Long Looking at Poems
Long Looking at Poems. Below are the most popular long Looking at by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Looking at poems by poem length and keyword.
The swathing grandeur of my mesmerizing garden
the northern wind sweeps away in the arctic gale,
the pallid patina of the distressed florid petals
freezes beneath the withering frost of discontent.
Seraphic spring saunters with ripples of rapture in the air
from the garden of Eden up above the veil of blue,
the spectrum of hues cascades in splendored shower,
as dormant beauty blooms again in my listless garden.
From the yonder woods flows with fragrant fervor
the musical resonance of the serenading breeze,
its captivating cadence set in harmonic congruence
with the enticing tune of robin’s song in dulcet dawn.
On cobbled floral path meandering in the sunray maze,
garlanding the satin shadow of the verdant banyan tree,
the wafting leaves revive to rustle the romantic whisper,
the murmur riding the melody waves of my longing.
The beguiled buds unfurl their poignant petals,
daisies and marigolds blossom with lustrous faces,
looking at the solitary sapling spreading tender bough,
holding between the caring leaves a red rose, I adore.
In the surge of chromatic glimmer of the sunburst morn,
floating on the fervent flood of the silken scarlet hue,
your aura drifts on the yearning wings of a butterfly,
embraces the rose of rhapsody in the garden of my love.
You saw the news today but you pretend you were never on that channel
You hear others talk about the deaths but the signs of it being gossip is everywhere
Your mind switches from what is happening
Instead of looking at the weapon pointed at a child's head you look at the issues of the politics instead
You could be out there throwing your heart out with words but you stay inside watching the court decide on whether tiktoc is what makes the world burn
Mabey we are the problem
We also have to blame the most wanted instead of blaming the least expected
Instead of looking the shootings in the eye you blame the teachers for not being quick enough
Or the students for being too loud
Do what you need to be happy is what you think instead of helping the wounded that is all around
Mabey if you spoke your mind instead of paying a dollar or two for a cause at the store thinking that it will be enough for the pained
You don't have to be a hero but atleast you can be an adult
It's such a lovely sunny day
surrounded by bright blue sky
you feel the rays of the warmth
coming down from way up high
There you are on the grass
looking at all around you
so many enjoying this scene
on the holiday they feel due
So many of every possible age
from everywhere near and far
just enjoying the time so dear
makes them really feel a star
Children loving it on the sand
lovers walk the prom hand in hand
oaps sitting at peace on deckchair
everyone else living without a care
These times last only for a time
it'll come when need to go home
so enjoy the moment now till then
making memories for when alone
(On holiday last week in Wales lying on the grass, thinking thoughts as everyone walked by)
A Cave Man Day
One day long ago a cave man slept uncomfortably
The brutal sun, good for nothing, woke him up abruptly
Ants crawled all over his body and began to bite
He ate every one of them one by one
Using his fingers and his thumbs as utensils
There was no name for breakfast at the time
Or the creatures who ate his parents
Cave man was all alone and had a simple job
To find more food and stay alive
Fire had just been invented and utilized
This miracle he took with him everywhere
The other 2 gods were sun and water
Fire would be his favorite deity
The man was good at picking berries, consuming plants
All of this at great peril and certainly by chance
They could be poisonous or make him sick
All cave men had to do this to survive and take the risk
He used rocks and sharp ended sticks to take down pray
Skills taught to him by his dad before he died
Cave man was short, stout, mean, with green and jagged teeth
And made his way through Stone Age foliage
He had a bushy beard and scratched it
Wondered what he was looking at… What was that?!
When he met a woman with long legs and tangled hair
She had nice features for a cave girl from that age
He took her by the hair and clubbed her on the head
Dated, copulated and married on the spot
What a lovely wedding day
They moved into a cave
I look up to the sky
Remembering past dreams
Wondering where the dreamer went
Looking back to the past.
Having lived and loved
Sacrificed and gave everything to those who won my heart
Now I look at this moment wondering what the hell I did.
Sold my dreams for a broken kiss and
a hundred thousand times
Looking to the future,
Wondering where to start,
Looking at the past dreams,
Looking to the sky
Missing old loves,
missing old things.
Wondering what can I do to find who I am?
I look at the world now with jaded eyes.
Wishing for a good thing to last,
Wondering if it ever could.
Wondering how the world is so cruel
To break things down, build them up, destroying love and hate like a toy in a dream.
BANANAS
The banana is a delicious fruit.
It’s elongated…curved…and kind of cute
It’s true all bananas are called bananas
they all share the banana name
but when we look more closely…we notice
no two bananas are the same.
They can be long or short or fat or thin
some can be yellow…some are green
yet when someones says banana…
we know exactly what they mean.
Still, despite the differences in bananas
(if you need a reminder…see above)
the banana in all it’s diversity
is a fruit most of us love
We don’t care where they have come from…
or how they are transported
If they’re grown inside this country…
or if they are imported.
