Long Murmurations Poems
Long Murmurations Poems. Below are the most popular long Murmurations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Murmurations poems by poem length and keyword.
Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…
Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...
Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..
Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...
Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..
Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...
Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...
Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...
Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…
Saluting highfalutin pomposity..devouring skylines..
Notes of cut grass gloats floats from..
Middle class mowed manicured marvels..
Criss cross collaborations… surf the tailored turf....
Billiards baize ablaze with petrichor whiffs
Festooned with afternoon nana nap snores..
The radio's heavenly hum of cricket scores...
A duvet of familiar riffs...murmurs of what if's..
An inkling..whispers of summer's sprinkling serendipity twinkling..
Do not shed tears or grieve my death;
I do not fear my final breath.
I've felt the wind tussle my hair,
and when seasons changed, I was there.
I've danced amidst falling raindrops,
and watched Nature quench thirsty crops.
I've seen murmurations of birds,
and filled books with poetic words.
I've seen a sky full of stars shine,
ate gourmet foods, and drank fine wine.
I've witnessed Day morph into Night,
crossed seas, and experienced flight.
I've walked on fluffy flakes of snow,
and observed the tides ebb and flow.
I've loved, and received love in turn,
and my heart's felt passion's flame burn.
I've lived, now I'm ready to die,
there's no reason for you to cry.
The murmurations of a wounded heart,
one's rhythm lost, alone and incomplete,
are but a silent cry for where Thou art,
regardless how irregular the beats.
The walls, once closing in and much compressed,
are now relaxed, expanding in relief;
a heart is meant for love and joy expressed,
not soured by the bile of unbelief.
Lord, calm my fears and set my heart at rest,
and send Your spirit coursing through my veins.
Fill every emptiness within my chest
till naught but that which longs for you remains.
A heart song, scarce contained, yet pounding free,
finds true delight when locked in step with Thee.
The bogs’ their fruit – the woodlands’ leaf
embrace a ripened red motif,
as cranberries and maples blaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
Where starling murmurations dance
a breathless susurration trance,
ballet in blackbird-shape-shift haze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
And neath the cumulus, the breeze
colludes with stalks in raspy tease,
unfazed we ramble maize-field maze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
As apple-cider-sunset spills
behind the bluish granite hills,
I’m grateful for my eyes to gaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
When rain does bead on pumpkin’s skin
his smiling face still lit within,
I pray myself be filled Your rays
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Rumi
Upon my quest for quintessence.
I was an amorist,
positive in poetic philosophies.
Elysian and empyrean effigies,
enlightened in an ephemeral existence.
Life a fragile garland
festooned with a frangipani fragrance,
meandered in meadows of melodies,
a mouthpiece to a frivolous flute
but gone are lucent lusory lullabies.
I turned to the ballad of birds.
Dulcet desires dreamed of diamond drops,
dulcifluous, dulciloquent and diaphanous.
Delusions led to an interpretation of illicit illusions.
I became a metaphor for afflicted adjectives.
Mimesis mind became brittle and barren,
aphonic and amort - a crestfallen conscious.
A wild wallflower in an orchard of opal orchids,
slowly decomposing - in silent semblance
clocks won't stop for sojourners of the soul..
I searched for footprints left behind,
upon porcelain seraphic shores,
but knavish kismet lay lamenting,
disconsolate upon a distant island,
manifesting murmurations of a
maleficent maelstrom monsoon.
My life was once a
razzmatazz of reflections
gold, ivory and bronze,
but now silver sighs slither,
releasing a soft susurrus,
as once sapphire sylphlike skies are
now vermillion and violet visions.
Haematic horizons close the gates to heaven,
yet in my ruins, I know there is fortune,
as I polish my mirror of misfortune,
hoping it glows in canorous colours.
Miss Jessica Finch, the avian sleuth
Was scratching out novels and sipping vermouth.
She lived a charmed life when she was quite young;
Her first book, “The Voyeur: Peeking Duck Hung”.
“Peacocked and Loaded,” no rivals, unequalled.
“All Bluster, No Muster, “ a fan-favored sequel.
“Migratory Murmurations of a Wandering Heart”
And “Starling, My Darling,” her cross-over art.
“Covey of darkness: the Unpheasant Truth”
Shines light in glass houses, unkempt and uncouth.
The one she’s best known for, that everyone one knows
That suspenseful thriller, “A Murder of Crows.”
But the one she loves best, that still gives her pause,
The brilliant court drama, “Probable Caws.”
————-
for the A Flock of Birds Poetry Contest
sponsored by Julia Ward
written on 09/24/22
Ode to life
As I sought the sapling
Laying it deep within the soil
And tending to its needs
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday
As the clouds passed
And cast their shadow
In sweet bewilderment
Within its infinite summit
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday.
Flocks of sheep strolling the hills
Beneath the boughs of lustrous leaves
The wind blowing in the distance
Causing dry leaves to float
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday.
The steeple rises above darkened roofs
The pigeons swarming to find seed
Cars and buses bustling by
As dawn streaks the sky
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday.
After the ravages of the day
Till dusk adorns itself
The orchestra of lives
Until the cloak of dark settles
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it every day
The echo of receding murmurations
Intertwined in the abyss of waterfalls
Reconciled in the mist of time
Searching a new destination
I felt the divine light
Watching it everyday.
As scented roses fill the air
And dew drops bring the
Promise of a new morrow
Each blade looks to light
I feel the divine light
Watching it every day.