Long Journeys Poems
Long Journeys Poems. Below are the most popular long Journeys by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Journeys poems by poem length and keyword.
Mid-autumn lingers here
As echoes fade away;
Moon cakes and lunar sphere
As memory plays.
Brisk as that stray cool breeze
The sweet moments depart;
Soon moist winter chills squeeze
In cold frozen lake art.
By pavilion of old
A lovely image lasts;
Our story still unfolds
In such wintry repast.
Lovers and dreams speak
As time journeys along;
Our passage through high peaks
Rise and fall, weak and strong.
Lunar light of moon glow
Follows our earthly date;
Time and space tell and show
Our drama and our fate.
Soon moon cakes and sweet tea
Will follow a new crop;
Mid-autumn, you and me
By lakeside fond teardrops.
Leon Enriquez
27 September 2016
Singapore
Blank page syndrome
feels like full page longing
to be done with some work project
that will not slowly grow worthy
of my time
and certainly no captivated reader.
I feel victimized,
tortured, actually,
by blank page syndrome
Where I want to feel some opening
and rewarding opportunity
and not dull risk
of further unnoticed failure
to richly
and wisely communicate
warm and wild communion.
My blank pages
demand content
spilled across blue horizontal lines
with a red left side vertical
boundary demarcation
Remarking where orderly thought correctly begins
to unfold top left
unfurling cause effectively
sequentially
toward right bottom
Yet Left dominance
overpowers Right feelings prominent
circling and recycling
whirling and spinning
spiraling out of win/win control
re-membering risks
of nontransparent failure
falling brawly short
of both peaceful Truth
and vulnerable Beauty.
Yet a bleakly black blank canvas
with no red
or blue bicameral communion rules
or tools
feels most frightening
intimidating of all
unbalanced
anthro-privileged
vaporous calls
My
"I can't draw,
or sketch,
or paint,
or write,
or sing,
or dance,
or speak out woke"
Can't preach
or teach inside voices
ignoring outside echoing choices
to evoke
childish dreams,
daydream schemes
to become Earth's greatest love
of blank paged warm regard
for how we flew
and walked
and swam
and grew to Here embodied
meets Now compassioned mind
Greatest
deepest
widest
trusted EarthBeauty
dipolar co-arising
all scared yet sacred Time's unfolding
Win/Win regenerative
peaks and valley sand
defining ecstatic
aesthetic lines
refining intimate circling spaces
etched throughout
neuro-systemic elegant
regenerational potential
for healthier lands
Not not synergetic journeys
deeply and widely
back and forth
out and inside
polyculturing communion
While staring at this straight lined
and otherwise white privileged
square-cut manufactured page
Holding my green health hope
and content contented circling pen
praying for worthy expiring
inspiration.
Over the fruitful forests, I saw the trees
I hoofed over sleet, slush, ice, rain n' snow
On my any which way journeys
Wandering kookily at the yearn of heaven's glow
I bear on my back a bodily spirit flow
Whilst traveling in tracks undreamed of
In vasty wind depth visits, so
To kiss the creator's old sod of soil ruff
Many I saw, rip current ocean shores
Sunny and clear, potshot rain sprees
Great stones and rock on steepy cliff floors
Umpteen alpine in the deep forest trees
More than that, wild geese in clean blue air
In elevation over n' under
Heading home across the landscape fair
Hasteningly, avoiding hunter and thunder
In all my travels, I found no answers. Only wonder!
Your teeth mutilate my flesh
My sinews, my muscles rotting
As you cry, “I am your master!”
As I reply, “I am your life!”
You eat me daily when you are weak
And leave me waiting when you are strong
I neither belong to you,
Nor am I separate from you
You carry me along your journeys
Like a heavy dream on your mind
And I wait for the night to come
To remind you,
Your nightmares are me
And you—fresh and scorching
From the moment you bit into me
I became all your malnourishment
And this I will always remind you:
That I am still woefully here
That I am painfully alive
And in and out of this path you tread,
Till the day you die,
You will always be mine
I left my home, the world to roam
it’s been now twelve years gone.
From a boy to a man
was a dreadful short span,
as I journeyed to valleys beyond.
Now the king, he has spoken
and battle has broken,
I’m wise to the ways of the world.
Long on the sword,
as we seek our reward,
to see our flag unfurled…
Sailed by starry dark of night,
our longships cross the sea.
Where a hundred headless horsemen
guard the gates of Galilee.
Each dawn’s a daily dance of death,
through battle smoke like dragon’s breath.
With echo axe to armor chink,
each onslaught we rebuffed.
You can invite the devil for a drink
…if you think you’re man enough.
Heavy’s the head that wears the crown,
when the blood of brothers’ beckons.
Weak is the sword, as it lies on the ground.
If there’s a will, there’s a way,
there are weapons.
But once the battle has ended
and our journeys’ been made,
there’ll be air in my lungs,
and blood on my blade.
As was foretold, our flag was unrolled
in the past… now once again!
Vikings prevail, each time we sail,
in the age of wooden ships
… and iron men.
