Long Mountaintop Poems
Long Mountaintop Poems. Below are the most popular long Mountaintop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mountaintop poems by poem length and keyword.
The spiral staircase made her high heels sing
Descending in slow motion, a lovely sight to see
Graceful, ever so slightly lifting her flowing gown
Bare shoulders and plungent neckline
Emotional, he waited by the makeshift altar
Clutching handwritten vows and fidgeting
He wanted to capture every breathless millisecond
This mountaintop villa was truly a dream come true
From here the city churches pierced the mist
How long he had waited for this moment
For many reasons fearing it may never come
Sometimes life hangs but by a thread
And second chances aren’t always guaranteed
In a short ceremony he had married his goddess
As husband and wife, waving farewell through the door
He closed it, and, now smiling, crossed the square
By his side, the new bride he held proudly
Life offered now a million possibilities
And dreams of a fairy tale to write
AP: 2nd place, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on May 7, 2018 for contest ONE NINE AND SIXTEEN UPGRADE VERSION sponsored by VIV WIGLEY - RANKED 4TH
~FALLING, without winter wings~
CC
My mind sometimes goes there, somewhere, nowhere,
amongst the shooting shining stars, floating like in a womb, yet not afraid,
free falling flakes, weightless – wondering why, where
from the highest branch I lost my grip gasping, grasping
and tumbling hopelessly DOWN AND DOWN DEEP… into the unknown
PD
DOWN AND DOWN DEEP, I allowed myself to fall like a raindrop,
landing a little like winter, holding my breath, above the mountaintop,
a tremble brought about by the breeze, losing myself completely,
Wandering in welters of wasted words, into the fire of all my torrid tears,
I slip into despair into the cold, a chilling fall, after LETTING GO…
CC
LETTING GO was the hard part, the horrid heartbreak, it always will be.
We had climbed so high, so high we had to come down
and as we stumbled we slipped we slid, slowly away from one another
because we had lost ourselves, our own identities.
My journey now must be to like -- LOVE MYSELF AGAIN.
PD
LOVE MYSELF AGAIN, a never-ending task.
Holding on to what was and always will be a falling star.
Wishing, the wind would lift us up and put us back were we belong.
Sinking, dipping, dropping, and drowning with the sea,
A path I seek when I find myself losing grip of reality.
A Collaboration
By;PD
A small patch of flowers, a mountaintop glade.
Slapped into twirls of magenta by a cold rain~
voiceless but pleading for the purity of truth
to be taken by {a} tender into the beating of dawn.
In a sunny dream they'll play, black butterfly and fawn heart
tempering time until dusk makes the crows bark,
cackling where was the {us} when living turned to blood
drowned the frolic of every prayer for tomorrow.
Was it a chain of slanted decisions that minced the light?
bad luck (as when a dime slides from the ritzy to the grate...
maybe we met long ago, when we crawled from the sea
took different directions by the will of a rogue breeze.
Maybe we had parallel lives?
Made from the bones of wild planets on fire.
What happens when magenta meets black and blue
[this is a good time to dust off the palette- start mixing the hues],
what colors does a rabid cyclone leave behind
the texture of twisted stars,
to be swallowed by the devil of divine?
Young butterfly remembers the innocence of light.
When moonglow made love to the black lips of night.
'til a pack of knives slashed at its wings
(to hell with the good fight).
Now it no longer searches for mountain top flowers.
Nor does it dream in pools of magenta.
It lies in the mud juggling broken eggs
upon a pile of old dung-
How in the hell can such a thing... love
again.
but there is a softness buried deep
in this blaze of a runaway train.
Hop on board if you will
follow the reflection of manogre...
to be cont.
All terrain passing over sand stones from a distance catering to the hillside the mountain sent down a calming coolness while the barrels of oil leaked my minds eye focused on the stone slabs beneath the mountaintop grinding as the convoy entered the hidden nooks conveyed by night hiding under day teal lavender fabric covered my being hints of dates aroused my senses while meaningful gestures crowded my space chatter invaded this telepathically disdained balance covenant by old disagreements that poured out into the caves my knees trembled as I'm being quite pampered by kings giant screems facing every direction nations gathering for a group meet up my hands are kissed peppermint teas are chills served in brass tea containers looking over the world exploding I am comforted i am safe I am kandahar
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
At dinner, I stopped and stared at you.
The way an ant stares at a blade of grass
Or a heathen at a temple
And the way a child lays on a carpet in front of cartoons on tv
Staring
Or how the moon needs the earth but can only stare.
The waiter kept walking away
Like a bee above a blooming array
And how a meadow looks at snow
Wondering when
The river will fill it again
And make it green
Like your eyes
Staring at my blue.
Our eyes are soldiers in a field of grass
Bending each blade with our walk
Staring like the face of a rock
Below a mountaintop.
Like a branch and its peach
Our love seems out of reach.
