Long Pastels Poems
Long Pastels Poems. Below are the most popular long Pastels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pastels poems by poem length and keyword.
By a loch she stands in a hidden Highland Glen
Absorbing the view as she marvels at the Ben
This granite of old with many stories to tell
Of her Clansman's past in the place that they dwell
Mountain sides of scree with carpets of heather
Look good at all times no matter the weather
Proud Stags roam in royalty pose
Whilst Golden Eagles soar on breathless air flows
Waterfalls thunder as they crash to the rocks
Sheep roam the hillsides in grazing flocks
Trout break the surface of translucent waters so pure
Legend has said, that it can indeed cure
The colours of the sunsets leave you totally in awe
Even the sunrises make the bravest Clansmen thaw
Remarkable pastels of orange, reds and blues
Bring a tear and a smile, does this most beautiful hue
By a loch she stands in a hidden Highland Glen
In this most wonderful place, Scotland's her gem
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-2.php
Give me a thoughtful image
That I can reveal in black and white,
Or with tints and shades of colors
Using pastels, ink, or graphite.
Even the most common thing
Can seem to be introspective
When rendered with clever shading
Or seen from a different perspective.
Find me a new metaphor,
Or a novel unused simile—
Something like alliteration
To bring to life my poetry.
Help me write some plays on words,
Or a sentimental nuance,
That would appeal to those lovebirds
That see the world through the lens of romance.
Inspire me with lyrics
And clever rhymes that tell a story.
Then hum a new chord progression
That would support a melody.
Add guitar riffs and a hook
That surprise like an epiphany.
Bind them together like a book:
A multi-genre fusion symphony.
(Chorus)
Give me an idea worthy of a drawing, poem, or song;
Something inspiring enough to push creativity along.
Something interesting enough to fire the synapses in my brain.
Something provocative enough to make all stop and look again.
Summer soon prepares to start-
follow spring to paint new art;
change pastels to vivid hues-
willow-green to verdant, fuse.
Violets and daffodils-
tulips, iris, with their frills,
make the way for fuller scenes;
roses join as summer queens.
Babbling brooks flow full, with sound
from the rain that spring had downed.
Tall sunflowers sway and dance
neath blue skies- fine views, enhance.
Sunsets glow end of the day;
bright, fused colors then display.
Twilight turns on moonlit glows
casting light and shadow shows.
Summer Solstice is in June-
at mid-year when we commune
to spend time with everyone-
sharing beauty, fun, and sun.
April 17, 2023
Contest: Write A Jueju-Qijue Poem
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Form Chosen: Quije - 7 Syllable Lines
RZ HMS
Written: March 08, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Open the ledger, it's spring,
From that chasm as they'd frozen
Those days suddenly reappear
Died on your lips as they appear,
We have shared countless kisses
Roses return, exhibiting your scent;
They are the heart of your lover
Anguish reappears, I sense my pain
Sorrow of forgotten friends.
With arms of moon-silver
Strokes of long-lost ladies
I peruse every single page,
Answers are not available
And it's springtime yet again
creating identical queries
Reopening specific accounts.
Nestled in the gentle pastels
Of the softly sparkling dusk
My soul beams as I gaze alone
Softly throwing a kiss
Swaying with the evening breeze;
A tender kiss whispered,
A question sealed in the grip of desire,
A soft murmur of my thirst.
With each strand of yearning,
Persistent within my soul
Here's a kiss, a hidden secret
Across the expansive gap
It holds all my aspirations
My dreams my serene queries;
A sibylline serenade, full of love
I fail to disguise.
The desire in the air is palpable,
With the kiss rising lift,
A hopeful dance, a ballet of love
They swing with grace and extravagance
They glide across the starry sky,
Under the dulcet kiss of a full moon
A fetching fervor flock this trip
Passion runs deep.
With each web of my being
I embody this warm embrace,
Hoping it goes beyond the space
And discovers your purest grace,
I've given my heart with this kiss
An appeal for you to grip;
My passion runs deep
And my feelings for you.
Life! What approbations to recall?
A solace that never was – Utopia
Should such love get forgiveness?
The seminal seeds of such a cast…
Claims of the spurious narcissistic
Ah! Words, rescind not a sarcoma
lying brashly, filling its poison vial
long swallowed - bona fide denial!
(1/10/2021)
Nearing their curtain’s final fall, they fly
as the geese and monarchs; to warmth they hie
To hobble where once trees stood: golf courses,
smoothed for their lazy electric horses…
Chilled hearts and aching bones pay for the sun
Fenced off for their guarded and landscaped fun
For barely a stone-throw away, poor shakes,
Ripple the divide, hazing man-made lakes…
There they sweat through long sartorial jokes
fearing beams may strike a cancerous stroke
Whites and pastels their preferred uniform
Clearly labeled for their clubs’ garish norm…
Cloistered, they are already neatly packed
Boxed close for flames: coffins securely-stacked.
