Long Look out over Poems
Long Look out over Poems. Below are the most popular long Look out over by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Look out over poems by poem length and keyword.
You look sideways at me
I look straight on at you
You glance towards me
I stare at you
memorize the stiches of your coat
they are uneven
it must have been handmade
You look up at the sky
I look at your shoes
They are slim and obviously Italian
You've been traveling in Europe
I look at your cheekbones
You stare off at a tree
It is a beautiful tree
though I cant see why it has captured you
I' look at your hands
they're nice hands
expressive hands
strong enough
big enough but not too big
kind hands
You turn to the left to look out over the gray blank sea
I know we're not going to see each other again
Even the stark greyness of the Cape in late November is more compelling to you in this moment than I am
I am dancing colors
I am a fragrance
of clean smells
I am sauce and sassiness and ideas and concepts
and wants
God how I want you
But you would rather look at greyness
I will never see you again
Thank you for the kiss on the dock
Thank you for the dinner and the dance
Thank you for the moment in the library when you looked into my eyes for one very long minute and I felt alive
Just before you asked me to the dinner dance
But you seem to have lost your moorings
You are like a boat
A buoy
or a wooden raft
floating
you don't know North from South
East from West
Now your sails are not catching the wind
You are sort of flapping
carelessly
aimlessly
I watch you like watching a crab scuttle up the beach
Fascinated
I will never lose my way
( That's a lie)
Tonight
You were simply a dock
that I pulled up to ...tied off
Tomorrow the sun will rise
and I will feel full and excited
I'll move on fast
throw off your bow
You were like the wild north wind for me tonight
for about 5 minutes
The wind is fickle
When the wind changes I tact
While you were in my sails I did love you
Like any sailor is impassioned by the beautiful wind
that suddenly drives him forward
the exquisite unbelievable .... unspeakable
tarp full sail pulling hard
I will miss you
But only like I always miss the wind when it dies
No more and no less
my sails will be full and my beautiful ship will be headed out to God knows where
But you my questioning friend will not know enough to follow
You will be still looking left and seeing only the gray of Cape Cod in Winter and
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
Far out on Neptune's briny sea,
my hammock holding still
while the ship slowly rocks side to side,
tired and lonely, I close my eyes.
In this darkness I can hear
the constant lapping of the waves
against my ship's hull from bow to stern
and imagine the breeze's gentleness
as it caresses each delicate drop
before it splashes back to its home in the sea.
In this quasi-conscious state of being
My attention is drawn to an aroma so sweet
it reminds me of vanilla or, maybe, jasmine
rooted in a desert hillside mingling
with the cleanness of a Spring rain.
Am I really smelling this
or is my heart playing with my mind?
I am now imagining my arms
wrapping around your body,
breathing in your essences
after my tall ship returns to port.
How many days and hours will that be?
The sea is my home and I know it well,
but am cruising in unfamiliar waters
whose depths, denizens and perils
have yet to be discovered and charted.
With fair winds and a forgiving tide,
how fast can we go?
Is there such a thing as sailing too fast?
How many knots can that be?
Every moment ticking by creates another knot;
one that ties itself inside of me.
Sleep is not forthcoming;
I stir, my breathing heightens,
I slip out of my hammock
and my steps bring me to the deck
where I longingly look out over those ripples
separating me from you.
Surrounded by the pitch black of night I'm enheartened
by the moon's beams dancing like water nymphs
on the milky crest of every wave
filling my eyes with sensuous beauty.
My heart feels warm and vibrant now
and I turn my gaze upon that splendid orb
slowly spanning midnight's sky,
for somehow I know across this expanse of ocean,
you are looking at it too.
I continue my journey into the darkness,
chasing the moon to be closer to you.
Tonight, standing on this cold forlorn deck,
I wish I could reach up into the heavens,
pluck that chromish gem from the sky,
and give it to you to hold forever.
Back in my hammock I think and wonder,
when this ship, again, drops anchor in port,
will you be at dockside waiting for me?
When my sails are relaxed,
my jib tied down resting in its place,
and I finally set these seadog's legs upon the shore,
will you be there?
