Long Mango Poems
Long Mango Poems. Below are the most popular long Mango by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mango poems by poem length and keyword.
black velvet visioning vast void
kaleidoscopes glittering joyed
sanctified symphonies decoyed
cherubs cheer shimmering stars
darting dancing across Mars
awed are we, telescopes focus
seeing Suns burst hocus-pocus
bouncy brides in lacy locus
sky vineyards pour wine splashing
blood red hibiscus dashing
mind boggles as Darkness unfurls
penetrating strikes into pearls
goddess petals flourishing whorls
gold pistils dripping syrup
Presence is widely worshipped
ruddy fingers touch depth, pitch sing
observation salty tears bring
guide us to exalted High King
heralded by rose angels
seraphim soft enables
point piercing ignites another
quarks entangle quantum lovers
ink deep sizzles like no other
each space hollows of God's Eyes
Infinity dies then rise
•
existence an eternal tango
eating spheres orange mango
Being neither panto or nando
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Where to hide?
In a bird cage,
Behind a curtain
In a silk bag,
Under an oak table,
Where to hide?
In a hollow path,
On a white boat,
In Nebraska
Or the bed of a mango,
Where to hide?
In a monkey skin,
There are many ideas
On a red star,
Sleeping all night?
Where to hide?
In the eyes of a friend,
In a barn fire,
In the straw of a crib
Behind pretty santons?
Where to hide?
The wine binds us,
Under the wooden posts,
In the mists of old
In icy winters,
Where to hide?
In a reread poem,
In the scent of a rose,
In the closet of the past
Under a zebra skin,
Where to hide?
Under the sirens of New York,
Under the Congo forest,
In the desert of Mojave,
In the blazing sky,
Where to hide?
In a Greek village,
In a blackened river,
On the psychiatrics couch?
In a children’s book,
Unfortunately, no one has an answer.
in the year 288 B.C,. on the planet Fulodtrey in the Galaxy Dillo-Sega 8
an asteroid that orbits the fourth planet nearest to the sun, has shown signs of Volcanic Eruption. The Six Colonies on the Asteriod, unite and sent a beckon signal to Earth, and the S$ppa Franez. But the Suppa Franez aint the only ones listening, the Evil leaffon of Dome, intercepts the transmission, and hurries to the Asteroid to set a trap for the Suppa Frenez.
Pizzrro....mi evil, I the reel Suppa Man, I take blue strippa-nite and mi make Suppa-main weak! I crush him like wheat neath the stoney wheel, (evil laugh) ha, ha, ha !
Trex Luffa.... No powers of Goodness can stop the Leaf-on Dome, them ole Suppa Frenez, gone find out that we too, can rule the world, and other planets too!
You people think that we all bad, but we good! see, I can re-call the time when we had the Suppa Frenez at our mercy, we used a large rock to shield us from the laser blast from the Suppaship flown by Aqua Main, we told them that it contained Cordmordus Si, they didn't listen and sent a laser blast that exploded and caused thousands of people to develop Cuss-Cussing Syndrome.
Our Evil sponsers withdrew commercial funding from some of our evil projects, we had to hire Rapper Say-So, to make mad people to again fund our Evil endeavors, and they did, boy did they we raised more money than those Suppa Frenez, and now we are gonna use our evil powers to destroy the Suppa Frenez !
taken from the book Dome of Evil written by Mango Salter. The New World Press, of the Dango Cootton Press.Copyrighted 2017, new York, new York! Illustrated by Meangus Gettums, Los Angeles Art and Screen Show.
Visit me again when I dream in my sleep,
I cannot rest, love! without you in my sleep!
Echo of your lilting laughter still rings deep,
moments of joyous love I dream in my sleep!
The raw mango orchards with fruits in a heap,
Sour effect on your face I dream in my sleep!
I walk past your brick house, past those grazing sheep,
Silence of your absence I dream in my sleep!
I remember carrying you up slopes steep,
Your warm arms around me I dream in my sleep!
Many coloured balloons we caught in a leap,
your fright when they pop loud, I dream in my sleep!
Do you think of me too whenever you sleep?
I dream of you dreaming of me in my sleep!
Written 03-09/2020
Ghazal poetry contest
Sponsor Silent one
My “honey” with chestnuts will not come for Christmas,
It’s life, you have to enjoy yourself anyway
once a year,
New Year’s menu to enjoy at the time you like,
Foie gras with a glass of Monbazillac,
Snails with butter,
Scallop shell with lemon-white butter
Short break
Quail with hot mango
and hazelnut potatoes,
Maybe cheese with the tour des grands ducs (local wine)
Then the dessert
Traditional bûche de Noël
You are all welcome
No need to be a millionaire even at Christmas
Merry Christmas ou Joyeux Noël
Ma « dinde » aux marrons ne sera pas pour Noël,
C’est la vie, il faut se faire plaisir quand même
une fois dans l’année,
menu du réveillon à déguster à l’heure qu’il vous plaît,
Foie gras avec un petit verre de Monbazillac,
Escargots au beurre persillé,
coquille Saint jacques au beurre blanc citronné
Petite pause,
Cailles accompagnés de mangue chaude
et de pommes noisette,
Peut être du fromage avec la tournée des grands ducs ( vin local)
Puis le dessert
Bûche de Noël traditionnelle,
Vous êtes tous invités
Pas besoin d’être millionnaire même à Noël
Joyeux Noël
A very good morning to all my fans,
My uplighters, my blossom,
an add on to my faithful viewers
amongst my midst
in a pandemonium world:
While the bush fire continues out west
in Brooklyn streets, we still wish for mango trees,
Instead of the many visible dumpsters,
Our Netflix, our prime videos,
Our, You Tubes channel streaming, while
Some represent modern times, the others have just
The right touches for one’s loneliness in lockdown towns,
In all of our troubled days of depression,
*The vast new reports of shunning, is uprising my fans*
How the world copes with madness, and death
Per day, as the world spin faster, and faster,
To a never-ending dilemma,
But somehow, the richest demand more gold,
While the low renter, begs the government for help..
