beneath the moon.
I'm entranced when you call me your angel
and that your heart beats with a burning desire
or you say, "I am your passionate slave."
You see, I've memorized your metaphors,
the ones that deeply delve into my core.
Each time you express your emotions
in sensual lines of prurient poetry,
your words outshine the light of dawn.
Our language of love is not always spoken
through parted lips and fingertips...
More often concealed inside of us.
It's what our amorous hearts
ask our adoring eyes to quietly reveal.
Born in cloak of modesty, life toddles, yet thrives
Musing of blissful eternity in domain of paradise
Befriending and beholding its virtuous design
Facing triumphs and failures of quests worthwhile
From first breath to last it's a long thrilling ride
As love and desires rule trappings of eager minds
And will to acquire wealth demands equal time
While allure of fame ignites latent spark inside
As maturity gains wisdom it begins to ask why
Things that were treasured once, now fail to satisfy
And glitter that charmed then, now burdens eyes
When meaning of life changes as time goes by
And memories then bemoan venues forgone:
Failing to sail the oceans when tides were calm,
Forsaking kiss of love when nights twinkled stars,
Ignoring golden aura when fervid was the dawn
Precious become moments waning to end the game
When tallies are made of words said and unsaid--
Some seek reconciliation, some still burn the flame,
Some that meant so much, no longer mean the same
July 28, 2019
Lilies plush, in coral-pink, titivate tidy yards
Swaying gracefully by manicured green lawns,
Alluring his glance there shadows dance
Where rabbits chase, and squirrels scurry by.
The lady in rocking chair, as always, says: hi,
Cheerfully poised, adoring red-roses rise,
Nonchalant of a poodle agitating on porch
Spotting a raft of ducks slowly, slowly cross.
He floats among clouds, his dreams amplified,
Buzzing amber desires in womb of eventide
Gawking fond musings that blush crystal sky
Lauding opaline aura glinting astral designs.
Ruminating jubilance, elated she’s feeling now
Lounging in thoughts by the pond in a park
As rustling winds imitate eve’s gilded sighs
Where she sits charmed, playfully beguiled,
Greeting him lovingly, garbed in mauve smile,
Caressing impulses that blazing passions vie
When Adele’s lyrics emanate from Love Song
Echoing tunes of romance from a car nearby
Scintillating lambency of love in longing eyes,
As fervid night muses of fairyland rendezvous
Divulging clandestine clues of lush stellar hues,
Riveting gaze, she proclaims: darling, it’s true,
Up high on amorous sky, the moon feels it too.
August 17, 2021
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: On fertile ground
I took umbrage over a comment in a current blog, in part stating that poetry, "... is a battlefield..." No. There should be no gauntlets thrown, no darts hurled, and no negative words hurled as if Poetry Soup is a battlefield. I was motivated to write...
Over and over again, blogs become a wallowing hole
where ugliness brews contempt and always takes a toll
on those who are trying to make a simple observation.
Someone takes offense and that provokes confrontation
by a tadpole who'll be a frog and not Prince Charming.
Ya know... the narcissistic type who think it's alarming
that they're ideas are not accepted by others on the site.
Then, it's "Katie, bar the door" and get ready for a fight!
Pollywogs keep swimming in rippling waters of the Soup,
where they take a dump, but don't think of it as 'Poop.'
Blogs are sandboxes where nasty words become litter.
Catty remarks are made by the arrogant and the bitter.
Not surprising, the same ones cut up with their mocking.
It's the same MO they use when they come a knocking...
knocking on new blog doors and causing a ruckus inside.
That's crossing a line that no one should ever take in stride.
Some abuse blogs, as if they're churches or synagogues.
If any part of Poetry Soup should go, it should be the Blogs.
Not as some redundantly claim, should be poetry contests...
Objected to by rallying sponsors and poets in fervid protests.
Blogs serve as playgrounds but break all schoolyard rules
when some can't stop themselves from acting like fools.
There's fighting and tugs of war... never for a good cause.
Gettin' tough over trivial stuff puts a pinch in their drawers.
For gosh sake, act like adults instead of flakes and nuts.
There's never and excuse for acting like a rattlepated putz.
Inspired by Glenn Hughes song "No StrangerTo Love"
The sparkling dawn lights up
my heart’s ebony horizon,
spreads the sunburst colors of yearning
in the fervent garden,
blooming with my love,
swathes the facsimile of your floral face.
In the valley of my mind,
contoured by desire,
I carve the channel
of longing to reach you.
The fervid cloud of craving
melts in a compelling torrent,
makes my limitless love
a cascading river where I swim.
Suffused with the diffused drizzle
of my love in tarnished twilight,
you disappear out of my sight
beyond the garden of blooming delight.
Your footsteps trample my emotive flower,
its crumbled petals make a wreath
for my broken heart.
I collect the shards of my life,
strewn behind the door I’ve crossed,
with love enfolding the slices of heart.
I want to tell you,
my dusty guitar gently weeps
the tune of my melancholic passion,
I hope it will reach you.
Losing the remains of longing
in the debris of my broken heart,
I saunter with sullen feeling
to the silent shore of sorrow.
My emotions swirl unbound
like the dislodged rolling sand
in the tide of remote time.
On the sighing sea of despair,
made of billion drops of tear,
descends the somber shadow
of the nostalgic night’s slate sky,
split asunder by the cobalt cold flash
of the tormenting thunder,
fading in my memory
in the horizon of oblivion.
I live now only to seek you,
for I walk alone in the wasteland.
You’ll take me to the blooming valley,
my longing will turn into flower for you.
Our future will be tinged by its hue,
my love will evermore embrace the spring time.