Long Flotilla Poems
Long Flotilla Poems. Below are the most popular long Flotilla by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flotilla poems by poem length and keyword.
Charcoal cloud melts in the scorched sky,
summer drizzle descends serenading
with the fascinating flotilla in arid air.
The spectrum of the setting scarlet sun
sparkles in the slant splash of the raindrops,
soaking the singed malachite meadow,
pristine petrichor exudes in amber ambiance.
In the moistened crack of the desiccated soil
sprouts an olivine sapling after a long while,
spreads the tender emerald leaves,
cradling the unfurling buds,
swaying in breeze with the radiant raindrops,
turning into pearls, reflecting the rainbow hues.
The raindrops cascade in soft musical torrent
on the misty pane of my dripping window,
bring back the nostalgic joy of the lost youth
to morph into meandering rows
in the ballet of the waltzing rills.
I hear the silent symphony of melodic youth
in the rhythm of the raindrop dance.
Spring serenades to the cadence of the crisp air
I hear the melodic whisper of the southern wind
The sinking sun sets the sedate skyline on fire
Flotilla of cloud leaves trail of colored wisps behind.
Morning mist lifts from the pearly pasture of dew
Bent blades of jade grass glitter by crystalline touch
Spotless lucent sky paints the satin canvas in blue
Gossamer leaves sprout while barren boughs watch.
Bursting buds unfurl the flushing fresco of flower
Weaving lattice of grandeur on mesmeric meadow
Fluorescent butterflies flitter in sunburst shower
Vista of beguiling beauty framed on my window.
When from nowhere gloomy clouds tend to veer
From treasure trove of nature I pick gems of cheer.
Date receiving N-A : April 4, 2020
Contest : A Cheerful Rhyme
January 13, 2021
Contest : Best N-A poem Of 2020
Sponsor : John Hamilton
Mars the fourth planet from the Sun and named after the God of War,
The first close-up was in 1996 and since then a flotilla of orbiters;
Fly-bys, landers, and rovers have been looking for existence of life,
Always, is there water on Mars and could humans exist there?
A continual chain of explorations, finding new discoveries like polar ice,
Drifting clouds in its atmosphere, seasonal patterns, and volcanoes,
The size of Arizona, canyons, prove of flooding, proof it is rocky and cold,
But what seems beautiful to me is the hazy pink sky above.
Is Mars habitable? The Curiosity Mars Science Laboratory Rover,
Is on a bold exploration of discovery of science for technology;
To find answers, did you know you could send a postcard from Mars?
The future holds promise with the launch in 2020 of a robot.
A robotic science rover seeking out life, all part of the Mars Exploration,
And why 2020 you ask? Well that is when the Earth and Mars;
Are in the most advantageous positions of orbit. Will they find life?
For me, even if they do, will I want to leave beautiful Earth?
Will I want to live on a cold rocky planet with volcanoes erupting,
With no forests or rivers and streams, no flowers or cities?
But perhaps in time we will have no option as the Earth is failing,
And there is something about that hazy pink sky that beckons.
___________________________
May 7, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Life - Perhaps
Copyright Protected, ID 16-787-509-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Lemon tinted phase
gilded skyline blown
by ethereal fused mist
eager bard imbued
opal dream flotilla
beyond tarnish while
flash point chariots
of gleam-well canvass
astir or astern perforce
taunt a hued vase
porcelain image fest
for staunch earthbound
soul’s cry parched
stricken migrant famish
sapphire plume ray
bounty veridical
pink chalk sketch
granule blush pots
pearl beam spur
to jumpy pilgrim
grey elephant garb
drifter’s lull prone
metre of skewed
and barren glib
dull tossed aside
rambles and brambles
from cerebral quartz
beige quirky quill
nose twitch petrichor
glacé smelt rain
lava veined fillip
fervent fetal floe
ignited indigo inkling
as noonday nuanced
glance en dash
away from orange
peel cloud skies
toward spring rush
urban junction fare
as founding cue
for zeitgeist driven
western world eden
brick red hydrants
fricative wet spray
dousing hoarse busker
charged by crazy
pavement stamp
stoic poet in situ
tumult, hubbub,
rumpus heightened
by brazen banter
silver coin wobble
on carrageen rim
of oyster pebbled
pool a mecca
for stanza stymied
lingerer who scouts
eclectic threshold
born of cumbersome
blight on ingenuity
The flotilla of the climbing clouds slowly floats away,
embracing the azure of the end-summer’s ashen sky.
The beguiled birds bathe in the glint of the blue bay,
in the twilight gleam to their amber nest they all fly,
as I arrive with cauldron of crystal ambiance on the sly.
The transparent threshold of the halcyon horizon drawn,
splits the spreading sunbeam into spectrum of radiant ray,
the sparkling hues spilling from its palette paint the dawn.
The bowed down slender blades of the fawn grass sway
in my rippling air on the lap of the meadow turning gray.
I adorn the pasture with ornate crown of shining topaz dew,
flickering with the finesse of the dawn’s chalcedony glow.
Lining the sun-burnt cinnabar garden path paved anew,
I make the dry trunks of sepia trees stand on the soil fallow,
hear in the rustle of golden leaves my rhapsodic footfall slow.
As the setting sun sets fire at the fringe of the serene sky,
making surreal celestial collage of vermillion ember bright,
under its crimson radiance I gleam raising your spirit high
to show the stars sprout in the satin sky of my pellucid night,
in the drizzle of silver dust I suffuse you with aura of delight.
