Long Golden horizon Poems
Long Golden horizon Poems. Below are the most popular long Golden horizon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Golden horizon poems by poem length and keyword.
In a boundless night, I slip through the veils of undefined time,
where I glimpsed you as a star lost in an ocean of abyssal dreams,
in a silk delirium of shadows dancing ceaselessly,
where the golden horizon melts dreams into dawn, like fire melting brass.
With hands that have never touched you, I reached out like a bird to the sky,
whispering your name, a sweet echo in the unknown air of the heart,
and when you came, like a breath of wind bringing spring—
I did not lose myself in wonder, but felt the fullness of eternity.
I just sighed deeply, like a spring finding its way to the river,
as if I had waited for ages to immerse my soul in your presence,
the moment your steps enter my waking world, like a dance of spirits,
like an ancient longing finally fulfilled, like a story told by the wind.
The essence of time unravels into strips of light flowing like sand,
and I, a silent witness to this secret meeting, become part of the story,
I feel how silence turns to music and how each sigh is an eternal verse,
and how each sigh transforms into an eternal echo, like a call from the depths.
On the edge of the dream, your outline rises like a banner in the wind,
as natural as the sunrise embracing the mountains, a new beginning,
and I, a traveler between two worlds, recognize you as a part of me,
that was never lost, only hidden in the shadow of desire.
In silence the crimson sun has gone down
The twilight glimmer of the golden horizon
Holds the ashen hands of the night falling
Buds of stars sprout one by one shimmering
In satin sky
In serene sky
From the moonbeam fountain you alight
Glitter like the enticing sheen of starlight
I see you
I seek you
On the silver soaked beach of the cobalt sea
You walk in dulcet steps on the sonata of glee
I see you
I seek you
Surge of waves brings to shore strings of peals
Adorn your ivory feet with cadence of curls
From the moonbeam fountain you alight
Glitter like the enticing sheen of starlight
I see you
I seek you
An angel you walk in grace on the dream trail
Mystique face radiates aura behind stardust veil
You smile
For a while
You come dancing to embrace me so ardently
My heart beats like cascading stream of ecstasy
I hold you
I fondle you
From the moonbeam fountain you alight
Glitter like the enticing sheen of starlight
I see you
I seek you
I need
You
January 23, 2020
Contest : Sonata Lyrics
Sponsor : James Edward Lee Sr
Azure tongues lick sandy shores,
erasing steps, lovers trod.
And forgotten footprints fade,
while cascading waves applaud.
From a golden horizon,
sunbeams gild the edge of night.
And white clouds cluster below
a rising moon's saffron light.
But beauty goes unnoticed,
for passion has fled the scene.
And concealed behind despair,
love can no longer be seen.
Doubt has reared its ugly head,
destroying hope, yet again.
And two hearts split asunder;
letting anger mask their pain.
Forever-dreams unravel,
like they weren't meant to be.
And two lovers walk away;
their tears, absorbed by the sea.
Eventide’s splendorous motifs on blazing arc rise
Tinting golden horizon of glinting vermillion skies
Where setting sun inflames decaying gilded rays
As twilight glistens graying eve’s yellowing haze
And pewter winds rustle leaves, lilting meadows
Swaying hills of trees in rhythms of tilting shadows
Where bidding the day goodbye birds hastily fly
While enchanted in luminant sky people amble by
Reveling ebullience of nightfall glowing in moonlight
Dazzled by twinkles of stars lifting tenor of night
As nightingale’s love song enthralls nocturnal appeal
When orchestra plays above scintillating astral zeal
Quietude soon endows dreams of exuberant dawn
As the reign of moon and stars sparkles on and on
Till misty morn awakens to melodies of robin’s call
And sun rises again to walk the new day to nightfall
October 19, 2020
Placed 2nd: Collaboration with Silent One Poetry Contest
for
I
In the distance, the fading sun
bade adieu and slipped
behind the golden horizon;
the moon slowly sneaked
from behind the ivory clouds and
greeted the ebony night.
The shadows of the day became
those of the night; flickering
shadows of the ghost of our children.
In the darkness of mind their
whispering echoes are heard—echoes
from wandering spirits whispering—
that slaughtering murders of Emmett Till
and other ebony souls be not forgotten.
Now…in the dawning hours following low twelve…
the moon faithfully waits upon the returning sun.
Indeed, it is not so much that the moon waits for day,
rather it is the rising sun…in the presence of the moon…
that breaks cosmic shackles…setting a new day afoot…
Albeit this is the nature of things in nature, we cannot wait
for the return of that freedom only God can give;
no, we can’t wait for the wrinkles of justice to be ironed out.
In the midst of old anvils of injustice and racist creeds,
we must be as strong black hammers moulding destiny now.
So rise you mighty ebon liberating warriors; now is the time and
the time is now—today justice waits to be released from bondage.
“The colorful collage of nature’s marvels makes
a tapestry of vibrant delight”. Quote by Poet
The clumps of climbing cotton clouds float away,
brush the azure of the ashen summer sky.
