Long Lavished Poems
Long Lavished Poems. Below are the most popular long Lavished by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lavished poems by poem length and keyword.
beauty comes with the rising dawn
paradise found I will look upon
cradled in sunlight once bathed in starlight
as it enters in silence
and leaves the moon behind
I welcome a world of unfettered technicolor
that washes across the eyes of my soul in unfiltered light
spontaneously spreading warm lavished color
of a azure blue sky and different greens of the meadow
that hang like a painting in the window of my room
as I am awaken by the sound of mourning doves
sounding the alarm of bellowing white clouds
with deep dark edges of developing thunderheads
which will spill rain upon the landscape
and leave peppled raindrops on my windowpane
that once held the frost of Winter
as its snow covered the ground like a tightly held blanket
giving reason for Nature to be seen as a breathing living thing
of wondrous beauty
the morning rises
as eyes welcome paradise
life begins anew
9/5/20 contest writing challenge, nature,four in one
sponsor Constance La France
From her lavished home
Into the body bag!
From the body bag
Into the cold freezing plant!
There is more to it
Than the freezing of beers
That's for you to hear!
She was beautiful
Or so,
She had thought to herself!
But not anymore!
The reason for her leaving
And the manner for it
Must be known!
He was called in.
And again she moved
But she knows not that she moves!
Now, she moves
From the freezer
Onto the bier
Into the green room!
But she wasn't aware!
How futile!
He came in
Clad all in green.
Down came the scalpel
Tearing her up
Like a butcher with his knife!
He pulled and tugged
At dead intestines
At rotting food remains
At the bloating liver
At the motionless eyes
At more and more!
Then he took samples.
Samples that will tell
Or even untell
The cause of death
Of this once-upon-a-time beauty.
Looking at the once
Privately private body
That was gaily covered
And that no one
Could anyhow intrude.
Looking at all before him
He knew
Again and again
As in all other ones
That we are living
In futility!
We are but wastes!
His job is to find
The causes of deaths
Of this body and many more
Before and after.
But he thought
For how long more
Will he do it?
He knows his will be done
Then his man pike
A grub would have become!
But when will it be done?
Lots of deaths
He had helped demystify
But what will kill him?
He knows not.
He only knows
That one sure day
The Pathologist
A stiff will become!
(An homage to Wole Soyinka. Born from the
poem: POST MORTEM)
Spring rises and is reborn
with a warm, glowing morning sun.
May apples, marsh daisies, wild purple, yellow and white violets
peek from the earth with round glossy greens and flowers.
Wild scallions, stretch tall and gangly, feathering the air
as the scent of onions wafts through newly cut grass.
Birds sing and seek a mate
then gather leaves, dry grass and twigs
for nesting softness for new laid eggs.
March winds gust freely from soft to subtle breezes
as April rains imbibe the dry brown earth.
Summer ventures back and forth on the sidelines,
hot and burning to lead prolific days
spewing vegetation, nature and humankind as they wait.
Life draws in the sun
and perspiration flows.
It splashes frolicking in the orange, red sun
failing to be chilled or cooled
as activity and growth spurt forth.
Summer stretches May to June,
then July to August and September,
The calendar, no longer true to its flow
lingers on through Indian summer
cool yet warming October.
A scene of awesome palette colors displayed
rising bold and brazen before an ice blue sky.
The trees of autumn appear in softly blushing colors
to November and December bleeds of hues
peaches, oranges, apple reds and umbers
Chrysanthemum, asters and blooms
bid farewell and a last summer goodbye to fall.
Winter drops down, released by a cold, north wind
that freezes what remains at the change of seasons.
Barren, naked trees and empty gardens
bland the once lavished earthen shades.
Prior months now fade away
hardened by December and January chills
prepping for the New Years snow
It lags January into February
bringing accumulations of ice and snow.
Everything sleeps, resting
huddled low in earth and home
waiting patiently for spring to return.
Lasagna, linguine, spaghetti, ravioli, macaroni too
Is there any pappardelle for me and for you?
Here is marinara sauce lavished on angel hair
Sure try to take a bite of my pasta if you dare.
Shrimp scampi, chicken, blackened salmon. Why not?
Bucatini, vermicelli and fettuccine hit the sweet spot
Chunky meat sauce with hamburger a plenty.
I would add more cheese, but there simply isn’t any.
That is not fettuccine you fake connoisseur,
It is obviously tagliatelle. Your pedigree unpure.
Campanelle noodles with her sweet ruffled edges
Rivals cavatappi which gives cheese rather soft ledges
Spiral shaped fusilli has groves and crevices galore.
Radiatori noodles? I love this the best out of my top four.
Elbow macaroni for the kids maybe. They think it’s fine.
But make a fancier dish if you don’t expect me to whine.
Butterfly like farfalle makes me smile and laugh.
Gemelli is too twisty; it deserves a lot of gibble and gaff.
Penne noodles are my least favorite. I do not like them at all.
I could only eat them six or seven days a week winter and fall.
BLASPHEMY
What the WORLD say you are
Versus what the WORD say you are.
They say "the child of human is human"
only because the human is borne out of woman.
They say "A puppy is a juvenile dog"
And it's birth have the others agog.
Baby goat is a kid that neither walks nor hoops.
The child of a Fox is a pups,
It hunt deep in the forest & mountain tops.
Baby elephant is a calf whose growth never stops.
The child of God is definitely a god.
Divinity birthed and blood bond,
Whisk back home with blast of the sound.
Despite the first fall jettisoned my crown
Apple bitten, inheritance burnt down,
Eden turned garden of no return & bytown.
The written word couldn't be erased.