(3/5/18: ’06 Formula 37PC i/ii DMS)
would the skies be blue
would the circle be around
emotions colour coded
would the W
……………a
…………….t
…………….e
………….…r in clear innocence
Would mistakes be scraped from the canvas
replaced with a cloud
You can never have enough clouds
would a single bristle
ruin
I think god might be a dog
Here me out
He makes you look for him
The noises he makes when he sleeps
Your favourite chair is now his chair
Wait wait this ones about God
You went too far with the dogs
Would there be only light
I kinda like the darkness
Who would see the painting
Give critical thoughts
Is the canvas too taught
tightly wraps t up
………………h
……………….i
……………….s
Would the pastels merely be ghosts
would the crescent streak of blue and grey
sculpt the shark
be thinking this is not a fin
and I am not a shark
only you humans think that
The call us whales even named a country after us
Now your having the whales talking to sharks
Where does it end
Well after the t
Would it be sad
Would it ever end
Would the frame be stars
Each sun a nail in place
What would you hang it from
Could you paint our hopes and dreams
Bob Ross giving advice on the flaws
Would the darkness give you room for paws
Stop the dog reference could ja
Wait how did you get the paper
I believe in dog
gotta go he wants to take me for a walk..
The rumbling, crashing, riotous falls
were like instruments intent on
singing out their percussion.
Each watery movement came in
orchestrated rhythm, appearing as
the master of the scene
yet arriving on unheard cue.
The wild and noisy disorder of the
magnificent Niagara Falls were an
ever-changing mosaic of color
that could tumble from a
box of pastels.
In the sunlight they were soft,
no matter how bright the light became,
and always just as pleasing as the
gelato that sat in our waffle cones.
We dashed for cover as the sky
turned like a woolen gray shawl
upon the rolling hills behind us.
Colors arced into a bold sky,
stretching as open hands reaching
for the sun-kissed rain.
The colors were that bit more beautiful,
like God had polished the world afresh.
And how could we begrudge
those blessed drops?
For with them came
the rainbow, the greenery,
the cheery flowers, renewed vigor and
every other slice of life we so enjoy.
Her orchid blooms in petals across the vast expanse
bridging realms from here to there
spilling her wine and soaking the sphere of giving light
with impassioned shades of royal birth
as drowsy constellations daydream
she presents pious plumes of plum pastels
in a gesture of generous grandeur
for cosmic kings and queens
and mere mortal beings
golden eyed
behind heather veils of ethereal ecstasy
Susan Ashley
February 16, 2018
~ Ninth Place ~
Premiere Contest: March 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ First Place ~
Contest: Sunrise and Sunset
Sponsor: Silent One
(first Picture)
The ocean is home to a curation of shells,
The type you admire, the kind you call into,
The ones that whisper stories the sea never tells.
The peach and the pink, the pastels and the white —
All of them bring such a sense of delight.
I trace my finger over each and every grove and indent,
Each fracture and dent,
Wondering what they have seen, and what places they went.
I wonder if they are signs — heaven-sent.
This poet wonders — does she know the truth that is grand?
The shell that is pretty mesmerizes those little eyes
While the sea calls out her name for help.
Sand between her toes and wind through her hairs,
She felt every emotion one feels at a shore.
The next scene was haunting — it took away her innocence.
Fishes started to wash up on the shore,
The water began to form bubbles.
As she looked at her mother, who
Whispered with her eyes-
“Sorry, my precious little baby,
Forgive the humankind,
For the future we will leave behind.”
At the Parisian Ball
wrapped in finest gowns
of virgin-snow, sugar-rose
and washed-out pistachio pastels
The hour-glass shapes
with tied narrow waists
waltzed with gallant men
togged up in midnight-dusk tails.
Victorian ladies in frilly petticoats
and gossamer laces
swirled in delicate silks
Lifting their pretty faces
to crystal candelabras
to ceilings'baroque paintings
and to the chattering sounds
of the gathering crowds.
From the half-opened pantry door
She listened to the music
which played melodically all night.
In her simple black dress
nude stockings,white apron and cap
Solo,She danced,with the light of the moon
which was glowing so bright.
Her slender hips swayed
in a flirtatious curve
Wishing...Dreaming
to get a glimpse of his world.
Through the mirror on the wall
She saw him standing tall
As he danced with his noble mademoiselle
Through the mirror on the wall
He saw her standing small
He caught her reflection
young love and affection
Yet,He kept standing there.
She swore She could feel it
The longing,the feeling...
It was written all over his eyes
He never got closer
His princedom can't own her
But She knows She's the one
She is that little star
which keeps falling so softly
in his cold vacant skies.