Long Flittering Poems
Long Flittering Poems. Below are the most popular long Flittering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flittering poems by poem length and keyword.
Beautiful picturesque soft glowing light
against the darkness, whilst burning shooting
star catapult through the sky in its flight.
Spinning fine idyllic thread flow, moving.
In mine heart, I evoke the narrative
wist of our youth. An inexhaustible
love; now lost in the waning sedative
silence of farewell and exhaustible.
Once devoured by his fathomless green eyes,
crave the dark blond hair full of spiral curls.
Lost to his ebbing wave of silent cries
left breathless like flittering glint of pearls.
Birds hymn lull mine into weightlessness sleep;
whilst echoes always brings you back to keep.
2/22/2020
Poetry Contest: Writing Prompt - Ten Words 2. Love
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
thread, heart, silence, hair, beautiful, dark, green, birds, fathomless, breathless
skies of rainbow blue as ocean moves
girl’s sassy swirls of soft tangled hair,
where pearls would dare clasp its curls
glow in her eyes special gentle blue
waves flow of tear drops buckets full
beautiful mud stain blush cheeks
Oh, such a handful only three feet high
arms full of endless hugs and pretty please
barefooted, dirty, and grass stain knees
while magpie explores the world never to say good-bye
double bubbles scents of lavender berries
pink and blue little ponies warm and cozy PJs
night promise dreams of fairies,
flowering ponds, bunnies, and butterflies
over and over stories whispers lullabies hums
sleep little angel in clouds full of stars
wishes of rainbow bridges to the moon
fairyland castles held by balloons
where little ponies play musical tunes
yesterday’s gardens today and tomorrow
fairies glimmer flittering amongst its blooms
enchanting flavors of snow cones,
bubblegum and cherry plums
unicorns, maidens, and gnomes chuckles
sleep till morning when you rise
to endless hugs and pretty please
explore the world never to say good-bye
2/2/2016
"She loves me, she loves me not”
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Petal by small white petal I ask
of this delicate bloom I now hold in my hand
Yellow face peering up at me as if it wants to answer
in only a way that will make me happy
“She loves me, she loves me not”
But does it know the answer I seek,
for I do want her to love me, like she loves the flowers,
the ocean and sipping tea by twilight music
filling the tree lined silhouettes with melodies of enchantment
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Two more petals fall to the ground,
creating elongated oval patterns about my feet
like ivory snow flakes flittering in the sun
staring up at me with questions of their own
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Maybe I will whisper my desires,
allowing them to flow on the wind,
absorbed by nature, dispersed upon the beauty
in hopes this earthly decoration might understand
“She loves me, she loves me not”
As nature offers her wonders, she too brings them
In perfectly presented symmetrical fashion
for I see there are only four petals remaining,
the count stays even
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Oh poor flower, shedding petals like tears
do they flood your core as they do my heart
fear not my petite friend, for I stand in a field
of your brothers and sisters
“She loves me, she loves me not”
I shall pick another tender bloom
to follow my quest again,
though unlike nature, I have no rules to follow
and I shall begin this time with
“She loves me not, she loves me”
The beguiled butterfly you were the flittering joy
to my dream-drenched enticed eyes,
left an enthralling film of tantalizing touch
on the flower I’d bloomed in my heart’s garden.
As your motif sparkled in the sunburst spectrum,
spontaneous fresco of yearning unveiled in my mind
for transient alluring moments engraved still,
generating the breaking waves of surging passion
on which the pearls of my longing spread
onto the silver beach beneath your eyelids.
You couldn’t perceive they changed into gems of desire,
for you didn’t morph the eyes into prism of ardor.
The latent essence of tender instinct I tried to awake
from the reverie where my love
wandered chasing the mirage in wilderness,
searching for a verdant pasture of fervor
to be owned as a dulcet dew drop,
but an entranced fly I flew fazed into your fire,
turned to ashes, wafted to the horizon of nothingness.
The whirlwind of the turning time
will sweep across your memory meadow,
where you’ll see me rise someday
from the dust of oblivion.
____________________
September 23, 2021
Contest : "O" Contest, New Poems
Sponsor : Constance La France
Sitting in the parking lot
in my truck just wondering
wondering what this day I’ll see
my coworkers and what they’ll be
many today do costumes wear
reflecting what they may not be
hidden desires running free
given liberty on this day
a police woman do I see
as skin tight uniform of bright blue
with the skirt so very short
bright brass buttons call to me
around the corner in the breakroom
wonder woman do I see
with assets so exposed
heart attacks in older men
Minnie mouse does scurry by
big black ears and tail so thin
rushing by down the hall
very quickly lost from sight
a vampire too soon appear
Cape of black but bright red hair
flowing sleeves with fancy cuffs
going to the microwaves
skeleton of glowing green
bones that rattle so fiercely
sitting down food to eat
and I wonder what I will see
candy flows everywhere
chocolate coated everything
endless calories without need
with fond abandoned are consumed
as I sit with pen and write
my Muse is flittering somewhere nearby
ideas thrown upon the breeze
and I wonder what to write
Ordained kaleidoscopic turn of the time wheel,
the vacillating vista of life’s lattice designed
on mindscape mimicking chameleon skin colors
of the wasteland ash or the meadow emerald.
