Long Lithely Poems
Long Lithely Poems. Below are the most popular long Lithely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lithely poems by poem length and keyword.
On lonely paths I often roam
Through meadows and over hills
Like a gypsy cloud 'neath a blue sky dome
And through a field of countless daffodils
I stop to watch this field of gold
As they sway lithely in the breeze
Then I move on as new paths unfold
Heading home through a maze of trees
And in quite moments my thoughts would drift
To that resplendent field of daffodils
To my weary soul they give a lift
This treasure trove of golden thrills
Those daffodils in my mind do gleam
As I slip off in a cloud of dreams
Contest: Prose vs Poetry and the classics
Rewrite of William Wordsworth poem: - "I Wandered Lonely as a cloud"
Written: May 12, 2024 For Constance La France Contest
1. "I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..." E.E. Cummings
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Across my soul, only words wave how I feel.
Blithely bond dwells in esoteric symbiosis.
Compassion soft touch, a salve of kindness.
Devotional spark shines brightly in our hearts.
Elysian hearts beat swiftly as we run closer.
Fastidious heart has dictated your destiny.
Gamboled, as it's you who the moon conveyed.
Healing hands; let me feel your pulse inside me.
Intricate hearts rise beyond souls' hope.
Jaunt whispering all that summer sings is you.
Kismet canorous night, I carry your heart in me.
Longing souls find solace in love—an ethereal sight.
Maunder, never stop till I sense your proximity.
Nebulous love rises, dancing as a bird in sky.
Ogle into my soul every time you cry in pain.
Pellucid love is a constantly shifting insight.
Quintessence depicts me as stuck in a quagmire.
Ravel to warm my heart when forlorn and outcast.
Seraphic, sublime smile and love without delay.
Triumphant divine bliss bursts in and consoles.
Unity's symphony, a powerful and clear choir.
Victorious souls emerge —overcoming all fear.
Wisdom whispers remain—a gift to cherish.
Xylophone tune with a silky caress and first kiss.
Yearning souls sip dulcet nectar on silky skin.
Zeal is for you alone, veiled in a dainty violin.
Twirling around the glossy smooth floor
Racing with friends on roller-skates
Tossing my hair as I glide across the room
Feeling so certain that this is my destiny
Weaving through the crowd lithely, swiftly
Smiling at everyone, my heart filled with laughter
Lighting the entire room with the heartfelt joy
Discovered in this place where I owned elation
Bending and looping through the noisy rink
Listening to the tender voice of Bob Segar or
Possibly, AC/DC – Lynyrd Skynyrd or some
Other rock n’ roll group who teens revered
Whirling through the gathering of adolescents
My heart was filled with hope that I would find
The chosen one, the boy who I was sure of
A dream of mine, who read all those love stories
Twisting and turning to the sound of Meatloaf’s voice
My heart raced with delight when I saw him smiling
The one I knew would be for me, forever and always
Going down in history… nowadays, I kiss him each morning!
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
January 9, 2021
That electric energy rolled in like a wave.
It hit everything in its path.
Conversations paused and
The clinking of silverware stopped.
A chilling silence enveloped the restaurant.
Even in my secluded rear booth,
I knew she had arrived.
The temperature was unusually heated.
The women leaned over their plates,
Exposing low bustlines and
Licking red plush lips after every bite.
The men kept the wine glasses full.
They nodded, listening to lilted voices,
While stroking soft hands
With nails that matched perfect smiles.
She knew, just from standing in the door,
He was already here.
She slid lithely into the booth opposite him.
A waiter appeared with drinks,
He had ordered knowing
Her tastes in aged whiskey.
He smiled warmly at her,
A hot flush of warm air
Seemingly swirling around her.
Like a warm caress.
First like two fingers down her cheek.
Then a gentle touch under her ear.
She bent her head naturally into the touch.
The hand next so soft,
massaging her shoulder.
It felt so good she moaned aloud,
Before catching herself.
But this all was over,
As fast as it started.
And a piece of small folded paper
Was before her on the table.
He watched her eyes shine
As she read his offer.
She smiled.
Those blue eyes met mine.
In the kitchen a plate crashed.
A male voice was yelling loudly.
This made the waiter walking by us
Startle and fall into our table,
Spilling my drink into my lap.
A few tables over
A couple were drunkenly
Arguing over the cost of their bill.
Instead of handing him a napkin,
I gave him that paper back
With a counter offer.
I waited politely until the table was cleaned,
And he had received a fresh beverage.
I made sure to smile sweetly.
"Karma, if you want that damn human
that badly, you can have him this time.
I get him next time."
"Lucifer darling, of course."
Karma shot back her glass of whiskey,
Rose from the booth
Bent to kiss the Devil on the cheek,
And walked towards to door.
He lays on the couch.
The morning sun shines through the blinds Reminding him of another night passing.
He lived through the high and drunkenness.
How?
Yellow spreads her flowered self all along my lane,
asking only for some warmth and a little rain.
She might pose as Daffodil or enjoy the fame
of the seeded beauty which bears our sun’s own name.
Yellow makes the perfect gift - roses for the friend
whom you know is sure to be faithful till the end.
Yellow has a smooth gold hue stirred into our tea
as the nectar made for us by the honey bee.
