Long Plethora Poems
Long Plethora Poems. Below are the most popular long Plethora by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plethora poems by poem length and keyword.
A tepid breeze delicately descends,
embedding a sphere of embers engulfed in saffron flames,
but intrinsic illuminations cannot soothe somber sorrows.
Splashes of persimmon and periwinkle horizons,
turn indigo, before twilight disappears into ebony hues.
Nocturnal pondering drifts to magical memories.
In the middle of the night,
when butterflies dance to the moon's song.
A plethora of elegance surrounds,
as a million fireflies prepare a path of crystal fragility.
Fate has little sympathy for forgotten symphonies.
In the mysterious music of tonight,
pearl in the sky reflects in scarlet shades,
moonlight shimmers like blood on distant tides.
Strings of sorrow serenade in stentorious stings.
melancholic mind moves like a funeral march,
yearning for veiled daylight behind mute mists.
There is an ache in absence,
a despair in distance -
reflected through lamenting eyes.
If only we could smash this cocoon,
that prevents us from floating free -
but majestic chic wings remain in chains.
My lips are like velvet petals,
forming the grandest golden sunflower,
confined behind onyx structures of frailty,
vulnerably yearning to be healed,
by tender rosewater kisses.
Painful palpitations from a pomegranate heart,
bleed in bitter shades of black.
A hollowness only separated souls silently sense.
Hope can be hidden behind
a canopy of Cimmerian clouds.
To create a rainbow,
love requires sun rays and rain drops.
To weave an eternal pattern,
where beloveds ascend in peace and harmony -
forever.
I was beyond bereft!
With very little money, sure, we had a small place.
But no cash nor tree nor presents nor food were to
be.
I cried a lot, so did my daughter.
I prayed very hard for some kind of answer.
Then I recalled "Operation Blessing"!
They wanted a complete list of what I needed.
It was long indeed, including a tree, a turkey, food
for an empty pantry,and toys for my daughter.
They told me to trust God and stop my crying.
It was a relief for me to know I was trying.
There was no plethora of jobs, then, as there are now.
Nor were lowest income earners having an 8% increase
hidden by the media mogul cows
And we were in a recession, then.
"Operation Blessing" came to our humble place.
I had been truly blessed by God's holy grace.
First they brought in a six foot,live, fully decorated tree!
In my daughter's eyes, I saw such happiness and glee!
The turkey was a Tom, hence more than generous.
All the trimmings, too. Plus other foods to fill my barren
kitchen cabinets.
Toys came next, plentiful,all beautifully wrapped.
My hopelessness disappeared knowing the world is so
generous and way far from crass.
Many organizations are doing good this season,
After all there is a reason!
People are cooking for the homeless all day across this
wonderful nation. Shelters are open.
Groups are cleaning up tent cities!!
Oh, no! Forbidden for you to know.
The painting of rich crushing the poor,
Is the center of the political boors.
Do what we can in money or in person!
Christmas is about His love, His birth.
Share your time and care and love with those who may
have less.
I learned that Christmas, to be humble and stop complaining!
To do for others, to tithe, to contribute.
To be grateful for what little I had.
And to ask when I needed help.
There are seniors living in nursing homes, go visit them,
their relatives won't!
How about badly wounded veterans, who lost limbs for you?
Can you spare them an hour or two?
Make this Christmas not about you.
It's a transformational experience,
I promise you!
December 10, 2019
Donald Trump, Lemony Snicket ghost Spiro
Agnew, plus knowledgeable Jiminy Cricket,
all reliable, trustworthy sources, who
would never misinform gullible traveler
I know time to lather up
with poetic shampoo
so don't you dare ballyhoo
moost likely known
to garden variety wahoo
(When You Wish Upon a Star goo
whee lyrics aside...), particularly
following feedback haint "FAKE,"
just like this tattoo
on each posterior cheek
helping move doo doo
i.e. private business,
anyway pardon loo
pee wordplay, now lemme continue
though ye would would
much prefer I bid thee adieu,
ham back from the house of Pooh
ready with toilet trees
to vend off voodoo
intending to remain forthright to
finish explaining courtesy
regarding resultant google Moo
choe reputable homepage
search query... hallooo
thankfully helped rescue
me bogged down in Waterloo
curious about... any clue?
