Long Magical world Poems
Long Magical world Poems. Below are the most popular long Magical world by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Magical world poems by poem length and keyword.
One of the many things I love about working in a bookstore is how, every now and then, the magic of the store unwraps…Like the other day when a mother sat in our big chair reading a book…with her daughter seated on her lap.
It reminded me of when I was a little boy sitting atop my mother’s knee…and how the world became a magical place…when she would read to me.
I smiled thinking how, like me, this girl is in for a wild ride…just because of the time her mother took…to introduce her to the wonders…inside the pages of a book.
She’ll learn how a mouse can run up and down a clock…she’ll meet a storyteller named Mother Goose…she’ll learn how a cow can jump over the moon…and what to do with three mice on the loose.
She’ll learn about three pigs…their houses…about some scary brothers Grimm…she’ll learn about a boy who kept crying wolf…and all the trouble that followed him.
She’ll learn a monkey can be curious…how our need for heroes will never end…she’ll learn to say good night to the moon…and how a spider and a pig can be friends.
And the day will come when from her mother’s knee…it will be time to say goodbye…The day she’ll take what her mother has taught her…flap her own wings…and fly.
I imagine every time she opens a book…opens to its wonder, its laughter…its mystery…she’ll smile remembering where it all began…atop her mother’s knee.
So on this day and every day remember…its never too late to start reading…
for inside each book a magical world awaits…
and herein lies the beauty of reading a book…
because…it’s also never too late.
"You are stronger than you think."
Quote _ Google
As a young girl I spent a lot of time alone,
overtime I learnt to not be lonely by learning to be creative;
I was and am motivated by all I see, smell, and hear,
my mother's garden was ever a place of inspiration and enchantment.
Poetry books enchanted me for hours and hours,
those poets of old and their words became my friends and muses;
I loved to read books and they gave me great revelations,
God blessed be with divine illumination.
The library was my place of insight and incentive,
I was hungry for knowledge of all types and in all ways;
when I discovered the art gallery it was like a magical world to me,
I did and still do spend hours and hours wandering the art.
So, on my journey I gathered a state of mind,
of sharing what I have discovered with others of like mind;
I wish to be their awakening, their encouragement and motivation,
oh, to be that spark that lights a fire within another.
I am all that I am because of my childhood experiences,
those experiences could have made me a failure in this life;
but instead, God told me to be a light that glows,
shining on all who seek my help to be more than they are.
As I stand and watch the clouds roll by
Like floating Cotton Wool in a different shape
It looks just like faces floating in the Sky
Like their trying to escape
One looks just like a Teddy Bear
With arms and legs it goes sailing by
Or like a dog or cats that’s running away
As it’s floating across the sky
Clouds come in all shapes and sizes
Moving slowly or quickly in the breeze
As I stare upwards at this magical sight
I think I can hear a sparrow sneeze
They are flying through the low drifting clouds
With such elegant and ease
While the Clouds continue rolling by
In their different shapes and sizes
They change their shape continually
As if wearing different disguises
As the Sun shines through this silky mass
And there is a warm glow throughout the land
This scene has such a magical moment
Like a magical snow puff ball band
One imagines an orchestra playing in the sky
Hidden away from view
I stand in awe of this wondrous sight
Of these white puff balls in a queue
As they continue floating across the sky
In their different shapes and size
My imagination runs to a different world
That never fails to bring a surprise
This magical world that we call home
There is so much we do not command
But the sky above shows all of us
There is so much we do not understand
By my enabled senses five, attention externalised, I beheld the magical world of myriad objects, reflecting their luminous auras. As I exhaled, the world disappeared and through my open fontanel correspondent to the crown chakra, I entwined with universal consciousness, melding with God’s blissful domain of boundless love and soft white light. My subtle body felt God in-dwelling all forms, breathing His life force by His sublime pranic breath, magnetically energising each being by Holy Spirit. Then sadly, as my body aged, to my dismay, the fontanel closed, thus severing the divine connection. I now feel incomplete.
dreams hold forth promise
cajoling us to let go~
for God is within
05-June-2022
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Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
It is a mighty warrior's ship
With masts that reach to the sky.
Its vast sails unfurl
Whisking us away to far away lands.
It is a great castle
With many rooms and a moat
Filled with man-eating alligators and hungry piranha
Waiting to devour anyone who dares harm us.
We're in the depths of the jungle.
Look there! A ferocious tiger lounging in the sun.
Colorful birds and curious apes sing the song of the wild
As huge, monstrous bugs stroll casually along.
It is a ladder to heaven.
Each step leading us closer
To the clouds and the pearly gate
Where we might speak to St. Peter himself.
It is a hiding place
Where we might go
To think and read
Or just get away from the world.
These wonderful places
Are in our mind's eye.
The places we would go as children
In the magical world of trees.
Versus me
(chilling as an outsize ego freezer)
profusely perspiring
and heavily panting
experiencing one after another
stuff whet dreams are made
frolicking in autumn mist
(think Maxfield Parrish painting)
while skirt chasing
and playfully tackling,
a gamesome gamine with verve
mercilessly coquettish ingenue
"precociously seductive"
overgrown Lolita wannabe.
