Long Plainest Poems
Long Plainest Poems. Below are the most popular long Plainest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plainest poems by poem length and keyword.
Rejoice, the soul is alive
The sight of star-spangled skies if at night
Drench you deep with wonderment of a child,
And that of dark skies, with the same delight,
And if this unknown joy be no less wild;
If a blade of grass springing up in field,
And a bud blossoming into young flower,
Both move you no less still with untold power;
If age has none of your child’s wonder killed;
If nature’s plainest things pose a message
That lingers long in your memories piled,
If your child lives young still with passing age,
At no time are his wonders reconciled;
File up all reasons and stay ever naïve,
Divide your age by a factor of five,
Rejoice; your soul and child both are alive!
_______________________________________
In child-like eagerness this sonnet allows itself one extra line.
From my book Harvest of the Late Season,
published by Penguin (Partridge)
Sonnets | 15.12.14 |
I look around me walking down the street
on warm May days, and flowers I can see.
So many lovelies – for my eyes a treat.
But they are not all in my memory
engrained, so how they look I can’t define
as well as flowers that I see each year -
like those that bloom right now, which are divine.
They are my roses, and for me so dear.
My teacup roses have a dark pink hue
while almost all my other roses are
dark red, but towering in plainest view
is one that has just bloomed – my super star -
the “Blue” whose color violet is rare.
I love to stand in front of her and stare!
May 20, 2021
For Brian Strand's All Yours (Jun 10) Poetry Contest
can you imagine yourself a young girl from Nighastan?
who is thirteen, and never stepped foot in regular school?
toiling day and night, taking care of siblings and housework,
her smile reminds of fresh-bloomed rose, no cameras capture.
can you imagine yourself a young boy from Labonga,
works in a factory for hours and hours since he was eight?
he is still respectful and humble, polite and thankful,
happy as a lark if sometimes he gets to fly a kite.
wish we were supremely gorgeous princes and princesses,
wearing sparkling gucci outfits, flying in private jets -
(talking how to support the poverty-stricken third world)
we watch their lavish weddings, their destination travels,
and secretly sigh for extravagant life we don't have!
met some of those amazingly courageous boys and girls,
who do not complain about their uneventful tough lives,
they accept their hardest journey with humble compliance -
thank god sincerely for their meager plainest possessions!
I imagine - if I had the power to change the world,
I would make their world blissful. surrounded by purest joy,
I would hold her dainty hand, and pore over fairy tales,
I would run without bounds in the open field with the boy.
those children would teach me to be grateful with simplest things,
and to smile joyful smile which nobody can ever snatch.
Poet's Notes: The poem is written on the model of Shakesperean sonnet (14 syllables in each line - exception being there are four Quatrains instead of three).
January 23, 2021
For "Can You Imagine" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
I know if I could ever reach you,
i'd come to say I'd love to meet you...
In the days that lie beneath the open face,
in the simplest ways we live in our craze-
and the wildest braves...
They take up our maze,
and say to this-
to have no worries
or heartaches belonging,
no trendy tripping,
or grizzlies existing-
we may wonder aloud,
and take stake in each other,
even the faintest pictures of ourselves-
of the goal,
to bind with the sacred,
or even to just smile...
Because I know that if I could ever reach you,
I'd come to say I'd love to meet you...
In the plainest most original redemption song,
we'd never leave you behind as even a token-
printed with ancient words.
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind...
I know not where I'm headed to,
the sage's advice, my only clue :
"Enlightenment is now in your hands,
take much heed when you let it land..."
One magic rock was crimson blood,
turned fiery hot when it glowed--
I could not help but drop it,
the ground it struck was lit
The flames began to form images,
of war, of humanity enraged,
showed what happened when anger ruled,
when greed turned men to fools
The second rock was pearly white,
turned ice cold when its light died,
my hand stung, and so I let it fall,
rippling the lake, and I was enthralled...
Distorted images came to view,
of moralities askewed,
it chilled my soul to realize
this world has been desensitized
The last rock, alas was bleak and grey,
rough in my hands where it lay...
I wondered what other horrors it had in store,
so I knelt on my knees and prayed to the Lord...
