Long Odyssey Poems
Long Odyssey Poems. Below are the most popular long Odyssey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Odyssey poems by poem length and keyword.
Flight of the Rose
Soft petals of pale pink rose,
Each engraved in eulogy,
Rise on the white wings of dawn,
Take flight over calm waters
Lapping at the line
Dividing land’s end and endless sea,
To shoulder tears
In intervals of benediction’s breath
Reflections of a full bloom –
Courageous warrior and woman -
In final surrender
To the invading army that overwhelms
A single soul in the dark calyx of fading night
Rose, alone with only shallow breaths
To caress her hand
To prepare for her last flight.
Sea scented morning
Gives wings requiem
To chant the sojourn’s odyssey,
A solo elegy sung
By one voice as the four winds
Gather four seas
And fleeting four seasons
Into resurrection past the good fight.
6-16-22
Contest: Flight 2
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Based on a true story told to me by a hospice nurse friend who tended a dying woman, alone. She was so touched in grieving she went to the ocean and scattered rose petals in the woman’s memory – her final flight into Heaven’s caress.
On realms hidden within the folds of the celestial map, a murmur of light is woven,
And among the sacred, within an inner world, resounds the divine call.
Your values, ancient bastions within the whirlpool of the ages, raise them as standards,
Be the echo among souls, in their endless dance, parallel and burning.
On the vast stage of the universe, where each soul seeks its match in the heavy scale,
Align with the cosmic symphony, where each note finds its answer in another star.
Say "no" to the glass beads that do not reflect your light, that do not know your worth at sea,
So that, through a predestined fate, the soulmate will appear, unknown when or from where.
Know the allegory of the path, one that intertwines in the chords of hearts that vibrate mutedly,
Embody your authentic virtue, like the pendulum of the sphere seeking its purpose in the divine odyssey.
And refuse to walk the paths not destined for you, burning illusions in deception,
Just so, on a day of wonder, your soulmate will appear, a golden thread in the fabric of life, in a respite of love.
In the vast field of existence, where each blade of grass bows before the wind carrying the tale,
In unscripted times, your values weave their grandeur into a tapestry awaiting to be your life.
Deviating from the trials of the world, aim for that union which is predestined in the murmur of the horizon,
And find in the silence between heartbeats, the melody that has been prepared to emerge for you and your match.
Now, walk down the alley of dreams, armed with the hope that your values will guide you,
Through the countless dimensions of reality, where destiny plays its piece, enveloped in its magic.
Refuse what is ephemeral, what does not reflect the depth and mastery of your soul,
And open your arms to that someone, who in harmony with you, will complete the odyssey of life with symphony.
Dreamscape
Only in a dream can you come and share this dream.
I am in it, and you are here too.
Oneness.
In this sacred space where time ends,
We exist only in inner light.
As we jump into this atmosphere, we find
deep, alien oceans of parallel intimacy.
Vanishing by one step,
In closeness, we take off.
We fly, dreaming of a World 2.0,
consciously interconnecting on a deeper level.
Here in our space station: one plus one.
Never-ending while we dream,
Stars are all around us.
Mirrorality-no boundaries here.
Alone, together.
You are orbiting my universal odyssey
In this digital nomad’s journey,
taking us on an unforgettable moment that glides.
We have left the shores of the physical,
A thousand light-years from yesterday
We once knew.
In this world 2.0, our love is the code,
Written in the stars, gliding forever.
In the odyssey of days that mercilessly run like grains of sand,
An unseen battle is foretold that we shall wage in the shadow.
The war within our hearts, a citadel besieged by falling stars,
Where every collapse exacts from the spirit a tribute, a drop of molten gold.
Beneath the vault, the cosmic architect with thoughts of crystal,
Arranges untouched paradises, but our hands prefer to dawdle in the hourglass,
Battling with the hope that deep down longs to burst into hyacinths,
Teach us, O experience, to offer instead of an army, a choir of chosen voice.
