Long Fugacious Poems
Long Fugacious Poems. Below are the most popular long Fugacious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fugacious poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: September 30, 2023
Sponsored by: Silent One Pick a Colour Contest
"There is my body, in it an ocean formed of his glory, all the creation, all the universes, all the galaxies, are lost in it. Rumi"
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In the scenic scope of a sparklingly stained sky.
Brushstrokes by a dulcet master, sky-high
An exhibit of azure splendor, a masterpiece.
Exquisite works of nature, why must you cease?
A cyanic cerulean, cavorting and courageous
Paints a tale that is both untold and tenacious.
Azure colors dance with genuine happiness.
All day long, hearts are captured by sappiness.
Wispy wetness, whitening whisper wreath.
With complete pride, wrap the sheath
Clouds of cotton candy wander nearby.
Adding elegance and grace to a sunny sky
A golden orb, the sun, sends a brilliant light.
Exudes a svelte and diaphanous gaze bright.
A radiance of soft light through the universe.
Fluttering formulaic fascination is fluminous.
Flowers fields in fabulous fonts of Forebay
Akin to a painter's palette, they thrive and sway.
Delicate petals, akin to brushstrokes fine,
Creating a tapestry is so divine.
The ocean waves have a turquoise hue.
Crash upon the shore, in shades of dew.
Symphony of mellifluous vibe, a rhythmic song,
As the creator elixir flows swiftly along,
Seagulls whiz by with wings wassail wide.
Their graceful flight was a sight to abide.
They elapse through the canvas with elegant ease.
Adding zest and zeal to an ephemeral breeze
As the day gyres to dusk, the sky transforms.
Brushstrokes of indigo chart various forms.
Mahogany and navy, fete the felicity of the scene.
Choreographing a fugacious, halcyon, and serene
Furtive stars twinkle, akin to gems so bright,
As the divine fulfills the tableau for the night,
Brushstrokes of cobalt in the glamor sky,
A marvelous feat that yields hearts to sigh.
The splendor of nature's marvels can't be denied.
A canvas filled with hues, so bright and defied
The creator is inconspicuous, yet his aura is felt.
It's clearly blatant in the cyan smudges knelt.
Written: September 08, 2023
Sunsets Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
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In September golden day, so glorious and beamy,
As twilight stains the sky, a cynosure so dreamy.
Dusk abides, effulgent hues ignite the land,
And felicity abounds as we bask in daylight's sleek hand.
Penumbra kisses the horizon, casting a mellifluous spell,
Fugacious twinkles, as erstwhile avian dwell.
A demesne of pastures, comely and calm,
Where halcyon trees sway to the riparian psalm.
Harbingers of sunset, sunburnt and diaphanous,
Serenade the land with their soothing lullaby chorus.
Vesper whispers skid, such an elixir so tall,
Glamour and silence embrace, as the trees do enthrall.
In this bucolic scene, dulcet and radiant,
The purple hues paint a landscape so vibrant.
Slumber approaches, as the red heat fades
Epiphany dawns, a dramatic parade.
The horizon ablaze with refulgent light,
Lurid flames of passion, inflamed and bright.
Beaming through the breeze, the sundown delight,
A spectacular event, incandescence ignites the night.
As the gloaming swings to night, a symphony unfolds,
A dance of shades and emotions, stories yet untold.
In the afterglow, the world retreats,
To a striking melody, where each note meets.
Splendiferous sunset, resplendent and grand,
The nighttime sky bestirs, a resounding band.
Evenfall descends, with its dark flame,
A splendid display, a sight to acclaim.
The striking hues, such a painting divine,
Illuminate the darkness, with a radiant shine.
The nighttime sky, a tapestry of wonder and delight,
A symphony of colors, painting the night.
The evenfall whispers a tale so sweet,
As the moon rises, the night's heartbeat.
A symphony of silence, embraced by the dark,
A peaceful retreat, where dreams embark.
Quote: True intelligence requires fabulous imagination. Ian Mcewan
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In a realm of dulcet dreams, a tale unfurls,
Where fleeting moments dance with the sublime,
A fugacious world where time swiftly swirls,
And fabulousness transcends the paradigm.
Amidst the quintessential meadow green,
Where propinquity weaves its tender thread,
A susurrous symphony of whispers keen
Guiding souls to where bucolic dreams are spread
The cynosure of these demes is divine.
