Long Iced Poems
Long Iced Poems. Below are the most popular long Iced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Iced poems by poem length and keyword.
Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins;
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs
A whisper soft, frozen blossom
Holds fast in winter, quite awesome,
A petal frail, a tender hue,
Vies beneath a sky of iced blue.
The breath of frost, a gentle kiss,
Preserves it from getting amiss,
No sunbeam warm to urge it forth,
Just white shroud to conserve its worth.
It dreams of spring, a distant hum,
Of buzzing bees and days to come;
But now it sleeps, a silent grace,
Awaiting sunbeams in the space
The branches bare, stretched quite apart ,
Guard secrets held within its heart;
A promise kept, a silent vow,
To await sunshine until now.
It waits to shed its icy guise,
Open wide beneath the blue skies
And share its scent, a sweet perfume,
Awakened from its frosty room.
This frozen blossom, patient soul,
Submits to winter as a whole,
But in its stillness, strength resides
As sweet nature's gracious rhythm guides.
A testament to life's design,
A beauty that will surely shine
As sleeping seeds awake from sleep
When melting snow begins to creep.
It waits with hope, a hidden fire,
Fulfilling nature's deep desire
To burst in blossom`s vibrant sight,
And bathe the world in pure delight.
Nature`s lesson of true patience,
Frozen blossom sparks resilience:
The frost may bite, the wind may blow,
But beneath, life sustains its flow.
There are simple pleasures in country things,
Hayrides and harvesting in the epoch of fall.
In the season when leaves fly with golden wings.
Porches where folks strum on guitar strings,
sharing iced tea and fond memories enthrall.
There are simple pleasures in country things.
Upon a fence, a tendrilled morning glory clings,
Purple blooms climbing on a white-washed wall.
In the season when leaves fly with golden wings
Feeling northerly winds this time of year brings.
Watching flocks fly south in answer to time's call.
There are simple pleasures in country things.
Swaying on hammocks or old wooden swings,
dancing a two-step and voices speaking in drawl.
In the season when leaves fly with golden wings.
Living a good life much richer than great kings,
and waiting for snow that nature cannot forestall.
There are simple pleasures in country things,
in the season when leaves fly with golden wings.
11/03/2022 ~ Third Person Villanelle Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
A great idea for a local and very pretty tea that costs nothing to make, and comes with the added pleasure of a walk in the fresh air on a lovely day, gathering gorse along the way! You will need thick gloves as gorse stalks are thorny. Gorse flowers can be picked and used fresh in spring to produce a wonderfully aromatic flower tea. Put two tablespoons of fresh gorse flowers in a small teapot (serves 2). Make sure to give them a little squeeze first to bruise them, to help release the flavour. Leave to infuse for 7-10 minutes & then strain & serve. Just as nice as an Iced Tea as it is as a hot cup of tea. Gorse flowers can be dried for later use. If using dried flowers, use one tablespoon instead of two. Another way to enjoy Gorse Flower Tea, if you are short on time, is to make your usual cup of tea, let it cool just a little, then add a dash of Gorse Flower Syrup.
Source: goodfoodireland.ie site.
magnificent drink
aromatic gorse flowers
marvelous hot tea
How many poets
pen of the moon?
That darling white
blob, though
A bit of a snob!
Just appears at
only at night!
We adore him,we
give him might?
Does a man really live
on the moon?
Who started that
insane fable?
Would like to
share some of my
best iced Ouzo...
With him across,at
my kitchen table!
8/22/@2021
1
What is a woman, but of age;
Beauty and warmth, cool as iced summer lemonade;
A vision of loveliness, equip with heaven bless;
With a nurturing demeanor conquer of things most men imagine;
Softly caressing caring for children soothes them with a kiss;
And the depth of her hair tells of the stories she shares;
Given warm silky milk from the dish of complex;
What is a woman, taken from a man;
and alas does this make him half a man
does it make her a whole wo-man
WA hat is a woman taken from a man;
a soft curve figure was all in God's plan;
A performance of inspired inspirations created in the heavens;
I won't take down on this;
is what a woman is?
A beauty yet stern;
A nurturer yet firm;
a mother/grandmother;
A respected believed person;
Taken from the rib of Adam;
That is what a woman is.
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Dec 5 2014 From " Celebrate: A collection of Writings about Women"
Based on the famous painting..."The Naked Maja"
~A Fantasy~
Within Her Memory-All of This Lives
Lying naked with him
in summers’ heat.
Iced lotus tea...in blue frosted
glasses.
“Sweetheart,”she sighed “what
a treat!"
Plus watermelon and mint on
crystal plates?
He made her heart, much faster
beat.
Reading her poetry by Kahlil
Gibran!
Sexy man, time you turn that
fan on?
A picture of herself, soft~
like the “Naked Maja!”
Was lovely, in her straw hat....
gorgeous!
The color of deep brown Kava.
She cherished that picture of that
steamy moment in time .
When she was yours and times,
divinely sublime!
She thinks of the child they created~
And lost, and mourned together.
May her infant soul be in heaven,light
and crystalline, as a feather.
As frames in pictures, they kissed in
both sun and the rain.
When they parted, clouds brought her
an ombré, on-going pain.
His twinkling hazel eyes, she still
does see.
