Long Lagoon Poems
Long Lagoon Poems. Below are the most popular long Lagoon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lagoon poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: November 15, 2025
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Yesterday, I felt free,
today, I am dressed the same way,
disappearing into the fog—
a shadow comes back,
But the hand can't hold it.
Time, that flexible harbinger,
flows through the dying hours.
It is a soothing calm, a hex—
sweet but deceptive.
We cling to transients with empathetic souls,
writing whims on a prism,
that fades from our minds by dawn.
Waves in the lagoon of dreams
spectacle after spectrum
a rubicund eolith per second—
divine, yet gone in a flash.
Even halcyon moments
endure the burden of change,
a lament, an aching yearning,
and an unadorned grace
woven in the cloth of life,
a triptych of loss,
longing, and lucent grace.
We writhe in the sky
threadbare with zeal
looking for a cure for things that don't last
but catharsis is endogenous—
a seraphic niche within the soul
where meliorism dwells
against the storm of forgetting.
So let us not abase our ache,
nor rake through the past
with burdened hands
let us wear our lassitude
akin a pavonine tiara—
a testament to mettle,
to the sacred sapidity
of being briefly,
beautifully alive.
A picturesque scene from my window this afternoon.
Banishing all greying clouds, the sky is pastel blue.
Radiating the sun's rays, rain was not seen for days.
Astonishing vibrant rainbow of flowers are strewn.
Clusters of marigolds, daffodils and lilies grow.
A glorious image appears in the far lagoon.
Delicate swans are gliding in the sparkling waters.
Adorable signets will be completely grown soon.
Bewitching aromas from where the white jasmine grew.
Rain was not seen for days, radiating the sun's rays.
Alluring sunset drenches all crimson, by the moon.
9/17/18
"Blues""
They don't even notice a new you
Ooooo
They keep looking at me like I'm cuckoo
Boo-hoo
Who knew
I'd have such bad juju
All that's left is a doll used for voodoo
Any day now I'm due to
Evolve into Mewtwo
Then I'll be a guru
Just love me, since very few do
Nothing I said is voulu
I’m looking for a nice girl that can dance in a tutu
Her name doesn't have to be Lulu
Taking a cruise
Got the blues
My grasp on reality, I'm starting to lose
No longer minding my P’s and Q’s
Continuing to booze
And snooze
Had to pay my dues
Can't follow the clues
Must be missing a few screws
Heart beaten black and blue
An endless ooze
Of blood followed by a bruise
Not a single soul whose
Able to walk a mile in my shoes
No longer amused
Or Enthused
At a rapid rate I consume
Substances being abused
Aghh, I'm so confused
To tell the truth, it's of no use
Because I've always been doomed
Overhead a black cloud loomed
And there was endless gloom
I Improved
Then fell back and lost my groove
She sent me nudes
Of much more than her boobs
To me and ten other dudes
Then she had an attitude
And wanted to feud
Because I wasn't in the mood
To put up with bull, go ahead and call it rude
Whew!
For you
I made more than room
And then boom
There you were marrying a man born with a silver spoon
Able to literally buy you anything underneath the stars and moon
Picking flowers that recently bloomed
To whom
It may regard, may this lead you to a boon
With something so very opportune
Got to keep making moves
After what I choose
All while sampling different foods
Nearby a lagoon
Just following my own tune
Looking up at the moon
While atop a dune
Time has once again proved
That from the picture, I've already been removed
It's okay because this afternoon
It will all be over soon
Nature brings us such astonishing beauty,
and one of the most lovely sights is Flamingos.
Whether they are in a huge group or two by two,
or a pink mother and baby with feathers new;
light gray feathers than will in time have a pink hue.
Flamingos are in truth quite bizarre and grotesque,
with their long necks and long, long legs and odd faces;
comical how they stand and even sleep on one leg.
They love to gather around a shallow lagoon or lake,
oh, such a breathtaking sight - it makes my heart ache;
they look so unique that at first you may think they are fake.
These ancient birds can live up to 60 years of age,
spending their day eating algae, crustaceans and bugs;
they are quite peaceful and tranquil but do have enemies,
one is man, too many have been captured from the wild.
You know what I mean if you have been to a zoo,
you really didn't think that to the zoo- they flew;
but there is another bird that likes them, too.
The Lappet-faced Vulture Buzzard consumes Flamingo,
this huge, powerful old world bird who also eats carrion;
has been known to hunt Flamingo adults and chicks.
Nature gives us both fantastic beauty and heartbreaking horror,
yet, even Buzzards have a beauty in their skills.
The in air cartwheels and soaring, the high-pitched crying,
spectacular displays that show off their awesome flying;
but, to hunt Flamingo is just dreadful - no denying.
____________________________
January 9, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Painted Pink By Nature
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1102-481-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Scewed XX
sponsor, Rob Carmack
Ninth Place
Received, NA in Buzzards and Flamingos Contest,
Judged, 1/29/19
There I was, a lonely soul, lollin' on a Bermuda beach soakin' up the sun,
Where the sand is pink and the rum swizzles will never be outdone!
Where college goils from New Joisey and New Yawk flock to each Easter,
To frolic on the beaches, find romance and display their comely keister!
From across the way I espied this beauty strollin' along the shore.
I mused, "Is this the steamy summer love that I've been pinin' for?"
The statuesque bikini-clad doll came towards me with a cat-like stride.
I could hardly quell the romantic notions that were wellin' up inside!
I leapt to my feet, pullin' in my gut and puffin' out my puny chest!
(After all! To impress this stunner wouldn't you want to look your best!)
"Hi-ya, big fella", she purred, "I've come to Bermuda for a little fun,
And my ten-day holiday in this lovely paradise has just begun!"
Well, what's a feller to do - I invited her for a Manhattan at the local pub.
