Long Implores Poems
Long Implores Poems. Below are the most popular long Implores by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Implores poems by poem length and keyword.
Rebirth
Grey ghostly clarions
Swiftly travel
To the east of darkling day
Riding on a dirge wind
Blowing harsh
Over waters that reflect
The fading dawn
When they turn to blood red,
Glowing crimson,
As they color the vast and swirling grey
Trumpeting to the earth,
With light retreating,
The call of night
Where black and twisting tree limbs
Stretch
Into the clarion sky
To grasp at daylight fleeing
While through their naked
Leafless fingers
Arias of monotones
Rise up on whistling winds
As unbelieving earth implores
The gloom descending,
With feeble lights,
Be gone!
Then wait beneath the clarion shadows
Entombed in sleep –
Still as death, chilled and numb –
For the morning star to spread
Like warm fingers
Across the ghostly clarions
Turning them into the daystar’s turquoise pearl,
Telling lightless earth
“Arise!”
See life reborn in light!
A dead tree looks like a stone
Of thousand years black, fissured and tan-faced,
But still no hopes to fall down:
The secret is that she holds the invisible
Beauty steady and faithful.
Although she is dead by body but
Still alive in her warm sighs of beauty.
To make the unseen beauty visible,
You've to be poetic.
The body is reduced to ashes some day
But beauty never perishes.
Between a dead tree and a mother
I find a sweet simile!
When a mother holds a pen
The world comes to her feet,
And implores to be her slave.
Mother is a such a subtle flower
That blooms through all the year.
Mother is a wax
If someone good or evil
Comes to her, he or she becomes
Liquefied by her warm.
Mother is a blooming lotus in the nectar,
But that ambrosia becomes poisonous
When a hornet stings the lotus.
Literature isn't possible bare mother-
Even, except her there is no identity of father,
What we are today!
What we were yesterday!
And what we shall be-
All credit goes to mother: the symbol
Of all women.
The American Library Association
implores cognoscenti tubby alert
impersonators, who
call themselves Ernie and Bert
took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,
(who worked for Peanuts),
and pay-dirt, though
dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous
sordid details suppressed kept from press,
(which scurrilous breach of conduct
involved said scallywag
violating more than flirt
discovered in prurient compromised activity,
where his skin flute encircled,
with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected
public television station benefactors,
and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly
to make a profit sounding proper
sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
asper faux expected by
a "FAKE" trumping prophet,
sans motley crue comic
stripped of more'n
motion picture PG ratings,
hence future lurid, graphic,
banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
muted, disallowed, and banned
so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
(who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
returning amidst fanfare hoopla
much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
glory and apple pie order land
ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
and horrifyingly
brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
whereat armed guards
strategically stationed
at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable
ravishing knowledge
hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
faster then Clifford
the big red dog speed!
Thus do I clutch the water surface fading
cold sun in mocking hide behind the trees
while weariness implores - give up, surrender
as I refuse to fall down on my knees
life becomes the scoundrel of the moment
clawing at the hope there’s something there
an emptiness consumes and then fulfills me
releasing all the torment that I bear
so do the depths grow darker in this coldness
this crushing fear that there is nothing more
yet I struggle vainly for redemption
without the help of gods I still deplore
as Death concedes to dawn’s sober awak’ning
a light that spares the life that It was taking
John G. Lawless
©8/14/2022
When driving in Colorado or Nevada,
where twilight crimson rays on canyons burn,
into ancient layers of blood red strata -
on crooked roads, don't take the wrong turn.
They say, in these parts, a lonesome cowman's spirit
every evening returns
to this despairing place or somewhere near it,
just as the blazing sun adjourns.
For a century his heart was laden,
since his proposal was coldly spurned
by a cruel, but lovely maiden;
and since then his heart has yearned.
The canyon's winds can chill you to the core -
the doleful moan that will not learn,
but waits in vain, and hopelessly implores
an echo that will never return.
Written: September 3rd, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In a world where souls seldom intertwine,
Where fate plays tricks, a cruel design
A movie theater is a realm for dreams.
Where reality and fantasy gleam.
Yet in this place of everyday strife,
Our lives merge for a brief span of life.
Our bond faded such an assail at night.
Two magnets repelling, never to unite
She knows this truth, etched deep within,
Their fated union is still a dream, so thin.
But in her slumber, she finds solace.
On a whim, a man ignites her soul's grace.
With a single question, she stirs her core.
"Can you truly love me?" she implores.
She looks beyond her rivalry in this vision.
She notices her life's hardships and envisions
She knows the sensation of vertigo spin.
Fear stifling grasp and joy's rush from within
She is not embarrassed to show her tears.
Behind her alluring smile, she hides her fears.
She relishes the giggles that come with fright.
Souls are truly entwined in this fictional sight.
Where their hearts sway to lovely music.
I'm totally psyched to break out the acoustic.
But alas, the dream fades with the morning light.
Leaving her longing for that man outside her sight.
In the depths of her doze, she yearns to chime,
A love that transcends the boundaries of time.
But in the waking hours, the reality remains
Their destined meeting, still held in chains.
She hunts for solace in the little tidbits they share.
In the brief encounters, a glimpse of care
She finds comfort in the view of his existence.
A beacon of hope in a world of resistance
Even though their paths may never fully align,
She believes their souls will combine.
A world where fate tricks and souls don't meet
Her hope is that destiny will let them complete
Before then, she'll daydream in her deep sleep.
Of the man who can ignite her soul so deep.
In the realm of dreams, their love will shine.
Where fantasy and reality intertwine.
Though their encounter may remain elusive,
Their souls will find each other, ever-inclusive.
Again, I was freed from a mad hurricane
Call it by any name, it's still the same
Two eldest siblings, lost their lives in the dark
Freedom implores fresh start.
I needed to search, to find the right key
To set free, the rainbow that is me
I lied, and lived life as pseudo art
Freedom implores fresh start.
I wove my very own hand-made strife
Piled firewood burned my studious life
I was flown to the U.S., to carve life like a star
Freedom implores fresh start.
Meanwhile, my two eldest siblings made the family proud
From in the days of carefree years, I'd known dark clouds
Sometimes discombobulated, I couldn't see far
Freedom implores fresh start.
Until sky-light rain song transported my soul, as I wept
Until I envisioned my better self in depth
I never saw love, and life from God, as supreme art
Freedom implores fresh start.
Now, I live to learn, and hope my lessons show
I can pause and ponder where I choose to go
I'll wake and meditate, keeping light my heart
Freedom implores fresh start.
*
**V**
\ /
\ /
v
He is her knight in shining armor in all angles and sight…
He has all the courage to go and ask her hand,
From the woman’s father who’s well-known as a noble man;
Words of humiliations, he swallows them all,
He is a commoner but his love for her is so true and pure.
Despite their opprobrium, he keeps fighting for his great love,
In a humble way, he begs for her parents’ blessings
knocking their wooden heart;
Bowing before her father… he implores…
Making faithful promises to keep forevermore.
His heart of gold and few hectares of land
enough dowries he can give,
all for his dearest one.
For she’s their only daughter,
their lovely princess
very precious,
and so pretty-she really is.
The suitor’s words are passionate, fervent and firm,
The man is so adamant, he still refuses him,
His words continue…spewing cogent powers…
Finally melts her mother’s heart---
His struggles to win her and be both blessed will soon be over,
He’ll surely conquer for his love is so great proven to last forever.
Sept. 17, 2013 9.25 pm
©2013by Leonora Galinta
First Place
Contest: Epic Only
Judged: 9/24/2013
Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
Ninth Place
Contest: In Honor of Painter Charles Haigh Wood & His Painting
Judged: 10/1/2013
Sponsor: Poet Isaiah Zerbst
Love is a soothing pool,
to dive in,
a lifeguard that calls you below,
to drown in- it's visage like an Angel-Siren,
that sings of Myth and Hero (?Chyren?)
Love is hopes wind that fills your sails, removes the dark clouds of despair, revealing to you your heart in a rustling fan fair.
It is born of day, and of a clear starry night where your emotions' linger hanging as a constellation of salvation, showing you The Way.
Love IS the Queen of Tides.
The kiss of New Life,
from its breath that carries you to the Other Side.
From deserted isle to garden shore.
A buoy of emotions that implores. Sea of virtues potions, and devotions galore.
It sells at it's window front store.
Notions of path and empath.
A lotion to adorn. Making you a hound to it's odor.
Wants you to do it's math. Bask in it's grasp as you lather in it's ardor.
What is the value of something so sacred and pure.
Love IS
THE Grace of the Sacred-gift of Purity, GOD'S Sacred Divinity, The
Sacred Safety of Eternity, the Sacredness of moments shining.
The moment- that it shows you as family.
Aligning, the Truth- opining.
It is Sacred Obscurity while knowing full,
fullness with emotions proofs. The clear picture.
To feel in its integrity, reliability.
It is the ultimate magic. Poof, it's there.
Eternitys shield of invincibility.
A saviour empath beckoning like a lighthouse shining into the coldness of night.
Swirling as an undertow on the voyage of Life.
~Jude Fernando Herrick
Cliff
On sea cliffs walks a breath of grace
Windswept wonder splashed on her face
Sun shadows dance around her feet,
Delight in this sandy retreat,
Green parasol, like flower blooms
Floral scents and ocean perfumes,
Flowing spice of the salty air,
Carefree breeze tugs curls in her hair.
Wind song of the sea sings in riffs
From hiding places runs up cliffs
Chases sunlight - l’apres midi –
Sea shanty chorus, whimsy free,
Ruffles chaste lace of petticoats
Playful whiffs ‘round her bonnet float
Bluffs of pink granite precipice
Sports wild poppies, crinolines crisp.
Palisade crags – coast of flowers -
Begs delight from her leisure hours
Spreads her a cape of boutons d’or,
Golden bouquet – beauty implores -
Playful cloud shadows, like sea drift,
Hug windy paths upon the cliff
Grace strolls in afternoon’s repose
Blossom of the Fleurie Coast rose.
1-25-22
Contest: C Form - Couplet
Sponsor: Constance La France
Based on Monet’s painting of Madame Monet at Trouville France. Trouville is a resort city in Normandy that is part of the Fleurie Coast – Coast of Flowers.