Long Promontory Poems
Long Promontory Poems. Below are the most popular long Promontory by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Promontory poems by poem length and keyword.
I walked unhurriendly on a desolate beach
where the crystalline sand was ash white,
and barefoot I avoided broken seashells;
the April breeze wasn't tiepid but cool.
I looked much farther than I could see,
but the broken clouds of gray and purple
didn't hide the grin of the melancholic moon
that dispised the dulliness of the horizon.
Calmness was felt inside and out,
weary seagulls decided to take a rest,
the novice painter left the promontory;
solitude immersed hearts into sadness.
The darker it got, the duller thoughts became;
stunning images surrendered to the bleak dusk,
I picked up my fishing cane and left with hesitation,
and returning tomorrow, wouldn't I have felt the same?
While going back I spotted someone writing on the bench,
his thoughts were fixed on the crepuscular shadows
that swiftly transformed the lively images I saw before,
and I sensed he was writing a poem I had imagined.
Feel the year-end mood
Rainy punctuation,
Wetness all around
Touch of strange passion
Words stretch away,
New permutations
Here the watcher
Stretches out waiting,
Touch of wonder
Feel the pulse
Of mental images,
Poise of new voices
I wait to know
Some surge of feelings,
Blend of new rhymes
When rhymes fail
To rhyme in time,
Awkward lines distort
Discard the fullness,
Be as empty,
Ready to be full
Words act defiant
Accessory to murder,
Creative impulse dies
Yet words make
A measure that fits,
Ordinary excavations
Be unafraid then
When muse is absent,
Time for meanderings
Poetry is best written
Fresh as a peach,
Eaten for pleasure
Verse or no verse
Distant echoes call,
Stanzas feed compact
No need to ask
Why this ash and dust,
Let the fire burn
If you must know
Death's at the door,
Dye or die anon
Do not go beyond
That unknown sea,
For life calls to you
Christmas here
Tropical promontory,
Crumbling facades
Soon this old year
Must die to resurrect,
Phoenix reborn again
Only three more days
Till a new year
Arrives at the doorstep
Soul journeys feed
Wonder and wander,
Return to sender
Leon Enriquez
28 December 2014
Singapore
Oh! towering revelation spires center of it's eye;
Amber bright white yellow beams of light shine;
As morning just dawn;
Waves of the sea horizontal
As the skies meets the water land
Lighthouse beacons
Wind kisses it's breeze;
Such a tease;
Somberly clouds look down;
As the beacon sounds;
Lighthouse beacons
As the skies, grounds, sea meets'
Brilliant light beckons, shines long strong and bright;
Shows the boats and ships their way;
Towering height and distance from focal plane;
Lighthouse beacons
Light stand reconocianse promontory;
Graphic horizontal lines natural elevation inventory;
Ship on waters sails;
To no avail;
Rocky spikes that juts out into the seas;
Lighthouse a safeguard to those on waters in need;
12/22/18
For Lighthouse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Staying on a promontory, I watch,
The wobbling mass of water below.
Before my eyes,
The sea stretches far;
An infinite scroll of chiffon,
Rolling and unrolling
In shades of green and sapphire.
In its sedate hours of brooding silence,
A calm expanse with feeble waves,
As if seized by an uncanny lassitude,
Lying in majesty,
Swirling in ecstasy.
Within this mammoth silver submarine,
How many mysterious live forms thrive!
What curious shaped corals, what all sea urchins!
What wealth of fish, what gigantic mammals!
Between the blue sky above
And the blue sea below
I see seagulls fly,
The long beaked pelicans prey,
Grampuses heaving their huge form,
Above the calm surface,
And the milky spray tossing shiny pearls,
Upon the stretching naked strands.
I can see a distant sail,
And the hull of a ship,
Gliding over undulating waves,
Leaving a frothy trail of foam behind,
With water churning and spiraling around,
Where sharks and seals and dolphins swim.
Piles of silver clouds move above
And the golden sands stretch below,
With periwinkles, crabs and shells,
Scattered by the receding waves.
Splashing tides, dancing weeds
Rising crescendo, falling rhythm
Oh! What a splendid scene,
In the rosy gleam of this evening!
What delectable mélange
Of tinkling sensory delights!
In the stillness of the night when it rains
Haven’t you listened to a funny chorus?
Cra…. Cra… Cra…. it goes on rough n’ raucous,
A ‘music’ coming down to us through the air porous.
It is a frog family who forms this nocturnal band
They live happily close to a marshy land
During day they roam catching flies, their treasured prize
At night in water, popping up, they sometimes surprise
Equally comfortable on land and lake
With croaking music, the night’s stillness they break
With bulging eyes and webbed feet,
These slimy creatures are an interesting sight.
One evening as the light was waning away,
The frogs were feeling sleepy and stopped their play.
But the youngest was singing in his usual tone
Sitting on a rocky promontory, all alone.
It was then that a fiddler came that way, singing in style.
Listening to the frog’s song, he stopped with a smile.
Sonorous though the music was, he felt it had a lively rhythm
It sounded reverberant as if beating on a hollow drum.
