Long Plum Poems
Long Plum Poems. Below are the most popular long Plum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plum poems by poem length and keyword.
Such throaty timbres – oboes and bassoons –
such gowns! My Lady, apricot and plum,
her sleeves ablaze with blue October moons –
for one short night, her villa had become
the very essence of elysium!
To “fortify” us, as My Lady said,
against the winter tedium to come,
to banish melancholy, drive out dread,
she threw an Autumn Ball. Delirium!
We met the equinox with pipe and drum.
The quality of Florence all attended,
and never were Their Graces better fed!
The sun was up before our revels ended –
and Isabella? Still no thought of bed!
Three further galliards she’d yet to tread.
It seems I hear those trumpets even yet,
and taste the sweetmeats of that epic spread
(she’d plied us with light moscatel to whet
the palate) – I believe my mortal head
will throb for ever more, autumnal red!
In the bamboo grove where sunbeams gently shine,
Emerald leaves glisten, a vibrant lifeline,
Through bamboo's pores, the wind's sweet serenade,
Melodious music in the grove is made.
Parrots, cuckoos, and mania birds take flight,
In this colorful haven, they find their delight,
Bamboo's lesson, in the storm, it does convey,
Strength and flexibility on a gusty day.
Survival's idol, in harsh weather's embrace,
Bamboo bows gracefully, offers its space,
To sprouts that flourish in its fading light,
A testament to life's unyielding might.
By night, the bamboo grove takes on its charm,
Moonlight through leaves, casting a tranquil psalm,
In the heart of romance, trees gently sway,
Knots become ladders to love's higher way.
Plum blossoms under the moon's silvery gaze,
Eternal lovers, through endless nights and days,
Trees stand tall, branches shelter blossoms pink,
In this grove, friendships and fortunes link.
Finally the hot air gives place in the first rain
The summer lawn is soaked under a drippy layer
The rainfall plunks down the petals of flowers
Along the fences, some green bushes sustain
Apple, cherry and plum leaves prepare to fall
String bean, peas and cucumber vines droop
Green onion, garlic and parsley begin to stoop
The September heat swings by mountain squall
The bald high peaks scattered by early snow
At dawn the tops are covered with baby flour
That transforms into snowy clouds within hours
It is the sign to say goodbye to summer glow
The rains painted the colorful mountain forest
Decorated with red, yellow, golden and orange
Unlike the evergreen forest of my native land
Then colorful view become white like the crests
Mountain rain and view reveal natural creation
The fiery summer air has to fall and farewell
Then autumn and winter succeed to ring the bell
Man’s physical and moral change every season
Are you there? I can hear your silence
As it rips apart all of me…all of me…
Are you there? I need some deliverance
As I fall apart by the seams frankly
Am I lost? Why must I go through so much stress?
I am making sheer progress by deleting hopelessness
I am sorry that I hurt you so…hurt you so…
I am sorry that I have to let go…let you go…
I have become dumb…
I drink sorrow’s rum…
I am reduced to this bread crumb…
I will be strong like titanium
I will be strong and ripened like a sweet, beautiful plum
Are you there? I can hear your footsteps
As it rings in my ears and rings a bell…you caress me again
Your lips quiver against my own
As if you loved me long ago – does it still show?
Are you there? I can hear your silence
As it rips apart all of me…all of me…
Are you there? I need some deliverance
As I fall apart by the seams frankly
Benevolence and perseverance –
They are all in my throbbing head of dread
You are truly in my remembrance
I need some happiness and cheer instead
I am left so uncertain for infinity years
I am left broken with many fallen tears
Am I lost? Why must I go through your agony and worries?
I am making sheer progress as I walk to and fro in the breeze
Mirabelle orb ascends,
under clementine and pomegranate skies.
Absent,
in delight of daylight.
Eyes set adrift in dawning daydreams.
Calm heart is an oceanic concerto,
flowing along sapphire tones.
Deep breaths walk upon water,
caressed by Poseidon's piano keys.
Pulsating palpitations beat eloquent echoes,
rousing freely along rhythmical ripples.
Searching for symphonic serenity -
composition of waves, amicably,
pave a path towards destiny.
Hope vibrates like Apollos's lyre and lute strings,
as winds whistle lost tunes from Athena's flute.
Melodies of the silent sea summon torpid tides,
as desire merges in harmony with the harbour -
passionately embracing barren shores.
Aroma of dusk's dew cools in night's velvet sheen,
as sinking sun is submerged into the deep blue sea.
Sprinkling of pearls appear - their reflection
shimmering upon watery midnight blue stillness.
In silent clarity of blackness,
flowing footfalls of fate purify -
awakening mind from its reverie.
The Silent One
6 September 2020
Mirabelle - a plum, also known as mirabelle prune or cherry plum, is a cultivar group of plum trees of the genus Prunus. It is believed that the plum was cultivated from a wild fruit grown in Anatolia.
Poseidon, in ancient Greek religion, god of the sea (and of water generally), earthquakes, and horses.
Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. His two musical instruments were the lute and the lyre.
Athena was a talented flute player, as she created it, but others ridiculed her when she played due to her cheeks. In disgust, she threw away the flute and said whoever picked it up and played it would be severely punished.
The once crowded beach is now deserted
Not a sandcastle or deckchair is in sight
The golden sands lay pristine
Blue waves gently lapping the shore
Summer sun sets low in the evening sky
Plum, lilac, pinks and orange hues
Paint the sky like an artists brush
Night falls quickly with a deathly hush
Autumn leaves now crunch under our feet
Painting the pavement with brown and gold tones
The trees stripped bare and vulnerable
Skeleton like twigs reveal their naked beauty
The colder nights are drawing in
With a biting chill in the autumn air
Snuggled up in our winter coats
Hats scarves and gloves our constant friends
08~29~14
Contest: Summer’s End
Sponsored by Kelly Deschler
Some focus on hair, on legs, on muscles or on lips
on feet, on shoulders, on arms or on hips
Yet though you may think it a bit odd or dumb
my sole focus here will be on the thumb
Is the thumb worthy of a rigorous dissection like this?
I'll let you be the judge of that in the final analysis...
The thumb, of course, is what makes us primates
same as black and white stripes make men inmates
Speaking of distinction, the thumb's what babies suck
and just you try from a babe's mouth that thumb to pluck!
When gardening it sure pays to have a thumb that is green
while a handyman who's all thumbs is regularly demeaned
Then there are 'rules of thumb' based on real-life experience
casting out hypotheses, guesses, and other such interference
Remember 'Tom thumb,' the tiny man once swallowed by a cow?
King Arthur's favorite, he even tangled with giants - O, wow!
Such a graceful dancer was Hans Christian Anderson's 'Thumbelina'
He could just as well have made her into a prima ballerina
I mustn't leave out Little Jackie Horner who famously
stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum!
And for those of you who like music some
Imagine a guitar strummed without a thumb
So, in closing, to conclude, to summarize, in summary, in sum
Just when was the last time your thumb went numb?!
Good morning, Spring.
I saw you yesterday for the first time in 2024.
I did not know how long you had been standing
there. My wife saw you sometime before I did
but failed to inform me.
Honestly, Spring, although it is unseasonably
warm where we live, I did not expect to see
you in February.
Anyway, you are always beautiful and so full
of life, and yesterday was no exception. You
were pretty and pink in the peach tree, and
greenish with a tiny bit of white in the plum
trees, but the pear and pecan trees as well
as the crape myrtle trees were not ready for
your touch of Spring.
Oh, Spring, I hope you don't get hit this year
with a late spring freeze. That could change
everything.
It was great seeing you, my friend. I look forward
to many more of your great displays and beautiful
scenery. Until then, my dear Spring friend.