Yepper, what sound
do crickets make?
plus other esoteric tidbits to slake
thirst for aspiring entomologist
(may even know gossip where ache
key breaky hearts quake
'bout Josh and Drake)
yielded plethora web newpages
mainly concerning former,
whereat bottom cricket
wing covered teeth-
like ridges make
rough surface, and upper surface
of infinitesimal gliding anatomical feature
functions like scraper, hence rubbing
respective parts together doth create
chirping (“stridulating") soundcloud.
She is the reigning queen of poetry soup
Producing a plethora of poems at will as from a mill
Children or adults, she fits into every group
A woman of childlike innocence and goodwill
Though her poems cannot be ranked first rate
They flow smoothly with ease, and never need edit
Hardly enters a contest but has written everyday till date
And she has thousands of poems to her credit
Her world is populated with fairies and elves
Thus endearing herself to all children
For whom she works and they closely follow her heels
With a fiery passion for poetry, she is driven
This poetess from the United States
Resides in a world of fairy tales and fable
With flair, umpteen poems she creates
And joyously wears a poet’s illustrious label
Her poems are peppered with a pinch of humour
She is warm and genial, seemingly untouched by strife
Driven by distance, all I can do is to pray for her bright future
And wish her many more years of creative life
(Wrote for Paean on Poets Poetry Contest
without knowing that its form should be limerick)
In honor of our new baby blooms, you are cordially invited to our annual tea. This year we are serving a plethora of herbals, for your sipping pleasure: Peppermint pep, Chamomile comfort, Rose repose, are among them.
This year we are serving the local honey with lavender and lemon (optional); it will relax you to promote your
tea-time bliss.
We also have a poet for your entertainment, as one of the Poppies has penned, quite a bit of wit!
Cinnamon and ginger have graciously volunteered; to regale you with some spicy stories.
The Vanilla beans have baked some wondrous sugar cookies;
they’ll surely delight your palate.
We’ll be decorating with morning glory vines and aromatic, tea roses; It’s only appropriate.
Come one, come all and gather with us; for some flowery delights, herbal and tasty cups of tea.
RSVP to Snapdragons by March 1st.
Particularly pronounce abscess,
when rites of spring accursedness
prevails, asper testament, sans swell
scored psychological achiness
recording minecrafted history,
viz secreting acridness
permeates profusely predicated puberty,
akin to ambling au naturale adulteress
plethora plush plumage plus perfume
presage prickly profuse inauspicious pre/
post pubescent and adult affectlessness
propensity poisons primary predilection
pummeling poking pillorying
perpetual purgatory with aggressiveness.
Now translated into bumpy
layman's/woman's terms, aye
communicate, albeit stylishly campy
adhering, colluding, and choppily try
trending without trademark obfuscation,
nonetheless, a feeble
attempt might still defy,
an honest to dog ambition to express
how blooming in the dales less
sons glee aware, how lovers press
lips close together, when yours truly
shuttered himself in bedroom
of boyhood home to cope with stress
thus denying, depriving,
and destroying bone
a fied hankering,
asper this pooch hood doth hone
ache, never to experience puppy love
til pooch later in life,
when he became at present
male version, sans crone
revisiting, reliving, and
reflecting being alone
without ever touching, savoring,
and rubbing smooth cheekbone
of a lass - see, this thy reason
Matthew Scott doth bemoan
observing young bucks,
who liberate kickstarter jangling hormone
he oozes with envy those whippersnappers
gathering rosebuds while they may intone
enjoyment, qua the vitality, virility, and victory
before youth fleetingly passes versus millstone
weighing heavier with each passing year
before the grim reaper doth phone!