But she isn’t always sweet. Yellow is a tart
when she shows herself to us with a lemon’s heart.
But she tastes so wonderful even when not sweet,
buttering the popcorn that most folks love to eat.
Nature uses her to paint over leaves of fall.
Used by man, she covers curbs or a bedroom wall!
Yellow whizzes through the streets like the cabs downtown -
yet acts like a traffic light when we should slow down!
In the jungle Yellow moves lithely on the back
of a tiger, blending in with its stripes of black.
We can smell, taste and see her in so many things.
I can even hear her when my canary sings.
Yellow, keep on shining in wings of butterflies,
and keep looking down on us from your sunny skies.
Written Feb. 7, 2014
Lithely moving
they cross the dance floor in swirls
their feet barely touching the ground
as they spin in perfect rythme around
smiles light their faces
as he dips her to the floor
and up again
into a waltz in breathtaking time
so skilled are they you think that they simply float
until their perfect moment comes all undone
by another couple who are having fun
as they cavort around the ballroom floor
it doesn't get any better than this
they think
as they see the other couple walk out the door-
fractured inklings of why this could be
haunts the couple that lost the contest
and they wondered why me?
They had practiced and practiced for this very dance
a dance that drew parallel lines to the couples romance
each step
each hand hold
practiced till they had fabulous timing
but now they were suddenly
adept at pining...
never mind
never mind
we will rise again
and this time we will make it the tango
aware of where we place our steps
perfect and precise
neat and free
holding our boundaries
from the others that be.
*** THE BALLET LIFE ***
Compounding,
Ballet grows within
Deeply sculpting over the lengths
Of muscles, nerves and arteries,
With the heart and mind, so
The dancer’s developed love
For ballet never dies
Nor ever weakens —
Those edifying arms and legs
Flowing streams of beauty
That lithely unite to
Lift music
To sublime dimensions
In combinations of elegance
For the eyes
For sights
Well beyond mere envisioning
Or imagined choreographies
Of daydreams —
Like picturing
Swaying leaves on
Summertime’s dancing trees…But
There is much more.
Ballet displays the possibilities
Of striving for higher goals;
Of ever working toward the heights
Of expression and agility’s perfection
In motions
In rythms
In physical, lyrical grace
Joined to creation
By committment — devotion —
Breathing into music’s scores
Yearning
To become essence, and excellence,
Accepting the never-leaving,
No ending
Spirit of ballet,
Which stays once it’s melded within
And
Magnifying,
Never dies…
(Dedicated nto all those who have held the thought, “I will dance til I die.”)
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 2/4-5/23
Thanks be to God…
A shadow runs across a meadow
a hawk above me on a cloudless day.
A high prescience
for a moment
overhanging a far heaven.
It is not stooping or diving,
not reaching or snatching,
it is not bent to the wind like an arrow,
nor hunting.
When Goshawks hunt
they trace small circles,
seeking a rustle and bustle,
tell-tale signs of scurry.
For now it is not compelled or held
by any thought or sight,
lithely it sails,
nonchalantly counting coup,
jousting with the sun on lancing wings.
A raptor cleaving its authority.
Swift winged conqueror!
An ascendency unmatched
by anything else this day.
One day I wandered to a meadow where
nature’s springtime was beyond compare,
for lovely flowers I saw dancing there
in May’s breeze, and fragrant was the air.
A woman swayed among the blossoms unaware
that I – a stranger – was entranced and could not bear
to turn away, so I crouched down low that I might stare
at this lass who lithely twirled and her face so fair!
Yellow daisies decorated her long hair
which shone like gold in sun’s dawning glare.
Her essence was that of someone with no care.
Alas! She spotted me. I’d given her a scare.
As she fled, I felt a sort of strange despair,
for the ending of an all-to-brief fantasy affair!
I see phantasms floating through the billowing early morning mist
where I stand alone by the black water as its ever
probing tongue licks gently at the granite rocks that line the shore.
Like stone sentinels the fog creates images of snow leopards that seem to stalk the shadows,
lithely twirling as the ebony water casts polymorphous creatures into the living mist.
These images remind me of you.
Your long feline movements leave me breathless.
The touch of your delicate finger tips warm me to my core
as you gently stroke my hair, touch my hand, caress my shoulder.
On this chilled morning as I stand here thinking of you,
your long slim body tattoos images across my mind,
Images that will never leave me,
Images I can never forget,
Images of beauty and emotions that I can see in vivid colors,
Images of the feelings I have locked deep inside of me.
You are the beauty in my world,
the light,
the curtana,
blunted by the haze of your own emotions,
never allowing the warmth of the emerging golden dawn
to lift the vapor of your world,
leaving the sweet dew drops
of your desires hidden within your denials,
always to remain in your darkness.
And if these words are cause for a single tear to drip from your smiling eyes
let it rest upon your gentle cheek for the briefest of moments,
for a breath that lasts an eternity in my heart.
Allow me for that instance this single indiscretion.
Though in reality it can never be,
let me dry your sweet tear
as my soft lips caress your tender skin,
and the clouds slowly fade leaving the warmth of your soul
shining brightly in your beautiful fantasy.
02/08/17