Long Lune Poems
Long Lune Poems. Below are the most popular long Lune by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lune poems by poem length and keyword.
LIFE IS POETRY...POETRY IS…
Poetry wears the words of smiles and tears,
And speaks of stumbling through graveyards
And up the aisles to ancient altars;
Falling off of sidewalks and through the cracks of life
Then rising up to stargaze from thin lines;
Tripping over can’t and could have,
Butting heads with treasured idols;
Tracking sticky mud across the new waxed
Marble floor of the soul –
Scratching graffiti on the walls of the heart
Or gently laying kisses on fresh jagged wounds –
Carrying baggage filled with
Stones of calendar pages;
Chanting loudly of sunrise and sunset,
Blending crystal snow with newborn leaves;
Escaping clutches of midnight marauders
Embracing the fairness of rose and mauve;
Ignorance ignored screaming,
Scrapping tender knees and elbows on pebbled concrete,
Painting chaos – weaving breaths – unclogging drains –
Knitting together quietness in blooms of Claire de lune.
Poetry wears the words of frowns and grins
And tells of fat ducklings waddling through spring;
Wrapping scars in isolation,
Discarding blindness
In ancient hearts and newborn souls
And all the in between;
Cleaning closets stuffed to overflowing
With emptiness;
Running with ambivalence,
Looking into the eyes of the unresolved,
Fighting wrinkles or teetering on high heels –
Tuxedos rushing by the tattered,
Ragged holding hands with
Fire dancers balancing upon tight ropes –
Drinking fully from a trough
Of clearest spirits, giving up thirst,
Then wrestling with the fevers
Of inspiration through witness eyes,
Shouting across the centuries in baritone and soprano,
Reaching out and gathering in – juggling balls and overflowing plates.
The very marrow and the core.
The words of a poet yesterday – “Pretty, hell, poetry is life.”
Robert Penn Warren – June 1986
The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.
The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
flowing rags of worthless chattel
that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.
Yet, still my need must pursue that dream
to create another verse so sublime as to define
me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.
"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."
Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...
"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"
...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.
"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.
As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.
Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.
I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."
Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.
08/15/2018
Form:
One Word…
>>>IS>>>
Poetry…is…
Wears the words of smiles and tears,
And speaks of stumbling through graveyards
And up the aisles to ancient altars;
Falling off of sidewalks and through the cracks of life
Then rising up to stargaze from thin lines;
Tripping over can’t and could have,
Butting heads with treasured idols;
Tracking sticky mud across the new waxed
Marble floor of the soul –
Scratching graffiti on the walls of the heart
Or gently laying kisses on fresh jagged wounds –
Carrying baggage filled with
Stones of calendar pages;
Chanting loudly of sunrise and sunset,
Blending crystal snow with newborn leaves;
Escaping clutches of midnight marauders
Embracing the fairness of rose and mauve;
Ignorance ignored screaming,
Scrapping tender knees and elbows on pebbled concrete,
Painting chaos – weaving breaths – unclogging drains –
Knitting together quietness in blooms of Claire de lune.
Poetry…Is…
Wears the words of frowns and grins
And tells of fat ducklings waddling through spring;
Wrapping scars in isolation,
Discarding blindness
In ancient hearts and newborn souls
And all the in between;
Cleaning closets stuffed to overflowing
With emptiness;
Running with ambivalence,
Looking into the eyes of the unresolved,
Fighting wrinkles or teetering on high heels –
Tuxedos rushing by the tattered,
Ragged holding hands with
Fire dancers balancing upon tight ropes –
Drinking fully from a trough
Of clearest spirits, giving up thirst,
Then wrestling with the fevers
Of inspiration through witness eyes,
Shouting across the centuries in baritone and soprano,
Reaching out and gathering in – juggling balls and overflowing plates.
The very marrow and the core,
The words of a poet yesterday – “Pretty, hell, poetry is…life.” Robert Penn Warren – June 1986
Moonlight Sonata
A mockingbird sings his nocturne,
Silhouetted against a sky of velvet blue,
Welcoming on the garden path
The Lady Claire de Lune
Slipping from behind tall cypress trees,
Her creamy arms draped in shimmering shadows,
Stretching slowly across the garden
To gently bathe the trumpet vines, announcing her return,
In a gleaming signature of glowing white
While moonlights drip from feathery birch leaves
Falling into ivory puddles
Of clearest light,
Splashing across the darkened lawn,
Then sit atop the ivy, tiptoeing up the fence -
Eyes filled with reveries of shooting stars
And other summer skies,
When Midnight enters this quiet refuge,
Returning from the daylight
Dressed in veils of silver blue,
To wait upon this iridescent lady fair,
Who lightly steps across sweet jasmine
Dozing in the flowerbeds,
Walking slowly in silent solitude together
Across the velvet sky -
To wax and wane as lovers living in a serenade
While polar stars spin and sway
To the rhythm of their evensong
Till Midnight and the Lady slip away
Before the world opens drowsy eyes
To catch them in the garden
On another summer night.
