Long Pigeon Poems
Long Pigeon Poems. Below are the most popular long Pigeon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pigeon poems by poem length and keyword.
Where are you going to direct me if I'm not with you?
What I fear is the root of my most profound agony.
I'm scared as I'm always compelled to pursue.
I've run out of excuses to be emotional and scary.
And on the mantel, candles have been set to provide shade.
Overcast our movements with an unfathomable shade of darkness
Despite my distress and stiffness, I chose to stay with you, not fade.
I cherished the eternal depths of your being a lover and kindness.
The throb continues to pound me, and my heart continues to race.
When we're not together, I feel an emptiness in my heart.
My wish is that we should have parted way before we embrace.
It's been ages since I've felt this thoughtful zest.
The utter denigration of memories
To find an aspiration where none is apparent.
Several moral tales emerge from exploited reveries.
My merit is similar to that of a sacrificial victim pigeon, errant.
Any rose petals could have fallen to the floor in that corner.
Spread similar to a river, elaborate on flows.
Giggles are alive and well, bringing some much-needed light warner.
Rather than flowers, thorns sprouted from the rose.
My heart was tearing itself apart as I screamed in agony.
In my heart, there is no longer space for anything but suffering.
There is no way for you to return to your set point of insanity.
You'd been waiting in line for too long hovering.
My pet bird took off into the trees.
I'm sick of seeing me having to leave.
It's the only thing that's obvious; a vulnerability exposed by the breeze.
Although the pain is momentary, it takes years to evolve.
I crave the contentment and peace you are lacking.
Do you prefer what I imply? Nothing specific you aim to?"
I'm not sure I trust what you're saying.
Not much is left in my body except bones and your fluency too.
All that remains are these revolting, dirty, sickening tremors in my limbs.
I can't even evolve any closer because I'm trapped in the past.
Every day is a hollow one for me; you can only satisfy my whims.
It's impossible to ignore you because you're so lovely ever to last.
Allowing you to suffer has made my life grumpy.
Writing Prompt - Ache - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Written April 23, 2021
On that starry night, as I sat on the open balcony
Of my own pigeon home, so cosy
I saw, mesmerization, O pure adoration
How beautous was this great attraction!
A blanket of stardust, a black one full of stars
Faced with it, so trivial seemed my scars
Life itself seemed so mysterious
And so full of grace so imperious!
As I watched with wonder, came running down my cheeks
Those tears, seeking their way out of their creeks
Merciful must be the high Lord
None knew why he did create a world so haggard!
Somewhere, thought I, must be an abode
There, sing the fairies, an eternal ode
While switching on and off the blinking lights
Of life and death, such must be its sights!
On that starry night, living seemed a must
A travel from a forgotten place to an unknown one
To live simply with the wills of just
Shall someday give me the high stature of the great swan!
Name : Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Spirituality or religion?
Based on where born, most pray to a symbol;
reach for scriptures, like a homing pigeon,
laudable no doubt, resting thoughts nimble,
yet missing out on vibrant bliss tingle.
There’s a holy book, they need to follow,
yet cannot do so, in waters shallow,
for oh dear hearts, the word is not the thing,
when tested, faith crumples, being hollow,
having never felt, bliss throbs God does bring.
The agnostic choosing heart expansion,
negates all that, that is impermanent,
head-heart aligned with love in elation,
plunges headlong into the joy current,
nestled in bliss, our native element.
Religion valid, yet binds and confines,
following rules, ancient scripture assigns,
more oft than not, labelling their heaven,
whilst the nameless hermit, with love aligns,
igniting within form, chakras seven.
03-October-2021
Difference in opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsor: LN Shreya
-to my mom... inspired by Nathan Fehr-
I have to forgive you
For what you have done
For what you didn’t do
For leaving me in gloom
Leaving us all wondering
If you would ever return
I have to forgive you
Because you can smile away everything
Because we need you
And love you
Sometimes I know
That you would have stayed
If it weren’t for God’s intervention
You would have stayed with him
If you hadn’t been thrown out
And abandoned
We were your last resort
I understand
I do
But that doesn’t mean I am not hurt
I forgive you
For the worst and for the best
We are blessed
To have you back
Though we will never truly understand
What made you leave us all behind
I guess you really loved him
The loveless … I understand
You wanted to make someone happy
You wanted to fill that empty void
But by doing so
Others had to suffer
But you didn’t want us to suffer
You were just tired of it
Tired of doing everything
We were your last resort
We were abandoned
And you returned
With open arms
And tears of bitter sweetness
I have come to forgive you
Because if I don’t
There you will go again
Freed skyline pigeon
And I love you
So much
Please don't leave us
Let your wings rest
George O'l boy, what DO you say?
