Long Potpourri Poems
Long Potpourri Poems. Below are the most popular long Potpourri by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Potpourri poems by poem length and keyword.
Crows, bats, witches, haunted houses, goblins, ghosts and me
Pumpkin bread, corn pudding, warm caramel apples my way.
Delicate intricate spider webs between my house and garage.
Holding me in a delighted way on an October day.
Stringy gooey gritty globs of pumpkin slosh on my hands.
As I help squealing jack-0-lantern creators scrape.
Laughter of children coming in waves from leave piles.
Husband screaming at the referee calling him an ape.
Fluffy tailed squirrels chastising each other over walnuts.
Screeching if they think another squirrel has gotten a bit more.
Solid cinnamon roll smells wafting in from my happy oven.
Maize on porch, beside gourds of various colors next to door.
Autumn is here in all her glory, showing us the colors we expect.
Luxurious reds, yellows, browns and oranges showing up in droves.
Cardinal songbirds twitter and trill their announcement of winter.
Magic of fall showing up in pumpkin potpourri and smells of cloves.
Written 10-07-2019
Contest: Give Me Your Best Poem
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
PINNACLE
With a piggyback of hopes and dreams, I set forth to reach a peak.
Along bed of roses, rocks and tall sharp weeds, I harvested golden grains of progress. The days and nights rang a wake-up kiss on my head. They told me: "Move on, move on...Don't ever give up..."
There are rainy days on the way. A rain shower teased my climb halting me for awhile. Some so strong, I faltered - gained some wounds. Some directly stabbed my heart. And somehow, sometimes they even knocked my very soul. Although tough thunder tremors shook me, I fought hard to stand still continuing my climb.
Each height I step onto, I came to know moon and stars. Some of them began a war with me. Some of them a veil of fraud. But blessing, most have shed a continuing guiding light. Some hugged me. And wanted me to stay but some pushed and pressured me until I am all like a dripping sponge.
The potpourri situations brought me: a ladder closer to our God. His faithfulness and unfailing love a durable adhesive to my persistence and dreams.
A rainbow after each rain drew a promise of sun-kissed days. They melted the cold lonely years away. They permitted me a walk and run to heavenly meadows. Finally, I reached the pinnacle where grins a forever familiar tale.
(c) Olive Eloisa
2:07pm
October 01. 2012
by late dusk, I commune with the fresh wonders of nature
inhabiting reverence from a well-designed woodland.
how an avian rhapsody greets me through mellow chants
where comfort of quiet soothes tired soul in this lined woodland.
and potpourri of blossoms, grass, and redstones breathes in me
creating divine linkage... one with a refined woodland.
laying on its tapestry, new stars glint behind pampas
as vault of luster reels unto an unconfined woodland
lo! rustle of twigs through winds’ hum is felt only here
that I step outside myself in bliss of enshrined woodland.
whatever mystery lies in this realm, I’ll never know
still, air imbues dignity upon undefined woodland.
hesitant to leave this sweet home which gifts me inner peace
I grasp varnished rocks… cuddling a part of my kind woodland.
*
Ghazal Poetry Contest of Silent One
9/11/2020
our Spring was a whirlwind of newness
learning our emotions
exploring the worlds we were
that had left their long-held orbits
as we began a dance among the stars
in each other's arms spinning thru galaxies
never losing the gravity in each other's eyes
we then burst into the fullness of Summer
idle days as companions upon a trail
each step brought us deeper into fruition
a fullness of an accrued life
we had reaped the orchards offerings
swung the scythe in union
as fields of wants and needs were harvested
now we sit on a bench
as everything begins to come to rest
it is our Autumn
holding your hand, the age spots
are now a part of what was pure alabaster
still, the precious cup
my cheek holds in reverence
when you guide my gaze into yours
the skin has folded a bit
here and there
condensing years of accruing love
pouring inward to an ever-growing heart
time has been good to us
a love that has grown deeper
its roots match the canopy
joy hangs from the branches
rooted in the happiness below
we are the strong oak
a love was borne in a single acorn
what we have is the most precious gift
our singularity in the devotion we have
for each other
what we share deepest in those roots
is knowing these seasons are but
life in the garden to come
there are still times when our lips meet
i have those butterflies
still, times as i peer thru those roses
you grace our special evening meal with
you are red and i am pink
i skip a breath
the heart races an extra beat
i breathe in the potpourri she has become
i still read to her poetry on that bench
where we first began
i have never wavered in my intent
each poem has but one purpose
to win her heart, again and again
the never-ending story of my love for her
children still lost in the magic
2/1/19 Kismet
Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and extraordinary part of the lives we live. ? Nora Roberts, Charmed
October Spice
Inspired October creates a recipe
For a sumptuous feast
A bouquet garni of paprika hued orange tupelo,
A fete of fragrant cinnamon shades in russet umber oaks,
Sprinkling tinges of savory gold in dancing ginger aspens
Then blending bits of sienna nutmeg tones to hickory,
Glazing scarlet cardamom frost on the sugar maple,
In a festival of allspiced sweet gum mixed delicacies
A banquet fest spread out in pungent cloves of beech offerings
Autumnal master stirs up a feast of bonne bouche in sassafras tones
With a smidge of saffron dusting on sable sycamores
Tidbits of chestnut fripperies - dainty delights wearing star anise harvests -
Sachet d’Epices of magenta dyed coriander colors burning bushes burgundy
In measures reflecting eternal delight - a twirling potpourri of praise.