I sought for forgiveness, for times gone astray,
asked for strength and courage, to find the way...
thanked Him for all the blessings I often neglect,
then ended with praises, and a genuflect
I unclasped my hands, the grey rock slipped below
it landed with a soft thud, then it started to glow
It showed me a place where three crosses stood,
then it was clear to me, I fully understood...
The plainest rock was the most precious one,
a silent witness on that fateful day
when the Son's blood was shed, so we can all be saved.
**The first three lines are not my own, but that of Constance La France's...
The flower and the bee are miracle signs.
To last forever when the spirit aligns.
The summer is abuzz with all of the fun.
A day to remember when love was outdone.
The most perfect design that holds the powers.
In the soft bosom found of gentle flowers.
Upon the summit of the holy mountain.
Flows our happiness from a godly fountain.
The masters of being steal the cosmic show.
Sending cool respite or brimstone and coal.
Redemption slips away fear fills the still air.
The crowd standing breathless with a frozen stare.
Then in the plainest sight the truth could be seen.
But in our dark vision we thought it a dream.
For life is not made fair it gives and it takes.
We chaulk up the sorrows and call it the breaks.
To find your destiny seek the promised land.
For all man's empires soon turn back to sand.
Standing there next to you the one that you seek.
The promise that you made was you wouldn't peek!
Fishing through any needy soul
For God's only purpose
We search for the goal
On Hideous bible planes we reach
And love and learn and
Cry and teach
We are far gone
In whiskey and gin
strangers long for
Sweet brandy and sin
But strong we love and
That love we hate,
Pulls us nearer to our
Ultimate fate.
Planet revolves
And our plainest desires
In pitiful wishes
And missing requires,
Dedication and plunder
At once and in sync
For the loss of a soul,
For the want of a drink
In mystical whisps
Our features do curdle
Like grapes on a vine
For some winter infertile.
Pictures of boys
In centuries dated
Clapping beats of high praise
To the tune ne'er created .
The spinning of years,
On calendars pasted
On years and of joys
On days smudged and wasted,
In seventeen years
We turn sixty nine
Clicking our throbbing
Heartbeats, molesting our crimes.
In our necks we slouch South
to find our straight spine
That we mortgaged for
Cocaine, marijuana and wine.
Be you Irish or English
Italian or Jew
Or Spanish, or Polish
Or mongrel or Shrew:
Neither time nor your will
Nor pleading or sob,
Can save you from payment
Of not completing your job.
Let dead rocks of reason lie on the way,
Let all logic, all do's and don'ts lie still,
The rules of grammar gathered yesterday,
Of metre and foot, let them let-down feel
If lines river-like flow to move ahead,
Let melody get born with utter poise,
Let lilting lines listen to inner voice,
O to flow ahead—heart-over-head led.
In purest form and the plainest by far,
Like a perennial stream flows a poem,
Each line a starlet shoring up the star,
And sparkling like rarest of studded gem!
And crafted, caressing the created—
A call of heart passing baton to head!
_____________________________________________ _________
A poem flows like a river. The head with its do's and don'ts plays the role of rocks blocking river's flow. But the river finds its way still and music is born. A poem is always a product of heart to start with. The heart has reasons unknown to head. A stage still comes when head slowly takes over as there is no escape from it. Yet, creativity comes from the chaos created by heart— the source of all poems!
08.03.2020
Heart Truth
Contest Judged: 8/9/2020
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Winner: FIRST PLACE
Good and evil intertwine,
In body, soul, and mind divine.
Demon star and angel glow—
Which one are you? Do you know?
Good and evil, seldom clear,
Judged by others, praised or feared.
For even saints, when darkness creeps,
May hide the demons that they keep.
The darkness kept in plainest sight,
It creeps beneath the shining light.
What mask we wear, we’ll never know,
Are you friend—or are you foe?
Only time shall tell us so.
When the facade cracks and all things decay,
What shows the truest way?
Virtue of heaven, bright and clear,
Or sins of hell, bold and feared?
All things reviewed by the mirror’s core,
Revealing who we truly are, evermore.