Long Novas Poems
Long Novas Poems. Below are the most popular long Novas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Novas poems by poem length and keyword.
Behold, I saw her auburn hair
The shadows could not murmur there
And like a touch of candle light
It burned against an ivory white;
Her skin was pale and like the moon
Which hangs, an orb in phantom air,
Men cannot touch but only swoon
Like stars do gaze and eyes despair;
But she, O! she was nature’s best
No Grecian Urn Nor Nymphan face protest.
Behold, I saw her sultry smile
Like sunsets sometimes smile
No passion sweeter than is brief
Like stardrops simmer in the sea;
It lingered for a longer while
Like heaven on horizon’s mile
When all the world is turned and there
Comes twilight, furtive, bare;
But she, O! she can none compare
Not twilight, nor its outer airs.
Behold, I saw her candid eyes
Such eyes no more than stars can lie
No dismal strains of slivered light
Her glance then sets the world aright;
As thus the world on course is turned
Each star in destiny thusly burned
Till lastly gleaming nova bright
Like novas are those candid eyes;
Thus she, O! she has eyes like stars
Their gleams now haunt my captive heart.
Behold! I saw her furtive lips
If lips are furtive lest when kissed
But kisses cannot measure there
Nor time immortal beauty there;
Like ribbons in the blushing sun
Or roses when the dawn is done
When comes the pink of daylight hours
And hearts are captive to her powers
Thus she, O! she so gently makes
With lips more subtle graceful ways.
Duas asas
Tudo tem duas asas:
uma para levar
o que quer que seja
de pessoas
até sonhos conosco,
e outra que não leva nada.
Se quer levar
De sonhos
Até pessoas
- levar alguém
“na asa’ você
cuide de saber
qual a “asa boa”.
Não chames
a ti
levando a mão
à asa errada.
Use sempre a asa boa,
Use a asa boa
ela vai agarra à tua mão!
Seja firme em seus objetivos,
flexível em suas táticas.
Há momentos que exigem repetição e perseverança;
e há momentos que exigem novas formas de pensar e fazer.
O desafio é saber
um do outro.
O desafio é saber
Qual o momento.
Qual a asa boa.
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history
Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places
Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring
Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration
Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter
Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter
Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
Submitted 21 Aug. 2016
FIRE the Immortal
Fire the Immortal—primordial breath,
Kindled in chaos, a twin flame of death.
Born in the forge where the cosmos ignites,
It dances through nebulae, seeding the night.
With tongues of plasma and fusion-fed might,
It devours the dark, gives birth to the light.
Fueling the stars in their hydrogen blaze,
A crucible shaping the eons and days.
It dines upon carbon, on oil, on trees,
Unlocking their essence in alchemical ease.
Combustion—a whisper of matter undone,
Entropy's waltz beneath moonlight and sun.
In crackling hymnals it chants to the spheres,
Echoes of supernovae ring in our ears.
A sacred convulsion, a quantum ballet,
A flare in the silence where atoms decay.
It moves like a spirit through vacuum and void,
A relic of stars long burned and destroyed.
From the heart of a candle to Betelgeuse’s core,
It wanders forever—then burns all the more.
You may quench the blaze in a hearth or a storm,
But the ghost in the embers reforms and reforms.
For trapped in the ashes are secrets of suns,
And in every flicker, the universe runs.
In the fusion of atoms, in stellar descent,
In novas and firestorms, it finds its lament.
A force that remembers the Big Bang's first cry—
Still roaring in silence where galaxies lie.
So honor its wisdom, its wrath and its grace,
This elemental phantom that time can't erase.
Fire is not only destruction or birth—
It is stardust incarnate, the lifeblood of Earth.
Immortal it lingers, from cradle to tomb—
A guardian of cosmos, in heat, flame, and plume.
And even when silence extinguishes breath,
Fire remains—older than death.
I dwell in a high-rise apartment dwelling
That faces a gigantic air travel bureau building.
A bureau building with a mega mirrorred front,
thus its frontage a gigantic jumbo-sized mirror.
In the twilight hours of violet dusk or dawn,
the entire huge apartment flats
reflected on its mirrorred walls.
One can see the reflections
of the whole neighbourhood
All the faces peeping in from their windows
All the people hanging around
on their balconies and terrace
And if doors are left ajar
whatever is going on inside
their flats reflected indiscriminately
on the travel agency's massive mirrors as well!
It is quite a sight to see
esp for idle peeking, prying eyes.
Folks thus have to be conscientious
about their doings in full view...
But at midnight if you chance to wake up,
the giant mirrors reflect a spectacular sight!
The moon on a moonlit night
or starry heavens as
diamond specks of light!
