Long Nocturne Poems
Long Nocturne Poems. Below are the most popular long Nocturne by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nocturne poems by poem length and keyword.
Walking along the oceans sand, in the crisp evening air
He happened upon a sand castle built by a child’s, tiny hand
It's delicate, virginal beauty, a short time it would last
Much too soon the waves of the sea would wash it to a distant past.
Those little footprints, ingrained on some land
Where a sweet, small child had carefully planned
A beautiful, fragile castle in sand
He was painting a picture in his mind of those little hands and feet.
The nocturne of a symphony with children directing the beat.
The rolling motions of the sea kept a rhythmic roar with the waves
They rolled to the shore in syncopated lyrics making wet, sandy graves.
His hope he carried in his heart
As he walked quietly along the sea
He wanted to make everything right
But he was doubting his ability
A silent cantata of a discordant roar of time,
Was singing a haunting melody in voice A-cappella
Chanting audible chords of memories in his mind
His thoughts went back to the little child, building a dream carved in sand
A a child who was thoughtfully shaping their future on land.
As he sat on the shore in pensive thought,
His own child came to his mind.
A sweet little girl, not a care in her world
Singing her innocent, happy rhymes
He’d come home from work, needing time to unwind
Too busy and tired to give his child enough time
She learned to walk and talk all while he was gone
While her mommy taught her all those cute, little songs
"Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffett
Eating her curds and whey
The little spider that sat down beside her
Until she shooed him away"
His wife, the apple of his eye, a woman who stood by his side
He wrote her name inside his heart, always wanted her as his bride.
They fell in love, prayed for a sweet, little child to share all their love.
The Lord in Heaven heard their prayers and sent them a little girl from above.
His memories led him back to home
Knowing he made those vows without end
Finally knowing what he must do..
He’d take his wife and child by their hands
To make their lovely, delicate castles in sand
*~*
A Father Clock chimes from a wall in the dining room, refreshing the idle couple that waited.
It was not as if they were reminded of some pressing appointment or some devoted chores that was delegated.
The furniture in the room where they sat idle was ancient and concealed with cryptic scratches stimulating memories of a once lively lifestyle.
An arrowhead seat, brown and sagging occupied one corner of the room making an impression on the carpet conceding that it's been there a while.
In other parts of the room, the faded blue cut pile carpet flaunted gummy substances and foot tracks that were desperately in need of a broom.
Chopin's Nocturne, (seeking their memories of the days of wine and roses), smoothly flowed evenly from the highly varnished Philco console radio and turntable, graced the room.
He sat in a high wing chair opposite her steeped in an art and literature magazine.
Occasionally his deep brown eyes circle with a gray arc would give into a burning need to close and he would nod off, which was a daily routine.
In the highlights of his years, he was a successful entrepreneur, delightful, sophisticated, a celebrated man among his race.
That was more than two decades ago, and although he still hungers for those days he knew that he has grown miserably slow and not able to keep up in a modern-day virtual place.
She sat in her favorite chair that had conformed to her weight over the years.
In her lap was a start of a colorful throw, knitting needles, and shears.
Her honey color skin was slightly creased with tiny folds around her lips and neck.
The imagery of her once sleek body and beauty she deeply reflects.
Her curly snow-white hair rests on her curved shoulders.
She wished that she had not lived her entire life crippled to vanity.
Yet she would think that the fact is, that on the days and nights when love was a cold memory she was grateful for the memories that realistically were a safety net for her sanity,
They both were adrift on a calm sea of tedium.
Boredom breeds contempt and the closeness they once shared disappeared unobtrusively and conjointly with the years
All was left was the bitterness between them along with the tears.
copyright 2016 Looking At The Light At The Bottom of The Lake.
