Long Moistens Poems
Long Moistens Poems. Below are the most popular long Moistens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moistens poems by poem length and keyword.
Thus she slowly packs her bags and leaves
sated by the touch of pollination’s breeze
moistens soft petals of flowering wings
succumbs to the drone each buzzing bee sings
squeezes a raindrop – a tear if you will
for seasons in passing cannot sit still
nor do they tarry - wish to stay on
for with their passing another is born.
Life is not troubled by its limited stay
nor sunrise diminished by each fading ray
for moments are moments and each holds a place
in history’s shadow - season’s retraced.
Summon the heralds - sound a glad tune
welcome July – bid adieu to sweet June.
John G. Lawless
©6/25/2019
A life of hope is no joke
Who’s laughing now?
You are a humanitarian bully
You had your fist and hands over me
You placed me on your personal cross
You came across meek, yet you were weak, you are loss
You pains me, your apologize come across emboss
Moistens, yet stilled rigid
This ain’t no joke, man
Sometimes I be hurting
Your smile and your ways
Haughty and hurt me for days
I am not your comment folk
My life more than consequential
I am essential
More than just a body
I am of God’s spiritually embodiment
I AM HIS SON
5/14/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
It is that of the rain to which falls.
That of a winter wind to which blows.
It is of the rain drop to which started this day.
Not that of a sun shine but that of a doom day.
It is of something wet as it is a mist from that to have formed.
That of water from the ground to which that cloud had form.
There I lay, with a thought of you this day.
As the rain beat lightly on the roof top it runs this day.
You would think that far up, the rain drops would hit harder.
But it’s there with gentleness to which God watches its fall.
As the leaves turn color and it is of a winter fall.
It’s there; I’m curled in the sheets.
Wishing you was at my needs.
As it is with my heart to which reins for you.
That it’s there to which my heart sweats for you.
Touches of gentle kindness as you bring that of warmth about.
It’s there the drops fall as it moistens the ground.
A rein out from a howl inside, that with a growl for love.
It’s there I want to experience drops with you.
Not of cold rain but that of a heat of passion with an explode.
That we rain in which is a sweat of wetness.
As we would take the day off and enjoy that of the rain he gave.
And make it that not of a rainy day but that of love droplets of spray.
Twelve tree frogs sing in loud chorus
on this damp, foggy morn
Their vocal would break the sound barrier
By it nature is torn
Fog caresses the valley
Settles loosely on trees
Exaggerates the silhouettes
Moistens all the leaves
The frogs have removed the silence
Their din walks on nerves
They need another residence
Where they won't be heard
Ship them to another planet
Box them up in damp wrap
Let them start a new settlement
Send them, get them trapped
My prayer for rain was answered
This morn is nice and cool
The frogs loved it also, singing
To God their thanks refueled
For a moment I was ungrateful
The constant din distrubed
Now I am accepting of the sound
Let them sing unpreturbed
The tree frogs or rain frogs came out
in wild excitement last night following the rain..
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest: A Positive Poem
Written: Tuesday, June 24, 2014
In a white realm, where optimism drifts away.
Frescoed moonbeams on walls, in swirling array.
Such silky cream and vanilla, delicately sifting.
As the full moon lingers, its light briskly heaving.
Languid souls quest elixirs in ewers that drip.
Crystalline nostrums for life's moribund ship
Water mugs crammed with jewels of ivory,
Smidgen mellow, a malodor for the misery.
As we tackle the maze of vivacity and strength,
While anguish and grief seem the only wealth.
The moon's grasp soothes with a placid embrace.
A lambent chimera is a dreamer fulfilling grace.
Within the vault of night, dreams unfold.
As fingers of fate in the shadows reach and hold.
Impending doom may cast its darkened spell,
But within moonlit dreams, all is well.
The moon's magnitude moistens maligned hearts,
Mending muddles and melding the brittle parts
With sanguinity as a mentor, the moonlight dance.