Thus a huge patch of heaven
itself reflected upon it
Novas, supernovas, nebulas,
ooh, the shooting stars in God's Galaxy
all reflected magnificiently
upon the mirrorred walls!!
Fine shine, O' giant mirror, mirror
literally on the wall
But I'd rather you don't reflect
my unveiled form at all.
For I prefer being the invisible
belle of the hall....
Why, in the land of earthquakes,
Must we suffer disregard
As pale as lightning?
In a place designed to mingle,
Not connect,
I am a single band of light
Afraid of fading
Lest I meet the wet
Of human contact.
Were I to wane
As ebbing tides
Would I be any less deserving
Of the care
One feels for oceans?
Were I an edifice of stone
Would I be any less a symbol
Of the awe one has for mountains?
An octopus may encompass
All it sees within its grasp
But I am less predator than person,
Not bereft of longing and able
To take all I see to places
Of the mind only wishes can imagine.
Why, in the land of mayhem,
Must I battle with the sky
For your attention?
Were I a star in my demise
Would you mourn me
As you would a constellation?
See the flicker of my flame
For it beams as hot
As novas when they bloom and burn.
In the dismal and dreary dusk,
I experience horrific hallucinations,
Of cracks in the sublime skies.
Celestial conflicts commence
Without a hint or reason.
Comets collide, stars flare
In nasty noxious Novas.
Quakes seem to shatter the peace
Of the vast stretch of space.
Whilst we on Earth envision
The fall of a multitude of meteors.
Catastrophic clouds form overhead,
Effectively hiding the brutal battles galore.
Then the rain begins to fall and I awake.
Soon the cumulonimbus clouds disperse
And the silvery stars appear in full formation.
Thank God, ‘tis only a nasty nightmare.
Dim this Earth, shade its curvature of light,
Stay its skyward thrust of fluorescent gold,
Usurping galaxies’ nocturnal right.
From shore to sequined shore which sparks enfold,
And avenues where man-made novas blaze,
Veil lands that are in seas of glimmers clothed.
Tar the night canvas for those tireless rays,
That all across the cosmic time zones fly,
To catch their breath above our stranded race.
Invite these distant fires to crust the sky,
And sprinkle their embers on shadowed turf,
Where lovers vow or tell a breathless lie.
Part neon clouds above our lonely berth,
To let our eyes with constellations brim,
So wonder may soar despite wonders’ dearth,
And air may glow with a forgotten hymn,
For an evening when this wide Earth is dimmed.
Imagine, for this night, you are the queen of Fairy Tale land.
I, too, am a prince, from Make-Believe kingdom.
From beyond our cocooned proximity,
the night shimmers in and thickens to a silken thread of moonlight
that the crone will soon spindle into her never-ending story
of billion constellations, both seen and unseen
by naked, desperate novas.
We, entwined, like the roots under a rabid rainforest,
pale as innocence, battering feverishly against the stones for ever afters,
seize Avalon, and reject Camelot.
The canopy of fireflies synchronises in raw euphoria,
a rebel Excalibur.
The wind matures around us.
Tomorrow may be an inevitable notion,
but my queen of Fairy Tale land,
my sword, shield, bow, toothbrush, unicorn,
a worn-out copy of The Arabian Nights,
all lay bare before your lion throne.
This world was once a crevice between fire and ice.
Fire and ice run in our veins,
from me to you and back into the realm of drunken fairies,
where the bumblebee heart of the day
is yet to ignite the pomegranate sky.
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Date: 17 / 02 / 2016
Fantasy 2-22-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Parade
At midnight dawn my mind escapes parting the stars
Making my way to a summerland torchlight parade
Where grand marshals of zebra fish
Lead the festival from fiery snow drifts of spun clouds
Making way for tunes and flourishes of the flugel zoots
Dressed in braided gold, sounds of silver reeds giggling om-pahs,
Followed by perfect lines of elephins holding hot air hippos
Rows and rows of dolphettes ride on one horned steads
As whirling woodles swish their skirts to drumline mango tangos
From silver floats rosemaids royal wave to gaping galaxies
As crickethoppers dance the wooly wozzle by the Doodle Loos!
And porpi pass in waves of burnished summersaults
Comet twirlers shout “Hooray!” and clap their stony hands,
Snarfish teeter on the invisible between starstruck novas
Then tap dance in steps of dipsy doodles for eleven moons
Red giants snoozle riding quadra pogo stickes
And throw tickertape confetti – sounding the curly noodles curfew –
Remembering how to hold the magic as this homecoming parade ends
Tap dancing into the horizon's shadow as this long day’s night passes by -
And masquerades of new moons wane in tipsy oodles!