Long Impressively Poems
Long Impressively Poems. Below are the most popular long Impressively by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impressively poems by poem length and keyword.
Sing a new song,
In laughing notes of light,
Falling soft as the dawn,
Sighing joy through each midnight,
Feelings glistening like the stars,
Assembled in skies, inspiring…
Playing gentle like old guitars
Reassuring the moments so alive…
Sing a new song,
One full of grace and hope,
Kissed by eternal flames,
Igniting the heart who’ll cope…
With darkness and betrayal,
All the shame of a past
Shadowed by ugliness,
Knowing the melody, so steadfast.
Sing a new song,
Breathed by a soul who glows,
With peace and kindness, stirred…
By the music real love will silently compose,
Music so beautiful and inspiring,
The heart feels like it has been moved,
Brought the gift of tender devotion,
Scattered by harmony that joy has proved…
Sing a new song,
Arise to meet the winds silent gusts,
Whispering through the oaks and pines,
Awakening dreams the heart trusts,
Fulfilling the night’s breathless need…
With a flowing tenderness, the belief
Wisdom showered by snowcapped dreams,
Quietly playing in euphonious relief….
Sing a new song,
In lavender sunsets, painted impressively,
Caressing the skies with bold hues of praise,
Rousing the life with grace so expressively,
Encouraging featherless angels,
Those who need only be known by the gentle
Way they divide moments with light,
Feelings so alive, immense, simply monumental.
Sing a new song,
Pouring like rain falling peaceful
Across the soul who sees the beauty,
Flooding minds, souls, with the easeful,
Sounding more like the rustling of leaves,
Dancing quietly on the autumn day,
Painting the moments, hesitating…
Erasing the pains of darkness’ dismay,
Sing a new song,
Remember the soothing tones,
Intimate like the trembling birth,
Flowing over the smooth stones…
Inviting the soul to flow
With enlightenment who drowns out…
The fears, the tears, the slow,
Easy silence – graceful as love’s fallout.
Sing a new song,
And I’ll sing along – blending voices,
Blending love, so alive –
Like the soul’s light, so many choices…
Will I never know the harmony,
That comes to life for the heart who hears…
Love sung to the heart who believes,
Poetic notes, significant as Shakespeare’s
Philippines is in great danger right now
I sense deceitfulness and betrayal here
My leader is feeling great and proud
It seems everything is in control
He's doubling the greatness of his father
Not in economy, infrastructures or legacy
But in name shame, ill public trust issues
Unabated corruption, nepotism and drug addiction
I sense police suppression, abuse of power
Rampant human right violation in highlight
People are not blind to see leader's fallibility
Of course not, my leaders have their heydays
Powerful, untouchable in its high evil ways
I feel if people react on the street with rages
It's easy to declare a National emergency
Put it in heightened red alert to the extreme
Declaring force the state to Martial Law
Which is patterned to his Father's declaration
Much worse undeclared but under silent Marx rule.
World Leaders are looking my country terribly
With judgment under craziness and maligning
Is my leader sane or in moron condition
I hope not but very impressively foolish to say
It's not even normal to say they're in demon possession
I sense there's no living justice system here
As if the 3 government branches are colluding
When our former leaders are deprive their rights
What's the protection of the laws for the lowly
Where would my people go in case of chaos
Hope China, US and Russia would help us
What would happen to my country this time
What if my people fight and find peace by revolt
Where would my family, my friends, and my kin go
Who do we turn to but God Almighty for prayer
Would there be sacrificial lamb to appease rage
Where would be another hero to unite my people
Would there be civil war to make this country unite
Would there be division among regions be made
Think my leader where which to find solution
Think my people what kind of country we want to be.
Evelyn was a gorgeous woman, sweet tempered and fun.
Larry knew that the second he began to date her, three months ago.
She seemed to be everything he wanted except for one small thing.
She was rather plain, not a looker, someone easily forgotten.
Thought this as he entered the French Quarter, for his afternoon snack.
Saw shoes first – they were sexy, sensual, red satin, with flirty ties.
Followed by legs that went up to the top of the Empire State Building.
He felt his cheeks redden. Had she seen him looking her over?
Stunning, with curly auburn hair, and a slender, glorious swan-like neck.
Larry watched. She was deep in thought, guarded by a collie like dog.
The dog stared daggers at him. They were a package apparently.
Maybe the dog was a shepherd; Larry did not understand dogs.
Dress was strapless, a sweetheart neckline; her breasts were perky.
Young, he thought; way too young to be wearing that much make up.
