Long Ripples Poems
Long Ripples Poems. Below are the most popular long Ripples by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ripples poems by poem length and keyword.
My spent colors still speak with my environment
Gray frost seeking a golden sun however little
Dulcet sounds if any come out of this interaction
When words like birds come and take seat in joy
From the lattices of thought is born a poetic line
The lines seek dance of words in melodic intellect
Flashes of suggestion through forms and colours
Movement of phrases for an impression of life
In a definite language in which the poet lives
The lines get together in cohesion to sit in a stanza
Whether in rhyme or in prose matters little
The stanzas love the light and shade of poetry
Even when you say: your touch in the bread
Exudes an warmth this morning, sweet heart
I’m glad that like the stars you’ve excused me
The guitar has to strum in voices of modernity
Instead of saying violence now we say swords
For love you the modern prefer pink whisper
Dream you say is weak and need replacement
I look for shapes which have blurred by now
As I write this my grandson plays with a blue ball
Stripes of sun and starlight raising ripples in air
That meets the happy birds flying towards it
Leaving the yellow and red mango tree in summer
For another taste from another tree in the vicinity
However strongly you plead for prose in poems
The fact remains that we live in a prosaic world
Of cut glass rat race fat loss suicide bombers
And for a lemon shadow in a melancholy corner
We obviously look for poems and not prose
_____________________________________________
31 May 2017
I watch your back till it disappears from sight
I know every inch of your skin
Every expression your eyes can make
I hear your angry whisper in my ear
Your playful laughter ripples over my skin
Tomorrow it will be only a memory
Today I am being ripped in two
Every tear has your name
As they slowly drip down my face
I wearily wipe them away
Wishing I could as easily
Wipe the memory of you from my consciousness
Why could you not love me
More than you loved yourself
Why could you not hold onto me
Why would you not let me hold onto you
In my yard stands a tree
tall and sturdy
silent like a hermit,
regal like an empress
her roots dug deep
her branches touching the heavens
peeking behind the skies veil
She has a coy dalliance with the Wind.
Sometimes he comes tickling
her tender parts, whispering
sweet nothings in her ear.
Overall, she is still,
still.....like waters without ripples.
She stands upright
brooding over the saga of struggle
from a sapling to a towering giant
Indeed, a tryst with destiny!
Under the summer sky
braving the smarting beams
she remained uncomplaining.
Below the thundering clouds,
bearing a thousand needle pricks
she stayed nonchalant.
When the wind swept across,
bending her branches in all directions,
she stood on firm feet unwavering.
She tells a tale of struggle and survival.
She had stood there before I was born.
Now she displays every scar and every stripe
on her knotted bark as a proud trophy.
Sometimes I feel her pain
when wet and dripping in pouring rain
or scorched in the sun’s fiery rage.
Yet, she holds an umbrella over all
who come to her in sun and rain
and blesses creatures like squirrels and birds.
Allow my pen to expose mind’s folly
in the meantime, silly poetically
as I narrate of fictitious Xilly
whose pastime is cheering hilariously
while pondering meditatively
on natural phenomenon deeply
striving to explain them celestially
respecting facts scientifically
defying not Scriptures she trusts dearly
by her perspective, expressed wholesomely.
She claims that angels play bowling gaily
when thunders burst, roaring boisterously…
Oh, for lightnings that blaze tremendously
saints are having pictorial candidly…
See the sky as spacious canvas clearly
spirits present their sketches abstractly…
As rainbows reappear radiantly
color wheel spells R O Y G B I V completely…
Amidst rains that are falling ceaselessly
heaven’s gardens are watered lavishly…
On meteor showers beheld wondrously
cherub and seraph broke stars playfully…
Fret not for eclipse momentarily
since moon and sun meet on-line actually…
Now, check this info she’s shared currently
dealing with climate change accordingly…
Volcanoes do erupt frantically
spewing sulfuric ash obnoxiously…
Such awful smell comes from farts in hell’s belly
thus, masks and face shields must be worn daily…
Xilly’s news is trending contagiously
though fake, its humour ripples truthfully.
*Proverbs 15:21 Folly is joy to him that is destitute of wisdom: but a man of understanding walketh uprightly.
September 25, 2021
10th place, "Fart-tastic" Silly Poem Writing Premier Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 9/27/2021.
Banks did not burst,
just a dribbling bladder of river
leaked into our back yards.
It drooled over damp roots,
seeped into groundhog holes,
into ditches, where winter debris
had already washed-up.
The water rose in some places,
to at least half an inch,
we made phone calls to each other,
imaginations spilling over,
into memories of past inundations.
Some put on rubber boots,
and armed with brooms,
swept the ripples away.
Biblical deluges were discussed,
will the garden ornaments rust?
We watched sparrows bathing.
No geese or ducks landed.
Nothing sailed off over the fields.
A sulky cat was retrieved,
from a shallow puddle.
The mail was cataclysmically late.
Waves dance beneath the clouds,
tossing fish that fly high in the air.
That hot storm was triggering foam
as square ripples erode the shore.
Tossing fish that fly high in the air,
so enticing yet so far out of reach.
As square ripples erode the shore
designing art with their destruction.
So enticing yet so far out of reach,
immune to the luster of seduction.