A solitary tree with branches vast,
Its leaves are gossamer, delicate, and fine.
A sanctuary where demure hearts find solace at last.
From its boughs, an elixir drips and sings.
A tincture of nature's sweetest essence,
An elixir that heals and renews all things,
A harbinger of peace and quintessential presence.
With each sip, pyrrhic fruition is won.
As burdens are shed and troubles are eased,
The soul is uplifted, the spirit is spun,
In this sanctuary, worries are appeased.
Whispers of the bucolic breeze parade,
Through fields of wildflowers and sun-kissed air,
Nature's symphony, the sweet serenade
A melody that bears hearts out of despair.
As the sun sets on this magical scene,
The demesne was bathed in hues of gold and red.
The elixir power, forever serene,
Leaving a lingering bliss, a memory that never fades.
Whispers of the bucolic breeze remain.
In the hearts of those who dare to believe,
In the power of nature's gentle refrain,
And the magic it can weave.
With the morning begins my day;
Different roles I'm ready to play.
Again and again I am perturbed ,
But nature and emotions are undisturbed.
Silently, without a word, all needs I suffice;
Day to night, unsaid unconditional sacrifice.
What do I gain from all these duties?
Deteriorating my health and my fugacious beauty?
Still, I don't pretend, I take my job seriously;
As a homemaker and a mother, working audaciously.
If I don't follow my virtue as my duty,
Who else do you think will prove their loyalty?
(Rhyme Scheme- aa bb cc dd ee ff)
21/04/2016
P.S. This poem is inspired by my mother who is a diligent homemaker and the best mother on earth.
Written: October 21, 2023
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To be quite truthful—this epoch is tedious.
I dread them at times, analogous to previous
Dyed by a lack of variance and fluctuation.
Iterate routine rituals—meals, bills, taxation.
I can't believe how quickly time has flown by.
Wrinkles around my eyes feign my look way.
Suddenly, my young kids began to scream.
I lose track of time until all the eddies gleam.
Ogle overall life—what do you foresee?
Pages unwritten—dreams holding the key
Words locked within, yearning for light
Seeking a saffron sky—scale stiff sight.
Meandering amid this sweaty labyrinth
On a quest to descry arrant amaranth.
Unaffected by novelty, speed, or transience,
Rather, favors beating in a sturdy ambiance.
Its gentle beat requires focused attention.
This is not for sissies or pretenders intentions.
To cement an alliance that seeks out solitude.
Deer graze over the breast; wings raise brood.
Forgive swiftly if you flout the rules—life is short.
Warm love, soft kisses, and free mirth exhort.
And never be regretful—always embrace
That obviously brings a smile to your face.
A straining kite yearns for a cloud.
As the sun aims to cut fuzzy shrouds,
Words we deliver—but no one hears.
As no clues, the query quest eager ears,
Too many mountains abide yet to climb.
Copious ventures for a hundred lifetimes.
Inscribing mellifluous views on the walls of life
Following fugacious furtive with flutter and fife
Describers of visions that lay beyond reach
Grasping for tomorrow on a distant beach
I wrote these words for those who belong.
Just them will realize dreams are poets' songs.
I didn’t see Alhaji Sule, the big contractor
Though he is a sponsor with a huge stake in government.
I didn’t see Chief Ade the financial banker
Though he is well-versed on political palavers.
I didn’t see Mazi Eze the business mogul
He’s engrossed in his profits of sales and remains apolitical.
I didn’t see Sir Osahon the civil servant
I wonder, but guess he knows he’ll always have his pay.
I’ve hardly seen his Excellency, not any of his children
But I can see all his servants and some of his relatives.
I see market women, okada riders, menial labourers
Poor farmers, job seekers and beggars, superintend by
Ad-hoc staffs, police, army, party agents, observers
Thugs, cultists, pickpockets and party chiefs, all…
All under the biting sun from sunrise to sunset.
From the tussling crowd I hear and see unending
Wails of distress, curses, cracking of limbs and crimson
Muffled by fugacious shouts of political victories
When from behind the curtain five dollars less swaps for a vote.
Stale politicians and their eating party chiefs preside over
The poverty, ignorance and despair of the masses who shall
Again be left in the cyclic vortexes of socio-economic woes.
In the coming years, they’ll, in public, keep licking their wounds
While the politicians, in private, will have and eat their cakes!