The fiddler sat and sang the whole night on his fiddle
With the Cra- Cra music of the little frog thrust in the middle
Everyone who passed that way greatly enjoyed that lively duet
The sleepy frogs woke up and joined the chorus so sweetly set
Every night the little frog sat outside, recalling that heavenly night
When he and the fiddler drowned the surroundings in music’s delight
But never once again the mysterious fiddler came their way
To play on his fiddle, pouring music to make them gay
Jan. 30. 2023
The Fiddler and the Frog Poetry Contest
Sponsor- craig cornish
CITADEL AND CONSTELLATIONS
The green leaves in rugged moans;
The tall bushes in rumbling groans;
The roofs train creaks-- their fugue
blow cobwebs hugging branches below,
such are precursors inviting darkness lair
for stormy clouds before crowd the days.
Yellow horizon seem unreachable honey
as in my life's ocean, balloon billows I bear.
I-- surged in every swell to skirt yet still
lashing waves dashed pushing me sometimes to despair.
Again, cataclysm walk unheralded casting loose
my arms lift upon the glimmer of silver lining from afar
somber shadows enshrouded me in a mist of struggles.
Ounce of strength I have, I try to juggle and juggle
yet, curses fell from hearts and lips parched of love.
All these came, one and all --
the flowing light has flickered flash and gone
but beyond all these you stood -- my sentinel...
You hushed the bad constellations hanging 'round my world
like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship to his home.
Yes! You are my beacon, a promontory amidst
cyclic onslaught brambles and chameleons,
a rock to cling in the wind's creeping fury,
Staunch and firm, my ñhero fighting the torrential
cascade of tirades and reproaches: MY CITADEL. . .
_____________________________________________________________________
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name Your Favourite Old Poem #2
++Placed 2nd++
***Sponsor Justin Bordner
Contest Name How You Make The Stars Hush
++Placed2nd++
©O.E. Guillermo
06:37 pm, February 24, 2015
The Inverted Garden—Where Time Flows Backward Toward Paradise
In Eve's hand the unbitten poisoned fruit floats like a red sun burning,
Naked-dressed in their false innocence they dance through the inverted week,
Time flows backward—Thursday becomes Wednesday and Wednesday melts into Tuesday soft,
The woman's insomnia keeps her awake on the green-flowered bed of their paradise.
Cynical Sunday watches from above how they refuse to bite the drug of sin,
Her-paradise and his-paradise—personal gardens where the apple remains virgin,
Nature has ripened but hasn't fallen yet—everything hangs suspended in eternal waiting,
Her breasts set fire to the surrounding air—his throat is a promontory toward magic sky.
Poemsaying when they speak—poemsilence when they're quiet—their lips have divine resounding power,
The river revives the dead sea—waves chattering northward and southward on their diurnal skin,
Paralightnings and parawhispers protect them from thunderbolts and poisonous whispers heavy,
Milk tears flow from her eyes—nourishing the earth with the white of pure love.
Their kiss is borrowed rut—debt paid in the routine of sweet eternal remembering,
The paranoerotic of their love—mixture of fear and passion and absurd beautiful courage,
Their life is thin thread—their destiny undestiny hangs by a thread of hope fragile,
Their verb it snows incense from blood—their words are living sacred sacrifice.
Naked-dressed they remain in their garden where the unbitten fruit tempts them gently forever,
But they choose to live in the inverted week—where sin has not been committed,
Her-paradise and his-paradise—the magic place where time no longer matters at all,
Poemsaying poemsilence—they are the living poem that refuses the ending and chooses the beginning.
Joy in a fling, the morning sings:
Bird song now rings in pulse of spring.
From a deep sleep, the change to green:
A profound flip from depths unseen.
There is a surge, of change that glows:
A pulse and urge that nature shows.
The melting thaw, the flow of zest:
Fresh water raw renews life's quest.
Breeze in flora, new buds of spring:
Joy in fauna in myriad swings.
Now one by one, all creatures move:
In rush and run that fund new grooves.
Charm wears a wave, a symmetry:
Life hurls most brave sheer harmony.
I see all these with happy daze:
Watch spring find ease to flood life's maze.
A master plan works a sure hand:
Heart understands the way soul can.
My focus brief, promontory:
Feeds cheery grief in ecstasy.
How can there be such grand beauty?
Truth feels holy: God's sanctity!
Leon Enriquez
21 January 2015
Singapore
The glimmering streets that burned dreams
I can’t grasp its greedy shade
The creep, the rage, and the imbibing crowd
Where do they sleep?
Mist thirsting upon bare and decency
And I refuse to stride with the walls of shame
Where is the promontory beyond this city?
An ecstatic land blowing warm pleasure
Where beneath is a pile of beautiful sunstone
Refracting the translucence of abundance and ebullience
Somewhat hues of the golden hour
Besides its spangled appearance
The independence of my mind
Where water whirls the echt-hands I chase
And love itself shall crash sweetly
Beyond the salty encounters I mourned
And the hymn of the birds
Would bewitch my barely living soul
Ancient detour
Route to nowhere;
Stray moments meet
~~~~~~~~~
Inward journey
Mind seeks heart;
Soul matters most
~~~~~~~~~
Blue moon arcs
Misty mystic mood;
Stillness blooms
~~~~~~~~~
Touch of sad feel
Emotions linger;
Loss entangles
~~~~~~~~~
In your eyes
Truth is telling;
Charming gaze
~~~~~~~~~
Dusk comes now
Abrupt sweep;
Attires dark sky
~~~~~~~~~
Stray purple hues
Floral exclamations;
Garden gate creepers
~~~~~~~~~
Family gathering
Cheery promontory;
Celebrate good cheer
~~~~~~~~~
Beauty greets grace
Touch of fond face;
Time allures space
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
02 September 2019
Singapore