Long Flower Poems
Long Flower Poems. Below are the most popular long Flower by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flower poems by poem length and keyword.
Run across the fair fields, as fast as you can run, the fields your grandmother ran as a young girl,
Over long lush dark green grasses, whipping your knees, soft spongy turf springs each new step,
To stop where fast flowing streams rush and dance to the wind, a sweat breaking out on your face,
All out of breath kneeling by the bank of a brook, a stitch in your side, corn waves like a gentle sea.
By the brook with childhood friends enjoying sweet company watching spring as her beauty unfolds,
To walk across wet water mead’s, seeing glades in their finest clothes, to a meadow, in full flower,
Rolling in grass making camps sitting legs crossed as warm summer breezes temper-sweating brows,
Making sure you sit next to the one you care for most, nothing will be as good as this day ever again.
Playing in the meadows where your grandmother played, picking daisies, making very long chains,
Holding buttercups up to chins to see if they shine, then laughing, shouting out loud when they do.
Playing kiss chase, slightly slowing down, when the one you want to be kissed by is chasing you,
Under old pear blossom trees, flushed rosy red cheeks sitting next the one who is your first love.
Laying in high grass chin in cupped hands, it is so special this lovely day will be yours for all time,
Just staring at friends, full of innocence and so happy, this romantic time can never be repeated,
Unplanned moments where beautiful things just happen it’s your youth just enjoy the here and now,
Where everything is brighter has more colour, smells from the meadows become a memory for life.
Laying on your back staring at turquoise watery skies, listening to the silence, a perfect sunny day,
Heaths meeting small woods surrounded by greenest carpets only seen by a child’s pure innocence,
Give your heart and soul to this day enjoy natures gifts, your end of days will recall these moments,
Falling asleep in the December of your life, this last dream your friends will be there waiting for you.
So gather these thoughts, tie them up in a bow, put them safely in a corner of yesterday’s thoughts,
And walk again with your dear young friends in those happy times golden hair fluttering in the breeze,
Back to days of cotton dresses and turned-up jeans with baggy shirts, nobody noticed or even cared,
Hold your sweethearts hand once again and run across the fair fields where your grandmother ran.
I am a butterfly that loves to sing, every note and word I do fling, to rhythm I do cling, music by the flowers has a beat and ring, the ladybugs threw kisses with love.
Big Green likes to join in, his deep frog voice comes with a big grin, our sounds will make you spin, we like to play outside of the inn, they say our voices fit like a glove.
Rose is a backup voice, then there is sweet pea Joyce, take both and do not make a choice, with the four of us we can now rejoice, is this called garden music~kind of.
We play and sing all night long, the flowers like to sing along, everyone likes to hear tweet~tweet from the birdsong, some of the music can get real strong, in the end it sounds like from heaven above.
Date Written: 4/8/2022
9 Place
aaaaf, bbbbf, ccccf, ddddf, eeeef
Tall Tales 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser
This is being newly dedicated to my Aunt Jane who reminded me to keep shining God’s light brightly.
THE GLITTER OF LIFE
A tiny sparkle of hope
Hidden within the gloom
We only see muddy water
Occupying all of our room
There is a pretty flower
Beneath those tall weeds
Buried far out of sight
We look not that deep
We seek bad news
So eagerly caught
We forget good news
Should be what is sought
Let us take a quick peek
Of the descriptionalization
It is what life is all about
To reach full realization
The hovering dark cloud
Brings depression and woe
Feeling trapped in sadness
Pulling with an evil tow
You become a hard rock
Or it seems like one of them
Now the trials before you only
Sand and polish you to a gem
Your eye catches a twinkle
To tap your vision per say
It travels far within to spark
Happy thoughts your way
Those clouds of gloom
Cover up the shiny light
The glitter inside of you
That wants to shine bright
All those weeds can hide you
Even from your very own face
So it is time to pull those weeds
To clear the area of your space
A crushed spirit as written
Will only dry up the bones
Whereas is your joyful heart
A good medicine to own
Our strength is from within
The joy of the Lord in each one
Our individual glitter of life
To shine with strong emotion
When you do shine your light
To see your pathway grounds
The glitter of life will be seen
That most abundantly surrounds
There will be a glow of beauty
Like nature covered in sequins
The flowers bursting through
Even the tallest weeds of grim
You will see the difference
You will finally get the hint
Even if you only shine a bit
With a brief flashing glint
To shine your light is simple
Though it seems hard to do
Hum a merry tune, or whistle
Even a smile changes attitudes
Clear the air with a breeze of hope
Thus letting the light inside glisten
A new wind of change on a good note
Chiming a beautiful tune – just listen
Lean not on our own understandings
To form opinions of what appears to seem
It is the faith within that holds the victory
To overcome the world and conquer our dreams
We are all sprinkles of the glitter of life
Scattered through dark clouds of gloom
Fighting our way through evil and such
Brightening the path for happiness to bloom
Florence McMillian (Flo)
The elegant thoughts of a precious mind the computational formula of a wicked demise.
