Long Retreat Poems
Long Retreat Poems. Below are the most popular long Retreat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Retreat poems by poem length and keyword.
The crescent moon spoke quarter truths
glowing yellow orange
in the evening sky.
Crickets and katydids chirped loud and incessant
and the gray day sky revealed
streaks of red, orange and purple.
A last appearance of the sun light grazed the heavens
brilliant yellow in the setting apparitions
as the trees remained still in the windless dusk.
Off to the west all settled still and quiet
but to the east, the ocean waves churned loud
and the fading tropical storm cried out again.
Storm surge, pounding surf echoed in deafening sounds
pulling sand out to the ocean floor
calling back in foolish unheard cries.
Surfers, swimmers, onlookers are few
most escaped to safety and retreat
to higher shores to wait the passing storm.
Before the Day Begins
Kevin Davis, 2025
Most days I wake just before sunrise, as the sky begins its phase.
The stars grow tired, dimming down from their nightly light-show blaze.
The sun peeks through the mountain peaks, rising slow and high,
And forgotten colors of the dawn paint masterpieces that make me sigh.
A wondrous time begins as birds awaken with their song,
Welcoming all who hear them to return from dreams so long.
Then butterflies begin to feed on blossoms soft and sweet,
To start my day in grandeur, I feel morning dew beneath my feet.
As the new day progresses, each minute is a most delightful treat.
Seeing things I once missed keeps my heart from quick retreat.
Nature paints its vista with warmth and light that nearly blinds.
Colors in rocks, trees, and bushes weave a tapestry so sublime.
But time can never linger, and my awe must soon be broken,
For the new day has begun, and its tasks are already spoken.
On to start the coffee, make the toast, get dressed, join the day’s fast pace.
Yet the memory of that sunrise still brings a smile to my face.
In the very warm May' afternoon,
I decided to take a stroll instead of being blue,
and getting a little adventurous was to discover
another pansy or violet bloom;
these flowers were the precious gifts of a little and frivolous lover,
who gave them to the prettiest ones who loved a boy in pursue:
and as the rain fell on the maples,
they giggled like silly kids hiding their dimples...
And who was listening what they were whispered?
The songbirds that watched them from the dripping, thick branches,
perhaps learning some of the human behavior from the tenderest ones,
who were quite funny and silly, and made great chums;
gitty was a word they did not comprehend,
but happily they chirped to make them glide and dance:
until their enthusiasm and frenzy did fray,
and they stopped, overcome by their fraility...
And would their sentinel's eyes move away and focus
on the unhappy butterflies that failed to flaunt their skills,
on the meadow of dandelions I waited to be chased,
but birds and butterflies flew away to warn me of a foul play:
with the fury of an impeding storm, they jumped on me
and began tickling my bare feet, to make me pay for my teasing;
delirious as a frantic clown, I laughed too hard to beg for mercy,
but they, the clever ones, ran off and left me screaming...
And as the rain fell on the maples, the haw-keyed Weimaraner
came to lick my cheeks, to give me comfort for my defeat,
and he barked and beckoned me to follow him to a nearby hiding:
there the brats were plotting their next michievous scheme
by water-filled balloons and a heap of shaving cream,
as they instructed one another how to surprise me in my retreat;
and as the rain fell on the maples towards early evening,
all their flabby plans came to an end, unable to outsmart their admirer...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
if I had all the money that I ever wanted,
I suppose that I could travel the world;
live in a better home, buy better clothes, if money was no object,
but you see money cannot help me,
each day my health is more delicate, slipping further away;
and all the money in the universe will not change a thing,
this is my struggle and my daily reality . . .
the things I give myself are simple,
relaxing music to soothe this weary soul;
peace, tranquility and love to ease my pain,
and I ask the Lord for strength . . .
in meditation I try to fathom the why,
of course, with money I could go to a fancy retreat;
but a corner in my bedroom is set aside for meditation and relaxing,
and it is there I have placed peaceful things that cost very little . . . .
perhaps with money I could get better drugs,
but no drug is going to change my destiny;
this I know deep in my heart and soul,
I have for a long, long time.
I think a lot about my past and life so far,
the paths I took or did not take, the things I said or did not;
could money have changed my journey in any way . . . doubtful.
a warm bath, a cozy bed, a sweet purring cat, paper and pen so I can write,
my laptop within reach, a walk in nature listening to the birds;
a loved one to hold my hand . . . .
these are my indulgences and they may not seem like much to you,
but I feel like the wealthiest person in this world;
for money cannot buy happiness nor can it buy life,
all I need is the indulgence of tranquility;
and that comes from within . . .
so I have learned to embrace my adversity in no matter what form,
and live each moment, each hour and each day'
with courage and dignity . . .
A sea of tents, stood side by side,
raised at the Dragon’s Gate.
And bonfires roared, red firefly light,
as round them Giants ate.
Maids and Matrons decked in gilt,
chemise ‘bout bosoms and knees;
came to and fro with cup and bowl,
to serve the giants’ feast.
The warriors held the stanchions straight,
while beauties tasted treats.
The bards sang sad, songs, with a sigh,
and faint hearts felt defeat.
Goblets gave surcease from pain,
as darkness did retreat;
for fair maids with undone hair,
charged valiantly to the breach.
And as the sun rose in the East,
each dragon banked their fire,
then one and all proud and tall
Havens Clan retired.
Intravenous tubes disconnect her thoughts
As the machine beeps without relent
I stare blankly at the monitor's screen
And as the lines rise and fall
My hopes fall and rise too
Suddenly the lines go flat, I freeze with fear!
My heart skips many a beat
The nurses rush in, but death does not retreat
My hopes wither and die right there
A flower once bloomed
in the garden of my heart
her season too brief
crimson petals bleeding tears
gone too soon, my cherished bloom
--~--
8/31/16
Contest: Challenge - Write One
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Lost in labyrinthine lanes of midnight's embrace,
Where ghostly gas lamps gleam, casting silhouettes of grace,
Their luminescence lingers on cobblestone veins,
Chattering footsteps echo, bound in heavy chains.
Through wet, winding alleys, cloaked in evening’s dight,
Erected edifices enshroud the moon's ethereal light,
The air still, holding a chill, sharp and unkind,
As whisp’ring murmurs echo, dark secrets confined.
In the grim grip of night, 'neath skies of storm,
Haunting laughter lingers, a prophetic pall, ‘till morn,
A black rose blooms in the moons’ glimm’rin glare,
As Love's beauty burgeons, unfurling despair.
I've tasted the bitterness of love's deceit,
The sting of betrayal, in love's sinking retreat,
For amidst the splintering of shattered dreams,
Love's touch may assuage, or so it seems.
In the depths of the soul, where darkness dwells,
Love's icy fingers bind, a chilling knell,
Locked in torment, a heart's melancholic cry,
Love's weight bears down, a mournful sigh.
Though loss may loom, a specter in sight,
I seek solace in memories, ‘neath soothing moonlight,
For in love's ledger, there is beauty unbound,
Even through loss, its scintillating sentiments are found.
I wander this city’s wet, winding maze,
A seeker of love and all her wondrous ways,
With passions ablaze, though my heart's tattered and torn,
In love’s haunting pursuit, forever forlorn.
Life is comparable
To a sports event in a game;
Like a race, it has both
A beginning and an end.
Similar to an athletic match,
Rules are observed by each player;
All are required with certain codes
Of conduct and behavior.
It closely resembles
A championship bout;
Protagonists aim at a precious prize
By fierce fight, going all out.
While the will to win
In their hearts does dwell;
Many yet fall short of even
Getting close to the jewel.
As in the case of a race,
Some runners stumble;
They even miserably fail
To make it to the golden goal.
Those who get dog-tired
Would withdraw rather;
Caring neither ignominy nor pain
They bring on each supporter.
Losers readily concede,
Thinking they did their best;
They reason not the win or loss
But how they played matters.
In life, we're not mere spectators
But are the playing athletes;
Aiming at the glorious reward
At the end of the race.
While there are similarities,
There are also differences;
The fight isn't between runners and us,
But between us and the evil forces.
We cannot afford to lose
In this crucial contest with evil;
Neither can we choose to retreat
From the spiritual big battle.
Struggle toward the finish line,
For there is no graceful exit;
Amid the din and the pains,
We cannot give up and quit.
We ought to shake off the burden
Of sins right in our face;
Run freely with determination,
Let us finish the race.
In a world of shadows and deep silences, I tread slowly,
On the paths of solitude, where stars weave my hair with gentle rays,
The guardian trees whisper to the wind tales long forgotten,
And people are storms that break my peace in waves of words,
Their voices become storms that drown my soul in murky waters,
They trap me in webs of lies and promises lost to the wind,
They strip me of my silence and leave me bare under a sky full of words,
I retreat to hidden corners of the universe, where the moon knows my secrets,
In their noisy tumult, I am the cat beneath the heavy steps of elephants,
Silent in a world that knows not to listen, only to speak,
In solitude, I find the harmony of a symphony of mute whispers,
Each thought is a falling star, each breath a new universe,
In the pale light of the dawning day, I find my balance,
On the edge of a dream, where silence is my quiet queen,
In this eternal dance of silence, I live the unseen magic of the world,
Words are but distant echoes, lost in time.
Autism Life
No words spoken, Just Silence, Hand flapping, sudden outbursts, kicking, screaming about, nothing new to a Autism mom,
were used to the stares, the comments made under your breath, you think we dont hear you, your quick to judge, quick to made a hastly retreat. Just thinking your lucky stars it doesn't happen in your home.
Public places such as library's, malls, grocery stores, even our neighborhood church, these places are a welcome site for any typical child, as long as you dont have to deal with a out of control child, who has no control of his/her behavior, you are glad you are able to frequent these places whenever you please.
But for a mom of an child with autism, its a nightmare, the noises, the lights, the large crowds, the loud music, is too much, its like having a million voices screaming at you at the same time, if you want to see what its like, please stand in line.
If you want to be helpful, if you truly care, I have a few tips for you, Dont judge, listen, dont stare, help with a grasp of our hand, Tell me you understand, come help me with my out of control child, who is trying hard to calm him/herself the best they can. Come give me a hand, so that i can have five minutes of peace. Come take away my burdens, make my load light,
Because what I have just told you, is truly and honestly, the 24/7 hectic, sad, sometmes isolating life of a Mother of Autism's life..