Nights of flying dream world,
who might chase a raucous laugh,
or seek indeed mirthful excitement,
the sort that has embroidered twists,
as is generally perceived by intention,
but epic hurdles formed in still frame,
city snores past midnight bell clang,
dare one ever risk a robust venture,
should I have said pursuit instead,
sleep is diversion in that steel crib,
that modern crib pillow we fostered,
an idiom that has it’s silken source,
on foot of rainbow studded home run,
as denizens of driven blissful sprint,
with that palette city life concocts,
waiting to arise from brainwave surge,
but toilers so content at last wonder,
can still find that extra zestful yen,
nocturnal misnamed down tool free time,
energizing hour filler may arouse,
around the ink drape walkways,
quite surrogate and surreptitious,
character one may mold from time,
spent as a regal rhombic chaser,
boundary scuppered plot by strolling fleet,
as creatively imagining might edge,
vast supply has penchant without dent,
zeitgeist flower of a fluorescent flag,
warning mask so deft but visible,
canopy laid beauteous black fringe,
alliance in shade infused etch front,
squeaky noising trickle eardrum muffin,
hear full dose of ripple muttering,
clued on obscurantist thin,
taut code evasive decipher ask,
float of urban mirror pool by pattern,
reflection, mirage, cocoon,
after midnight curtain draws,
to protracted claps evinced from,
squinting imp coterie on foot,
ricochet off Moroccan spice tint,
outside vivid haunt so frequented,
perchance, perforce, pertaining patois,
little seen scatter mice squeak,
analogy horizontal spurt funk,
if only these dart and dash clan,
midgets metaphorical so jubilant,
in sonic meddle near edge encounter,
it would be strictly beyond a dazzling cast,
from other daylight theater staunch queue,
when aiming for parallel experience,
performance nocturne wise deep art,
even rich fantasy has upper boundaries,
some grating gulley flake debris awash
By Sunset's Gloaming
At this lovely time of day when we put all cares away,
When the clouds display their pink and blue soft colors,
And birds are seen in silhouette as they return to roost,
That is the best time of the day, as Sol retires and bids
Adieu to purple mountains and sparkling silver seas
I think of you and the happiness we share as we sigh
At the Earth's glowing eye in our paradise together.
In your warm embrace with a look of love upon your face,
The sky afire with love's desire as the day is ending,
Our hearts shall sing their song of love as paradise lies sleeping.
Two as one in Heaven's grace by love's shore standing,
Your eyes, the azure of your soul, they are ever shining.
Ever in the gloaming of my heart your name does sing so softly.
Within our nights, in paradise, love alone can be our song.
You are ever my shining jewel in a brocade of stars,
my angel we shall live love's dance as we love by sunset's gloaming.
Surrounded by twinkling stars, enchanted by a full moon
Rising, I pledge my heart to you while dancing in the dark,
Cheek to cheek, as we feel the romantic beat of nature's
Nocturne calling, as our two souls take flight throughout
Our sacred night to soar to heights with fevered yearning.
The sweet bliss of your kiss wakes my passions, burning.
You whisper with amour words that I have longed to hear
This lovely summer night with scented Jasmine blooming.
In our Hawaii's paradise below moonlight gleaming,
You are in my arms before love's waters shining.
We find a new paradise within the light of your soul,
As now your lips meet mine in a kiss that is divine.
Joy we now shall find in love's endeavour shining,
As Jasmine scents the air we lose ourselves in passion.
We shall find love's peace and joy as our bodies entwining,
Now the time our desires fulfilled By Sunset's Gloaming.
7-8-17
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Sponsor Jan Allison
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Profile Changes
Marking time in pencil life is not a pair of pants or shirts worn out on elbows
when the chance comes to dance under the shorter rung of limbo peculiar to the
nocturne creature eye become the dancer arms all askimbo as eye move to
different tunes and related to the undercovered moon.
Rules in life have been ignored by everyone runes in place of names nammes in
place of given numbers life is replaced in the millennium with waste an
identification process my hair was never brown my hair has always been so
black but still they got it wrong and tagged me with a bogus wrong a crime for
which eye do not wish to pay it was not me that day but hair was brown the boy
was taller than the mee eye frown in concentrated glee as eye remember when
they opened up the dungeon and had to set mee free the Pepsi machined colas
were just diet the security guard pointed
Pistol loomed so ugly in my rain. They were making a Play at the Convention
OUTDOOR center the JESUS one for Easter.
Spam is spam when we spam a message in our email the provider thinks the
spam is the spammer is the sender. The message is the same. Careful of the
spammers recording them is costly licenses revoked eggs fried next to bacons
smoked. Coffee was not so given out as free no one lets the bum have all he
wants the pot would soon be gone the grounds can be refreshed and used
again when no one’s looking add the egg to spam. When famous people are
alive no one thinks to keep the articles they write no one covets signatures no
one places envelopes on ice. Keep the Charlax missives Keep the spam so nice
keep the kisses. Make the profile changes last forever make the promises come
true just like in the movies just like profiled viewed.
