Long Reposes Poems
Long Reposes Poems. Below are the most popular long Reposes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reposes poems by poem length and keyword.
NO GREATER PLACE TO BE THEN INSIDE THE SOUL LISTENING FOR SIGNS THAT ALL IS WELL WITHIN OURSELVES AND NEXT OF KIN. A LITTLE
PLACE INSIDE OUR HEART WHERE SOUL REPOSES LIKE THE TENDER PETAL OF A BLOOMING ROSE. IT IS A SANCTUARY BUILT BY GODS OWN HAND. A NESTING PLACE WHERE WE CAN HEAL. (B)
RELEASE THE VOICES OF THE EARTH AND SOAK IN THE SILENCE OF A BEAUTIFUL MOMENT, QUIET * SERENITY. CLOSE THE LASHES OF
YOUR EYES, BEGIN TO SEE THE BEAUTY OF GODS FRAMEWORK. THE STARS, THE MOON, THE SUN , SHAPED BY TWO LOVING HANDS. THE CLOUD FORMATIONS HUNG FOR YOU ALONE.
WHAT DO YOU SEE WHEN YOU LOOK AT THE SKY?(B)
THERE IS A LADDER BUILT OF STRONG CHORD AND VINES . USE YOUR HANDS AND FEET TO CLIMB UP . WITH EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE THE AIR GETS FINER AND THE SCENARY GETS SHINER . PLACE
YOUR BLOOMING FLOWERS AT THE TOP OF HIS ALTER AND OFFER UP A PRAYER OF THANKSGIVING FOR YOUR SELF AND ALL THOSE YOU LOVE.
SINCE WE ARE ALL FAMILY HERE, WE ARE ALL COVERED BY THE SAME
BLANKET OF WARMLY PEACE. (B)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpY7LTCl2gY
Quiescence 2-6-24
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Quiescent
Snowfall resonates in unison’s octaves,
In low tones of falling flakes’ pink vibrations,
Waterfalls of snowflakes in gentle billows
Pulse in halcyon –
The resting heartbeat of dozing snowflowers.
Feathery gifts from the unselfish heavens,
Unhurried stillness
Hushed drifts,
Suspended between half light and vesper veils
In reposes of resolved hibernation.
Hypnotic hum of drifting hues, soothing bleakness,
Lingers through broadbands of snowy calm,
Like floating tides of resolution,
Lays hands on unsettled winds
And the flushed pulse of whiteouts.
In shades of snowbound solitude,
Drawn into the spellbound cadence
Of snowfall reveries' vital signs,
Breath slows into mesmerizing harmony,
Sinking into the hush to banish blizzards.
I was strolling through Evergreen Cemetery the other day,
Glancing at epitaphs etched upon various stones along the way.
Some flowing verse was out of this world but I can only assume,
That the authors were forthcoming in how they met their doom!
"Should an inconsiderate bird upon my stone alight,
Please do me a favor and remove the blight!"
"Here reposes a dude who tried to rob a lady teller,
But she was a keener shot than this unlucky feller!"
"Here sleeps ace pilot Captain Cletus Cole;
His wings were clipped attempting a barrel roll!"
"Here reclines butcher Clyde who cheated on his wife.
Unknown to him she was also adept at wielding a butcher knife!"
"Here lies Hank his mortal shell riddled with lead.
He was nabbed rustlin' steers and the sheriff shot him dead!"
"Here is deposited the corpus of Eddie a top-notch baker.
He is now serving assorted donuts to his beloved Maker!"
"Please relay your regards as by this way you pass,
But for heavens sake, keep off the cottin' pickin' grass!"
"On a banana peel the dear departed slipped and fell.
We pray he landed in paradise and not in hell!"
"He didn't know his Volkswagen had all that power.
He met his doom head-on doing 90 miles per hour!"
"Fer nigh on 40 years old Hank rode this earthly range;
Now he rides in that final roundup on that heavenly grange!"
"Gambler Jim has left very few friends behind to grieve;
He was caught with a couple of aces up his sleeve!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
I reckon some folks prefer a hound dog lyin' at their feet,
While others might enjoy a twitterin' parakeet.
But be it a mogul's mansion or a humble flat,
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Thankfully, my cat doesn't bark or scourge my pristine lawn,
Nor does he wake me for outside relief at the crack of dawn!
Furthermore, my dear old pal I seldom have to holler at;
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
My cat is content to have me stroke and brush his hair,
And happier yet if he can snooze upon my favorite chair.
A master of his realm, why should he ever want to roam?
Without an inscrutable cat, a house just ain't a home!
While he reposes upon my lap and I stroke his silky fur,
Ain't nothin' more relaxin' than to hear his soothin' purr.
He won't condone a walk, I'll certainly grant you that.
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
His independent airs and a few stray hairs I can tolerate;
Even my chair nigh the glowin' fire to him I will abnegate.
I 'spose you could enjoy a snake, pot-bellied pig or hybrid rat,
But a house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Cat Poem Poetry" Contest
The magnificent eagle grooms itself as a brilliant new day is born.
It flexes its mighty wings to prepare for its daily bourne.
Its beautiful plumage is gilded by the rays of the rising sun.
It will soar to dizzying heights before its adventurous day is done!
From atop a craggy tor where reposes its rustic aerie,
It surveys its domain - rugged mountain and verdant prairie.
From its lofty perch it views vistas mere mortals will never see,
Anon, to ride the vagabond winds, its earthly bonds to flee!
Stretching its powerful wings ready to begin the day,
It sets about its never-ending quest to seek its daily prey.
Aerobatic savvy it will use and hunting skills it will test,
To fill its needs and the gaping maws of eaglets in the nest!
Other creatures flee when its clarion scream is heard.
'Tis perilous to invade the territory of this raptorial bird!
The majestic eagle displays a most imposing aerial ballet,
As it swiftly and silently descends upon its hapless prey!
'Tis apt that the eagle is the symbol of these United States.
There are so many venerable traits that in each equates.
Cleared-eyed vision, firm resolve and regal nobility,
Meeting all challenges and dangers with stalwart versatility!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Tied for 2d Place in John Freeman's "Pure Thoughts In Nature" Contest - Aug 2011
Mother nature’s gentle way of breathing her loving essence into the landscape is a sweet surprise.
Periwinkle slivers across a smoky lavender sky with occasional orange exudes joy of a day well-lived.
A glimpse of heaven, this Arizona desert, as the night slowly reposes into a new twilight magic.
A prairie dog, sensing a cool night adventure, digs her way out of her day place, inching forward.
Yipping coyotes apparently discovered something fun and wonderful, they give chase in the distance.
Their yipping makes the cactus flowers smile, as they open to honor the beauty of the glorious horizon.
All ethereal and quiet again, sky darkening so subtly, the horny toads barely notice as they scurry
confidently through the warm sand, fully coming into their best selves, one with the gentle night.
Awesome silence, a fitting accessory to the blooms of the saquaros which peek out shyly, in small doses.
Even the rattlesnake feels the urge to embrace and honor the angelic silence, moving in a whispery way.
The trees sway to the dance of the wind
Lightening strikes and crawls the skin
From the graves, the spirits do wallow
fuming against nature and what is to follow.
The owl hoots it's melody
screeching off a bat it had for company
unperturbed by nature's rampage,
Sizzling along in its heinous carnage.
The hedgehog reposes in gloom
Mystified by nature's pending doom
forgetting the gnawing of hunger
it's only concern, to brave the thunder.
The Down finally unravels
Pausing the fierce side of nature's travels,
Spitting out the cherished rays
and exciting the birds to whistle in many ways.
The hedgehog emerges in high fettle
Nudging off the droplets from its bristle
basking in the glory of sunlight
and running hither thither in delight.
Fallen trees tell yesterday's pitiable story
But today's rays depicts another glory
and while the Owl may sleep on different places,
the hedgehog is still oblivious of nature's faces
© Temajung Michael T.
“The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.”
----- “Portrait of a Lady;” T. S. Eliot
A golden afternoon,
Late October, and my thoughts
Are all of you, Suzanne…
Vestiges of your being
Appear on visages of
A hundred different people;
But none are you, not one
As green, as golden.
Hard it is to know no miracle
Will mend, no giddy hope assuage,
The scourge that slowly puts an end
To our valiant green and golden girl.
Memory takes us to days of indolence,
Of innocence, of children lying on a levee
Deep in lush, green, summer clover --
In sunlight almost as golden
As your hair -- beside a flowing river
Bearing away your golden hours
And the painless green of youth.
Now, in your green room, reclined
In shadow, our golden girl reposes.
Your courage lights the coming night
That does not dim the gold and green
You always shared, and still you share.
I will send a piece of me to you
Through the thinness of the morning air,
It will penetrate your eyes of blue
And remain inside your heart forever.
I will send a piece of me to you
Over poppies, vilets and roses,
It will vanish in a church's pew
And resurface where your soul reposes.
I will send a piece of me to you -
You alone in all of humankind -
It will disappear from my view
And become a figment of your mind.
I will send a piece of me to you -
Nowhere else I'd send it to instead -
I will tell you to take it - take two -
And retain them all inside your head.
I will send a piece of me to you
Over oceans and over lands,
It will be so supple and so new -
Mold it, mold it, mold it with your hands.
I will send a piece of me to you -
A created piece, a piece complete -
Let it be your own, I say this too,
To just trample underneath your feet.
I will send a piece of me to you
I do not know where, nor even when,
I will send it how, I wish I knew,
To expire and live in you again.
I will send pieces of me to you
In the winter, summer, spring and fall,
And inside your being they'll accrue
Until I am none and we are all.
A sand grain of quartz sprawls on desert dune,
listens to the scorching whistle of the arid wind,
sliding down the steep slope waltzes to its tune.
Face burnished, it doesn’t mind the falling grind.
It reposes in new found niche of subtle solitude,
sees the fiery sun rise, burn the parched heart.
Its static crystalline soul still survives for it should,
it waits for the shower of cool stardusts to start.
The mystique beams of the flimsy maroon moon
drench it with silent shower of nocturnal ecstasy.
It forgets the glow of mesmeric night will end soon,
ascending flare of the desert sun it will again see.
With the surge of fury the summer storm blows,
the sand grain soars to dust-charged cloud of ink,
to the sapphire fold of the enthralling oasis it goes,
where in the azure of lacustrine serenity it sinks.
At the journey’s end bliss suffuses the stony core,
the blaze of the desert sun can’t burn it any more.
December 21, 2019
Contest : Your Best New Poem
Sponsor : Emile Pinet