Long Purple Poems
Long Purple Poems. Below are the most popular long Purple by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Purple poems by poem length and keyword.
Advent is the first celebration of the Christian church,
Its first calendar event, not in December but in November,
On the last Sunday of November, and is normally, usually,
The first festival/celebration of the church year, remember.
Shops sell advent calendars to excite us into Christmas,
Where you can open small, numbered flaps to reveal,
A Christmas sentiment, thought or event as an icon,
Which lets you broad-mindedly appreciate xmas for real.
The four Sundays of Advent mark four different things:
The first destroys the myth Jesus was a total surprise,
Because it finds ancient predictions in Isaiah and Micah,
As the media were the prophets then, with wide open eyes.
The second Sunday lights a purple candle for hope,
Hope for societal revolution of the poor’s healthcare;
And also secondarily, hope in god who would ramify,
This plight so difficult in Jesus’ time, now a familiarity.
The third emphasises that you will find joy, pleasure,
If you believe that Jesus’ message was valid and required,
At that time in which the rich monopolised medicine,
Such that that his followers had to persevere as inspired.
And the fourth Sunday celebrates the Christian church,
Coining a word, incarnation, for the belief in Jesus as god,
For believing that god’s finger touched the baby’s skin,
Validating that parental obedience, that poverty of the kin.
And Advent candles suggest that truth was secured then,
By Jesus death which stated the worth of liberating,
Disabled and ill people into health and happiness,
Because this societal light shines multiply as pervading.
the difference. poof. and there. you are. and then. it happened. you're forceful. light. my force to write. a muse. but never forced me. to write. and "true" doesn't feel right. I write anyway. you're painful. I'm right. but rush away. the difference. and the distances. wrong. all wrong. purples. greens. blues. I'm very much apart of you. a part of you. I must part from you. bliss ruins all of me. your bliss. tastes sweet. i wonder if your embrace feels like Mahogany. if your eye gaze meeting mine feels like a symphony. tasting lilac, teal, and lime. move me. you are. poof. we could be. so in love. like morning doves. like red roses. with the sensations. the sincerity. my insecurities. your secrets. our vunerability. just pour into me. move me. I'm blossoming. blues, purples, greens. I won't live to learn to love you. in any other way that could last - than this. just five steps beyond here exists. you're surreal. so real. it all exists. and i feel. fulfilled. yes, a love. a desperation that paints purples. blues and greens. you carve out my smile. my river of well-being. move me. be. tall green trees. pieces of me. and blue skies. surrounded. and purple flowers. the differences. the distance. move me. you are. sublime. and scenic. and poof. I'm free. invincible. and delicate. intrigued. and invited. yet disguised. a love so deep. you are. me. poof. the difference. and there you are. no distance. we are happening all over again. but you are. oh, you are.
The doves arrive, gentle creatures
heads bobbing as they walk,
plucking stray seeds blown free across the ground.
Paired matches, clutching together
in the softly shadowed rays
of early morning sun to welcome the day.
Peerless counterparts, solitary and alone
scanning the demarcation zones
marked and policed by energetic squirrels.
Boundaries are set, locked in place
periphery margins of time and space
held orderly by the season.
Winter, spring, majestic intertwined interludes
painted purple, black, blue, creamy orange
by intermittent cold and warmth rising and falling.
Signs of the time, forewarning harbingers
of time cycled in conscientious discreteness
dandle acclimation to greet the age of change.
The doves come, peering through the gleam
of light and its reflected mirrored surfaces
long methodic glances at the systematic march of time.
Orange cosmos flowers inside a circle
along with the canna indica flowers;
A big smile of welcome at the front entrance. Followed by Pink, red and yellow ixoras,
the fully bloomed harlequin wonders;
Enthrall butterflies and sun birds
Violet, Red and new comer pink Balsums
are the evergreen shrub
The nonpareil Marvels
Night blooming jasmine flowers
adorn the sideways of the garden;
Meant to engross the moths
The bright yellow alamanda,
the heroine of our garden.
Made us fall in love with yellow
Glittering stars in the morning,
blaze like the diamonds in red and yellow;
The spectacular magic of sun plants
The black night shade plants
bear the inky purple sun berries;
Food for the red vented bulbuls
The Red hibiscus at the corner
attracts everyone's sights
by its innocent grin
The 4'o clock mandharai flowers
unfurl attractive perfumes
and embellish our garden in the evening
Grass green climber braces,
trumpet shaped madevillas,
The small stabs on flowers,
connote attendances of sun birds
Cutest creepers I've ever seen,
amidst the tall green grass;
The metallic blue Verbena
Sometimes our old friends Asian Koels
and our migrating friends Brahminy starlings
visit for their breakfast.
