Long Grande Poems
Long Grande Poems. Below are the most popular long Grande by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grande poems by poem length and keyword.
Just down the road, I keep on searching.
What must I do in this life, I keep on asking.
I almost lost myself in the middle.
The crossroads seem so misleading.
I walk down the road to take some fresh air..
But pollution surrounded my inner being.
The toxins penetrate deeply in my veins.
I'm grasping thin air, I'm suffocating!
I tried to move my feet in different directions.
The road is wide, inviting me to walk on.
Wasn't aware that it's just an illusion.
Trying to elude me from blazing temptation.
Just down the road I used to meet a various faces.
Some are painted with a smile,
Some are sad and hiding tears.
Some are part of grande masquerade.
I came to walk down to see what I've found.
A narrow walk path going down the aisle.
The wounded image of a man hung in the cross.
Lighting up the right way down the road.
** 5th Place in Kelly's Contest JUST DOWN THE ROAD**
Your life is at times hard and the noise from the
obnoxious crowd around you can be so painfully loud.
Performing music for a living is not what people
expect it to be and I know you must feel so tired.
It's understandable if things get rough and suddenly
you feel like you just want to hide from the crowd.
For all their trolling you still have inner beauty so
ignore the loud haters who boldly play in your face.
It's sad that so many low vibrational people all over
the world will claim to care and will start to judge.
But even if it hurts deep down the thing that they
don't know is their karma cannot replace your grace.
Even if I don't know you at all I sincerely wish you well
and I hope you keep singing your beautiful tune.
I hope you trust that there are kind-hearted people
all over celebrating you and hoping you get better.
You have never been wicked or cruel so I hope good
things happen to you between right now and next June.
Disclaimer: I wrote this for Ariana Grande after seeing a large number of online bullies and trolls mocking her struggles. She might not ever see this poem, and that's okay. The point I am making here is that regardless of public opinion, she is still a human being worthy of compassion and respect.
It's the festival of the hearts
It's the festival of the Poets
The wonderful celebration of Valentine's Day
Let’s solemnize with everything and nothing this day.
Let's revere the Big Day
All year long, every day
The season of love with beautiful flowers
And hugs. Let’s enjoy the happy hours.
It's the celebration of unity
It's the day to be our best and fancy
For the great evening of love and grandeur
Let's enjoy this beautiful day together.
Flowers are everywhere
Today we have everything
It's the carnival of lovers. With a bang
Let’s spread the seeds of love everywhere.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to all lovers.
Copyright © February 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
La Merveilleuse Fête De La Saint-Valentin
C’est la fête des cœurs
C’est la fête des fleurs
La merveilleuse fête de la Saint-Valentin
Pour célébrer on a besoin de tout et de rien.
Célébrons le grand jour
Pendant toute l’année
La saison de l’amour
Avec des fleurs en beauté.
C’est la fête de l’union
C’est le jour d’être mignon
Pour la grande soirée de l’amour
Célébrons ensemble ce beau jour.
Les fleurs sont partout
Aujourd’hui, on a tout
C’est la fête des amoureux
C’est la fête des gens heureux.
P.S. Ce poème est dédié à tous les amoureux.
Copyright © Février 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
I have for a woman
further love that thirst
shark for blood,
that the lion for flesh,
that piranha per body
alive ...
Love this woman with
further will than usury
for money ... which
fragile disappears, further i desire
that power that is strong and
never ends ...
My love is castle
stone, pyramid
colossal that no one
remove ...
My love for her, comes from
millennia, centuries ... and it will
exist forever ...!
Caminhos
Hoje e sempre
Existe
Existem muitos mapas...
O caminho é a
Atitude!
Então, recomece!
Volte sempre!
Siga sempre!
Comece sempre!
Ame o que faz
Faça sempre
um pouco a mais.
continue tendo valentia e coragem...
Para sonhar grande e
Alcançar o que quer que deseje.
De segunda até sábado
– Tudo para você Encantar, Surpreender e Prosperar.
Tudo sobre Economia do Relacionamento –
Economia 4.0
E áudio e vídeo e para Imprimir!
