Long Richness Poems
Long Richness Poems. Below are the most popular long Richness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Richness poems by poem length and keyword.
A story of a Mountain
The mountain on the other side of the bay was born
before colours were introduced to make the world a jollier place for humanity,
mind it has three hues, black, grey and white, without these
shades the mountain would have been unseen, a shimmer of the morning light,
to avoid an accident, it would have to be spray painted every four years.
The mountain is not a place for a Sunday stroll; they say it is slippery and
if a bird overflies, it drops dead; and no plants grow in cracks.
But where the mountain meets the sea are crustaceans the size of dolphins,
and one lobster can feed a family of five, so in its sterile exterior the mountain has hidden richness and looks glorious at sunset.
Allow me to comb the anger from your hair my dear
with gentle strokes of my melodic care for you,
look at my glowing affection in the smooth mirror of love
as I move your soft mane to the side of your neck
and place my supple lips upon your lower throat with a firm kiss,
let the voice of my deep love reach into the sky of your soul tonight
I've come to explore the Petra of your body and mind
the richness of your color fills my skin
the sweet and natural smell of your longing
plays freely around my nose and tongue
as I enter the narrow passes of your hidden dreams
discovering the treasures that brutes know nothing about,
holding the secrets of your soul close to my chest
the sighs of your delicate heart land on my nerves like thick snowflakes
and they melt so slowly into my carnal desires,
I envelope the back of your hopes with my naked heat,
squeezing my arms around you as we rise to go further
and we join hip to hip
expressing the simmering movements we've felt all along our lips -
J.A.B.
Christmas Cometh
by Ingrid Showalter Swift
Through a wind that never stops blowing
the house holds fast to the light
flickering candles in each window
hope calling out over a canvas of landscape base painted
in solid white
Auburn gold shadows creep along the horizon
where morning and night crest like waves upon each other
frothing sudden color in thier blending fight
Ruby red undertones flame up across the frost filled clouds
then die away slowly to golds and then ice gray
and then moonless white
in the lights of a passing car... flakes ignite..dazzle and die away again
an owl ...its bright black eyes
against round white face
calls out
"ahhhhooooooooooo"
swoops down across the vast field
its feathers struck out white
like white flames held aloft..........or flashing silver polished metal
against black forest and gray sky...
against
the now darkening of night
and I am reminded of a book from my childhood
that read...
"Who.... who... who ....are you?"
The candles flicker on dainty dancers of hope
leaping and falling and leaping again...
so like myself...I have to wonder...
do they never learn? do they never give up?
Turning from the window I smile at all the richness of the bright within
the colors of red and green...
the sparkle of packages and bows not yet even wrapped
but that will lie beneath my tree in time
the crackle of a wood fire...the smells of pine bows and of things I have collected
to celebrate these days
and I am merry ...in my soul
ever hopeful ever believing...ever true
ever listening ......
for your key hit
hoping it will still come someday...
if I am lucky...perhaps before Christmas has grown cold
in the hearth and heart once more
the owl calls out again
"Who who ......who are you?"
and I know who I am
I am a woman who loves a man
and for him I keep on the light
and ration like gold
the oil
My non-languaged son sleeps with angels
by night,
flying
swimming sometimes erotic exotic
running free of AFOs and walker
dreams of past multiculturing sights
and warm glow-voiced sounds
of healthy richness.
What could it mean to him
to sleep with devils by day,
poking and teasing,
singing and dancing,
inviting his attention and participation
across his bedroom floor,
breathing in his non-verbal ear
to say
Hello,
I love you,
as life our abundantly resonant self
My son can hear this perfect love
embracing spoken life.
We should all become such
wise internal listeners of
warm nurture voices
speaking mutually-held external warm light
seeking power of
BasicCommons indigenous neuroconsciousness.
My son would become a Bodhisattva Messiah,
were he capable of maturing images to memory
of communication systems less than ecstatic
beloved community of Angels by night,
DNA/RNA EarthHolonic BeLonging Community
of eco-political democratic family
by sacred healthy day.
Now if the rest of us
could just catch what he has,
in part
because we feel free to return
his open-handed love as co-empathic presence,
what a remarkably wonderful cooperative world
we would remember to see
each time we look at,
and listen carefully to,
a human mindbody tree
as another bicamerally
economic ecosystemic
egologically nurturing
MeWe be
Doing the best Me can
given the receptive light
and powers
We have to work with
cooperative together,
rather than failing
neurodiversely apart.
me.
The breeze of silken dawn blew free,
scintillation of stars so many more to see.
Tide of time by flow in crystal serenity,
low blooming glistening deep alchemy.
Sparkling arches dispensing mirage,
eternal fountain flow of soul to soul courage.
Distinct dark blue sphere overhead,
vivid lights leaping in that grace of spread.
Realm of pleasance observing prime,
dazed vision unaware by the same.
The almightiest sensitive obscurities,
dewy dawn of timeless memories.
Gleaming wealth of open hearts confined,
longing richness in the garden of mind.
In sweet dreams and by soft gentle kiss,
eternal imprint of what we miss.
The light in that great presence and cope,
hands that feel like the glow in infants hope.
Bind my eyes so I can feel Life.
In order to appreciate the simplicity of the sound a tumble weed.
Heighten my other four senses.
to enjoy the delicious pleasure of a lover,
breathing on my lower abdomen.
