Long First blush Poems
Long First blush Poems. Below are the most popular long First blush by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long First blush poems by poem length and keyword.
Im half awake, and glaring at the sunrise
distant brilliance slowly eating at my dry eyes
squinted to best witness the aureate Apollo
refract off blades soaked through with dew
heaven's first blush, midsummer quiet, and coffee scent
cast clarity, light unveiling the burden
weighing down on every living being
clearest with the coming of the day
burning black holes into my brain's blank slate
sundering my soul 'till shatter state
fast approaches on the infinity of empty space
veiled out ahead of me
Restless with the lethargy of baring witness
I stir the pit, and catch flames leap up
from within carbon prints of gray matter
quelled embers lay suffocating beneath
ash dunes and smoldering phoenix feathers
matted and clumped by filmy deliquescence
spent of all but their will to rise again.
I grasp at the green broken glass
strewn about my feet like seeds
planted by last night's ignorance
and the sin of forced forgetting that
we all someday pay recompense
for our vice's and the gluttonous
way we all practice immoderation.
The world is quiet in lull
humanity lost to an illusion
breathing soft
and sleeping soundly
altogether
We exist
to want and rub against
the way the world turns on
a crooked axis, each moment less lucid
than those sunspots and dewdrops
coursing through dirt-clay veins and
branding the cracked dirt with morning
I cant shake loose the afterimage
imprinted on my blunted senses
experiencing everything I reach
is less than whole
understanding the universe
exists as fragments blackened in spite
of time's one plight forever pulling it apart
The sunset split the sky,
the fire danced and spit,
and the condensation clotted.
I seized eternity that morning
amidst the doldrums of sleeping masses
its truth intimate and calming.
I sense slumber cease and the suburbs rustle
the dreamers stumble about in waking
to shower away their sweat and dreamt delusion
start their cars, and drive away in sync
I listen closely to their heavy sighs
the shift of sagging shoulder plates,
bent under with Atlas tugging at the reins
kind's struggle never ceases to
echo off of terra firma, quaking
with each clanking of the chains
that bind our beating hearts to
alarm clocks, freeways, work weeks
and the torment of monotony
Form:
(unsettled conscience beckons expunging)
Upon espying aesthetically pleasing lass
(considerably younger than me),
middle aged ma'am, or classy older woman
impetuousness overtakes rationality
courting acquaintanceship constituting
aforementioned type female
these premature ejaculations
blindside yours truly
upon comfort level
of unfamiliar lady recipient,
(especially years gone by
with then young daughters in tow)
oft times lacked conscientious wherewithal,
how embarrassing offspring felt
at their buffoon papa appearing,
intimating, kickstarting... rapport
at first blush evincing politesse,
yet keen eldest progeny
adept to discern in apropos overture,
despite being well mannered
couched foray, an unconscious insinuation
discerned, hinted, leveraged...
unspoken ulterior motive,
yet honest to dog overt blurting
complement toward veritable stranger
essentially, intrepidly, overtly...
stated genuine pleasantry
attempting to recoup losses
from utterly abysmal
socially withdrawn adolescence
could easily be interpreted
as sexual innuendo
(particularly witnessed by
acutely perceptive first born),
whose reverence, asper in this dada
plummeted, especially cuz
similar instances occurred,
where ambiguity
to formulate unfavorable conclusion
tacked on her growing
list of gripes against dada
loosely analogous to Martin Luther,
whereby his “95 Theses,”
which propounded two central beliefs -
the Bible and central religious authority -
humans may reach salvation only
by their faith and not by their deeds -
was to spark Protestant Reformation,
which essentially kindled
figurative fuel to the fire
incrementally cleaving paternal dotage
undesirable, no matter Pedophilia
never goaded what in mine mind
amounted proving daring do,
since suppressed infatuations
decades past, this then
extremely reclusive knew
nothing about powder milk biscuits
to give shy people the strength
they need to get up and
do what needs to be done.
Thus, an apologia without exception,
whether or not these words seen to deux
darling daughters, plus
other gals who experienced discomfort
at innocuous attempt
to get linkedin with
whirling wide webbing of women.
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
At dawn's first blush,
milkweed pods,
burst with a sigh,
A feathery shower of,
silk sending secrets...
on the wind's soft cry.
Yesterday they wore a crown of pink
Today they are set free;
like dandelion dreams floating on the vast sea
a thousand wishes taking flight.
I see you spinning gracefully
on dandelion fluff.
each strand like a
glowing thread
forming a halo.
Your laughter flows like
a babbling
brook over stones.
while your tears resemble mist
clinging to ferns in
the whisping breeze.
As twilight falls and fireflies twinkle
like scattered stars,
a new constellation is born.—
a flickering dance in the dimming light
as transient, as a summer evening.