And, oh, how she misses him, so zealously!
8/5/2021
~1~
DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE EMOTIONAL ISSUES
I was born in a land far, far away called... home.
Not yet still-born.
A place of iced mountain mazes,
that were once warm, like an oasis of blessings,
featured.
Life, overlooking question marked plains,
where the grass is green and the wind, wild
and unfiltered.
Where adventure and path was half-balanced,
teetered.
Hung on the Horizon like the Moon in High Holy Day
in shift phase-,shifting phase-shift,
of the nurtured.
Still, a Banshee Howling; a Temptress-Whore,
lifting all protocol of the Hunt, "About Face."
Her *** breathe,-iced gossamer-
lining a sarcophagus
below the succession-chain pyramid
of gathered slaves', witness.
Whipped foam in sheet-layers
of emotional-strata denied
by iced Earth and Zombie Tomb.
Society will have its sheep and its shepherds.
Voices do cry in the Wilderness.
Echoes cracked in the darkessphere.
None. The less. The lesser.
An hourglass-of-open-window- shards,
the- daylight-stained-looking-glass-
piercing-the-veil-of-dusks-Sovereign-Sentencing.
The chill of my spine, her memory.
A promise of reunion as she smirks back
with puzzle-encrypted messages.
My Home went away from me,
to re-address ceremonies' garb.
With flinty eyes that bore witness to an empty womb.
Was it me?
The Banshee Howling:
I lived in a house of glass
in a place forbidden to ever be seen. To ever be..
The mirrors promise reflected a lonely,
loveless woman.
Her beauty was too perfect to be real.
She was the one who left me.
To search for better things on these Streets.
To a place called none.
She was gone, but her memory lingers on. For me, the Sonic Howling. The memory of her...
A Banshee Howling; The memory of our union,
reunion, re-toothed in cold steel.
Of ritual, undoing, dung.
The premise : I was unborn in a far-away place
where the grass has never been.
Never was real. A holo sonogram. Life's hologram. The mirror's tear.
Just a shadow, of one teasing shades
of cruelty of what could, has, not wanted. Here?
There? No more? There there. No more tears.
JOURNAL OF THE DEPRESSED *****
CHAPTER 1 (I'll be over you)
How it really feels to be me.
On bad days which seem like everyday,
The blue pen slips between my fingers,
rattles on the floor, off to bed I am, no linger.
breeding emotions that feast on my mind,
one hate Leech, two love bugs
and three years alone, but no longer.
as I lay on my bed and run through the games
played by steroid hearts in chiseled packs,
I lay on my side and never look back
or regret my past,
though bitter and iced
with every thing not nice,
I choose to remain the same
tears roll from my eyes and
I drown in their lies
of a stretched blue sky with
a castle on pink clouds,
rainbow arcing a roof, touching our hearts.
baby, he'd say, just us two, but look out!,
there's a fiery dragon of
"you are not good enough"
I can't save you, so I'll wander off
wit the us I got you,
I'll take it
along with your dreams
of me and you.
There he went,
to be another's prince on my white horse,
shameless!, the heavens spit on you,
with meteors and unreturned loves.
Black snow rain on you!
I yell from across the room
as the sound of banged door lull me to sleep.
then I dream of you,
how badly I wanted every moment back,
replayed as drama, with you and I as leads,
riding on horses' backs,
but they despised me,
shook their behinds across my mind,
and wandered off, like they never teased me.
made me look like a moment pervert.
but I will wake,
shake till my head becomes straight,
I'll wash my face,
till those clouds fade away,
I will remember you
and I'll learn to forget too,
it's easy to say,
but much more rewarding to do.
Babe! I'll be over you.
Twas the night before Christmas in Jamaica, Queens,
I was out shopping in my Jordache jeans.
The last minute shoppers were out in full bloom;
The buses and trains were packed with no room.
Money was flowing like a glass of iced tea;
The weather is cold--so let's make it coffee.
I didn't have much time to shop till I drop.
I had to buy gifts for Mom and Pop:
My sisters, my brothers, my aunts and nieces;
My brother and sister-in-law--I'm falling to pieces!
My uncle, my nephews, and also my wife,
Who happens to be the love of my life.
I arrived at the mall with only one mission:
Buy the gifts and get out without collision.
This is what shopping is all about:
Get in, get the gifts, and get the heck out.
Does this man have enough power
To complete this task in less than an hour?
I'm inside the mall, and what did I spy?
There were really groovy things to buy.
There is a PlayStation 4 and video games,
A totally awesome DVD movie called "Fame";
The soundtrack to "Kim Possible" and "That's So Raven";
And a funny musical called "Still Misbehavin'".
There are remote control trucks and cars;
Seasons 1 & 2 of "Veronica Mars";
Brand new clothes and a camera phone;
Time's running out! I must hurry home!
I grabbed a cart and breezed through the aisles;
Because this task will take a short while.
The shopping was done, but there's one thing to do:
Pay for the stuff and I'm finally through.
The lines were getting longer; my vision was blurry,
I had to get out of the mall in a hurry.
There was a shorter line--what a relief!
I told you this task would be very brief.
I drove away with the gifts in my car,
Paid in full, and ate a chocolate bar.
Now listen to me as I disappear:
Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy New year.