Long Perch Poems
Long Perch Poems. Below are the most popular long Perch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Perch poems by poem length and keyword.
I eat to live
I drink to live
I'm in merry making for mind healthy
here
the flowing river
the floating unseen winds
the tranquil chirping of magpies
the blooming mango flowers
the spring fresh leaves
the elopement of bee with butterfly
the flapping wings of grasshoppers
the lazy sitting of crows on the perch
the back to home smiling appealing damsel
everything, everything of nature
gives me healing power inside heart,
increases my healthy tenderness to the maiden earth
magnolia in maidenhead greets me
to the grove of dignity, nobility and purity
of womanly beauty and gentleness
I've touched the heart of thirty three springs
but every winter gave me taste of death
and the daffodil revives me,
incarnates in the idiosyncratic love;
daisy and dandelion carry me to your loyal love
with faithfulness where death comes
but as the eternal rebirth
-January 29,2020 Chattogram
With a forgotten desire to light up the night
Flickering embers of passion untold
Like stars at night are lost to day
Like a bird first to perch and later take flight
So is life a mystery never to unfold
Bringing more to do and much more to say
Has it not been that love does rekindle
Why surrender to time and take new turn
Why share memories so sooner forgotten
Is it not waste to ignite a candle
If after the night it melts and burns
Me think love food not wanted once eaten
Why bind a woman with the smallest prison
And upon her shoulders place obligations and duty
If first her heart she never did offer
Let her unfaithfulness battle first with reason
With another in heart your love is vanity
Her body she gives but her soul must suffer
If love was generous and justly fair
Why give to others what we need not
best
Countless are men who profess falsehood
To build up illusions ever so bare
They break old eggs to seek new nests
The treacherous trait of selfish manhood
Why pretend to be what we are not
Journey through life to return back
To comb the circumference of this sphere
Yet sell selves for less a penny bought
Taking steps forward to be taken aback
Oblivious to reasons like when, what and where
From dust came we why think us pure
Our hearts so small to love but we
A stain to spring yet purer than mud
We own no shell at the seashore
Sometimes what should may never be
Can a man love another more?
A star was feeling a little sad and lonely from his perch up in the sky
when a cloud with same problem was about to pass him by.
“Oh cloud you are so beautiful!” The star said.
“You have size and depth and height.
You fill the sky with your presence
while I am but a tiny spot of light.”
“But your light is permanent.” The cloud said.
“You shine from setting sun till dawn.
people see me only for a moment
for a moment…then I’m gone.”
“But I am but one color.” The star said.
“You reflect all the colors of the sun.”
The cloud smiled, “But under you on a quiet night
how many a heart’s been won?”
But you can carry rain.” The star said.
“You help plants grow tall and strong.”
But you, my friend, are the subject of poetry
of hopes and dreams…and song.”
They went on like this until the cloud passed by
and their conversation came to its inevitable end
both a lot happier than when they were but a moment ago
both having found a friend…
Both feeling a little better about themselves
as they took a moment to say goodbye…
The cloud as he rode upon the wind
and the star as he twinkled in the sky.
I sit alone with winter, wondering
what calls the arctic breeze to wandering
seducing, as it passes, everything
a silence only falling snow can bring
Ponder the dormant river ‘neath the ice
entrapped within its shorelines crushing vise
thinning shadows of geese who rolled the dice
feathers ruffling as wind exacts its price.
Faint clinking sounds of skeletal White Birch
thin ghosts of Christmas past in endless search
for meaning in this empty, frozen church
its congregation fled from swaying perch.
My presence decorates this Winter scene
a misplaced bulb upon an evergreen.
John G. Lawless
©12/14/2018
A bird that's born in a gilded cage
learns of flying at an early age
Even though it must call its own home
a perch inside its small, golden dome.
To spread its small wings one day, to soar
over mountains, oceans, even more
to fly to greet early morning star
are but dreams behind its golden bar.
To sit atop snowy mountains high
observe the world with a keen bird's eye
To meet those flocks it has never known
and tell bird tales of skies it has flown
it sings of life beyond golden gate
its songs are of the joy that awaits
when it can fly in an endless space
flying in a cloud, touching wind's face
Though the bird in cage will never know
its songs are sweet as in a meadow
it cannot fly because of clipped wings
but it can dream, so lovely bird sings.
