Long November Poems
Long November Poems. Below are the most popular long November by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long November poems by poem length and keyword.
Morning aloneness.
Dawn imparts prized magic.
Next, the star blinks and vanishes.
The Moon and Sun share the same sky.
Autumn trees reveal their souls.
was interred under a leafy canopy.
Hazy memories of the past persist.
Striking was impossible, yet I bore it.
within a person’s heart.
The mind reflects a rocky promontory.
where spaces collided within the body,
Pulling their last breath, they expired
They acquire permission to fly.
The body, mind, and soul are all bound.
a while ago I grasped this.
The world has got its last odds of fading.
Pedestals are left above the hazes.
A cold bite encounters snow and frost.
Yet, I am jumping out of this plane.
for I, who soared to towering heights
Will I deliver you back to Earth?
Kisses melt snow and frost.
Lever your heart for love and empathy.
Written: November 19, 2022
The splayed light of an obliging red sunset
lays upon the darkening meadow
of windswept grass
Slow-moving fingers in a visible dance
wrap in quiet space
when moonlight, silhouettes our hands
as they bond
A falling star etches the night sky
burning its canvas like a struck match
vanishing as quickly as it came
The rush of life abates to a small distance
so we can free ourselves from outgrown nests
to float like doves on tender breezes
until we can fly when love is found
to lift the subtle wings of our soul
7/14/19
11/18/19 contest Writing Challenge 2, November
A Poem Meaningful
sponsor Dear Heart-Wiishkobi Ode
There comes a time when death greets life,
Embrace this rhyme to forfeit strife,
Death swings new chimes to fling new jive.
So many years have brought new cares,
The dead my dear live a new flair,
Attend woes here in sad affairs.
My father's gone away to rest,
My mother yawned to face death's zest,
Another morn to live our best.
July sparks notes of fond embrace,
November totes a rainy face,
March has a vote to hurl hot trace.
In between times of abrupt change,
The awkward rhymes can sound so strange,
Sad dirge seek mime in vocal range.
July speaks well for I find spring,
June once did spell a sad ending,
November tells a stormy fling.
Alas! What's lost cannot be found,
Time wears a cost in moving grounds,
To win the toss, swirl round and round.
Move with the times that run away,
Spill cheery rhymes before sad sway,
Soon fading chimes must stop to slay.
The moments here upon stray winds,
Live precious spheres, notes in-between,
Then leave sans fear the course unseen.
Conceive your wits in tints and shades,
Believe each bit what feelings trade,
Achieve fond fit that zest now grades.
Charm wears a poise that speaks so light,
Cheer knows a voice as esteem sights,
Play makes a choice in sensuous flight.
Be unafraid, wear euphoria,
See beyond dread, pandemonia,
Let joy now braid sure hysteria.
No matter how the world instructs,
Calm truth endows what change constructs,
Right here and now, all things destruct.
Go on your way to live your best,
Give all to play in steadfast quest,
And then someday, death holds the rest.
Look for your joy that hides quite sad,
Be kind with ploys that some deem mad,
Play with fond toys that make you glad.
Yes do your best to question each,
For fate binds quest to stretch your reach,
For time must test to offer peach.
Leon Enriquez
18 November 2014
Singapore
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
She became a leaf on a tree, a speck of dust, a limb still attached
shining like the sun she was the light that splayed upon nature's hour
but when the shadows came, she wrote her thoughts on a binder,
and became an evening cornflower.
Hungering by the river's edge she kept her secrets inside her diary
as she glided with imaginative desire on a silver lake of dreams
A permanent work of art inked and set aside, her words
a filament of nature's calligraphy.
Each pocket of earth described each single fern narrated,
by the apex of her linguistic, morphemes.
As the hourglass of time sifted finely down her filtered mind,
sweet poetry was born, germinated and seeded.
Life grows naturedly so does poetry when the heart is opened
she became part of the all-inclusive in this sweet haven,
where the everything and the always can only be described,
by a writer's pen and pluck.
November 24, 2022
Sponsor Sotto Poet
Contest Name Poetry is a life-cherishing force Contest
She walks slowly down the street bent over her walker,
Not looking at the people speeding past her so fast;
It's windy and cold and her legs are swollen and hurt,
Is there no one in this world who cares?
The people see her but pretend to not notice the need,
The frayed coat, the out dated style, the gray hair;
They are busy people on their way to somewhere,
No time for the poor, the elderly, the needy?
But O, think twice, it's another day for you and me,
In Paradise, think twice for youth is but a moment;
For each person in this Paradise will become the frail,
Think twice, O think twice, think twice!
The lined faces, paper skin, the lost of energy and spirit,
This is the reality of Paradise, of life, so think twice;
Life can change in a split second, the once secure,
Can become the beggar on the corner, think twice!
__________________________________
November 7, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Oh, Think Twice
Copyright Protected, ID 11-517-867-07
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Featured poem April 27, 2014
Tears oozed down my pale cheeks
As I read the unknown woman’s
last mystic diary entry:
The acute pain lingers in agony:
Remembering the smooth skin of his face.
My tormented heart is empty.
I can still feel the velvety touch
As my fingers run down the contours
Of his soft skinned nape,
tickling him on the sides of his ribs:
Did I hear him giggle and gurgle?
Momentary ecstasy....then painful silence!
Time has no pity.