The returning birds bathe in the blue bay,
in the amber twilight to the auburn nest they fly,
as autumn arrives with chromatic charisma on the sly.
In the lucent sunburst sky the golden horizon
splits the surreal sunbeam in spectrum of radiant rays,
the sparkle of hues from its palette colors the dawn.
Drooped down slender blades of fawn grass sway
in crisp air on the lap of meadow turning green from gray.
The pasture wears the crafted crown of topaz dew,
flickers with pearly flair of dawn’s chalcedony glow.
Lining the sun-splashed cinnabar garden path paved anew,
dry trunks of the sepia trees stand on the sienna soil fallow,
the crimson leaves rustle with autumn’s footfall slow.
The scarlet sunset sets fire in the fading satin sky,
makes a mesmeric collage of vermillion ember bright.
Soaking its cherry radiance I wait with spirit rising high
to greet the sapphire stars sprouting in pellucid autumn night,
draped by cerulean moondust I’m suffused with colorful delight.
This is a new golden horizon
This is a heavenlike season
Where everything is beautiful
And a serpentine rainbow looks wonderful
In the sky, in the heaven, in the air
Look! Countless birds are diving in the atmosphere.
This is a brand new season
This is a honeylike horizon
I wonder if this is a new spring
A new style to speak and to sing
Oh! I see. This is simply a new thing
A new genre to swing in the ring.
Hooray! Hooray! I am absolutely right
Everything will be alright, yes alright
No more sadness, no more pain
In spite of the surprisingly audacious rain
This is a heavenlike horizon
This is a new golden season.
There are countless rainbows in the sky
I cannot tell or invent a lie
This is a time to hope and to heal
And to come up with a new and better deal
Fire in the nerves, fire in the bloodstream
Look! Two fish are swimming in the golden stream.
Copyright © August 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
The clumps of climbing cotton clouds float slowly away,
brushing the azure spread of the end-summer’s ashen sky.
The returning birds bathe in the glimmer of the blue bay,
in the amber twilight gleam to the auburn nest they all fly,
as autumn arrives with chromatic kaleidoscope on the sly.
In the lucent edge of the sunburst sky the golden horizon
splits the surreal sunbeam in the spectrum of radiant rays,
sparkle of hues spilling from the palette colors the dawn.
Bowed down slender blades of fawn grass rise and sway
in crisp air on the lap of meadow turning green from gray.
The pasture wears the crafted crown of shining topaz dew,
flickering with the pearly flair of dawn’s chalcedony glow.
Lining the sun-splashed cinnabar garden path paved anew,
dry trunks of the sepia trees stand on the sienna soil fallow,
hear in the rustle of crimson leaves autumn’s footfall slow.
As the setting scarlet sun sets fire in the fading satin sky,
making a surreal collage of vermillion ember glowing bright.
Under its crimson radiance I wait with the spirit rising high
to greet the sapphire stars sprouting in pellucid autumn night,
soaking cerulean moondust I long to be suffused with delight.
August 26, 2021
NA In Contest : Kaleidoscope
Judged on : August 23, 2021
Contest : August 2021 Na's
Sponsor : Constance La France
Plan A:
Build the wall high; build it strong and thick.
Made of the strongest mortar and brick.
But leave the door open.
To vent evil out and keep goodness in.
I think the real problem exists.
With the Mexican government.
For hundreds of years, abusing its citizens.
I say march on Mexico City by the millions.
Wave freedom banners, Sierra Nevada high.
To take back your country-clean out the Stys.
Fight for your children - fight for your rights.
Prosperity and self-worth are on the golden horizon.
If that doesn't work, there is a plan B.
Tear down the wall; let everyone be.
No matter their background, no matter their intent.
Everyone deserves a third or fourth chance.
Let them in -Let them in - let them in.
As a matter of fact, tear down every wall.
Mingle cultures and races, we may just have a ball.
Or it might turn into history's biggest damn brawl.
A familiar aroma wafted towards me,
As I looked up into blue azure skies,
And far beyond, a golden horizon.
I could barely see the shapes of an old
Man holding a young child’s hand,
The man wore a long white robe
And was smoking a handcrafted
Pipe, and the spiraling smoke from it,
Triggered a memory, who was this man.
He didn’t speak much until
I asked him who the child was, He
Granted us a short encounter
The old man said,
So that you can briefly meet.
Tears rolled down my face
As I took the child
And held him tightly in my arms,
For an everlasting moment, a miracle!
We are your guardian angels he said,
Taking back my bundle of life,
And gradually disappearing with his
Charge, leaving behind a trail of smoke
The aroma of which was distinctly the
Tobacco my father smoked. My father
Holding my child's hand, his grandson
Who died when only five days old,
And whom I had never met,
Celestial beings permitted to appear,
And just as quickly disappear,
Their message I believe, that one day we
Would meet, in the presence of His love
Within the realms of heaven above.
Poem of the Day - 18.9.2021