Designing art with their destruction,
a view undoubtably awe inspiring.
Immune to the luster of seduction,
all of the seagulls know better.
A view undoubtably awe inspiring,
the picture of complete disruption.
All of the seagulls know better,
that hot storm was triggering foam.
The picture of complete disruption,
waves dance beneath the clouds.
[Foreword: spring in the UK is delightful
But it isn’t all sunshine and roses!]
***
’tis a word, oft heard, for March, April, May
The crocus enlivens the woodland way
’twas not to be seen only yesterday
Spring is the word that the birds sing today
Weeping the willow tickles the ripples
The angler most keen swigging Scots tipples
For frost isn’t distant there on the bank
Yet Bream ’neath the branches dance flank to flank
A tail on a golf ball, this is the wren
As an old friend, good to see him again
Venture in sweater to fend sneeze and cough
Yet should the breeze drop, the sweater is off
’tis a word, oft heard, for March, April, May
Spring is the word that the birds sing today
***
11 March 2021
Contest: Breath of Spring
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
tired from crawling
no desire to walk - bless me with wings to fly
in the midst of melancholic melodies of rain
through monotonous tones of charcoal clouds
take me to a place where eagles soar
free me from those who preach in shrouds
ascending above snow drenched Himalayan cliffs
far from cultural vultures preying on my mind
take me to a place where eagles soar
before sleeping volcanoes, veiling lava unwind
through soundless valleys of wasted emotions
where grave yards have become soulless meadows
take me to a place where eagles soar
to tune in with music - bubbling springs compose
away from seagulls too far from the shore
gliding through Iguazu waterfalls of regret
take me to a place where eagles soar
before my feathers become too wet
flowing from the Nile towards the Black sea
surfing over ripples of wanderlust waves
take me to a place where eagles soar
carrying me to a province our heart craves
against storms where adversity engraves wounds
towards the light where rays of sunshine reflect in golden hues
take me to a place where eagles soar
where poetry meets the alchemy of its muse
among coral lanterns floating in lilac skies
beyond the serene silence of the moon
take me to a place where eagles soar
before a skyline of stars are gone too soon
towards the aroma of my beloved's garden
where my enlightened dahlia still delight
take me to a place where eagles soar
where angels recite poetic rhymes to kiss you goodnight
resting upon ancient trees full of verdant leaves
recalling childhood dreams and that forgotten playground
take me to a place where eagles soar
creating a nest in an abode we can call our hometown
and if I could fly.... would you soar with me?
I awoke early that morning as Venus is fading from dawn's sky.
Watching sun rays skate upon the mirror of ripples,gently flowing by.
On the deck of a Princess ship, suspended between the Heaven and the sea.
The mirage of a double Sunrise,as the sun shone upon itself and me.
Today is the day I say "I DO", take thee as my Wife: for the Eons of Eternity.
Bible in hand, the captain stands in Dress Whites, as does his loyal crew.
Arm and arm with daddy,as he gives her unto me; to start a life of Love anew.
Her emerald eyes try hiding behind a transparent Pure White vail; only to fail
Her auburn hair is dancing below her shapely hips: I long to kiss her Rosa lips
Do YOU take this woman"Lenore Ellen Adams" as Your Always and Forever Wife.
I Do echos across the Caribbean Sea. I Do reverberates in the bright Blue sky. "I DO"
Inspired by Dan Kearley's Contest :"One Of Your Greatest Days
Dedicated in Loving Memory of "My LIFE, My LOVE, My FOREVER, MY WIFE
"Lenore Ellen (Adams) Johnson - Nov. 4, 1951 - August 25, 1971
Life dawns like sunrise
Soft pinks and blues against the black from which it came
Sudden burst of light stretching fingers and toes
Receiving blankets of fluffy white
Soft breezes, from Mother Earth, kiss the cheeks of a new day.
Spread your wings and announce our new life!
Rustle the name through the leaves, over fields and hills
Blow strong over the oceans
Grow tall from sapling to a mighty oak
Early morning of our life is for bountiful energy and *****
Splashing and running, carrying treasures to unknown banks
Frolicking from tree to tree chasing the cottonwood seeds
Then approached the noon of our lives
A time to pause; to partake of nourishment for our soul
Lying in fields of bluebonnets and pink poppies
Nestled in beds of paint brush and purple clover
Revel in your time for it is short!
The hours roll by, to a cool afternoon breeze.
Blow softly for the afternoon is mellow
The lake lays still; no ripples in its tranquility.
Comfort years of life taking an afternoon siesta
Bask in the sun; remember the morning.
Early hours well spent exploring.
Places where you once played buccaneer,
Shrubs that just this morning hid fortresses
Each picturesque against a landscape of Kentucky Blue
Too soon Dusk arrives on a charcoal gray charger
Thundering its arrival in the swirl of gluttonous clouds
Chasing you, you seek shelter under the weeping willows
Water rushes in a swirl of memories
Rippling creeks to still waters
The hills no longer beckon
They no longer hold the fascination of an earlier time.
Darkness blankets the earth
Your sit and watch the light show in the sky.
The sun no longer shines; the moon now lights the sky
You reminisce
It was a good day, your life!
From the sunrise to your sunset.