Long Reaps Poems
Long Reaps Poems. Below are the most popular long Reaps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reaps poems by poem length and keyword.
Joy comes to stay,
Stay with fine sighs,
Sighs that fill play,
Play in fond highs.
Cheer wears a face,
Face graced with smiles,
Smiles that flood space,
Space that love styles.
Love knows the way,
Way to the light,
Light that funds day,
Day for grand sights.
Life sparks with zest,
Zest that fills poise,
Poise to spur quest,
Quest in clear voice.
Here and now pun,
Pun with sure wit,
Wit that reaps fun,
Fun in fond bits.
Mark the warm flow,
Flow of life's fest,
Fest in bright glow,
Glow love funds best.
Come with warm ooze,
Ooze in sure daze,
Daze the grips cruise,
Cruise of sure craze.
Look to fond times,
Times to share joy,
Joy that flings rhymes,
Rhymes that seize ploys.
Reach for life's spice,
Spice that you niche,
Niche warm and nice,
Nice strings things rich.
Be a dear soul,
Soul where love lives,
Lives sacred whole,
Whole lightness gives.
Start with sure heart,
Heart that mind knows,
Knows love that arts,
Arts a kind glow.
Lift up the veil,
Veil of dark night,
Night that sets sail,
Sail to day's light.
Aim to be true,
True to love's cause,
Cause in fine cues,
Cues string right course.
May all your days,
Days weave fond peace,
Peace in sure rays,
Rays bring sure ease
Leon Enriquez
11 October 2014
Singapore
A father tends to his children's fears
with sweet kisses while drying their tears.
And his hug embraces them with love,
prizing each as a gift from above.
Can you tell me of a father's kiss?
A lover acknowledges your past pain,
supporting you as you smile again.
And desire brews an erotic scent
as sweat drops and sexy thoughts ferment.
Can you tell me of a love like this?
A child reaps the innocence of youth,
a magical time of trust and truth.
And laughter's heard almost every day,
resounding in the echoes of play.
Can you tell me of such childhood bliss?
A man sees God in a starry sky,
and he's no longer afraid to die.
Faith doesn't require anything more
than he believes; to make his soul soar.
Can you tell me of truths I dismiss?
(Rhyme)
6/3/2016
Broken, this aged vessel
fractured by fate in matter and mind
careworn and cracked like creeping veins of window frost ...
(but colder in my solitude, I surmise)
Oh, but wholly blessed on the surface, really
no furrows or folds or wrinkly crows
hardly a dozen gray hairs, but for goatee' ...
(winter taking hold there, evidently
the once fiery and fervently experienced lips
put to the frigid air of the disinterested and forsaken)
Too proud, really, that I look twenty years my lesser
for it reaps naught but envy ...
(when I yearn for naught but love)
Yes, the porcelain facade still reflects the sun
but ONLY that, then back to whence it came
the warmth seeps not, and oh the splintered shell within
shards as sharp and crimped as British wit
whether by bent or happenstance or horrid folly ...
(they are as defined as they are hidden
as black as they are white
as cursed as they are blessed)
A hundred and more, they are a memory, each
a pain, a tragedy, a misstep, a ravaged heart given fully
returned with but a wish and a wave
but you see, those cracks and breaks and chips
all carefully mended ... with gold ...
(caring friends, exquisite joys, profound experience, loving family
hope, faith, renewed self-respect, and a million little things
that may pass others unnoticed
but to me, are the lifeblood of existence)
They fill the seams with the most wonderful precious metal
and that broken, shattered soul is healed
made whole by what is truly valuable and lasting
far more formidable and beautiful and priceless ...
(with the wisdom of breakage and healing
and all the myriad lessons learned in the process)
Than it ever was ...
(than I ever was)
Before.
Submitted on April 4, 2020
To the "Strand Choice Z, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.
( For those not familiar with the ancient Art of Kintsugi, please take a moment to check it out - it represents a model for life that is very special - strengthening through adversity. Here's a link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi )
What would I do, if truth and good had no prosperity? How could I live without peace? What a horrible enemy.
I’ve destroyed this world so many times that what is sewn still reaps. So I chose a different path. To do better, in me.
Can I persevere if I don’t use the words I have for energy? How can I bless you all so well your hearts remember Thee?
How can my words and thoughts bring forth a Light we have in Thee. How can you meet my Friend? Is He revealed in me?
A friend for tears of joy and abundance endowed & pressed in me.
A friend for tears of sadness, & my burdened energy.
A friend for tears of tribulations in and near of me. A friend to attend the tears of loved ones and ones that’s kin to me.
A stronger fight for holy some people care less for sympathy. A hero brings the peace, patience, hugs, and good remedy.
A hero brings the prayers & through Christ’s name it’ll be. A hero walks the life of That friend. Thee friend revealed in me.
Sumptuous suggestions straddle stagnancy
Summoned by engaging pages
Susceptible skulls imbibe vibrancy
Surmounting latitude notion ravages
Authors serve smorgasbord swathes of research
Reading's pizza fuses flavours opposing
Issues investigated, valid views aptly asserted
Essays stretch perception, anomaly concepts provoking
Unfurling knowledge tunes recognition's accord
Rhizomes capacitate vertical fronds fluent
Rationale garnered from forest of topics explored
Absorbs ripened writing, reaps new nutrients
Menacing media's ocean threatens to overwhelm
Thrusting throng fish flash slippery details
Awash in momentum's musings, reader swallows foam
Deep sea dive reveals wealth of ocean's minerals
Publications polish paled perishing facets
Discernment detangles dusty brain's barren
Seeds sown with sophistication grow great in habit
Cracked codes give gregarious cerebrum companion
The Game Became a Tragedy
By Franklin Price
6/15/2017
A baseball game, the national sport, a congress benefit,
A hundred year tradition, they weren't about to quit.