I am but a lonely sailor
looking for your outstretched arms
to guide my heart into a safe harbor...
copyright2000acb
Here, this day, on this inglorious
Field
Thy vain struggles will count no
Valour.
All hope now abandoned,
Imminent defeat unconcealed;
Erstwhile countenance display
Such waxen, languid pallor.
Surround by your dwindling
Forces
Ye will but sadly find...
That the stout keep of your
Valiant fortress is all but breached,
Once strong foundations failing -
Wherest badly undermined!
For a rigorous examination beckons
ye;
Stood before impassioned jurors
Chosen from the feared and all
Powerful families of the ignoble
Medici.
Black curtains drawn back from
Deep reveals
That look out over the enlightened
Years...
Where conceals...
Hidden between leafs of peremptory
Decree:-
A blight spread upon these lands,
Inflicted from Romes insidious
Plans -
That cause stain upon the
Renaissance of a golden century!
When clapping thunder breaks and
Brazen lightening clashes
Still I would know ye again:
A pounding, frenzied reflex devoid
Of all Godly purpose -
Detached from any amount of
Blame!
For I have sought ye out, O lowly
Meretrix;
Heaping upon you with bondage
Enforced through servitude and
Shame;
And I, O lowly Meretrix,
I...hereby command thy name.
A fastidious Advocate of intellectual
Character
Shallst I elect,
He who be a practitioner of
Theological proposal unrefrained,
To represent you -
Raised from the rank files of the
Dead and slain!
A public gallery, wherest seated,
Ghostly phantasms
That I purposefully select;
And for a judge - A deathly one:
Ill measured, worshipfully detached,
Beneath it all,
And hopelessly arcane.
This "Innocent" fool, dressed in
Guise of highest ecclesiastical
Enforcer,
Perpetuated a medieval Inquisition,
Both protracted and prolonged,
That openly boasted and rejoiced
In its zealous slaughter!
Thereby spawned a terrible edict -
"Ad Extirpanda":-
Cannon law that advocates the
Use of "Legitimate torture"!
Know thee also, Meretrix, the Pius
Pontiff,
Heaven sent,
Who in his greater wisdom
Convened over
The council of Trent:
Four hundred years spanning
Across a Reformations fears;
Reaffirmed when Pope John,
In reflective reiteration,
Was heard to chillingly hiss:
"What was...Still is"!
TO BE CONTINUED...
As I look out over the water
So many memories wash over me
When I need some time away
Here is where I want to be
Even though I know I shouldn’t keep coming here
There's something about this place that draws me in
And I just can't stay away
I tell myself it's not the memories from back then
But then I'm left to wonder
What is it about this very place
So many memories I just can't shake
Somehow I find so much peace in this space
I've tried to find somewhere closer to home
But nowhere I ever go can compare
And even in being here
The pain from those memories I still bare
I keep coming back for one last time
But in my mind I know the truth
No matter where I run I can't escape my past
And the beauty of this place
Outweighs any pain you ever put me thru
After everything that happened between us
I never thought I'd get over you
But here and now I know
That over you I may never really be
But to live without you
Has become so much easier for me
And though I never thought it possible
I've learned to love once more
I'm so much happier than I have been in so long
It's nothing like the love I felt before
But then again how can you really compare
No two loves are ever the same
And I think that was something I had to learn
To you my words may seem so lame
But to me they are words of wisdom
Words I learn from, words I live by
In my life and in my poems every day I grow
Learning more and more
That words my mother once spoke
Are becoming more and more true
As I learn that even without you
After everything you put my heart thru
I can, I will, and I have loved again
The pain I had to bare because of you
The tears I shed
And the loves I lost
Were only stops along the way
Building me up higher and higher
Proving that within those secrets I held inside
Was a strength I was never certain I had
But one that has brought me here
Stronger than I was before
And yet not as strong as I will one day
Growing with each that passes
Knowing that with all that I've been thru
There's nothing I can't face
No pain I can't bare
And no scar on my own heart
That won't find it's own way to heal!!!!
