Long Free spirit Poems
Long Free spirit Poems. Below are the most popular long Free spirit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Free spirit poems by poem length and keyword.
The only way I could say that my life is good is because of my love for Eloah.
I want to be full of faith as Deacon Stephen and stare up at heaven and gaze at the holy spirit of Jeshua and Eloah.
Hallelujah.
I would laugh and sing praises to Eloah with other spirit compeers.
We would be in divine solidarity as we jump, shout, and share happy tears.
I would look upon his superlative omnipotence and my every being will be drawn towards his holiness and everlasting light.
Amazed, I would be at the sight of tall beautiful translucent creatures that stood in grandeur beside him, valorous upright.
I want to go to that Great Somewhere, where there will be nothing common to my life.
Where there are no boundaries in being a spirit force, no misery and strife.
Eloah's eternity of mass creations of the universe goes far beyond our imagination.
Far beyond our limited cosmos interpretation.
I would visit Eloah perfect creation of the terrestrial ecosystem of the exoplanets.
I would stand on top of hills and mountains covered with layers and layers of coarse granites.
Yes, since the universe has no edge and no measurement of time, I would travel with the pride of honorable free spirit forces to the Pleiades.
Maybe as a spirit force, we could travel to the Goldilocks zone and swim in the crystal blue rivers and seas.
As a spirit force, I could change into many forms of being.
Free to be of a significant origin with a significant meaning.
Free to be able to obtain great wisdom that would allow me to make incommensurable achievements that would satiate my heart and soul.
Oh, what a magnitude of triumph it would be to transform into a different character whose meaning in life is of a different role.
With every prayer, I believe in the Great Somewhere.
With every fiber of my being, I believe that Eloah and his only begotten son Jeshua create and rule from there.
copyright September 2023.
Psalm 19:1
Acts 6:3-8
This is another modern age,
the one others will dream about;
a free spirit out of a cage,
a balladeer creating art.
Many ages ago they used plain paper and ink,
I use a keyboard and a computer at all times;
it's a powerful hardware that makes me occasionally blink...
then it's time for me to go to bed and wait for surprises.
Pens, pencils, pads and note books now are things of the past,
what if a power loss occurred and the screen went blank,
who could recover any work...wouldn't some beat on their chest?
Get used to saving your work, be diligent and don't strain your shank.
This is another modern age that will flourish as fragrant lime,
and to lead one must be determined, motivated and accurate:
counting syllables, checking iambic meter, stress and rhyme...
and the author will have a chance to become a Poet Laureate.
Dead leaves
Brown lifeless carpet;
Windy conclusions
~~~~~~~~~
Sun beams streak
Dawn happens fast;
Birth of new day
~~~~~~~~~
Little boy here
Little girl there;
Playtime sand pitch
~~~~~~~~~
Candlelit cupcake
Feisty fiery wish;
Soul in free spirit
~~~~~~~~~
Waiting here
High rise lift crowd;
Together alone
~~~~~~~~~
Evening interlude
Stray insect cacophony;
Night shift postures
~~~~~~~~~
TV sitcom
Drama on demand;
Pricey menu
~~~~~~~~~
Stray aromas
Perfume floating sweet;
Familiar presence
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy hours
Dreamy preoccupations;
Drowsy forgetfulness
~~~~~~~~~
My monkey mind
Fickle flip flops;
Splashing unclear
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
12 May 2016
Singapore
Marija was blatantly alluring which is what attracted him in the first place.
Her name was not exotic, but her attitude was.
Her whimsical manners and masterful life steps were a joy to watch.
There was a quirkiness about her that drew all of us in, even the women.
She was a Romanian gypsy queen who danced with scarves
And sparkled with silver shimmering spangles.
Mesmerized, we watched her from every corner of the room.
Who is she? My uncle Jim wanted to know, asking everyone.
I knew then that his carousing days were over.
She was masterful, I will give her that.
A free standing, freewheeling, free spirit of a woman.
Sensual, sexual, and seriously seductive.
My uncle had been a lone wolf for nigh onto thirty years.
We watched him that night, seeing the tremendous effect Marija had over him.
Indicative of the effect she would have on him for the rest of his life actually.
A body abandoned
needs to mourns its last breath in death
a heart cast aside
still aches to meet its last beat
and a free spirit yearns for a winged monarch moment
to fly in the spirit of freedom…
opportunity
flares a tongue
snaky and bittersweet.. a flicker
grows flames that twist passion’s kiss with kismet
a chance
to escape on a breath of air
an exhalation;
warm incense offered to vesper -
the wish of a scent to slip through the keyhole
above the hiss of heat
and gasps of air
rushing combustion to a roar
airy mystics spoke in the eerie smoke
w h i s p e r s
urge the purge of perishable pain
unclasping lonely-linger’s grasping fingers
soft-spun knit and purl unravels
as vintage yarn twined with sun and rain unties -
aging rays fail to stave Winter’s grays
and the ethereal thread of an earthly creation
releases its tendril
from the spinning wheel’s weave of circular seasons
from seed to harvest and warmth to chill
vestiges of sisterly hands cup a ceded sigh
chrysalis celebrates destined to re-emerge a butterfly
terminal tremble of a twilight trill is hushed
vulnerability swaddled
cradled by clouds of silver and gold
a mortal’s surrender consummates upon the pyre -
cinders cleansed of tears and cries and vices
but never the dreamy intrinsic colors
of the opal’s unfurling blaze
she ascends
a flash of embers relieved of ash
taking fire to the skies with a tigress torch igniting
molten pools spooning the spine of the western shadow
heralding an awakened afterglow to the afterlife -
lamplight gilds mare’s tails hooking heavens
pathways adrift from the burning thurible
of a trinity on the cusp of rebirth...
incense rises upon a heated atmosphere
riding the riddle of the four winds
beyond realms of soil and salt - reason and logic
yonder the profound truth of the-not-humanly-known
seeing past reflections within mere margins of a mind’s mirror
accepting the enlightening throb of the enigmatic pulse of creation
becoming one with the ultimate mystery
the wish of a scent to slip through the keyhole
fulfilled with exchange of gifts -
the offering of her sunset shroud
for the white mantle of sunrise
We struggle through life for worthy causes,
and ofter times, it's much too great a risk
to outlive those hardships and come out victorious,
but it's infighting that we regain our lost strength.