Line of inquiry:
“Of the fact we are alive, we are sure
All else scriptures say, may or may not be
So presence vibrant, heart pure and demure
As formless awareness we become free”
The embodiment of our unique existence,
life is the construct of transient elements
that align in the plethora of perishable patterns
within the mundane entity of the living body.
The miasma of surreal trance envelops the perception
by the fleeting swathe of the eternal time.
With the multi-colored strands of possessive passion
the mystique mind weaves the tapestry of thoughts.
The swirling currents of the vibrant mind
then find the course of introspection to the absolute
through the layers of divine consciousness
that illumines the drape of the self-designed acuity.
Across the multi-layered receptive mind,
the sense of existence vibrates at the inner depth
where awareness configures the essence of freedom,
reflecting the sedate splendor of the pristine heart.
The existential epithet of heavenly epiphany
adorns the bejeweled crown of the sensuous psyche.
The sanctified soul shines in the spiritual glow,
reflecting the patina of the selfless lotus of love.
Garden Roots
Drawn by the feeder, seeds like a silo, the colorful and small birds, landing and perching, not too close, skittish and scared. The tree of life with a plethora of branches. A tiny bonsai forest designed for fairies and microscopic wildlife. Butterflies trapped inside a house-size net, landing so gently the hairs on my flesh cannot feel the sensation. The garden ever changing and I with it,
as I tread upon its sacred ground. Soaked by sun, rain or cold from snow, the garden with outstretched arms.
bellicose bouquet
branded by beauty stirs weeds
— pulled up by their roots
6/7/2018
Mick Talbot’s haibun contest
My fellow pilgrims on life’s path,
I greet you here today
To share a tale of gratitude
For help along our way.
Our best route is the straightest path,
And narrow from the gate.
But most of us went crashing through
As though we couldn’t wait
To see the things in store for us,
The sights that life would bring,
Not knowing that the track is steep
And dangers wait to sting.
A plethora of vistas wait
For those with eyes to see
But fog can sometimes block our view
As daylight starts to flee.
It’s in these dark and tricky parts
Where angels come to play,
With lanterns born above their gaze
To light the hidden way.
And when we pass beyond their light,
Another’s overlaps,
Until we’ve reached the sun again
And crossed the risky gaps.
These angels are but humble souls;
A neighbor down the road
Who walks their path with righteous steps,
And shoulders others’ load.
God bless these lantern bearers!
Without them I’d be lost
And never find my way back home
Despite the distance crossed.
Choosing a favorite President is quite an arduous task
Given that most politicians usually wear a spurious mask,
but as a student of History, there was one that I admired;
" the scrappy kid from Kansas."* So many he has inspired.
In his biography there's a plethora of interesting information.
'Ike" was a 5 star general, besides leading this great nation.
A war hero, selected to be America's Commander and Chief.
A man of great integrity, who did not cause his country grief.
In his honor, a Washington Memorial was dedicated.
His bravery in war, and acts as President are celebrated.
After the war, he commanded European NATO forces
and overthrew communism from it's evil courses.
Voted U. S. President in 1952, with the slogan, "I Like Ike,"
Richard Nixon was his running mate; they were nothing alike.
In two terms served, he created a grand legacy for his name.
A President for the people, to him the office was not a game.
There are many valuable quotes that Eisenhower left behind
and I'll end with a few that I feel worthy for us to keep in mind;
none more appropriate than this one, I was happy to find...
"Some day there is going to be a man sitting in my present chair who has not been raised in the military services and who will have little understanding of where slashes in their estimates can be made with little or no damage. If that should happen while we still have the state of tension that now exists in the world, I shudder to think of what could happen in this country."
"The middle of the road is all of the usable surface. The extremes, right and left, are in the gutters."
"Leadership consists of nothing but taking responsibility for everything that goes wrong and giving your subordinates credit for everything that goes well."
"If a political party does not have its foundation in the determination to advance a cause that is right and that is moral, then it is not a political party; it is merely a conspiracy to seize power."
February 11, 2021
Your Favorite President Contest
Sponsored by: L Milton Hankins
*Inscribed on the Eisenhower Memorial