Mynas sing like parrots
and sometimes imitate Koels;
Mimicry Experts they're
Some plants are hostplants
of the common mormons, jezebels,
praying mantis and the signature spiders
Yellow billed blabbers,
the king of our garden;
The faithful defender of our home,
none can step in without their consent.
Squirrels scamper here and there,
and elegant butterflies in the air
proliferate happiness everywhere
Have you ever seen a place like this anywhere?
To embrace glee, you no need to be a Billionare.
Just Visit our garden, you will feel the real bliss, I swear!
Some of us are purple
Lavender, lilac, violet
A spark of joy, caressing
The imagination
Gazing at inspiration
Some are blue, like the sky
Indigo, sapphire, azure
A miracle of hope, dazzling
The promise of a light
Falling like leaves in Autumn
Some of us are red, passionate
Crimson, scarlet, burgundy
A storm thundering out loud
The rain awakening earth
Splattering on the ground
Some are yellow, vibrating
Buttery, lemon, golden
A breath of silent longing
The divorce of a promise
Laughing through the morning
Some of us are green
Emerald, olive, avocado
A tree fading into dusk
The scent of freshly mown
Grass that carpets the earth
Some are brown, inspiring
Coffee, chocolate, brunette
A earthy scent like musk
The collection of faith and warmth
Hurrying to bring a purpose
Some are white, vulnerable
Fair, ashen, silvery
A chill in the air out of season
The brilliant beam of moonlight
Proudly glittering with stars
Some are black, dark
Shadowy, ebony, gloomy
A grief that is impossible to lose
The grave that lingers on the mind
Reminding of pain that rests in the heart
Some of us are alive with love
Bright, radiant, luminous
A smile on the edge of a thought
Drifting through shades of gray
Awakening adoration and praise
Some of us are the color of grace
Lifting hearts and souls
With kindness and prayers
Lighting the way through each day
Giving dreams their attraction
Some of us never fade
Despite living in the brightest sun
Where only God can exclaim
The way we have given our heart
To the rainbows from above
Genesis 9:13 King James Version (KJV)
“I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.”
He stood before the soldiers,
a king draped in royal purple.
He was crowned
with a circlet of thorns woven together,
and pressed into His brow:
Sharp, piercing, cruel thorns.
And His blood
flowed
down.
Mocking soldiers played their part well.
Bowing low with sneering faces
then rising up with wooden staff
they struck Him,
over and over and over again.
The king said not a word.
They spat on Him and laughed.
The king remained silent.
No condemnation escaped His battered lips.
He was brought before His subjects,
beaten, bruised, but not broken.
Not defeated.
Crucify Him! Crucify Him!,
His subjects shouted as they rejected Him.
So He was stripped of His robe,
nailed to a crude wooden cross,
where His blood
flowed
down.
"Father, forgive them!", He cried.
"They don't know what they are doing."
They didn't know who He was.
They didn't know that He had come
to teach them the path to God.
They didn't know that it was for their sin
He was dying.
They didn't know that He was the one
they had been waiting for:
their Messiah, Deliverer, King.
They didn't know how much He loved them
as His blood
flowed
down.
I lay beneath you
Breathless
Our lips
Dance together
Between sighs
And laughter
I exhale love
And breathe you in
God your so
intoxicating
I would have never know what life would mean
If you hadn’t taught me what it was to breathe.
Your hair as black as the night
Falls into your eyes, the windows to your soul
Whose depth seems to be immeasurable
Overlooking a view that is
is so magnificent
a Sunset of hope
bright pink and purple
hangs over the horizon
those arms
full of strength and compassion
protect her childlike innocence
as
golden rays
of love pour all around me
and I bathe in
joy
of what is to live
how fortunate am I
that you helped me see it
you speak in gentle tones
as your hair
as dark as ravens wings
covers you both
shielding her from
the troubles in life
my protector, and my friend
don’t you realize
that I could never love another
And I am finally freed
Caged like a bird I had forgotten what it was to sing
And now my breast
full of song, a symphony within
Love is such a powerful thing
Form:
My dad died in the mountains when I was six.