In truth whether we’re looking at them closely
or seeing them from afar
we tend not to take any notice of how different all bananas are….
or even if we do notice…we never make a fuss
because the differences between bananas
is meaningless to us.
Wouldn’t it be amazing in this country
from Main to California…from Texas to Montana
If we humans thought of other humans…
like we think of our bananas?
It all began in Berkeley, California
In the spring time of 1974
One fateful afternoon
I was dozing in my high school
Physics class.
I looked up and saw
A tall, beautiful Asian woman
standing looking at me.
I screamed out,
Who are you?
She disappeared
like she was beamed away from my dream.
I knew that someday I would meet the girl
In the dream
Little did I know
I would have to wait until 1982
Starting that month
I began having the same dream
Month and month and month.
Always the same.
She was saying something
To me in a strange language.
Then one day I had the dream
and knew that she was in Korea.
So I chose to go Korea
In the Peace Corps,
Somehow knowing
That I would meet her there.
That morning early in the morning
I had the last of these dreams.
This time I understood her.
She said, “Don't worry.
We’ll meet soon.”
That evening
As I was getting off the bus
To go to my class
I saw getting off the bus
The girl in my dream.
It was she!
Working in a bookstore my eyes gaze out on a million words that captivate and endear…but nothing quite compares with one word I often hear.
Yes I hear the word Mom many times from the counter on which I’m leaning…and every time I hear it…it seem to have a different meaning…
I hear the word Mom over and over each and every day and I find myself marveling how it can be said in so many different ways.
“Mommy, they have a Christmas tree! There’s an elf on the shelf, Mommy…look!”
“Mommy can you buy me this pack of crayons…Mommy I just have to have this book!”
“No you can’t buy that book it has too many words you will not understand. Come on… we’re going to the Children’s section…hold on to mommy’s hand.”
A phone rings: “Hi Mom. Yes I’m in the bookstore. I’ll come see you when I’m through. Yes Mom, okay Mom, Yes Mom, Yes Mom, yes Mom…Yes Mom…I love you too.”
“Mom you look a little tired”. Her daughter pats her on the back and smiles.
“I’m going to find us both a book. Why don’t you sit here for a while.”
“MOM HE ASKED YOU IF YOU WANT A RECEIPT! The daughter yells but it’s a yell I find endearing as she looks at me she smiles and says. “My mom’s a little hard of hearing.”
A mom comes in with her little daughter in tow…her daughter’s crying, “She’s lost her favorite Teddy Bear.
“She’s not sure when she lost it.” Her Mom said, “we’ve been looking everywhere.”
“She remembers looking at a book in your bookstore, she thinks her Teddy might be behind it”
“Thank you Mommy.” The little girl says as we search the store…and find it!”
A woman picks a book off the shelf and as she does she wipes away a tear
“Mom would have loved this book she whispers to herself…I sure wish she was here.”
What a wonderful little word is MOM…
for no matter how we convey it...
It’s meaning changes completely
simply…
by the way we happen to say it.
Hope is a feeling that people spend years believing in, not because it leads them to a place full of flowers,
but because it's the only thing anyone doesn't doubt. Then there is no difference between the lust of achieving and the act of believing in it.
And when that kind of soul grips the handle of the sword—the sword that once provided power to the soul who had lost everything to stand in the world—
that sword develops a second edge because of the one holding it, and it causes damage to both the good and the bad.
Hope is like a hill. If you think—you can walk on it as long as you have strength, believing that at the end you will achieve the salvation you always wanted.
You start to believe in the shadow of hope because it seems beautiful and sweet. To ask someone for your deeds, and to think they will fulfill your wish—that is belief, not hope,
because that is what people are running behind: doing good deeds by suffering so they don’t have to suffer after death.
But at the top of the hill there is no peak, because you never wanted to find it. That hill has lost its top now—it only has an edge where a man can see a flowing river of water.
And while looking at it, a man loses something: it could be belief or salvation, but not hope—
because it was lost when you laid your foot on the hill. That is when hope becomes belief, and that day, a side of humanity was born—one no soul had ever witnessed, yet one everyone became a part of.
She is not a pretty girl in her mind,
spends most of her time looking at the ground;
but in dreams with love she is entwined,
with a dreamworld man she is quite spellbound.
She cannot wait for darkness to fall,
and she will lay in his strong arms breathless;
his whispering words and kisses- enthrall,
and her lust for him is bold and boundless.
In her attire she is changing each day,
to a style sensual and ethereal;
one day a man offers her a rose bouquet,
when they kiss she is both forceful and fragile.
Their ecstasy leaves him with sweet longing,
he wants her forever in his arms;
so happy ever after is their loving . . . .
but often, her night dream teacher still charms.
______________________
September 30, 2017
Rhyme/Rhapsody Of Love
Copyright Protected, ID 945846
Written for the contest, Love For Movie Screen
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place