AN UNMOCKED ALLEGORY
(A Message In And For Each Day Of Ourstory)
Granny said that all things have a seed
and that every seed produces its own
thing to be reaped: good or bad:-
At the time, it was hers and the bible study
lesson to be taught and remembered; however,
at that time I didn’t get the full allegorical meaning
of what they were saying: good or bad:-
Now, at this time of grey hair and aged awareness,
I finally realize and know that we all scatter and sow
seeds—either to the flesh or to the spirit—and what
is reaped, is according to that which we freely sowed.
Now, as I look out over our urban fields, I
realize that many moons ago, syndrome-like
sowers of the flesh came like thieves in the night
and scattered their seeds of corruption everywhere.
Some fell onto the paved streets and were wheeled;
Some fell onto the sidewalks and were foot-crushed;
Some fell into the gutters and were washed away;
Some fell, however, into cracks and needled bushes:-
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black-on-Black crime
misery;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black Families falling
apart;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black apathy and its
depression;
From these seeds we’ve destroyed each other physically
and mentally;
From these seeds we’ve done the oppressors’ harvesting of
our demise.
Now is the time to re-plow our domestic fields with the
plow of the spirit;
Now is the time to rid our domestic fields of wind-blown
evil seeds;
Now is the time to take back the stolen they took from
our plowed rows;
Now is the time to rage defense against all forces that seek
to destroy us!
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest season is
dawning;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest coming is
plentiful;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; time to take back the stolen
gift of freedom;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; freedom’s vision awaits its
due reality.
Come! Let us get ready Black people; reapers must be as equal as
is the harvest!
AN UNMOCKED ALLEGORICAL FLASHBACK
When we were young and growing up,
Granny said that all things have a seed,
And that every seed produces its own
Things to be reaped: good or bad:-
At the time, it was hers and the bible study
Lesson to be taught and remembered; however,
At that time, I didn’t get the full allegorical meaning
Of what she was saying: good or bad:-
Now, at this time of grey hair and aged awareness,
I finally realize and know that we all scatter and sow
Seeds—either to the flesh or to the spirit—and what
Is reaped, is according to that which we freely sow.
Now, as I look out over our urban fields, I
Realize that many moons ago, oppressive-syndrome
Bigoted sowers came like plowing evil in the night,
Scattering chaining seeds of corruption everywhere:-
Some fell into the holes of our so-called paved streets;
Some fell into the many cracks of our rock-laid sidewalks;
Some fell into the gutters and were washed around our homes;
Some fell even around the wet soil of our leaking water pumps:-
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black-on-Black crime misery;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black Families falling apart;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black apathy and its depression;
From these seeds, we’ve destroyed each other physically and mentally;
From these seeds, we’ve done the oppressors’ harvesting of our demise.
Now is the time to replow our domestic fields with plows of change;
Now is the time to rid our domestic fields, uprooting sown evil seeds;
Now is the time to release those kidnapped chained into new-day slavery;
Now is the time to wage hell against all forces that still seek to destroy us!
Come! Let us get ready my people; the harvest season is dawning;
Come! Let us get ready my people; the coming harvest is plentiful;
Let us get ready my people; time to take back the stolen gift of freedom;
Let us get ready my people; freedom’s vision awaits its due reality:-
Let us get ready my people; reapers must be as equal as is the harvest!