First words out of his mouth, a new boy, unknown to me.
How old are you now? Six.
So he just died? Maybe not. He is taking medicine, so he can go to work.
So he lives with you? Yes, when he’s not dead. He has a power arm with stones. The green ones make you go slow.
Green stones?
Yes.
The yellow ones make you jump.
He is jumping to my office door now, to demonstrate.
What do the blue stones do? I ask.
He laughs. They make people into animals.
The teacher has referred this child suspecting depression.
He is smiling widely at me right now, and I barely know him.
Could your dad make me a dog if I wanted to be a dog?
He stares at me. Then he turns and jumps back. No. You could be a monkey though.
What about an eagle? Could I be an eagle? I ask him. Maybe, he says, but you will have to wait until tomorrow.
I had to beat up Elliot’s dad, he told me.
Is this a grown up?
Yes.
And you beat him up?
His voice raises quite a few octaves. I had to, because he MURDERED me and that is NOT nice.
When did he murder you?
Last night, Silly.
It does not take a kindergartener long to get my number.
Who lives at your house? I ask him.
My mom, and my dad, and my baby sister.
Oh, you have a baby!
Yes, and she is seven.
Seven months?
Maybe.
Does she sit up?
No.
Can you carry her around?
No.
Can you hold her?
Sometimes.
He wants a piece of paper so he can draw a picture of Bobby, his best friend.
I get him a piece of paper.
And I need colors, he says.
I ask him which colors, and he wants blue, purple, red, yellow, and green.
I get them to him.
He draws a picture.
This is his arm, he tells me. It is a super hero.
The arm?
He shakes his head yes.
I keep secrets, he says.
What are they?
I am a super hero.
Have you saved people?
He nods.
How many?
Six.
Who are your friends in class?
I do not have any.
No one is your friend?
No.
Would you like one?
Yes, maybe my best friend.
What is your best friend’s name?
Bobby.
I did not know there was a Bobby in your class.
He is in the other class.
Mrs. F’s class?
Yes.
Would you like to have lunch in here with me and Bobby some time?
Yes.
Okay, we can do that.
Bobby is invisible he tells me.
You puckered up your lips
You went and cut your Beatle fringe
You squeezed in your bikini
And you trimmed your ginger minge
Your shadow on the beach eclipsed
The bathers on the sa-a-a-a-nd
Oh Tru-u-u-udy! You're out to bag a man
.
She lazes on the beach
Down by the Purple Dolphin Bar
She dribbles down her chin
While ogling hotties from afar
And even though you're thrice the size
You started out to be-e-e-e-
Tru-u-u-udy! You'd have two of him for tea
.
She spies a clueless victim
As his glasses hit the ground
She gaffs him with a tender look
And the sturdy rope she'd found
Though it's not gold nor money
That will cure this Turtle Dove
Oh Tru-u-u-udy! It's just buckets full o' love
.
She straddled him, his legs so thin
Then she began to pout
For it took half the fire brigade
To pull her victim out
Then he began to run as soon
As his feet touched the ground
Now Tru-u-u-udy, he's nowhere to be found
Every Sunday morning,
Sunlight softens her corners
Awakening colors of purple and blue
Red, gold and amber shine through
Glass stained by the artist’s creative brush
Her doors are sturdy and accepting
As a mother’s loving gaze
Welcoming her children back home
After they’ve gone away
Somewhere beyond her comprehension
There sit pews who are delighted
To be worn by affectionate hearts
Who sit quietly with high hopes
Of hearing God’s most intimate thoughts
His promises that endure forevermore
There at the front is the choir
Blessed voices singing hymns
That brighten the faces with sentiments
Of sweet joy, hope and faith
Praises lifted toward heaven’s gates
With great words from the Bible
His minister brings words of vision
From behind the awaiting alter
His voice lifts up the scriptures
Appealing to His glorious Holy Spirit
Prayers fill up the building
Bringing it to life with thrilling jubilation
Requests and praise mixed together
Reaching beyond the sanctuary
To the heavenly realms where God lives
As the service ends for this week
The building seems to want to speak
With a light of love and true peace
It’s secret reaches out through the week
Revealing the truth that we seek
It is insider her, alive with insight
That God seems to enliven
Each service preached
Every prayer, each moment of worship
So that we truly love to enter into her