Long Moulds Poems
Long Moulds Poems. Below are the most popular long Moulds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moulds poems by poem length and keyword.
It ceases to be
at least in it's present form
than she spoke me as hers
in the relevance of love
might we stand together
in the unity of being
as lovers
committed
devote
as friends
together as one
a tribute to
Love
in all it's understanding
Love as it is defined
with every opportunity
to be together
and belong to one another
amorevole
Love in every shade
From "Mention Me"
by A.Gar Boots
aka Dolce Araia
rewritten with permission
by: Calm Vallies of
Tree Moulds and Vapor Productions
a Oasis Music Co.
kindness and tenderness
harmonious
harmonious
the transquilty of
Love
we as Lovers
con tenerezza
Shall every dawn a gentle sculptor be,
That moulds the clay of thought with softest art?
As yonder flower, bathed in crystal sea.
Doth catch the light and teach the drooping heart.
From golden vein where dewdrops slowly trace
Their shinning path along the petal's curve ,
So doth the mind, in quiet, sacred space,
Absorb the strength that daily trials serve.
Teach it to trust the root that grips the earth,
Though tempests rage and shadows cloak the sky;
For in the bloom that drinks the morning's birth,
Lies power born where fragile droplets lie.
Thus shape thy soul as dawn's own hand designs--
Believe thine own bright strength , and claim what shines.
Soft dawn
no longer you
steam curls from my cup
palms pause on the chipped mug edge
still here
Each day
I set one down
memory moulds its shape
pen scratches, ink hardens slowly
again
Outside
light rain falls
waning petals drum the glass
shoes splash across stone puddles
lingering
Rooms learn
my slow outline
shelves echo my careful tread
clothes folded, dishes stacked, life
counterfeit
My breath
keeps a tally
poems slip forward past my hand
past the hands that fold, sweep, and lift
still on
When Thor struck his hammer
upon the flat ground on Earth
it was the pieces withstood the blow we named rock,
constructs we came to know as the mountains.
Even before that time
I crossed my fingers
wished I'd one day experience
...you.
I knew you before heavenly purity grew wings
before angels blessed hearts
invoking what we now know as love for our brethren .
I held you in the sphere of my understanding
as the lover I'd never meet but always carry
in the most cherished of my thoughts.
When Zeus handed me his quill and inkwell I knew
I would only use his gift for my inspired notes to you.
Though I was not blessed a poets words
like Robert Browning
he who took Elizabeth Barrett into his heart from the first time he read her
so I did with you.
Only laid blood on parchment
to declare the love you inspired in me.
Like a schoolboy's first kiss
was the day my eyes embraced the body of your work.
Before the first pine broke the ground, the first lark sang,
the first orchards rare enchanted the rainforests.
Before the first chameleon blended
into the multicoloured break of dawn.
Before infinite rows of wheat invitingly waved from the fields to greet Hera.
Before liquid rose to separate into
creeks, swamps, rivers, lakes with fish of all kinds
wasn't it me who rode the first seahorse just to make you smile.
Anything, all...
possible
with the swirl of a letter
the turn of a word.
I found an immense love tracking the shores of your fine poetry
always a chill that ran up my back.
No one.
No one!
Only you.
Your fine talent,
gifted,
honed
perfected...flaws and all...
moulds
sculpts,
breathes life into ordinary words,
creates poetry
owns me.
September 26 2016 MY
Follow me son to Lady Liberty
Beset by wolves she struggles on
Our wounded pride lays her reeling
Absent her, our endless seeking better days are pointless
By fakery they left her quartered
Offended they aim to render her helpless
Yet the slightest sliver of light from her lamp
Ignites our inward drive to seek her form
Above persistent calls for anarchy, she breathes through us
Against a world of famine, she feeds us
From determination to dissolve, she holds us
Until toward brotherly love, she moulds us
So truth, her triumphant beacon lights the world
“America is, and always will be, a shining city on a hill.”
- Ronald Reagan
Robbinsville January 1943, a visionary artist was born to be
Country strong style, is his-story; par-excellence to you and me
Electric guitars just newly seen; would play one day, on music scene's
Where women will swoon, and young girls scream
Hard saved dimes, to his 'turn' would see; at Young Harris, in Towns county.
