Long Foresees Poems
Long Foresees Poems. Below are the most popular long Foresees by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foresees poems by poem length and keyword.
Poems settle softly on the 'Peace Race,'
But a cyclone wind whirls to birth mishap.
Each soul foresees truth at a dreamer's pace,
While blue Earth is ripe with thoughts to unwrap.
Hope clasps the trees, painting the Elven hues.
Freeing our pink hearts' lasting love that swells
When wise leaders embrace the moonlit views,
Invoking kind spirits, summoning Elves.
The moonlit council leans on bargaining.
Soft persuasion drifts gently to mainstream
Garden Sprites who charm the soul, nurturing,
With the Elves' theme of peace that reigns supreme.
Kind 'letters' soar above divisive schemes
As Peace becomes more than an Elven dream!
*Image of Pelosi Leaves Taipei by BBC.
Terra Incognita
Diurnal moments margin in my head,
As metamorphosis pirouettes hands,
Nightmarish recall exit none be said,
An armistice mosey in of spilt sands.
Logjam beliefs wane gains, prosperity,
Erring hand fingered an island nation,
Right foresees windfall, voters clarity,
Left wins Red China, lost the election.
Past oversights also recent letdowns,
Amiss twentieth, twenty-first embed,
Ruse an angle nefarious look rounds,
Dame be a torpedo full speed ahead!
It is a jigsaw board, a puzzling face,
An instance period to bygone years,
A world in awe as one alters a pace,
A nation benign oddity brew peers.
2022 August 25
*2nd Place*
This or That, Vol 13
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 September 04
Terra Incognita
Prizing self entails being true to who you are.
There are flaws and candles that ignite the air.
Man must determine his trifles and vision.
to be known for his victory, not his omission.
Everything vibrates and breathes with vitality.
"Life is the mind dwelling in a false reality."
Nothing can prevent fiery existence spread.
Life creates a graveyard amid careless dead.
Ponder the angel's conception of the woods.
Only a keeper knows where ring-dove broods.
Glad chirp feels cute; finds the angel happy.
Success is alike heaven; our steps are snappy.
In search of that mysterious, all-curing elixir.
Life is fleeting and puzzling; forewarn the mixer.
It is a force of its own that does not move time.
Hinting at and fathoming Divinity, life is sublime.
I revere you with a modest and cheerful smile.
Across words, I'll praise you with gaze for a while.
Fruitful awareness sees but can't touch the trees.
I worship you as a beauty that flows and foresees.
1st place contest winner
Written: February 06, 2023
Writing Challenge - D Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Curse those who curse highway
The spell leading wheels astray
By which clutch and break betray
Commands, drivers' feet convey
To lay every prayers hope on may
Curse those who curse the breeze
Summoned by the darkened decrees
Eyes, heart even not mind foresees
The danger that is about to sneeze
Holding unto time to make moment unease
Curse those who want blood
Red, blue, black flowing flood
That spirits move and scud
What a sudden end planted in mud!
By humility, tears run lips, thud.
Forgive the highway thieves
Toasting the pleasant eves
By rounds aleatory weaves
Foreshadowed in grieves
Only, by chance, luck retrieves
Forgive the highway whores
Whose bodies never let time ignores
Men's races wanting encores
In the name of drugs from different stores
To lasting on battlefield pleasure adores
Forgive highway trailers
Conveying goods and wholesalers
Taking no cognizance of the retailers
Motor boy's eyes troubled inhalers
Who fears not joining jailers
Forgive highway's Police
Whose charge never decrease
For respect to be apiece
And smiles love having peace
Yet money comes before the release
Forgive the reckless drivers
Who drinks and pray cum survivors
Won't you forgive those that put them on the highway
That to no avail, their aims betray
In the laughing woods,
Where oaks speak their peace
And wildflowers smile with ease,
Where moss carpeted stones seem to breath
And pine scented nights sometimes grieve,
Where the forest walls are deep
And the moon so often preaches
Where melancholy cannot compete
With the shadows and the streams –
Where I long to be, when the night seeps in
Offering its gentle relief,
Sending my heart a grace that sees
Past the pines, the oaks, all the trees
Into the music of a quiet that believes
Wherever the stars glow and wink
There is a joy beyond the comprehension,
There is a knowing that foresees
All the love that comes from giving in
To the melodies of God’s creativity, His laughter
Who swells in the air, in the wind, in the streams
Reaching into the heart who will agree
Even the woods relinquish their grief
To the song of a fading soliloquy –
Where nothing is as it seems
And the forest just dreams and dreams,
Leaving lights to express gentle poetries
Arising beneath the mysteries of a song
Composed on the heart who grows strong
Beneath the laughter of the wood’s heavy scent,
the impressions of faith in circumspect –
the music that never quite forgets!
The Bishops bathe in Babylon
while Princes, prancing on the lawn,
watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan.
The King dares not defend her.
The Horsemen, holding broken reins
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain,
the Saints will soon surrender”.
They wonder why they ever came,
they have No One whom they can blame,
they have no face, they have no name,
and even less, a gender.
The empty-handed Vagabonds
smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes
while waiting at the walls beyond,
but kneel as Chaos enters.
They’re gazing through the window panes
in hopes that distant Hurricanes
will twist and break their iron chains
defying life’s tormentors.
