Long Fulgent Poems
Long Fulgent Poems. Below are the most popular long Fulgent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fulgent poems by poem length and keyword.
I was an inscrutable, capricious mystery writer, like a pure mystery of days;
And I had composed best selling novels, like westering sun's scarlet phase.
An unparalleled passion for writing, had for quite long been the motivation,
Behind novels which captured hearts, like pink clouds, drifting in formation.
My office desk faced the picture window, near the border of riotous blooms;
And sunny views enriched often eager eyes, owing to birds of many plumes.
Friends were a forever force in my life, like the natural floods of floundering,
Or as sun and moon meet in an eclipse, darkening heyday, with no warning.
Fairy-like forests, and fields of colored flowers, flamed with furious abandon,
Frequently, as fulgent family found one, to dazzle brighter than amber sun!
I lived in the house of mist mysteries, in haze shrouded, mighty mountains;
And each cherry dawn doled surprises, like roving redbirds in the thousands.
So sleepy in sun-drenched summer, my silent street was stained with hues,
In new modern, stylish, songbird days, like a gold treasure you cannot lose.
Neighbors would navigate narcissistic night, bearing an apple pie, or a joke;
Sharing fun and noisy laughter, like a blue undersea volcano, magma awoke.
Birds swept peaks of sculpted, stunning mountains, in the hot, daisy season,
And sky and the earth merged twice a day, in affinity hues of love cohesion.
The naked man orchid shivered with breezes, like quivery trees of November,
And Johnny Jump Up puckered at lemon sun, like a sour taste remembered.
In a sapphire sea near the mountains, a friend and I set out sailing one day,
As a youth follows wildest, golden dreams. Yet, heavy fog descended to stay.
Were we heading for wide open water, or drifting to shores of purple flowers?
That danger held a lovely mystery, like adventure during the nighttime hours.
Hour after rosy hour, we were drifting blind. Our motor had long since died;
Like green butterflies, questing for hours, in a place pink daisies lately cried.
We were afraid of being lost forever, so Pearl and I joined hands and prayed,
Also praying for our downhearted families, if fate's hand would not be stayed.
After many anxious, vagrant moments, a foghorn sounded, loud and so near;
Our desperate prayers were answered, by the voice of our Savior, very dear!
Written: October 23, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Hilo Poet
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Under the serene alabaster glow of dawn
Beneath a vibrant sunset-hued nimbus sky,
Fiery souls awaken,
Yearning for radiant aureate visions.
In a city that clatters as a fractured calliope.
Every step a stammer; every breath a trade.
Amid the dull ache of an endless struggle.
They intertwine cacophony and tumult.
Beyond the silent torment of dark corridors.
In lands where ideas don the garb of trade.
And hope is a fracture in the pane.
The horizon, a split hymn, hides its forms.
Decked on a worn sheet of souvenir,
They are the exhausted trekkers.
The hungry architects of hunger,
below neon hieroglyphs broodingly
that promised cure but offers pabulum.
Still, they resile—
in ductile dignity,
with the persistence of concrete weeds.
The city is a chimera.
A miraculous mirage of merit and mirth,
where the fulgent meets the forlorn,
offering support structures for survival.
It serves as both aegis and nemesis,
a serene serpentine
that whispers in sesquipedalian puzzles.
Still in the penumbra of its beat,
some holiness remains—
A child laughs, bouncing off the brick.
A stranger's hand brushes in the subway.
A mural arises upon a crumbling facade.
These are the hallowed.
The ceaseless—.
These are soft murmurs of the soul.
That which the city cannot remove.
They set out on their journey—
Not in the quest for fame.
But everlasting beauty eludes us all.
Routinely dedicated to the same rules.
Form:
We cannot tame a raging storm, so with patience,
we must wait for the calm. ~ by poet
The balmy afternoon had been fulgent and warm
Until darkness foreshadowed an approaching storm
Wailing winds of the nor'easter would soon cause grief
damaging fragile coral growth upon the reef
Leaden clouds encroached and shrouded the gloomy day
The aura changed from gold to hue of graphite gray
It seemed as if an eclipse turned day into night
as feathered wings rose in unison to take flight
Thunder's billowed breath blew across the ocean's waves
as if the tempest was demanding what it craves
Atmosphere grew heavy with each powerful roar
White caps rushed with clangor against the sandy shore
With vengeance, the storm hurled jagged lightening strikes
Split second flashes that resembled silver spikes
* * *
Then, the deluge rained like arrows, sharp as metal
That would've wounded men like a stinging nettle
The monsoon swept overland, clear across the dunes
on zephyr winds that howled diabolical tunes
The storm seethed with a furor that was unsuppressed
leaving the seaside landscape despoiled and distressed
Battered by ferocious weather that was to blame
Nature's forces can be impossible to tame
Finally, squalls dwindled and waves no longer surged
Glowing rays of sunlight defiantly emerged
And so the storm came with raging temper to vent,
pillaged treasures from the sea. Yes, it came and went
It was quite a balmy evening, fulgent and warm
Upon the beach seashells lie, displaced by the storm
I want to write about skies so blue that every square of heaven sighs
I want to pen about flowers and trees and little scurrying rabbits too
Down in the meadows I will lay my head and invent stories for you
Poem after poem sharing dreams and hopes while scrying the skies
I want you to imagine the flavor of my peach by the noon day sun
I want to share the incensed room of my aspire when dusk is done
Up on the hills where the emerald grass glistens with fulgent dew
while the epigraphs of my mental etchings sit here waiting for you
I want you to be you and I want me to be me so we can both be free
to share our joys and pains and know that we are human, equally
I want to write about a sky so blue, that every square of heaven sighs
poem after poem I will write about everything that grows and flies.