When the last wind of winter passes me by,
I look out through my open window to see
flotilla of ivory cloud sails in the indigo sky.
The days of March bring sparkling spring as my
most favorite time of the year, enthralling me,
when the last wind of winter passes me by.
From yonder hazy horizon as they rise, I try
to perceive in my mesmeric mind with glee,
flotilla of ivory cloud sails in the indigo sky.
I hear the music of the rustling leaves dry,
entwined with the tune of the humming bee,
when the last wind of winter passes me by.
The colors of spring waft on wings of butterfly,
that’s the enchanting time when beguiled I see
flotilla of ivory cloud sails in the indigo sky.
In ecstatic ambiance of spring my spirit soars high,
from the clutch of gloomy chill I set myself free,
when the last wind of winter passes me by,
flotilla of ivory cloud sails in the indigo sky.
___________________
April 11, 2022
Contest : Springtime Villanelle
Sponsored by : Sotto Poet
The gorgeous garden rhapsodic,
absorbs the aura of spring in the air,
I hear the whisper so melodic
of the serenading southern wind.
The blazing sarlet sun sets
fire on the skyline reclined,
the floating flotilla of cloud leaves
the trail of colored wisps behind.
Suffused with draping sunshine silken,
the garden adorns crown of pearly dew,
the bent blades of emerald grass glisten
with crystalline charisma within its clutch.
The spotless lucent sky of luminescence
shines with seraphic shades of turquoise touch,
the gossamer leaves sprout anew,
while the beguiled boughs watch.
The bursting buds bloosom slow
the flushing fresco of flowers,
in the mesmeric garden meadow
they weave the lattice of colors.
As the fluorescent butterflies flitter
through the hewed sunray’s glow,
the vista of beguiling beauty of joy
I find framed on my window.
___________________
March 14, 2022
Contest : Garden Inspirations
Sponsored by : BJ Legros Kelley
For Brian Strand 's Your Option Again Contest
There is an urge within me to wander randomly,
to explore in vivid detail each kaleidoscope,
incidental hue or pristine colour I encounter,
or just as likely that tantalising shady patch,
with its dreamlike mystical allure so faraway,
this blue pigment dawn whisper as tempting spur on,
that hidden orange-red sunlit prompt I can’t curb despite myself,
I follow blindly without oppugning brier cloak
pitfalls,
yet noonday mishap neither blight nor wanton cross,
and I glad to extol such plus point impact,
as other fellow venturers might script a manifold offshoot,
but from sound and sentient slant,
I can recant galvanic episodes,
of uproarious elation emanating from a golden grained beach,
where energetic offspring unleash their zeal,
adjacent to labyrinthine thriving townscapes,
ancient river, the stuff of verse and bard,
parallels its salted surging ripple,
with its indigo bold rush beneath a stoic wharf.
to capture lush spots
with the pourboire of bright eye
as timeless haven
Yet late phase hours settings have cachet,
in tandem with the peep of day burst,
as I reveal a harvest swept ashore,
flotilla at a dock and day boundary,
so nocturnal bliss enraptured round each plinth,
and plethora of unearthly steps,
where haunted hair-raising halo splash,
adding lustrous night fly element,
beside the raucous alleyway caper,
inchoate, invisible, intriguing inlay,
shards of boisterous daring impishness,
cast at my intrepid atman,
enigmatic echoes chase skinflint shadows,
whoosh of splintered black ice,
under swerving car manoeuvre,
street lanterns wide arc madrigal,
banisher of eerie indigo silence
earth atmosphere shall
watch bemused as moonlight orb
peers at globe beneath
The blue hills rolled down embracing
the verdant slopes in rhythmic dance,
to the cradle of the humming hamlet
where my childhood home was once.
With formless flotilla of cloud clumps,
floating free in seamless cerulean sky,
my teenage exuberance soared high
with the colorful kites I loved to fly.
The cascading brook of aqua pearls,
flowed down in flamboyant grandeur,
girdling our house in a latticed loop
of horse-shoe contoured meander.
My rainbow tinged paper boats glided
on the curling current’s rippling trail,
on these to distant shore of dreamland
I felt entranced my fervent fantasy sail.
When the storm surged from nowhere,
the kites flew away, and the boats sank,
an uprooted tree, I turned to driftwood,
the boats I search for, stuck at river bank.
Written : August 7, 2020
June 21, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ always knows the way she ought to go
There’s no-one left alive aboard to haul her rigging so
Her crew and Cap’n flounder on the seabed far below
But the ‘Satan’s Daughter’ sails on for she knows which way to go
The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ sets her sails in fear of no tempest
Of all the fears of sailor men it’s fog she likes the best
Though never has a lookout seen her quickly turn about -
To head into a fog; but some have seen her coming out
Only one of these survived to rave about the day
The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ thundered from the eerie, misty grey
The Captain of the ‘Godspeed’ knew he had to save his neck
When an albatross fell from the sky and crashed down on the deck
He raved about a spectacle, he raved about a tentacle
He tossed his log into the sea encased in a receptacle
So when they said, ‘Survived’, perhaps they might have stretched the truth
For when the ‘Godspeed’ sank his log was all we had for proof
The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ sails on unmolested as she goes
Unperturbed that somewhere there’s a flotilla that grows
Moving on, they had a face off midst the arctic ice
She watched those ships all go down in not much more than a trice
But what might be the spectacle and what could be the tentacle
Can a sailing ship ever be quite so reprehensible
The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ came and went and soon we’d understand
As one tentacle… and then another… crept upon our land