Long Flying Poems
Long Flying Poems. Below are the most popular long Flying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flying poems by poem length and keyword.
22. Soil Report: February 2nd. The soil broke free with my bare hands. Woke up grubs and startled roots. I can’t wait. They can, a little longer.
23. I can’t wait to hide behind giant sunflowers again!
24. If personality is like a vase, do we simply put pretty flowers in it or break it free into a thousand pieces merging with wild places.
25. Crow’s voice is hoarse from screaming at hawk. Hawk keeps flying higher and higher, laughing.
26. A cat went missing. Then two. Today, the flycatchers sang with a jubilant voice: “Thank you hawk!”
27. Another riddle: Who has a different voice walking on four and then two legs?
28. Soil Report: February 26th. Black soil yielding to my four sisters planting.
It’s been seven weeks
I still feel the same for you
With all the thoughts filling my head
I feel everything
I know these tears I’m shedding are meaningless to you
They cut right through my heart
I lost my soul with you, flying high together,
you let go, letting me fall to pieces
I know these tears I’m shedding are meaningless to you
I just wonder
What the hell goes through your head
One day dreams of adventures,
You let go, letting me fall to pieces
What kind of love did you learn
It’s definitely not love that I know
I guess my home was filled with it, love
Yours, filled with traumas that haunt you
I know these tears I’m shedding are meaningless to you
NOISE AND PEACE
I listen to the noise outside
there is another helicopter flying overhead
It causes a fear in me, don't mean to be negative
But it's announcement is what I dread!
Remembering the promise I made to myself I say,
That this is only one reasons I take time to pray.
I pray for salvation and justice though I don't know what's going on.
Nearer to the end this is, and the beginning of a new song.
I know it's closer to my Lord's day
For Him to come back for us,
The worse that times are here on earth
So I say come Lord Jesus!
This is where the good is bad
And all the bad is good
Though this sounds a bit crazy
It is all to be just like it should!
So I look up at the sky and though I do know why.
Then I turn to my Lord and as I pray I cry.
It is not to remain inside with a bitter taste
And my sadness doesn't turn to waste.
Because it goes up into my Lord's heart
As He returns a healing to mine
It surpasses my understanding
No matter how I whine.
That peace still comes because I ask
And I give it up to HIM
So if it returns to me I give it up again.
While this world causes all the noise in my mind,
My Lord takes it upon my asking because He is so kind.
He replaces it with His peace
Not as the world offers but what He gives.
So I am at peace once again
And inside my life He lives.
Marilyn Davidson
02/15/16
We were once a pair of flying, floating, diving doves
Warming on wintry days under weathered wooden eaves
We swayed and swirled with ecstatic, electric pleasure.
In synchronized steps to the rising and lilting measure,
We meandered down meadows, gathering magnolia flowers
We roamed and rambled, resting under roomy bowers
We watched life’s swirling and twirling ebb and flow
We waited eager to grab life’s evanescent, ethereal glow
We never knew arrows sting or sorrow’s depth
Each merry morn, for us, was love’s lovely rebirth
We walked close to paths celestial and supernal
And lived and dallied in thoughts of love eternal
But how soon I lost the rhyme n’ rhythm of life
Dropped into a weary world with worries rife
Became a bent, broken reed far beyond repair
With no songs sung to be tuned or played ever
I had no clue why you had so hastily and stealthily left me
I found myself drifting and drowning in a dreary sea
I have been under despondent delusion and deep despair
Thought that our love was cracked and wrecked beyond all repair
Until you let me know what had transpired behind the scene
And told, you still love me and look longingly to make me your queen
To make everything a sweet surprise for me and for everyone,
You went to a far forlorn land for a living, but had none
On false charges, got detained and delayed in a refugee camp
Where you had access to none, was taunted and treated like a tramp
Now that you have a decent job and can stand on your feet
You would come to take me as your wife and would soon retreat
Now I count my days and weave dreams on dreams
Of the time you will come to darn the torn and tattered seams
When you proudly proclaim once more in my attentive ear
You are my devout darling, my all time legitimate lover
Each wayside flower brings to me your long lost, lovelorn face
The wind swayed lilacs and lilies reflect your gorgeous grace
On sordid silent nights, as the odor of your body and hair
Comes winging and wafting, for a while, I feel you are near
March.19.2022
~ Placed First~
My Lost and Found Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor- JCB Brul
Resubmitted for Alliteration- Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Joseph May
I couldn't explain to you what the life is and why!
even I could not understand why am I addicted
butted and bounded to certain circles!
I could never break the boundaries ; Too far to flying
where the sea is shedding the tears
tune in pain, peoples are dying.
I could never drown in that sea of tear
not raise my arms to take them into my lap;
thinking them near and dear.
Loving the wealth a lot I will be passed away; as everyone goes
What does something can I get!
can I take all these and those!
The pursuit of treasure of love in receiving is a momentary happiness
lover can give a little pleasure in kiss
but remembering hundreds of lives ; Grief and mourning
where the world is red in bleeding
no need I am feeling to rejoice.
~Glenn Miller~
(acrostic)
G-lenn Miller, his music is so wonderfully sublime, enchanting.