Copyright © 2018
My Mr moon tells me I shine the brightest
My Mr moon is the smartest
My Mr moon enjoys it when I miss him
My Mr moon smiles when I'm clingy
My Mr moon swears that I'm pretty
My Mr moon cradles my thigh, and whispers that I'm the apple of his eyes
My Mr moon sought out my heart
My Mr moon journeys far and beyond, to fill me with his warmth
My Mr moon melts me with his gaze
My Mr moon's eyes drops precious tears when he leaves me
My Mr moon smells like chamomile
My Mr moon only comes at night
My Mr moon tells me it's going to be alright
My Mr moon thinks I can't see his lies
My Mr moon thinks I'm just too dumb
Mr moon doesn't know I watch him waiting for Mrs sun
66 Thunder Bird
During my days of old.
Ones stories to be told.
Black Bird, Thundering down many a winding road.
Smokin, at 120, above many black tops, being bold.
My Birds wings, in eighty eight, I did clip.
I could no longer fly her, take another trip,
crisscrossing this vast Continent, from shore to shore,
north to south, east to west, south to north, never more.
Never more to sit in the open cockpit.
My wild personality, so well, it did fit.
Memories, adventures, journeys, so many I had.
All but dust in the winds of times passing, so sad
that the beauty of this sixty six no longer fills my inner eye.
Contemplating the loss, reminiscing of stories untold, I cry.
Just a moment of reflecting, a moment of reminiscing,
many thoughts of times in a life that have gone missing.
One’s life, empty as it is, must, continue moving on
even if it means, leaving behind times long gone.
What will never leave the halls of my memories hoard,
are the visions of my Beautiful Daughter, being stored.
Having left her behind, she hung in this orb, watched me
fly over a hundred thousand miles, every mile she did see
as they went by, in the rear view mirror, from which she hung,
as the 390 GT did hum, my long hair flowing as the wind sung
with every strand waving goodbye to what was, hello to what will be.
Che sara sara and forty four years later, I wonder if I was truly free.
My Thunder Bird convertible has long been gone, I do not fret.
My Daughters youth, has, long been gone, I missed, I do regret.
At seventy five, my wings, weak, are no longer are able to fly
and so, a big silver bird ( july 7th ) will take me into the sky
and back into the arms of my history, my Family, my past.
I am impatient for all that awaits me, sad / happy, home at last.
B. J. “A ” 2
June 11, 2018
Awake on a numb dark night he wonders--
tired cells of his existence blazing
on fiery topanga in crushed slumber.
Anxious, chained, gasping at barriers
of individuality or a species that contain
appeasements in layered singularities
or contradictions in linear multitudes.
He drags himself to a paraphernalia,
his search for conquests shivers
in tangled cobwebs his fingers dance
to grand designs of his fantasies.
Oh! how he habitually gets drenched
in warm showers of colliding galaxies,
exploding curses of humanity in hammock,
Aesop's fables plagued in sloth.
His trembling raptures of oceans azure
send chills down the spine of raging coal.
Elevators of his dark realities push him
to take a fall as the Lady of Shalott
atop old cliff of his clueless journeys,
burning mankind, wars, paranoia but wait--
blurred visions of forgotten land arise,
painted from a million oscillations in cosmos,
unwritten pages of blood red stories
crushed and absorbed in soils of time,
simmered to seeds of hopes in his mind--
his fingers dance to tunes of a faint voice,
a dead soul sings amid a snowstorm,
'Oh come crushed souls, let's sleep tonight,
tomorrow you'll squeeze some lost hope in light'.
June 16, 2020
CRUSHED Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
~Premiere Contest Winner: 9th Place
Imagine.....
Scrunched lazily in a bed of your chosen leaves each and every night
To pacify your senses in the richness of earthy-scented legacies
Our ecstasy would prompt our dreams to drift away the moonlight
In nature's cupboard saturating us to delight
In this splendiferous ornamental landscape potpourri
Favorites......
There is of course dark green BAY, the pungent sweet shiny leaf
Loved in soups, stews and sauces and decorative wreaths
CILANTRO serves us tasty signals of subtle, herbal, lemony bright
When cooking in our kitchens playground with recipes just right
MINT is the refresher both clean and sharp - so snappy
Essential to the gum we chew, it makes our toothpaste happy
EUCALYPTUS is strong and bittersweet so conspicuously alive
Its medicine embraces our care in illness and with health to survive
PEPPERTREE stuns our tongues devilishly it tastes so hot and tangy
Rudely smacking our senses sharply burning us to the third degree
VERBENA lulls you to a deeper earthly perfume, lusty and titillating
A citrus romance for salacious hearts and sultry languishing
THYME and SAGE mixes well with much especially ROSEMARY and PARSLEY
It is the herbal gift to our Thanksgiving table as we are wise to use it sparsely
PINE has needles long and thin, its woodland floor fusion creates the pathway
For a long journeys venture of our illusions of forest and stream far away
A bed of leaves to lay ourselves each and every night
A gift of dreams these scented legacies, its ecstasy to our senses delight
November 13, 2019
Scented Leaves Poetry Contest
Sponsor Kim Rodriguez
I looked onto the railway tracks
Relieving myself of cities grey
Exuberant in freighted happiness
As I watch the smoke puffs die away
My thoughts running on labyrinth tracks
Lapping up the miles and licking on
my ice-cream stick
Touching fields full of mustard flowers
The sun gazing down on them for hours!
Birds on wires passing by, keeping me company
Carried over bridges and through green valleys
Travelling through tunnels reminding me of
My heart racing, running through dark alleys
My childhood carried on parallel lines
It seemed in all that haste and change
Part of those journeys still define
The child I know and the woman I became!
7.5.2021
Sponsor:Brian Strand
Contest: All yours May'9
First Place