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O que as vendas diretas podem fazer por você
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http://bit.ly/110mil_Braços_Abertos_Ocupação_Renda
All French cakes are delicious, better
The “ Amandier” and its subtle nuts taste in the mouth,
The “Paris-Brest”, with its sweet praline cream,
Rum Baba, with its sweet taste of liqueur,
The “tarte aux fraises” and its sweet red fruits,
The “Saint Honoré” and his little “choux à la crème”
The “ Commisaire” and his subtle pistachio aroma,
All French cakes are delicious,
« L’éclair au chocolat ou l’éclair au café »
The “ tarte au citron” et son savoir faire ,
The “Pithiviers” and its awesome frangipane,
All French cakes are delicious, better
the “ Framboisier” and its light pastry cream,
The “ Forêt Noire” with its chocolate and sour cherries,
All French cakes are delicious,
My nice dad was a pastry chef, Sunday were brilliant….
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux, mieux
L’amandier et son goût subtil dans la bouche,
Le Paris-Brest, avec sa douce crème pralinée,
Le Baba au rhum, avec son gout sucré de liqueur,
La tarte aux fraises et ses fruits rouges sucrés,
Le Saint honoré et ses petits choux remplis de crème,
Le commissaire et son subtil arôme de pistache,
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux,
L’éclair au chocolat ou l’éclair au café,
La tarte au citron acidulée de tendresse,
Le Pithiviers et sa frangipane de grande fête,
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux, mieux
Le Framboisier et sa crème pâtissière légère,
La forêt noire avec son chocolat et ses cerises aigres,
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux,
Mon gentil papa était pâtissier, brillait chaque dimanche….
alternate long worded title – the grudge holder from one generation to the next for all intents and purposes remains the same, and thus interestingly enough, they can easily be a pinch hitter for man, woman, and/or child feeling resentment since dawn (or eventual dusk) of civilization and dominant species experiences discontents.
Hotmail outlook grim, viz beholding
warp and woof reconciliation,
at social gatherings time and agin
mass elf listened to threnody
inducing dot bin
reiterated within earshot,
when this then mortal mwm
clocked LVIII Earthlinked
round the sun, while he
tugged hairs on
his chinny chin chin
now clearly informs thyself,
how genealogical
weave incorporating din
gee, holey, bunched
gaps rendering incomplete
thine quilted worm,
and moth eaten
delicate webbed weave
thread bare fabric
evinces absent majority descendents,
not more'n two generations past
equally substantially rotten produce
junction bore inquisitiveness
upon approaching mine
middle adult existence
details known istenig to WXPN
I whiz a boot
thirteen (NOT shoesize),
benchmarked with virulent yen
twittering, snapchatting, instagramming
Bugaboo gainsaid, infiltrated subUrban
bedroom and kindled pinterest the
reddit lee making me
an outcast with Penny
Sylph Vanya (amidst prickly
Poker Flats of
Lake Woebegone), when
trumpet call to
erect an invisible
omnipotent fence still
did not obstruct hearty ten
to cros the Rio Grande
among strong men
many sharing first name Sven
purportedly related moost every one
placed when newborn among
one of many scattered orphan
(deliberate poisoned, sans scorpian
subsequently kid
napped by vested gentry,
who shared microscopic strands
plus CRISPR DNA
compliments of Ken
and Barbie, nonetheless forced
as stoop labor for
7 Versos Livres
Crença
O meu e o Seu coração
pode assumir qualquer forma:
1. Um prado para gazelas,
2. Um claustro para monges,
3. Um bálsamo para doentes
4. solo sagrado para crentes.
O credo do coração
é amor;
presente onde quer
que seu caminho se desvie.
Isso é a crença do coração
a fé do coração.
************
Morrer para renascer
Sempre pergunte:
"Estou pronta para
mudar a minha vida,
estou pronta
para me mudar?”“.
Em qualquer idade
seja o que for que passamos,
é sempre possível renascer.
************
Dificuldades, Problemas e Erros Linguísticos
A maioria
das Dificuldades
e dos problemas do mundo
deriva de erros linguísticos
e simples mal-entendidos.
Evite os erros:
nunca tome palavras pelo valor de face.
Quando você entra na zona do amor,
a linguagem como a conhecemos
se torna obsoleta.
Aquilo que não pode ser colocado
em palavras
só pode ser compreendido
através do silêncio.
