Long Lowering Poems
Long Lowering Poems. Below are the most popular long Lowering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lowering poems by poem length and keyword.
Meeting you here at last grasping
every thought every meaningful
gesture I'd wrap myself up in the
essence of your bronzed glow
slowing lowering my minds eye
to the depth of your soul capturing
this bountiful energy that seemed
to restore over and over again
mastered to the faint beating of
my heart mimicking ancient drums
of an untimely epoch insecurities
hidden beneath ageless notions
why I'd opened the doors to a nurtured
love paradox remembered without
effort concealed with truth a natural
fruited appetite for passions found
unmeasured an yet we'd balanced
yesterday and tomorrow today
Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen Holy Woman of God
God bless America
You were always there
Through thick and thin and you knew
But, I stumbled upon guilt…I was poorly built
Thinkin' about you...
I fell in love way too soon
Crushed by misfortune
Satisfaction please?
Unconditional friendship -
Returning the favor happily...
I want to be a cheerful giver instead of a greedy getter!
But, tainted love singed me to the extreme…
Lowering my self-esteem and I just wanna scream
I am so lost!
As low as a puppy left in the streets, whimpering –
What a heartrending scene to imagine…I feel like I’m deteriorating…
Weakening by the hour…the minute…the second
Give me a second chance…please, I beg of you!
I say what’s up to you? And what do you do?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Say naught…
I’m entangled in this knot
I’ve downright fraught…
You left me to rot
Lay your burdens on me why don’t you!?
You’ll never get my clue . . .
No reply . . .
I am ignored, but I’ve accepted it as normal
Reality can get so cruel – but, I must stand tall
Stand tall, David, you must stand tall and give it your all
Give it your all and try not to fall
Call on Him if you feel like your heart’s in appall
He won’t reject your prayer at all . . .
Eerie silence
Cemetery sound
Rolling mist
Over sacred ground
Moonlit night
Shadowing tree's
Temperature lowering
Chill like breeze
On the top of a mound
Through the mist they came
A trio in white
Of bloodless veins
Lifeless eyes
Staring ahead
This trio of white
The walking dead
Summoned by
Their darkened black
Too far they came
They can't go back
In deathly pleasure
Before the dawn
With their darkened master
The dead reborn
The night fades
Into morning new
The dark now bright
The living in view
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/myth-fantasy.php
She removed the drops of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her garden glove, leaving nature’s makeup in its place, a small streak of brown soil. As I stared at her, she put her hand above her eyes in a salute to block the sun. With a quizzical look she said, “What?” I laughed out loud. “Nothing” I said, lowering my head and shaking it side to side. She extended her arm pointing to the bottom of the yard and proceeded to tell me her plans. I was too busy looking at her to hear the words. My eyes moved from her face tracing along her extended arm. In the sunlight, golden downy hairs glistened on her forearm. Small blue rivulets of vein flowed across the back of her hand, curving around tiny islands of age spots. At night she always used the latest cream, rubbing eagerly in hopes of erasing them. She never could read a map or she would have known, Landmarks define a territory. It is our familiarity with landmarks that make each place a home. At the tip of her outstretched finger I stopped, reluctant to continue, as my eyes would have to leave her. At her insistence, I forced myself. “You aren’t even looking.” she said impatiently. I responded with a half-truth, “I am looking.”
She taught me things I never knew about her garden. I never noticed her begonias remained in bloom into October. Her marigolds, in yellow spotted pots, were planted just for fun. Luxurious lupines leaned into squat hostas that hoarded space, bleeding hearts were all over the place. Beautiful tender crocuses were gone too soon. Pelted by early hail, stoned to death for their loveliness by angry, jealous gods. Vibrant coleus leaves, daisies, lilacs, and hollyhocks. Roses, pansies and morning glories, impatiens, all with different stories. Petunias, violets, and daffodils sharing space in flats or on hills. She introduced them to me one by one. I made a friend of each and when her the tour was done, I left her resting in the sun.
Like her flowers, she was looking toward Heaven, unaware that being with her I always felt as though I was already there.
No gondolas are gliding under bridges,
it's a lagoon without classic songs;
pigeons are huddled and do not coo,
they're frightened by the murky blue!
Carlo sings some lovely Neapolitan songs,
tourists sing along with him and smile;
they all dream of sunny Southern skies,
of another distant city they admire and love!
Venice sinks in direful sadness lowering a spirit
that seeks adventure without a definite limit;
the tower bells have stopped ringing in dim light...
ghostly streets of midday miss the treading feet!
Gloomy lagoon on a foggy day, transform emotions;
don't surrender to dismal silence numbing the senses,
it's not bleak winter yet to stop all sounds and voices...
give us more delights as the sunset enthralls dreamers!
