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.
how stately is this covered bridge
with a weathered and worn facade
a winding road that passes through
and a slow stream view as you promenade
now cracked and split with rusted bolts
the price of age to its sturdy beams
reflections on water to catch the eye
where two in love tossed pennies for their dreams
it stands in contrast to the Autumn leaves
a gray aged skin against colors bright
to haunt the memory of days gone by
when it was needed for time's respite
time will pass, this bridge will fall
pictures kept, remind of memories lost
as all things that have come before
through passing years, we'll measure the cost
8/18/17
contest Covered Bridge
MODERNITY
such
a
rare opportunity
significant
&
individual
to
walk through
history
so poignant
these
reflections
of change
the tone
shifts
to
different
connections
to be found
everywhere
potential
& influence
borrowed
& learned
as a
source
of
inspiration
from
imitation
novelty
innovation
transforming
oft times
improving
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
"What is life but a succession
of preludes to unwritten words . . . "
Quote _by Constance LaFrance
The words I write are mirrors of my life;
reflections of all feelings stored inside.
Those images of happiness or woes
inspire my mind whenever thoughts begin.
My thoughts are captured by life's history,
of everything I've ever seen or felt;
and there they lie, my sleeping memories-
to be awakened, shaped upon my screen.
They come and go until the hunt is done
to catch those thoughts in inspiration's trap,
and frame as one- the mirrored images
with fine poetic words- to be enshrined.
Life is my book where inspirations grant
my memories a second chance to live.
From early Spring, to now my Winter days-
my book of life exists in written words.
November 15, 2022
~1st Place~
Contest: Writing Challenge - "V" Forms
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Judged: 11/23/2022
Chosen Form: Verse (Blank Verse)
Theme: Quote #3 Inspiration With a Theme of - Writing
Many a year so far
a sweet sensation would within surge
as back to school season
has just begun..
The feelings of a child
eager and joyful
to pile notebooks, pencils and pens
excited to have them all in a schoolbag..
Even as a teacher
that sweet habit, that unique joy
got wild much more!
a deep conception
that a smile, a word
could change a world
a strong conviction
that teaching is a vocation
a mind trained to train
a heart able to see and comprehend
confused faces
gazing at you
seeking the secret of success!
day dreamers, untamed teens
aspiring to reach and own
the treasure within..
Many a year by this time
soul and whole
I would wonder
what would I utter
of words
willing to sow the seeds of passion
in virgin lands
to instill a love of learning
a deep sensitivity
to guide to goals
to cultivate creativity..
What would I teach of lessons
use of methods
to inspire young souls
and their imagination kindle!
Now I’m back to school
with a load on the heart
a sense of culpability
torn about what I should
and must do..
The world of teaching
a hallmark of my identity
leaving that part of me
a possibility
even a necessity..
My heart aches for the realm of poetry
the power of words
that translate my innermost emotions and reflections
their magic
that transcends what is ordinary..
I have a longing for
a sense of belonging to
the world of words
I am an avid reader and learner
with a passion for creative writing
and leaving a world
would not mean
ceasing to be..
Sheet metal.
Don’t know what it is, or if it’s a brand of sorts.
Rocks and minerals of varied colors.
Just like concrete but natural.
Chicken wire.
An entity on its own.
All the hardest things.
Can withstand anything.
We don’t know how it works.
Anymore than the core of the earth.
Or a feather.
The bridge that crosses the river.
And nothing grows.
Sheet Metal.
I bet it’s used sometimes.
All the hard things.
Crystals and such.
Can be replaced.
But everyone would see it.
Reflections.
Like sheet metal.
It’s tough like a deadline.
Sheet metal.
I say all these things about something I think I’m imagining correctly.
I bet I’ll be right someday.
But being right?
Can be replaced.
Sold by your own compulsion, full on disgust rot & rust you've given into another indulgence.
The waste of day into another loss of light, inside the ever eluding conscience, empty as black as the night.
No trace of the bounty with none in nothingness, a face diluted & drowning. Obsession straight inside your mindlessness.
Like wax's continuous drip.
Skin melted in this mind, a fact that keeps the contortions broken inside.
The never ending shifting water...
The ever changing wind, reflections look like slaughter.
Watch your thoughts twist then bend.
Like that of the forever hath, acknowledge what's true, reality read in epitaph.
Should've taken hold,
learning from young to old.
Material fortune easily lost, a *ucktard is simple, no will or character to emboss.
If thoughtlessness was piss, then your surely drinking this!
Nothing descends.
Nothing gained.
Nothing missed.
Placated by stupidity.
Dilapidated in lividly.
Her lavender light shone bright
Surrounded my thoughts
With inspiration
Hope
Her gentleness whispered soft
Against my tender heart
With musical notes
Songs
Her kindness breathed life
All across my prayers
Soothing, caressing
Dreams
Her blushing rose rays of bliss
Sighed sensitivity within
With compassion that
Lives
Her brilliant wisdom, flourishing
Murmured hope and faith
Through my spirit’s
Soaring
Her reflections of benevolence
Poured humility and humble
Love through my soul
Healing
Her truth came alive in praises
Of summer sun and starlight
Singing into the night
Vibrant
Her sparkle shone like diamonds
Shimmering through the noon
In sunlight echoes
Laughing
Her name was mom
I was her child
She was my
World!
Without her
I wouldn’t be who I am today
I always am reminded to pray and praise
When I think of her loving ways
For today… Happy Mother’s Day!
Life has left fingerprints on my skin and spirit,
and deep in my soul I bear the scars of time;
memory, delicate and brittle has cracked with old age,
I am frail and feeble, and my days are fragile threads.
It was not always so, once I was so beautiful,
and I have the tarnished photographs of then;
I look at that girl with skin like milk who was beloved,
where did she go and who is this old woman reflected.
Yes, a girl who loved a nature walk in all seasons,
trees reflected in the lakes and rivers and streams;
once I had a true love, and now I have forgotten his name,
my mind is like an abandoned building with cobwebs.
But, in moments so sweet I recall a word,
I see a reflection of the past bright and clear;
then, it is gone, gone and I am left with a falling tear,
all the beauty has faded, I no longer even try to hold it.
Best I keep the fingerprints of my life to me,
who wants to hear the stories of an old lady;
oh, I have lived a fathomless life but I forgot the details,
so here I am, fragile as glass and just a bit tarnished.
___________________________
March 28, 2018
Poetry/Verse/Fingerprints of Time
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1007-721-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Tarnished Reflections
sponsor, John Lawless
First Place
The camping life is all we need to cherish a vacation
The low stretched arms of mountains, spread, have called for our attention
Our summer place, serene and free, no worries in our backpacks
No need to vent, just take a breath, to relish lodge-pole scent
My children play on the water's edge enjoying their own reflections
Tossing pebbles, one by one, and soaking in the fun
While tossing sticks, our Lab is quick, to run and fetch them all
He dives back in, ..we're once again, impressed by such conviction!
He's back on shore, he shakes! ... .His chore, is to drench us to the core!
Togetherness, envelops us, beneath the midday sun
I want to write a poem, a verse.....but cure my own distraction
Beholding beauty such as this, would cause the tongue to swell
My pen would dry, and so would I, for words could hardly tell
Serenity is ours for free, with earth and sky we dwell
So overcome with majesty, and tranquil peaks of snow
The stillness of a mirrored lake, unlike I have ever known
I've put away the waiting pen, and put away my muse
For, I hear the family calling me, and though I have excuse
It's time to gather kindling wood, for a fire in the pit
With s'mores to make, we'll not forsake, marshmallows on a stick!
--------------------------------------------------------
4//22/15 For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: Memorable Vacations
Yonder hills
are covered with an array of flowers,
we may only see this once
when our eyes are neither closed nor open.
Those far trees are as green as the sea
when the sun is low in the water,
or perhaps
beneath the sea-green
they are
as multihued as any rainbow.
We perceive only
their imperfect reflections -
eyes deceive and the world
is upside down.
All mountains are aquamarine blue
whether covered in ice or not,
this we may want to be true
or deny,
yet truth is a glimpse into a window
that we first must open.
Unfortunately, we have long since
painted this world,
with a blind artists brush.
Vision comes
when the light of the mind
is brighter than that which is seen.