Long Picture perfect Poems
Long Picture perfect Poems. Below are the most popular long Picture perfect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Picture perfect poems by poem length and keyword.
My wife and I have lived in our present home for more than 14 years, and I think that the loveliest time of the year in our community is the fall season. One look at a tall leafy tree can take your breath away. One such tree is just across the street from our house. When I saw it, one word sufficed. Wow!
Although I am certain that this tree has grown taller and broader over the course of fourteen years, there were years that transpired before I even noticed it's beauty. For years, it's beauty was more than 'bark deep' and staring down at me, but I never noticed.
It was only about four to five years ago that I was walking down the hall on the second floor of our home. When I looked up, I was deeply moved by the sight of the tree. It seems that all things simply came together at that particular moment. Both the door and the window blinds in that North facing room were open, and I was treated to the awesome sight of that tall fall tree.
It was as if I had just awakened from a long sleep, or had hidden in a cave. The summer green had turned a beautiful golden yellow. It was as if a voice yelled out and said, "Just Look At Me! ". The power of orange captivated me, and I was arrested by a live portrait, painted by the hand of God. I have looked forward to the sight every year since.
The tree did not have a facelift or makeover, and it had not moved closer nor farther away from my view. But at that moment, it cried out for me to notice and observe its stunning beauty. With pleasure, I was mesmerized and beheld its awesomeness. On that occasion, I did not glance or pause for a quick look, because this time I was not hurried or too busy to look, as I must have been for so many years prior. I was stopped completely in my tracts and drawn toward the tree for a closer view.
Perhaps this fall tree encounter speaks so much about my life and thinking that has slowed and changed over the last few years. Perhaps I can see and feel more of what really matters because the pace of my life has been slowed. I have a much clearer view because the hot summers of my busy life have departed. I am no longer blinded by the forest because a single, exquisite, and distinguished tree has yelled out to me. The tree of picture-perfect orange has ordered me to stop and stare.
11212011 PS Contest, 09142017, Autumn Colors, Nayda Negron, 2P
Holiday time.
You finally get away
You hired a villa across the road
From an estuary beach
With gentle rolling waves
No more than a foot and a half
That day, you, your wife
And your 2 young children
Just play in the sand
Run up and down
Collecting sea shells
And other mementos
The weather is just great
Maybe the sea breeze is
A tad cool for getting in the water
Next morning is picture perfect
North easterly pushes the waves
To two and a half foot
Great for kids
On the boogie board
Late morning the sun
Heats up enough
For getting in
Amongst it
You take you kids out
One by one
And push them off
On the board
To ride the waves
They are breaking nicely
But out a bit further
Than usual
You take your son out
Beyond the break
And wait for
The next set
You are about 200
Meters from shore
Standing in water nearly
Up to your neck
Your son on the board
Waiting for a wave
The shark appears
From nowhere and
Takes a chunk out
Of the board
You grab your son
Hold him up
Panic wants to set in
Then you see two more fins
Coming towards you
They taught you to
Stand your ground
Hit the shark with something
No sudden moves
Don’t panic
What are your options here
If the sharks decide to
Attack, you die
Your son can’t swim
So he dies as well
You could throw him
To the sharks
And you might survive
Or you might not
You could recover the board
Now about 10 meters away
Put your son on a wave
And you could distract
The sharks and
Probably get eaten
But your son might live
Then you realise
The other two fins
Belong to dolphins
They were protecting you from
The shark
You make it back to shore
With your son
Where your wife
And daughter are
Beside themselves
Having witnessed
All that.
You say
I would have chosen
To die
No buts about it.
I am begging pretty please
Put my doubtful mind at ease
Telling me what I am thinking
Will not leave me hurt and sinking
Into a state of pure despair
Can we please just clear the air
On what has been happening
With our passion disappearing
More and more from day to day
How did it just fade away
We used to hold each other tight
Morning sun till moonlit night
Strong and steady we were heading
To the picture perfect wedding
Now those dreams are in the past
My hopes of love are drowning fast
Big waves forming in a sea
By saddened tears cried by me
I just need a little notion
By a gesture of devotion
You still want me by your side
As a happy blushing bride
At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.
My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.
"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.
Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.
November 18th, 2014
Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"
Without love, there are empty rooms in my heart
housing aching pains, flames numb and strange.
A blaze starts the strain of emotions falling apart
And every moment spent becomes a prison cage.
Lent like a dagger, which pierces into every dream,
The cold stream hurts where all the roads diverge,
Into fabled remedies of the hopes my soul has seen
plucked clean, happiness drained in depleting age.
A simple thought, the revelation instantly unveils
Picture perfect, those years of unwelcome advances,
Taking lonesome chances of walking along darken trails,
Regrets, builded the walls into greater distances.
