Long Rests Poems
Long Rests Poems. Below are the most popular long Rests by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rests poems by poem length and keyword.
A constant chime beckons the arrival of an impending goodbye,
A constant chime beckons the arrival of a stranger passing by,
An annulet rests on a passerby's finger,
A cold glowing metal like a beacon of prestige,
A dull drapery withholds the stranger's self,
A chaos draped in peace is what he looks like,
A calm smile not too bright not too dull,
Just subtle enough to soothe the stagnant sight,
Is this waning figure looking at me?
Is this silhouette just all that is?
From horizon beyond a ray of hope comes to embrace the darkened skies,
He looks around with eyes that look like cold ice entrapping the everburning fire within,
This town; a mortuary of selves holds the ashes and dusts ,
He keeps the hand on my head as if to stroke the hairs but doesn't lifts his fingers,
He just stays,
The eyes look tired,
His frame isn't as big as his shadow,
He points towards the horizon,
Murmuring a lullaby of times bygone,
You don't matter,
He quietly says,
He walks away without looking back,
Before I know it my steps fall behind his in rhythm following him as a question waiting to be inquired,
He decides to rest at the pier,
Slouching back as the drapery of his gets muddled with the lake water,
The hood of his falls behind,
He pats near the pier and I sit next to him,
"What matters?", I inquire;
He looks into my eyes; his lips parted for a moment before he says "This",
Beyond the horizon is the one day you will know it was worth it,
Beyond this present waits a "you" who has lived this path,
In a few decades you will be weary and we will be alike,
You may need to come back here to guide,
What matters is the smile,
What matters is the sombre lullaby you can hum in other's lives,
So subtle that they won't notice when it's gone ,
Yet one that carries a note that echoes and gets them going for even a moment more,
This smile will be yours soon ,
Devoid of pretense,
Of attachments,
A smile heralding a stranger's goodbye,
He takes out the annulet and keeps on my palm,
He stands gently as the sunrise lights up his face,
And off in the mist he quietly fades,
A chime is heard in the town once more,
A constant chime beckons the arrival of this stranger passing by,
A constant chime beckons this stranger's goodbye...
What the eye sees heart cannot forget
A descending sun
and orange of dusk,
Reflects in the river
with fading twilight,
Is the world conquered
or is it an aura of defeat ?
When moving water
doesn't change direction,
When greens on banks
still dance with breeze,
Birds return to nests
rests the horizon,
Every morning sun
rises in the east.
Pull up veils of night sky
let fears fade in moonlight,
If no stars twinkle,
let glitter those fireflies,
Hold tight the reins
as mind horses run fast,
Treasure in heart
the unforgettable beauty,
The dreamy eyes see
and soul cherishes.
Written Feb 23rd, 2017
Inspired by pic #4
For contest by Mystic rose
Since I began my poetical journey, Mister Guest has been my inspiration.
To emulate this extraordinary poet has ever been my motivation.
He had that rare ability to portray the ordinary wonders of every-day life;
Impish children, the warmth of home and an occasional shrewish wife!
'Twas in my high school English classes that with him I was smitten.
Since then I've enjoyed nearly every poem that he has ever written.
He has gladdened my soul with his wide range of emotions.
His is poetry that has touched hearts here and across the oceans!
"It takes a heap o' livin' in a house to make it home!"
Ah! That splendid line of his evokes warmth of family in my dome!
His is verse that folks can associate with that will stand the test of time.
No haiku or blank verse for him - he wrote with rhythm and rhyme!
He wrote about the joys of youth and the contentment of old age;
Of the vicissitudes of life, dispensing words of advice so sage;
Of the value of work, of beggars and kings and the miracle of love;
The camaraderie of true friendship and guidance from Above.
Dear to my heart shall always be the poetry of Edgar Guest.
His works have inspired generations and we've all been truly blessed.
His legacy will every be the poetry he left behind for the human race.
He has crossed that mysterious veil and now rests in God's embrace.
Some responsible humans, are beating a path to
A nondescript country' may they focus real heat.!
On the coldness we know of' how much more hides away?
Is there love in that nation; maybe those native will say.?
I would they will come out in welcome? flowers to place.'