I wish you’d cry your green into my blue
That’s how much I’m staring at you.
Tarahumara Indians are the best runners in the world
They are light of foot and body,
Super fit, in terrific shape.
They are healthy beyond healthy,
Snaking over rocky terrain,
They are limber, lean and stealthy.
But when they move off the mountain,
Worse, begin eating processed foods,
And stop running around the mountain tops
They get into unhealthy trouble
Their muscles rapidly turn into fat.
Distorting into a person they no longer know
Run back to your Mountaintop, Young men!
Run, Tarahumara Women, run and do not look back!
If we thought we could keep up
We would be right behind you.
WHAT A REFRESHING SIGHT !
Once, I went to a mountaintop lake
To invigorate my worn out self,
In tranquility, my eyes did take
Lovely pics of the watery shelf;
The colourful fish donned their shimmer
With multihued scales of smooth veneer,
My heart was sated by their glimmer,
As clear blue water mirrored my cheer;
Rejuvenated by the verdure,
I sat drinking in the treetop view,
Never had I seen beauty so pure,
Where everything was blazing anew;
Enthralled, I listened in the silence
To those whispering sounds of nature,
Whistling rustles confirmed God's presence,
His art imprinted on each feature.
06/02/17
the swinging swings
of the ups and downs
of the unbalanced scales
of justice now hang stilled
and suspended in bigoted air
anchored by the selfish weight
of the 5th amendment privilege
that remains a death sentence
choice for the defending
underprivileged innocent…
brutalized innocent mortals
whose spiritual morality abhors
death penalty finalization but
whose same moralistic
spiritualization upholds the
thy shall not kill commandment
must likewise demand the unwritten
beatitude of justice for the forgiving
meek consistently brutalized by acts
of non-good samaritan atrocities
chiseled in abject crucifixion on zion
mountains of molded injustices...
today’s waiting and being
of good courage has become
the teasing test of waning time
tic-toting life’s hours of redemptive
realities caged in the belly bowels
of a seemingly abandoned noah-like
arch sailing a treacherous sea of hell
with sour flowing tears from bitter eyes
stayed on the prize of promised equality
we still sing sweet amazing grace songs
applauding the coming resurrection
of our declared redemptive liberation
for like those of moses out of africa
we are the new exodus people sojourning
the shadowed valley of death with undying
faith in the promise of that beautiful morning
when time breaks up in eternity setting god’s
beloved hued children free at last…
Although you were not allowed to cross over the mountaintop to step on the Promised Land, the dream you sowed one hot summer day on a seemingly hardened barren soil finally came true after two score and five long years of struggle. After you spoke to us with a resonant but a quivering voice at God’s House that you may not come with us to the Promised Land that you saw from the mountaintop, and the next morning you fell onto the cold concrete floor of a motel balcony stricken by an assassin’s bullet, your dream is realized today. Rev. Dr. King! See it, your dream has come true through one vigorous and ambitious African-American man.
On January 20th of 2009, we Americans and every people from the every corner of the world witnessed an Inauguration Service held at our Capital City Washington D.C. A man was sworn in as our nation’s top executive officer, as the 44th President of the United States of America, Mr. Barack Obama. We the majority of Americans voted for him because it’s the time to leap forward under determinant leadership rather than look back and be in sadness.
Dr. King! The bell of freedom is ringing and echoing from every mountaintop of this nation as you so keenly desired and all people of the world are hearing this echoing bell sound with great joy. We, now, therefore ask you, the great spirit of the century to rest in peace in the tender caring bosom of our Almighty Father whom you deeply trusted and we all rely on.
American is, truly the nation of understanding. She accepts without discrimination or hesitation, whatever resources, conditions, or whom it may be, is capable of carrying out the needs of the day. America is the most proud country on earth today, no nation in the world has a broad mind like ours to admit men of all shades or ethnicity. America is really the land of opportunity, whosoever determine and pursue it ardently their course will be rewarded.
Our respectful Dr. King, today, our nation really became a land of impartiality as our nation’s founding fathers proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence, “All men are created equal.”
You know those mountaintop moments
When your spirit seems to soar,
When all the stars align just for you,
When you have all you wanted and more?
Everything you touch seems to turn to gold
And you can do nothing stupid or wrong.
Mountaintop moments make you feel like
You are invincible, immortal and strong.
They seem to come infrequently and rarely do they last,
But when they hit, they make life worth living.
In the in-between time, we long for the rush and
Thrill mountaintop moments alone will be giving.
It’s the in-between time where we live out most of our days.
Struggling, straining, worrying, working to align our stars.
Some have come to understand there are better ways.
Alignment can be manifested through focused thought and prayers.
You can learn to flow with Lifes River, easily carrying you downstream,
No need to fight against the swirling currents, memories of your past.
In-between moments can be raised to perfection.
Peace and happiness lived daily, create mountaintop moments that last.
Chula Fleming © August 14, 2024