Long Grows Poems
Long Grows Poems. Below are the most popular long Grows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grows poems by poem length and keyword.
(Dedication: For the PoetrySoup community of writers.)
Decree a fine write with a profound thought;
Engage a clear tact with mindset easy;
Agree to recite ideas that firm plot;
Reach timely such fact in puzzle set free.
Words float on paper like doodles that breeze;
Rich textures loiter to massage new feel;
Imprint of swagger in bold thought forms squeezed;
Time touching temper with voice that appeals.
Ignite sure motive with verses that line;
Notice the function that creates the play;
Give flow perspective in message aligned;
Spread subtle gumption in artistic sway.
Blend with sheer magic the writing you show;
Etch the dynamic in verse craft that grows.
Leon Enriquez
27 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This poem is an Acrostic Sonnet.)
The gilded flower grows astride the spring,
sweet with rain from the demise of the ice.
For every inch that hope grows, greed grows twice.
Intoxicated by the thrill, they sing,
And pay without thought for their wedding ring.
Such opportunity seen, as cold melts.
Ambitions reborn and lines spelt,
to put claims for oneself over everything.
My bones still ache from winter's cold embrace,
And I see her coming afar through time.
I know that future times will chill my face,
and see wisdom in shoring up the brace.
What luck that no men wish to save a dime!
So now I sell, tomorrow, win the race.
Written for "Petrarchan Sonnet" contest, sponsored by Craig Cornish
We'll meet at sunset, says my lovely Marcellina,
cuddling up to me so soft and warm.
When the glowing sun sets and paints the sky
with all the shades of vermilion hues.
As dusk descends on the carmine horizon
I betake myself to the lighthouse.
It is so pleasant tryst for me since I love to watch the beacon
as its flashes all the time, but especially during some stormy night,
where Stygian gloom blocks out the stars
and pitch darkness becomes tangible.
Oh how secure and safe and warm I feel.
For look, the sun fades fast, as dusk grows intensely into obscure pitch,
take the winding path along the shore
as the moon rises in the crepuscule of day,
throwing obscure shadows behind me.
An owl wisely remains silent while gulls utter occasional squawks.
A breeze wafts, spreading the scent of jasmines.
The warm of love is all around.
So to the lighthouse I softly wend,
attracted by its palpitating flash.
My heart is beating fast in anticipation
and know that Marcellina will be waiting there
beneath the Norway maple that adorns
the garden of the Italian guardian of the lighthouse.
We hug and kiss and murmur sweet nothings,
in harmony to the flashes that emanate
from the rotating top of the lighthouse.
So that even if the night is inky dark,
we know our love is lit with life saving light.
The spring was on the way
time for the farmer to plough
straight lines running parallel
gleaming in the rich red loam
It had laid all winter waiting
now it was time to sow and seed
yellow mustard glinting in the sun
so pretty as it grows in leaps and bounds
Little animals made their home
borrows in between the roots
even a dormouse always sleepy
soon they scurry off as harvest begins
Harvesters hard at work birds feasting
on those that were far too slow
crops are now gathered in and stored
the horses fallow the field now it rests
This spring the field will remain fallow
all part of the master plan of rotation
it's life is simple following a four year plan
to maximize each year's yield without stress
Following being fallow potatoes go in
these help clear the land of weeds
while adding goodness to the soil
then the golden wheat which the land depletes
Last to go in will be turnips for feed
completing a long term cycle of crops
If it could talk many tales it would tell
of all of the goings on within it's boundaries
Dedicated, a second time, to our beloved Connie.
At twilight, prismed skies unfold
Painting Earth in roseate light
Pastel hues brushed on clouds in flight
Pink threads woven with rays of gold
Marmalade fingers fade to peach
Sinking low, out of human reach
A sanguine sun nears dusk's threshold
Waves ripple with his last shimmer
Dazzling beams of sunset glimmer
'tween sea and sky, since ages old
He sleeps 'til each new day is born
And flowers sip the dew of morn
Earth is veiled by night and grows cold
Moon of pearl glows and stars glisten
Nightingales sweetly sing ~ listen
At twilight, prismed skies unfold
Pink threads woven with rays of gold
A sanguine sun nears dusk's threshold
'tween sea and sky, since ages old
Earth is veiled by night and grows cold
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Connie, your Constanza form is a gift to us all.
Not written for a contest, but to honor Connie Wong.
Submitted on 9/14/2022 To Mark Toney's Marathon Mile 14
There is no understanding love,
It comes where least expected,
desire alone does not create it,
only some unknown,
mesmerizing inner feeling
raises the heart
and embraces the soul.