In your eyes wild irises bloom
reflecting the evening sky as
they search for their fragrance.
Amidst meadowlarks songs
welcoming the dawn in morn.
my heart remains intertwined
with yours like a nurturing vine
that delves into the soil
forever connected to you.
You write the poetry of life
moments full of freedom.
Like a ballet of butterflies
a child experiencing wonder,
both wild and free.
No need,
for preaching!
just the melody of the wind
whispering through
the pine trees.
A communication,
a connection that binds eternally.
With patience engraved
in the face of mountains
I stand as a protector.
a sanctuary in this forests
intricate beauty.
While shadows dance in a transient
vanishing performance
My love stands firm like
a redwood sentinel enduring
all challenges.
In the settling of dusk,
where fireflies sparkle,
My presence is like a meadow
where bluebirds dream.
For you,
my child,
are a hawk,
on the wind's caress.
Soaring on thermals,
a spirit,
etched upon your face.
My heart,
a beacon's steady fire,
guiding,
through the unknown,
In this life's,
choreography,
bathed in your,
boundless exploration.
Mother
Sheltering, strong
Branches rustle tales
Roots grip the earth deep
Child
Written February 05, 2025
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the depths of my soul,
a well bursts forth,
a reservoir of ancient echoes
and cosmic whispers.
Love transcends borders and time,
sycamore and lotus were entwined
while nightingales serenade the valley
song rituals in moonstone rhyme.
a tapestry of timeworn tunes and cosmic lore.
Her face graces the dark sky, as a moonstone,
long-forgotten vows shimmer in the ether.
Twin fires ignite in galaxies afar beyond,
dragon fire etched our love's sublime zodiac
when prophecy's sword stalks the earth
Our love is a constellation,
forged in the fiery breath of dragons.
The world teeters on the brink
of prophecy's keen edge,
Bound by threads of light
and shadow intertwined.
As I gaze upon the stars,
her silhouette dances.
Woven by light-shadow threads.
she sways as she peers at the orbs,
veiled in drifts of sandalwood and mist
feeling the depth of our bond,
as I softly exhale your name.
Shadows entwined in swirling tornadoes,
bittersweet butterfly kisses linger,
soft lips meet, sending warmth.
Cascading across the skin,
a kismet-proof, mystical fetter.
Cloaked in veils of mist
and warm jasmine scent,
absence transforms into a cavern
filled with nightingale songs,
Echoing through valleys
gently kissed by dawn’s first light
and even within the katabatic abyss,
hope's feather caresses,
Whispering tales of eternity
beneath emerald skies.
Her hollow heart remains an enigma.
Laden with the sweet melodies of doves.
cooing tenderness across valleys.
Kissed by the first blush of dawn.
Shivers dance down her spine.
And even in the pervasive silence,
hope heavenly feather flutters,
whimsical whispers of timeless stories
beneath brilliant, blooming blue,
Over emerald embers, we soar.
Her face was filled with a soft lavender scent.
Despite her passing, her love persists,
through hope-filled caverns,
silver cloud embraces us in light.
We shared our hearts beyond glass urns
Bumping against the seraphic layout of stars,
as a kiss that transcends time itself.
Volition, orientation familiarization aahing
and oohing within restrictive paradigm molding
inviolable honorable gentility -
flagrantly, desirously, clearly boyz abandoning
willfully skirting, panting (heavily)
forfeiting abominably, (no Joe King) abiding
chomping at bit, damning delineated, or obscure
parameters, between one acceding
Earthlinked selfish living
psychosexual pining human bing,
and another ardently avowedly ambitious
altruistic agent provocateur (lol)
at first blush hinting Moulin Rouge adulation
under dim (witted) lighting accenting
individual randy salient
traits savoring tête-à-tête
tasty hors d'oeuvres accentuating
nuances highlighting flirtatious countenance
initially unconditionally stubbornly accepting
dire hormonal straits
as prickly fledgling acquaintanceship
quivers, negotiates, kickstarts abolishing
inchoate biochemical protracted coupling
conveniently interpreting accessing
breeching, catapulting Dickensian estuary,
non verbal communication nsync abridging
painstakingly erecting complex edifice
suavely, urbanely, wittily accessorising
tried and truevalue tricks acclaiming
debonair heroic manliness princely
qualities dutifully dominate directing
demure damsel in distress absconding
convincing, foreplaying, jimmying,
rollicking readily acclimatizing
challenges thrust up gracefully parlaying
most savvy serious similarly sophisticated
totally tubular testosterone tactics
versatile repartee accomplishing
dynamics cultivating atavistic romantic ballet
on duh poe whit tick abutting
metaphorical foot accoutering
trappings adorned since mythological
Adam and Eve accrediting
latter, sans virile unavoidable temptation
savoir faire verboten fruit, accelerating
action whereby unsuspecting, slithering,
lurking serpent teen accounting
rattle unheard by apse cent church fathers
subsequently excoriating, condemning, accusing,
nonetheless indomitable transcendence achieving
pinnacle of prostrate poignancy
inexpressible ecstasy acquiescing
nonpareil acquisition adulation activating
ascendence assaying administering
amorousness activating. aching.