Time, is no longer mine, as before in grandeur years
Without love, how destiny has chosen a different way,
To harness my fears and hurt with those bitter tears,
That my soul will face in a bleak and beguiling day.
I may stop to pray, but my imagination will still stare
Far into reflections of yesterday and the day before,
Gone away into the space of a cloudy atmosphere,
Disappearing beyond earth into a future unsure.
. . . I am lost in a sea of memories
that scar the roadmap of my bleeding soul;
my words- the highway to my deep pain.
I follow a labyrinth of passages and corridors
curved and contrived- I am a child praying.
Oh, my withered dreams, my hopes, my aspirations!
Why do I dreg up my past sorrows
that come drifting like a dark death melody . . .
my grief comes unbidden to stain my years-
my tears hang from dripping branches in a
. . . graveyard where tombs stand in rows and rows.
Oh- grass grows greener in a graveyard,
and the happy hummingbirds hover in heavenly harmony
and red roses decay- the wind a violin . . .
(Blood seeps from the dagger in my heart!)
Barefoot, ragged, hair tangled- I am a girl
lost in the sad wail of violin winds;
. . . life stretches before me like a long road.
I am sick of all the sorrow- decay,
I want days as clear as sparkling wine,
to live a life of peace and serenity;
days brilliant blue and nights full of stars,
picture perfect, instead of this vast empty place . . .
Oh, bitter this life- yet a fire burns
inside of me and soon it will explode . . .
_________________________________
February 13, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/Oh, My Withered Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 02- 875-889-13
All Rights Reserved, 2017, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, Best Free Verse This Year,
sponsor, John Hamilton, Judged 2017
Second Place
________________________________________
For the contest, Any Free Verse 200 Words or Less
Sponsor, Laura Loo Judged
First Place
Picture Perfect
She exuded a vindictive pride -
not frightened – not fortunate.
She would bathe in the amazing ritual -
opening night. All eyes, all attention,
focused on her. She would arise – victorious.
Critics reviews a sweet prelude to a vision.
Her presence would beguile millions.
The awakening was awful.
The vicious betrayal of a dimming corridor,
finding herself alone in a darkened corner.
Life’s gruesome, oval moon,
depressions grim monolith,
patronized by the annoyingly delightful,
opaque interpretations
of jaundiced museum goers.
7/13/2016
Make a Poem #2
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
21 words to be used in poem
awful, amazing, annoying
grim, gruesome, delightful
frightened, fortunate, finding
monolith, moon, museum
oval, opaque, opening
patronize, pride, prelude
vicious, vindictive, victorious
Pack your bags
We are off to the airport
Our Flight #212 was called
Our plane is running down the runway
Into the friendly skies
European places
Just you, me and anyone else who wants to join
Enriched goodness and elegance
Feel the avion
History with its own aroma
Reflecting back enjoying the laid back
Relaxed setting
Sights and sounds
Loveliness like no other
Picture perfect
European cuisine
Wine sip
European flavor
Just savor
Foreign languages accent all around
Romantic violin’s feeling enchanted
An evening of dance under the stars and moon
Kisses upon kisses
Candlelight sensation
Walking along the shores
Fashion shops
Styles and Brands
Shop until you drop
Adventure
Journey
Friendly voices
Destination back
Our venture hard to keep track.
As you count the days, I’ve been gone
I wonder has much changed
Since I last left home
It takes so much more than I love you
And a kiss on the forehead every morning
To make a relationship work
My hearts so sore and it keeps telling me
If I go on without you much longer
It’s going to make this companionship hurt
A warm hug won’t make everything better
But it helps, so forget these simple steps
Charms could never linger in this weather
For there is no such depth
Still you count the days, I’ve been gone
Still I wonder has much changed
Since I last left home
I know I can’t be there every moment you cry
But when I am, it makes your loneliness die
And who’s there to watch the children
Maybe tomorrow lady liberty will burn
I’ve come to find that you have much to say
It’ll be seven years of bumping heads in may
So whether it’s in my grave or beside you
That’s where I’m going to continue to lay
I wonder do you still count the days I’ve been gone
Tell me, has much changed
Since I last left home
In a sleepy English village with a pretty seaside view, a tiny white thatched cottage sits, perfect just for two.
Wild lily of the valley grows along the garden path. And underneath an oak tree sits a bench and old bird bath.
This picture-perfect cottage that is full of country grace has freshly painted window sills and curtains made of lace.
Pink roses frame the lush green grass where robins love to sing, and in the distance you can hear the local church bells ring. This charming little home would bring a smile to any face.
And right beside the garden gate, a sign reads Julia's place.