Conceptual seires of theories a conspiracy to seduce persuasive succulent poetry.
Wicked mistress of promiscuous thoughts succulent dreams aromas of fresh gratuities a blurring of mixtures to blended abstracts.
Funnels draining the gravity of intellectual force to persuade a complete set of cycling ways to convey. The Amoure of flashing movies pictured all in the thought whispering speeds of domesticating breeds many ways a heart bleeds. Bundles of delightful Joys the taste of blissful, many ways eye's see to conceive the thought.
The almonds of joy roasted to enjoy conceptual way of a thinking blinking fast ways of thoughts. Orchestra's of notes orchestrated instruments of Beethoven's musical symphonies. Genie in a bottle unleashing the mysterious, unveiling imaginative ways of cultivating the seeded flower to bloom.
Enduring the elegants of an elite Romance rhythm of a Romans aroma's to inhale changing the taste of eloquence.
The artist works mending fears transducing hours to love live love with the sweat of fears8.
Rome's architectural wonder the protects precise sculpture of a wordsmiths glamour. Struts the catwalk with a book 2 premiere, lives on set, broadcasting his heart to revere.
Prince's of prancnig dressing rooms, Broadway St of dramatic dramas, elterically shocking emotions paints new moon phases, mixture of Picasso's colors a dramatization of pain seats the audience.
Photographer of a pictured humanity, colors rainbows of negativity with brilliant prisms.
A King to lion's spiritual pride brilliance of a star, rearrange the theater's of studed premieres, lives with sentiments of love's lifetime unconditionally the greatest of philosophy.
Unique elegance of sun setting romance blinding the artist of a premiering wedding, preaching the marriage of universal energy.
Rays of hope displaying poetry of wholehearted hearted beauty.
The statue of persuasive values premiering spiritually harmonies the elegance of mankind.. Energies of unleashed imaginations dreaming of pots of gold, loving the insecurities of the worlds diversity walks the testimony of £ove.
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Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
?#poet #poetry #poem ?
"THE BIRD CANNOT FLY"
No matter how hard he flaps his wings body won’t lift,
is it obesity or small wings?
He shouldn’t devour the food mother
fed him but do some exercise for flying,
worse yet,
he pecked on and bit siblings
in order to snatch all the food
the mother brought back causing them all to die;
his gluttonous appetite and cruel treatment made
him incapable of lifting his body in the air;
if a bird cannot fly, he is not a bird anymore
then, where to go and what to become to fly in the air.
"THE BIRD LOST SONG"
Although he had a beautiful voice
he drank sweet wines to have a more beautiful voice,
he smoked marijuana to have a more voluminous voice;
blinded by brilliant stage lights and fancy spots,
intoxicated from the shouts of fans, he ruined himself
in the tremendous popularity,
his fame made him arrogant, he fell into narcissism,
he jumped up and down on the stage and soared in the air
to tear down the floodlights hanging from the ceiling,
foolish enough to think that his feathers are brighter
more luminous than the floodlights; flapping his glittering wings,
he fell from the ceiling and was sucked into a bottomless pit.
"THE BIRD WITHOUT FEATHERS"
The starlight reflecting on a treetop is so beautiful
though he knew he couldn’t fly anymore, he stretched
open his old and infirm wings and flapped, looking at the sky,
to soar in the air; alas, Zeus’s thunderbolt struck him that moment.
His body was torn to pieces, his feathers were plucked away,
and because of all his cuts and bruised body, the remaining plumage
lost its splendorous colors; no matter how well he took care,
lost glossiness never to be restored, no matter how gently he combs,
his feathers fall out feebly;
when he looks back, he was a prisoner of vice
he was obsessed by insatiable lust,
the flower is so colorful
it smelled so sweet, he kept following
bewitched by the beauty of its alluring looks;
before he was aware of it, he got stuck in the mud, sunk into
the depth of vice; and though, he got out from mud just before
he was suffocated to death, his entire body was covered with
the scabs of evil,
the water flows, though he has no strength
to cross the river any more, it’s time to, he may be
washed away by the water, or dip himself in the water
to wash his scabs of evil out.