A beacon of solace, a happenstance for romance
In moonlit dreams, the world is at peace.
As anguish and grief descry revered release.
A sanctuary of quietude, serenity, and grace
Dreams amid the moonlight, a sacred place
No longer burdened by the weight of despair,
In this ethereal realm, troubles strive for repair.
The moon's healing touch, such a gentle caress,
A soothing balm, a respite from life's stress.
Twas the day after Easter when my Cardiologist said,
“Good morning Lazarus” as he entered the room.
You should no longer be here but among the dead,
but a miracle has happened displacing all gloom.
From sixteen fluid bags that on a drip frame hung,
And in seven days God’s tally was only one.
Even some Doctors had God’s name on their tongue,
many visitors were amazed at what God had done.
I became a vehicle that was bringing God glory,
And “Good Morning Lazarus” still moistens my eyes.
I’m sure many tire of this often told story,
but I know God is pleased each time i vocalize.
AGE OF LOVE
To love and to be loved,
as socially observed
is the prime passion,
need not to mention.
Teen-ager or youngster
It does not matter.
Ladies and Gentlemen
Senior Citizen!
All welcome in field of love.
Same age? Not to reserve.
Most humans develop attraction
in contemporary generation.
Yet, neither rare nor impossible,
Rather always permissible
Affairs between Ladies and Gents
as going on from ancient to recent.
Age of loved one may be much more or less,
not hampering mutual happiness.
Amour is a flow in bubbling blood,
washing two hearts in passion-flood
Younger or Older? No questions.
Two souls unite, and emotion moistens.
12/15/17
Third Place
'STRAND SPECIAL U' Contest by Brian Strand
Upon choosing to surrender,
we feel within, soundless thunder;
Holy Spirit moistens dry beaks,
as bliss beats rise and rapture peaks!
Cleansed of erst feral residue,
love glistens like the morning dew;
there then are no energy leaks,
as bliss beats rise and rapture peaks!
Shedding lust, we’re a child again,
measuring neither loss nor gain;
voice of conscience to us then speaks,
as bliss beats rise and rapture peaks!
Letting innocence have its way,
in joy presence begins to sway,
we behold then soul’s blushing cheeks,
as bliss beats rise and rapture peaks!
Entwined with the vast universe,
heart sings a melodious verse;
desires exhumed, no one here seeks
as bliss beats rise and rapture peaks!
Bleak winter Melbourne morning,
a cold wind coming in
from across the Bay
and blowing down the street,
past the Esplanade Cafe
with the smell of coffee
and warm air spilling out
from an open door.
I stop, look at the cake
and pastry display through
the window, the basket
of freshly baked croissants,
Danish pastries topped with
strawberries and apricots
and glazed with syrup.
A cloud of steam
from the espresso machine
adds a touch of the surreal.
Anticipation moistens my mouth
on the sight of French vanilla
slices plump with custard
and cream, muffins erupting
from their papery patties,
Portuguese tarts, thick slices
of carrot cake topped
with icing. I savor each
with an imaginative bite
and decide my treat…
then groan. I've left my wallet
at home.
( for Deb M )
Written: May 25, 2025, for Contest: Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "There is a place where voices sing your beauty, A place where every breath carves your image in my soul. Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws" By Rumi
***********************
Night's silky scarf adorns a lunar necklace sign,
Wanting her a ruby silk veil in a tuxedo design?
Translucent limbs disseminate flowers sublime.
I fondle her soft skin at the golden hour's time.
Swept by every idle breeze, as if there to soar,
Borrowing an unending sigh of time, dark core.
A revered but wild kiss, a glazed ember sways,
We will unite and break, dulcet love, swift ways.
Slightly higher down the breathless, winding path
Continue to inhale despite the windy day's wrath.
An aromatic ambrosia moistens deep, secret caves,
As I unzip my soul and bones below dark waves.
To quietly remember her fading, love-struck gaze,
Pouring dew on a beguiling night's enchanted maze.