The spell of fears is the garment we don, fling it through the wind!
Even titans carved in stone feel the shiver of lurking fears.
Each lemon seed become a tree, the hope that raises its branches to hanging gardens,
Where the seed of goodness rises to the heavens, to bind remnants of fairies in tender whispers.
Refuse yourself, O being, to lay treaties of war upon paper,
When in your palms you might hold the core of reconciliation, the sketch of a beginning.
Behold how illusions take root in your eyes, that gilded in the sun dance vividly,
Horizons drawn in skies, where stretches a greenhouse of blossoming souls, a chord of love.
It's the battlefield and the sacred hearth, a struggle of good against the very self,
Shields of silver carved in seafoam, inlaid with pearls of love.
Pawns of spirit in the cosmic game, where the queen is compassion,
And the king, a generous spirit, takes his throne in the vastness of the universe, bearer of untamed light.
Thus, with each turn of fate, in the weave of time, we embroider new destinies,
Where the spell of fear is undone, and in the chaos of the night grow fields of stars,
Thousands of lanterns, guiding man's steps to the fountains of ageless love.
In this magical tableau, we take the most sacred war, to be human, and melt it under rays of peace in guitar strings' song.
The Gargoyle Yawns
The Fogwalker searches for clues in the moist darkness of early morning. The mist feels it's way through empty alleys and vacant lots.
Cautious footsteps crackle from the gravel pathway lined with broken glass and dry leaves, evidence the Autumn Equinox has smothered the last breath of summer.
Gangways between decaying brick buildings echo from dogs sounding an alarm with menacing Baskerville howls and barks.
A garden of flickering street lights blossom under the black canopy of darkness. These twilight flowers reach for a lazy moon with the dim enthusiasm of jaundice fluorescence.
The Diogenestic odyssey by the nocturnal straggler is an exercise clothed in failure. Honesty dressed in shabby clothes is disguised as a fictitious conviction. This quality that measures the value of character is a virtue that few possess and is rarely practiced.
Who does this best policy of honesty benefit? Is it the one divulging the truth or the recipient of honesty? The best part of this said truth are the lies.
Standing at the edge of night peering over the ledge into dawn the Gargoyle yawns.
I drown myself in reverie and retrospection,
when on calm tranquil mornings,
chirping birds entertain my eager senses,
and flowers serenade me away with their ambrosial fragrance...
My mind gets fully occupied with the mysteries of the universe,
which I will never be able to comprehend!
Birds twitter gleefully to each other,
squirrels scurry in their grey coats,
The world moves slowly, in a lulling pace.
clouds float languidly in the azure sky,
sailboats cruising on the emerald ocean,
anchor not in sight!
Nature in eternity - blissful, picturesque, serene!
I wonder about the eventual truths in life...This is a journey to unfamiliar, uncertain...in ultimate scheme of things, we are all pawns in the chessboard of an unknown skilled magician, who smiles at our arrogance, blesses all his children unaware of the profound truth of life and Death!
We all are on our odyssey…Only at a temporary harbour we pause,
Steer through blissful moments,
Sorrows and misery,
Heartbreak and despair,
We smile, we bleed, we mourn!
We feel elation in the tangerine trifles of a voyage...
The journey makes the difference in a life well-lived,
Not the desired end!
2. "When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives."