It was the Dad in him; he had a twelve-year-old daughter, Maggie.
The beautiful woman began to stir her beverage; the dog did not move.
A gorgeous pair, this woman wearing pearls at her neck and ears,
And impressively tall, protective, white dog with tan embellishments.
“Larry!” Evelyn sat down and noticed the young beauty right away.
“Look at that gorgeous hand-painted scarf in her lap!”
Larry pretended he did not know whose lap she mean. “Whose lap?”
“Oh, sure, you did not notice her?” She nodded in the dog’s direction.
“She is young enough to be my daughter!” He said indignantly.
Evelyn’s eyes danced, she looked prettier than she had ever looked.
At his wedding Arthur received
a magnificent round table, he was pleased
From king Leodegrances of cameliard
graciously covered, impressively carved
As time went by Arthur decreed
twenty four men that would up heed
He made them knights and brothers to him
to keep the laws and not to sin
Twenty four knights, gallant and steady
to serve their king and country, ready
They sat round the table with one another
each one loving their fellow brother
One knight caught Arthur’s eye
his combat skills, extremely high
He made him his champion knight
Sir Lancelot, who relished the fight
The knights became so well known
throughout Briton, throughout Rome
There fame spread around the globe
to foreign countries they all rode
Slaying dragons and fighting battles
their missions heard, with deathly rattles
At Mount Badon their glorious victory
defeating the Saxons, the rest is history
Now the people had peace here in Briton
but the knights became unsettled and ridden
So at mystic Merlin’s magical suggestion
Arthur listened and didn’t question
They sent the knights on a crusade
to the Holy land where they all prayed
In search of the Holy Grail
which became a wondrous tale
The roman Emperor was so impressed
with Arthur’s army and religious quest
And after a lot of talk and fighting
gave him the western half of Europe, in writing
Queen Guinevere had fallen for Sir Lancelot
he returned her favours quite a lot
He tried hard to control his heart
but his love grew strong from the start
Poor Arthur did not know
until his nephew Mordred, told him so
© Copyright 28th December 2010 K.C.Leake
"In times of need, the devil eats flies", an old folk wisdom, shared by Anne-Lise Andresen
Praise the frog who croaks on high,
whose legs propel him to the sky,
who sticks his tongue out at a fly -
praise the frog who croaks on high.
* Updated to reflect Gray Squirrel's sage insight
Mourn the fly who didn't praise
the frog who impressively displays
a tongue that darts out cruel death rays.
Mourn the fly who didn't praise.
* Updated to reflect Paula Goldsmith's sound sentiment
Celebrate the man who eats in peace,
free from buzzing which wouldn't cease.
Pay the frog a dollar for each.
Celebrate the man who eats in peace.
* Updated to reflect Anne-Lise's apt aphorism
Pity poor devils who must eat flies
when their pantries lack supplies.
Frogs are devils, say six-legged guys.
Pity poor devils who must eat flies.
* This addition, verbatim, from Beryl Edmonds (does this mean we need to be nervous when we eat at her house?)
Abhor the woman who made stew
Out of moose and liquorish juice
The kids got sick of course
Hubby went for divorce
She was happy out on the loose.
~ Beryl
* Inspired by CayCay Jennings's eloquent enquiry
Party down, poets, is this a joke?
These poems writ by just one bloke.
Except for Beryls' holy smoke!
Party down, poets, is this a joke?
* Inspired by the awesome advice of Gershon Wolf
Collaborate with friends the world around.
You don't need a mind that's sound.
Can we even hunt with that hound?
Collaborate with friends the world around.
Their spirit beat the void, like the bird from out the ark.
Their soul was as a lampless sea.
Their thoughts came yapping and growling round them like a pack of curs.
They breathe to Heaven like vapor goes.
They moved hither and thither like insects in their crevices.
Quaking and quivering like a short-haired puppy after a ducking battlefield.
In An unknown world, wild as primeval chaos.
Calmly dropping care like a mantle from their shoulders.
Weapons destructive as the lightning flash.
Frightened like a child in the dark.
Their heart grown icy as a fountain in the fall.
Poured the bullets upon their enemies like trembling flood.
Their impulse came and went like fireflies in the dusk.
Their eyes blazed like deep forests and glowed like blue coals.
Their mind murmurs like a harp among the trees.
Their nerves thrilled like throbbing violins.
Their revenge descends perfect, sudden, like a curse from heaven.
Fight impressively as a warrant of arrest for high treason.
Their voice was like the clap of thunder which interrupts the warbling birds.
Their souls wavered and shook like a wind-swept leaf.
Words from the captain gave a curious satisfaction, as when a coin, tested, rings true gold.
Life stretched before them alluring and various as the open road.
Memory and emotion surged in their souls like a tempest.
Their enemies broken like a dam of river reeds.
So Let the Flags of Freedom Fly Unfurled in Their Majesty High.
Mornings delight is present with the laughter of so many little children.
My street is filled with pitter-pattering little feet that are out and about.
Each home impressively stands tall with a very valid gift on this street!
Each home esteemed by many splendorous seeds yielding viable sprouts!
Laughter and joy fills up in my air allowing the child in me to cheer again.
Little hearts pound with excitement from all that is complete and genuine.
These streets are always stirring up in sounds of my own pure innocence.
Many of my screams are carried out through many of their tiny shouts.
Their little lives engage with my own will to thrive alive on this street.
Not one shimmering smile is shaded by a stunting glimpse of doubt.
This is The Happy Place and exact with what my eyes can clearly see.
It is my place of comfort that carries me back to where I've already been!
The Happy Place holds the master key to my life of many, many things!
My warmest images are portrayed by the innocence of a child's smile.
The Happy Place holds my essence in presence of many, many memories.
The face of my own authenticity identified is what this child's smile brings.
The Happy Place is a true gift in this world freely given by a precious child.
A genuine smile dignifies my world restoring my truth purified by my honesty!
® Registered: 2009 Ann Rich
Dear Miss Monkey Manners: I’m a Spider Monkey in need of your help,
Recently someone yanked my tail and I cried out with a yelp.
It may seem like a little thing to cry when someone pulls your tail,
Unless, of course, it’s mating season and you’re the alpha male.
All of the sudden this younger guy is getting more looks than me,
And there’s a lot of chatter going on all around the banana tree.
I recently overheard some talk about putting me out to pasture,
But with all the Jaguars around this place, a pasture would be disaster.
So tell me is there a way that I can continue to have fun?
Please send your answer right away before setting sun.
My poor, dear Spider friend, please take time tonight to watch the setting sun,
Then apply that sight to your alphaness and grab your prehensile tail and run.
Remember to keep the memories of all the girls you’ve had,
But perhaps it’s best to move along because what happens next is bad.
There will be a challenger who will have impressively aggressive displays
And he will not give a banana flip about stories of your glory days.
So let the girls remember you the way you used to be,
Instead of getting humiliated for all of the world to see.
Go find yourself a lonely tree because that where you belong now,
And if you think that life’s unfair, it’s better than being Jaguar chow.
Burly men hauled her onto a fishing village beach.
She was rotund, impressively pump,
it took a while.
Her proportions made her ideally suited
for floating on her back
though she hardly had ever did.
Groups of curious onlookers gathered.
We all waited for a marine biologist
or coroner to arrive.
Surprisingly her fish tail was graceful
some peered closely to see if there
was a seam or a theme park logo anywhere.
No such clues could be found.
She was, they all agreed, the real deal.
Unfortunately she was beginning to smell.
Some posited that the recent sea-bottom drilling
for off-shore windmills had disturbed the eco-environment
of this part of the coastline.
Whales had turned up dead, sharks were seen belly up
and clueless. People were stumped.
It was a big topic around these parts.
Soon the small crowd drifted away,
many had fish wives of their own, and about now
they would be gutting and cleaning mackerel.
Myths are hard to keep fresh,
in this case buckets of ice were employed
as she was carted off to market.
Tissiack’s Tears
“[F]or I was absorbed in the great Tissiack [Half Dome]-- I have gazed on Tissiack a thousand times -- in days of solemn storms, and when her form shone divine with the jewelry of winter, or was veiled in living clouds; and I have heard her voice of winds, and snowy, tuneful waters when floods were falling; yet never did her soul reveal itself more impressively than now. John Muir
Tissiack’s tears fall from her rain-stained face,
her profile one with the lichened rock.
She, the spirit of the Ahwahneechees,
speaks silently, with the voice of winds,
of time, change and the valley's past.
My tent at the Lodge opened to her
and for a year I gazed upon and
thought I had begun to understand -
but youth is distracted by what is
and can't see what can't been seen.
Years later, I return to her and sit
in the moonlight at Mirror Lake.
As my eyes tire and become unfocused,
I see her missing half in the water -
her half that isn’t, her mystic moiety.
She then whispers of unhalves, and in the
rippled, reflective waters appears
my unhalf – those thoughts, unthought and
that life, unlived. I now share in her tears
and embrace her unseen soul.