Long Peach Poems
Long Peach Poems. Below are the most popular long Peach by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peach poems by poem length and keyword.
For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green. - J. R. R. Tolkien
Stunning light reflects the music,
Softly playing in hues of beautiful,
Dreamy buds, inspired by the sun,
Whisper hope in gentle creams,
Fragile pink and blushing mauves,
Delicate peach and pale lilac – peace…
Dazzling shadows, vibrant scarlet,
Glittering jewels of sapphire, luminous
As the pearly white that soothes,
Reflecting the songs of a quiet twilight,
As the leafy silence breaths hope
Through the spring’s glowing blooms.
Climbing, gliding, soaring over windy seas
Beyond the waves, through the morning’s breeze,
Perfect wings, sail gracefully…
Reminding each one that nature has her life,
With raspberry blessings, in quiet dreams,
Her heart melts the moments that foretell of spring.
Rich tints of laughter, silence the moon,
Reassuring the risktaker, blessing the truths
That aspire to bless us with rhythms,
From a season of purity, glowing with life,
Forever trembling and remembering
Easter, His sacrifice…
As the Spring embraces everyone who agrees
Despite the winter’s muteness,
There is the promise, the belief – that can see…
Beyond the doubts, beyond every fear,
Faith that bleeds joy into those who believe,
As Spring erases the past with its lively melody –
A melody of satisfaction for those who can see…
Spring’s enchantment in the showers, the trees, the message
Of a love that this season seems to impart –
The message of hope that Spring brings to hearts,
Who listen to the lyrics of a light falling through the quiet,
The lyrics found inside the soul who Spring has stirred…
With its unending blessings of pure sweet love.
Moonlight hitchhikes on green pines
Slipping away like maroon mind
Melancholy music rides breeze I find
Comfort and peace in warm red wine
Escape in a bottle isn’t the worst crime
Running full throttle from dilemma time
No longer on top not in my peach prime
Want it to stop this inner indigo whine
I failed and wail wildly in pantomime
Tell the tale smiling fallen star still shines
Hear them talking judgement like sour lime
Despite squawking new day new grace will chime
Turning the page on the drama of wintertime
Looking forward to redemption in green vines
Not dead yet despite my fret I will be fine
Know how to grow be bold and draw new lines
Ever misty morning light,
Darkest shadows taken flight;
Pale colors casually blent,
Golden blooms, most luscious scent!
Especial, pure and true,
Feel freshness, morning's dew!
Peach tree grove under a hill,
Just at sunrise, hush and still.
And on the horizon, skies of pink;
Into lush fruit the teeth to sink.
And branches are dark and rise above;
Song of bird from limb thereof.
Eagerly begins the march of day,
In the old fashioned way.
Such beauty, how so rare!
Sun sparkles in her hair.
Grove sunrise--sweet Georgia peach,
Like a lady, soft of speech;
And also full of every grace;
Sweet memory's resting place.
North Carolina ballerina,
sweet lady of the Piedmont,
she so sterling,
died from the selfishness
of a drunk driver.
Gliding into a pirouette
as she enters God's
garden of youth.
The anguish tatters the
sails of my psyche,
as the rain gently descends
from a sorrowing ash sky.
I drink the bitter taste of loss
from the goblet of the ages.
No, please, no,
she is a precious one.
The dew glistens on the
peach-hued roses of
maiden innocence,
as if tears on an infant's cheeks.
Elena, our ballerina of grace,
death passes into life,
your beauty of a June magnolia
blossom-
charming the angels who
attend you.
Elena, Elena,
your lovely dancer's legacy
still dwells in our midst.
Your name whispered in
summer's evefall starry music. ~
A cup of peach tea is calming
Breakfast, lunch, or dinner winner
Creating comforting moods peace
Dissolving any frustration
Empowering everyone's joy
Fill a cup with honey and love
Giving your ear hearing with heart
Hope is a gold spoon that’s stirring
Inside a mind that may be stressed
Join me for you are most welcome
Killing time with chat as weapon
Let sweet tea marry a pastry
Munch on it enjoy the flaky
Now we’ll add soft music and laughs
Oh what simple pleasures we have
Pretty china cups we refill
Quick take off my shoes fancy free
Red beautiful roses smell fresh
Sipping tea as I notice them
Teal flowers on china confess
Universal love for unique
Variety of dainty things
What a wonderful tea party
X marks the spot for fulfilling
You have another cup of tea
Zipping zipper down to eat more
Just within reach - if only I could dare
to pluck that fruit! A luscious peach or pear?
No, not one of these! Metaphorically
I’m speaking! Like a bauble on a tree,
he brightly sparkled, beautiful and rare.
His eyes and lips were tender, and his hair -
smooth onyx framing one sweet face so fair!
That precious night I found sheer poetry
just within reach.
To think I touched that face and loved to stare
at it, imagining the life we’d share
perhaps one day . . . but it was not to be.
