Long Leis Poems
Long Leis Poems. Below are the most popular long Leis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leis poems by poem length and keyword.
Inspired By Connie Marcum Wong's Poem "Dreams Of India"
Dreams of India
Her music haunts me
in such a knowing way
it makes me weep
and causes my heart to ache.
I become homesick for her
scents, her sounds, her food,
her enchanting dance
which spawns dreams
of her romance.
I know in my heart
I have lived there,
I know, I have loved there.
Her poetry transcends
my spirit to encompass
a wholeness that is
so familiar to me.
I dream of the Ganges ,
and her gentle cleansing flow,
of reflections on its surface
when the moon is hanging low.
Of crickets singing nightly
to serenade me to sleep.
I dream of colors of the saris,
the beauty that they keep...
Of garlands placed with care,
a gajra in a maiden's hair
and the hues of floral leis.
I hold a reverence for Hindu
Devata and Devi.
I aspire to learn the sacredness
of varmala in the seeds of
past lifetimes I have shared.
A passion grows for those
whose love glows through their
auras to welcome strangers.
I'd love to share a cup of chai
to chat with friends in open air.
I long to return home, though
I have never been there.
Notes: *a gajra: flowers which females use as a decoration
for their hair.
*Varmala: is a tradition from ancient times where a beautiful garland of flowers symbolizes a proposal of marriage. In the tradition of Swayamvar. A female would choose her life partner from a group of suitors by placing a flower garland around the neck of her chosen man. Once the girl had made her choice, a marriage ceremony would be held right away.
MY TRIBUTE TO CONNIE MARCUM WONG
Connie never went to India, but she thought
she should have been born there…a mythical, mystical, sacred land of her
dreams ~ a Princess wearing
a Banarasi saree, a gajra on her hair…stunningly beautiful!
In my mind, she is there holding, for her beloved, a Varmala!
September 24, 2022
Short Connie Tributes - How Did Connie Marcum Wong Inspire You Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Two Aloha-shirted Hawaiians
of generous girth were strumming
their ukuleles
on a small stage in front of the hotel’s poolside bar
in the late afternoon,
rehearsing for the night’s performance.
It must have been the low season,
as both bar and pool were deserted.
and the singer, unburdened
by a leis-laden audience’s
Mai Tai-soaked expectations,
was going through a mele
as if trying it on for size,
his voice loose-limbed with an easy grace.
Wrapped in the ukuleles' lolling strains,
his falsetto notes tumbled out into an
uncongested airspace,
where no ceiling formed by small talk, disjointed laughter
or tinkling glasses impeded their progress,
so they unfurled their wings,
lifted themselves into the hibiscus-brushed breeze,
and climbed,
hopscotching and frolicking on their ascent,
skipping from Tiki torch to treetop to balcony.
Some straggled, loitered on windowsills.
Some, afraid of heights, fluttered back down
to rest on top of beach umbrellas
next to shadows of palm fronds.
Still others hang-glided out over the sand
and the lapis water,
lured by the marigold light.
So that, when they alighted on my
hotel room balcony ten floors above,
they were fragments,
excerpted by the intervening air
from the upflowing cascade into
a broken yet voluptuous murmur,
a soft, lilting South Seas benediction
floating around my head.
I’d just sat down in the balcony chair, alone,
my wife being inside the room busying herself
with the correct placement of luggage
after we’d checked in.
And so it was that I found myself looking out
at the beginnings of a sky-painting Maui sunset
accompanied by air that quietly sang.
Maybe it was my senses unwinding
after the bustle of the journey,
or maybe it was simply that I was caught unawares,
but the feeling of contentment,
the almost Zen-like awareness of the here and now,
that overcame me at that moment was something
no convergence of sights and sounds
has been able to reproduce in the 20 years since.
It was, to be sure, an experience I’d paid more than
a negligible amount of money for.
The irony is that it was the first time
I truly understood the simplicity of happiness.
Mahalo.
Why Gulliver Doesn’t Travel Anymore
C. G. Hart
i’m just one of many. No—
just one, trying to be one, of many.
an embryo in the belly of an ant
if ants were able to carry that weight.
