Long Repine Poems
Long Repine Poems. Below are the most popular long Repine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repine poems by poem length and keyword.
As the wind blew with the sound of a roar,
The storm clouds moved in over the tree line,
And the rain quickly fell in a downpour.
Across the sky a bright lightning bolt tore,
And the storm clouds began to intertwine,
As the wind blew with the sound of a roar.
Suddenly, my mind and heart were at war—
A cathedral bell rang the hour of nine,
And the rain quickly fell in a downpour.
Through the rain, I saw her whom I adore—
Then, she swiftly vanished without a sign,
As the wind blew with the sound of a roar.
She had been all that I was looking for,
I hastened to find shelter to repine,
And the rain quickly fell in a downpour.
Looking at a puddle, I wished once more
To see her face reflecting over mine.
As the wind blew with the sound of a roar,
And the rain quickly fell in a downpour.
© 2021
Most of it shows a repine,
Pictured grandma's ring,
He thought I was stuck to resign,
Travelling around,grandpa was holding a sling,
No one sought to give him an attentive help,
Dated it in a document,
Treasures dug from hard work,
He made a tremendous trek,
Saviour of dead legacy,
He was the changer of bad delicacy,
Established classical and contemporary scholars,
His diadem was from pure emerald,
Hearts of outsiders were filled with equity,
But science took his foreknowledge,
Believing not in nativity,
His years were rebel age,
Making it possible to open a new page,
Everybody feared to warn him,
Perhaps it was his spiritual cream,
When I convinced an heathen,
There was a family healing,
Life no more dormant,
Human figures neither vacant,
Now every wall is strong.
Greenish black silhouettes of trees
sans the complacency
mystique in their conversation,
a stream of uneven triangular arcs
in commune with the lilac-grey
puffs of floating vapor
coalescing in rebellion,
scent of wild delicate roses,
a lover's temptation,
cascades of prismatic water
falling like emotions hard
then, mingling plan-gently
in the river of thoughts,
a lavish pristine green meadow
inventive in its own league,
celestial beads of a night gown
defying the theory of
existentialism,
then why stand petrified
by the fire lit by yourself?
a self fluorish of ambiguities
and repine,
if discern the other side of
darkness
you lay ablaze in ethereal
incandescene,
the hieroglyphs of creator's rescue...
DICKINSON PHRASIS part 11
Today has been a fair day,
very still very blue.Tonight
the crimson children are
playing in the west.In that
pallid land the simple call
sleep,the wind blows its
gentle measure in my ear.
‘Tomorrow it will be cold’.
How sweet if I could see
you then.I would not repine,
knowing that bird of mine
though flown,learneth beyond
the sea,a melody new for me
and … will return.
Letters of Emily Dickionson ed Mabel Todd 1894
A Phrasis is a structured verse where the poet uses selected prose phrases of another writer’s (out of copyright) prose to compile unique poetry therefrom as a tribute thereto,the word phrasis is Greek for phrase.
Listen to me recite this phrasis trilogy on youtube under my pen name ichcthyschiro
In our father's house, you were doing fine,
but you did not want to toe the line.
Father, you said, 'give me what is mine.'
Leaving home sent a jolt of joy up your spine.
No more scenes of servants grazing kine,
or picking grapes off the vine.
Feasting on choice cuts with the chine,
sporting with women, and drinking wine,
living in a ritzy ranch on the banks of the Rhine.
You have many friends who love to dine,
but you are too naive to know that is a bad sign.
Poof-poverty pounces and pierces like a tine,
now broke, homeless, hungry, you start to pine.
To earn money, you take a job feeding swine.
At nights you lie on the streetside and whine,
thinking of the servants and how well they dine.
It is okay, you ragamuffin to regret and repine.
Get up my brother and toward home your feet incline.
The sight of you will make our father’s face shine.
Laying brick by brick, with stickum in between.
A stone on top of another: dream quest and scene,
erected diligently, with a blueprint at the ready.
Each dot and line progression is sure and steady.
Despite storms, hurdles, and limited funding
With slow but steady aims, slanted rashly cunning,
with optimism, sharing in God's dream design.
Adversity shapes us to strive rather than repine.
God's will is a bunker, so every lesson is a brick
His word is final, and the walls of the friary are thick
Our foundation is the cornerstone of our existence
Lord God, the ruler of men, smooths the essence.
I savor being amazed; trust my full autonomy.
A heart full of hope gives way to honesty.
It's optimistic, soul-strengthening, and simple.
We stir up lies, and our ignorance is sinful.
Our love shrinks our hatred with each pulse.
It's tough to stay aside; must veins convulse?
I'm not sure what they'll do if we meet to shine.
Our passion for each other will be closer to fine.
Written: February 16, 2023
Closer To Fine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Don't pout when I smile
Don't hate when I am away in mile
Don't push when I stand
Don't flush when I taste bland
Don't spurn when I land
Don't burn when I am in your hand
Don't block when I step aside
Don't flock when I abide
Don't dive when I disappear
Don't derive when I am not near
Don't repine when I am not fine
Don't define when I forget to draw the line
Don't run when I walk
Don't pun when I talk
Don't skip when I stay
Don't slip when I go astray
Don't keep when I don't beep
Don't lit when I don't knit
Don't frown when I am a clown
Don't drown when I am not a noun
Don't...
Greenish black silhouettes of trees
sans the complacency
mystique in their conversation,
a stream of uneven triangular arcs
in commune with the lilac-grey
puffs of floating vapor
coalescing in rebellion,
scent of wild delicate roses,
a lover's temptation,
cascades of prismatic water
falling like emotions hard
then, mingling plan-gently
in the river of thoughts,
a lavish pristine green meadow
inventive in its own league,
celestial beads of a night gown
defying the theory of
existentialism,
then why stand petrified
by the fire lit by yourself?
a self fluorish of ambiguities
and repine,
if discern the other side of
darkness
you lay ablaze in ethereal
incandescene,
the hieroglyphs of creator's rescue...