Alternately titled: Get out of my head mister chatterbox!
While inside me noggin legions
of monstrous demons abhor
protest being force fed
arcane and obscure
assaying into religious dogma
hence mind chatter goes full bore
thus crafting poem quite a difficult chore,
one lightweight bag of bones
basketcase weave gotta deplore,
nevertheless mine tincup rattled
courtesy garden variety eyesore
athwart slip stream
of space/time continuum
twenty two minus
seven years and fourscore
orbitz around black hole sun
scattering cremains galore
camouflage ashes colored like hoar.
Upon prima facie first blush
me mind's eye all atwitter,
sans long forgotten
"FAKE" sexual exploits
set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter,
boot like short order cook I hapt tubby
quickly realized trumpeting collusion,
a near fatal collision course
with Matthew Scott's antimatter
caw zing friggin insomnia
finding ma noggin scrambled
likesome lithesome cockamamie critter
whipped into frenzy
like battered butter
holy grits, alm manned in fight of ma life
cause I haint acquitter
baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling
hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter,
this raging red bull inside me mind,
now body wheeling wickety wack,
lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter
bitta asthma - insides
got balled into wah racket
like quietly rioting unfetter
herd plain tennis (see) hens,
gone south tub bespatter
ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky
reducing gray matter,
and all flesh sundered
into meaty platter
to pulverized, irradiated,
cremated... faux fluffernutter batter
analogous tummy Aunt
Jemima's famous flapjacks,
she fantastically fashioned better
than Betty Crocker
tossing spatulated glommed
gook suitable as bonesetter
high as the Taj Mahal,
while she merrily jabbered,
her native patois singsong blatter
all this inaudible clatter
muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter
madly clangorous dinner cowbells
aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter
ring jitterbugging fantasies
of barenaked ladies doth splutter
as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry
like cocky rooster that did stutter!
"No One's Betrayed Me Like You!"
At first blush, one might feel this 'curse' meant to condemn
but I beg you, take courage and listen with Soul,
for it isn't said often (though million times thought),
but with love wrapped in rhyme here, I say it to you!
The day Dad, deep in pain, spoke these words (and I heard)
there was no one else with us in car to deflect,
reinforce, sense of shame I feel sure we both felt
at the choice I had made to move him from his home
(from the woman he loved, the nice house that they shared).
In my heart, I suspect I was truer to him
than I was to my mom, to bless one more, not goal
(but deal fairly with both). My Dad's businesses bought
at such price, they had souls of their own (in his view?)
He put business needs over his home's care (absurd
on the face of it). Let your home burn to protect
crops that grow? Not a choice I would make, but Dad dwelt
with wife's tears and kid's fears, his own Stockholm syndrome,
was not hip to estrangement, grok closeness impaired.
When we try to be fair, though, we're mostly not fair!
To be fair takes no effort; you are, or you're not.
In real service to self, you are kindest to all;
the world knows that you sin! It sees that clear as day
and births strategies meant to help soften your crimes.
You confuse folks by trying to show us new side;
your friends know truth's obscured, if not what. That's the truth!
To be fair's just your 'truth,' you aren't known for your facts!
Do the world a great kindness and learn to relax!
You're mistaken if you think that I 'want in your slacks,'
if you live life extremely, I'll dote on your tracts,
if you're high or you're low means I'll find you uncouth,
that a tip of my hat means that you now have a ride!
It's the truth that most find these quite challenging times.
I think poems more pleasant than rolls in the hay,
and I don't need baths after or fear someone's call!
Let me live with betrayals like found Camelot,
for both lift me to heights where souls find sweet repair!
Brian Johnston
28th of January in 2021
Once, I sang without thinking—
notes spilling like sunlight
through trembling leaves,
a language woven from breath and wind,
a melody that painted the endless sky,
dancing on the morning breeze,
weaving stories of hope and light.
My voice was free,
each note a flickering flame,
threading the world together
from dawn’s first blush
to twilight’s soft sigh,
lifting hearts and stirring dreams
with the simple gift of song.
But then silence came—
quiet as falling feathers,
heavy as the weight of absence,
and my song slipped away,
lost in shadows deeper than night,
a voice swallowed whole by the void,
leaving hollow spaces where music lived.