I unfurl my folded flesh
in order to sail to Lilliput.
refused customs entry—for I had cracked
the other end of my breakfast egg.
my mooring at Brobdingnag lasted
until I bragged about bullying others
with our politics and endless wars.
a giant faux pas, making me feel small.
hiking through Kicking Horse Pass
into the fields of Houyhnhnms
tranquility blows a kiss of harmony
to an old mare of wisdom and grace—
while grazing on the sheaves of pure reason.
but my thoughts of staying were squashed.
Yahoos flipped the pasture to a pig pen.
snouts rooting greed and corruption,
off-gassing deliberate ignorance.
sails caught wind of the methane gas.
I raced away.
on Glubbdubdrib, leis hung round my neck
made of flowers of fentanyl and Xylazine—
an addictive floral fragrance lifting me higher.
no wonder we moved like zombies.
all so magical until I tore them off.
recovering, a bright light pierced my pupils—
the brilliance of the Laputans’ light:
math, music and astronomy—
ignoring everyone, everything—
an illumination, sun-bright.
a magnifying glass burns thought—like ants.
at Balnibarbi, fame-chasing scientists
tried to extract sunlight from cucumbers—
to be stored for later use.
they tried building houses from the roof down—
ground-breaking absurdity.
on Luggnagg, home of the Struldbrugs,
birthday candles were outlawed as a fire hazard—
talk about having your cake and eating it too!
birthday card verses spell a lifetime dream,
keeping the eternal birthday candles lit.
wrinkles are carbon dated for age.
elders dot the landscape as mounds of skin.
Halts & Son Funeral Home, long abandoned—
the island mortality rate is zero,
and will always be.
I pulled up anchor, craving an ending
after endless birthday cake, ad nauseam.
it’s time to blow out my adventure—
try to be more ant-like.
without the colony.
http://bit.ly/Segunda_Edição_Grátis_Poemas_Espíritas_para_Espíritos_Encarnados
Essa é a 2ª Edição - 2019 Poemas Espíritas para Espíritos Encarnados. Traduzido pelos autores da 27ª Edição em Catalão, Italiano, Alemão e Francês.
Cada poesia desse livro leva uma mensagem integral. Para a ciência e para a filosofia.
Como ciência, cada mensagem propaga fatos de uma nova ordem que não podem ser explicados por leis conhecidas. A partir desse ponto os autores, viventes, investigam, verificam e explicam. Em seguida deduzem as conseqüências e sugerem aplicações úteis no cotidiano.
Como filosofia, estabelece as consequências que advêm de tais fatos ? aceitar ou recusar sugestões ? e procura facilitar aos leitores (as) a compreensão de toda a realidade como doutrina moral.
A transformação das almas, ? dos seres humanos ? é proposta através da educação de seus sentimentos e da prática do amor.
Assim sendo, as mensagens estão distribuídas em três grandes blocos. No primeiro bloco (aproximadamente 200 páginas) as mensagens são publicadas considerando o pensamento de espíritos a partir do momento que decidem encarnar.
No segundo bloco (cerca de 300 páginas) as mensagens são proposições para educação de sentimentos e da prática do amor ? na vida pessoal e profissional de cada alma.
O terceiro bloco e último bloco trata de mostrar as expectativas do espírito tiradas de sua vivência com almas neste mundo. Abre as perspectivas radiantes do futuro e divulga a crença da existência de uma lei justa e equitativa. Lança um raio de esperança na noite de suas incertezas, e ensina a não tremer antes da morte.
Abra esse livro com confiança, leia-o atentamente, porque emana de duas pessoas encarnadas que, acima de tudo, desejam o melhor para cada pessoa nesse mundo.
Entre vocês, muitos podem rejeitar nossas conclusões; apenas um pequeno número as aceitará. O que importa! Nós não buscamos o sucesso.
Dois motivos nos inspiram: respeito e amor à verdade.
Dreams of India
Her music haunts me
in such a knowing way
it makes me weep
and causes my heart to ache.
I become homesick for her
scents, her sounds, her food,
her enchanting dance
which spawns dreams
of her romance.
I know in my heart
I have lived there,
I know, I have loved there.
Her poetry transcends
my spirit to encompass
a wholeness that is
so familiar to me.