Great day for an old game today?
Washings done and the chores are too,
So shall we have a play, for what's true?
"I like your shiny clean apron..."
"I like your shiny red car..."
"Shall I drive the rug dear, to a star"?
"Take the short road, the Long one's far..."
"It's technically a pigeon not a hen"
"It's technically a now knot then"
"Know, it's technically a girl at bat, with a Pen."
"And that's technically, players, 10."
"Gentlemen."
So let me ask you... how many types of
people ARE there in this world...?
It doesn't matter, we all know binary...
Write?
Know? Well, then in decimal we'll go.
It's all the same on stage and in show,
One actor there in many sets of clothes.
"...and swhich one are two..."
Form:
Sitting on the peak of mountain, whose face
frequently I see; walking with my beloved
on the streets of Rome, whose words I remember;
like a pet pigeon, to whom my heart and body
come back when the sun sets; setting whose eyes
into my eyes, I see the beauty of a yellow bird
and seeing the prosaic fly of crow and shalik
I get every day speechless both in joy and wonder-
she is my Bangladesh, as dearest to me as water for thirst
at a noon of Chaitra; in a winter-morning she is my shawl
of Kashmir, my safe home during a storm and rain, and the sail
of my good luck upstream swelling like a tandur-bread.
Writing my name on that sail, I, the last boatman of century,
have started rowing my boat laying stake to life.
*shalik- a kind of bird * tandur- a kind of big bread
Smaller in stature, yet they are pigeons,
Not as colorful, but still gray, white, brown.
While pigeons thrive in cities, doves love woods,
Though both belong within the same bird line.
The symbol of peace, love, and purity,
Never regarded as pests like the pigeons.
They never dwell near filth nor in clutter,
So doves are welcomed more in human hands.
Timid, reserved, and forming smaller flocks,
Their cooing softer, sweetly resonant.
They show elaborate courtship in dance,
With flight more agile, graceful, and refined.
Unlike the pigeons, bold and unafraid,
A dove will flee before it stands its ground.
Yet still, it finds its way through storm and sky,
A creature born for silence, peace, and grace.
The air smelled clean, with a TANG of the sea.
Stay clear of the favorite snuggling.
I'm sure he's scared of anything.
I'm sure they had fun EVENTIDE.
She used CRIMPED lace to alter the look visually.
There are some concerns of the FERAL topic.
So, how can HOWLING be reduced?
I believe she will put on the cowling.
She is, on a different side, a gentle PLUMB.
She is admired when sitting abroad.
She appears to be in the PEARLESCENT market.
It was the THRUM of magic inside her.
That was the thing that scared her the most.
The pigeon has a lot of fun chasing alleluias.
Particularly one that ends with hallelujah.
The silent mouse makes the darling shiver.
He wants to leave, but she wants to stay.
Written: April 4, 2021
Eight-word Bardenesque challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Never argue with a narcissist. You will never win.
You are better off playing chess with a filthy pigeon.
Never argue with a narcissist, even when you are in the right.
They will twist your words around and try to start a fight.
Never argue with a narcissist, it isn't worth the stress.
They will turn around and blame you when they are the ones
who made the mess.
When they know you see through them, they will fear exposure.
That is when they dump you, don't try to seek closure.
Never underestimate what goes on in their sick twisted brain.
They will lie and gaslight you and make you think you are insane.
Don't confront their bad behavior, I know this may seem hard.
Don't show the hurt and anger you feel about their discard.
Never give your narcissist, your precious time of day.
The only way you will win with them is to just not play.
They will never take accountability, so please take my advice.
If you play stupid games with a narcissist, you win a stupid prize.
In the height
and solitude of the mountains,
in the cold and hard wind,
the Eagle
with his eyes
looking on the valleys and rivers
for a new prey,
saw birds flying
and children to play
and a lot of joy…
In his prayers,
as a single Eagle
he asked the God
to make him a Pigeon too…
and the prayer was granted
He came down
from the frozen mountain
in the valley
among the birds.
He found a Pigeon girl
and with she
had many children
that played
every day
under the blue sky…
One day,
an Eagle
came down from the cold mountain
and hunted him…
In his prayer
with his last breaths,
he thanked the God
for giving him the HAPPINESS
to be… as much as it was meant to be…
a Pigeon…