My fondest dream had possibility
till circumstance replaced what had been there
just within reach!
I’m gobs smacked; I thought I saw it all,
I said “Rub your eyes Sidney Hall.”
There’s jelly at the Beach,
There was lemon, orange, banana yellow, and my favourite peach.
So much jelly all in one place,
I wonder how they could fit it in such a small space.
One thing I must say and I'm glad
To you when you hear it might sound bad
Here we go: I’m really concerned
For the freedom of these colourful bikinis is justifiable earned?
With oozing jelly bellies hanging over the sides
Some one please dab my watering eyes
Oh the chaffing and squeaking from their thongs
Sound like a bunch of strangled birds singing their last songs
One thing I must say for certain
One bikini could make a duvet and a pair of curtains
Jelly bellies, hips and thighs
This beats an optician’s test of the eyes
And when they bend over it happens so soon
A total eclipse of the sun and the moon
When they lay on the beach, the direction to run I don't know
For it's like a mudslide or a lava flow
Well to some men this might be a terrible sight
To others the jelly at the beach is a beautiful sight
*Ok it's not quite jellyfish but I must admit*
*but there is loads of Jelly not a little bit*
Malibu fades like a postcard worn,
peach light bleeding through wingtip torn.
Dorothea sits, unfocused, still,
as coastline slides against her will.
The shore drifts past, the engine sighs,
along with truths she never tries.
Blood and bone flash across the screen,
girls should not love so loud, so mean.
Bodies collide, then break apart,
hands on throats, teeth, ribs, and heart.
The sound is sharp, the motion wild,
then headphones ripped away by mother, child.
The screen goes blank, the violence gone,
like it was never playing on.
Just silence left, abrupt and thin,
all that noise still trapped within.
Bathroom air is tight and pale,
thin as a truth she cannot tell.
Her comb slips down, strikes tile below,
no time to stop, no time to know.
She drops the parchment folded flat,
a life bent neatly, just like that.
All the things she never tried,
all the hours that passed her by.
It is not a letter,
not a plea,
not a truth meant to set her free.
A photograph
staring back at me.
Under a lamppost, Sixth Street light,
burning small suns into the night.
Salt wind tangled through their hair,
someone laughing, unaware.
Someone already turning away,
heart half gone from the street that day.
She freezes there, then shoves it back,
like guilt she keeps on quiet track.
Like words she wishes she could erase,
like doors she slammed in softer days.
Like bruises hid beneath the skin,
no one asks where they have been.
Outside the window, Malibu
melts to clouds of washed-out blue.
The pier stands thin, a splintered line,
the ocean barely marks its time.
She steps away,
slow and small,
soft as shadows on the wall.
Gone,
but not like wind that flies,
this leaving lingers in her eyes.
She thinks of those who never knew,
the one who knew her through and through.
The fights, the heat, the summer glow,
that held them fast and would not go.
It is strange how years outrun,
how people fade, how moments run.
Planes lift off, the past grows thin,
but photographs
do not give in.
They stay the same, they do not bend,
they do not soften, break, or end.
Still and silent, sharp and true,
time held frozen in the blue.
Sleepy mid-afternoon
Even the cat takes naps;
Brown dog with dreams unknown
Hot favourite soft buns
Crowded lunch queue waiting;
Each bagging takeaway
Curry mixed rice vendor
Extra helping of meat;
Hungry customers queue
Assorted cakes await
Gourmet cake shop delights;
Tarts, quinces, and pastries
Curry puff specialty
Old uncle bakes finesse;
Ample stocks sold out
Fruits galore by wayside
Stall with long history;
Third-generation here
Busy supermart chain
Queue after queue winding;
Cash registers attend
Local dessert menu
All sorts of sweet foods tempt;
Try the peach tidal wave!
Yam paste ginko dessert
Delicious mouthful swirled;
A heavenly delight
Turkey sandwich meal pack
Ready-to-go cookies;
American Subway
Fast food restaurants here
Make many meals easy;
We tend to eat too much
Family treat right here
At the shopping arcade;
Easy delicacies found
So much food to pleasure
The discerning palate;
See so many obese
So many eateries
Spoilt for choice picky we:
Follow fickle fancies
Gastronomic ecstasy
So much to pick and choose;
Discerning taste buds judge
Leon Enriquez
25 July 2014
Singapore
With pastel shades of rose, yellow and peach,
a poet paints with his words, a sunrise
until the voice of a muse starts to preach,
"Observe it from my more creative eyes."
Suggestions planted; seeds of doubt were sown
for the proper hues of a sandy shore.
Foiled poet versus a Muse on her throne.
Balls of crumpled pages, flung to the floor.
Her clicking tongue whispers in the poet's ear,
destroying thoughts he had captured in rhyme.
"I see I've work to do. You're no Shakespeare."
Each line scribed, a ladder's rung worth the climb.
Sonnet penned with an infusion of spice
when a muse beggars to proffer advice.
August 22, 2020
Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish