Long Moonlight Poems
Long Moonlight Poems. Below are the most popular long Moonlight by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moonlight poems by poem length and keyword.
“When I am silent, I fall into the place where everything is music.”
Rumi
If life was a song,
what would be your refrain?
When instruments of fate performed
in a ballad of somber sorrows,
I floated like a ballet dancer
in an eclectic fashion.
My silent tongue had no melody,
before love sowed harmonic tones,
in a reverberating remedy of refreshing
rhythms soothing a tortured soul.
As my voice softened in a symphony
of violin strings and saxophone vibratos,
our bond composed a chorus of notes,
like satin feathers from hummingbirds
in soft clarinet choral chords,
only heard in an orchestra of a
velvet butterfly renaissance.
You always have my songs on repeat,
but I wonder if you will change the record?
Together we write lyrics,
sing verses as distant duets
with drumbeat dynamics.
Yet I am a metaphor of saffron rays
lost in the absence of lilac moonlight.
Everyday you disappear with dawn,
as morning whispers her blessings.
I'm left alone with birdsongs,
who join in with my colourless chorus -
echoing my angst of yearning to be free.
I wonder if you will remain a twilight sonata.
If you are the ebony to my ivory keys
in this crescendo of bohemian dreams,
why can't we be boundless as the sea?
This vinyl veil we call existence
is a composition of heartbeats
with heartstrings woven into
a vibrant bridge of emotions.
Sadly no pedestal can reach
lingering lullabies of the sky,
so we continue to cast hues
of golden heavenly harps,
before final tenors are heard.
If life was a song,
our refrain would be an acoustic
with steady beats, sometimes
with too much bass to air -
but we can control the volume.
Tempo will always change
like a decrescendo,
but we are the conductors
of our own musicality.
Not all serenades sounds the same -
no muse sings forever.
As moonlight gleams upon your tanning skin
while drops of crystal form upon that brow--
tufts of hair stroked by ambrosial wind
your eyes begin to dance, a joyous play
when evening mist unfurls our rendezvous,
as light in tones of cerise starts to flame:
With arms interlaced against dusk's marquee
these open lips are humming notes away
in this pier, furnace of hours' rhapsody
kindles our passion through glaze of desire ,
that tides are swaying madly back and forth,
as shadows wrap a cloak of fire around...
O let evenfall remain for awhile
till darkness hides our secret love affair.
For Joseph May's Picture This Contest
Image 3 Written 3/25/2018
Eventide’s splendorous motifs on blazing arc rise
Tinting golden horizon of glinting vermillion skies
Where setting sun inflames decaying gilded rays
As twilight glistens graying eve’s yellowing haze
And pewter winds rustle leaves, lilting meadows
Swaying hills of trees in rhythms of tilting shadows
Where bidding the day goodbye birds hastily fly
While enchanted in luminant sky people amble by
Reveling ebullience of nightfall glowing in moonlight
Dazzled by twinkles of stars lifting tenor of night
As nightingale’s love song enthralls nocturnal appeal
When orchestra plays above scintillating astral zeal
Quietude soon endows dreams of exuberant dawn
As the reign of moon and stars sparkles on and on
Till misty morn awakens to melodies of robin’s call
And sun rises again to walk the new day to nightfall
October 19, 2020
Placed 2nd: Collaboration with Silent One Poetry Contest
We’re going on a break, R and R for a week.
It’ll be just my beautiful girl and me.
Plan on sitting on a beach, alone on a beach,
Just sipping some fine Chablis.
We’ll sit and we’ll talk about nothing at all,
Warming with the fine soft sand.
Slowly but surely kind of cooking ourselves,
Cooking until we are tanned.
Then we’ll wander in waves, vibrant radiant waves,
Getting hit, bashed, and crashed by the swell.
Until the end of each day when we’ll walk our way back,
Via pubs and cafes to our hotel.
There we’ll do what all loving couples can do,
And do it well into the night.
We’ll enjoy the calm dark, out by the warm poolside,
And do it in the moonlight.
Each day will begin with the slow hug, passionate kiss,
Hot coffee, and a warm bun.