In the dream that came
in the deluge of fever
that plagued my
body last night,
I glimpsed what could be a future version of ourselves.
As if, perhaps, the heat from my brow
could briefly burn the cloudiness
from my nocturne and
psychic eye?
We sit around a large table in
a Japanese garden
drinking saki
and raising a toast
to both of our families.
Celebration is in the air
with the two of us as honored guests,
The ebony table groans with feast and flowers.
Your eyes meet mine and we smile with
the power of all the lovers of all the ages.
Flash forward, in traditional dream-style...
A small, blond and beautiful little boy
pumps his legs and arms across a green lawn
and dashes into my waiting arms,
freckled skin and shining hair damp
from being in the pool
where you have been teaching him
how to dive for pennies.
I pick him up and we twirl around.
Cognizant of the way his arm clutches my neck,
the way he smells, the weight of his body, the timber of his voice,
I am holding my son!
I look into his eyes and see the perfect balance
of yours and mine reflected back.
His eyes are shining as he proudly shows me
his treasure,
although he is ours to treasure now.
Another skip in time, substantial, though vague...
We sit together beneath a cottonwood
holding hands. Breath locked into a familiar cadence.
Our hands look much different now,
gnarled, like old tree branches.
Sunlight streams through the trees and our fingers
we sit quietly
breathing
only the birds intrude
on the peaceful solitude we have each managed
to find during our life together.
Fleeting dreams of a fevered mind,
Perhaps mean nothing
but perhaps I may have
spanned the whole of my life
in one sweat-drenched
night.
Under the endless sky, where the wind whispers ancestral secrets,
Engines spin, iron butterflies in their primal dance,
The muted thunder of wheels, an echo of the earth's hearts beating in unison,
And the rain, a master sculptor, shapes stone and brick walls into dreamlike bas-reliefs.
Deserted roads, bordered by ancient oaks, guardians of secrets,
Their branches, tense bows in invisible duels,
Resounding like the crackle of bamboo in the wind, in a dance with fear,
Dryads, mistresses of the sky, weave from azure and amethyst a tapestry of mystery.
Streams of light, strands of wisteria glowing in the nocturne,
Sway in the silver breeze, caressing the leaves in a lullaby,
Their song, a poetry of iridescent shades,
Tales of fire and opal, calling souls back to the sanctuary of ancestral warmth.
From the heights, angelic trills pour forth, silfic light undulates,
Rosary corals, incense in golden verses, vibrate in hymns reverberating at dusk,
Hallelujah in whisper, doves with crystalline gazes,
Rise on wings of dreams, penetrating the silence with their ethereal song.
The ocean cries from the unseen abyss, a voice carrying the essence of hidden worlds,
The earth and wind, in solemn accord, narrate their cosmic story,
In strong cries and sighs, the dialogue of the sea with its eternal admirers,
Nature displays its splendor in a language of its infinite majesty.
The breath of dawn becomes fog, the snow transforms into tears of spring,
The rain, like a cloak of purity, dresses the earth in white porcelain,
Before the thaw, at the dawn of a new era, the cold skin of nature lies in wait,
A sacred distance, where my hand meets the purity of the storm, in a mystical embrace.
