Long Renascence Poems
Long Renascence Poems. Below are the most popular long Renascence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Renascence poems by poem length and keyword.
in streams of sunbeams inviting
my face to turn upwards
I am captured by intangible senses of
nutmeg and cinnamon communion-
candy-coated moments blossoming
As the wizard of memories wakes a dream
speechless and smiling
standing and body turning with movement
I am drawn onto the shag carpet
of blades sprouting green lightheartedness
tickling the soles of my feet
unabashedly bare
naked on an aimless path
shuffling gaited rhythms of a waltz step
striking with carefree muted thuds
on the squishy sod
jumping-running-skipping…
lifting ever higher-a freedom
that only children know
visitors from the ghosts of my youth
appear from the mettle of my core
singing, talking and laughing
each lyric echoing unrestrained
their haunting chimes pasted
in a basket of blue skies painted
with art of clouds
colored like vague stranded souvenirs-
a pictorial imbued across the horizon
a stage-play of our backyard friendships
step-by-step twirling-arms swinging-round
bare feet colliding with smiles
and I…..with great laughter...
I danced with them all!
November 2, 2022
This or That Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Renascence
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
"All the peaceful beauty of nature's renascence I find poetic."
Quote by _Constance
Autumn's_
faded decay
is resting under winter's cold white cloak;
waiting quietly for spring's rebirth
when awakening comes to the maple, birch and oak,
and the birds sing with mirth;
the flowers are giving birth,
awakening_
Soon, the forest has an emerald sway
and rain will soak
the earth,
on a restoration day,
in a stream a frog will loudly croak,
and all the ravage of autumn and winter will be gone.
While in a clearing stands a fawn,
and on a hidden forest pond glides a swan.
Oh, poetic renascence_
_________________________
October 29, 2022
Poetry/Imagism/Renascence
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1497-795-29
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol. 14
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 11/11/2022
Third Place
Submitted to the Premiere contest, Brian Strand No. 1165
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/02/2023
Its boughs spread like a giant umbrella,
Its girth, like the span of many hands,
Its foliage was lustrous green and exuberant,
Its roots dispersed like the tentacles of an octopus.
This tree stood tall and strong,
It stood against the tides of seasons,
It withstood fierce winds,
It swirled and danced to their rhythms.
It was the admiration of many people,
They praised and talked about its resilience,
Children played around it until sunset,
Travellers took refuge under its shade,
Others took parts of it for herbs and spices.
Nobody knew what it went through on the inside,
Little cuts metamorphosed into deep wounds,
Tiny slashes transformed into intense lacerations,
These were recalcitrant to healing.
There was a raging storm,
It passed through the town,
It shook everything to its foundation,
It pulled down and ripped apart,
This tree bowed to its wake.
A part of it held the forte,
It only took a while,
After spring,
There was an awakening,
It sprouted and budded again.
November 6, 2022.
Renascence,
This or That, Vol 14 Poetry Contest,
Edward Ibeh.
All but vanished but now revivified
The old stone mansion...
Where the last surviving member of the rich family died
New grown roses lie there abed
Pink for women, yellow for gents...
For children, orange and red
The family cemetery remains- in which all who have passed
Old and moss covered 'cept the old man "Luther's"
'Cause he died...the last
Refurbished with paint- the old mansion looks new
There's a stone plaque on the new lawn
A remembrance- for all the friends they once knew
A new family resides there now- known as the "Proctor's"
A newlywed couple...
Whose both parents were doctors
The wife is a painter, the husband is a hard-working roofer
Her name is "Rose"
His name is "Luther"
This or That, Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
10/25/2022
*Image of Renascence Album by SPOT.
Renascence
Dilapidated bulges bore in vain,
Counterproductive methods confirmed risk,
Drawing boards experienced once again,
Twilight oils burn onward past midnight's brisk.
The regeneration of the dormant,
The sedentary rejuvenated,
Characters clash excellent performant,
Old guards revised and emancipated.
The abandoned surrender willingly,
Causation of being its impetus,
The change serves its purpose meaningfully,
Portal outbreaks fictions of stimulus.
Energies perform on high Pegasus,
Directives laid down eyes regenesis.
2022 November 08
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 14
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 November 11
Listless life entangled in the cobweb of frustration
looks for the escaping pathway of dissociation.
Time for me to listen to the earnest call from within,
the enticing echo of music from the soul’s concert.
I reform the constitution of the mangled mind,
let the strained strings of sensual duress unwind,
discover the covert cavern someone makes for me
within the abode of hope, so long out of sight.