We’ll be on a fiesta for a week at a beach,
For both of us a week full of fun.
Some flowers bloom well into twilight,
moonlight mesmerizes them,
leads them into dreams of distant dawns.
The velvet drapes of summer
do not offend them,
rather they entice
as they bathe
within deeply tidal lullabies.
Gently the blossoms succumb,
gentle is the soft enfolding.
A warmed and darkening air descends
to couple with the intimate scents
of floral favors, perfumes that linger
upon wafts of intimacy.
all hidden by sequestering shadows,
an efflorescence is shared
within a sanctuary of confidential pleasures,
raptures far from
the harsh dazzle of daylights
prying gaze.
On a calm cold dark wintry night.
The snowflakes softly fell in the
moonlight.
I watched millions of snowflakes
peacefully falling. It was a magical,
visual moment to see snowing.
Mother Natures beautiful scenic show.
Was a memorable vision, to love and
to know.
Such a calming effect allowed me to
feel.
A state of wonder, that was wonderfully
surreal.
An experience of a lifetime to see
and react. A Peace in my soul, I
will never forget.
This visionary marvel was captured within.
Taking me to a place I have never been.
Michael Tor
Last night you haunted my dreams.
Together we teased under tousled covers.
Never have I felt such a loving touch;
tearing at my burning, clammy skin.
Your lips stimulated a weakened mind.
Pressing the flavor of passion upon me,
I felt my heart rise in all expectations,
as sweaty palms read the secrets of my body.
Sweet reflection of pale moonlight bathed us,
oblivious were we to entwine beneath.
A former bitter fantasy had taken me hold;
two souls have united in exhausted holy love.
Dew formed as we clung to the night.
Before you faded I called out my love,
only to awake to empty yearning—longing.
Your kiss lingered on my skin as sense and taste.
The fantasy has gone and few memories remain.
A passion hangs in the rhythm of my heart,
or when a pregnant moon shines her vigilant light
I'll remember our shared dreams all of my life.
Blues Poem #26
Everybody wants
to go to heaven
But nobody
wants to die
Everybody wants
the mojo queen
Who rides in
on the moonlight tide
Everybody wants
to go to heaven
But nobody
wants to die
Ain’t a woman been made
who won’t steal your soul
and keep you
— half alive
(Tribute To Albert King)
Blues Poem #27
An aging
harp player
trying to bend
the next reed
New breath
in the shadows
where servitude
bleeds
His hands
old and wrinkled
each note
a new plea
And out
of the darkness
his riff
— sets you free
(Tribute To Sonny Terry: March, 2026)
Youth
Strong, agile, energetic
Resilient and passionately
hardworking.
Preparing a place worthwhile
To grasp and grab
The best of life's offers.
Mounting pressure to pursue
Hands on plough
No looking back.
For the crown
Bearing the cross
Cruising with the youth
Roads, crooked and straight.
Fate, blurring and unknown
Before the night
Making a worthy noon.
Elder
The night is here
Bodily bent, old constant tremble
Senility creeping in
Weak bones within wrinkled
flesh.
The wisdom tooth, a pride
Each night, a grey hair.
Children and memories
Moonlight and tales
Waiting...
Reveries of young
Legacies set and shared
Waiting for the angel of death.
Dead
Accomplished end
Expected beginning.
Adieu, good night
It is all morning here.
Alone to claim
The record beyond
Good or bad.
At the left then Eden
Watching posterity
From a blessed bossom.
Through the trees below
the moonlight rises in its glows
hidden ghosts, hidding shadows.
Eerie cries in the quiet night place
call creatures to gather warm and safe
in their self chosen individual space.
Still and quiet nothing moves
the late night, early morning hues
flow in monochrome discolored grays and faded blues.
The harvest moon above them all
signals change and storm residing in the breezy squalls
bringing on the end of summer's final call.
In the distance falls then rise the cooling sun
and in its birth and death the recurring hum
the time of autumn harvest comes.
Full moon glows bright orange and huge
the seasonal marking time of refuge
with all but winter's threatened clues.