Lauren Eden
shadows lurk from the painful past tempting to look back
there were struggles which only made stronger and stronger
no sustenance on silver platter to relish from
lacked shiny lustre on day-to-day wearables
but mysteriously the lacking added strength to
feelings of warrior no defeat without striving
for the top no giving up without achieving goal
shadows reminded adversaries lost in battle
no regret for a journey with ups and downs
ultimate win wiped out tumultuous odyssey
I feared to reach for the ambrosial drift
of ambergris floating
through turquoise tides
beneath the rising sun ~
reluctant to relish the resilience
of nascent nova,
as if every ray
of light held
blackness of uncertainties,
yet I’ve learned to
heal beneath the searing
heat of hypocrisy ~
I glow on, no longer obscured
by their oblivious observation
of my orbit,
for I am a morning star
unceasingly sparkling
across dusky horizons,
loving, living ~ breathing,
dreaming,
in love
with the calm
of crystal-clear currents,
and the crescendo
of poetic collisions,
for this heart unlocks gateways
to the abyss of sea-salt silence,
allowing dawn to caress
the corners of my suppressed fears ~
as the eclipsed cannot
dim the pulse of painted patience
with butterfly strokes…
I am a windward wanderer
stirring among
life’s whimsical waves,
as the sky spills
caramel clusters
over celestial cerulean,
and my soul unfurls
like an odyssey
kissed by the divine flame,
scripting
deep warm hues of blue ~
colors of fate,
only you and I can reveal,
for we are both
brushed with oil,
lost in the
serene palette of siren secrets…
and life ~
O soul feeler,
this existence is a sail
we voyage through
sighing stillness
and soaring sapphires
cradling simple blessings
that nature gifts us
wrapped in unwavering faith ~
Written: April 25, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
1st place contest winner
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young souls stalked by predators at night,
They aim to inflict chaos upon an elfin sight.
They don garments of gentle compassion,
And tend a hand to mountebank passion.
Lacking inspiration, youth may falter,
Without wisdom may stumble and halter.
Who desires apodictic whole annihilation?
Reach a furry hand to who lurk destination.
We are friends; disregard your dad.
He is just an elderly man without a tad.
It's not dangerous, to be jubilant.
Moving in gloom—deceit is exuberant.
Such a story may be found in prophecy.
What the devil's grasp seeks an odyssey,
A seductive lure for the wayward soul.
A web of lies spun by its vision control.
Yet, it is a hollowed oath of the heart.
Preventing villain from tearing it apart.
A radiant cheek is a display of delight.
Within a withered apple—a rotten bite.
Avoid yielding to evil lure craft.
And never let gloom drain your raft.
Support truth and path of morality.
Beware of evil deceit and brutality.
In the abyss, evil spins a web of deceit
Yet virtuous spirit will never retreat.
Remain faithful to the sacred source.
Let evil hide—thwarted in course.
Truism will ultimately prevail.
Then, a grasp of evil will avidly fail.
Stand firm—let your spirit shine bright.
Stroll along the righteous path light.
On an evil field, falsehood may thrive.
Yet virtuous spirits will forever strive.
Don't yield to nagging fears of night.
May winding roads never lead to blight.
Embrace the gentle touch of the divine.
Proceed onward with unwavering shine.
Utterly reckoning goodness will prevail.
With strength evil loss is the trail.
Remain steadfast, and let your soul soar.
Goodness and light, unlock every door.
An evil smile may be beguiling and sly.
With a pure heart, I never drove awry.
The Ancient Odyssey of clubs to bombs
from red ochre handprints on cave walls
to the destroyer of worlds
is a long-traveled road with the wormy flesh of war
and blood-soaked fields
where wailing tears of Mothers fall endlessly upon the Earth
as footprints vanish from battlegrounds over and over
and barriers are built to hide behind
leaving silent confusion standing as sentinels
guarding the internal workings of the soul
that clamor in times of plenty
and hide in times of hate
locked in the mortal human shell
pacing back and forth in prisons of their fears
finding man has not changed
trapped by bridled thinking from the past
frightened by new worlds, new faces
whose dreams become nightmares
trampled on by those who've become mummified flesh
dressed in cloth ranting in unison
believing in things that exist only in their minds
like ghostly shadowed imagined images
as they travel through the portal of time
creating new battlefields, where flies and crows feast
on the dead
before their names are etched in stone
covered over a thousand times by new fields, new stones
in a continuous thread
from red ochre hands to the destroyer of worlds