I dream of the Ganges ,
and her gentle cleansing flow,
of reflections on its surface
when the moon is hanging low.
Of crickets singing nightly
to serenade me to sleep.
I dream of colors of the saris,
the beauty that they keep...
Of garlands placed with care,
a gajra in a maiden's hair
and the hues of floral leis.
I hold a reverence for Hindu
Devata and Devi.
I aspire to learn the sacredness
of varmala in the seeds of
past lifetimes I have shared.
A passion grows for those
whose love glows through their
auras to welcome strangers.
I'd love to share a cup of chai
to chat with friends in open air.
I long to return home, though
I have never been there.
1-2-19
*a gajra: flowers which females use as a decoration
for their hair.
*Varmala: is a tradition from ancient times where a beautiful garland of flowers symbolizes a proposal of marriage. In the tradition of Swayamvar. A female would choose her life partner from a group of suitors by placing a flower garland around the neck of her chosen man. Once the girl had made her choice, a marriage ceremony would be held gright away.
~Poem of the Day January 4, 2019~
~1st Place~
A BRIAN STRAND 1092
Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 20
~9th Place Premiere Contest~
Your Best Free Verse That You Wrote Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
'I Got a Darn NA Again' Contest
Sponsor Luloo
Free Verse Style Only Poetry Contest~N/A~
One year, over the ocean, Santa veered off course
His reindeer were battling a hurricane force.
As the sleigh went spinning and spiraling around,
an island appeared far below on the ground,
dotted with palms on a white sandy beach.
Santa took heart that land was in reach.
Through starlight’s glow and the light of the moon
Santa touched down — not a moment too soon.
A lavish Luau on Lahaula mats was laid,
a sumptuous feast over which a Kahuna prayed
with fish on ti leaves, tropical fruits, and eggs-fu-yung
colorful flower leis were draped after being strung
Pearly shells glimmered on every waving palm
Ukuleles were strumming to songs sweet and calm
while dancers swayed ami with soft hula hands.
Santa had landed in a paradise found.
His beard was snow white, his boots shiny black
and he wore a red suit with a red elfin hat.
“I’m Father Christmas,” and - I’m surprised too
that we celebrate in much the same way as you
with peace and goodwill, and with eating and singing.
‘Mele Kalikimaka,’ is our song of greeting
As we celebrate Christmas— in island style.
On they kept strumming, and singing and drumming.
while Santa felt tempted to stay and join in.
But time was short as Christmas morning grew near.
He had sworn a duty to all he held dear.
He saw a bright star rising up in the East
The time had come - he must leave from this feast
So he readied his reindeer to take to the stars
This was the latest — he’d ever been — by far
to bring toys to children all over the world
curled up in bed in their little dreamworlds.
“Come Dasher, Come Dancer, Come Prancer and Vixen.
Come Comet, Come Cupid, Come Donner and Blitzen.”
We’ll find our way here some other midnight
“Mele Kalikimaka to ALL - and to ALL a Good Night.”
Christmas on the pacific islands where it's summer everyday
is all about families, friends, joy, love and foods
Though we are many islands and ocean divided
We are forever united with one God
Some small islands may not have
the Christmas colorful lights but in all honesty
they have the best blinking sparkling
twinkling dazzling star lights
they're beautiful in their dramatic and
eye catching lights like no others
We celebrate the birthday of Jesus
in our unique and organic island ways
We always say Merry Christmas
It's never about the material gifts
It's all about the warm joy of Christmas
Singing in tunes or out of tunes
we are clapping our hands
side stepping moving along to the rhythm
We sing joyfully loud in His name
Born is the King our savior
Praising Him highly
Thanking Him humbly
Lifting up our hearts to Him fully
Everyone is glee on life
Everyone is glowing with joy
Everyone shake hands to forgive those
with guilts, dislikes or with differences
Everyone shares a hug or two to embrace
love from one to all
Every woman is wearing flowers in their hair
Every man is wearing leis around their necks
as it is an island style and proudly so
Everyone is wearing bright new cloths and
shoes but mostly sandals for the ladies or
flip flops preferably for the sandy areas
It's a day of joyful to spend with loved ones
Kids playing freely and cheerfully
Sharing fresh organic local foods and
coconut juices
Naturally alcohol free but drunk on Merry
Partying till the stars are twigging out
Collapsing with satisfying hearts
And this is how we celebrate Christmas
on the Pacific islands... Smile!