L-istening to his "Moonlight Serenade" makes me think of love so tender.
E-ndless joy, in my heart,his music always brings to me. His given
N-ame was,Alton Glenn Miller.He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, U.S.
N-otoriously,performed the trombone.His Glenn Miller Orchestra is divine
M-usician arranger,composer,and great band leader in the swing era.
I-n The Mood",is onother one of my favorite music pieces of his to this day.
L-ittle Brown Jug" "American Patrol" "Tuxedo Junction" and so many more, his
L-egacy is filled of of so much dancing and romance under a moonlit and stars.
E-ntertaining the troops was something very close to his heart.Glenn Miller,
R-emains one of the most famous and recognizable names of the big band era.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
July.21.2015
Author's notes:
My humble poem tribute to one of the greatest and most
unique bandleaders of the big band era,Glenn Miller.
One of my very favorite band leader I personally
love and enjoy hearing the most.I listen to his music
for many years now.And I believe that theres no one like him,
his music can never be duplicated by anyone.
His beautiful music just transcends time and space,forever.
(Born March 1, 1904- Missing December 15,1944)
Years active 1923-1944
In 2003 Miller, received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
His plane dissapeared while flying over the English Channel.
His remains and that of his crew has never been found.
Miller's status is missing in action up to this date.
Long live the King of Swing!
When we add a memory to our life…of a special moment…a special day…how can we ensure that memory will live on…that it will not fade away?
I imagine it’s the nature of memories that some will bubble to the surface…never to dim or fade…triggered by a photo…an aroma……a word…that awakens the moment that memory was made.
While other memories we nurture every chance we get…of a moment…a day…a time…we never want to forget.
My dad and I were never close…although the bonds between us were never broken…it’s just any love we ever shared was usually unspoken.
My dad loved to watch sports, however, and one day on a whim…I sat down to watch the final round of the Masters tournament with him.
As was customary we watched in silence…golf balls flying through the air…but I was filled with this feeling of comfort knowing he was sitting over there.
As I said it was something we didn’t talk about…something we’d never ever exclaim…but I like to think when Dad looked over at me…he was feeling just the same.
That became our yearly ritual…no matter what plans I had…one Sunday in early April every year I’d watch the final round of the Masters with my dad.
It is a memory I cherish…to this very day…and one I am determined to nurture so it doesn’t fade away.
My dad’s been gone for many years…but that hasn’t stopped me yet…every year on a Sunday in early April from turning on the TV set.
And watching, in silence, the final round of the Masters…golf balls flying through the air…remembering those precious moment as a child with my dad sitting over there.
If anyone were to ask me what I’m doing…perhaps they might think me mad…
when I smile and tell them…not much…just watching the Masters with my dad.
What do you do with a fried lemon sandwich
when lavender leaves have messed up its hair
How to you cut it in two equal pieces
while no one is home and you don’t like to share
Why is it sitting alone at the counter
as saucers of milk perform on the stage
Where is the flavor when bland is in fashion
and comic books sing on the very next page
Will you surrender to appetites chanting,
crossing the line where the pickets are white
Shoveling corn flakes when it is not snowing,
flying a kernel instead of a kite
Serving a side that is right down the middle,
leftover vegetables mashed into paste
Like a potato but not very filling,
smothered in ketchup to drown out the taste
Do you like tablecloths made out of vinyl,
just like a record but square when they play
Nothing to spin when you can’t find a needle,
looking through stacks that are covered in hay
Cook books too heavy to fit in your diet,
checking your math while subtracting a pound
Running in place when you’d rather be singing,
wishing the dining room table was round
Can you believe that a poet would write this,
watching a hummingbird outside his door
Smiling from one ear but not to the other
feeling the pinch when his cheeks are too sore
Maybe his mind is a field of distraction
perhaps it is someone that he’s thinking of
It’s a safe bet amid all this confusion
the poet who wrote this has fallen in love
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours- waiting for rebirth." Quote by - Constance La France
Down a path with nature I walk,
seeing what summer left behind.
I walk beneath the mighty tall shade trees,
dripping colorful leaves.
Winter white cotton candy clouds,
turning into a dark sad gray.
Are looking like they will decay this year,
flying high saying bye.
Cold and bold winds are now blowing,
bringing soft white fluffy snow down.
Decay ground ready for a big snowman,
red bird sits on his head.
Winter is a quiet season,
pretty flowers will fade away.
Sleeping and dreaming about warmer days,
not all to be reborn.
Spring will bring us a bright rebirth,
flowers awaking to the world.
Butterflies kissing each new flower bud,
pretty colors blooming.
Fly-ing on my broom
Plans are made...yearly on zoom.
Tonights the night of fear and fun
The...nights only just begun.
I'll screech and laugh, and scare you
I'll curse you with, potions bad brew.
I stir my cauldron well
And fill with toad heads and a rat.
Bubbles are steaming hot
And fiery, when they pop.
I make my spells, to cast on you
Then bottle it, for quid or two.
Dress code is all black
Wear our well known pointy hat.
When I'm done with you
I'll go straight home, to feed my cat.
By moonlight sky...see me fly.
My silhouette,
My silhouette,
Waves bye ...bye.
30.10.24