*The roses and the lilies talk of art and also of love.**
At the summit conferences what really do they talk about?
Under the various mask faces?
A very good morning to all my fans,
My uplighters, my blossom, a add on to my
Faithful viewers amongst my midst
in a pandemonium world:
This is not poetry, only observations my friends.
LIST regarding MY GARDE
My garden grows plants of my choice. My heart throbs with rustling leaves.
It pleases my eyes spreading green tapestry. My mind dances in delight
with floral charm.Tall stubborn trees along boundary provides nest for birds.
Butterflies flutter wings.
It has a long lawn enriched on Mexican grass
It has shrubs of periwinkle as hedge
It has marvelous bougainvillea at entrance.
It has Magnolia, Flamboyant and Mango tree beside boundary wall.
It holds bright blossoms throughout year.
Joyous jasmine, favorite of mine
White Gardenia glistens with sweet scent.
Roses glow in red, pink and yellow.
Seasonal flowers bloom in turn.
Summer yields Sunflowers
Rainy season brings Night Queen and Lilies in array.
Garden shines in luster as Autumn appears.
It shows Dahlias, Cosmos and Chrysanthemum in Winter.
It becomes spectacular in Spring
It gains added beauty as pollen grains are scattered all over
It accommodates a pair of white rabbit.
it tempts me to swing in swing at its center, as gentle breeze blows.
It calls me swaying branches of trees in stormy days
It welcomes me with zephyr at afternoon in spring.
It greets me with murmurs of leaves.
It shows game of light and shadow for whole day
08/02/19
Writing Challenge 3 , July 2019 by Dear Heart
There is no autumn here as you know it
no leaves that blush and fall and die.
Mango does not drop because September tells it to,
the island does not shiver, the sun does not go shy.
But Rasta knows autumn all the same,
not by the calendar, but by the ground.
When the rains have spoken and the earth is soft,
when the yam swells heavy, deep and brown.
Autumn is not orange, it is gold and green,
it is Ital from the garden, reaping what was sown.
It is callaloo and pumpkin from Zion's hand,
breadfruit roasting over fire, Jah's love made known.
It is the time of reasoning, of balancing the soul,
when Babylon says hurry, but I and I sit slow.
When the harvest comes, you count not what you lost,
but what you kept in spirit, what you let go.
No sweaters, no bonfires just incense in the dusk,
drums low like thunder, children husking corn.
Autumn in Jamaica is not an ending, seen
It is a keeping. A gathering. A returning home.
where to Hide,
Where to hide?
In a bird cage,
Behind a curtain
In a silk bag,
Under an oak table,
Where to hide?
In a hollow path,
On a white boat,
In Nebraska
Or the bed of a mango,
Where to hide?
In a monkey skin,
There are many ideas
On a red star,
Sleeping all night?
Where to hide?
In the eyes of a friend,
In a barn fire,
In the straw of a crib
Behind pretty santons?
Where to hide?
The wine binds us,
Under the wooden posts,
In the mists of old
In icy winters,
Where to hide?
In a reread poem,
In the scent of a rose,
In the closet of the past
Under a zebra skin,
Where to hide?
Under the sirens of New York,
Under the Congo forest,
In the desert of Mojave,
In the blazing sky,
Where to hide?
In a Greek village,
In a blackened river,
On the psychiatrics couch?
In a children’s book,
Unfortunately, no one has an answer.
Copyright © yann rolland | Year Posted 2023
Should greed or ignorance wear blame?
That Africa once sold her kin
Years ago she traded huge pots
For the satisfaction of a plate of food
Her gems she gave for painted steel
Sacrificing her bed for a one night stand
I heard she pulled her tortoise from it's shell
And drank the thought of a better home
Her green serpent preferred the mud
And bore a grudge against green grass
Her coconut craved a mango tree
And her sun called for the sky at night
She killed her hen to seek more eggs
And collected milk in exchange for cattle.
She slept with many borrowed beliefs
Betraying her husband and her ways
She spread her legs for convincing men
And each dug deeply to make her weak
She opened her bosom to greedy men
Who sucked them dry and left them sagged
Crown her the promiscuous Mistress expedient
For she sold tomorrow to buy yesterday
By: Adams Elizabeth Oyarese
Lizdiamond Poetry World