I searched the empty air,
reaching for scattered notes,
trying to gather the melody
that once filled mornings with hope,
but silence held me captive,
an invisible cage made of absence,
where sound dissolved like mist at dawn,
and echoes faded before they could be heard.
Days passed like restless wings
beating against unseen glass,
and I became still,
listening not for my voice,
but for the pulse beneath the quiet—
the soft rustle of life awakening,
the gentle glow of dawn’s early light,
the fragile hope that a song
might one day be born anew.
Sometimes, when the wind shifts just right,
I catch the echo of a forgotten note—
soft, fragile, like a long-lost sigh,
calling me back to the place
where music waits beneath loss,
and silence is only a pause
between the beats of a hidden heart.
Even in silence,
there is rhythm—
a heartbeat beneath stillness,
waiting patiently
for its voice to return,
for wings to spread wide
and songs to soar once more.
One day, my song will rise again—
soft at first,
a trembling note born of longing,
growing stronger,
spreading wings of sound
across the empty sky,
filling the world
with melodies I thought lost forever,
a chorus of hope reborn from quiet.
Until then, I remain—
a bird with quiet wings,
carrying the memory of music in my bones,
and the promise that silence
is never the end,
only the breath before a new beginning.
The Mermaid Songs
Once upon a time, as school was coming to it’s yearly close.
We’d read about mermaids and their songs of Golden prose.
Now, the witch was over visiting and heard everybody’s sighs.
They so, wanted to sing with mermaids, and thru the waters glide.
Dragon was the worst, as he grabbed my mop top to become his hair.
Then he flew out to the lake dock, and began calling those ladies fair.
I began thinking how sad, if my Dragon never did meet this ladylove.
The witch, tears upon her face, then brought that, which he dreamt of.
It seems, while on her yearly travels, our witch once met a lovely mere.
Who was fascinated with the tales of Dragon, and the antics he did stir.
Suddenly, they were there together, a wish granted on a witch’s whim.
Dragon became so very quiet, as a first blush of shyness, ran over him.
The mermaid laughed and giggled as she took the mop from off, his head.
Then she sang a soulful song as she began to touch his wings and said...
Where I come from you’re a legend, a story of days, from, long, gone bye.
To this he just smiled. Yes, our Dragon had turned smitten, and so very shy.
It lasted only a moment; until she asked him, to please, take her to the sky.
Two dreams became one as they traveled the skies, and then the water nigh.
She also, met Dragons penguins, the first she had ever been able to meet.
Them from cold, and she from hot…now in the middle all were complete.
Suddenly the mermaid had the idea, to bring in more of her mere folk.
What? You thought they only sat, singing and giving their hair a stroke?
We invited the neighboring swim teams, accapella groups, and families.
And don’t forget the Glee Clubs, plus the Barber Shop Quartets, you see.
Actually, everybody came to do, even barbecues for Dragon and his guests.
Once a week all summer, the fun continued, but never the same, not once.
It was a summer to be made into legends, for all our days and those beyond.
And each time, we honored the witch, who’d let us learn the Mermaids songs.
aye savor the faire genetic blueprint
extant unique to each of us
with this quite alimentary aire
including (that almighty,
bottom, cushiony, dimpled,
excretory functioning Gluteus Maximus
i.e. the tushy when bare
with subtle difference sans,
both halves at first blush,
but tucks upon closer scrutiny
obvious inexactness crystal clear
as a bell jar, asper each body electric,
whence deserved of en dear
ments despite however much junk in the trunk
behind the private
no trespassing (non verbalized)
signs posted everywhere
off limits only to a select few like this bard
attired as if from the Renaissance Faire
whose unconditional acceptance
unlike the majority hoo gawk and glare
if bipedal hominid dealt
chromosomal traits say with excessive hair
which mane of tangled strands,
could be problematic and interfere
with coaxing, finagling,
or inducing friendship with an initial jeer
from him or her averse
toward such imperfection to boot
huff lawed physical human specimen
such as this ole coot
(who haint really that old),
can upon command execute
a feigned display
and appealing as fresh field picked fruit
at this stage of ma life
donut give a rats ass, nor an owlish hoot
what other may decry about me,
cuz self acceptance doth agree
buzzing with greater confidence, esteem,
and general weaknesses such
as lack of physiognomy incongruent cee,
which asymmetry of this primate feel free
er than his pre/post pubescent
corporeal essence he
near put himself in the hand
of that grim reaper, a key
poor of lifeless beings,
and well nigh got hold da mee
when in the throes up
(vis a vis not bulimia) on Swiss side prithee
and as a solitary mwm gives no re
guard no matter others may find fault
in the stars at my lack of sim mutt tree
gnome hatter judgements made
I accept mice elf warts and all – yippee!