July 14, 2022
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8
Rooted on a moss-banked hill,
its branches spread far and wide.
By Summer's end, leaves veined gold and crimson.
Then, Autumn’s hand brushed them with russet paint.
Twas the time of year the elm tree despised.
Wind ruffled in their last days,
leaves danced as if burning flames,
until gales sent them tumbling to the ground.
Barren, as though in malaise, the elm stood.
Blame was cast upon harsh Winter weather.
Weeping for its naked limbs,
on a moss-banked hill it grieved.
For the change of season, it held loathing
and contempt for Nature's wrongful doing.
For surrounding its roots with drifts of snow
But on cusp of Spring's advent
tiny buddings will appear.
Branches will be clothed in fulgent raiment,
an umbrella agape, providing shade
for trilling songbirds in need of perching.
Reigning from atop the hill,
Ancient elm, regally frocked.
I dreamt a dream that renewed kindred memories
Rekindling past passions of moonlit love-themes,
Enamoring love-embers blooming heartfelt longings,
Crooning hints-romantic~ life’s a beauteous dream;
When merrily you enthralled me in springs of yore
Fetching yesteryears’ treasured keepsakes to fore
Lauding pages of albums seasons bygone adored
Reviving ardent allure, questing for love evermore.
I recognized fervid smiles of twinkles in your eyes
Tethered bashfully to arc of love on fulgent skies,
As together we watched winsome emotions climb
Inscribing on celestial canvas, halo of love sublime;
Just as Venus smiled and Moon winked impishly
When brilliant stars avowed~ forever we shall be,
And song of lark strummed of a mirthful morning,
Rising in paradise you envisioned for you and me.
Embraced in delight through night’s blissful fantasy
Inflaming love’s yearnings stoking endearing instincts,
Ascribing form and meaning to abandoned reveries,
Greeting me, you agreed~ life’s a beauteous dream.
October 6, 2022
Placed 1st: The Mystical Dream Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
The fulgent grace of your soul dazzles.
A tenuous foothold of a fragile love.
How could you love me so ardently?
Consider me treacherous and dreary.
A fierce fire burns my soul.
A life unquiet, never submissive.
Your gentle placid nature shines.
Quietly you ask: "Why do you love me?"
I hedge, cough, lower my head,
And retort: "How do you love me?"
She is sage, subtle and shrewd.
"As much as you allow me to."
My heart will wear the heaviness for years.
In lady like manner, she leaves,
never looks back, tall and graceful,
she walks down the main street
like a grand dame, much to my regret.
I deserve no better until I learn
the meaning of true love.
Life is strong and fragile. It’s a paradox… it’s both things, like quantum physics: It’s a particle and a wave at the same time. It all exists all together. —Joan Jett
Connotations of Life
Night birds and daydreams in Edenic oak tree.
The salty tongue and lullabye of beachy blue sea.
Rumination of childhood ‘neath honeysuckle sun.
Red, raw, fulgent, overcome by the heft of the sun.
The fruitless and barren virtuosity of Adam’s tree.
Catacombs and sawlike teeth squatting in the sea.
The thrill of tides, embraced by the bosom of the sea.
Flickering flame or blinding heat tempered by the sun.
Sanity climbing the boughs or crepitant branches of tree.
O tree keep me above uncanny sea; soothe me with the sun.
"Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." (John 20:29)
THE BLIND GIRL
(painting by JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS)
Let me lean into the light
feel the fulgent sun on my face
I came here to rest
for some time
before I go asking for alms again
They say we sing well
we sync well too
my sister and I
She's hiding inside my shawl
safe from all sorrows and stress
She says the sun is 'blinding'
To her maybe
As for me, it caresses and nuzzles
in a way nothing else can
The Spring breeze brushes me
as I fondle that sweet grass
Sometimes I grow 'green'
because I can't admire God's beauty
like you
but here, in the silence
I find peace
She says she can see
a double rainbow
I can feel its brilliant glow
The rain is past
and so is the darkness
It's time for the Sol
time for my soul to rise
Oh! Something stills me
A butterfly alights!
I am moved beyond words ~
A miraculous sign beyond sight
I clasp her hands closely
we're going to Winchelsea
with our concertina and chorus
"Pity the Blind"
But right now, right here
no one should pity me
I am sparkling with hope
the Light has found me
We're joyful together
We'll face any weather
As the cattle graze
and birds gather grains
'Forget-me-not'
Forget us not
We're here to leave an important imprint
an impactful impression
We ask and receive
daily divine blessings
Now, we can go on gospelling
dispelling fears through our hymns
The shimmer after the shower
refreshes and revives
Joy is found here
beneath the sun
beneath the rainbows
Love is where 'Light' is...
Stiff, stifling, arid air: snakes, lizards, sand,
and cactus. Scorched red rocks and baking skin.
My canteen empty in a barren land -
my romance landscape till first love walked in.
One summer evening under moon's cool beam,
the desert's xeric heat no longer cursed.
Lazing with friends. A pool... in walked my dream.
First glance: a tall, cool drink to slake all thirst.
Then as her eyes met mine, my blood ran warm.
My hand touched hers; both temp and pulse were raised.
In time, slow dancing - two bodies conform,
and with that first kiss, fulgent flames soon blazed.
The desert heat from which I'd just emerged
blithely returned, as first love's swelter surged.