A Georgia boy made good & some stories, in country-rock/pop R&B!
A world I wouldn't miss, was 'born' to be; under the hands of Ronnie Lee!
Smoky mountain rain fell on our hearts, through cracklin radio's to early starts
'Pure Love' played all its lively parts; at park or mall & in K-marts.
His music echoed in the '70s & '80s, along with chrome mag wheels & feelin free.
Milsap impacts listener land, to date he stirs the soul of man,
His flow is rolling, verging on unplanned, his 'Local Girl' understated-grand
My finding is; my verdict says there's 'more of our guy' on the way!
When I'm feeling weary or senses grey, a 'hit' from Ronnie lifts my day.
Cross Missouri mudflats, on Florida sand; he moulds emotions in his hands.
©JOE MAVERICK 2-11-2015
When you stare at a full moon,
does it map a heart distracted?
does it bear grief-thoughts
caught by light refractive?
does it shred a net of self protection?
is it a lunar mirror of your own reflection?
A glow to seize the brass ring of one's attention
Tell me, does your settled glance kick start
solumn meditation?
Do you ponder a kneeling peace of enviable salvation?
Is a world in fractions a baffling link, distraction?
Or is a stare uncharted, simply wonder drifting?
A gaze that softly moulds your face in night.
Lumbering moments to close the buzzing chords
of blight
Questions unanswered that seal the wounded
light
Poem revised: February 15, 2021
KULLA
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" She said he so dumb he thinks that Alcubierre Drive
is three doors away from his destination.
I tried to explain to him that was Warp Drive he then talked about
getting a new car. That's one dumb fella I tell ya!" Said StratonMusse':
he knows his block making though, formula, and production.
He has a skill for density and scaled production procedures.
I found him keen and quite genius.
Foam Concrete Block production Module
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Needs....... Foam Machine with a air compressor
Used Motor Oil for the non stick effect
Construction Mixer
A custom Mould for block making
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
250 grams of Alpha Olefin sulfonate
dissolve in 8 liters of water
pour into a foam generator
in a barrel add
2 kilos of cement
37 kilos of gypsum
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Agency specific data Sets--------------------------------Cage Code----------------
2 liters of water
50 liters of foam
mix with a construction mixer
pour into greased moulds
allow to harden
remove from moulds
and allow to air dry for a week
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Slope--Grade--Vertical Plumb...........................................................
.......................................................................
Goddess sculpted from a stone,which dances to the cosmic rhythm,
beautiful and varied colors strewn on a canvas to play together,
its a symphony played by hearts ,strung to a hymn,
an act of words which tell stories making u and me,cry,laugh or love.
A lump of mud moulds itself into a lovely vase,which is graced by
pretty flowers,..
hmmm..such heavenly charm,where do we see?
Do we need to turn the hands of clock or turn on the imagination switch?
Now,the dancer has trinkets of coins around her feet, sound to which
she/he dances,
the canvas has turned so green to see other colors,
and the melody has the notes of dollars,chiming to its auto tune.
The lyrics hardly make sense and words rarely make
wonderful stories.
Overtly made-up dolls,who do not evoke or make heart flutter.s
Art ,its a flickering candle in the strong winds of mediocrity,
which needs strong hands to hold it together,
to let it shine brightly.
So lost,need to keep looking for it until its found
but will it be???
PS:Written on 8/6/21
This poem is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings.Its just my personal let out of how
things changed esp in the field of different art forms.Kudos and salute to those true artists,who are keeping it alive and honouring it with its true place.
Love lines linger
Feel form finger
Gripe greets ginger
Preach pretty pale
Touch telling tale
Sense simple sale
Live loose loiter
Mind moulds matter
Seek swell shelter
Make moments meet
Grumpy gears greet
See surprise street
Pump precious play
Streak sensuous stay
Dance dreamy day
Plot prompts prized poise
Charm cheery choice
Verse vibrant voice
Live loving lot
Touch telling thought
Speak spacious spot
Query ***** quest
Big blooms buzz best
Reap roomy rest
Lasting love lives
Bright blossoms breathe
Gracious good gives
Prime prune pickle
Feel faint fickle
Touch treats tickle
Grumpy grief grooms
Odd offers oomph
Rusty rhymes room
Leon Enriquez
06 December 2014
Singapore