Eternity is the duration our life is placed
To felicitate with our kind.
Everything produces after it kind:
Which means the child of God is a god
And never will he fall under his sword.
Protagonist of this truth vies with counterfeit.
Fanatics fails to comprehend it,
Fundamentalist fumes at the god idea.
Only the truth can set you free, my dear!
Salvation is the new birth into the "God clan".
The God bloodline runs deep in man.
With inflammatory loathsome lavished lines,
they cursed our blessed lives.
Blasphemy is their summary,
No thanks to their oblivion of divine chemistry.
The World fails to understand this word:
"Though you're IN this World,
Remember, you're not OF this World".
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© 29th December, 2022.
I have learned to love you
Long and tender
As my heart bids me to.
This love,
Flowing from life's pool
Lavished with lessons I've beheld
Weather or not I wanted to,
It is chiseled just for you.
As I look up
Hoping to transcend
The down side of moments
Laced with trials
As I linger, holding on
To what fuels my glee;
I shall love thee
With a love surpassing fear.
For you have been my friend
You have sheltered me
Held me with warmth
When I shivered,
Forgetting my strength.
Now, my heart pulsates
To journey fourth
Loving only you, for you.
*
(For my beloved husband, Joseph William Lewis), 11/4/15....
8/11/12
----------------------------------------------------------
There is a small soul within every crowd
A soft voice against the senile bickering of the strong
And the small souls wish they would listen
Wish you would listen
But the ears of the majority have been stuffed with pride
The puffed up breads have come out of the oven
And the oven closes on the non-finished
They were never finished
The masterpiece was torn
They ripped off its horn as they lavished in greed
Letting the soul bleed in the cruel wreck of silent despair
As they laugh knowingly and unmercifully
And I am left to listen to the blood trickling, groveling at my feet
I am left to the weak—the strong
The purified—the gone
I do not want to ruin everything by mending
As everyone is breaking I am bending
And my throat is constricted
The air has caught wind of a little soul’s voice
Begging for acceptance. . .for love
For an ear that isn’t breaded with self-indulgence
Crusted in disgust. . .drooping the damned
I am transformed into an image of a god
For this poor, sweet, ignored soul
Lies are his god. . .listen to my words
And rot
Listen as it constricts you—as I inflict you
It is better if I had never existed
I will not be worshipped in this prison!
You are everything to me and nothing
And the cursed breads rise
Sweet scents pour into your flaring nostrils
Watering my sunset eyes
And you see me watch as they turn their minds away
A guide towards lies and sticky debris
You follow the path not caring where it leads
Hearing the voices that refuse to clear their ears
And that therefore blind them
In worry and fear
I caress your tear and swallow
Your words like a vacuum
The disposable bag is always empty with dirt
Like a hearse I drive your body away
My blackness flaring
My horn honking
As everyone is staring. . .not wanting to know what I am carrying inside
Your age is not a piece
Of this purple puzzle unique
To your lavished life
You have cars that you give gas
But you ignore filling up little lad
Or little lady as a dad
So many fathers with less are bothered
Sacred fishing trips
Creeks lakes in which take a dip
You’ve been selfish and elfish
Your miniature application of affection
Doesn’t match or make a connection
Love is an action word
Not just felt and heard
But received with red receipts
How dare you never call
Never show up to talk
Never walk the holy walk despite flaws
Someone did father you
So you have a clue
What to do
There are men born of sin
Who had much less than
And they are awesome father’s awesome men
Don’t worry he was taught
To love you though you do not
Deserve that which you don’t give freely
You want a trophy
A son for cookouts and parties
When will you figure out you need
To start with an apology and
A conversation so deep
It erases the negativity
You are forgetting
Your seed is a part of your destiny
You can’t keep running
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."
Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In twilight’s deepening silence,
I sit by my window and look outside
And see the fields of ripe paddy awaiting clearance
Take me to those fields where I roamed as a child!
As I move my hands through the grooves of the past,
Before me opens lovely vistas of fun filled days- wild
Those carefree days of childhood flitted away too soon
Without leaving much of an impact in our lives
But how I yearn now for the pleasures so fleetingly gone!
Before me appear the faces of all dear ones, one by one
My mother’s smiling face and the love she lavished
Whose sweet concern and sacrifice time can never outrun
I see the stern but caring face of my dad;
The guardian and bread winner of our home
Also the naughty faces of my siblings and their pranks mad
Their merry laughter made our little nest ring
And our house, always left vibrant with hurrying feet
Oh, through ether, how my thoughts merrily wing!
Those were days when my heart never knew any sorrow
The time I remained an alien to life’s harrowing pain
Now in the upsurge of those memories, I wallow
I loath to tell myself… never will come those days again
And the ecstatic joys of innocent childhood, ever retain!
October.3. 2022
Writing Challenge- Past Memories
‘T’ Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Constance La France
Oh Dad, on this fine morn, let us go for a walk
The road is quiet and the meadows wide
On the way you can meet your friends and talk
All you need is to keep your gloom aside
Be assured we will be with you by your side
Dad, you were once such a charming debonair
How we want you to be smart as before
Of late you always recline on your arm chair
As children, we are upset to see you so sore
We wish to see the lost cheer, you quickly restore
Why keep unnecessary anxieties inside?
Please know that you have no cause for alarm
With children to support you by your side,
Believe that you are free of all tormenting harm
This positive thought you have to keep in mind, firm
The love you lavished on us, we will never ever forget
Don’t sit here so lonely, brooding and yawning
Your present lack luster spirit is all that we object
Going out and inhaling fresh air will be rewarding
Come on Dad! Let us go for a walk this morning!
Feb.14.2022
Quintain (English) Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Emile Pinet