Long Reflections Poems
Long Reflections Poems. Below are the most popular long Reflections by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reflections poems by poem length and keyword.
Autumn fall, a time of change with many bright colourful hues
The sound of crumbling dry leaves breaking under one’s shoes
When the greens of the summer now turn into golden browns
Critters foraging the undergrowth for food, doing their rounds
Autumn fall . . .
High up in the sky birds migrating, they’re off to warmer climes
Natures harvest at its best giving up its fruits, as nature designs
Children are out collecting conkers, acorns and sycamore seeds
Collected up in their bucketful’s with joy at all of their proceeds
Autumn fall . . .
The now white sun glistening through the last remaining leaves
Their vibrant colours of red, orange, and yellow as interweaves
This is nature’s transition before the bareness of the cold winter
Where we as stand in awe of falling snowflakes that on us glitter
Autumn fall . . .
Autumn fall gives us a painted canvas of so many colourful hues
Remembered within our minds; before the bland winter ensues
Where a lit fire reminds us all of those colours in its own warmth
Time of reflections, as nature’s own death allows us all to mourn
Autumn fall . . .
Those of us that can batten down the hatches on our own homes
A home to protect, as give us within a safe sanctuary that it loans
All of our cupboards filled of the rewards of the autumn fall fruits
Such rewards given to us by God’s will, as a fool is he that refutes
Autumn fall . . .
Children dreaming in their beds, where a deeper sleep, befalls all
And adults alike as this is the way of the nights of the autumn fall
The autumn fall days are a time nature gives us all its own wealth
In its last act of pure selflessness before it falls into its own death
Autumn Fall . . .
Zip pose zing the weather forecast
donned wafted air
fragrant with flowered flora
visibility for miles
if ether crystal clear,
this high da way countless yards
off the ground presented flare
approximating pristine floral display
with powerfully poignant immunity
against cackling, jeering, scowling,
parents or other nemesis with glare
ring (smoke emitting nostrils),
an idyll escape for this heir
to the throne of the mountain king,
(lion share of original tract
kept by Donald Neilson empire)
this make believe verdant submerged lair
unwittingly left a gaping hole,
when Gambone Brothers
industrial machinery voraciously
made clean sweep,
without a trace of former imp pier
real resilient stately structured heart
of "Glen Elm" could no longer rear
the well built “grand Etta face dame”
helplessly, holistically humbly
brought to her knees (gory detail aye will spare),
nonetheless more than one pearl jammed shaped tear
trickled down chafed
sad reddened cheeks,
whose head must veer
away asper thine subsequently
blotted out never never never land
eclipsed by transient rubble,
thence vinyl city (dis) graced sacred space,
no doubt a great ache,
when Saint Nick sought
sought in vain for
324 Templed throne everywhere!
It's mother nature's dance
spring growth dubiously enhanced
resting beneath the summer sun
bees, birds and butterflies on the run;
hurried in and out the garden gate
nestling in the flower blossoms safe
a melodic hum drum
to the beauty of the season come.
It makes me smile, causes me to see
the simplicity of life in every bumblebee
to feel the flutter of butterfly wings
listening to every bird that sings;
a warble, tweet and trill
holds my heart with every thrill
some garbled fish swim splash
escaping the heron's gnash.
The waterfall dance
stretched along the stones tranced
with each reflections of some petal fall
mixed colors from palette painted scrawls;
a dragonfly zipping along the pickerel
beauty quite visceral
the grandeur elaborate and intense
this year's rainbow along the fence.
Welcome one, welcome all
to the wonder and beauty of the garden's call.
Shaking in trembles, tremor within.
A delicate pivot, shifts in separation.
Consolation comforts, the loss of win.
My first year of divorce, set in liberation.
Bushwhacked, travelling back in time..
Reflections,... on dark night window.
Shredded heart, in melancholy chime.
Voice not so dulcet, in tears a wet pillow.
I was once your only love, you ever knew.
nonverbal dreams in your eyes of allure.
Law settled rich, in favor of revenue.
In acrimony of hate, split ruins.. of poor.
Joining torn papers, pieces ripped off..
Crawling and dodging, in slow boredom.
Healing cruel cracks of scorn and scoff,
hopes of Oasis in mirage of freedom.
Am I waiting for greetings and message?
Anniversary of an unhappy scar.
Scrambling albums, photos in wreckage,
Yes, we celebrate free.... as prisoners of war.
