Long Iridescent Poems
Long Iridescent Poems. Below are the most popular long Iridescent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Iridescent poems by poem length and keyword.
hummingbirds are God's gift to us . . .
with their unique "flight" - their agile hovering and darting
some with brilliant iridescent plumage and jeweled adornments
and others duller in colors of browns or greens . . .
a tiny
swift~ precious and delightful bird
~ I have created a garden to attract their flower affinity
as the hummingbirds have a need for sweet nectar
and they have a niche no other bird can occupy in my heart ~
I love their wild beating wings
and their squeaky high-pitched chirps and whistles
I never tire of watching those long bills dipping
deep into a flower and those forked tongues lapping
the sweetness . . .
~ my garden is full of wildflowers
that hummers' like- lots of trumpet blooms brightly colored
and places for pendent cupped nests protected from sun and rain ~
yes, hummingbirds need a place for nocturnal resting too
then, starting in the early morn'
they come darting to dazzle me
with their unique fearless dashing "flight" ~
and giving them my love I have given them a fountain bath
as there is nothing more divine than to watch them
splashing and ruffling their feathers . . . in the falling water
oh, I do love hummers' taking a hovering 'bath' . . .
~ there is a peace in their dashing among my flowers
the lupines, foxglove, nasturtiums, lilies and others
they also like my hanging baskets of petunia and verbena
. . . so, they grace my porch too ~
__________________________
June 09, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/hovering flight
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1463-614-09
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Flight 2
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 06/24/2022
Third Place
~ Oh, maiden of light cracks the wispy air open ,
wandering around viscous spaces
like virgin shadow caressing the edge
of sleep… and the days stretch longer,
taller than guava trees dreamingly shedding
laces of northeast streams when
songbirds, orbits, and a pageant of flowers listen
to a single humming breeze… and when all else
is sprawled quiet, waterfalls marry her certain
lingering star straying on mouths of gentleness
past eons bound by nuptials in iridescent realms…
*O, ilaw, sa gabing malamig, wangis mo'y
bituin sa langit… O, tanglaw, sa gabing tahimik,
larawan mo, Neneng, nagbigay pasakit. Ay! *
Somehow ,curlicues drape a fragrant smoke
leaking out a folk sky; dancing in the mirror
of the mountain pool… a serenade weeps;
quivering, moaning along the inland pass that
someone said morning becomes electra,
that learning how to hear her blossom or
pearl stone unravels the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
shed her purity far beyond unknowing a
water’s need to keep still: the juice spills…
**Gising at magbangon sa pagkagupiling
sa pagkakatulog na lubhang mahimbing;
buksan ang bintana at ako'y dungawin,
nang mapagtanto mo ang tunay kong pagdaing. * *
Peeling new faces of time, shaping the width of
endless rhyme in sprays of endless mystery...
like so, a thousand times before and after,
twilight and daybreak entwine… oh,light elusive,
passing through calm eyes of young maiden’s season
is love’s way of coming back to itself. ~
--------
* O, light, in the cold night; you're like a star in the sky
O, light, in the quiet night, your picture, Neneng,
makes one ache…. Oh!
** Awake and arise from slumber,
from your sleep so deep.
Open your window and look out to me
So that you may understand my true lament.
~ this poem is inspired by a harana, a traditional Filipino serenade. The suitor
is accompanied by his friends who back him up both vocally.
At first, the woman's window is closed. The man calls out to her
and if she's interested, she'll open her window.
Singing harana originated during the Spanish
colonial period in the Philippines.~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYueJU0Ufws&feature=related
---------
For Debbie’s Bi-lingual Poetry by nette onclaud
An impartial day
Upon lush yonder valleys,
golden sun rays glow
Reflected raindrops prism,
forming a partial rainbow
Just above my head,
darkness stubbornly grows
Interrupting one of natures,
iridescent idyllic shows
I follow blind trajectory
towards riverbeds below
To find a multicolored haze,
surrounding the meadow
Fleeting glimpse of oneness,
albeit broken as it goes
Perfection alone is nothing,
fulfillment makes it so.
By
David Kavanagh
Blooms and butterflies are a poet's delight,
For his sore eyes so soothing a sight,
Like mellifluous music melting his restless mind.
The brilliant blend of yellow and orange,
Brightens the day and lightens the mood.
They dance delicate on dainty dandelions,
Wings with patterns of pink and purple,
And with colours of crimson and white.
Those little luminous iridescent blue ones
Found on tree tops and tree stumps -
To a child's eyes they look like
Winged blue blooms of Morning Glory.
And the ones that flutter their freckled wings,
Black with tints of gorgeous golden green,
Are the perfect pictures of a pleasant day.
They bask in the sun spreading their wings,
And their radiance kindles grace and peace.
Date: 12/16/2020
Alliteration - Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
A Brian Strand You Choose Poetry Contest
To trade through the Pacific Ocean
An undeniable dream for nations
Never mind pollution and all its ramifications
The Pearl, China’s third longest river
As blue jeans take the world
Their warmth should make us shiver.