The game became a tragedy, and soon it would appear.
A cloud was hanging overhead, and lightning was near.
The rising dark cloud billowing and at a stormy height
For years a senseless conflict between the left and right
Had put a disparate man, with guns, outside the practice field.
We'll never know just what he thought, maybe he could make them yield.
On the conservative field of practice were the right side of the aisle
To beat the left tomorrow was a thought that made them smile
Republicans were practicing, tomorrow should be fun
The homeless man outside the fence began to shoot at one
The muzzle blast was loud indeed, no silencer was there.
Maybe they will listen to me, now that I've given them a scare.
Why can't we all just get along, now I will have my say.
He could not stop with one or two. He had to make them pay
The wounded fell where they were hit, the rest, some cover found.
The police and guards responded by returning round for round
Silence fell, when the shooter shot, we'll forever wonder why.
He came to practice havoc, on the practice field would die
Response was quickly coming. from both sides of the floor.
We must now pray together, we are this country's core.
We must have solidarity, to overcome this fright,
Cannot give into terror, we'll still play tomorrow night
It's a shame it's not that easy, as they govern day to day.
Instead they don't cooperate, if it isn't done their way.
They don't meet in the middle, for what's best for everyone.
Shooting each with verbal bullets is how government is run
Now I am digressing which is something that I do
The cloud's still hanging overhead with lightning anew.
The left and right must work together to overcome this country's woes.
Far worse than this could happen. The public reaps what congress sows.
Words hang from rafters in cobwebs of silence
The candle flickers on a window sill in pain
Locks with no keys stare into closed chapters
The poet’s unhinged mind holds its threshold
Floor boards creak without pace like a ghost
Out of step a lonely sandal slips into motion
As slumber refuses to claim yesterday’s dreams
The clean sheet of insomnia stares into nothing
Reaps restlessness where slumber should reign
A script of smudged ink and unfinished business
Dances under the weight of dried tarnished ink
He counts sheep into flocks of thunderous clouds
All of them black howling at a camouflaged wolf
A bloody pelt seems hung and quartered at night
Scraps of thoughts tease the bleary eyed writer
His resolve is crushed under cover in discomfort
The crumpled feather pillow protests the squeeze
Merely suspends for a moment tar oozing out
Onto a slope passed so often it cannot keep track
Of meaningless journeys for no particular purpose
Direction leads straight to the pointless lack of return
Wide awake and yet tired he removes the blindfold
Unplugs his ears and touches the relentless void
And yet he hears only a crescendo of white noise
Has visions of tombstones veiled in ivy and scorn
Presses the surface of an underworld of confusion
Tears skin and recollects scars and wounded remains
I am no one but who I am and have failed to become
At last the inkster finds relief in an illusion of sleep
Engages in nightmares and apocalyptic resurrection
Grasps a few hallucinations and deluded images that
Give him some resemblance of control over chaos
Becomes his own metaphor and pictures escape
Hopes that the one way street is not a dead end
Loses himself for better or worse and begins to write ...
Agent of darkness
King,
Of principalities and powers
You,
Who knows no love
But,
Hate, scorn and wickedness
You,
Who sow thorns at night
And,
Reaps prickles in darkness
You; you,
Who robs Peter
To pay Paul
You,
Who suck blood
Instead,
Of giving life
You,
Who can only
Ravage the body
But,
Not the soul
You,
Who can only bark
But cannot bite
You,
Who roam around
Looking for who to devour
You,
Who scatters and muddles
Instead,
Of gathering and molding
You; you,
Who sow deceit and fear
In the hearts of men
Instead,
Of love and kindness
You,
Whose only agenda
Is,
To cause pain,
Sorrow and suffering
To God's children and kingdom
You,
Who disappears
When,
Light appears
You; you,
Who,
Christ shamed and disgraced
On the cross of Calvary
YOU,
Whom,
We laid a wreath
On his grave
More than two thousand years ago
Rest in hades
LUCIFER!
Between each archway fingerprint
Remnant headstone carving intricate
Decodes dusty cold cave hieroglyphics
Dirty criss crossed city disposes its sacred
Therapist picks information, laden orchid
Reaps apples, red atoms accumulated
Unwound reveal his raw core seed
Drenches cortex, a sculptor's paste
Presses wet clay to her gluttonous shape
Vessel cool vase impervious as nature's sage
Erects their next century in verdant scape
Cracked terracotta, craft invigorates
Discerned strange through merged lenses
Eternity guaged by trajectories blended
Vehemently slapped at session end
Melted muscles dispel defences
Tutorials mould her, ripe to manipulate
Watertight tomb hosts wisdom ingrained
Eon bridging limber fingers arrange bouquet
2nd July
Sensually
Seek out dear soul true heart that sparks,
Observe the poise of lavish spree;
Joy makes a whole in a full ark,
Oblige deep voice in choice set free;
Urge faith to show the way of hope,
Reach for the truth as love finds you;
Note that you know fond acts that scope.
Ask zest for proof in lovely cues,
Unbind the catch of cheer that reaps;
Sense surprise spring in afterglow,
Treat thoughts that match the splendour deep;
Rest can now bring a better flow,
Attest to truth in sanguine stay;
Live ample touch as blessings link,
Insight tints proof upon the way;
Arrive with much here on the brink.
Leon Enriquez
06 May 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT