Long Lavender Poems
Long Lavender Poems. Below are the most popular long Lavender by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lavender poems by poem length and keyword.
Ribbons of purple are splayed out in tractor rows of elegance
A foot off the ground, spreading lavender faerie fragrance
Oh, sweet lavender blue, dilly dilly, Lavender blue, Billy, Billy!
Great day to fall in love, silly silly. Where is sweetheart, Willy Willy?
Be it twilight or daybreak? Matters not on this attractive farm.
I take a whiff of sweet smelling country air; what can be the harm?
Puff belly sky swells up, pregnant with anticipation of a gorgeous day.
Willy, my sweetheart calls to me from a mound of freshly baled hay.
Oh, sweet lavender blue, dilly dilly, Lavender blue, Billy, Billy!
I sing myself into a joyful attitude; and feel neither weird nor silly.
For it is that kind of marvelous wonderful day.
And now I settle down next to my guy, in the hay.
twinkle
twinkle
my little star
your shining
the brightest
of all stars
from loves heaven
you do speak
singing enchanting
so very softly
caressing in the deepest
floating one
into the clouds
i am your dust
sweet caster sugar
blowing beautiful on you
sprinkling
in the softest
of feelings
floating among'st the stars
they would wink to you
in a wishing trail
in a scattering
of magic dust
the moon smiles down
on such a beautiful face
blushing roses
hold the colour
in the scent
divine upon
the skin
lavender coloured words
melting sweet
smelling jasmine
warm blowing
a summer breeze
in the mind
speaking ever so softly
whispering to you
in the daisies
making for you a chain
i blow upon the wings
of a butterfly
my lips flutter
kissing a bouquet
princess
gentle landing
emotion
in happiness
a teardrop
a butterfly kiss
i blew it from the stars
passed the smiling moon
it landed on you
a planet
a fairy princess
from the frog
standing out
you do beautiful
in venus
IN PRAISE OF BEAUTY
O beauty allure, beauty of the hyacinth
Doused by wailing drops of dew shroud
And pierced by the radiant shaft of heaven,
Through the rituals of purity
To tread the virginal soil of Venus.
O like the scenery
Of the splendid garden of Aphrodite,
With Pageantry, the art of Pothos and Himeros,
The pearly dross most sought after
Like a wand that spelled all the eyes of men.
Dazzling aurorae shimmering in deep shadows;
Figure beholding the twinkling crown, Andromeda.
Sunrise awaking the greenery;
Ascending furrowed amber terrain of
The gloaming by the countryside!
Habendum et tenedum!
Before the lily white altar an avowal
Of chastity and tranquility enshrined;
On a feather-quilted bed day and night
With love elixir soothing the body and the soul!
Soul melody in the diatonic harmony of
Meshed contralto with resonating baritone.
Swell the homophonic rhythm of Azande
As the pitch from my lips wears and declines
And the tempo of my heart increases!
Scented lavender wafting through the subtle air;
An aromatic morning of rose bathed with dew
That transports the mind beyond the earthly realm
And captures the heart at whim
Lost in the imagination of the form and frame.
Culinary variety spread in a romantic atmosphere
In candlelight banquet of cream and crimson;
Sheer delicacy, man’s greatest savour
Whose delights subsist even in her absence;
Whose substance transcends life’s ideal.
O beauty, within my heart dwells, enrapturing neurons
Let no worldly cataract becloud your glory
Through my eyes of mine, forever!
Glistening, like dewdrops on a frosted moment,
Glitter sparkling in September’s soul,
Stirring the spirit with heavy hopes, dreams
Alive in the one who can see beyond the traces of a chill,
Into the melancholic prayers, erasing soundless tears,
Embracing the sincerity of a heart who believes
Even the silence of the most vibrant trees – rhythms
Searching for the light who breaths
Beneath the weight of a mystery, autumn’s still, cool gasp
Praising the Creator of light, love, life
Flowing with stardust blessings, embracing
Winds of lavender time, in cobalt skies,
Twilight tempts the night to hear the silence,
Blessing the nestled leaves, the stunning breath
Defeating all the darkness with the grace,
Whispering through the light, glowing through time,
A heavenly night, falling on the hills
Blowing through the memories in tones of grace,
Raining down songs of hope, through the serenity,
Across the seas and through the valleys,
Past the Creator’s brilliant heavens,
Into the hues of an October melody,
Trembling beautiful, stars reflecting the gentle,
Sensing the creativity, the gestures of joy
Moments brimming with glowing thoughts,
Winds blowing through the oaks, the pines, the silence
Remembering what it means to believe,
In the One who continues to protect the seas,
The One who gives hope to you and me,
The Maker of the stars, the Creator of the trees,
The One who brings the stardust dreams,
Guides the soul and sends hearts true peace,
The One who I know, like I know autumn’s grief,
The One who takes me through the darkest dawns
Into the glowing moments, when light erases
Each evening’s black, with a hope that comes back
After the stardust autumn finally grieves
And takes the darkness with a sense of what it means
To just agree, He is the answer, the hope, the grace
That helps me to face each November night,
With the assurance that, someday – He’ll be coming back
Someday, all the glistening glow of stardust on Autumn leaves
Will remember the truth about the heart’s peace,
The assurance that comes from the soul’s true belief
In the One who brings spirits their most assured relief,
The promise of a heaven, where He’ll take away all grief,
The promise of a home where we’ll never have to leave,
A place where Autumn never feels the wings of each falling leaf.