The ecosystem easily raped and plundered
By blue jeans, have you never wondered?
The River Pearl what a glorious name
Its river bed with shell like rocks once aflame
The iridescent pear-like colours true
But dying now because of 'blue'.
The waters from the factories run black
Some recycled, but corporations never look back
The waste-dyed waters piped into the rivers life
Polluting and poisoning - rampant and rife
Piped into the fields this black river of death
The crops cannot grow, people gasping for breath
The smog that sits over the Pearl waters dyed black
Will take all you have, is there no going back?
The famous white dolphins will soon be gone
They lived in this river the pearlesence now gone
They die every day as do the crops on the shore
Won’t some-one stand up and cry out ...NO MORE!!!!
© 10/07/2013 GG
The third longest river in china The Pearl River is so badly polluted from the industries on its river banks including the blue dye from the denim factories that all the life in it is now dying, as are the crops on the rivers banks watered by this polluted water.
Our towering talisman…glowering totem…manic volcanic Viking King..
The flowering genesis of a powering nemesis…
Herculean but Sisyphean struggles showering..
The penury of injury…intrigue of fatigue…cavorting
With the clarity and lack of charity
Of ripsnorting depravity and disparity of sporting gravity..
Another unfair body scare on the square or Stokes lair…for our oh so rare.. devil may care…flair compere with his flame red hair…
Lifts his head..this lad instead..after his century score.. Mr Chutzpah thought of his Pa..
From afar..giving the four finger nod to his God…who he did adore.. his Dad..Jed..
Echoes of the potential exponential reverential sublime prime of the Big Ben chime…
For the first time a 5 fer and a ton in the same game…
He already stands tall in the hall of fame…bat and ball..
In the field.. got it all ..but makes you dream of what could have been..
Or still could be...the punter chunter plea..
Crepuscular muscular taunts haunt…grim rasping demons grasping his limbs..tinging..singing impinging…
Why won’t his body and boots be in cahoots …swingeing bingeing like Roots…
No synapses collapses..eschews tussles and issues with muscles tissues and sinews..
Becomes the most impressive.. expressive..leather wizard…willow warlock..
Our ever present iridescent primal tribal bible…another level devil..
Resilient.. brillant…heroic..stoic..the sort of hard fought cohort
That makes Test cricket the halcyon don of all sport..
Amidst the hues of grassy green
wildflowers peer in scanty folds
between the thistle, of blue-gray,
they drink not of the morning's dew
for it lingers less in drier air,
yet grow within the barren brae.
Scant fuchsia and amethyst shades
adorn the parched and dusty soil
below the mountain's rocky ledge,
where clouds of pink swirls linger
above the snow capped tips
as the sun slips atop its edge.
I stand beneath the crimson glow
as it brushes against small streams
reflecting, an iridescent salmon tinge
then fades within the shade
cast beneath scarcely grown pines
amongst the mountain's dinge.
July 29, 2019
Tricon Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
A night's jog through a quiet town.
The strange warmth of an old familiar church.
The morning sun and outside sounds.
Picking the proper jeans, beguiled and besmirched.
Cautious steps inside as anxiety melts off from incense.
The light from the window above my pew.
The love from a girl's eyes aching and iridescent.
A cymbal struck as faces work like brightened ghosts, the heart's early hue.
The flow of a smoky-lighted hour, from soil to sinews, soaks the sodden rag
of the spirit dry, as the walk back into the sun and out of the Mass makes love lag
in the mist of living.
For every cornering thought.
For every bend of the heart.
For every shade of a tree.
And, in stabbing, singular rushes,
For every level of light that I might be.
Little birdie, chirpy and petite,
you're not the kind I'd like to eat,
though your cheeks are green with a cinnamon streak.
Your voice makes a gym sneaker-like squeak.
Your rainbow colors are full of luster
and your physique is fluffy like a feather duster.
Your wings are sleek and iridescent,
and you have a fresh, local pond scent.
Little birdie, you're more than a treat.
You're charming and playful, caring and neat.
You dangle upside down just to please,
and stand on one leg with a gymnast's ease.
Little birdie, chirpy and petite,
you're not the kind I'd like to eat.
I'd never leave you, my little bird,
nor mistreat you, my little bird.
I'd never eat you; that’d be absurd.
In the pale iridescent light of full moon
They'll come in their masses rejoining soon
Families rejoice at a time of remembrance
To ancestors sharing a family resemblance
Returning travellers throughout space and time
The image of which is truly sublime
They come in their masses returning to home
For this is a time to not be alone
A time for reflection, a time to prepare
For a celebration of loved ones who are no longer there
They'll prepare many foods of red, white and green
In honour of ancestral sharers of gene
A respectful acceptance of those who have gone
Encapsulated within the crescent songpyeon
Scents of sandalwood and of pine
Aromatic nostalgias combine
Encouraging spirits to wander the earth
And rejoice in their memories of their own worth