Convergent vision zooming on diffused dreams,
glances at the tapestry of transient ecstasy
on the wings of the flittering butterflies,
brings to focus of fulfillment before they fly away.
On the journey across desolate desert dunes,
or along the glittering garden path in spring,
my mind’s shutter opens in lightning speed,
capturing in collage the snapshots of beauty.
May 16, 2020
Contest : Shutter Speed
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
May 18, 2020
Contest : Double Exposure
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
I sit here on this wide, stone porch,
the farms stretch for many miles,
even on sunny days you can
sit here and drift for a while…
but this is not a day like that,
the far horizon tells the tale,
a billowing of distant gray,
the storm is coming, without fail.
The first slow pickup of wind comes,
scribes rippled patterns in the wheat,
then birds and bugs stop flittering,
and to their nests beat a retreat.
The looming clouds slowly churn on,
air takes a charge, makes the hair prick,
you taste it with every drawn breath,
it makes the oxygen taste thick.
Next comes the first distant rumble,
that you can feel as much as hear,
you see lighting flicker far off,
knowing that soon it will be near,
then comes that sudden burst of cold,
I think I like that most of all,
brings tiny goosebumps to the flesh,
heralds of the oncoming fall.
The winds are moving faster now,
and the tree branches bend and quake,
you know some cannot ride it out,
and in the maelstrom them will break,
hard rain starts coming, picks up quick,
pelting everything that it spies,
now I’m no fan of getting wet,
so I rapidly slip inside.
The thunder is now overhead,
it’s so damn loud the house vibrates,
there’s something in its savagery
that I strangely appreciate;
when it roars like an angry god,
I am reminded that this earth
cannot be beat down or controlled,
all we’ve made is of little worth,
that for all of our great ego,
and our illusions on control,
mere charged air sends us skittering,
and we’re no longer quite so bold…
Of course there’s also the beauty
of nature painting dark and grim,
a short change from the green and blue,
I like watching the storms roll in.
Enchanted by winsome waves of florid fantasy,
the flower of my fervid heart blossomed
when your charm drizzled desire on me
like the amorous mid-summer rapturous rain.
Drenched by the sensuous shower of yearning,
I felt the nectar of love instantly infuse within me.
The flaming patina of my heart’s flower was stoked
by the blithe breeze of spring serenading longing.
The pristine charisma of chromatic fresco flashed
on its fascinated blushing beguiled face,
immersed in reverie weaving lattice of alluring motif
on the wondrous wings of the flittering butterflies.
The wilting petals were desolately dislodged
by the turbulent dust storm of desertion.
The fragmented flower found the dreams in debris,
its scream subsided in the rustle of livid leaves.
The bruised elegance it vainly tried to regain
with the topaz touch of dew diadem at a new dawn.
When you drifted away from my stormy sky,
the tormenting thunder broke my life asunder.
With the broken heart enduring the silent pain,
I heard the flower furtively shriek the wounded sigh,
while for a new sunburst dulcet dawn I waited
for you to return as the pearl of dew on my petals.
1
In wandering life’s ever-changing dynamic landscape,
the paved pathway across the undulating topography
meanders to the nebulous future in time taking turns,
I have to traverse following the footprints of destiny.
The sinking spent sun in the cauldron of my crimson sky
paints the time of the vibrant life passing slowly me by.
The dust-draped horizon spreads uncertainty shroud,
for the ambiguous obscurity conceals the blurred future.
In twilight hour the sky would create a collage of colors,
weave for me the panorama for the penultimate walk.
I’d stand at the signpost of the last mile of my journey,
and wonder what lies at the end of the ordained path.
Many streams I’d remember to have crossed in squall
with budding desires sheltered in heart lest they’d sink,
while the winged dreams drifted away chasing butterflies,
flittering through amorous air in the verdant vale of love.
I’d indifferently count the footsteps of the ultimate trek,
fated to reach the final destination of devouring darkness,
the sighing wind would convey the beginning of the end,
as I’d take the reluctant first step to walk the last mile.
When the flowers open petals in the spring time,
flittering fleet of butterflies makes luring lattice,
the blind doesn’t see the tapestry of heavenly beauty,
but dances with unsighted boundless joy
to the whispering rhythm of the fragrant air.
When people spin in a pattern on the dance floor,
lively with the psychedelic light show,
watch the steps measure the pace of salsa,
in the undefined space of the blind dancer
the invisible floor throbs beneath the intuitive feet,
feeling the concerto of illumined cadence,
as the rhythmic moves pulsate unseen
with each movement of grace made in darkness.
The blind dancer moves instinctively
maneuvered by the strings of sound like a puppet,
living the vibrato of the music with rhythmic reflex.
Following no shadows, watching no applauding crowd
for the sightless hearing transforms the visual prompts
into dance gestures, the real rendition
of the articulate feelings
flowing elegantly in the empty dark space.