Afterwards, we sipped champagne and played toesies in a heated tub!
Later, strollin' the beach, we noted that old man winkin' at us from the moon.
This was enhanced by romantic music serenadin' us from across the lagoon!
Things were goin' so well that I just could not believe my good luck.
Suddenly, it all ended as if I'd been dinged in the head with a hockey puck!
Alas, I had been dreamin' this romantic interlude that was far from borin',
When my spouse poked me sayin', "Wake up and stop that infernal snorin'!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Sweetheart Of Poetry Soup's "Steamy Summer Love" Contest - Jul 2010
Poor Ruby Hummer looks confused,
searching for her favorite feeder.
It was right there when it last was used,
in September, in the cedar.
Above the Bee-balm and Lobelia,
in my pollinator garden,
so sorry, Ruby, yes I feel ya,
and I truly beg your pardon.
I’m late this May, you came so soon
from your Yucatan vacation.
2000 miles from your lagoon,
a miraculous migration.
500 miles without a stop
o’er the Gulf, you must be famished.
A marvel that you didn’t drop,
and now your feeder’s vanished!
Just last week we had some snow,
a freakish mid-May specter.
Please be patient, please don’t go,
I’ll brew you up some nectar.
Meanwhile, check the Columbines
while I go and fetch the feeder.
And don’t forget your Trumpet Vines
that wind behind the cedar.
Come grace my garden, cheer my heart,
you’re my favorite garden guest.
It’s time to fatten up and start
to build the family nest.
Here nest materials, soft and pliable,
give shelter from the storms.
Next Spring I will be more reliable,
I’ll institute reforms.
June 2020
Garden Contest sponsored by Constance La France
Written: September 17, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: "Forgiveness is the fragrance flowers give when they are crushed". By Rumi
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Forgiveness is not dulcet or facile—
It is a desultory pilgrimage,
a diaphanous veil over bruised truths,
a furtive lilt in the throat of time.
It begins in the inglenook of ache,
where erstwhile wounds murmur in penumbra,
And ebullience feels as betrayal.
There, the soul must dissemble its pride,
imbue its scars with emollient grace.
The heart, once a halcyon lagoon,
now languors in imbroglio and languor,
its efflorescence buried beneath elision,
It's an effervescent hope, a vestigial moiety.
Yet forgiveness arrives, such as petrichor—
redolent, evocative, ephemeral.
It gambols through the gossamer dusk,
a fetching ripple in the future.
It is not a panacea, but a palimpsest,
a pastiche of pain and propinquity,
where even nemesis may become nectar,
and sorrowful echoes find serendipity.
Forgiveness is the elixir we resist,
the embrocation that stings before it soothes.
It asks for forbearance, not forgetting,
for love, not leisure, for lissome strength.
It is the ineffable act of inure—
to hold the harm, then allow it to pass.
A mellifluous undoing of the pyrrhic,
a sumptuous surrender to the soul’s own lilt.
So let it be your talisman,
your tinkling umbrella in the storm.
Forgiveness is not weakness—it is glamour,
the quintessential grace that makes us whole.
Pretend we're on a poet's honeymoon
Let's dance atop the Massifs on the moon
We'll get our fill of Milky Way's champagne
Behind a chariot of stars, the twain
Each star a stepping stone of Heaven's rune
That lead down to a luminous lagoon
And when Andromeda begins to wane
We'll take our muses to another plane
Riding on the shooting star, we will croon
Rhapsodying together, hearts in tune
Lost in love, our muses will not complain
As we set foot in Sombrero's domain
Each planet, we'll decorate with festoon,
And get drenched in Saturn's diamond monsoon,
Once heights of passion with words, we attain,
Back to earth, where we can pretend again.
Form: Rhyme (10 syllables)
26th March 2023
Yo-Ho-Ho And Shiver Me Timbers
Shiver me timbers and loosen me limbers
I sail me sloop until it lin’ers
And drop anchor in t’ nearest lagoon
Bury me treasure chest full o’ doubloons
Then set off durin t’ next full moon
~
“Aarrr!” I’m happy go-lucky sea piratin Cap’n
With a short wooden leg and a limp, earrin’s, and rin’s on every fin’er
Metal silver hook for me left hand
Me cutlass, dagger, and dirk o’ me belt
Not a landlubber at all
~
Not a thin’ scares me that stand in my way
Especially when I’ve had a few grogs in me belly
Aye, I carry around me Ahoy! bucko Polly me parrot on me shoulder
That keeps me on t’ straight and narrow
~
They call me a barbaric and thief I don’t know why
A great insult t’ me, I just laugh into my handkerchief in disbelief
~
Don’t insult me temper because it gets carried away
Sarcasm, rudeness, and insults I cannot help
When swashbucklin’ scallywag get in me way
~
Me hearty weigh anchor
Or I’ll give ye a taste o’ walkin t’ plank
T’ Davy Jones’ Locker you will go and feed t’ fishes for mutinous
Dead men tell no tales!
~
Aye, aye, mates, pull anchor and set sail
I be Silver Hook a feared pirate that sails t’ seas
9/5/2015
Contest Name :A Pirate's Life For Me
Sponsor Name: Kelly Deschler
Sea alongside where they are, where they go
Undercurrent of cover, keep upset under wraps
Run a watertight routine within swim safe zone
Emit words washing white magic swell flat relax
Pervade far lands, exotic tainted by Australia
Leisure takers pack high hopes among low funds
Enamour for contrast demands modes familiar
Affluent rabid urgency, serene temples shunned
Swum lagoon lounging, legs glossy mahogany
Upscaled servers strive for measly tourist custom
Resort afforded sirens their thriving economy
Ethos of plentiful offering for Gods stay trusting
4th October
Faraway from Before