I was a successful, fashionable florist, in mild green days of elegant gardens,
When an orange sun beamed its pleasure, like locales where lavender begins.
I formed arrangements for many occasions, drawing beauty lovers from afar,
As pretty planets arrange for a meeting, after wild rumors of the newest star.
And crowded hours were filled with summer, like pearly dews crowd morning,
Until ruby butterflies are playing tag, and gemmed damselflies are swarming.
Friends felt I might always be found, in some area of flush bloom fragrancies,
Like raven midnight's march to daybreak, with its warm, varicolored agencies.
Fond family held festive feasts, in fading hours of sparkly, fuchsia sun falling,
As whippoorwill songs clashed with red robin's, midst magenta stars gawking.
I lived in the house of tangy, saturated noon, when flowers were in full glory,
Like the most beautiful day of a woman's life, when a bride she's come to be.
Scarlet, saffron and other hues glittered, within the soulful sector of summer,
As starlings sang songs along my street, and sun rose and retired, a stunner!
Neighbors were nomadized at times, as honeydew moon nestles in new night,
When visiting me on eves of silk and satin, when fresh June was at its height.
Silver clouds were saddled with summer sun, in suddenly days of sweet rose,
Like grey encumbering smoke from autumn fires, when in plum mists it flows.
Raven noon was in green treetops, as the inarticulate ravens were squawking,
And fading time seemed to stand still, but ephemeral moments kept walking.
One day I woke to a gorgeous view from my window, daisies pink and yellow,
In the wide field right next to my house, glowing in the rich, sunshine mellow!
It put such a smile on my face, oh my! Like flocks of pretty blue jays going by,
And I kept seeing daisies everywhere I went, like a pearlescent moon on high!
I beheld African daisies and shasta, and pom pom-like chrysanthemum ones;
Along with fine lustrous gerberas, in all colors found, in wild green kingdoms.
I wondered at my strange, good fortune, in seeing beloved blooms anywhere;
Like the young, butterscotch days when Mother said, 'We're going to the fair!'
For awhile, I saw sweet daisies by day, and it seems I dreamt daisies at night;
Like a brief mystic spell of rapture, when hidden beauty's freed from its plight.
I'm sorry for all the stupid things I've done
I guess I'll leave now before the break of dawn
You made me love you, but that didn't last too long
You belong with me or so I thought while writing this sad song
I'm a terrible guy with a broken heart
Strengthen me before I shatter apart
I'm such a fool for believing in your fairytale stories
Now, I'm left behind and lost in the blemishes of my allegories
Have you been led astray?
What can I say?
Did I make your day?
or did I reduce you to utter dismay?
I apologize
For bringing tears in your eyes
And for telling you sugarcoated lies
Now, I'm frozen in place forever in your goodbyes
I'm alone again in my room of gloom
I suppose I'll try to be happy and like a flower in full bloom
You made me fall short, but I'll get up and be renewed once more
You wronged me and I did you wrong too - I don't know what for
I'm a terrible guy with a broken heart
Strengthen me before I shatter apart
I'm such a fool for believing in your fairytale stories
Now, I'm left behind and lost in the blemishes of my allegories
Have you been led astray?
What can I say?
Did I make your day?
or did I reduce you to utter dismay?
I apologize
For bringing tears in your eyes
And for telling you sugarcoated lies
Now, I'm frozen in place forever in your goodbyes
I'm caught up in the current of my bottomless emotions
Guide me to a faraway place called Peaceful Splendor...guide me away from the many commotions
You pretend that you had nothing to do with me
I can see right through you as you can clearly see
I'm a terrible guy with a broken heart
Strengthen me before I shatter apart
I'm such a fool for believing in your fairytale stories
Now, I'm left behind and lost in the blemishes of my allegories
Have you been led astray?
What can I say?
Did I make your day?
or did I reduce you to utter dismay?
I apologize
For bringing tears in your eyes
And for telling you sugarcoated lies
Now, I'm frozen in place forever in your goodbyes
I see you crystal clear in my shimmering vision
You handle me with such delicate precision
I'm under pressure and I don't know exactly what to say or do
I've been writing this down with a smile and a frown - that, I did so true
Guide me away from here...
Lead me away from fear...
Guide me with utmost cheer...
Happiness and hope will surely appear!
Ben and Cora Green had seven children, like calendar pages turning;
Each one born on a different weekday, like mango sun, forever burning.
Zoe was pretty, with big eyes and dimples, while Leah loved dancing,
Yet, Bill was sort of a pessimist; like when mystic trouble is glancing.