February 16, 2023
for "Writing Challenge - F Words"
by Constance La France
Flying
howmanysyllables.com=9
The Crystal Cathedral
A mile underground it rested
A cavern as large as a football field as high as a house
Hot as hell and as wet as the largest ocean it existed
Thriving in a world that would kill life
It grew and changed slower than a human can watch
Minute crystals grown into pillars hundreds of feet long
New crystals grew from the bodies of those who fell from their perch
Unknown and unseen for a half a billion years it waited
Opened by accident by ignorant men who changed you
It was not their fault
It was meant to happen
Today’s world would not allow this cathedral to stay alone
Samples were taken and sold to tourists
Artificial light replaced the darkness of its home
Air conditioning lowered the heat and moisture of the air
Your world was destroyed
More and more crystals fall and cover the cavern floor
Eventually the church of crystal will again seal away from the world
It will again grow and thrive at least for another half million years
Or until another ignorant man has an accident
And it will die another slow death at the hand of man
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The boat still waits where water meets the shore,
its hull a ghost of varnish, cracked and thin.
Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more.
Motor sits idle—no strong hands the throttle to pull
at dawn’s first blush or dusk’s slow-settling din.
The boat still waits where water meets the shore.
I trace the name he carved with patient score:
Ninnie Poo—paint now like weathered skin.
Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more.
The pines still lean as if they’re listening for
his whistled tune, the hook’s sharp plink within.
The boat still waits where water meets the shore.
The perch still school where cattails root and sprawl,
untroubled now by his net or his custom-made jig-spin.
Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more.
The lake holds silence, calm and still with languor.
Hushed wooden dock moans, wondering where Dad has been.
The boat still waits where water meets the shore.
Dad’s empty boat rides the waves no more.
Demagogue not pedagogue
Aghast & agog
Perfidious insidious fog
Reeks of the past
Slog through the smog
Musk seeks to flog
Earth & its serfs
Downed & drowned
In his dystopian bog
Even starry nights
Elon’s neon satellites
Seedier media perch
Utter nutter besmirch
Thriving in the gutter
Conniving depriving church
Vex "X" & Tech T-Rex hex
Or next bogus Rogan
Bogan slogans prevails
Alpha male tales derails
Sod the planet’s scars
Cruise trips to Mars
Odd bod driverless cars
Spawn a fake Tarantino
Remake.."Musk till Dawn"
Devil may care lair..
Loads of lies..skies chock a block
With spies...all eyes on the prize
Everyone Everything Everywhere dies
Let's not parley with gnarly snarly
Musk...takes the mickey & the bicky
In the dock for running amok
Time guys he did finally own up
To being as grown up..
As a Farley’s Rusk (a British biscuit/bicky for a wee kiddy)
L ow clouds droop as she sits on rumpled gown
O aths of pale secrets falling through ravaged sleeves
S omber cheeks line a hollowed tract, cast down
T iredness all around; steep as barb- wired leaves.
T ainted droplet hides on eyelid’s corner
E ncasing her passages streaked with pain,
A s black stars perch on withered flowers
R eflecting shadows ruptured, glimpses wane.
S ilently her thoughts prick sparse winds, to blow
O pening dam of jarred beats from love’s past haze;
B eyond snuffed wails, lost tear plunges full flow
S ullen as thorns, she weeps in requiem sways.
Black-Eyed Susan's Lost Contest
Long years ago, you heard I fell,
just tumbled from a wall and—SPLAT!
I’d not be whole again, all said.
I’m here to follow up on that.
The King’s men scraped my pieces up.
It seemed they’d better things to do
than put me back together right.
I think they used Gorilla Glue.*
Now here I am, a messed-up sight,
a monster much like Frankenstein.
My body parts are all askew.
Not even my eyeballs align.
I'm feared, avoided, ridiculed.
I've no place in society.
Made a pariah by my looks,
though not in prison, I'm not free.
I hoped corrective surgeries
would fix me; so I filed a claim.
It was denied. It seems that for
my brokenness, I was to blame.
Here's what the agent said. I quote:
"Foolhardy eggs that perch on walls
should know that someday they'll get hurt.
They've asked for whatever befalls."
*popular product advertised as “the
toughest adhesive on the planet”