Long Glistened Poems
Long Glistened Poems. Below are the most popular long Glistened by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glistened poems by poem length and keyword.
Birds flew among the old oak trees
Savoring melody in the breeze.
Last night, it rained hard and the air was cleared.
Shining vivid leaves glistened,
Few fell, colorful lawn.
A small sweet deer ambled downwards the winding path.
Towards a small clear pond it ambled in great awe
My whole being at least a consolation hath,
Seeing it have a bath and play and then it saw
among floating leaves
tadpoles in shimmering waves . . .
beware the ducklings
17 September 2020
For Constance La France's "Writing challenge, nature - four in one" contest
Placed 3
Since early childhood I was aware of my sorroundings;
looking around with the interest of a grown-up man,
waiting for the golden sunrise with rosy streaks
to rise from beyond the Paterno Mountain...
to dazzle a southern boy with vivid dreams.
The clock-tower, in the Fallen Soldiers memorial square wreath-adorned,
stroke seven to announce the coming of a quite day
in a valley, where orange blossoms strongly perfumed
welcoming spring in all its daintiness and cheerfulness...
as shallows retuned home flying over pines groves covered with gray.
My chestnut-colored hair was gently brushed by a whimsical breeze,
spreading the scent of jasmine's bushes wilting down;
that's where robins took shelter when the summer sun
was at its hightest peak and trees glistened and swayed to please
a curious and adventurous southern boy with vivid dreams.
Ever wondered how I had gotten to be an elaborate poet in childhood days,
exploring everything to express myself in the most unique ways?
It was love of Nature and its splendor breathed in with appreciation
that made me who I am today, and wiping away the tears of golden age,
I feel the fanthom of my presence wandering down a silent lane swarmed with sage.
Night came with willowy shadows, carrying out their nocturanl task...
not to frighten me, but to bring the brilliance of gleaming stars so perfectly aligned;
and I dreamed with relief, knowing that there would be no endless wait
to be overwhelmed with a mystery only revealed to a child with vivid dreams.
I looked further above, beyond the stunning, starry sky as the brightest light shined.
The country I am writing about is Italy
The beloved Queen of Hearts was a merry queen, who'd ever loved to bake;
Like confetti midnight stars, sparkling; or the yellow, noon sun, wide awake.
She baked myriad varieties of cookies, and delicious pies of different kinds;
And also scrumptious cakes, so divine. Like pure gold, tinted rainbows find.
The king had a cheerful disposition, too, but betimes could be quite stern;
Like the scarlet blossoms, which fail to thrive, before floriculture is learned.
Faithful friends became part of the many faceted court, like tinted bubbles,
Fancy dressed, and as vital to royal felicity, as a jade rose, with no troubles.
Forthright family were familiar at court, in the fleet, peregrine falcon days,
Fast-forwarding to fabled, fruity tomorrows, and to fitful, spiced, solar rays.
They lived in the house of green ivied walls, in the royal, emerald summer;
When golden sun visited almost every room, eager to touch a world of color.
Silver maples touched sapphire skies, on their street of red, sweet Williams,
Edged by creamy sand, where the surf came, onto teal, foaming, pavilions.
Nighthawks and wild wood anemones, were neighbors, bestowed by nature;
In nameless, never-ending, silvery hours. Red butterflies, loved floral flavors.
Heart tomatoes adored the orange sun, when wood ear mushrooms listened;
And Canterbury Bells plants were ringing, by roses whereon dews glistened.
Toad lilies stared in bug-eyed fascination, at the searing season of surprises;
And Billy Button blooms were getting dressed, as skies split in colored slices.
'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer's day;' a Friday.
But alas, 'The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, And took them clean away.'
When purple even arrived, 'The King of Hearts called for the tarts,' in a roar.
The lad relished sweets, but the king was mad, 'And beat the Knave full sore;'
'The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.'
The kindly queen quietly quipped, 'After all, the boy has never stolen before!'
The King of Hearts was returned to good humor, and that lad kept his word;
And was back in favor, like pink spring tulips, or a song of blue mockingbird.
Time is a funny thing, sometimes it goes fast and sometimes very slowly. As a child Christmas seemed to never come, the months drudged by. Then Christmas morning finally arrived, only to be over before it got started. Like a bright shinny new diamond, the lights on the tree glistened. Precious as a new diamond, was family and gifts under the tree. A diamond is cherished, so are great memories.
Date Written: 6/10/2023
A Diamond of Time Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
THERE GOES THE LOOKING GLASS
Ae. Nelson
There goes the looking glass
It's shattered and yet serene
The queen's out of business
The dwarves look really mean
There's snowy and a mountain
Yet the ride was really long
The apple and the eye drops
Were in tears that said belong
The house was simply empty
With no wolf, no cubs and bare
With grandma in the oven and
The twin kids are always there
A garden has a no one all alone
The live and love was never distant
With crystal balls and constant calls
Always near and closer to a phone
A goose was gone by morning
And the eggs were in the fry
Yet gold and glean glistened
With an always simply in a try
Then the story turns to ashes
Yet a magic steals the shown
In a queen who saw a vision
Of just two or three to know
So a capture for the moment
Is in a picture that's not a tale
In a fable that was not so funny
In an ending of a happy or a well
Yet it's jack be quick who listens
With all the candles and no flame
Simply for the reason in a many
Yet really just two or three to name
“I want to be alone… with someone else who wants to be alone.” – Dimitri Zaik
I was born an introvert,
misplaced in an extroverted garden.
Mother's cocoon,
which once kept me safe and warm,
now left me exposed to
green-eyed predators,
who stole my fluorescent fragility.
Is it any wonder that in adolescence,
my heart resembles red glass,
which can shatter at the slightest betrayal,
bleeding in crushing, harlequin drops.
In between the silence of heartbeats,
there was a demonic darkness,
plaguing the scent of my honeysuckle aura—
making me feel an imperfection of ugliness.
Until a vision of a celestial silhouette,
appeared in evergreen ethereal tones.
His smile glistened like tender
pearls of white, seducing
my senses speechless.
I am like a drop of rain upon
his petals of orchid glory.
I know there will be monsoon seasons,
erratic elements harassing my presence,
among his poetic prestige,
yet, I yearn to be
the one,
who is forever enthroned by
his emerald eminence.
Rolled out of bed
Kissed the woman I wed
Made sure the dog was fed
Then strolled over to visit Farmer Fred
Fred I said, “Charlie Kirk is dead!”
Freds eyes glistened, and his face turned red
He grabbed his bible and from it he read
(Jeremiah 5:21)
Hear this, You foolish and senseless people,
Who have eyes but do not see,
Who have ears but do not hear:
He paused a moment, scratched his head
Flipped some pages, continuing he read
(Revelation 21:8)
But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable,
As for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolators
And all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns
With fire and sulfur, which is the second death.
He closed his bible and bowed his head
This was the prayer that Fred said
Dear God,
Please open our eyes so we might see
Please open our ears so we might hear
Grant us the courage and faith to stand against
Murderers, sorcerers, idolators, and liars
Free our land from sexual immorality
Keep us from being detestable in your eyes
Provide us wisdom so we might discern and test
The spirits that come to us in our day
Teach us how to recognize good fruit
For grapes are not gathered from thorns
Or figs from thistles
I ask this in the name of our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ
Amen
I stared at Fred just for awhile
Then I inquired with a smile
The political divide in our country is wide
Both sides accuse the other of lies
“It’s hateful to disagree with me”
Is the mantra I so often see
Which side is right and which is wrong?
How are we to all get along?
Fred flashed me his famous wink of the eye
Then he made this cryptic reply
Peoples minds have to change
Everyone thinks they know who’s to blame
Here is a test one might apply
If you found when you read this epistle
It made your mind begin to bristle
You are the problem and you need to change
You are the one whose mind is deranged
The deceiver of man is your greatest fan
For he is guiding your political plan
The eventide sun descended on the garden
where you blossomed on my engaging arms.
The patina of the unfurled rose bud glistened
on your succulent crimson lips in lively luster,
pressed so passionately on mine, infused.
The soft touch of the gossamer lips of petals
seemed like the melody of the shimmering dew,
resonating in the flushing meadow of my heart.
The kiss took me on the edge of the stilled time,
sent silent waves of euphoria in me, enthralled.
Floating on the fragrant breath of your lure
I got the taste of lust in the curve of yearning lips.
Your lilac temptation stoked my flaming desire,
turning my craving into radiant ember of love,
in its glow I feel the relic of the first kiss, engraved.
December 20, 2019
Overgrown With Vines
Three meatless, boney, fingers clawed
at the hard dirt, glistened in the emptiness,
cursed the damnation of the full moons lie.
Death and the shallow grave had come quickly
a sharp metal edge the instrument of both.
The vines, the ever growing, ever reaching
strangling vines had come much slower,
clutching and grasping the remnants
of an unexamined death.
He had fought them, the vines,
struggled to raise a hand, to signal
the intruders of his silent hell.
Slowly he succumbed to his fate
gave up the ghost of justice delayed
relaxed into the dirt and stone
accepted the anonymity of a life
the ignominy of a death
overgrown with vines.
9/29/2016
submitted to – Overgrown With Vines – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Broken Wings
Some Glimpses of childhood Memories
The town where I grew up seems much the same
Its many features yet retained
Still central fountain that caresses the sky
Its hazy droplets against the winter dregs of sun
Gone, the regiment of poplars that shaded the green
Gone their sinewy boughs that claimed the bright
And at the head a red bricked hall
That governs and oversees it all
New Morrisons nestles to one side
A steady human trickle to color its doors
I lived at Campers Road where terraced housing still exists
A council house domain when in its prime
I poked sticks in pavement tar with fascination
And wondered about its composition
The chalked insult scrawled upon the path
Removed by soapy water enforced by parent
Written because she rode her bike across our yard
Its final remnants ‘Mrs Knot is a snot’ now fully gone
The same old store stands across the narrow
Where handy for forgotten items to obtain
But gone the candy shop beside
And in its place a show of artefacts to see and buy
No more the jar line up of colored sweets
To tempt wide eyed children into its confines
Across the road a spinney existed
Where entangled undergrowth harbored climbing trees
And in the center the finest enchanted tree
Spread its woody arms in welcoming pose
Sap glistened from its spiral hollows
While light between the parted clouds alighted on its verdant leaves
Now further to brave a walk beyond the hump backed bridge
Where swings abound in a field
And I could see above the clouds
And flee to other worlds afar.
And dream of what was to become
Across the town exists the pits
Where flooded lakes mask dug out holes
And there to while the day by azure blue
To watch the ripples embrace the skeletal crane
Corroded wreck that bore the deluge