Long Leaved Poems
Long Leaved Poems. Below are the most popular long Leaved by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leaved poems by poem length and keyword.
Melodies pour out from my soul.
They float up towards the stars,
swirl in and around clouds,
swerve, spiral and swoop like swallows
in search of their cozy homely branches
of the tall stately cedar trees.
Melodies of my passionate serenade,
a dulcet harmonious canticle of praise,
listen, they sing of my undying love
for you, just for you and none other than you.
For I was made for you as you were made for me.
What can come between us, my loved one?
Melodies of mine whirl glide and waltz,
like a breeze among the thick-leaved trees,
under the canopy of star-lit night sky and settle
upon your luscious lips in a long endearing kiss.
An Old Oak Tree stands proud and tall
Through time it probably has seen it all
As time went by from year to year
It looked closely never fear
Standing magnificent for over 800 years
In a meadow frequented by Horses and Deer’s
In its earliest years it would have seen many a sight
Of riders on horseback be it a King or a Knight
Who’s Armour would have shined and glinted in the Noonday Sun
As they Hunted animals just for fun
Many a King may have come and gone
Many a Sunny day and bright Moon shone
Its leaves a fluttering in the wind and rain
As centuries came and past in vain
As time went by things moved on and on
The Knights they had come and gone
As centuries passed by the tree stood tall
Through all those years it had seen it all
Even Lovers in the pale moonlight
Lay on the ground holding each other tight
What else went on only the oak tree knows
Time like a river just flows and flows
The Sunlight still glints on its weathered leaves
Hanging from its branches like badly ripped sleeves
Now growing old looking tired and worn
Standing next to a field of corn
This giant of nature still standing tall and proud
Would forever stand out from the crowd
Many a day I have passed by this wise old tree
Sees how it’s leaved glistened as the look down at me
It will probably stand for many more years
Each season it’s leaves will fall like tears
But for me it will always raise smile upon my face
My quiet and truly wondrous place.
In the moonlit shadows
faint and distant images race across the water surface,
blue on grey clouds smoky eye the sky
with checkmate figures and patterns in the darkness,
it is that recognized time and the midnight hour.
Etched among the willows
sings the evening swallow
lost in its shrill and silent interlude
that whistles down chasing the wind.
Between the firefly lights in the clover fields
and the silently stilled pond
she sings alone unfrightened
hidden safe beneath the thick leaved oak.
Drawn up by the wind to explore the vast horizon
sings the evening swallow calling softly out
into the oncoming darkness unseen, unrecognized, entranced
by the permanence and passage of time
chasing the fleeting aftermath of days long passed.
Like a blind obsession
sings the evening swallow
calling out in lonesome song
who does your crying now.
Caren sat inside her treehouse
Sequestered sixteen feet in the air
Camouflaged by two sparkly leaved cottonwoods
The Della Bettas were arguing loudly
In Italian
They live up the block on the corner
In a green house
There was no denying their tones
She reached into her book pile
Librarians limited her to seven books a day
What to read first? They were all hand-picked this morning
She chooses seven every morning in the summer
She looked up from her pirate adventure
Hearing two happy women
Meeting at the clothesline, pinning up laundry
Her mother and a neighbor, their happiest time of the day
He's tiny
barely one inch long,
stubby tail
too short to grab or hold.
Glossy black ebony fur
so thick and full
reflected in the rays of sun
too brief to be seen.
He's fast and quick
slithering between the stones
appearing in the hidden crevices
then gone.
The seeds are set
clustered in a dish
prepped for bird, squirrel or chipmunk
but from the earth below he rises.
Rippled fur to find a place
taking seed hurriedly
just one or two
then disappears.
Beneath the stones somewhere
below the piled branches
in between the scattered leaved
he slips into a burrowed home.
There lies piles of sequestered seed
stored dry, ready and safe
for the cold winter ahead
the stockpile haven
of a tiny shrew.
I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists
of wilderness,
only found in
woeful woodland.
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a
forsaken rainforest.
Misguided on
delusional paths,
where spring-tides
mirror liquified colors
of warm diamond tears
I’ve suppressed
behind ice blue sighs.
And I’ve seen
splintered petals
beneath thick-leaved
jewel orchids,
that surrendered
to greying leaves
on tainted twigs
and broken branches.
I’ve walked through
fields of thorns
where the
musky scent
of roses remained
a poison to
my aching soul.
So, why does it
feel like I’m chained
from vines of changes,
that suffocate
the sun within me,
crucifying the fragility
of premature
begonia beginnings?
Am I to follow
the darkness,
to cast away the evil,
constantly pushing me
into a cave of
cacophonous silence?
As I see beyond
the gossamer veil,
hiding sharpened talons
of treacherous eagles-
flying amongst
vicious vampires;
emerald foes
masked as friends,
feeding my conscience
with cruel concoctions,
oblivious to the truth,
that I am a bark believer
of marigold miracles.
So let the
steel black breeze
and the
faceless ghosts
of fleeting time,
witness how I
rise against
wicked wolves
lurking behind
stars within
a chiffon laced
canopy of nightfalls.
For, I am more
than the empty labels
you’ve placed,
like the shame,
I’ve buried beneath
lyrical lies drizzling
from vanilla skies.
I see beyond the
sea-snake crown
of thick-leaved jewels,
as a gossamer veil
conceals jealous goblins
shape-shifting above
a snow-dappled forest
of freckled weeds…
there third-eye rests
amidst tangerine tentacles
tearing my cinnamon
green clemency
glazed with holographic
lime gold clover….
now I’m torn
between wicked willows,
and a weeping angel,
vying for my
peridot throne,
embellished with
envious emeralds,
piercing passionately
through sparkling scales
of mermaid skin,
as peacock oceanic fairies
within skeleton silence
flutter mint-teal memoirs
of a narcissistic mantis~
tangling starry soliloquies..
there eagle-spotted
mantas swirl across
moon-kissed streams
unfolding marine magnificence
through mysteriously
malevolent musings..
I care not for the
rustic trinkets you wear
on fiery feathers
like cluttered calligraphy~
screaming in
high-pitched stillness,
longing to be seen and heard,
their faded fragrance
glows now within
tranquil twilight roots
like a forgotten facade,
while I sit secluded~
in my flaming coral garden,
as the modest maiden
of the rosemary sun,
unmoved and unbothered,
by the wailing wind
carrying notorious narratives
of eclipsed echoes
from sorrowful souls,
where hollow fangs
caress cruel
currents of chaos,
oblivious to the
sonatas of jasmine rain,
for I sing not for the spiteful
tides of tethered turquoise,
rippling with
salt-soaked souvenirs
mirroring the
untamable agony
of lost ancestors.
I turn to my girl highlighting Mayday is near
A day of spectacle that the whole village views
There's Jesters of folly and Knights without fear
Witnessing lances and jokes, always going askew
To view such we can venture along different ways
We can stroll by the river listening to many sounds
In awe as we walk amidst most wondrous displays
That on any given day beautiful vistas abound
Decisions, decisions, as we contemplate which way
It's such a special day wondering what to wear
Beauty personified will my Olive be on this day
Knights or Royal Princes, all they can do is stare
So tomorrow we've decided to be our chosen route
Two hearts in decision, declaring what's their suit
Mayday morn now greets as I turn next to me
She my guiding light as beautiful as the dawn
Excitement illuminates for into her eyes I see
Onto my back I lie, that feel she's now upon
Into this day we go heading along the river
Crystal clear translucent such serenity in it's flow
Under greened canopies cooled shaded deliver
Wafting leaved dress in delightful fanned throw
We sense the clearings near for scents we sense
Sporadic clusters in capture of welcoming eyes
Mayday games have started, distant heard suspense
Knights on horseback mounted, now in espy
Now we're in amidst encapsulated we now are
She's here to cheer, her Sir James, soon to spar
Balcony she now awaits, white steed he's now astride
Blinkered pairings gallop towards intended foe
To win this Mayday he, to fight for her his bride
Eliminate his enemy, witness his crimson flow
His lance in now connect, thrown metal disperses
Petals of beauty hurled of rainbows selected
Images of we, now thinking marital rehearses
To know on this day, her intended she's elected
Moments of their previous now in recent past
Knowing they're now free in kaleidoscopic stream
Spectrum of feelings now in view full cast
In colourful extremes, fight for your dreams
.
Valentine evening
At 17:21:00, you called to say
You would come to my place.
After you left, it took me more than one day,
To process what you have come to say.
You wanted to let me know,
It was time for me to let you go,
You even tried to find me an alternative.
The only reason you gave was
You will go overseas in July this year.
Yes, by then it would have been two years,
Since I requested you to take care of me.
You enjoyed our partnership,
Although you costed me to lose BB.
At the time, I did not understand why,
Now, when you say good bye,
You made me realised,
On this valentine day,
You made excuses to leave me.
Someone did say, they did not want to judge,
But the system you used was really suck.
It lets certain people taking advantage of the situation,
And I have become the victim,
Because I was so vulnerable.
It did not matter which way I turned,
I really did not know what to do.
It seemed obviously,
Everyone just leaved me.
What was wrong with me?
Today, I picked up a book
"How to break up with your friends" by Erin Falcone.
Do I really need to read it?
I have not read any book for years.
On this day, I also finished some projects.
It took me weeks to do it.
I was so proud with my works,
They helped me remembering of my friend,
But equally, they hurt as marking a relationship ended.
BB, you could never guess what my projects were.
Plentiful clover carpet compresses
Set up, sat on, months of manuals
Scripted mouth emits, put to practical test
Three leaf varieties finally defeated
Select among smutty monotonous menu
Virtuous entry through untainted eyes
Coveting customer jumps at his chance
Increased green providence giving
In response to her simplistic pitch
From a patch of debauchery, needing more
While desperate to escape, proposal hatched
Parched plucked stem becomes framed image
Portrait four concedes its feature
Velour wrapped, museum artefact
Standing on verbal agreement alone
From her newborn forty year old soul
Sighs, exclamations, ancient albums emerge
Butterfly Marilyn Munroe emolument ascends
Nectar injector helicopter hopeful clover hoverers
Pick three leaved generic green challenges -
Platter of arrangement layers sensation
Sweets tweased by fingers allergic to trauma
Avoiding at all cost chaos of civil gambles
Defence of dollars steps boldly, saves them
Delivers love instant pizza piping pineapple
Peppers boundaries between enamour and business
Eaten with gusto of negotiations fixed
Good luck grabs devoid of caution
Displays desired quatro leaf, ego inflation
Sprite ties his Tinkerbell in tacit consent
20th August
Renting Return Lust