022824PS.
#YO! MY SOUL ACHES IN LONGING FOR MORE INSTRUMENTATION THAT MASSAGES, SOOTHES AND BRINGS A SPECIAL SOLACE THAT I NEED...
THIS IS WHAT "ADRIAN'S THEME" BRINGS TO ME!
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND IMAGINE, DIVING INTO A WARM SEA ENCOUNTERING IMAGES OF VIVID COLORED CORAL AND ROCK...
PLUM/ORANGE/TURQUOISE & BLACKBERRY. AS WELL, A NEWLY DISCOVERED HUE POPS OUT IN THIS TERRITORY, OH SUCH ENVELOPING GLORY! AWAKENINGS YOU'VE NEVER KNEW EXISTED IN THIS STORY...
YOU SEE SEALIFE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE, BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! ! !
IN THIS IMAGINATION, YOU'RE ABLE TO BREATHE, SLOWLY EXPLORE, TO TRULY LET YOURSELF GO! IN THE MIDST, YOU HEAR YOUR FAVORITE INSTRUMENTATION...
THIS ARRANGEMENT BRINGS YOU AN OUT OF BODY SENSATION, AND ITS A
B L I S S YOU'D NEVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE! ! !
THE CHORDS AND NOTES TAKES YOU ON A JOURNEY "JUST FOR YOU" AND THIS IMMERSION OF SOUND AND SOLACE IS SO STUPENDOUS...THAT YOU NEVER WANT IT TO END. IT FEELS SO PHENOMENAL AND YOUR ELATION IS LATER REPORTED AS JUST TREMENDOUS! "HOW WONDROUS!!!"
ANYTIME AN INSTRUMENTAL GIFT, WHERE WORDS ARE SILENCED BUT OUR SPIRIT IS SPEAKING OUT, CRYING OUT...
FEED ME! LEAD ME! PROCEED WITH ME!
NOTHING ELSE CAN QUENCH MY THIRST THE WAY YOU MUSICALLY HAVE HYDRATED MY DRIEST, DEEPEST, DEPTHS OF ME!
NOTHING CAN COMPARE TO THEE, IT'S A SATURATION OF SUPERB IMMENSITY!
IT'S REACHED SPIRITUAL LISTENING...
AND THIS IS MY TRIBUTE TO A DEEP DIVE, UNKNOWN PARTS OF ME CAME ALIVE...
"ADRIAN'S THEME" PLEASE TAKE A LISTEN, IT'S SUPREME! I UNDERSTAND MUSIC IS SUBJECTIVE...
HOWEVER,
WHATEVER YOUR SONG OF CHOICE, WITH OR WITHOUT VOICE...
LET ME KNOW, WHAT IS Y O U R SPIRITUAL LISTENING AND ANSWERING* ELECTIVE?
YO! "I'D REALLY APPRECIATE TO KNOW!"
MEANWHILE, I'M GOING BACK DEEP DIVING, EACH TIME IS A NEW EXPERIENCE AND TAKEAWAY, NOTHING CAN MATCH SUCH A PERSONAL V I B I N G...
IT'S AN UNFORGETTABLE DESCRIBING!
INDEED.
Renee D Gross {GHPPR} October 19, 2023#
Her wings are sublime, fluttering about,
From blue to an indigo plum,
Filling her world with a delicate shade,
Filling the void with her hum,
Then she lands on her perch, her small wooden perch,
She sits with an unblinking gaze,
And looks to the world that she could’ve loved,
To the forests and beaches and waves,
But her mirror tells the story to her every day,
Her mirror shows the maid she became,
With the cage in her head jailing this bird,
Imprisoning her will and her name,
And nobody knows she’s a beautiful bird,
Locked up for the rest of her life,
To everyone she’s the tame predictable one,
The mother, the maid, she’s the wife.
Written for Silent Ones contest "One last tear". Written and published on 4th February 2019.
Ranked 2nd