Morning ignites a murder of white crows.
Roosting in the loft of spruce, maple, and oak.
Preening moon and star from death's fertile dream.
Ribbons of sunlight wrapped tight, ancient scrolls.
Window ajar, enter angels donning brooches of mint.
Crows perched lightly upon honey-kissed bedposts.
In each platinum beak, they carry one corner of my ghost,
lifted toward an ember of pulsating eternity.
Garnished with pearly crown and secondhand wings.
Outside, the crows lined up along golden cobbled clouds.
Motionless, like a rosary of gleaming white stones.
Whispering, whirling secrets of galaxies and geodes.
Drifting about, chrysalis-brained, rose petal-hearted.
Leaving behind glittering pools of scented hieroglyphs.
Orange robes enchanting the horizon with lavender mist.
Butterflies released from blue granite chrysalis.
Riding a stream of cherry sunbeams and glitter.
The echoes of a rainbow are a grand place to live.
,
Missing love, missing her, missing…
Leaves are falling all around
Time I was on my way
The seasons change and so do I
My smile lingering of moments spent
while colors dance in abstract fauna
clashing with drab thoughts
Thanks to you, I'm much obliged
Such a pleasant stay
If anything, you made it special
Greetings of morning drifting
on a sunrise of lavender whispers
singing sweetly on the breeze
But now it's time for me to go
The autumn moon lights my way
As nighttime glows I must ramble
where destinies play and winter
is merely a state of mind
chilling dreams along the path
But now I smell the rain and with a pain
And it's headed my way
It follows me wherever I go,
regrets fall in torrents creating
puddles on the edge of my fate,
missing love, missing her, missing…
Good night Soupers
Written with the help of the lyrics of the song “Ramble On” by Led Zeppelin
The bold lines are the song lyrics
Early this morning, the song of blackbirds
quell the swell of silence enfolded by night.
Dim light on a distant ridge: the sun returns,
freed from Atlantis, drenched in the cloak of life.
Soft dew-drop showers dapple the dusty
garden with pops of pastels like lavender,
lilac, tea rose and pink, from clouds that carry
cleansing tears of a newborn’s young mother,
the potter protective her infant clay.
She picks up her child, a fragile bowl, chipped,
frail from thirty years spent running away,
now run aground as a twice sunken ship.
Her hands keep a promise, one quietly spoken,
made long ago when morning had broken.
- For my mother who sang me Cat Stevens'
Morning has Broken the day
I was born.
I have seen yet another miracle under the sun,
An eastern girl.
A firefly that has brought light to my pitiable living....
Poetry like music is just another description of art a painter never had the words to say out loud,
But in my case this is what happens when charisma plies against literature.....
What if I told you my wrist is part of the arms that planted the Boughs of the forbidden fruit?
And in my reveries,I write lustful poems like it's an addiction,
Sin after sin.
Or perhaps I write of love knowing I shall only taste it on stanzas and metaphors?
It's this type of poems that feel like they were written for me....
But today I'm a lucky man,
For there's a lass I wish to say my love to, love of it's purest form,
Stand on mount Everest and shout her name for millennials like I'm on salary to do so,
I'm not much of affectionate behavior
But for simplicities sake....let me just say
I want go on lavender candle dinners,hitch eyes until she's comfortable enough to talk about her insecurities,
And if I was to die before her
Bring me kwachas and ngwes...for I will need bus fare to find my way back to her, only rapture will do us apart.
Take watercolour peach, lavender blue
a canvas morning sky, the clouds a frame,
gilt treetops harvest fire, leaves brightly hued
awakened now the arbor tips became.
Lone footprints in the dew on virgin track
save leaping of a brook or crossing stile,
the journey was for now, no looking back
just savouring a moment for a while.
Beyond the Churchyard, entering the glade
across the tired bridge with rusty nails,
stream cuts its way through earth, a gentle blade,
carved notches from my youth upon the rails.
From here onward the footpath comes and goes
it hides and peeks just like a timid child,
in stretches bare, the place each walker knows
and where a hedge gives choice it blossoms, wild.
Now finally the sunrise takes a hold
and burns away the morning's misty glaze
the speckled droplets revel in their gold
on bark and branches clothed in mossy baize.
Adam's masterpiece comes into view
Palladian and clad in smooth dressed stone
beyond, the bridge where Cutler Brook runs through
where ends this walk since childhood I have known.
Switch on the phone and head for home again
thus ends these precious hours of feeling sane.
My lavender chair sits in lavender flowers I sit among them for hours and hours So much beauty around me abounds I hear them whispering flowery sounds.
Feeling a soft breeze on my hair and face The Lavender sways with elegant grace Taking in all of the sweet lavender smell Each little flower is shaped like a bell
No other color could this yard chair yield Knowing it was meant for a lavender field Thinking to myself as I look up at the blue sky What a wonderful place to be buried when I die
Author Eileen Clark