For my offspring is no more.
Kissing him, I bid him good night
and the sun has never risen ever since!
Time stopped.
Dust to dust and I am now
In an empty place,
An estrangement from the world,
A lost soul miserably trying
But failing not to despair.
I cannot weep but forlorn I sweat.
The sun sets in a blaze of fire,
The time for a hug dissipated.
Alas no such fire in me.
A cold soul wondering why,
Hoping it will survive
Many other empty sleepless nights.
Why can’t time stop?
Am I cruel to read this sad entry?
What right have I to publish that
which was evidently a private confession?
Tears, unrestrained, oozed down my cheeks.
8 November 2021
Placed 1
Subject 5: Time
Enter the '''T'' Contest, New or Old' Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
It's all about Me
Whatever bad you think they say about you,
can't it be people are being misconstrued ?
Your friends stood by in every thin and blue,
believe me hurting they never intended to do.
Sensitivity and emotions in you are a peak high,
even without medication soon will tranquillise,
Having caring and extremely emotive attitude,
Why not think positive, don't ever seclude ?
Depression is only one's subjective feel,
One of the weak spokes of life's wheel,
Travel along and go round and round,
Giggling with cheerful colours and voices around.
Creative with wit you have a perfect paint,
Fascination and magic of your words will never faint,
Catie my true friend if you could trust me,
Believe in Him and see sorrows of past flee !
Written November 17th, 2014
For contest ' It's all about me' by Catie Lindsey
Awarded 1st place
Diminished by age, a weathered existence limps
Crutching dimmed vision and impaired limbs,
Much wiser that before, it speaks wisdom words
Entertaining grandkids in stories that enlighten,
Wishing the time to destiny would stop rushing
Reminiscing adoringly in yesteryears’ springs
As exuberance of yore in travails of life recedes,
Recalling seasons pristine, ravishing, blossoming
When youth ruled meadows of blazing revelry,
Reckoning lately though, how summer parches lilies
And winter freezes perishing autumnal leaves,
Unsure whether sunlit-dawn tomorrow brings,
If life’s graying themes can still invoke dreams~
As blunt reality confronts passions embellished.
Yet, life emulates pride of battered old oak tree
Mangled and broken, withering in gusty winds
But, standing steadfastly aiming for centuries
Rejoicing birds frolicking, concert of hatchlings,
And it too sways merrily ignoring bleak warnings
Beckoning alluringly reluctant, fading feelings
To tango in ballroom of life for yet one more spin,
Conjuring ancient images of renaissance in Italy~
The Colosseum, statues, galleries full of paintings
Pulsating forever, beyond bounds of mortality
Weathered, yet standing, as battered old oak tree
And aged-existence that defiantly keeps ticking.
November 24, 2021
Placed 2nd: “W” New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Weathered
So you want more nice things!
Will your life have more meaning?
When you have more stuff, is it ever enough?
Don't you know that there's more,
to life, than keeping score,
of who has more things,
what joy does that bring?
Our days are numbered,
don't just fill them with slumber.
And just having fun,
doesn't mean that you've won.
Your life should have meaning,
a purpose in being.
Doing all these things is,
like trying to catch the wind.
song
Wind catchers don't know
which way to go.
Wind catchers don't find,
true peace of mind.
Wind catchers can't see,
the truth that sets them free.
Wind catchers climb ladders,
but, does their life matter?
Wind catchers die with more,
but, who's keeping score?
A simple life is the best!
John Derek Hamilton Feb 2, 2013 revised November 18, 2015
Have seen an utopian lane, amidst the thicket, latent In the abode of the clouds, in the lap of the tranquil wilderness, far far away from the mundane mist!
A wheezing sparsely inhabited hamlet, Khonoma, a centuries- old settlement, so green, so serene!
Its' pristine unsullied views, lush wilderness, verdant bushes, aromatic wild blooms, resplendent orchids, rippling rills, are untouched and sacred!
The Angami tribes, the thorpes' dwellers lead an uncustomary simple life, crammed with ancient, timeless traditions and practices, with nature's absolute accord!
The unique panaromic cultivation practice, terrace farming, sprawling on the slopes makes the very sight elating!
Look, the remote richest biodiversity region is twirling with the endemic scented native flora and fauna, the boscage are cramming with untamed wild colourful fruits!
The revered cultural bird, the grey-billed Tragpon, is intoning from the bushes, making the milieu frolic!
Myriads of colourful birds are migrating to nestle in the sacred bushes of the mystic rills!
The pellucid drops from the misty mesas of nearby cascades are playing with the colourful pebbles!
Far from the pandemic, the cherubic hilly terrain is bustling with cerulean rills, shrouded by tropical rain forests and stepped paddy fields!
How finite are the rustic folks' wants and needs, the primitive shanties to dwell, the crystal cascades to quench, the crops of the golden fields to feed the mouths, the vibrant fiestas with nature's changing seasons to celebrate!
A paragon of men and nature in absolute harmony, is lying placidly, the transcendental picturesque tableland, Khonoma, the wheezing green hamlet, an utopia untrodden to bless the naive natives of the far flung highland!
" Sometimes in quest of no man's Utopia, we may miss the existing unleashed Utopia in proximity, yet untrodden " Quote by poet
November 11th 2021
Contest: " U" contest, New Poems Only
Sponsored by: Constane La France