// This is my tribute to the many blessings that music brings to our
lives. I know many of you share this enthusiasm and gratitude. //
Appreciating an amazing artform: allegro, andante, or adagio -
Bach, Beethoven, Brahms: beautiful berceuse, ballad, and bolero
Classical concertos and Christmas chorales crescendo concordantly
Dancers delight to dizzying drums and delectable dynamics
Ensemble eloquently emotes euphonic etudes and elegies
Flautist fluttertongues flute in frenzied fantasia or fantastic fugue
Guitar gallivants through gavotte, graced by glockenspiel glissandos
Heavenly hymns, happily harmonized, hearkening hearty hallelujahs
Improvising instruments inspiring in impromptu inventions,
Jovial jazz juxtaposition of jubilant, jamming jitterbugs
Kalimba keeps count as keyboardist kinetically caresses keys
Love song lullabys - lilting, legato lines of luxuriant, longing lyrics
Minuet melodies and madrigals marking mellifluous motifs
Nutcracker's necklace of nourishing notes: a nighttime nocturne
Orchestra's opulent overture opus, oratorio's operatic octet
Pianist plays presto pianissimo pitches in pulsing pizzicato perfection
Quartets and quintets on a quest for quality quiescent quarter notes
Romantic rhapsody rhythms resonate as rock 'n roll reverberates
Symphonies and sonatas send spine shivers, saxophone solos soar
Tenor troubadours tremolo in tempo as trumpet thrills with trills
Utopia of unassuming ukuleles unwinding in unison
Voluptuous violin vibrato, virtuoso vocalist, vivace vintage vibraphone
Well-tempered woodwinds wield wonderful waltzes worth whistling
Xylophone eXudes eXcitement in eXquisite eXtemporaneity
Yearning for youthfulness, you yodel "Yesterday"
Zesty zither anyone?
Oh of Isis love lament
Raging against Ra’s morning light
Where could the time have went
Racing through the desert night
And by the gods of Karnak
We bow to let their power in
And make a solemn promise
To return time and time again
Now to meet my princess
On the banks of the Nile
To embrace forever more
Never to lose my lovers smile
Blessed by the gods
Granted and gifted light
On our lips a promise
And then we rush into the night
Of gay Paris’s happenings
Oui, oui I do recall
That covered balcony
That overlooked it all
The torrid love affair
In the heat of passion true
An ancient promise kept
Memories along the rue
And then I met my lover
Well down by the shore
On the banks of the Seine
We embraced each other once more
Granted and gifted light
Our passions wildly burn
And once again my love
We submit to the nocturne
Flores De la Noche
How they do intoxicate
As I stand so anxiously
Aside a Spanish lake
And then my lover’s face
Graced with “luce a lun”
Our vows reaffirmed
And not a moment too soon
For there on the banks
Of the lake Asturias
The strength of our promise
Is there to carry us
And then as before
We’re graced and gifted light
In the favor of our Father
We go once again into the night
And here we stand today
Reunited yet again
Same love and same heart
Only under a different skin
And on a beach Pacific
From a distance I see my love
And I give thanks and praise
To the mighty One above
Meeting brings us round again
To fulfill our ancient ties
This I knew the very moment
That I gazed into your eyes
For once again the gods
Have granted and gifted light
And our promise afresh fulfilled
We go perpetually into the night
Here the Bluejay***
Here! Here! …These tall,
Spindly stalks, although sweetly
JGreen, with their crowns bobbing
In the touches of air…the Cosmos
Flowers wait…
For their rippling nocturne to begin,
To sound forth the garden dances
…Here
To bloom, a delicious pink…or, too,
Their petals in a star’s white circling
The precious points of pollen
— Ready for their flights on the air —
To be taken off…by weather’s
Wonders to re-seed…
Here! Here now, see
The flying blues…
The spliced sky …those jays,
Regal-hued and shrieking,
Here! Here am I!
As one sweeps down through
The hazy-yellow air, landing
Precisely there on the deck rail,
Bowing to seat his belly on
The length of pine. Then, he opens
Out his wings…to each side, flat
Upon the wood…those feathers…
Beauty spread, vulnerably, sunning
With eyes closed, beak raised up
To the sky, in peace, captain of
His space…in those moments
Pausing for some pleasure, it seems,
….To so amaze! For, truly,
I’d never imagined that a life of
The sky would wish for grounding
To stop to sun, especially one of
The anxious jays…shouting
Here! Here am I! This spot is mine!
Until later, with a fluttering leap, he
Streaks the white-puffed, blue sky
With his white-marked and specked
Blue-feathered form…That sunning
Jay’s bliss in rest was captured
By a human’s eyes. Mine! Here!
…This lasting memory
Of summer…these turning pages
Of golden air and a jay laying out
His wings, so gently down,
The same way as butterflies do
…for a time in nature, the exquisite
Sensing of motion to place…
To pause…Here
By the blooming cosmos.
…………………
——————————————————————————
(C) sally young Eslinger 6/2021
Thanks be to God