The Fantom of the Opera frowns
as feeble minded Cleric-clowns
mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds
when blessing doomed dissenters.
The Pirate wields a wooden leg,
with pupils dull and visage vague,
and if by chance he spreads the plague,
it really doesn’t matter.
His Princess, pale, no longer feigns,
foresees instead (down ancient lanes)
the coming of the Hurricanes -
the Stones stir, staring at her.
And Jackals scrape the river bed
as Savants soothe the underfed
and Crows, collecting scattered bread,
adorn, with crumbs, the platter.
The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes
weep, winding up in rundown trains
mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
and Priests refuse to christen.
They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns,
the cuckoo birds, the dying swans;
while pitching pennies into ponds
their eyes opaquely glisten.
The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes
remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
the time of day and other jokes,
yet No One looks to listen.
The Hunchbacks with contorted canes
galumph before the Hurricanes,
in melted sleet, in frozen rains,
in bruised and battered sandals.
Their Groans engulf the land of gulls,
the land of stones, the land of nulls,
and lurk between the blackened lulls,
for Nighttime brooks no candles.
Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes,
(and other long forgotten Spooks)
are more than random crazed rebukes,
though taunting to the Vandals.
Continued in Part 2
It isn’t weak when it pleasures me
It’s more profound in informing details in leaks it only seeks sensual desire
The way it’s too tight it swipes me right off my feet just to flee off the forbidden valley
It cheers in complexion disguising in corals
Its distinctive insights foresees the flexible feeling to enter
To bind right with the lips just to taste the power of being dominated
If I would scream it would enjoy my acknowledgment
In further it would go straight up to start over again
This time my eyes would be folded in mystery
My hands would be handcuffed
The room shall be ball the most auspicious fulfilment of different desirable tools to commit submissive Act
Purified…The chosen ones only to transmit such Dominant Act
The chemistry it plays the actual passion of being submissive.
The taste of being strangled grasping for air till the feeling of dizziness contagiously takes its effect then being let go right after a full squeeze of the under area
A punishment of a spank while bend over without a cause
A trap for both of my legs just to be powerless while I’m being violated slowly
Each stroke contains a high pitch of moans
Until the water fall squirts leaving an unbearable vibration of sensation
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
against the western wind; he will certainly mourn Piraeus,
and with sorrow-striken eyes, he'll invoke Poseidon.
Then he'll depart carrying the long hunting horn.
The small vessel will hold out and he won't fear waves,
but he laughs at Ares--who despises all kinds of irony.
Occasional gusts soothe the skin on his noble face,
unwrinkled and unrugged. Spring water should
quench his dry tongue; it's too warm and tasteless.
Stored in a huge amphora which depicts faces
of gods and warriors engaged in warfare,
it has the same warmth of the sweat that drips
from his hot forehead that has turned red.
Ahead, wisps of fog arise--an imagery whale.
Beyond there are perils and certain delights;
thoughts of danger will perturb him, thoughts
of discovery will enthrall him. He will be experiencing
them on his voyage--what he desires is smooth sailing.
He has heard of sirens and cyclops,
of fertile valleys and fields of yellow wheat;
of buffalos that roam, of goats and sheep that bleat.
How amazed he will be to find rocks
to build the New City*on that pristine shore--
he will declare his Queen sitting in the marble throne!
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
to escape Achille's curse; he refuses to hide in the wooden horse,
he will never return to Greece. Athens and Sparta will not fight
with swords and arrows; their grand plan is to win war by deceit.
Cleverness will defeat the Trojans. Only Helena foresees the worse;
they don't heed her words--Troy will fall to the enemy.
* The New City: Neapolis ( Naples ).
When we travel through the solitary road
Not taken by many of those happy crowd
Hardly we glimpse the direction board
Rather drench in the showers of depreciative words
Pondering over our desired destination
Wondering about the mystical citations
Dreading the results of our action
We may feel perturbed and agitated
Like a daunted child
Abandoned in the field wild
We feel exhausted and dejected
At this crucial time, will emerge an angel
Like the god who appears in a child's dream
To make him smile like a sunbeam
arises as an angel, our inner strength
Help us traverse the road lengthy
The spirit inside us hauls
good spirits and souls
Who will travel along with us
To make our journey successful
So when we travel through the solitary road
Not taken by many of those happy crowd
Never look up for the direction board
Do not carry those depreciative words
Rather kindle your inner force
For the road's end, it foresees
And drive you complete the course
May 9 2022
The One who writes the music
In notes of hope and peace,
Leaving out the darkness, embedding
Grace that relieves…
The One who writes the story
Between joy and faith,
Echoing life through the pages
Inspiring such thanks….
The One who writes the moments
With a pen of sun and rain,
Silencing the worries, easing
Even the past…
The One who writes the smiles
Through intimacy and light,
Foresees the edges of sweet joy,
Enlightens and enlivens…
The One who writes my colors
In hues of wonder and love,
Brightens all my heart’s yearnings
With dreams forevermore…
The One who writes my journey
Through blessings so unique,
Miracles and Godsends – consenting
To bring me a full book…
This volume is made up of wonders
Far more beautiful than the eye can see,
Far more brilliant than the sunlight,
Far more amazing than I can explain
For it comes to those who know Him
The One who writes with a creative hand,
The One who inspires and understands,
The One who answers all my prayers.
Because of Him, I know what it means
To love beyond my wildest dreams!