Before these good spirited visitors, who care; all's not to waste
Are there good Swiss folk? Who'll succour? Believing no lie'
People who'll accept other humans.' Maybe they'll stand up?
In their thousands, to reject evil plans.' Linking arms
Sharing stories of how better things could be.?
Will they challenge any prejudgment, indeed it might be me?
Yet..No.) I am, as are those marching, ready to cheer!
Should the Swiss' prove their mettle' in a denying of fear.! Oh
May such so be.' And if God wills? there"ll be quality too there' so great!
And also much honour, we all watch to see.! A lot rests with the Swiss.'
Will they now. Rise? To find..' Good reason, and spirit'' of truth
Also liberty? Maybe just in time.!
~The Healer, I lay…Meditating,
The Shaman’s path is inward and up, up, from the bed up, up, my astral body rises.
Silence, surrounds …
Looking down I see myself in a pit of covers
my astral self slips from the window
viewing home and hearth from outside and high above…
No earth born sounds, awaken me from my flight.
NO earthly forest, lush or deep entraps the Shaman she.
NO bird calls fills the Predawn light…
NO dewdrops distract~
Astral I recedes in time… a Dreaming
Back, back, back without knowledge of time, or space
like a fallen leaf~ twirling and swirling,
letting the current take me, where it will
through lifetimes to the womb and beyond . . .
~The Healer, I.. ghosts in space…
my home but a speck lit with Chi.
Silence, surrounds…
Fair astral form of gossamer light, I…thread space on umbilical silk,
the healer...reaches, reaches for the light, the He and She……God and Goddess.
The Healer, I... reaches the World Tree, Yggdrasil,
white crystal roots tendril into the primordial sea
of space time, branching upward cradling Heaven.
There below the tree in the soft grass an ancient one,
a familiar soul, waits.
~Oh I am held by She, ancient Grandmother, and garner the wisdom of ages.~
But, the bodies time is now, and calls
and as the clay rests, it calls
down, down, down… I go
~Past the jumble-tumble between lifetimes, within the cycling universe of all,
The Healer, I, reforms, snaps to the umbilicus of prone body, within the tumbled nest of sheets, in the now plane of existence.
~Arms reach out brushing cheeks, eyes gleam, and sparkle
with the joy of sharing, kindred spirits having touched
the ancient wisdon of the Light!
Silence surrounds.
*revised
A METAPHYSICAL MUSE
What thou lovest in her face
is colour,if her face be painted
on a board or wall, thou wilt
love it.She speaks,smiles and
kisses much. Because it is
painted do you not behold with
pleasure her painted face? Love
her who shows her love to thee,
in this smile , lovely to thee,all
her love forever be,if her face
forever, rests upon thee.
I see her often,solaced with beauty,
the rich sweet softness of her
eyes,that all my senses now
apprehend. Elixir of all vertues,
handmaidens,Pandars of the
bodies pleasure.That Virginity
a virtue,kept by modest chastity
‘til willing and desirous to yield.
When the name Virgin shall be
exchanged ,for the more
honourable name, of Wife .
From John Donne’s prose Juvenilia 2,11,12
*A Phrasis is a structured verse where the poet uses selected prose phrases of another writer’s(not a poet) to compile unique poetry therefrom as a tribute thereto,the word phrasis is Greek for phrase.
Listen to me read this phrasis of mine on youtube under the name
The painting feels like stepping into a quiet study~
that old parchment background carrying Keats’s lines
as though the poem has settled there for years,
warming the page from within.
A bronze vase with a hint of patina,
holds its autumnal bouquet without fuss:
soft orange petals, a few crimson blooms,
maple leaves turned the color of old metal.
Nothing is loud; everything leans gently
into the season’s slower breath.
The vase rests on a small stack of books~
their spines worn, their pages edged with age.
They look like they’ve been gathered
from someone’s favorite shelf,
placed there not for show
but because autumn belongs beside stories.
To the left, a candle lifts its flame,
a small wavering glow that seems to think
before it moves.
Its light brushes the bouquet
in a small, wandering way,
glances off the books,
then drifts toward the parchment
as though warmth simply
found its own path there.
And the scene~
it doesn’t freeze in place so much as
settle for a moment,
letting autumn lean into the objects
that seem to know how to share
a quiet day.