It comes,
like drums of thunder,
blinds of lightning,
waves of tornadic winds
and it grows
upon reciprocation.
Love is quiet
and makes its way
with simplicity and openness
with honesty and sincerity
with dreams and hopes
waiting to be fulfilled.
Love knows no bounds
and grows with tender care and attention,
a garden for and of the heart,
a cascading waterfall of emotion,
a long awaited revealation,
for two to embrace and share.
Let us walk together
to a garden of flowers
beneath a clear
blue sky of spring weather
we will when we get there my love
while away time
sitting under cool shades
of sinuously swaying trees
as we listen to the mellifluous
harm of nectar sucking bees
and the enchanting songs
of flower birds and watch
as butterflies of all glorious
colors grace the place
and when we are deeply satisfied
I will pick for you the flower
most admired by bees,
flower birds and butterflies
and we shall walk back home
dreaming of love
which does not wither
as time grows old
with a vivid picture
of a never aging flower garden
painted on our minds
For My Charming Moonlight-I WANT A LOVE TO CALL MY OWN GOD ALREADY CREATED HER--
I want a love to call my own;
God already created her;
The widow is charming;
And so are you;
Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare;
The supply is short,
And so is your hair;
I want a love to call my own;
God already created her;
Magnolia grows;
With buds like beaten eggs;
Your line of beauty is thin;
And so are your legs;
Your looks are thoughtful;
And so are your eyes;
Stems are slender;
And so are your arms;
I want a love to call my own;
God already created her;
Sunlight shun on you so dazzling,;
And as so is your smile;
Your ever presents is here;
Please stay awhile;
Moonlight is beautiful;
Just like you darling I believe that I love you…
You are a love I call my own;
God already created you, for me I’m yours;
Oh, woman you are my charming moonlight;
I want a love to call my own;
God already created her, glory hallelujah;
3/13/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
As I age
the formerly wide chasm between ecstasy and despair
grows narrower,
deeper.
I had not thought this an attribute of maturation,
quite the contrary,
but perhaps an aging crevice,
a thinning fracture
between played-out manic bliss, over-extended harvest,
and depression
nondually faces two extremes
of positive major chords and keys
with negative minor tensions
searching for each other out and in,
become too vocal, focal
looking for tacit evidence
apposition yet lives
on another side
of this darkening
enlightening
divide.
Dr. Jeckyll's confluence
redeeming Mr. Hyde's dissonance
double-binding midway balance
now become a treacherously tight rope
tensioned for resonance and buoyant bounty,
just short of snapping side against side.
Perhaps wisdom is learning how to equitably co-invest
in both wonder and shock,
without becoming paralyzed in-between these boundless awes,
deep wavering yes and please not yet,
not yet,
carving a gorge
deep echoing sacred reverence
and secular irrelevance,
ecstasy with ridiculing despair,
boundless sufficiency without endless satisfaction,
reiterating eternal integrity
not yet surely promised
beyond potential disintegration.
If solitude portends sublime co-operation,
what remains for aching loneliness?
Who and what could become redeemed
through double-binding isolations
within voiceless awe
for wonder indwelling silent shock
of ego loss
deep shadowing eco-gain?
To win to lose,
to lose to win,
co-arising deceptions again.
Deeply resonant depressions;
subliminal,
suboptimizing ego dominations.
Two delineations
with hairline fracturing co-definition?
What would be blissful contentment's promise
without any dissonant content
for comparison?
What are omnipotent spirits
without ego vacuuming materials,
evidence of necessary,
hopefully sufficient,
deep double-binding awe
that we,
even I within we,
have been something,
someone,
someone's,
rather than the far more statistically likely
nothing at all
evermore.
I am here surrounded by
People of every shape and size
Skin color--disability
Why can't everybody see
We may be different from outside
Open your eyes, you will find
The similarities that we all share
Look closely--cause they are there
Red blood pumping through us all
Trying to stand, we sometimes fall
Fear anger and devotion
We can not hide these emotions
Hunger burns when we desire
Everybody has a fire
That grows from embers and ashes
Memories in our mind flashes
Recalling all sweet and bad times
Sometimes we can cross a line
But loved ones bring us right back
When we are about to crack
Tears, disgust, terror and hate
Are feelings we can all create
Greed and negativity
Are two things that shouldn't be
Part of who some people are
Sometimes it just goes too far
Racism and bullying
Two more hurtful ugly things
we need to try and delete
So everybody can defeat
The cruelty we can display
Are you hearing what I say
Knowing how alike we are
Should let us get very far
Uniting in joy and peace
This wrong view will stop and cease