************
Ecos da montanha e o mundo
Este mundo é como uma montanha.
Seu eco depende de você.
Se você gritar coisas boas, o mundo vai devolver.
Se você gritar coisas ruins, o mundo vai devolver.
Fale sempre o bem.
Seja grata.
Mude seu coração para mudar o mundo.
************
Passado e Futuro
O passado é uma interpretação.
O futuro está na ilusão.
O mundo não se move no tempo
procedendo do passado
para o futuro.
O tempo passa através
e dentro de nós,
em espirais infinitas.
A eternidade é intemporalidade.
Se quer experimentar
a iluminação eterna,
coloque o passado
e o futuro
fora de sua mente
e permaneça no momento presente.
Assim,
Vai criar um grande futuro
Hoje.
************
Onde procurar
Onde procurar o céu
e o inferno no futuro.
Acredite:
ambos estão agora presentes.
sempre que conseguimos amar sem expectativas,
amar sem cálculos,
sem negociações,
estamos de fato no céu.
Sempre que brigamos,
Ou odiamos, estamos no inferno.
************
Pacienciar
O que significa
pacienciar?
Significa
olhar para o espinho
e ver a rosa,
olhar a noite
e ver o amanhecer.
Impaciência significa
ter visão curta
e não ver a fruta
na semente.
Pessoas bem resolvidas
Pacienciam e
sabem que o tempo
é necessário
para que a lua crescente
se torne plena
a semente crie frutas.
The anatomist’s delight,
or his dilemma?
Yes, she is...
Odalisque...
how could she be less than perfect?
Surely Ingres didn’t get it wrong
when he painted her nude flesh
so voluptuous as to be tactile,
reclining oh so languid
on her left side,
alone in this exotic
blue velvet draped room,
looking directly at me
over her right shoulder,
betraying nothing
of her inner dialogue.
She’s aware of my presence;
how could it be otherwise?
Surely she must feel the heat
of my rapt voyeur’s stare
on her sinuous, sensuous back.
Which brings me to the issue of anatomy,
the facts of her body.
According to anatomists
who’ve given long hours
to the study of her bones,
hidden though they may be,
she’s spectacularly deformed.
You see, her head is too small,
her neck too long,
her arms aren’t the same length
(the left is shorter than the right),
she has five extra lumbar vertebrae
that twist her spine
into an impossible relationship with her pelvis,
thereby rotating her lower body
so as to enhance her porcelain sexuality.
Speaking strictly for myself in this matter,
I couldn’t care less about the facts.
I’m delighted that art trumped science,
that reality can be elongated, rotated,
and manipulated to achieve perfection.
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jean_Auguste_Dominique_Ingres,_La_Grande_Odalisque,_1814.jpg
submitted into "Premier VII Open Poetry Contest," Rob Carmack, Sponsor
ARRIVING AT EL PASO © Sara Etgen-Baker 2025
Some 20+ years ago, hubby and I took up roots, moving across the entire state of Texas for the hope of a better future. This poem attempts to capture my initial thoughts upon our arrival. (Yes, our future was better.)
The road, a ribbon of asphalt, unfurls beneath my tires,
each mile a memory, each turn a question—
what does it mean to arrive?
The sun dips low, casting long shadows over the desert,
here the horizon bleeds into the sky—
a canvas of ochre and rose.
The Franklin mountains rise like sentinels.
I wonder what pilgrims have crossed these rugged trails,
what hearts have beat against the same blazing sun.
The air is thick with dust and promise,
the scent of sunbaked earth
mingling with the faintest trace of rain.
Dust dances in the twilight,
and I am caught in the rhythm of it all,
the pulse of this border town.
El Paso, where the Rio Grande river flows,
a silver ribbon dividing yet uniting
two cultures, two languages, two countries.
I stand here in the embrace of El Paso,
feeling the weight of possibility and
the quiet promise of tomorrow.
Twilight descends, stars emerge~
tiny pinpricks of light
against the deepening blue.
I am a traveler in a world,
one that feels both foreign
and achingly familiar.
The weight of arrival settles on my shoulders—
not just a place, but a moment,
a step into the warmth of a new beginning.
Alas, I am a sojourner, a seeker of stories
finding my way in this city of
bridges, border crossings, and arrivals.