Edward had a zeal for jogging, while Ruth ran many errands for free.
James always had a part time job. Pete was all sunshine, very happy.
Fun barbecues attracted friends, to lawns of families and red flowers;
When fluff, sleepy clouds wandered, during deep green, golden hours.
Hues of fall leaves were fawning, when flying on crisp air, like family;
Visiting the days of fuming flora, of cool chrysanthemums, so pretty!
The Greens lived in a house of calendars, as mystic prisms flash color;
The life sundered into separate hues, like in gardens of blissful wonder.
Saffron sun shone on their street, as they smiled at people they'd meet;
When silver willows whispered surrender, to warm breezes, of no retreat.
Neighbors were a part of noon memoirs. Shadows were national heroes,
In ruddy times of heat and desperation! In the heyday of burgundy rose.
'Lady Leigh' irises sizzled in red, with the fruity beauty of 'pineapple lily,'
While insects snacked on 'goldfish' plants, beneath pink clouds, so frilly!
'Starfish' flowers had big highs and lows, in strawberry days of summer;
While 'Peruvian apple' cacti bloomed, on a single, dark night of slumber.
The Green children conveyed nostalgia for joyful childhood, into old age;
As colorful fall remembers summer just left, so flower strewn and sage!
Zoe grew up to be a model, while Leah became a famous ballet dancer.
Bill became a happier TV weatherman, for after rain, sun is the answer!
Edward later ran in marathons, and Ruth founded a charity organization.
James worked hard for conservation, as Pete, a clown, toured the nation.
Like the smiles that charm each seven day week, as a teal world waltzes;
Or like satiny peace of pearl moon charm, when the purple world pauses!
'Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.'
How long will this suffrage last?
Painting the dark picture of a darkened past.
My people are supposed to be blessed,
But we are cursed in this foreign land.
My people are supposed to be royalty,
Yet we are slaves.
The seed is supposed to grow higher and higher,
But yet it withers away like a dry flower.
Just accept it, that the curse is with us,
How long will this suffrage last?
If only God’s commandments were kept,
There would be no ignorance or plague,
No death or lost identities,
No religion or slaves.
There wouldn’t be another Egypt
that would take us far away from the motherland.
How long can we survive the curse?
Will it be forever and ever?
Will our beautiful queens continue to receive pain
While baby daddies are the ones to blame?
How about the separation of our families
causing broken homes?
Is it the curse of our ancestor’s blame?
How long will we rely on this oppressive nation?
The king over us that has no regard of our struggle.
Their nation became unstoppable,
They rose higher and higher.
But my people plundered lower and lower
since the days of old, from slavery to civil rights,
And all them stories untold.
We are the tail but not the head,
We fought for our rights but we still are not equals.
How long will this curse last?
When will the shouts cry, “Free at last!”
This is the curse,
A curse where God has shamed us,
From generation to generation,
Leaving our enemies blameless,
While they steal everything we own
And make it their possession.
Our people are the creators,
Yet it is unknown.
Almost four hundred years
the plagues has risen like a swarm of locusts
Devouring the blessing because of our scattered nation.
We were like the stars in the sky shining,
Until our numbers dwindled
from the slaughter of the beast’s wrath.
If only the ancestors stayed obedient and humble,
Maybe our lives would be a blessing.
We would be living with silver and gold,
But instead we were uprooted
from the land that was promised.
My brothers and sisters wake up!
We are living in a curse.
From poverty to persecution,
Watching death catch more bodies.
Repent and renew your mind and spirit,
Follow His commandments until you reach further,
Back to the motherland that is soon to be promised.
Get out of your ways and you will be covered.
If not, you will continue living the curse.
Form:
There's A Pedophile In The House...
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)
OMG,... and he looks...
SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today
mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
inhospitable...overplay
ying faux indulgent,
NOR be mistaken
to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
writ his'm to
gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
yuge weak accusations
(by a long shot), sans
basket of conspiring deplorables
attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
versus 4th grade reading level
trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
(as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero moron,
which doth hapt
tubby incredibly tremendous
disservice to bona fide classy idiots
with a lot of money
(like the millions and billions
of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
used by crooked Hillary,
when former Secretary of State
ideal for Putin on the Ritz
by far less exciting, with
Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
sin null property
of intern (NO FALLACY)
topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
pricked prurient peccadilloes licks
suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
ingenue Monica Lewinsky
called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping
express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
cum mincecd secrete mission
blue dress draped
expensively furred
(i.e. tricked out) in her
"FAKE" minx hiding
sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
activists vehemently protested
out-coming result
slapping former president
with a PETA file.