Long Mountain Poems
Long Mountain Poems. Below are the most popular long Mountain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mountain poems by poem length and keyword.
Hisajo Sugita was an innovative and influential female Japanese haiku poet:
I remove my beautiful kimono:
its varied braids
surround and entwine my body
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This day of chrysanthemums
I shake and comb my wet hair,
as their petals shed rain
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This sheer kimono?
how the moon peers through
to my naked skin!
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
These festive flowery robes?
though quickly undressed,
how their colored cords still continue to cling!
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Chrysanthemum petals
reveal their pale curves
shyly to the moon.
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Loneliness?
reading the Bible
as the rain deflowers cherry blossoms.
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
How deep this valley,
how elevated the butterfly's flight!
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
How lowly this valley,
how lofty the butterfly's flight!
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Echoes from the hills?
the mountain cuckoo sings as it will,
trill upon trill
?Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
In the fabric of the world, "hate" is a heavy word, and "love" – equally laden,
When you lose yourself in the arc of unconditional affection, you know it's a beginning or an unexpectedly sudden end.
It does not hold you accountable for what you are or have been,
For you see, to love so intensely also gives you the power to hate, so deeply and impenetrable.
It doesn't come from the pessimism of lack, but from the pain that pierced you,
"Forgive and move on", they say, with ease and untested virtue.
But how can I not tire? When the heart barely heals, another comes and crushes it without blinking.
Each tear of mine is a heavy mountain carried on your name, borne towards eternity.
I have consumed all my forgiveness, the balm of peace I have found only in the ashes left after their burn.
"Live your life", you say, but don't forget – karma watches, relentless,
And I leave it all in her hands, to teach you that by wounding knowingly,
You traverse deserts of ash even on golden paths, on a backdrop of fervent prayers.
You planted the abyss in me, but that is the fate of the one who loves without bounds,
A curse to be born again, from love auctioned off – change forever.
To love is perhaps to throw one’s self into flames, to change unwillingly,
And all that I was breaks, a bird with clipped wings, in flight towards all that you might be.
Style speaks
Charm hurls voice
Cinqku profound
Understanding transcends
Surprise
Heed now
Sensorial
Feel nature spark
Movement in mundane glimpse
Blossoms
Smile sweet
In plain sight
Love light aglow
Live with sun and shadow
Blessings
Sensuous
Curvy lines
Kamasutra
Adrenaline pleasure
Rapture
Live wire
Electric
Feisty field trip
Quantum soup reflection
Wonder
A maze
In a daze
Wander in craze
Grandeur and splendour ace
Bright gaze
Look now
Deep within
Go deeper still
Beyond sure heart and will
Reveal
Venture
Adventure
Avoid censure
Measure beyond measure
Pleasure
Without
Not within
Vain disclosure
Dementia attending
Mindless
Warm gift
Momento
Downtown shopping
Branded goods selling cheap
Loose change
Calm cheer
Sits right here
Twirl of sweet spheres
Sensory upheaval
Touching
Hello
Keep in touch
Before the end
Tunnels jolt twist and turn
Goodbye
Tour group
China calls
Holiday trip
Glorious getaway urge
Five stars
Airport
Leaving now
Will be back soon
To be or not to be
Hurling
Report
Nameless
Missing person
Don't know what's happening
Query
Reason
Beyond rhyme
Problem puzzle
Jigsaw metaphor crafts
Unsolved
Twin hearts
Craft one love
Affair pleasures
Climbing up mountain top
Lasting
Lovely
Sensorial
Erotica
Primal pleasure mosaic
Climax
Nonsense
Unspoken
He says, she says
No one knows the ending
Nowhere
Words cite
New version
Verse craft wordplay
Awkward words in patchwork
Contest
Downpour
Flooding rain
Sudden wetness
Drenching weather report
Dowry
Live well
Touch and tell
Plain policy
Blossoming signature
Pleasing
Leon Enriquez
18 Mar 2014
Singapore
Esoteric mountain
The track leading up to the mountain
that had no spire but was as flat as a prairie
in Idaho, dark soil and spuds
My faithful dog refused to follow
preferred to hang around at slopes
she looked worried
On reaching the topless mountain
the sun was hot and had a dizzy spell
before passing out, I saw a mule
Someone carried me the stream's
nascent, pure water for me to drink
I found a lump of sugar in my pocket
I looked around and saw no humans
but heard the murmur of a whisper
from hearty, green grass gossiping
When rested, walked down and
found a bar with a neon sign in red
mystified, I thought of ill omen
In the salon, I told the barman what
had occurred, he visibly paled and said
leave the unseen ghosts alone
They are a choir that disappeared on
on a field trip a hundred years ago
at night, they sweetly sing for us
Coming out of the den, the dog waited
and led the way to the main road, but
what was the mule trying to tell me
Reaching for love
Mountain top wishes in echoing fashion
Whispers in sonnets afloat on the sky
Soothing the emptiness fraught with distraction
Sifting through clouded views wandering by
Northern horizons in tangerine ribbons
Sing in a melody sweet to the ears
Heavenly callings from faraway places
Drying the flow of my every day tears
Painting a landscape of pure understanding
Inside the dark fades a much softer hue
Nature reduced to its tiniest fragments
Illumined, the feelings I hold here for you
Narrow the tree line of dreams comes to offer
Shadows beneath every beckoning star
Finding a moonbeam aglow in its wisdom
Reaching for love now where ever you are
Good night Soupers
I passed many trees, all with ruby colored buds
Then, I crossed over a river, moving with ripples sparkling in sunlight
The open field beyond that, had just been cut, I could still see the lines
As I saw these beautiful sights, I forgot for a moment, I am still sick
I forgot, getting air to talk is harder than to walk
I could see the white blanket of snow still on the distant mountain
And close by, I passed a man making miniature picnic tables
Small enough for little children. I assumed he wanted to sell
Because soon will be warm enough for picnics in the fresh air
Where God gives so many gifts, all waiting for us to receive
I have received many in this creation, I love to think about
As I have also received friendships, care and support at this site
When I see the tall mountains and cross shining rivers capturing memories,
I never forget what everyone does here too, that means so much!
A place filled with talented people. caring people, gifted, spreading gifts
That I am forever grateful, to see, to share, to receive....Thank you!
Heidi Sands
4/23/20
Sarah's
Buckets
1/11/16
When you were young we loved to be free
we'd walk by the river and weave through the trees
With our small buckets in hand we would go
gathering rocks to friends we would show
admiring our rocks with a smile and a grin
We searched for the rocks again and again
Now that your older and out on your own
I hope you remember
the rocks and the stones
Though still I go on
rocks filled to the top
One bucket is missing
But still I can't stop
Some day when your older
When my days are done
I hope you remember the rocks and the fun
I built a rock mountain with all kinds of love
I hope you are proud of the work that we've done
believe that I did it my love your the one
I'll do it all over
heart happy so fun
Think of me often
the fun that we had
It's me that old timer
your devoted dad
1/11/16
Water Sculptor
Life stretches into abundant sheaths swelling with water,
Living breath of the selfless servant cascades through veins
Drawn into waterways of stalks and roots
Reaching – climbing – filling - shaping
Boughs of mighty oaks and agile weeping willows
Self-sculpture surging, fashioned into perfumed sinuous vines,
Arching floral sunbows,
Floods of bursting supple rose petal scented fountains -
The graceful limber lilac in nodding plies -
Filled to saturation and untouched
By the withering hand of drought
Strong stems of landscapes like waterfalls of vibrating weirs,
As buttercups in spas of tumbling dewdrops,
A living hush of gushing life infused –
Flowing in the murmur of the silent unseen molding,
Whispered into new wings soaring
On ever rising veils for conduits of resurrection
From inner arterial paths and aquatic branched channels
Waterknife shaping in undertones of colorless hues
The contoured face of field and forest - sky and mountain meadow.
6-20-21
Contest: The Shape of Water
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
12/12/2023
STROKE THE HEART, IGNITE THE FLAME
I went on a heathered journey to his heart.
So passionately anxious was I to depart.
To his welcoming mountain cabin in the woods.
I walked through the fresh snow, as best I could.
Where a warm, welcoming, fireplace awaited me.
Through the falling snow I could barely see.
His most alluring shadow on a shade I did see.
Only a few more steps, to be wrapped in those arms
that winter, magnificently.
The table was set with utter perfection.
Quickly, I entered,nearly running in his direction.
No time for useless chit-chat at all, now.
The candles flickered our shadows on the wall, oh wow!
Oh, night of passion’s amberness, truly divine,
two magical lovers, intertwined.
A kingdom of tenderness, when I was fully thine.
Part One: I Love
The eagle as it flies far above restless
fields of golden wheat and stagnant marsh bottoms
where mice and rabbits inhabit ancient cress,
living small and unaware now in autumn's
warning chill of season's soon coming winter~
but the eagle knows coming snow will splinter
nature into those who have and who have not,
and only wisdom will see what spring has wrought.
Part Two: I Hate
The cold wind as it winnows its spiteful way
across tall mountain peaks into the valley
where colorful summer flowers once did play,
enticing bees to a pollen-filled galley ~
now flowers are dead and the bees have withdrawn
to hide from the cold in their houses of brawn
while beautiful flakes become old snow piled deep,
and nature has burrowed for long winter's sleep.