Only last night they came again—
those pale, insistent travelers of sleep,
moving through the corridors of my mind
as softly as breath on glass.
I had never walked in Italy before,
neither by sun nor by moon,
yet there it rose before me—
blue skies opened like silk above stone,
and the hills lay bare of trees,
gold and waiting like an ancient promise.
She was there among them,
laughing as if time had no meaning,
her hands shaping the air itself,
lifting and lowering the moment
until my heart spilled out its wonder, upward
and I vanished into light.
They raced one another across the fields,
ghosts and girls and flickers of desire,
while I stood rooted in the dream,
aching with the sweetness of it,
unable to follow the succubus
unable to wake from such a wicked dream.
And when morning finally found me spent,
their footsteps still rang in my head —
proof that even where we have never lived before ,
can still haunt us,
and even what we have never touched,
still intensely touches us
It still can haunt me like that memory and.
He’s the one guy who stands, by his own word,
He stands by things that are right,
He stands for the hope he holds close to his heart,
Regardless if he’s disliked,
Standing proudly alone, away from the crowd,
Conducting the thoughts in his mind,
Conducting the symphony of valued ideals,
Leaving the masses behind,
Where his mind is his own, owning each thought,
Raising the baton to air,
And lowering his sights of his moral compass,
Down to a militant stare,
He’s the guy who knows right in a crowd of a lie,
Who’s proud in a world of unjust,
He’s the much stronger man, not bound by a like,
The man made of leather bound rust.
When innocence no longer knows fear
the rivers of earth will unleash a baptism,
as anger fades with their ancestors genes
souls of the Guf will forevermore fly free
Evils are blinding the light of humanity
spotting the gaze of the troubled
stealing the hearts of the lost,
a graver threat now revolutionizes war
We've only one chance to save our world
do not waste it with greed and envys lies,
now with connections made planet wide
the danger has never been more imminent
Turn every first contact into one of love
you will never find a stronger bind,
touch the water flowing on wails of grief
know their pain, believe it until death
Let justice rise her heavenly sword
lowering it onto the nape of the wicked,
and eternally let truth be your shield
no greater protection exists on earth
Find peace in a seeded blade of grass
know a communion of humanity in a sunrise, as the federation of angels arrives, know,
they come in peace but prepared for war.
Balanced on a blackening precipice
in these moments a choice is made,
that commitment will lead the world
into a platinum age of peaceful bliss
Gossip is junkfood-
Cheap talk dressed up like a
Meal,
Served by people who stay
And seasoning them
Hungry
For somebody else's
Downfall.
It hits quicks
Salty,
Messy,
Leaves the tongue filled
In things you can't swallow
Back
People snack on rumors
Like chips in a defective
Bowl,
Crunching half-truths
And seasoning them-
With their own self-doubt.
They pass around
Somebody's pain
Like hors d'oeuvres
At a party they weren't invited to.
But I spit fire now-
Clean fire,
Classy fire,
The kind that burns off
Nonsense
Without lowering itself
To their level.
I don't eat lies
I don't serve them.
I don't sit at tables
Where truth is elective.
Gossip is junkfood-
All flavor, no value,
All noise, no weight
Truth though...
Truth is a plated dish,
Made slow,
Made with hands
That know precisely
Who they 're feeding.
predicting the unpredictable, if it meant to be it will
be, there are shadows, that keep spying on my
behind, I look but sound and dusts are at display,
wonder who left what where, check my back, no
threats lingers but this discomforts my focus, keep
gazing but it seem hopeless.
This discomfort diss my curiosity, stream of questions, who? what? and
why? occupies much of my sane space, now, I
mean gates and doors of my yesterday are all
sealed.
In my mind no question marks stored but
this back starring reduces my pace forward, my
pulse lowering, this requires my undivided attention, heart beat volume so high, let loose my
uptightness, Should I tight laces, but this is not
marathon, just a challenge, launched from my
fearful foes.
Who to ponder? I mean, no one pose
no threat. Dining with lions, is in my blood. Who to
fear? Smiles that never lasted throughout my back turning? Nor friends who called me besties by day
but by night a target? My paranoia gears are
surpassing my normalcy dosage, nearing my
irreparable contingency...
Realise foes, hides in shadows, my shadow, those I
know by name and those I share my laughters with. where to rid this shadow, when everywhere
everyone chasing something, I mean, required
when its beneficial.
Fellow beings in my relation
circles better than being in lions dens, for the attack
knowingly launched but these fellows, stabbing
with a numb face, so bad I don't wanna die in silent, wanna take my slayer's names with me to my
creator.
#Poetic_Ink