Fall brushes the bouquet,
touches the books,
and finds the edges of the parchment
as if it knows exactly where warmth is needed.
The whole scene feels like a moment
held gently in place~
autumn settling into objects
that remember how to keep company
with lanquid days.
We're now into early evening knowing our knowing
As I watch her glide across the cool marble floor
Graceful steps with her summery dress flowing
It's so easy to fall in love with she whom I adore
Moments later I hear her voice from the shower
I'm being beckoned to offer my manly hands
Now witnessing such curvaceous pulling power
Steamy windows steamier, manned hands planned
On exit, robed, as we caper amidst evenings warm
Flirtatiousness abounds heightening our knowing
I reach, grasp, caught, once robed, now naked adorn
See through my eyes to what they're now seeing
In slow motion fall, cool cotton sheets in receive
Shapely curves beckon I as our eyes meet to seek
In silent approach our hungered knowings plea
Voiced torso's to meet greet seek 'n' lovingly speak
Entwined we bind our souls grasped palms clasp
Thronging rhythmic rhythms are we, Palawan reaches
In moonlight caress, we're blessed, whilst zest rests
Bedded we lie, ties, sighs, with loves peached, teaches.
.
.
Written and concluded June 26th 2020.
Sin comes in many vivid colors
Lies of brightest purple and aqua
Adulteries of both blue and red
Anger that has hues of green to dread
Sin happens when a heart goes off course
Toward a mischief that leaves brokenness
Amid the feelings there are atrocities
That can only come from the discrepancies
Sin opens its arms to those who hurt someone
With betrayals and jealousies that always hurt
And great advantages in the world of distrust
Where there are so many of us living in lusts
Sin tries its utmost to look like an innocent
Fills minds with reasons it invents to do it
Whatever life brings you can know its truth
Comes from lies told by that evil one’s desires
Sin rests upon the soul who never repents
Refusing to seek forgiveness or absolution
It hopes to take the sinner straight to hell
Where it will forever be with them in the fire
Sin tries to tell you that you can’t be sorry
And come to the only one who can forgive you
Provide mercy to your yearning heart and soul
So that you know the One who forgives us all
Sin doesn’t want you to regret what you’ve done
It would rather you contemplate your demise
But God doesn’t want you to live with the pain
He grants you a second chance with rebirth in Christ
Romans 6:23 (KJV) For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
October 6, 2019
Pick A Title, Vol 10 - Blank Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Wages of Sin Title # 3
Born from this ancient dust of creation's seed sown now so true,
Whilst sparkling inside a mystical divine light on this dark night,
I’m nourished from the living waters—the oceans deep and blue.
Majestic wings rise high in the waves basking in Heaven’s light,
Crowning the blest halo golden ring around this angel very dear,
Whilst I kiss warmly the salt of the deep oceans stirring at night.
Spiced now in a seabed, a rainbow’s gem shineth pure so clear,
That a traveler in this radiant world of delight knows real love
Is what we all seek as sparkling diamonds now appear so near.
Where the rivers flow down a mountain’s verdant slope because
There, in the highs and lows of these rivers, tears soak the Earth,
Falling and rising from the dust, ashes are memories of what was.
I have abounding faith in this life’s bond as Nature begins her rebirth,
Eclipsed by a peerless beauty inside, wild passions grown now strong.
A liquid sphere appears in our mortal lives reaching its point of girth.
In the cerulean oceans mystic gulls cry deep echoes bringing us along.
We find peace kneeling as a psychic mantel covers our thoughts pure,
As that special circle of brilliance radiates within life’s treat so strong.
By God’s hand the ancient dust of creation’s seed is with us to assure,
Mankind’s perpetuity on Earth as part of His most holy divine vision.
Only God knows mankind’s destiny rests in His divine hands for sure.
The ancient dust of creation’s seed is part of God’s omnipotent precision,
For He’s the one who shall guide us all heavenward by His final decision.
Gary Bateman, Michael Clarke, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 10, 2017 (Terza Rima)
Terza Rima Rhyming Sequence: aba bcb cdc ded efe fgf ghg hh
Format Note: This poem employs the traditional rhyming scheme used by
Dante Alighieri in “The Divine Comedy,” ending with a couplet, rhyming
with the previous tercet’s middle line.
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017