9-27-21
Contest: October
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Thank you Jan for the inspiration!
The Eiffel tower stands gaunt,
like a tall iron finger
whose shadow petitions God
for the right to scratch heaven.
My girl loves me to woo her
with polished charm and finesse,
and yet, tonight, it's my turn
to cash in on payments due.
A diamond cuts the glass
as I break into her rooms,
and her perfumed decadence
near makes me gag from the fumes.
Rifling her jewelry box
I find a small silk sachet,
whiffs of potpourri wafting
into the air at my touch.
I decide to pocket it,
and a smile crosses my lips,
a small, scented memento,
to remind me of this night.
(Blank Verse)
1/28/2016
THE WAX-BOULDER
I made you an empress of my heart's castle
The towers on which doves of trust nestle
The curtain wall has your name enshrined
With gushing river of my love the moat occupied
Your gracious smile each stone in the high wall admired
Flowers of committment on the ramparts bloomed
Draw-bridge on its bosom received your foot-steps
Great hall in your welcome threw royal banquets
Your image in intricate weaves, set at the high- table
My prayers for you, echo from the holy chapel
Emanates the scent of my love, care and affection,
For you the potpourri of my respect, sacrifice and devotion
Savouries of my feelings cook at the hearth in the kitchen
Castle yet defenseless!!painted with unconditional love
With stark acceptance for the way you are my love
But your rejection of my love, like gun-powder ripped
through this fortress
Bleeding stones and my weeping soul stand the witness !
©Manoj Kumar and Anulaxmi Nayak collaboration,2015
For contest: Partner Up
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Date: 27th August 2015
The blood and lapis daylight sets
in ether. How the mind resets
brutality of winter chill
with February's codicil;
what gossamer a dream begets.
I hear the crickets in the dark,
their clicking takes up where the lark
has been. The flagrant marigolds
have huddled into twilight's folds,
on sanguine nightfall to embark.
The eastern zephyrs fall and rise
with rapid movement of my eyes
and echo whispers midnight makes
of blood white trails on moonlit lakes.
In silhouette I recognize
a dogwood, though can only sense
its glowing coral consequence.
The blossoms tell me they comprise
sweet spawn of sun rays in disguise
and capture all my heartbeats hence.
Now honeysuckle is entwined
on crisscrossed pathways of my mind
with jasmine in a potpourri
to conjure shamrock reverie
that leaves the pewter scape behind.
Around the lambent dogwood tree
alone upon that verdant lea
buds can prosper, bees will hum.
As though seduced by opium
I greet a vista I can't see,
at least not quite. I know it's there
and feel the dogwood everywhere,
behind me, flanking left and right,
an omnipresence in the night,
like answers to unconscious prayer.
Now high upon a clovered scarp
the tree is standing clear and sharp.
In silence I see restless blooms
play music that my ear assumes
is chiming dulcet as a harp.
Such Efflorescent star bursts splay
like windmills on a gusty day
that in ebullience do portend
a vibrance that will never end
and all my reticence allay.
In waking to a winter storm
that's February's gelid norm
I long still for my fulgid tree,
resplendence that surrounded me,
but only meet a turbid swarm.
I rise and pull back hermit drapes
to see the torrid flurries traipse,
yet through the chaos can discern
the leafless frame for which I yearn
beyond the window storming scrapes.
The dogwood stands just as before
unclad upon the icy moor
with nascent berries undeterred
as though through humble verse and word
like daylight through an unclosed door.
2/23/18
Strength Thru Adversity
Gregory R. Barden
Caged magnetic daydreams of lucid migration;
I’ve been there before. It’s forbidden:
Orchard carved calligraphy crisply cut -
Spiraled surface-scratched immortality
Dimly azure, aglow on videotape,
Red, blue, green. Nature’s baby grand.
An organic player-piano ceaseless
In mellow tone, perched potpourri hillside,
Plucking raspberry notes of beautiful song;
Translucent aches nestled by slippy wake
That ricochet ripples, careening whispers
Through rendezvous dreams.
Seductive susurrus, sentient, shadowy,
Teasing temptation longed to taste;
Siren’s breathiness gurgles in devilish dive,
Swooshes, swoops, swallows. Tickles.
Siren’s breathless gurgle chokes drowned lies.
But…so serene. Feather soft tranquility.
Lyrical folly forbidden. Salmon pink.
2/3/2017
_____________________________________________
Writer’s note:
Told as a pet parakeet (while his owner listens to Radiohead’s song Videotape) whose cage is hung in the window of a cottage overlooking a stream through an orchard while the sun goes down who was a fish in a past life but, sadly, drowned due to a mental disorder which caused him to believe he was a bird and, consequently, spend all day trying to fly out of the water…until the day he refused to use his gills to breathe since, after all, birds don’t have gills.
A symphony of spoons,
a poised poke of fork quartet prongs,
the clatter of knives
resounding, rebounding
in a chamber of diphthongs.
The boil and sizzle of oils,
crisping the chips, tempura and pakora to brown.
so biting the crust
makes the cracks ring out loud,
then softens to an ooze.
the slow chewing flows
into a sing-along song,
as the tongue savors the juicy flavors.
A slice of ripe lime, bright green
a gentle, slow pour of warm wine,
draws out two vowels to sound as one
as the mouth rounds on every morsel.
The steam sighs, rising up in spirals,
from the feast that hums and mumbles, low and strong.
Each bite a voice unfolding—
a choir of chew and tongue, sung
savoring the diphthongs
in each mouthful of potpourri chowder.