Long Lullabies Poems
Long Lullabies Poems. Below are the most popular long Lullabies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lullabies poems by poem length and keyword.
Will you come?
Will you come?
To quest,
Knock my door
Come and play the flute
Unforgettable memories,
And forgiven melancholic throb
Now shrouded in mist.
Those nights, all perfumed in lavender
Gone mornings, drizzled quilt the rooftop
The room was curtain in pearls and whites
Grey ashes stained the fireplace
Everything taled their fierce affair!
Miles away from your abode, I lie...
Beneath the moon
Woods were deep in dark
Droughted souls witnessed
My wounds,
The death and my cadaver.
All your silken touches,
Warmth and cuddles of your body,
I fallen asleep when you sang lullabies.
Come, slaked the drought days
Bring elixir to the life to live again
Come, unearth my grave
Feel my heart aches, my rotten veins here
Buried lone and longing for you...
Will you come?
Come,
Unearth my grave...
This youth, with its curiosity to follow dreams,
always finds us among the tallest sunflowers
that hide us from the bewildered faces
of the common people who surely envy us
for being here between sunset and darkness,
carefully drawing images of a future that could be:
choosing those colors that are a bit daffy;
and why is isolation a favorite place for two little darlings?
And that answer lies in Nature itself surrounding us
with an ideal beauty predestined for faithful lovers-to-be:
willow trees drooping to reach down to us,
brushing our sun-dried hair with their sweetest lullabies of spring;
you'll be surprised how the rascal wind teaches them to sing;
and we listen to that medley as if it were sung by humans,
and the mixed sounds enthrall us with their mellowness...
and how did the silent robins,gathered by the shady spruces,
ever agree to hear that lovely and tender melody?
Live, young hearts, live with a joyous spirit that sets no limits,
be like us among the tallest sunflowers:
exchanging innocent caresses and timid kisses,
and even if your gladness turns into delight ...
never be afraid of the approaching night:
you will have the steady company of stars;
lay down, side by side, and sweetly imagine your paradise!
Vanished are the nightly shadows,
puzzled butterflies land on your shiny noses...
they tickle them until your senses are awakened,
you rub your eyelids to be dazzled by an intense glow;
is morning the emptiest promise without any dream realized?
Run, vibrant hearts, run towards the gleaming horizon miles away;
the zealous eagles will keep pace with your footsteps,
and before you reach the golden ocean with soft waves:
you'll be soaring, like them, over the crimson clouds,
and forever remember that the earth was a beautiful place for a day!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
In shadows of darkness
Your silhouette I can’t erase
In my dreams and in the mirror, it seems I see your face
On the ground and in the sky
The clouds embrace your shape, so do I
But you’re not on my mind
So why does your face leave a trace?
In the coldness of my breath in the gaps of every space
This could be a sign
I hear you in lullabies
I would rather sleep standing up
Then in your contour on the bed
Tears drop my eyes even when you’re the furthest from my head
Maybe, I traded my heart for foolish love, I must let it go
Praying that your face can finally fade
Alas, leaving behind lonely whispers in the wind to serenade
Succulent showers of golden morning dew
bathed my soft coos in pearly rose hue
the day I unveiled from my pretty petals
butterflies singing with naughty nettles.
A blooming bud smiling in my umpteenth hours
daddy's glorious girl in serenade of flowers
warm whispers of lavender lullabies with stars
quintessential quilt of fireflies from jars.
Born to bring bliss in a smoldering world
ferocious fire of fallacies at us hurled
Oh daddy! Courageously cocooned me to death
melting mellows for a baby till last breath.
Tenebrous thorns surrounded my scarred shadows
perhaps protected my petals in mourning meadows
living legend of beauty behind a tenacious thorn
I awaited aurora of auspicious showers to be reborn.
Whimpering willow wails on a whispering dark night
onlooking opalescent sprinkles from my petals bright
ecstatic effervescence my scarred thorns now release
sumptuous solace of daddy's promise in soothing breeze.
July 8, 2020
The Flower, The Thorn Or Both Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
~Premiere Contest Winner: 2nd Place
Words on a page, sounds, Mother's calling
soft tones rose from leather tomes sweetly,
through rouged lips they tumble with love.
Lullabies call through the coldest of nights
as frost haloes about the curls, open-hearted,
eager, a child of contested love’s joining.
What would this chimera become now joined.
Oh what would be the result of this clarion call?
Angels wonder at the blend of unformed heart,
as words of Our Fathers resound so sweet
for the thrice kissed lips of child and overbearing night.
May all who come from the light delight in love.
May the child addressed bring comfort, bring love,
grow in service to the higher good and join
the wholesome hearts who warm the darkest night,
for bringing comfort, kindness, and caring is a calling,
which teaches every opened soul of sweetness
and heals the aching angry sores of forlorn hearts.
With words of joy, and a voice full of heart
let her hands touch, and sooth, each pain lovingly,
with the like-minded teachers and nurses sweetening
the balm smoothed upon the brow of man, enjoined
to heed the call, the ancient ever-present call
of majesty in morning and peaceful rest at night.
Each life presents its morning and ends in eternal night.
Each soul stores fonts of happiness and heartache.
Conception buds and blooms, sending out a clarion call
enjoining all who have the healing gift to garner love.
Gentle ones, who plant the seeds, tend the hearts join…
be the humble gardeners of the meek and sweet.
What task could be richer or path sweeter
than that of those who doctor, and nurse, and warm night?
Tender hearts and helping hands come together, join…
in the higher consciousness of he’s and she’s heartfelt.
Raise the banner; fly the unifying flag of healing love,
make this your onward path the Way, the Red Road your calling.
For what is sweeter day or night for each are joined,
heartily we love and live to heed these fine callings.
i believe we all
have a poem in our hearts
some need no metaphors
for a poet is a bridge
between words and emotions
connecting hearts and souls
through all four seasons
my heart is not a guesthouse
it's an asylum for the broken
a treasure of memories
of those forgotten
so all the names
written within it
i place into a box
to shelter from storms
as long as there is oxygen
i'll keep them warm
but sometimes I am thunder
because they are like lightening
sometimes it's really frightening
so i curse my heart
for feeling too much
sometimes it curses me
for not forgiving enough
maybe that's why
when they move forward,
i take a step backwards
losing the gravity of my voice
because sometimes i feel frozen
isolated on an unknown island
profoundly pondering
about the equity of love
it's not always fair - if ever
all i ask from these strangers
is to leave their ego at the door
for dishonesty and hypocrisy
disturbs one's tranquillity
from silence of the womb
to darkness of the tomb
some pens remain dormant
some suffer from insomnia
life is not butterflies and lullabies
so i keep writing in the hope
one day someone will understand
continuing to release emotive ink
with a message in each poem
hidden behind metaphors
Dear Life,
that betrayed the heart-shaped shells,
breathing colors of coral caves in slow cadence,
I’ve surfed through whirling waves of woeful rhymes,
to navigate tides of tormented tercets,
to cleanse my stained soul with briny bliss,
to illuminate the bruised blues with vibrant verses…
Yet, time revealed the fragrance of frosted farewells,
how moving minutes mourn~
the maleficent melodies of inhumane humankind,
while nurtured nature was played in sheer ignorance…
And as the last drop of ink spills~
upon the crystalline canvas of troubled turquoise,
I whisper to the moon-pearled skyline in soft rose dialects,
remember these words as my penultimate prose.
I was once inspired by the silver ring of lotus lunar;
now I struggle to carve my thoughts into coherent metaphors,
as halcyon hues of my muse refuse to collaborate and curate,
and surging currents of existence ripple with runes of rhinestone ruins,
reflecting the aching darkness of midnight musings,
for I’ve long been clothed in shades of dusk and dawn,
carrying pain in scented silence and solitude.
Tonight, I’ll forgive the sun that forgot my name,
rest my bleeding pen within the unconditional love of my beloved kin,
as I fashion a bronze casket of black daisies and withered promises,
to forever dream in lucid lilacs and lyrical lullabies.
Remember, I’ve waltzed through the weary wilderness,
danced beneath dwelling dreariness,
now preparing to set sail upon seraphic realms of eternal serenity,
where everlasting evergreens of Eden~
shall calm the chaos within my eclipsed psyche.
There the wind shall steer my silhouette to where she belongs,
a meadow of jasmines and dahlias,
emanating thirty-nine twists and turns of tuneless memories...
Over the confines of the cliffs
in a cloud of crystalline haze
in the midst of a tsunami of whistling
skyline shadows in golden amber
hues ooze into the ocean
triumph against craving
waves of fairy spirits
Pearl stone sparkles in sundrops
flying is my passion
I'm diving again
in a wide chasm
sapphire knitting
chromium marble light
optimums prime
upheaval toward verisimilitude
you and my floating rhyme
with an increasing susurrus
a gentle melody is heard
tonal fuzziness
reverberations of rainbow hues
a scarlet choir of classic lullabies
Written: April 24, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1211 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
An ancient land covered in desert sands
where the wind weeps lullabies of lost souls
The pale moon shivers in the cold night
as the wind reveals a head carved in stone
Sharaou, Sharaou
A land when time was new
Sharaou, Sharaou
In the head of stone I see my eyes of blue
Unforgiving sun breaks anyone
who dares to stray in the sun
A lost land of blowing dunes
that soon bury any ruins
A howl cries as the eagle flies
and I shift the sand with eager hands
For it can not be the stone head in front of me
no such land exist not even in myth
With fingers I dare touch the face that stares
into my very soul as if of me it knows
Within a flash of light I faint into the desert night
and dream of Sharaou
Temples of solid gold that out shine the sun
streets where treasures flow, markets abound
Palace of marble white that glows in moonlight
and pleasures of every sort were found
Canals big and wide brought water and life
fields of grains and wine flowing in delight
Fatted calves and sweet honey and milk
lavish dress bejeweled and silk
The king was a god and a god was king
a thousand years was a yawn in it's reign
A boy crown prince and mother's lust for power
would destroy Sharaou a lost desert flower
In the vast wasteland I felt my mother's hand
and the blade of her knife piercing my young life
The boy king is dead bleeding upon his bed
and his mother shall be the first Sharaou god queen
But the gods moan the boy dethrone
a black moon and silver flash cut my giant statue in half
The earth shakes from a mighty quake
as the canals break drowning the land
Famine and hell bemoan all who dwell
in the once glorious reign of Sharaou
Rebellious priest slay the god queen as she screams
I am your god do only as I command
Time covers all as the sands fall
from whipping winds it ends
I awake in sweat gone is the face I met
was it me the last boy king of Sharaou
For me the whole universe is a stage
The past, the present, the future, every people, every age
I ride on the wings of my imaginations and they take me to my next place
I can write on history, mysteries and on every thing my pen can engage
I am a poet, a poet
My pen and I are in perfect harmony
I don't write for fame, neither for money
My words are the explanation of my emotions
Endless like a sky and deep like an ocean
They tell my hatred, fears and devotions
I am a poet, a poet
In people eyes I can see the pain
I have the gift through which emotions can be explained
I sit alone in the silence of night, people think that I am insane
But by sitting alone, nature is what I see and peace is what I obtain
I am a poet, a poet
One moment I am kissing a girl, next I am in another century
One moment I am on Earth, next I am swimming in the lakes of mercury
One moment I am a child, next I am celebrating my wedding anniversary
One moment I am a thief, next I am helping to stop burglary
I am a poet, a poet
Last year I saw a white glistening olive tree
Neither of west nor of East
Which would glow even if washed my sea
It was full of fruit for animals and beast
There I had my dinner with angels and priests
Then I sat on the wings of my imaginations where I met all the deceased
I am a poet, a poet
Being a poet I have experienced a world with compassionate cries
A world where there was no act of kindness, empath dies
Where the wolves lives in sheeps clothing and devil lives in disguise
There was not even a single wise guy, a world full of lies
A dark place where the sun neither sets nor rise
I am a poet, a poet
I have also experienced a world where angels sing you lullabies
A place where nobody ever cries, and only love and love lies
Justice prevails all over it, even lion and deer lives in peace
Here the birds wake you up with their sweet melodies
I am a poet, a poet
23 September 2018