We build treasures and find in them no pure happiness,
never undaunting courage, only acknowledging disappointments
and the smallest victory seems a definite delusive dream
falsely envisioned and capable of drawing us to their realm.
Why can't we take the mystery out of divination
and make us aware of our own distorted realities
that won't require explanations riddles with doubts,
only considering the ones worth-keeping
by simply avoiding those less promising.
Rise above a dubious state, spark and enhance your aspirations
and take into consideration the prophetic words of a wise man,
" Life can be a nurturing mother from within,
always giving us that undaunting courage. "
Achievements are the fruit of planned dreams
where a noble and free spirit expresses its emotions through truth,
and whenever a misguided soul wanders off into the cold darkness:
it will die without having felt, or possessed any significant worth,
it will be held captive and denied the simplest joys that ignite tears,
never knowing how valorous is undaunting courage.
Death, don't lie to the rest of the world
Say it,
Loud and clear
That you and I are good friends!
Say it,
That you are,
For me,
The taste of exquisite chocolate
As it melts in the mouth,
You are,
The orgasmic climax lovers feel
When they get tangled in each other
On those nights when the moon is too shy
To even show a part of itself!
You are,
The moment creation happens in poets
And artists of all sorts!
Why, Death,
You are my soothe,
You are my relief,
The hand I long to hold,
The channel through which I shall go through
Overjoyed,
As free as a free spirit
As free as a liberated soul,
One so totally aware of the need to
Be as exactly as she wants
For life remains as elusive as is a reflection
On river waters!
Death,
I revere you,
I live for you
And I await for your coming
With music pounding in my heart
And with zeal painting itself all over my soul!
Though, I have one request for you,
Be gentle with me
I shall not fight you
I shall accompany you,
There shall be no need to be catastrophic with me
Be gentle
And lift me up to your realm
Being a good friend of yours,
I shall simply accompany you
With a smile on my face
And with curiosity in my heart
As,
Exploring what lies beyond
Has been on my mind
Since quite some time now!
My Auntie
When he entered his aunt’s basement flat
I had been in the yard when she called me in
she squatted over a bucket of water, cleaning her fanny
I handed her a towel and a bottle of spray cologne
My aunt was not like other aunts took no interest
In knitting woolly socks for African children
She was a free spirit and loved men, but she preferred
Teutonic men and disliked the Latin types, except once
When we children brought home a black cook from
A banana ship; he spent two nights in her bed but looked
pale when the captain came to fetch him.
Once, after the war, she sat on a leafy tree for three days
when a band of righteous men went looking for and rape
women who had been friendly to the Germans.
Once, on a bus tour to Germany, she visited her former lovers
who, by now, had grandchildren; I don’t think their wives liked her visit.
When she moved to a roomier home, I liked nothing better
then on Sundays, sit in her kitchen, eat pepper cakes
drink coffee and smoke cigarettes.
My youth is gone; but my energy and enthusiasm
are still in me making me full of zest and gusto.
At seventy, I am more enthusiastic and excited
about life for every day is a new day, an adventure.
Gone are the days running in the fast lanes, being
here, there and everywhere to get things done.
Or the days when every little things became big
deals making you spin your wheels for nothing.
Now, I just take care of myself, do things on my
sweet time and let little things not bother me.
I am so thankful of just living my life to the fullest,
like a little child, so free, full of energy, enthusiasm.
That zesty feeling makes me spunky to dress up
in style, adding accessories, like spicing my cooking.
Feeling zesty pleasantly stimulates me to do my
drawings with pizazz and delight in sketching them.
It makes me so excited to sing and to learn Italian
songs with correct pronunciations and rhythms.
It gives me exuberance when I dance that people
notice and let me know they enjoy watching me.
Feeling zesty allows me to be zealous in writing
poems to motivate and to encourage positivity.
Feeling zesty shows my free spirit, happiness,
creativity, passion to inspire others to live it up.
12/5/21 "Z" Contest, New Or Old - Poetry
Constance La France
Theme: #8 - Zesty
In realms beyond, where shadows dance with glee,
Draw near, sweet child, and heed my decree.
Though my earthly form resides, in silent repose,
My essence endures, as life’s eternal cycle flows.
Fear not the cold, silent stone’s embrace,
For here, pitting bones and rotting flesh replace.
Seek instead the dawn’s hallowed, new light,
Enveloped in warm laughter, shared by friendships tight.
In your veins, my presence forever flows,
A soothing rhythm, amidst life’s highs and lows.
Through raging storms and stinging rain, I’ll be near,
In every Spring’s bloom, my presence vibrant and clear.
Discover me in the symphony of the surging sea,
In the starry night’s celestial harmony.
Like the moonbeams that color your eyes so bright,
I am your guide in the darkest of night.
I am the courage in your soul’s embrace,
The inner voice guiding you, through life’s relentless race.
Embrace all the world, let your free spirit soar,
For within its depths, I live on forevermore.
Treasure the memories, laughter, and love we’ve sown,
But know this, dear child, you are never alone.
In every sunrise, painting the sky with hues so rare,
I’ll be the golden warmth, a love beyond compare.
One day, an affair grand, we’ll rejoice again,
Ascending Heaven’s stairs together, hand in hand.