Rumi Verse: "When you feel you cannot even bear one more minute, NEVER GIVE UP! Because it is the time and place that the course will divert!"
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Last month, a lot inured downhill
with the harbinger of a fresh one,
no denying how furtive time is
yet, it gambols at a peculiar pace
were you hoping to learn of kismet?
Is that a glum expression?
supple in the shape of teardrops,
dreadful are the sobs of my soul.
Nothing should be identical
this is a fugacious future
another month has started
since this world endures spinning
proceed in earnest
akin to moons and suns
assured by the sight of tides
evocative of opulent ideals,
still, I will acquire backup.
Update often, with no delay,
and refine to improve
a depiction of one's existence,
a month elapsed with its anguish,
anger and suffering from all sides,
when will sorrow vanish?
I shed vanity of that era,
conquering adversity, I stand tall,
a vast, whirling ivory sea—that's me
swelling and edema hit me in waves,
jubilation, and seasonal bounty
plethora of blessings,
tranquility, support, and freedom
healing, atonement,
rise above, deepen your affection
a successful, reasonable life.
Written: February 11, 2024
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Features: fugacious fascinating beat
I saw smoke, but no flames in sight
I caught a cynosure of elusive heed
Fourteen redolent rifts were recorded
Oddly scripted, akin to grain ears
or stalks of rhubarbs in diaphanous vibes
Love came, wrapped in dulcet skin
Upon palms with comely lines, ceased.
A seraglio within a flesh
Where a vase holds a full moon
And a drape of hues: tan, blue, and gray.
Pink echoes linger in the same vase
As drove of doves drifting down an abyss
I hit a home run with white silk rope wings
And forefeel fountains flowing freely
where my dreams are the hue of spring
In a diamond outfit, I'll reach paradise
Slowly, I caress the lavish swirl of phloxes
Adopt time to hear your dizzy murmurs.
Why is it love-shaped if it's not mine? You query
A vast stretch of soil shrouded in mist
Dawn rises from its decor of the virgin sky.
My love for you remains unwavering
Love is trapped on a limb, suspended in the air
Whether stored with mustard or soy
or fragments of an unfinished haiku
The heart of love calls for a spry stir
by milk-stained palms and sour cream
A heart so grand, burdened by weariness.
Today dawns with a pristine sky
For the scenery and the stream
slashing across ropes of sapphire
A blend of cyan and white.
I discovered this to be accurate
To love is to shatter the gates of heaven
Stripping a night star from its vastness
Only to put it in a desolate roof garden
even if it blossoms for a single night
Only to perish the following dawn
My shears sprang to life, ready to trim
I may have loved the size of the cosmos,
In a fleeting point, unguarded and sublime.
Enamel strings and skeins entwined
In love, everything seems ostentatious
Words extravagantly rhymed, flowing lyrics
Crafted in vibrant shades of captivating art.
Written: January 30, 2024
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"Except during the nascent stages of real humility, true love remains quiescent." By Poet
Fragmented Form: A rhyme form created by poetess: Constance La France
Calm and quiescent, yet restless and untamed,
I realize contentment in this particular instance.
Unruly and unbridled epiphany—feel unashamed,
Their routines are seamless of their existence.
Embedded in my core—words lie idle in my mind,
In an evanescent suffocation, downcast and confined.
Quiescent, craving liberty—eager to be divined,
Regrouping with family upon shelter and care.
Feeling fugacious, free to float forward and flare,
Words have become quiescent—in my dare.
My life has a secret vault in the back, framed,
A sanctum, I retreat to unveil glee in assistance.
My heart unlocks this hide—for who seek to find,
This closet has a door for all who wish to share.
Souvenirs
nostalgic
heirloom
memorabilia
archived
muniments
prospectus
paraphernalia
posters
sequestered
Benefaction blight
twinkling trinket
tinged trophy
hoisted
himalayan style
melancholy monument
meteoric miniscule
flyby
verdant vestiges
viral vanish
Mayfly
transient
miscellany
evanescent
detritus
fugacious
snippets
antiquarian
bricolage
hodgepodge
Testament atrophied
gossamer gaudy
gazumping
languid lodger’s
meretricious milestone
culminated
artefact assemblage
bowdlerised bijou
moribund reticule
abecedarian
Marcescent abstract
mileage mocker
synthetic switch
unplugging
nomadic nonpareil
reminiscence’s
ineffable
ephemeron
aphoristic
aleatory