PLACED FIRST IN THE CONTEST
23rd February 2019
Submitted to Eight Word Anniversary contest
Sponsor Michelle Faulkner
Theme.. Describe any anniversary using given 8 words
mirage,dulcet,consolation, pivot,favor, nonverbal,
delicate, allure
Concrete lanes going north ribbon themselves past barns and fields and small towns. A talk show interview plays on the radio, saying everyone has a story to tell. This morning a ghost of a passing moon hangs to the west, holding onto dreams. As I drive, I feel I’m in some kind of dance with friends of the past and friends of now. All I have to do is to pull to the side, close my eyes and watch the planets and stars dance beyond the blue. This land bears its history of prairies and forests cleared, of natives gone. Just before the turn off, ponds shimmer under the sun, giving a moment’s peace. Just beyond, some other people to greet, memories to envision another day.
travels luminate
landscapes of my many lives
reflections of time
Deep blue sky spreads far and wide
Clear scenery with no where to hide
Destinations in mind, walking on the road
Carrying a time filled heavy load
Faith born courage within every step made
Seeking the light, while sitting in the shade
All that matters is continuing to try
Keeping positive thoughts from hanging out to dry
Knowing all the while, there is a purpose to fulfill
Learning from when flat ground turned to hill
Reflections of loss burn like flames in memory
Spread across the country, mountains and sea
Through all the dark valleys, lost and alone
There is always a light through everything shown
The light overpowers that which has gone wrong
If only a speck, a note to a beautiful song
This song is eternal life, playing now in each breath,
with reward of applause from the angels at death
Heidi Sands
6/15/24
(C)opyright
Kindness playing along the smile,
From a heart who bleeds inspiration
In hues of hope, healing, happiness,
Breathless sprays of light and love, laughter
Alive like the music of wind, embracing
Oaks, pines and birch with gentle whispers
Dancing beyond the past, into the eternal
Where love’s wonder is cast, like the promise
From a heart who prays for forever and always
Gentleness singing in a calming caress,
Voice of tender, voice of affection and care,
Ringing with beautiful truth, purity
Promises so peaceful, serene – tranquil,
Abiding in the soul who hears the quiet joy
Erasing all the darkness with reflections of hope,
Echoes of silence whispering delightful,
Enchanting dreams, inspiring and lifting
Grace that has wings – soaring across the heavens
Compassion whistling, crooning to the past,
In trembling teardrops – dewy eyed and wet
Weeping that encourages the soul to see
Beyond the moment, the present doubt, into forever
Where there is assurance that this is only
One moment, one breathe, one twinkling – an inkling
That will pass into the eternal where there is forever,
A gasping truth, panting for the soothing
Just yonder, where there is a glowing insight,
A shedding of doubt that remembers – His love
Charity – it is kind, gentle, compassionate
Charity – it is love that silences the loathing
Charity – it is hope for the music flowing down
From the heavens where all real love is found!
1 Corinthians 13:13 (KJV) “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”
We went in with good intentions
We came out with bad reflections
Often bad relationships change good people
A person can become everything
And then a person can also become nothing
Something went wrong and
We were only strong until a certain point
We loved the person but
Love cannot live where it is neglected!
Life can be cruel but
We cannot allow ourselves to be a fool for too long
Often bad relationships change good people
But good still lives inside us!
One bad relationship does not mean that
All relationships will be bad!
We should be glad that we can be
Much wiser after a bad relationship
We went in with good intentions
We came out with bad reflections
Often bad relationships change good people
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
Sounds, bathed in memories,
Glistening, shimmering, sparkly sounds
On rivers of gentle, feeling left out
By August sun, blazing tangerine, bursting
Buttery wonder through the reflections,
Stirrings of grace, melodies of praise,
Imitating the faith that warms,
Souls embraced by the sounds, alive,
Brilliant as the flames, overflowing beauty,
Zephyr laughter, cool as March,
Healing the nights from the stormy hearts,
Breathing hues of soft, dancing,
Embracing the song who flavors the moments,
Stardust sighs, singing in glorious,
And wild gusts of blushing stories, poetry
Gentling the grief, erasing the dark,
Storming through the still, arising to the soothing,
Sounds, tender blessings birthed by truth,
Summer bleeds melancholic threads
Through a past of penetrating, unsaid sounds
Breaking through the seas, across the sands,
Endless reflections of what is sounding,
More and more – like the rigorous insight
Into a spirit, so alive, so alive…
Soundless as air who drifts quietly,
Waltzing with the destiny, creating joy
Wherever there burns a distant prayer,
Awaiting the words, verses and visions,
Falling from lips, stilled by the lyrics,
Musical notes, silence and stillness, songs
Unheard but sounds filled with wisdom,
This is the soundless sense from a world of illusion.
Some wake up in cardboard boxes.
Some drive around in silver boxes.
Cops in Irish pubs drink whisky
with black morning coffee.
Who will be first to climb the dawn light?
Daybreak stretches its long gray tendons
to high windows
where dim reflections mirror
strings of geese leaving.
There’s a virus crawling around they say.
Some wake up dying,
some night-walkers go home
to their daydreams.
The town will wear a different mask for a while,
on the freeway rubber rolls to elsewhere.
A limp light wallows in roof guttering’s,
shadows run low, scuttle into dank corners.
The last skein of geese has passed by.
I am at my window watching,
the concrete cells are waking,
some will not sleep again,
not before the next gasping night
steals their breath away.