Solitude and introvertedness
mebbe made more manifest destiny
courtesy severe nasal notable twang
(otherwise known as split uvula)
yours truly wittingly drew taunts
and unutterable pang
to escape being bullied as scapegoat
entering magical world
of mine imagination
fostered learning about
all creatures great and small
by age appropriate books.
Logophile lusts ever stronger after
twenty six letter combinations
(analogously surrendering to mistress)
that yield an estimated 171,146 words
currently in use in the English language;
according to the Oxford English Dictionary,
an additional 47,156 obsolete words exist.
I luxuriate engrossed
with choice reading material
and out of desperation
to slake insatiable thirst
(to discern syllabification)
yours truly doth read aloud
intently hearing cadence
of vowels and consonants.
Up until I entered six grade
(at Henry Kline elementary -
a one classroom per grade - school)
classmates bullied, derided,
and feigned to hammer -
jabbing leering, nasty
pimping ragout as a rule
which boyhood self of mine
availed a perfect bullseye target
with combination of diminutiveness,
being painfully quiet,
essentially remaining mum the entire day
except when called upon to answer question
thence utterance emanating between lips
produced and emitted
a strong nasal sound to boot
grist for the mill
sans malice meted, mimicked,
and mocked mashup
of mine warped congestion.
Passwords with letters and numbers and dots,
Characters to keep in your mind,
Put together by you when creating accounts,
The combo is yours to decide,
And yours to remember like a robotic drone,
Yours to tattoo to your soul,
To use whenever you need to log on,
To give you a total control,
So you can fly and explore the cloud in the sky,
Float like a mythical ghost,
You can parade all your thoughts in this magical world,
And do it by silent remote,
This password you own is your new secret friend,
Your new invisible internet clothes,
It allows you to write, see and witness a world,
It’s your own beautiful internet prose.
Your language of love never heard before
Cuddles eager heart whispering romance
Awakening feelings residing in my dreams
Chasing in solitude your enchanting spirit,
Your shine sparkles, alien to my universe
As you arrive to greet me defying barriers
Seducing me discreetly to feeling of wonder
Making me surrender to splendor of ardor,
Your kiss on my lips blooms cosmic flowers
Capturing my soul with fragrance of desire
Arousing my senses to beg for your touch
Setting me aflame with your sensuous fire,
Embroidered by your supernatural fingers
Fabric of fervor caresses me to want more
As we seek eternity embracing each other
Enamored by reverence of ambrosial love,
Soon you declare your visit is ephemeral
Lifting me up with your mysterious signal
Spiraling me gently into sphere of your bliss
As we fly away together to a magical world.
March 29, 2018
In a parallel universe
Is there another me?
Somewhere in a parallel universe
Quite near, yet very far
In a magical world
Where I have long white wings
I wave them upon mighty Oceans
Against the ferocious storms
Rest them on crowded offshoots of dark jungles
And return back at night to the den
That lies up in mountains ___ above the clouds...
In yet another universe near by
Is there a different me__?
Trapped inside a cage
Wings atrophied__
The art of flying forgotten__
Even the desire __ to take a flight __is dead
Just walls __
And walks__ In a close loop...
Or is it just me?
One and only __ in the unlimited multiverses
But these feelings in my beating heart__
Something in my mind___ tells me
They exist...
Are they, like me, thinking about me__ right now?
What if one of them open a portal
And enter my world___
How would we feel?
Would we like each others’ life style?
Or is it, “grass is always greener on the other side”
But I wish her to be the one with mighty feathers
Would Swipe my life with her __ for a day or two
To feel my long dark hair
Floating on air waves
As I glide and soar high & high
Above the world
In a sweel parallel universe
(10th July 2021)
Paghunda Zahid
On the silver plain of eternity, the streams of silence flow uninterrupted,
In search of majesty, the white man, with branches of stars on his forehead.
Hunters of illusions, their weapons aim at the shadows dancing on the sky,
The prolonged assault echoes, the carrion of hopes in the wind fades, diluted.
The Africans, with their lunar fangs, pierce the earth seeking its aura,
The Arabs, with their authoritative paw, Scratch the heavenly vaults, claiming the right to the throne,
And the Asians, clever archangels of civilization, lay their master plan,
Even women, in their innocence, dream of crowns hidden in heaven.
The white man, civilization's ghost king, runs against the light of destiny,
His tames - a canvas for the rain of longing, his eyes - two lakes of mystery.
Each jaw that opens, each silhouette that hunts him, a promise of tomorrow,
a defamation of yesterday, a melancholy reverberation of what has been and will not be.
For in this magical world where hunter and hunted often switch roles,
each being carries the burdens of the past, clings to the dream of survival,
The misty civilizations of existence are stages for this immemorial dance,
And even in the face of defeat, the white man carries within himself the essence of the whole world.
He is the thought that flies above the traps, the unattainable desire,
And even under the burden of the fog, under the merciless assault, his beauty rises regal,
Elixir of life in the vicious circle of desire, to devour and be devoured,
He is the soul of civilization that survives in the magic and melancholy of every twilight.