Long Phases Poems
Long Phases Poems. Below are the most popular long Phases by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phases poems by poem length and keyword.
At night she comes to say hello.
Adorned me with love and beauty.
Shining her soft, caresses light on her earth child.
Whisper sweet encouragements in my ears.
Shower me with sweet kisses on my cheeks,
Tell me her deep secrets.
Where she hide during day light,
And about all the lovers that come at night.
How she wept for human kind.
When they are consumed with hate.
And how she prayed with those who lost their faith.
Her beauty never fades.
Even if she sometimes changes shape.
Remind us although we not always whole,
And go through different phases, we must never lose hope.
She will constantly watching us.
As the real aura of our better angels presents
That they are essential to historical events
It stirs and shakes one to the core of reverence
Infidel's ancient cries refrain far faint ringing
Winging their will of distant darkness, way off singing
Articulating it into nature's aria
Gabriel spreads gloried messages with wide white wings
Touching three theologies: all Abrahamic faiths -
Includes Christianity, Judaism and Islam
Archangels may cometh once every few hundred years
Gabriel brings grace as it's needed, it appears
His broad arching flaming feathers cover every verse
Angelic influence flows forever beyond sages
When Gabriel appears from the side of the Divine
To tell mortals of their roles in this passion sublime
So says Jesus' scriptures and Muhammed's Quran pages
Karmic grace does glow glory across all of life's phases
Then from within, overlook the thought that belief is fear
Hold back the black and let light lead us on, start right here
Gabriel gazes the universe beatifically
Free Verse 20 Lines 161 Words 7/7/21
I can't be part of the conversation
Cause I always go mute
Every time they bring up the conversation
For why would I speak to them yet they call me a brute
They've already labelled the world black and white
And the white pieces always have the first move
So why would I use my only moves to only write
Myself more hate cause I'm afraid of making a wrong move
I hence chose to be deep in the silence
The silence of the injustices on us
Choosing to fight for sheer existence
Cause I can only count for change from us
That's why I'd chose everyday to be with people like me
Around the love that doesn't change with phases
That everywhere I look its people who are like me
With smiles the only things brightening our faces
The PO£T
Metamorphosis
The future looms so much closer now
no dreams weave a halo around its outcome
aspirations have dwindled to respirations
insistence on continuing the game of life.
Most all of what I’ve gone through
have been referred to as stages,
phases of life, periods of adjustment,
trials and tribulations to be overcome,
moved through, lessons learned.
Not so anymore. Those easy “lay-ups”
early in the game, though as important
as the “Buzzer-beater”, never seemed
as “easy” to execute. Seems life has
become a series of “two minute drills”,
no “hurry up” offense, just a plodding
“three yards and a cloud of dust”
dedication to the demands of the game.
To “show up, suit up and stand up”.
Now I know why there are empty pages
at the back of the play book,
why spontaneity and experience
conspire to overcome - not overpower.
I review the plays each day
knowing it is not the game that must change
but my relationship to the game,
to adapt, to undergo the metamorphosis
of living, accept the gradual changes
of a future that I somehow “outran”,
the present it became, and the past
that fades beneath the clouds at the
base of the mountain.
1/14/2017
submitted to – Any Poem Written In January 2017
Head and tail, front and back, face and b_tt or some other names -- titles for the two faces of a coin.
Two faces of a coin, like the two phases of life in reality.
If there's the rich side, then there's the poor side. The good side and the bad side of life as well.
People keep on reading and writing. People also keep on counting -- counting different things that are in front of us, including the negative elements and bad examples in life. And just like anything else that captures everybody's attention, whatever is in front of us is the most interesting of all... counting what's on our palm... like m & ms.
Money in paper form is as good as a coin of great value to man. So, which side would you choose in a coin?
Others say, we can choose the girdle or the middle. For all we know, the middle face of the coin only lies or stands either flat or upright. If you choose the flat position, it sits while the upright position stands and rolls.
So what's the best thing to do with a coin... save it or use it? Like keeping it or spending it.
The two faces of a coin will always be there forever. How you use each face is up to you! What is more interesting, you try to figure out which side is more benefiting. Then ask yourself again, benefit or comfort?
Not everybody believes that money is the root of all evil. Money, in form of a coin, is helpful and beneficial to human wants; comforting to human needs
Between wants and needs, life can be a mess or success.
The two faces of a coin, like the left and right sides of life. Just pick and do what is right. Drop what is not right!
In sepia foliage's of falsified fantasies,
cursed by haunting hornets stinging
with honeyed painted lies,
her mind was like a matriarch of metaphors.
An inflorescent seed buried in darkness,
with a somnolent spirit rustling in onyx nostalgia.
Too afraid to spread her fragile feathers,
she lay upon a bed of black rose petals,
veiled underneath dark raven phases,
hidden behind the silence of lunar secrets,
Her soul slept like grieving ghosts of galactic graves,
repeatedly releasing wounded sighs.
Not all florets flourish
with the mercy of rainwater,
only nourishing hands can create
an aesthetic pastel carnival of confetti,
like lilac lavender snowflakes of smoky love.
Some spicy spirits are like
the marigold locket of liquid,
glowing like turmeric hues
in tamarind tinted skies of oblivion,
clearing diaphanous dewdrops
of a grainy hourglass,
spreading vintage violet wishes
in bluish epiphany skies,
disintegrating a montage
burnt to nefarious ashes,
raising amaranth pink petals
of heartfelt empathy.