The moon's bow beckons to me,
wind's frosty fingers
entwining mine,
and I lay myself on the balcony's ledge
immersing, losing myself
under that inky blanket sea
the clouds rolling past, so fast,
skimming like waves veiling moonlight,
then letting it peek through
like a shy bride
beautiful, so beautiful
a gentle glow of soul
a silent lullaby that rocks me
If only for a moment
I keep my cradle of tears at bay,
as I let the moon do the weeping for me.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Debussy's Clair de Lune
now mingles in my mind like soft smoke
and tears come streaming...
Tired, so tired am I.
01162014114a137
Science says that the moon has no gender,
and some think that the moon is both- yin and yang;
female and male energy glowing in splendour.
I think moon is like a female boomerang,
a sky goddess that nightly comes to just hang;
sometimes, la lune brings her sparkling star gang !
La lune always gazes down on earth benignly;
representing the rhythm and flow of time,
she embodies cycle and phases divinely.
By climbing in the sky each night beautifully sublime,
and giving me enlightenment at bedtime ...
and I also gaze at her in the dark of nighttime !
________________
August 3, 2021
Poetry/Rhyme/La Luna of the Night
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1378-529-03
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, She The Moon Male or Female or Both
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 08/10/2021
Third Place
The sun falls behind the shadowed mountain turning the night blind
leaving behind a thieving ghostly lune moon and wandering mind.
A courtyard with tables all around lovers listen
to music and drinking wine as the breaking sea waves glisten.
Sounds of scary growls are heard. From out of the darkness large creatures
covered in glowing long green hair and fiery eyes, evil creeper features
tramp towards the people biting them with their gleaming white fangs
sending some to the grim reaper. Sounds of loud exploding bangs
wakes me up trembling. Outside my window the garbage truck is crawling
along the street stopping as a man jumps off not falling,
lifting emptying trash cans and replacing them back onto the curb.
It tries to do its best not to disturb, but the sounds fail to perturb.
9/28/2018
~God Almighty~
(The Lune)
God almighty the Lord
Created all
He made you and me
God’s countless blessings
Measureless
His love infinite
God just sees it all
He’s patient
And so full of grace
He’s merciful to all
Still when men
Rejects God often
But still God loves men
No matt'r what
And rescue wants all.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2007
June.16.2016
~Author's Notes:
"The Lune" is also known as the American Haiku.It is a poetry style or form that was created by poet Robert Kelly.There is also a variant "Lune" that was created by poet Jack Collom.
~God Almighty~
(Lune )
God Almighty the Lord
Created all
He made you and me
Gods blessings countless
Measureless
His loves infinite
God surely sees all
He’s patient
And so full of grace
He's merciful to all
Ev'n when man
Rejects God often
Still the Lord loves man
No matt'r what
And saves wants all.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2007
July.13.2017
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)
-“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16 (NIV)
- Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer
Romans 12: 12 ( NIV )
-The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”
Exodus 14: 13 ( NIV )
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
~Author's Notes:
"The Lune" is also known as the American Haiku. It was first created by the poet Robert Kelly, and was a result of Kelly’s frustration with the English Haiku.
autumn promises embrace the silence, melting away bitterness, awakening the brilliance of peace in the shadows of His grace - Quote by Poet
Syllable based – 5-3-5
harvest heals the heart
leaves dancing
hues of faith and hope
Word based 3-5-3
orange and gold
breath love upon the soul
prayers and psalms
Lune (Mixed Pair) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
October 17, 2021
Two mixed originals of a new form of haiku known as 'Lune'. There are two different versions of this non-rhyming form, each follows a strict structured format that is not interchangeable.
First, there is the syllable-based, 5-3-5 version, second, is the word-based, 3-5-3 version. Create Lunes of each version, one-time-only, bearing a shared theme of your choice.