Unrepentant Miners
I look out over what should have been viridian fields
Where daisy and dandelions
Found their picturesque beauty
Wild and free
I felt the meadow of summer skies
Lay their heads beneath your bare feet
To kiss at your ankles with their secrets
Wild and free
I saw the written verses
Your laughter in April dales of rain
Beneath a willow tree you came to me
Wild and free
I heard you dance on dewdrops
From gentle hills to mountain heights
You pirouette in my eyes
Pirate of my sighs
Wild and free
…………………..but the wealth of your heart
is a treasured prize
to another gluttonous search for gold
unrepentant miners gouge
excavate your beauty
to an open cast
terraces dug deeper than the scars
and though it hurts to see
your dream piled like so much unwanted earth
still given time
in your own clouds of love
those bright yellow flowers
lift up the heads again
but still they search for the precious of you
they couldn’t see and never will
they claw at your soul
for riches they just can’t understand
and think a balm of shovelling it all back
you might grow again for them
they just don’t know that the dusty roads
have trampled you there
Wild and free
I touched the meads of winter skies
Lay their icicles beneath your feet
To kiss on your eyes with their secrets
Wild and free
I saw the unwritten pages
Your joy in the hidden streams
There beneath the willow tree when you came to me
Wild and free
And I watched you sing with lightning
From the echoed prowess of your storm
You dazzle in my eyes
The sweet pirate of my sighs
Wild and free
…………………………..but to them your heart is a mine
open and cast with the scars
they are just too greedy to see
they think in the fields
where your treasures dwell
just iron and steel to build their world
and leave you a pit
to get on with your life
any way you can
I look out over your verdant fields
Where daisy and dandelions fall like gems
Found their prophetic serenity
Wild and free
They noticed from the time when they were young…from before they all could speak…their father’s way of looking at the world was different…some would say…unique.
Every morning he’d open the front door…look out over the land and to the sky above…then he’d turn around and say… “Today…children…it looks a lot like love.”
Rain and shine, good and bad he believed this is the world as God designed it…
"But she also filled it up with love." He’d say, "And it’s up to us to find it!”
Which is why every day he was on the lookout for the love he constantly spoke of…
and every day, wherever he went, he would call attention to that love.
He’d point out a smile exchanged by strangers…watching anybody share…his children were amazed…how he’d find love anywhere.
He’d show them a mother comforting a crying baby…a family holding hands…and slowly the more love that he’d show them…they more they came to understand.
Once they learned this lesson…once they knew what they were looking for…they began to find love in places where they hadn’t noticed it before.
It showed up at family dinners, good night kisses in their rooms…it showed up in the rain that helped the flowers bloom.
It showed up in people helping other people…in a wave to someone they didn't know.
It showed up anywhere they happened to be…and anywhere they’d go
The more they began to see love in their life and in the world around them
the more they began to understand how love envelopes and surrounds them.
Thanks to their father’s teachings…and those seeds of love he’d sown..
they learned how love makes every little thing in life…glow…with a beauty all its own
Which is why their own children…from before they all could speak…
saw their parent’s way of looking at the world as different…some would say…unique.
When every morning they open their front door…
look out over the land and to the sky above…
then then turn around and say…
“Today…children…it looks a lot like love.”
Granny said that all things have a seed
and that every seed produces its own
thing to be reaped: good or bad:-
At the time, it was hers and the bible study
lesson to be taught and remembered; however,
at that time I didn’t get the full allegorical meaning
of what they were saying: good or bad:-
Now, at this time of grey hair and aged awareness,
I finally realize and know that we all scatter and sow
seeds—either to the flesh or to the spirit—and what
is reaped, is according to that which we freely sowed.
Now, as I look out over our urban fields, I
realize that many moons ago, syndrome-like
sowers of the flesh came like thieves in the night
and scattered their seeds of corruption everywhere.
Some fell onto the paved streets and were wheeled;
Some fell onto the sidewalks and were foot-crushed;
Some fell into the gutters and were washed away;
Some fell, however, into cracks and needled bushes:-
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black-on-Black crime
misery;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black Families falling
apart;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black apathy and its
depression;
From these seeds we’ve destroyed each other physically
and mentally;
From these seeds we’ve done the oppressors’ harvesting of
our demise.
Now is the time to re-plow our domestic fields with the
plow of the spirit;
Now is the time to rid our domestic fields of wind-blown
evil seeds;
Now is the time to take back the stolen they took from
our plowed rows;
Now is the time to rage defense against all forces that seek
to destroy us!
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest season is
dawning;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest coming is
plentiful;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; time to take back the stolen
gift of freedom;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; freedom’s vision awaits its
due reality.
Come! Let us get ready Black people; reapers must be as equal as
is the harvest!