There is a magic in midnight reigns,
as dawn retreats, dusk births a saviour knight,
altering twilight's twinkling tunnel
of kismet stars perfumed with sins.
Moonlight spreads a subtle silk scent
when fears fall like cosmic dust,
soothing a scarred moon soul and stars in slumber.
Not all flowers need a gardener to grow,
but all seedsmen sow to bloom an ivory aurora,
through the obscurity of ebony eyes.
Sometimes, its the simple touch of fingertips,
that lays the perfect foundations,
for a sunflower to embellish in gold.
My silent serene soul softly craves your candles of crystalline calm.
Your gallant greens of golden glow gently beam with bumbles, bashing blissful thoughts in a thundering whisper.
Our chemistry and connection is madly enchanted in ethereal crimson certainty of nectar's new dawn.
I want to own the oceans and you like I hold my butterflies and beliefs.
Rumple my radiant lips on silhouette sheets of your secret shoulder yard, leaving amaranth art of kisses on your lavender chest.
Letting your spikes of spices chase me into a search of serenity.
You are my wind in the wild storm.
The whisperer, wanderer in my mystical melodies.
You are the tempting thoughts in my tempestuous tides, thrilling the turbulent twilight of my heavenly heart.
The mesmerizing midnight memories in the infinite brain of my independent heart.
I'm nightfall without your luminous laughter.
I'm dateless without your conducive calendar of pink promises.
I'm the death of a wasteful war and torn tears from the endless screams.
Be the pondering puzzles of my relentless reasoning.
The savoury solitude in my sour soul.
The hibiscus honey and roasted peanuts in my poetic pantry.
My rustling reckless reflection in muttered excuses.
And I'll be your rainbow, your Rosa Juliet.
Your chocolate cosmos. Your scout for love in the jungle of jasmine spring.
I have fondly found fleeting fragrances of happiness from the ryhming rheum in your eyes. It is daring densely, hallucinating hazardously, making me stare still till I blindly bleed in haphazard hues.
Till eternity my love, your secret silence is the riff in every song. It is the splash of every sound. The hair on my stirred skin. The pulchritudinous phases of pain in astrological agony.
Stand, stand my sublime king so thou shalt see the height of my love for thee.
Listen, listen my charming prince so you shall hear my painting in every voice.
So you can feel the breathless bath of the present and the tickle in the tapestry of our voiceless vows, viciously channeled through the thighs of our bond and the sync of your seductive grasp.
So I can smell the wind of your hands slowly stroking my sensitive skin and the attention of my hairs saluting your stemless grasps.
My soul critically craves you my workshop and I your tools.
8/15/17
No matter what happens next
May not always make sense
And seem far-fetched
On either side of fence
For ages
The whole place going through changes
And phases
Occuring non-stop
Below and above the top
Occasionally might get one's wires crossed
Still try to connect the dots
Across the whole span
Could get out of hand
And go not according to plan
Or end up being a sham
Might have one's hands full
Eye(s) on the goal
In control on one's own mind, body and soul
At a slow rate or pronto
Could be an employee, or the head honcho
Driving a Ford Bronco
Or Lamborghini Murcielago
Struggling to make ends meet, or living like you won the lotto
although weightless beyond skyline’s phases
visibly mirroring iridescent dew--
there is something soft about the blue-yellow
of twilight, like a meditation of fragile
chorale from swallows wafting along thin
outlines, minutes between dusk and sunrise…
low fire. warm joy. cozy beds.
and so, as moonglow wanes vanishes
bequeathing its crown to early dawn ,
we nourish the pulp of eve's honey
that twirls on a filmy carousel of regret
or perhaps, answered promises.,
for when eve’s dreams are gone, undone
we reach them within twilight’s embrace.
Dated 3/03/2018
For Pick a Title--Free Verse of Edward Ibeh
4/14/17
Across the ages
There was many changes
During the beginning, middle and end of phases
Above and below any stages
Some left to be found, written upon pages
Leaving a lot or little to if any traces
Among any places
Considered tiny or spacious
Regardless of their being nearby basins
There is nothing funny about starvation
Nor the greed of certain corporations
Makes me have more rage than Jason
With a hockey mask, causing mayhem
Current situations
May have involved more complications
Close and far from any vegetation
Currency came in different faces
Among many nations
Or federations
Above and below the basement
Near and far from any pavement
People making and taking payments
Due to desperations
Some continually gave into temptations
Had hesitations
And made zero preparations
Meanwhile others reached the intended destination
Achieving a state of elevation
After much determination and hard work, followed a possible celebration
Or revelation
With concentration
Have some motivation
From within find more inspiration
While making adaptations
Throughout trials and tribulations
Many civilizations
You can see in person, or only through illustrations
Certain locations
Full of radiation
And/or known to have a dangerous reputation
Still yet to be proven with a solid explanation
Continual paranormal investigations
Regarding anything, accurate portrayals or misrepresentations
Unknown or famous
It was or wasn't caught on surveillance
Crystal clear picture quality or blurry with some grayness
Rituals conducted on certain occasions
Some of which involve shamans
Meanwhile apprentice or master, blacksmith and masons
May be wearing protective aprons
Working on something considered complex or fairly basic
Near and beyond any waters with or without crustaceans
By: Dalton Ogletree