When I’m lost in the tortuous labyrinth of living,
search the senile senses for the escape route,
but find the exit door closed, letting me perceive
the released hidden power, tipping the balance.
I follow the invisible trail of unswerving faith,
feel the fostering resurgence of reassuring fortitude,
for at the end of the tormenting tunnel
I see the light of self-determination finally appear.
I’m suffused with the heavenly hues of godly grace
that inspires the Phoenix concealed within me
to rise from the destressing dust of self-defeat
at the divine dawn of reflective renascence.
Cliffs call me; yonder scenes to see,
Not to leave them dearest plains plea;
Seas see the senile sight and smile,
Heart yearns to fly free for a while…!
Faces of human beings here,
Appear clear as they are just near;
Seagulls seem seagulls; crows seem crows,
Flowers run reality-shows…!
Will the vistas same on high cliffs?
Will I see the sea and sole-skiffs?
Do snakes, instead home-pets, creep there?
Do land-sea touch, there, grip your hair?
=====
===
Cliffs stand silent; I understand -
Our holy brotherhood now banned;
Though being on land is pleasant,
Isn't beauty omnipresent?
And so I gladly adventure,
As though curio indenture;
Marvelous feelings venture give,
I could cherish when in grave live…!
O! I stand there; my world gets changed;
Outlooks get my thoughts re-arranged;
Each thing seems great gem of beauty,
Each realm reveals: God on duty...!
19 October 2022
This or That, Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
I lifted myself as though I were made of light,
Walking proudly upon the skin of the earth,
Blinded by the arrogance of unlearned ways,
Stumbling forward, deaf to the voice of wisdom,
Living as if life itself bowed to my command.
But with each step, unseen vines clung to me,
Clouds gathered, the heavens tore with lightning,
A single bolt split the trembling ground,
The ancestors’ fury set the soil ablaze,
And I watched the lamp of life dim into night.
One heavy evening I closed my weary eyes,
And sleep swept me into visions,
Not dreams, but the deep ancestral kind,
Drawing me into the dark belly of the ocean,
Where unseen beings circled in the silence,
Their breath purifying the air around my soul.
They touched me with truth wrapped in tenderness,
Unfolding the teachings that shape a life,
Washing away the stains of forgotten ages,
Revealing the secret architecture of strength,
Unearthing mysteries long buried in dust.
A fresh page opened gently before me,
A new purpose written in lines of light,
A glimpse of tomorrow shining clear as dawn;
And new eyes were gifted to me,
Eyes that pierce the veiled, hidden places.
I rose adorned in a mantle of glory,
I rose bearing the quiet power to heal,
And at daybreak I awoke unbound, renewed,
A creature born a second time.
My voice transformed,
My tongue sharpened with truth and breath,
And so I walk this world,
Reborn.
For many times we've been down,
Are we not still standing now?
At dawn we petition the divine,
Hoping for renascence into the sempiternal.
Be it luminous sun or caliginous night, neither is optional,
Then the sun kisses the mountains goodbye,
Reminding us how swiftly time flies.
If we sleep,
Will we see tomorrow?
The rising sun is never promised.
Yet with hope, we close our eyes,
Longing to see it kiss the dew,
Freeing the grass to stand tall with pride.
That is us, that will be us,
Falling like raindrops,
But we never fall,
We descend to silence the dust,
And rise again as petrichor.
We never fall, we transcend,
That's how life shapes us,
There we were, this is us,
and those will be us,
and with hope,
Here we are, still standing,
We never fall.
Rhythmic pose arcs lifting elegant ambience
Graceful dance enshrines artful renascence
Visceral posture invites emotional response
Festive celebration of aesthetic renaissance.
Attired in red and blue of simple elegance
Glorious style augments swirling excellence
Left arm risen high points gracious eminence
Finger tips lift vivid attire in quiet eloquence.
Golden bangles adorn wrists flirting in stare
A lone yellow flower crowns her silky hair
Folded right arm obstructs in a defiant dare
Index finger hides grief, eyes closed in prayer.
Head turned right, arched with sculpted flair
Tense neck muscles manifest muted despair
Open fingers gesture a stealth grievous flare
Air of intellectual grandeur opulently glares.
Ponder why the painter didn't show her eyes
Discover invisible pain vibrant colors disguise
Beneath the splendor lies a hidden surprise
Cultural dance-music echoes her silent cries.
September 22, 2017
Placed 1st:Poems that paint a picture
Painter: Anna Razumovskaya
Sponsor: Silent One
HM: Strand choice U contest by Brian Strand