Written by Akkina R Downing
12-1-16
Zephyrs saunter past my nose
at speeds where one cannot appreciate
the foreign fragrances they often hold
before their currents dissipate.
Ripples congregate and flit
before my eyes with unbecoming haste;
they undulate their circular hellos,
then disappear without a trace.
Tis a pity that I must
resort to such an interposing crest,
a pocket watch suspended at my side
that stills the life in nature's breast.
"Quell your murmuring my dear;
I merely wish to scrutinize your cast,
and savor every ornament you bear,
for this quiescence cannot last!"
Temporal silence fills the air.
The scent of flowers in the frozen breeze
becomes more potent with each focused whiff,
and I may sample as I please.
Breathless butterflies recline
on blossom-tops as they have always done,
their wings like living portraits paralyzed,
presenting to the watchful sun.
Stagnant, but still animate,
the lake responds to my enlivened hand;
its liquid halos form and grace my touch,
then pause before their crowns disband.
Speechless echoes, rings of glass,
adorned the surface of the blue terrain,
their lucid leis refracting rays of light;
though fixed, their charm is not in vain.
Shame I couldn't catch the rain,
but I cannot command the clouds to pour,
so beautiful the diamond drops would be,
delayed above the verdant floor.
Time returns to rend my spell;
the lush environment regains its will,
so here I loaf alone on tender grass,
acknowledging what was once still.
Let's celebrate Lei day today
In pageants with a King and Queen
In flowers of each island's hue
A day in which we extol spring.
A day of Aloha's spirit
Where music's shared in hula dance.
Children wear each island's colors
In long satin gowns that enhance
The royal court displayed in schools
That's honored the Hawaiian way.
Let us not forget the May pole
Of other lands on our Lei day.
Take this garland of sweet flowers
Please wear it 'round your neck with pride.
Let us capture the Aloha spirit
Of love in which we all abide.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Happy May Day and Lei Day to everyone!
Note: On May first...May Day is known in Hawaii as
Lei Day. It is a celebration of Hawaiian culture, or the aloha spirit. People commonly celebrate by giving gifts of leis to one another. Schools also put on plays[2] and elect a Lei Day court of Kings and Queens to represent the different islands.[3] Each island has its own symbol that is composed of a color and a flower. Hawaii (the big island) is red, Maui is pink, Oahu is yellow, Molokai is green, Lanai is orange, Kahoolawe is gray, Kauai is purple, and Niihau is white. In the same order the flowers are lehua, lokelani, 'ilima, kukui, kauna'oa, hinahina, mokihana, and a pupu shell. Niihau is the only island without a plant as its symbol. The link below has more information about Lei Day.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lei_Day
when you leave home in your childhood,
ne’er returning
until Fall
after childbearing years,
oh the hues kaleidoscopically whorl in your eyes.
i’d nearly forgotten Oz,
dreamlike leaves clipped on trees —
dazzled us in Louisiana.
we wanted to follow its trek
to New Orleans.
yes, we had the boogie board blues
of Oahu, stirred by rapturous waves.
but oh how we craved to drive
off the island, and drive and drive,
on and on... for miles at a time.
we stopped to visit kith and kin,
didn’t fall into the Grand Canyon
even with three very small kids.
we hearkened to Carlsbad
with its alien eyes,
the open sky inviting to all,
then hiked the caverns
with one daughter
strapped to hubby’s chest,
two more kids in tow.
After these extremes the wonderland of trees
red, gold and burnt orange —
I Remember these!
how had i forgotten,
fooled by surf and turf —
the swoosh of sirens
rocking me to sleep,
the witch of the West
waving her wand,
“and now my beauties,
something with poison in it I think,
with poison in it, but attractive to the eye
and soothing to the smell…
poppies, poppies, poppies
will put them to sleep.” *
we left the land of lush leis
and ran right into
yummy Autumnal daze.
9/8/3019
*Quote from the movie The Wizard of Oz