Kisses falling like rain drops, and my body is shivering
Feeling my hummingbird heart beat
I read your goosebumps like braille
you reach for my hand and
Your hair falls on my neck,
Moaning, in harmony.
We sing praises to one another, as our bodies become one entity
Rumpling the sheets underneath
My skin is grateful for the richness of the tapestry
Bind my eyes so I can feel real life.
Tasting your cinnamon sugar lips,
Is a delicacy that must be savored.
Form:
Oh laggard maid, why do you
harangue the night with your longings
the void greets the multitudes
with the same ashen face.
Only the shades of fleeting joy
can brighten the monochrome
to the richness of sapphire
only bliss can brighten the or soften
the oceanic surge of night.
Oh recalcitrant mother, give way
let the waxing and waning moon
sooth the harshness of your all to human plight.
Let moonlight bathe pearl
the silken sheet of skin upon your out-turned limbs,
refresh the ruby red jewels of your parted lips.
For you are not alone, the stars of heaven
shine before and through your jet black eyes.
The angels wait and watch and croon of love.
Retrieve the youthful loves of yesteryear
to comfort and bless once again those loved so.
Oh aged crone, upon your bed of bone
fear not the coming of the night.
Recast your form in dreams once born
arise within the sacred fresco of burgeoning starlight.
Belay your tendency to rail
resist your anxiety and ease your weariness
within the fantasies of forward flight.
*dedicated to Cyndi MacMillion
To see the eyes of death and look beyond
And come to know that life and death are one
A darkness that will break life's final bond
Will melt away to dust when life is done
To kiss you one last time before my death
Give to you my last heartbeat on this Christmas
So I will give a gift of my precious breath
And all the love I have with its richness
This fleeting moment comes before my fall
To hold hands one last time and watch it snow
As I hear the voice of my darkness call
My last sight is to see your sad eyes glow
Give to me this last Christmas gift of bliss
Warmly remember our last Christmas kiss
12/7/18
contest A Sad Christmas
sponsor Dear Heart
Juneteenth
It's June 19,2025
Today, i choose to thrive
Let's get it broken down
Knowledge is wealth
Let's explain the story
It's better when we hear it from thyself
It's a holiday commemorating the end of Slavery in the United States.
Yes, this was such a big deal
To be a part of
Yes, juneteenth, we owe it to
Our ancestors who spent days and nights putting up a fight
For our rights
They wanted it equal
It replays in your head like a sequel
No one knows the pain or the trauma, and all you've seen
The colors are symbolic. Do you know what these mean
Red is for the blood that was shed
Black is for our strength for years ahead
Green symbolizes the unselfish and plentiful of Mother Earth ??
Yellow symbolizes the richness of our mother land. Let's join together and hold hands
For united, we stand
With a helping hand
We can
Change the world just a little bit
We can be the perfect fit
In an unfit world.
We can perfect and shine
We can leave a legacy behind ??
Full of grace
Did we tell you about what we've overcome and faced
How We ran in the human race ??
And we faced everything that was thrown at us
All obstacles and hurdles we jumped over puddles
Was calm before the storm
Never meant any harm
A new found freedom is being reborn
We are birthing kings and queens all kinds of great people
We will sit high but remain humble
Like a steeple
We are amazing yes we are
Juneteenth we wish upon stars
To be great
To all of our grandparents who Sacrificed we appreciate
One day we shall sing
Happy Freedom
Happy Juneteenth
Ms Concetta Hardnett
06/19/2025
Written: June 25, 2023
______________________________________________________________
April noises and dawn heart roused me,
A symphony of awakening, yet I felt misery.
Confusion lingered such a cloud in my mind.
Yet I still desire morning comfort, which I find.
Spring sounds in the fall are a marvel to behold.
Life's wonders amaze me; my spirit is untold.
Youth, such as spring, filled with vibrant cheer,
But the forties, a season of alter, draw near.
The wind blows a flower without paean or reason.
Summer's honey-laden fruit recalls life's cannily reunion.
Such as poet's song, I crave secrecy and the unknown.
To accept the necessity, my impatience has outgrown
Today, I seek patience—the art of waiting.
In this need, bending of cosmos is dimly creating.
With spry passion, your eyes perceive stillness.
As mind unravels a mystery, an avowal to life's richness.
Beauty defined my universe, and ugliness was despised.
But mild years have lifted the veil and opened my eyes.
What I deemed nasty and odious, a blinder on my sight,
Wool in my ears, blocking out the unfamiliar light.
As a child, I loved flowers; their innocence was so pure.
But now I view their thorns, guarding their allure.
Without protection, they would wither and die.
A reminder that innocence needs to be fortified.
"Winter is a thief," I declared as a child.
robbed the earth of her sun-woven garment, leaving her wild.
Now that I grasp the sense of rebirth and rejuvenation,
The wind ripped away the aged, giving a fresh creation.
"How elfin am I?" I pondered in my youth's naive bliss.
Grasping the sun and stars is within reach—a divine kiss.
Age has brought my youth closer, bridging the gap.
The size of aloneness weighs little—just a faint tap.
In my youth, the moon and tides held sway.
Controlling my every move, guiding the way.
But now that I stand firm on this strand of life,
Roots seek the earth's heart, reaching for rife.